One With The Wild

by quirkle

Summary:

Five times Wild did something seemingly unexplainable and one time Legend found out how.

Notes:

legend and wild bonding hours. legend and wild bonding hours. legend and wild bonding hours. legend and wi-

There was an enormous stone structure in front of them, bricks built up to try and reach the clouds and blotting out the sun as it went, and Wild was scaling it with what looked to be zero effort.

The group had spent so much time trying to find a fucking entrance to this place that it was now well into the evening and the sun was threatening to set on their operation. Time had suggested they set up camp and try again in the morning, and they did get a camp going, but almost all of them were too stubborn to give up (including the Old Man himself) so they all ignored the campfire being kept alive by Sky and Sky only and kept trying, setting sun be damned. Legend wouldn’t say looking for a purposefully hidden entrance in this low light was a good idea, but he had long ago figured out that this particular group, collectively, only had three brain cells and Legend’s pretty sure Four had all of them, all the time.

There was a lot of ground to cover, was most of the group’s excuse for not stopping, and he found himself internally using that excuse as well. It took nearly five minutes to walk a single lap around the base of the damn thing and it was as high as Warriors’ fucking ego - seriously, Legend had to crane his neck to even see the spire at the top. Old stone was chipping away and flat, grey walls made it look rather boring despite its impressive size. Carvings adorned the stone in some places, vague and weathered, placed seemingly at random and some housing lines of text of a language Legend didn’t know.

All four boring walls looked the same except for the assorted carvings, and Legend had apparently been too engrossed in studying said carvings to notice Wild changing out of his usual tunic and into some fancy looking climbing gear to his left. The Champion and Warriors had been talking quietly with one another - more like Warriors muttering plans to himself on how to get in and Wild nodding along from time to time - when Wild suddenly pulled out his Sheikah Slate and changed outfits. Warriors had said something along the lines of, “Are you seriously going to check the roof?” and Legend had looked over and-

And now Wild was scaling the wall.

He must’ve expressed his utter exasperation and besumement into a neatly condensed what the fuck because Time, from behind him, muttered a tired language without turning around, too engrossed with his conversation with Sky to know any better.

“Uh, Time?” Warriors quietly grabbed his attention, gaze staring up at Wild on the wall.

Time turned then, good eye flicking to Warriors before he followed his line of sight, and if Legend weren’t just as baffled he would’ve been cackling at the way Time echoed his what the fuck in a whisper.

“Woah, he’s high up!” Wind grinned from ear to ear, seemingly excited about this new development.

“He’s not clipped in,” Warriors stated bluntly, tone a confusing mix of pride and utter horror.

Legend did a double take and- yeah, wow, Wild had absolutely zero protection from falling to his demise.

His heart, ever the traitor, beat a little harder in his chest, but all he could really do in this instance was watch the kid intently. And as the others around them were bickering about climbing safety (Four, Warriors), cheering Wild on from the ground (Wind, Hyrule), and calling for him to get down (Time, Sky), Legend couldn’t help but notice something.

Wild wasn’t just scaling the wall. He was scaling the wall, with no protection or safety ropes to yank him away from Death’s grip, by jumping.

And he was doing it without looking for the next handhold before moving forward.

Each leap was a leap of faith, from Legend’s perspective. Each time both of Wild’s feet left the stone his heart wriggled its way a little further up his throat - a couple of days were cut off of Legend’s already-short lifespan every time he watched the momentum swing Wild’s body around roughly before the kid promptly righted himself. Wild barely gave himself a few seconds before making another jump, planting his feet down blindly into little cracks in the stonework, and repeating the cycle. And he was doing it all without looking for the next handhold. Really- as far up as he was, he could still see where Wild had his head turned and he wasn’t- he didn’t even give a glance at the next handholds before he jumped again. It was jump blindly, right himself and plant his feet on handholds he blindly felt for, and jump again.

No breaks, no breathers, and certainly no safety ropes.

It was like Wild knew where to go without even looking.

That’s impossible, Legend thought. It’s not like he’s memorized the path up. He’s never climbed this. This isn’t his Hyrule.

Legend tuned back into the group’s bickering only to hear Twilight absolutely losing his marbles.

“He should not be free soloing that- it’s a sheer wall! How is he even-?!”

“Have some faith, Twi, he’s fine! He’s a good climber, he’ll be up there in no time- see, look, he’s almost there!” Wind beamed brightly, bouncing on his heels.

“Oh I see him,” Twilight breathed out, hands dragging down his face as his gaze followed Wild’s small figure up above. The ranch hand looked a little pale - Legend almost pitied the poor guy.

But he couldn’t help but agree with the sailor. When Legend looked back up at Wild all he could think (aside from the instinctual fuck fuck he’s gonna fall fuck-) was that Wild… looked to be in his element. He looked confident; his movements sure, his hesitation next to none, his execution quick and precise, and Legend was instantly reminded of how Wild fights.

His entire fighting style could be condensed into that trigger-happy phrase, but as much as Legend teased the kid about it, he truly thought it’d be doing it a disservice. There was a unique kind of controlled chaos in the way Wild moved, in the way he thought things through, in the way he constructed plans on a whim- because yes, Wild constructs plans. Most of them may be loose and they may be destructive, but that’s where Wild really shines. He rarely sticks to rules, to quotas, and he works best out in the open, where he can bend the plans and the guidelines and the restrictions into a shape he’s more comfortable with. He’s not completely reckless, no matter how much the others (including himself) say he is; there’s plenty of evidence of Wild planning ahead, thinking before acting, assessing the situation before running in blind. He just has very… wild ways of doing so - it’s all very loose, flexible. Nonconforming, perhaps unconventional at times. The kids uses bombs to fish, uses that Magnesis rune to build flying machines, fights with fucking soup ladles and mops - the kid’s a living example of the good kind of controlled chaos; a batshit crazy one-man army, but he thinks about where to strike instead of just swinging.

Because of this, Time quietly makes it a point to not put too many restrictions on Wild - one of the many reasons Legend respects the man as a leader so much. He must’ve caught onto the fact that when they let the kid go, he performs so much better. No one ever quite knows what he’ll do next, but the kid moves in a way that has everyone convinced it makes perfect sense - nice, fluid motions, zero hesitance, a concoction of fiery resolve and potent confidence radiating off of him in waves. When Wild is in his element, the seemingly permanent ancientness in his eyes evaporates; the nervousness and hesitation he holds in day-to-day conversations flee for safety.

Wild, near the top of the enormous stone structure and converging with the clouds, moved with a sureness he only possessed when fighting - every leap held a confidence unrivaled, every blind grip on a handhold oozed a special brand of certainty.

And yet he wasn’t even looking where he was going.

As they watched Wild disappear over the edge of the roof, Legend made a prediction. And, about a minute later, as Wild came plummeting down to the ground as a frightening speed and puffing his paraglider out last second, Legend felt an oh-so tiny spark of satisfaction at his prediction being right over the mini heart attack.

The next few minutes were spent listening to Twilight scold the kid for numerous reasons (“free soloing on such a flat surface,” “jumpin’ around all recklessly like that,” “pulling that paraglider trick again- you know that scares us!”) but Legend noticed that while Wild seemed genuinely guilty and apologetic for scaring them, there was something… else in his eyes. Something… wise. Something knowing.

It simmered there in his gaze as Wild sat against a log near their campfire, patiently waiting for the worried scoldings from Twilight to settle into the softer, predictable are you sure you’re alright- did you hurt anything? Legend watched him closely, hyperfocused on the kid’s placating gestures, his easy smiles, and how something seemed different about them this time. They were usually slightly jittery, nervous under Time or Twilight scrutinizing glares, but now there was an uncharacteristic sort of calm about him. It reminded him of Time- especially the kid’s eyes. There was an aura of… otherworldly wiseness about it, and even though it was mixed in with that young, convincing smile and that smooth, pacifying I’m fine, I promise , Legend didn’t like it. Didn’t like the undertones, didn’t like that there was something there that didn’t match Wild’s typical, somewhat jumpy nature; especially while being scolded. Even with the ancientness that permeated the kid’s eyes, it didn’t match up.

Legend thought of the way Wild had taken leap of faith after leap of faith, eyes not on the path in the slightest, feet slipping into cracks in the stone like he’d known they’d been there all along.

Wild’s eyes met Legend’s from across the camp. The otherworldliness was heavy and it squeezed his soul.

Legend looked away.

“-gotta say, you’re a really good climber, Wild,” Sky grinned. “Heart-stopping to watch you do all those fancy jumps without safety gear, but still impressive! I’d never be able to climb like that.”

“Can I ask why you didn’t use any safety gear for that climb?” Four inquired from beside Warriors. “Like- you bothered to change into that outfit and yet you didn’t use any of the gear.”

The strangeness in Wild’s eyes dissipated and he looked down at himself, at all the carabiners lining his belt and the rope dangling from his sides. “Oh- this stuff?” Wild put a hand to the back of his head - a habit they all had, it seemed - and gave a nervous chuckle. “Uhm- to be perfectly honest, I don’t really know how to use all this.”

The camp went quiet and the well-known knowledge that Wild has climbed several mountains no doubt made it into the forefront of everyone’s minds.

“Is it possible to get grey hairs before your twenties?” Twilight wheezed.

 

+

 

“Wild?”

“Hm?”

“There’s a bird on your head.”

