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They were in some time in-between, the area unfamiliar to all of them. There had been a small horde of monsters near sunset, and they had only traveled far enough away to leave the battlefield behind. However to the trained nose of a soldier the smell of blood lingered in the air, mixing with the normally appetizing smell of a hearty stew. Warriors swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat, his stomach churning as he watched the chunks of meat swirl around his bowl.
“Not hungry Captain?” Twilight’s voice made him jump. How long had he been sitting there staring?
“Starving.” Warriors replied with what he hoped was a normal smile. “Just a bit out of it. The last two jumps were really close together.” He picked up his hunk of bread and dipped it in his stew, pushing the chunks of meat down and out of sight.
“Gods I feel you there. Whoever’s in charge of these things needs to give us a break.” Legend spoke