Several heads perked up, including Legend’s, and he honestly did not know whether it was him or Hyrule who made a slightly squeaky, confused noise.

Sure enough, as Wind had helpfully announced, there was indeed a crow (no- a raven, judging by the bigger size and curvier beak) perched atop Wild’s head, talons weaved between the strands of honey hair. The sun gave its dark feathers a nice sheen to them, iridescent blues and purples mixing in with the black and shimmering when it moved. It wasn’t quite sitting still and had apparently taken to do little hops around Wild’s head and shoulders, ducking down and exploring the hem of the kid’s tunic with a curious beak. The thing was about the size of Wild’s head and it looked to be a menace, nibbling on just about anything its dastardly beak could reach, but Wild… did not seem perturbed. Actually, it looked as though the kid hadn’t even noticed.

“Oh, I know,” Wild proved him wrong, giving a gentle smile and offering a knuckle for the raven to inspect. It nibbled on his finger. “She’s a curious one.”

The camp was silent for a moment, air still and vaguely baffled, and then a chuckle from Warriors interrupted it. “I thought being the resident animal whisperer was Twilight’s job.”

“Is that a crow?” Sky asked, leaning forward with a spark of young wonder in his eyes. Legend seemed to consistently forget that Sky didn’t have as much experience with creatures on the Surface as the others did.

“Raven,” Wild gently corrected and the bird let out a series of low, rhythmic croaks. She took a beakful of the cook’s hair and pulled, but Wild didn’t seem to mind. “She looks to be about three years old. I think her mate is nearby.”

“How do you know?” Wind tilted his head.

Legend watched as Wild gave the raven an easy smile and held out an arm for her to perch. She took it right away and gave two little crruck’s, inspecting Wild’s armguard with gentle pecks. The Champion shrugged, watched the raven study his sleeve and the buckles around the leather with a familiar look in his eyes, and Legend felt uneasiness crawl up his stomach lining.

“Oh, ya’know. After a couple of years in the wild you learn some things,” was Wild’s answer, but Legend somehow knew there was more to it than that.

Perhaps it was because that knowing glint in the kid’s eyes was back. Perhaps it was the alien aura, the mystical pressure that tugged on his soul and warned him of something he couldn’t see. Perhaps it was the way the raven climbed and hopped along Wild’s shoulders like she’d lived there all her life, like she was greeting an old friend, or maybe it was the way Wild let her do as she pleased, let her peck at the places the group was never allowed to touch, let her pull at his hair and nibble on his scarred ear relentlessly. Perhaps it was the way he moved so fluently, accounted for her unpredictable curiosity like he did it every day, movements that special brand of confident.

The same heavy presence that had made itself known during the climbing incident clung to Legend like a glue. Before, he had felt like he was afraid of it, but he wasn’t so sure now. It wasn’t quite fear he felt when he looked at Wild and saw that knowing glint in his gaze, like the kid was in on a secret no one else knew of. Maybe the correct term was… vaguely unsettled.

If Legend focused hard enough, he could feel something shift in the air sometimes - something else would be intertwined with the magic they all breathed, something unknown, something that felt impossibly empty and so incredibly full all the same. It came in little pulses, ever so subtle pushes and swirls, so gentle and so ultra-fine that it proved to be a challenge in keeping his attention on it.

And it always gave him that same exact feeling as Wild’s odd, wise-beyond-years look - that same aura of mystical nature, that same vaguely unsettling feeling, like something about it was unnatural , like it didn’t belong despite it blending in so well with the magic around them. When Legend felt that presence encase him his heart beat a little faster against the pressure, and when he looked at Wild when the kid had That Look in his eyes - that vague, well-hidden smugness that Legend, for some reason, couldn’t possibly claim was unjustified - he felt oddly small.

Legend couldn’t for the life of him find anything malicious in it, though, as hard as he tried. The magic didn’t feel evil, nor did it feel invasive despite the pressure. It didn’t even feel dangerous. It was simply a presence, pulsing and swirling along with the natural current of everything else, innocently weaving between blades of grass and running up tree trunks. But Legend didn’t know what it was , didn’t know its intent or capabilities or desires, and that unsettled him; he supposed it really was human instinct to be fearful of the unknown.

He doubted the others (minus Hyrule) could feel it. Legend had always been a bit more tuned into the magic of the world than them - a bit more sensitive to its presence. He doubted the others saw anything except odd and charming personality quirks in Wild’s actions - he doubted they felt the strange push and pull, the subtle and foreign buzz and hum.

A very strange thought popped into Legend’s mind. Sometimes magic could trickle into your brain and make you think odd things, so he didn’t want to put too much stock into it, but Legend’s learned over the years that some of it is valuable. Some of it is simply a signal - many treat it as a warning - given by the magic itself, even if it does seem to be disguised as paranoid, irrational fears. Some of it is true. And an unexplainable, unprompted fear that Wild could somehow hear his heartbeat crossed his mind.

It was ridiculous. Legend knew it was ridiculous (impossible, baseless, stupid) but the way Wild shot him a subtle, worried glance when his heartrate picked up had him scrambling to calm it.

“-trying to make a nest out of your hair, Cub,” he heard Twilight chuckle fondly and he tuned back in to see the raven perched atop the cook’s head again, talons ruffling his hair up as she picked at random strands.

Despite this, Wild looked delighted, giggling quietly as he reached up and ran a gentle knuckle down her back and over her feathers. She gave a few higher-pitched croaks at the touch.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if she found a bug or two in there,” Time teased with a tiny grin and Wild threw him a good-natured glare.

“I think I know what she’s looking for,” Wild mumbled, straightening a little and pulling out his Slate. The raven hopped back down to his shoulders as Wild flipped through its menus, the bird nibbling the edge of the Slate with another crruck . Hold on, girl, Wild whispered fondly in the tone he reserved just for Epona.

A cloud of blue particles popped into existence in Wild’s hand and once they cleared Legend could see a single silver rupee in his palm, its nicely cut surfaces gleaming in the sunlight, but Legend only saw it for a second before the Champion was handing it over to the fucking bird.

The raven gave a few quick, experimental pecks before she scooped it up in her beak and then she was doing a graceful little hop off his shoulders and gliding into the trees around them. Carrying the silver rupee. Which, if Legend’s memory serves him right, is worth 100 rupees in Wild’s era.

Legend suddenly became very aware of the deafening silence within the camp as they all watched the Champion give money to a wild animal. “You just gave away 100 rupees to a bird,” Legend blurted out, and by the looks of everyone else around camp he wasn’t the only one to be baffled. Hyrule looked particularly horrified.

Wild had the audacity to look innocently confused. He shrugged. “She wanted something shiny,” he said.

Silence settled around them as they all quietly tried to piece together how Wild could’ve possibly come to the conclusion that a fucking green rupee wouldn’t have sufficed in that instance.

 

+

 

[ Trigger warning for descriptions of injuries, blood, and canon-typical violence.

Nothing’s super graphic, but just to be safe! ]

 

Legend had a list of complaints.

Firstly, his head felt like a Lynel had kicked it in with how it throbbed and pulsed out such sharp waves of pain that it made it hard for him to keep standing. Secondly, his ankle felt like a Lynel had stomped on it and Legend didn’t want to think about how painful the healing process would be - he hoped to Hylia it wasn’t broken. Thirdly, he was lacking a certain bag of his filled with very useful items, some of which (read: red potions, some damn bandages, his fucking tempered sword ) would be invaluable right now. Between all that and the fun fact that Legend couldn’t fucking see anything , he could safely say the world was not on his side today.

But when was it ever, really?

His hand glided over smooth stone walls for both support and reassurance that he was near something in the darkness, his boots making a scuffing sound against the floor every time he limped forward. Jolts of pain shot up his leg and gripped his nerves with every inch of progress he made and Legend could hear the occasional hitch in his own breathing, but he chose to ignore it and move forward. He breathed through the pressure in his head, closing his eyes (not that it made a fucking difference in the pitch blackness) and intermittently pausing to lean against the wall, to take a break. His breathing was shaky. His legs shook with it. Legend ignored it.

A labyrinth. Hylia had dumped them in a fucking labyrinth. They’d been overwhelmed by monsters and several of them had already been injured beforehand and Hylia’s solution was to dump them into another Hyrule’s pitch black labyrinth, and in Legend’s case, without his gear.

What a play.

Legend wouldn’t deny that some small part of him was thankful - truthfully, if Hylia hadn’t done that, some of them might be dead. Warriors might’ve dodged too slow with that concussion. Sky might’ve punctured a lung with those broken ribs. Hyrule would’ve gotten an arrow through the heart if they had stayed there a second longer. Legend supposed he should be counting his blessings - the pain in his ankle wasn’t completely unbearable, the migraine from the Shift would pass soon enough, and there didn’t seem to be any monsters down here. Wherever here was.

He wondered who’s Hyrule this Shit Labyrinth belonged to - Legend didn’t know what else to call it and he felt it was pretty deserving of the name. He had yet to hear from the others or see anything particularly familiar or noteworthy. Actually, scratch that, he had yet to see.

A pang shot through his skull and Legend felt himself stop, good foot scuffing against the floor and an involuntary groan leaving him as he leaned an arm against the wall. He pressed his forehead against the crook of his elbow and listened to the abyss as he breathed, his pained noise echoing down it until it became a soft cry, bouncing off stone walls Legend couldn’t see and reverberating for longer than he thought it probably should.

It was empty down here. So incredibly empty and he hated the load roar of the air and the dusty, untouched walls. He hated the pressure the emptiness put on his chest; hated the eerily familiar weight that nestled onto his shoulders and made its home in his stomach. He hadn’t felt this kind of pressure in a long time - thinking back, he hadn’t felt it at all since joining the group. It had went away quite suddenly when he’d first joined, replaced with mistrust and suspicion, then replaced with reluctant acceptance, and then a strange warmth that he didn’t want to think about. The heaviness had receded and an odd sense of bliss had taken its place, strengthened by the laughter of eight other Heroes of Courage and the stupid stories they told over dinner. He’d felt light and airy, and he’d been completely unaware of it. But now, down here, where Legend could hear the air hum and buzz and feel it press on his skull a little too hard, where he couldn’t hear the sarcastic jabs and the well-meaning taunts, all he felt was weight.

To be alongside them and then to suddenly be thrown into a lonely, empty void was jarring, to say the least.

He kept walking, his noisy hobbling echoing down the long corridor (at least Legend was pretty sure it was a corridor). The air roared. His ears rang. He let his mind wander so he couldn’t focus on the pain and the silence so much.

He wondered if the others had been dropped down here as well. Getting separated during a Shift was rare, but it’s happened, and it’s been a mix of the group getting spread all across Hyrule or simply split in a single forest. Some small, selfish, embarrassingly childish part of him wished that at least one of them was down here as well. Just so he wasn’t completely alone. He tried to push that thought down - it was terribly self-serving and it belonged to a fucking child, a baby - but it kept popping up when the bouts of silence got too loud or when the echoes reached too far. Kept gnawing at him and his constantly softening heart and he cursed to himself. I’m not a fucking softy.

The air hummed and something painful squeezed his heart, as if in defiance. Legend kept walking. Kept hoping to find the others before he even thought about escaping this damn place himself.

The worst part was that if Legend walked right past one of their bodies, he would never be the wiser.

He walked until he felt his good leg start to shake - he was so fucking tired from that fight and now that the adrenaline had long ago left his system he felt weak and wobbly. His migraine had shown him a bit of mercy and eased up a bit, but his ankle wasn’t quite recovering so well and the zaps of pain shooting up his leg were only getting worse. Legend finally had to sink to the floor, thoroughly spent.

He pressed his head against the wall behind him, breathing deeply as he stared into the pitch blackness and splaying out his legs to give his ankle a moment to stop screaming. He didn’t close his eyes in fear of falling asleep, but even that proved to be fairly ineffective - he could already feel his mind drifting, his muscles relaxing, so he blinked harshly and trained his ears on the irritating buzz of the empty labyrinth, listening. Searching for a footstep, a scuttle of a beetle on the stone walls, a drip of water, anything . But all he got was silence. Thick, booming silence. Legend didn’t know the Earth could get this quiet.

Everything was so still and so empty that Legend felt like he was breaking a law of the universe or something by being here. Like he wasn’t supposed to be here, like he’d accidentally broken a million-year streak of no living being ever touching these walls. He felt as though this place wasn’t made to be walked in, or even entered - the word forbidden came to mind. The word lonely came to mind too.

It almost didn’t feel real. Like it was so impossibly silent and still and lifeless that Legend couldn’t be in a real place right now - it all felt so liminal. So… fake. Dreamlike.

Legend didn’t like that at all.

The fears in the back of his mind were starting to come to fruition in the bleak quiet and Legend couldn’t stop his brain from getting more and more ridiculous in its purely visceral conclusions. He nearly tsk’d at his own, “This is just another dream. The group was never real to begin with.” Stupid. Keep your head on, Link. Honestly, was he always such a fucking child? Sure, he is one, but he’s also a Hero, and he can’t fucking be both or else his chances of survival go into the single digits. Of course he’s not in another dream. Not when he could hear Wild calling his name.

Wait- Wild?

Legend snapped his eyes open (he was falling asleep he’d been falling asleep-) and whipped his head around to stare down the corridor in the direction he’d been heading, eyes digging into the darkness and finding nothing but a void. Legend held his breath - maybe he’d imagined it - and listened. And listened.

“Legend?”

It was distant, but it was most certainly Wild. Legend would recognize that gentle, higher-pitched tone anywhere.

“Wild!” he called as he scrambled to his feet, breath hitching when he jostled his ankle too much.

He used the wall for leverage as he heard hurried footsteps patter down the corridor and within a moment Wild was right in front of him. The only thing he could see of him was the dim glow of the Sheikah Slate’s pattern on his hip, but Legend would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad to finally see something.

“Legend- you’re hurt!” Wild didn’t bother with a greeting and cut right to the case. Legend sensed worried hands hovering near him.

“It’s probably just a sprain,” Legend grunted out. “But it hurts like a bitch and I probably shouldn’t be walking on it.”

Wild didn’t answer and Legend caught sight of a couple blue sparks from that Slate of his before something glowing orange popped into existence - a fire arrow, it looked to be, the flame-shaped arrowhead giving off a warm glow that Legend welcomed with open arms. It was bright enough to illuminate them both in a fiery hue, the light reaching both walls of the corridor and finally breathing some life into the empty labyrinth. Legend would never admit it out loud but an embarrassing amount of relief instantly flooded him when Wild’s figure was lit up before him and he was able to see the kid standing and breathing and alive.

Wild - face lit up in orange tones and eyes looking like an ocean had somehow been lit ablaze - had his gaze scanning over Legend’s form worriedly, serious and calculative. His hair was an absolute bird’s nest, frizzy and knotted and ponytail halfway undone, and he was still wearing that ridiculous Barbarian tunic with mismatched amber earrings and a simple pair of trousers (thank Hylia he wasn’t wearing the fucking Barbarian leg wraps). Mud splattered along his torso and mixed with the body paint that seemingly magically appeared on the kid the second he donned the armor (a term Legend didn’t think it deserved) - it caked along his left arm and absolutely smothered his shoulder, effectively dirtying the white fur there beyond repair. Dried blood came from a couple shallow looking cuts along his face and arms; there was a deeper one above his eyebrow but it didn’t look like it was bleeding anymore, so that was a plus. One of his boots was missing, somehow, sock covered in mud as well. All in all, the kid looked a mess.

He’d never been so happy to see the little mongrel.

While Wild was looking him up and down, Legend took the time to scan the kid for injuries as well. He learnt long ago that he’d never get an honest answer if he asked (damn reckless bastard) so he simply resorted to searching himself. Luckily, Legend could only find the few minor cuts and bruises here and there.

Wild suddenly thrust a red potion into his hands after another cloud of blue particles popped it into existence. Legend didn’t argue and popped the cork off. “Nobody else?”

Wild shook his head. “Not yet. You’re the first I’ve found.”

Legend downed the potion and sighed as some of the pain was immediately lifted, a tingling sensation invading his nerves. He cautiously tested his ankle, pressing some weight on, and winced.

“You probably shouldn’t walk on it yet,” Wild advised, apparently getting the gist that Legend had no plan of resting anytime soon and moving to stand beside him.

They settled into a (unfortunately) familiar position of Legend having his arm swung around Wild and leaning some of his weight on the kid. “My stuff got lost in the Shift,” Legend sourly informed. “Don’t even have my damn sword on me.”

“Do you wanna go back the way you came and try to find it?”

Legend glanced down the corridor the way he’d come. “Probably the smart choice.”

They continued down the hall and retraced Legend’s steps (not that he knew where the fuck he has and hasn’t been), slowly but surely progressing through the labyrinth, footsteps quiet and booming all at once. The only other sound was their breathing, Legend not having the energy to keep up a conversation and he was sure Wild was in the same boat even with the kid’s crazy endurance. Legend could tell by the way Wild dragged his feet just a little, how he slumped almost imperceptibly, how even in the low light he could see that Wild’s eyes didn’t shine as bright, didn’t have that same youthful energy that they typically held. The kid was tired from the recent ordeal, and Legend was too, but he tried not to lean too much weight on the cook.

In the midst of the silence that was slightly more tolerable with Wild by his side, Legend’s mind wandered to the rest of the team, silently hoping they were alright and already finding a way out of here (if they were even down here to begin with). Legend was most certainly not an optimist but he tried to imagine some of the good outcomes of this shitshow - maybe the others had already found each other and perhaps Warriors was getting treated for that concussion and Sky had the magic of a red potion swirling around his broken ribs. Perhaps they were looking for them. Perhaps the ranch hand was already set on tracking them down in that wolf form.

Legend was vaguely surprised that Wild was in such a good shape - ignoring the absolute mess that was his mud-and-blood riddled hair and his overall crackhead appearance, it seemed that the kid had come away from that fight relatively unscathed. Legend was glad, of course, it just genuinely caught him off guard; Wild was usually prone to getting injuries more often than the rest of them, much to the group’s (especially Twilight’s) dismay. Even Sky had lectured the kid once. It was a wonder Wild wasn’t hurt after that fight.

Actually, as Legend thought back to the last few minutes, it was a wonder they found each other so quickly as well. It usually took at least an hour for him to find someone after these troublesome Shifts split them up, but Wild had come hurrying his way in, what, half that time? The cook was on a roll today, it seemed.

Legend felt his brows furrowing as he relayed the last thirty minutes in his mind. Wild had called his name from tens of yards away, at least, when Legend had been making zero noise in the pitch blackness other than his breathing, which he was sure wasn’t discernable (or audible) from that far away. But Wild had immediately known it was him. And it’s not like Wild had been calling each of their names in hopes that one of them would answer- he’d been calling him. Solely him, like he knew for sure it was Legend up ahead. How had he even known anyone was up ahead, let alone who? It was pitch fucking black in here and Wild hadn’t been holding anything that glowed or lit up the corridor - that Slate of his didn’t glow bright enough to illuminate much of anything around them, either. Wild had known it was him somehow…

“Legend- you’re hurt!”

… How had he even known that? Wild hadn’t pulled out that fire arrow yet to look. And Legend hadn’t told him.

That familiar pressure on his chest came back. Legend focused and he could feel that damn magic swirling through the air, running along the walls, billowing out like smoke.

What the hell was going on?

“Do you… have night vision gear?” Legend grunted as he limped along, eyes trained on Wild’s face carefully. He felt like he’d yelled instead of whispered.

Wild hummed. “No. Do you?”

Interesting. “No,” Legend said truthfully. That magic slithered and slinked around Legend’s feet. He forced his breathing to stay steady.

The fire arrow Wild was holding didn’t light up the path ahead very much but Legend could make out a fork in the corridor - great, a turn Legend had walked right past without even knowing. They could either continue straight or turn left and Wild steered him left without hesitation, not a hint of unsureness in his movements. A minute later and they came across another fork - Wild didn’t stop, turning with confidence. Maybe this was his Hyrule then. Maybe Wild knew this place, knew the layout. Oh thank the fucking Goddess- Legend had managed to find the one person in their group who knew something about this Shit Labyrinth.

They walked until Wild abruptly stopped in his tracks, Legend hobbling to adjust. He shot a confused look up at the kid but Wild’s gaze was trained on the void ahead of them, eyes darting across the hallway. Legend followed his gaze and predictably saw darkness.

“What is it?” he whispered, hand instinctively reaching over his shoulder for his sword only to hover around nothing.

Wild hesitated. “I don’t know,” he whispered back, then steered Legend to the wall closest to them. “Stay here.”

“Wild,” Legend hissed as he leaned against the wall, but Wild was already advancing down the corridor. He watched the cook’s figure get farther and farther away, the glow from the fire arrow getting smaller and smaller as Legend cursed and used the wall for support to limp after him.

To his relief, he only hobbled a few feet before Wild came back, expression vaguely disturbed from what Legend could make out in the low light.

“There’s spiders up ahead. Huge ones. Like I’m talkin’ the size of a boar kinda huge,” Wild whispered, wide-eyed.

Oh. Legend raised a brow. “You say that like you’ve never seen a Skulltula before.” Legend didn’t have Skulltulas where he’s from, but he’s been with the team long enough to see them from the other’s Hyrules.

“Can’t say I have,” Wild breathed. “I mean, I think I heard Sky talk about how to defeat them once. But I don’t have uh… Skulltulas back in my Hyrule.”

That had Legend pausing. He blinked. Once. Twice. Perhaps this was a case of monsters jumping through portals. It had to be. But why had he said back in his Hyrule?

Legend asked, just to be sure. It felt like he was uttering a curse as it left his tongue. “Are we… in your Hyrule?”

Wild gave him an odd look. “No,” he answered surely. “My Hyrule has labyrinths like this one, but none that are dark.”

Legend blinked again. The magic around him seeped into cracks in the walls. The gears in his head churned. “Well then how the hell do you know where you’re goi-”

Legend was interrupted as Wild suddenly widened his eyes and his gaze snapped to the void in front of them. Legend had a split second to follow suit before he saw a large, spindly leg, heard a couple telltale screeches, and then he was suddenly being tackled out of the way by Wild and tumbling to the ground.

The second between Legend standing and Legend being splayed out on the cold stone floor was a blur and it took him a beat to recognize the sounds of Skulltula shrieks and Wild’s echoey yells coming from somewhere down the corridor. Heart pounding, Legend scrambled to get up- the sound of a sword clanking against stone, another shriek- and his eyes darted to the fire arrow lying uselessly on the floor next to him- he’s got no light, he’s blind - and he snatched it up without a second thought.

Legend made to dart down the corridor toward the commotion but in the frenzy and the adrenaline he’d momentarily forgotten about his injured ankle - he gasped at the sudden jolt of pain that zipped up his leg and he clambered to the ground with a string of colorful curses. He breathed through the pain for a moment, teeth clenched as he tried to stand again, listening to the fight helplessly. A loud grunt from Wild, the sound of metal stabbing through something, a pained, ear-piercing screech that was cut off rather abruptly. A cacophony of echoed footsteps and the scuttle of spindly legs, the telltale woosh of a sword slicing through the air before hitting its mark.

It went on for a few beats before everything stilled, the sounds of struggle fading until there was only Wild’s quick breaths bouncing softly off the walls. The air roared again. Legend trained his ears, desperately trying to discern if Wild’s breathing was simply heavy or pained.

“Wild?” Legend called nervously and he didn’t particularly care whether his voice shook or not. He just wanted an answer.

An, “I’m okay,” flitted down the hall and Legend had to suppress a breath of relief as he struggled to stand. Hobbling closer with the fire arrow in hand, Legend could see the vague form of Wild delicately stepping over curled up spider bodies. “Are you okay?” the kid asked.

“I’m fine you idiot,” Legend grumbled, limping over and hovering the arrowhead over Wild’s form in search of injuries as he willed his heart to calm. “They didn’t bite you?”

“Don’t think so,” Wild mumbled, making an odd noise as he brushed himself off. “Got cobwebs on me, mainly.”

Legend was honestly amazed at how Wild got out of that unscathed as well. Skulltulas weren’t too dangerous but he’s heard some of them are venomous and they’re usually incredibly fast despite their size. Wild had fought several of them in complete darkness and the fight had ended just as fast as one with a couple of Bokoblins in broad daylight would.

Legend made his way closer to the bodies as Wild grumbled about them being creepy and reminding him of Ganon and- Legend would unpack that later, but for now he took to hovering the fire arrow over the spider corpses and furrowing his brows. He could see that Wild had taken to cutting off a few of their legs, but Legend was interested in the clean, accurate stab wounds along the bottom of their abdomens. They didn’t look messy and Wild most certainly hadn’t missed; they were each right in the dead center, quick and efficient - definitely not guesswork. Legend hadn’t seen any bioluminescence on the creatures to help them find their weak point. How had Wild finished them off that efficiently in the dark?

It was almost as if the darkness didn’t even affect the kid.

“Wait… I think that’s Time,” Wild spoke up.

Legend turned around, didn’t see a thing, so he trained his ears on the silence, didn’t hear a thing, and he was honestly getting a little pissed off about it. Did Wild just have godlike senses? What was this magic slowly pulsing out and flowing over the stone around the kid?

Before he could ask any of his questions, he heard a quiet, “Boys?” from the blackness and Legend felt such a big rush of relief at that voice that it was honestly embarrassing.

The fiery glow of their light source slowly illuminated a vague silhouette before Legend could make out Time’s recognizable shoulder guards and armor - the light reflected off his chestplate and created reflections of Wild’s mud-covered clothing and his own no-doubt ragged form, the image distorted, warped, and tinted with orange hues. His hair was shaggier than ever, some blood in it here and there, and there was a cut across his cheek that was bleeding sluggishly, but other than that and the black blood coating entire sections of his armor the man looked fine, if a little exhausted. If Legend hadn’t been paying attention, he would’ve missed the way Time’s good eye lit up, just a little, at seeing both of them in one piece.

They spent a minute to regroup and breathe, Time checking them both over for injuries despite their protests and reassurances that they were fine. The Old Man had then held up a very familiar looking bag and Legend could’ve hugged the man for a fucking hour when he saw the hilt of his tempered sword along with it.

They all argued for a bit on whether they should stay here and rest for a while (read: Time took one good look at Legend’s limping and said, “we’re sleeping right here on the floor,”) but they eventually settled into a compromise (Time lost). So they continued on, trekking through the identical halls with Wild taking the lead, still supporting Legend. They walked until their feet dragged on the stone and their shoulders slumped in both boredom and exhaustion, the day’s events taking a toll. Legend didn’t really have the energy to think about much of anything as he hobbled along with Wild’s help.

If Time was confused about Wild’s sure movements through the seemingly endless turns, he didn’t show it - he probably assumed that this was Wild’s Hyrule like Legend had. He wanted to ask, but he always had trouble getting straight answers out of the kid even when alone, so with Time being here it was a lost cause. Legend simply accepted defeat for now and tried not to lean too much weight on the cook.

Finally, finally , Legend looked up and he could’ve cried at the sight of daylight streaming in from a cracked doorway, vines slithering along the stone and leaves dancing in the breeze that gently blew through the opening. It smelled of grass and petrichor and nature, a welcome change from the dreary, stagnant, dusty air of the labyrinth.

He even saw a small grin on Time’s face as they stepped out into the sunlight, their eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness. He was sure they looked more than a little ragged (read: crazy), stepping out of a fucking cave and blinking at the harsh sun, clothes torn, hair unkempt, about as bedraggled as a person could get. But they were out. They were breathing fresh air and letting the sun kiss their skin. They’d found each other, and they were out.

The three simply stood there for a moment, basking in the sunlight. They all exchanged looks and none of them, not even Time, could hold back the relieved, giddy grins they gave each other.

 

+

 

The sun was saying her goodbyes, taking the light with her and leaving the fire under the cooking pot to take over, dusk already settling over them and bringing out the stars. An ever changing murmur overruled the choir of crickets as it hung in the air, volume climbing up to rowdy shouts and dipping down to soft chuckles as they conversed. They joked and laughed and teased, playful shoves giving way to mini-roughhousing matches until they settled into a round of telling bad ghost stories and reenacting past triumphs. With their resident cook delivering a hearty meal as always, they sat around camp and shared tales over dinner until their youngest would start to nod off or their oldest would tell them to go to bed.

On this particular night, the group seemed in high spirits with most of them gathered around the campfire and leaning forward in their seats as Warriors dramatically (and Legend does mean dramatically) recounting some battle or another from the war. The light from the fire doused them all in orange hues and warm tones, colored their clothes softer shades and spread their shadows far into the forest. There were excitable whoops and passionate hollers that disturbed the peace of the woods and echoed against the trees, loud questions and playful bickering through mouthfuls of foods and expressive hand motions - even the fire seemed more lively tonight, a bit brighter, a tad louder in its crackles and pops.

Legend was content to simply listen, letting their rambunctious energy flow over the camp as he threw a witty comment or two out when Warriors (inevitably) said something dumb or easy to mock. He found it easier to relax nowadays, surrounded by the group and their simple chatter and dumb jokes (he was sure it was because he had eight other capable, heavily armed Heroes on his side in case something went wrong - no other reason). But as he lazily scanned the group, mind elsewhere in some thoughtless void and no longer really latching onto Warriors’ exaggerated movements in his peripherals, he realized that his plate carried a different meal than the rest of them. The others seemed to be having some type of meat with a side of rice, but Legend looked down at his own plate and, oddly, saw salmon risotto. He stared at it, perplexed.

He scanned the others’ plates again. Meat and rice, all of them. Why was he the only one with something different? Did they run out of meat? Legend hadn’t told Wild about any allergies so it couldn’t be anything like that. He also hadn’t requested anything different to his knowledge. Was this a prank or something on Warriors’ part? If so, it was a lame prank.

It wasn’t that Legend particularly cared - he wasn’t a picky eater and pretty much everything Wild made was fucking delicious, so he’d gladly stuff his face with the Champion’s salmon risotto any day of the week, but it just seemed odd. Wild did take a great (and admittedly endearing) amount of care in his food preparations and making sure that everyone got what they wanted with what supplies they had. The kid knew of all their quirks when it came to food - Sky’s nut allergy, Wind’s distaste for the texture of ground beef, Four’s weirdly erratic cravings, the list goes on - but Legend, again, wasn’t a very picky eater and he never really complained about or requested something special from Wild’s cooking. He didn’t need anything in particular when it came to food, and the meals Wild made them were usually about as balanced as they could be. He couldn’t think of a reason he’d gotten something different.

Legend scanned the camp until he found Wild, seated next to Twilight like he tended to be, a small, amused grin playing along his lips as Warriors and Wind started bickering about Hylia-knows-what. He would just leave it be and eat his dinner - it smelled damn good, that was for sure - but curiosity won over indifference and he found himself standing up and making his way over to Wild.

He plopped himself down next to the cook and balanced his plate in his lap. Wild seemed too engrossed in the loud argument that half the group had now decided to join (Hylia- was Time even putting his two cents in?) to notice, so Legend leaned toward him a bit to snag his attention. The cook turned to look at him questioningly, lopsided, amused grin still on his face.

“Is there a reason I got something different from everybody else?” Legend asked quietly. It sounded vaguely accusatory and ungrateful, and despite the fact that Legend’s tone of voice typically didn’t match his words anyway and the others had caught onto that, he still kind of felt bad. He shoved a forkful of salmon risotto into his mouth, as if to squash any worries Wild might have about it being badly cooked.

The grin slipped from Wild’s face and the kid’s gaze turned confused as he looked Legend in the eye, chewing his own food slowly.

“They’re having rabbit,” Wild answered through his food, and he said it in a tone that implied Legend’s question was silly and the answer was obvious. And then they both stiffened and froze.

Legend stared. Wild’s eyes widened just a margin, like he realized his mistake - a mistake Legend wasn’t entirely knowledgeable of but his lagging brain was catching up - and the kid darted his gaze away to stare at his own plate. Wild swallowed, played with the ends of his tunic like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Wind let out a shout as Warriors pulled him into a noogie, the others letting out loud laughs and chuckles, but in their little bubble made of thick air and tension crackling like a lightning storm, neither of them heard it.

Legend sensed eyes on him and flicked his gaze up to see Twilight staring, expression unreadable. The ranch hand’s gaze darted away to stare at the fire, posture stiff. Legend looked at Twilight’s plate. Rabbit untouched.

Wild spoke, hands fidgety, voice steady, but if Legend listened hard enough he could hear the nervous hesitation between words. “I just uh… got the feeling you didn’t like rabbit. You tend to- to not like tender stuff so much.”

Wild’s never been good at throwing out convincing lies and Legend’s always been good at catching them. It was a bullshit lie and both of them knew it.

Legend glanced at Twilight’s plate again, discarded by his feet in the grass even though only half of it was eaten. He looked up at the ranch hand’s face, looked at the eyes that stared into the fire like his life depended on it, and there, in between the cracks of his carefully schooled expression, he saw confusion. Utter bewilderment.

Twilight didn’t tell him. He couldn’t have- not when Twilight seemed just as confused as Legend. Wild would’ve given Twi a different dinner too if he’d gotten that kind of info from him - the guy seemed just as unable to stomach rabbit after that incident and Wild would likely assume that and give him something else. And on that line of thinking, assuming Twilight had told it correctly, Wild would’ve given Sky something else too - Legend glanced over to where Sky sat across camp, laughing and leaning on Hyrule with his plate next to him on the log they sat on, rabbit ignored.

Wild somehow knew, and Twilight didn’t tell him, and Legend was willing to bet Sky didn’t either. Sky’s just not that kind of guy. Wild knew, but he didn’t know that Twilight and Sky were in on the secret. So how the fuck did he know?

Legend stayed quiet, mind screaming at him to interrogate, to question, to squeeze the info out of the little goblin, but he stayed put. Studied him. Surveyed the nervous little pokes at his food with a fork, the shifting of his feet in the grass.

And then Wild looked up at him and that nervousness was gone, replaced with a strange look that had Legend’s stomach trying to retreat up his throat. It was that knowing gaze, that foreboding look in his eyes that made Legend feel impossibly small and insignificant for reasons he couldn’t fathom - perhaps because the emotions in there seemed so much bigger than everything Legend knew. But there was something else there this time; something mischievous hidden in those eyes, maybe even a little daring. Like he was offering a challenge. Perhaps he realized he’d dug himself in a hole. Maybe he was taking a bold leap of faith to get out of it.

Wild’s face was still kind, a sliver of nervous jitteriness still present in his posture, but his eyes were a silent dare. “Sorry for assuming. Did you want some?”

“No,” was his answer, but he said it too quickly. He let it slip out with a little too much oomph.

Wild gave him a perky smile. “See? I guessed right!” he chuckled, pointing at Legend’s plate with his fork. “Does your salmon taste okay? I hope it was a good substitute.”

Legend saw it and he knew it was a poor attempt at changing the subject, but he found his muddled brain was too full and too confused and he simply nodded, not knowing another course of action. Wild seemed happy with that answer and looked back to their rowdy group, chuckling at the scene of Wind being carried over the Captain’s shoulder like a burlap sack.

Legend wanted to turn Wild back around and demand some answers, but the kid was already laughing and joining in the fun with the others, already engrossed in giggling like an idiot with Hyrule and Sky and Legend was too baffled to really think straight. No, he needed time to process it. Legend shoved another forkful of risotto into his mouth and stared at the lip of his plate as the gears churned.

He sensed movement in his peripherals and he looked over to see Twilight shaking his head, eyes wide as he mouthed the words we didn’t tell him over Wild’s shoulder. Legend stared for a moment before he nodded numbly, an I know you didn’t in his gaze.

Legend turned back to his food, took another bite that he could barely enjoy. Laughter erupted from around him, sounding distant inside his little bubble, and he found that he couldn’t join in.

Honestly, what the fuck was going on?

 

+

 

A song came from the bird perched on Wild’s arm, cheery and high-pitched and just a little too loud. 

Legend’s head hurt.

The camp was peaceful; not quite in the sense of silence if Hyrule and Warriors’ noisy card game was of any indication, but there were no monsters and no battles for their lives taking place, so Legend was quietly grateful. The past few days have been rough on them - constant traveling, setting up camp, getting ambushed and then traveling some more - and last night was probably the first full night of rest the group has gotten in a long few days. Time had advised them to take it easy today, to recharge now that they seemed to be in a safe area, and they were all following that advice without protest. Twilight and his mentor were chatting quietly, both of them sparing amused glances toward Hyrule and Warriors’ game. The Captain was getting his ass brutally kicked; Wind was even helping him and he was still losing. Four was humming something to himself as he dug through his bag, looking content. And Legend was sat up against a tree, cleaning the dirt and grime off his shield and idly listening to Wild and Sky a couple yards away, sitting up against a tree of their own.

Legend snuck a glance their way where they both sat in the grass surrounded by flowers that haven’t bloomed yet, a tiny bird - a sparrow, Legend guessed - hopping along the length of Wild’s arm and chirping rhythmically. He could hear Sky’s delighted chuckle from beside Wild, always eager to try and befriend the animals the Champion somehow attracts to the camp. The Hero held out a gentle hand, following Wild’s graceful motions of running a knuckle down the back of the bird and flattening its feathers.

Seeing a squirrel or a bird or even a deer (yes, a deer) following Wild around camp was not quite routine, but somewhat common nowadays and while it took a while, the novelty of it wore off eventually. As weird as it was, it was a normal occurrence at this point and other than the few curious looks and pats the animals got, not many of them typically crowded around to look anymore. Sky still looked rather enthralled by most of them, and Legend couldn’t blame him for taking the opportunity to learn more about the Surface. He distantly wondered what animals were on Skyloft.

As Sky’s soft laughs and coos drifted around the camp and the sparrow’s little songs bounced off the walls of Legend’s skull, he mulled over the magic that flowed between Sky’s fingertips and spiralled around the bird’s talons. He felt it weave between the unbloomed flowers around them, felt it prod at the closed up petals, sensed it wrap around Sky’s sailcloth and climb along the fabric. He latched onto the feeling of juxtaposing complexity it gave off; it felt so impossibly murky and yet crisp, heavy yet weightless, simple and yet incoherent. It moved with purpose at times, spreading itself out over the grass and reaching as far as it could go, but other times it seemed to have no goal, no objective, and it aimlessly wandered and prodded at its surroundings. It didn’t behave in the same way other magic tended to. It didn’t behave like anything Legend had ever seen.

Then again, neither did Wild. He trekked through dense forests and jungles with ease and grace, movements resembling a goddamn wraith smoothly passing through the trees. Wild and Wild alone was the only thing stopping Hyrule or Wind from picking every mushroom they saw and gobbling it down without thought - with how much the kid knows about what is and isn’t edible, you’d think he had a damn degree on the subject. Wild could also, apparently, smell what ingredients needed to be added to their meal when he cooked - that was fucking weird. The kid looked at fishing rods like they were some magical contraption made by Hylia herself. He talked of death so casually that it genuinely seemed to frighten even Time (Legend supposed that made sense, but it didn’t make it any less odd… or sad). Animals flocked to him like they were children and Wild was carrying around a bag of candy - Wind had told them that he once saw Wild ride a grizzly bear; Legend hadn’t believed him at first, but that was weeks ago. Nowadays he honestly wouldn’t doubt it. He’d ridden on a Lynel’s back once. Why not a bear?

Goddesses- he sounded like Wild now. That’s not typically a good thing.

The kid was odd. The magic he was putting off was odd, unlike anything Legend had ever felt before. The kid’s Slate was odd, but he’d already checked to see if the magic was coming from the device itself. It wasn’t. Although… they did feel somewhat similar.

The very signature of Wild’s magic held just a hint of the odd strictness that came from the kid’s Slate. It had the same tone, the same consistency, the same fantastical blend of magic and miracles - but it was just a hint. Just a trickle. The rest was made of that impossibly intricate, malleable, enigmatic pressure. But now, as Legend focused hard on the magic that licked at the edges of the overly-polished shield in his lap, he felt the subtle undertone of that telltale Sheikah tech buzz. The same buzz he’d felt from the Towers back in Wild’s Hyrule - the Shrines, the Divine Beasts, the Guardians, even the odd-looking saddle and bridle on Wild’s horse. They all gave off an almost camouflaged hum, a unique, fizzy pulse of energy, and that same thing was right here, hidden away in this bizarre, permeating mist pooling around Legend’s legs. A blink and you’ll miss it kind of thing.

They shared something in origin. Legend just didn’t know what.

This is why his fucking head hurt. All this theorizing and keeping track of weird tidbits and facts that may or may not lead to something revolutionary. Sure, he could just ask the kid, but something was keeping him from going the easy route. Perhaps it’s the possibility that whatever Legend’s trying to poke his nose in is somewhere he doesn’t belong - perhaps Wild has never brought this peculiar magic up for a reason. There’s a lot of unknowns and tricky territory when it comes to their pasts, and Wild is most certainly no exception. He may have told them all the gist of his journey, but Legend knew Wild kept the gruesome bits to himself. Legend knew there was much, much more to the simple, “I freed the Divine Beasts and killed Calamity Ganon,” than Wild let on. The kid may have told them about his death, about how the scars marring his face are from the Guardians that struck him down, but he didn’t tell them about any of the other scars - the pink slices along his abdomen, the patch on his right arm that had been horribly burnt, the oddly-shaped branch of red lines over one shoulder that suspiciously looked like it came from a lightning strike. There’s a lot of areas that not many of the others have tried to step into. And contrary to popular belief, Legend didn’t want to be the first to upset him in trying.

It was a tricky, blurry line that Legend didn’t want to cross.

He heard Four’s voice from across the camp, calling Wild’s name and motioning for the kid to come over. The Champion let the little sparrow hop to Sky’s unprepared hands before standing up and throwing a be right back over his shoulder, leaving the poor Skyloftian to stare wide-eyed at the bird in his palm and to keep his hands from moving even an inch, as if he thought one movement would kill the damn thing. It let out a rhythmic, high-pitched call as it tilted its head. Sky gave it a somewhat giddy, wobbly smile.

But that wasn’t what Legend was looking at. He was looking at the patch of flowers Wild had been sitting next to, previously unbloomed a whole ten minutes ago, but now bright and alive and open, petals splayed out to take in the sun. Legend blinked at them, that weight in his chest ever present.

It was a tricky, blurry line that Legend didn’t want to cross, but curiosity was a bitch sometimes. He needed to take a leap of faith.

 

+

 

Leaves rustled ever so slightly as Legend shifted, slowly nocking an arrow and keeping his eyes on the prize. Or, the vague shape of a deer that he could barely see.

The sun was already settling into the mountains by the time Wild had informed them that oops, we’re running really low on meat, maybe we should go hunting and none of them were about to let Wild roam the woods in the middle of the night, alone, so Legend had been dragged into accompanying the kid. Any other time he wouldn’t particularly mind, but the sky was already darkening to a dull blue and the forest floor was just brambles and shadows, and forgive him for not having night vision but he can’t fucking see. Wild, the common-sense-avoiding gremlin, didn’t seem to notice the problem with this and continued on through the thick maze of shrubbery with a gracefulness Legend was honestly jealous of.

Despite the ridiculous time (seriously, who hunts in these low ass light conditions?) Legend had managed to track down a deer grazing in the shadows and he’d pulled out his bow and prepared for a clean shot. He let his breathing pause for a moment, lining up the arrow and getting his aim just right before pulling the string back. He distantly wondered how in the world Wild had missed this one; the cook had gone this way earlier and he seemed to have unnaturally sharp senses so Legend was a bit surprised to see this doe still standing. He supposed that just proved his point - even Wild had walked right past their dinner.

Legend’s fingers loosened around the bowstring. He was seconds from firing when a hand came from the shrubbery surrounding him and yanked his bow down without warning, a rushed “not that one!” being hissed at him as Legend let go of the arrow prematurely. It flew a pathetic yard or so before landing in a bush, the doe’s head popping up with a flick of an ear. He watched it retreat into the shadows and Legend only spent a second mourning the loss before he rounded on Wild who still had a hold of his bow.

Legend yanked his weapon from Wild’s grasp. “What do you mean not that one- I had a perfect shot! It would’ve been good meat!” he growled.

“She’s a mother!”

Legend felt his expression lose some of its anger in exchange for bewilderment. “The fuck do you mean?”

“She’s a mother,” Wild repeated, sounding very sure of himself. “Her fawns are still too young to survive on their own.”

Legend blinked. “Did you actually get hit on the fucking head?”

Wild ignored his jab and turned his gaze to the forest. “I’ll show you. Just promise me not to shoot them.”

Legend thought he was joking, but when Wild looked back at him expectantly, a hint of nervousness in his gaze when he didn’t get an answer, he wasn’t so sure. He studied the kid for a moment, the last of the anger disappearing as he searched Wild’s genuine eyes.

“Yeah… I promise,” Legend mumbled, feeling like there was only one path to take from here.

Wild gave a soft smile and he was suddenly weaving his way through the trees effortlessly, moving scarily silently through the brambles. Legend swallowed down the vat of questions wanting to pour out of his mouth and followed.

Something was wrong. Something was different. Legend, at this point, was used to the pressure on his chest when Wild was near him - the magic licking at his clothes and wrapping around his shoulders was a normal occurrence and Legend was so used to it that even when he was surrounded by the stuff, he barely ever noticed. Sure, he could still sense it, could still follow where it was going, could still tune into the sensations it gave off, but he supposed he’d been around it so long now that he was sort of familiar with the pressure and it no longer felt so heavy. But tonight? For some reason, it just clung to him like some sticky fucking goo, all of it just gravitating towards him, latching on and digging into his very being like it was searching for something. As subtle as the pressure was, it was still almost hard to breathe through. Despite being in a vast forest he felt almost claustrophobic, caged in by this weird mist that felt like it was rummaging through his very soul. As far as he’s seen, this magic was harmless - whatever the hell it was doing, its intent wasn’t to hurt or kill - but it usually didn’t crowd around people so much. It typically brushed against them, light and airy and unnoticeable to most, so what the hell was it doing now? On treks like these, it would usually spread itself out over the forest and snake around tree branches, not converge in one place and cling to whatever it touched like it did now.

Legend watched the back of Wild’s head as he led him through a pathless part of the woods, movements sure and pace steady. The kid was leading him seemingly nowhere and Legend felt the anger coming back as the last of their daylight was whisked away by shadows.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask where the hell they were going, Wild slowed and looked back, motioning for him to join him behind a jagged rock formation. Legend reluctantly obeyed, but made sure to give the cook an impatient glare as he joined him in crouching behind the craggy stone. Wild simply smiled at him, grin holding amusement from a joke Legend had apparently missed, and the kid poked his head over the rock they crouched behind. Legend hesitated before copying his movements.

The doe Legend had an arrow aimed at earlier was feeding on the grass ten or so yards away, two little bundles of brown and white nestled innocently near her hooves. They couldn’t have been more than a week old - tiny, frail little things, legs flimsy, eyes large and young, and Legend had never been the type of guy to call things cute , but with their big eyes and distant, soft little mewls, he supposed there was a first time for everything.

He tore his gaze away from the family to glance at Wild, who looked right at home in the woods. He leaned against the rocks in the most relaxed posture Legend had seen from him in a while, chin resting on the gravelly, jagged surface, eyes wandering between the mother and her fawns with a certain delighted fondness in his gaze - the same look he gave Epona, just a bit muted. He looked so at peace that Legend- no, a small part of him, a tiny part, he swears it - didn’t have it in him to interrupt it.

Legend stared and thought of how much more at home Wild was in the wilderness, of how the land never seemed to want to trick him like it did the others - like Wild knew all its secrets, all its caves and catacombs and hills and valleys. He thought of the flowers blooming while in Wild’s presence, thought of the birds that chirped to him and hopped around on his shoulders, of his completely silent footsteps and his ability to navigate in pitch blackness like he knew the lay of a foreign Hyrule by heart.

Legend thought of the kid’s title, Hero of the Wild, and he decided that it couldn’t be more fitting.

But these weren’t just odd quirks of his personality. These were things normal people shouldn’t be able to do.

And Legend wanted to know how.

“You didn’t find them here earlier, did you?” Legend whispered and it sounded more like a statement than a question. Wild’s eyes flickered to him, gaze knowing, but Legend felt the need to explain himself anyway. Just so they were on the same page. “The fawns. You didn’t find them here earlier. You just… knew.”

A beat of silence. Wild’s lips twitched up into a smile that Legend could barely discern in the low light. Despite the sun having already set and the deep shadows curling around them like ribbons, Wild’s eyes bore right into Legend’s like he could see perfectly.

The pressure was back, and Legend felt like he’d implode under the magic and Wild’s stare.

Wild didn’t answer, perhaps because the last bit wasn’t a question, so Legend continued. “You know a lot of things, don’t you?”

It sounded sarcastic, not in the tone but simply because it came out of his mouth, but Wild simply smiled again.

“More than most, I suppose,” the kid offered softly, gaze piercing into a part of him he didn’t even know he had.

Legend felt like they were both speaking a language neither of them knew.

He considered himself a patient person with most things, despite what people assumed about him. Time-based puzzles were easy, waiting for an opening during battle was simple, fishing was effortless despite it being incredibly time-consuming, but it was social interaction that dwindled his patience down into irritation. If this were a puzzle in a dungeon or a riddle made of rhymes he’d be perfectly fine, but it wasn’t.

That’s never been a problem for him before this. He’s never been interested in other people (minus a select few he prefers not to think about); he’s never cared enough to dig into any issues. His troublesome curiosity simply hasn’t latched onto many people in his lifetime, but now, with this new group of impossibly compassionate and surprisingly loveable idiots, that’s been changing. He’s never had the problem of having to tug back his curiosity like a rabid dog on a leash - if he was curious, he’d investigate, simple as that. But people didn’t work like that. And Legend was having a hard time balancing the acts.

He felt the magic wind around the rings on his fingers. He heard it thrum and buzz in a rhythm that sounded like a heartbeat.

Take a leap of faith.

Legend swallowed. “Just what do you see that we don’t?”

Wild’s impossibly bright eyes flickered across Legend’s face in search of something. Legend studied him back, gaze relentless as they locked eyes, and he spotted flecks of hesitation in the blue. The kid looked like he was figuring out a puzzle himself, soaking in Legend’s words, his intent, his goals. There was a storm in the kid’s eyes - there always was, and the group had learned to decipher it a long time ago because they all knew that Wild’s words never matched his emotions. But his eyes did; his eyes gave him away. And right now, there was so much going on there that Legend had a hard time keeping up.

Wild had apparently found whatever it was he was looking for because the kid slumped his tense shoulders, his gaze lost most of that sharpness that had stabbed through Legend’s soul, and the cook gave him a soft smile but it was so, so loaded. Haunted yet apathetic, knowing yet incredibly naive, ancient but impossibly young. Bittersweet. It somehow held more words than anyone could ever utter and Legend would never outwardly admit it, but seeing expressions as heavy as that one on Wild’s face will always hurt him.

Wild gave him one more look and seemed to steel himself - he took a subtle, steadying breath, and forced his gaze to stay on Legend. The veteran, out of sheer respect, kept that gaze.

“Something… happened while I was in the Shrine of Resurrection,” Wild started quietly and Legend’s brain immediately backpedaled. You’re going too far- you’re asking too much- but if Wild noticed his sudden turmoil he didn’t show it. He just looked down at his lap where his fingers weaved between each other, fidgeting. “I can’t really… explain it. I-I don’t know. I guess I can uh… ‘see,’ a lot more things now. Since the Shrine.”

Legend blinked at him when the cook paused and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “What do you mean by, ‘ “see” more things’? What things?”

Wild smiled softly at that, looking up at the trees above them like they held secrets in their leaves. “ Everything,” he whispered. “I can just… feel it. All of it. I can feel where the trees are without looking at them. I know where the ground dips and where caves go. Where dungeons are inside mountains - I suppose it’s like… echolocation, in a way. I can see people’s souls. Hear their heartbeats. I know where they are without searching. Monsters too. Animals. Anything and everything that has magic flowing around it, I feel - even the flow of it all, like- like I can see the roots underneath us gathering magic through the ground right now.”

Wild let a hand run over the roots of the tree they sat under, fingers grazing over thick moss and rough bark. His eyes were far away as he took in the forest around them, young wonder in the kid’s gaze. Legend saw the treetops. Wild saw something more.

“I don’t think I could see any of this Before. I don’t remember… feeling all of it in any of the memories I have. I think… it only started after the Shrine.”

Legend stared, thought back to all the times where Wild did something seemingly impossible or just fuckin’ weird, and suddenly, even if Legend didn’t quite grasp the nonsense he’d just spilled, he understood. Or at least, he understood a little.

“You’re not fucking with me,” Legend deadpanned in a question but even as he said it, he didn’t really mean it. Despite it being fucking crazy, there was no way Wild was lying. Unless this was some elaborate fucking prank that’s lasted the entire time they’ve known each other and Wild’s just stupidly good at faking having superpowers. “Like… you see the magic flow of the world. You… you can see people’s souls.”

Wild nodded, and Legend could see in the kid’s eyes that he was nervous, afraid even. Perhaps worried about Legend’s reaction. Maybe scared of sharing this side of himself. “I know it’s… kind of weird. Crazy, probably. And hard to believe. But I really can see it.”

Legend blinked, gears churning, mind rolling in shallow theories and improbable conclusions. He thought back to darkness and stone walls. Thought of spiders and effortless triumphs where there shouldn’t be.

“The labyrinth, a couple of months ago. You said it was like… echolocation,” he mumbled, and in the back of his mind he knew his sentences weren’t quite piecing together in a coherent way, but thankfully, Wild seemed to get it.

“Yeah, I could uh… ‘see,’ the walls. Or beyond the walls if I needed to. I knew the way because I could see-”

“You could see a map of the place in your mind,” Legend finished for him in a breath of astonished air, nodding to himself. “And the- the giant tower you climbed a while back. It was like you already knew the path up- you weren’t looking for any handholds.”

Wild gave a nod, looking oddly relieved and vaguely surprised as more questions came. “I didn’t need to. I could already see them.”

Legend nodded again and his actions probably looked rather tedious but he didn’t really care. His mind was going a mile a minute trying to wrap itself around the concept of- of all of it, of the implications, the possibilities. Does that mean Wild could somehow tell when handholds- no, when the ground was stable or not? Can he ‘see,’ man-made structures as well as natural ones - he’d said anything and everything that has magic flow is in his radar, and man-made things aren’t nearly as potent as things in nature unless they’re imbued with a specific magical purpose. Can Wild honest to Hylia fight in pitch darkness? Does he even need light to function? Can Wild navigate this forest with his eyes closed?

It’s not just that either- what kind of things can Wild see in people’s souls? What does a soul even consist of- even after all the years of research, no one’s really even been sure what the hell souls are. What does one look like? Are they made of a unique magic altogether or do they match their owner’s signatures? What kind of things can reading a soul even tell you? Their true personality? Their thoughts? Maybe emotions? What about soulmates- are they actually real? He’d said he could see animals’ souls as well; Legend didn’t even know animals had souls.

He thought of magic that billowed out and spread itself over rough terrain, thought of the way it twisted around tree trunks and dripped over cliff sides. Thought of the way it darted across the battlefield during fights like lightning only to simply swirl harmlessly around monsters until Wild picked them off with his bow. Thought of the way it shared the same electric, bubbly buzz as Wild’s Slate, as the Sheikah Towers, as the Shrines. As the Shrine of Resurrection.

He studied the way the magic, right now, crawled over the brambles and prodded at Legend’s very being. His heart was thumping a little faster, a little louder than usual. And Wild could hear it.

Legend suddenly cursed to himself and leaned back against the rock they still sat behind. “Fucking- that’s what that magic is.”

Wild raised an eyebrow. “What magic?”

“The magic that you’re constantly spewing out,” Legend gestured to Wild’s form vaguely. “Fucking covers every inch of the place; I’ve never known what it was.”

The kid blinked at him owlishly. “Wait,” he mumbled. “I put out magic?”

Their eyes locked for a moment, baffled gaze meeting incredulous stare. No fucking way. “Are you… are you telling me that you’re putting out that much magic and you don’t even know about it?”

“Uhm,” came the intelligent answer.

“Wild- what-”

“It doesn’t bother you guys, does it?” the kid blurted out, an oddly nervous look about him as he fidgeted with the slightly frayed ends of his tunic.

Legend paused. “What? No,” he waved him off. “The others probably don’t even feel it. Except maybe ‘Rule.”

Wild made a small oh, eyes darting to the fidgeting hands in his lap. They looked back up at him sheepishly. “What does it… feel like?”

Legend thought for a moment on how to properly condense such a complex feeling into spoken word. He’s always had trouble explaining how magic felt to people who weren’t versed in it. It was such a unique feeling that there really wasn’t much he could compare it to in the, “normal,” world.

“... Nature,” Legend finally answered. Before, he’d considered the presence to be unnatural and maybe even a little heavy, but now that Legend knew what it was, what it was doing - simply giving its owner a sharper view of the world - he was inclined to rethink that. “It’s really hard to notice, honestly. You have to focus to even pick it apart from everything else. But it… feels like nature. Complex, and bigger than us, I suppose. It blends right in despite that.”

Legend wondered what it was like, to see what Wild sees. How different was his perspective from the others’? What was it like to see beyond walls and look at people’s souls? Was it possible for Wild to even describe it, or was it so unique that you had to feel it yourself to really know? What did Wild see in Legend’s soul?

Wait.

“That’s how you knew about my beast form,” Legend blurted out. “Does my soul show that to you?”

Wild scratched the back of his head. “Uh- yeah… sorry. I know that’s, like, a huge breach of privacy but I can’t really help what it all shows me. I-I didn’t tell anyone else, I promise!”

Legend wasn’t concerned about that, honestly. Somehow, he just knew Wild wouldn’t do that to him. (He distantly wondered when that had happened; when Legend had put so much faith and trust into this kid that he’d let one of his biggest secrets slip and not even be worried about it.) Though, it did make him think…

He wondered just how many secrets Wild kept in that crazy brain of his. He wondered how many of them were actually the kid’s own. Having an ability as insightful as Wild’s couldn’t be all good - Legend was smarter than that (or maybe he was just a pessimist). He’s never been one to grow hungry for power, never been one to get lost in it, and he typically saw abilities like that for what they were - both a blessing and a curse. He wondered how many times Wild’s been shown something he didn’t want to see.

“So wait- you aren’t… mad?”

Legend startled. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

Wild didn’t answer for a moment, and Legend was starting to piece together why the kid might’ve looked so nervous for this. “Well, I just… I thought you’d be mad cuz… I mean… I know things that I shouldn’t. A-And it’s not like I meant to find these things out, but- but I know them now and it’s a massive breach of everyone’s privacy and I know you guys don’t want anyone knowing this stuff. But- but it’s also- it’s a tool. Ya’know? It’s a useful ability and- and I could’ve been using it this whole time to make our jobs a little easier and it’s generally the rule that if you’ve got something to help, you should use it, and-”

“What’re you on about?” Legend stopped him there before he had a chance to start spiralling, tilting his chin up and narrowing his glare. “You have been using it to help out. We likely wouldn’t have gotten into that tower if you hadn’t climbed it. Neither me nor Time would’ve gotten out of that labyrinth if you and your magic hadn’t been there to find the exit. I feel your magic shoot across the battlefield almost every fight- you’ve got to be doing something there. Even if the others don’t notice, you’ve been silently helping out for months.”

Legend chose to ignore the wide-eyed, astonished look Wild was giving him. “And yeah, I will admit, I’m a little… unsettled that you might know a lot more about us than you let on, but it’s not like you can help it. Your powers just show that stuff to you, right? You don’t have a say in what you do or don’t see. So it’s not like I can get mad at you for that.”

Wild’s eyes stayed on him for a moment, the heavy storm in there settling on Legend’s shoulders, but the veteran held his gaze, as if giving a silent promise. The cook finally looked down, seemingly happy to stare at the scars along his own knuckles. “What if the others aren’t as understanding as you?” he spoke quietly, almost a whisper, like the words were forbidden.

Legend carefully schooled back the sad look that tried to wriggle its way onto his face. He tsk ’d instead. “Trust me, kid, they’ve all got something weird going on. Your strange, nature-sixth-sense powers will just be added to the pile.”

Wild gave him an unsure look, a tint of fear hidden away in there that the vet just barely caught. Legend let his gaze soften. Just a bit. Only a little. “Wild, remind yourself who you’re talking about.”

“Farm boy would go to the ends of the fucking Earth for you and the Old Man would rather die than make you sad. I don’t think Sky’s ever been angry in his life and Wind would just it’s cool. Four’s the only one with brains in this group and he’d be pretty chill about it - I’m almost certain he’s seen some weird magic in his day anyway. I don’t think Pretty Boy will ever stop being proud of you and ‘Rule fuckin’ adores you- hell, he’s got weird magic too so he’ll probably just be excited about it. And I’m sure as hell not mad.”

Past the embarrassed blush on the kid’s cheeks, Legend could still see the shoulders that had shrunken into themselves, could still spot the hesitance infesting his eyes. It reminded him of the night that Wild had told them of the Great Calamity, of the faces in the picture hung on his wall, of the gruesome, horrible fate that had befallen not just his friends, but him as well. He’d looked so scared that night as he recounted it all, unwilling to look anyone in the eye and keeping his tone flat, numb, like he was reading an excerpt out of a textbook - his voice only changing when the particularly upsetting parts came up, words and hands shaking.

Legend remembered Wild seeming genuinely confused when they offered their support, the same, “You’re not mad?” leaving the kid in that tiny, brittle voice, and even back then, when Legend hadn’t been as close to him as he was now, he’d barely been able to contain the look of pure sorrow on his face.

To see an echo of that same Wild, still withdrawn and still terrified of disappointing them despite the months of progress he’s made, upset Legend much more than he’d like to admit.

“Kid. There’s not gonna be mad. They weren’t mad when you told us about how you died,” Legend assured quietly, a mental why would we ever be mad at you for fighting for your kingdom on the tip of his tongue. “They’re not gonna be mad at you for this.”

Wild’s eyes flicked up to pierce his soul again and Legend let him search. The crickets sang in between the lull in their words, nature reclaiming the silence.

Wild finally broke the spell after a long moment by sitting up straighter, eyes flickering away to look up at the treetops. “It’s getting dark,” he mumbled despite it having been dark for a while now. “The others are probably worried.”

Legend couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed at something as the kid stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants. “I know we didn’t catch anything,” Wild said, “but I’ve got enough meat in my Slate for one more night, I think.”

Wild offered a hand to Legend and he took it, standing up and brushing himself off. He frowned as he watched the cook walk past him, starting their trek back to camp. Legend followed.

A few long moments of leaves rustling and the creaks of branches being bent back accompanied them before Legend spoke. “Are you gonna tell them?”

His voice was quiet, question simple and yet incredibly complicated. Legend chanced a glance at the kid when he didn’t respond for a moment.

“Not yet,” Wild finally answered, easily navigating a tricky section of roots and brambles. His voice was quiet too, like he was afraid of his own answer. “Not tonight.”

A distant laugh up ahead alerted them that the camp was near. From here, they could distantly see the campfire illuminate the trees in orange, silhouetted figures bustling about and drawing long shadows across the forest floor.

“But I think you’re right,” Wild spoke up as he paused in their trek. Legend stopped and looked back at him to see the kid giving the distant light of their campsite a fond look, eyes gentle. “They’ve been with me through thick and thin. They wouldn’t just… toss me out for something like that. Right?”

“So maybe someday I will. But until then…?”

Wild’s eyes flitted to Legend’s, a weighted question in his gaze - a look that told Legend that Wild was entrusting him and only him with something incredibly sacred to the kid. Legend didn’t miss how rare this was. He didn’t miss how, of all the kind and trustworthy Heroes in the group that Wild could’ve opened up to, it’d been Legend , the snarky, withdrawn, sometimes just plain rude one.

Trust is a hard thing to earn. Wild’s trust is even harder.

Legend gave the tiniest of grins at the kid’s questioning look. “Until then, you’re secret safe with me.”

Wild smiled then, bright and loose and untamed, just like his Title suggested, and Legend couldn’t help but smile a little back. And if, days down the line, the kid started asking him to join him on patrol a lot more often, Legend wouldn’t dare utter a word of complaint.

Notes:

Wild: *starts explaining the weird shit he can do*
Legend: oh yeah, it’s all comin together

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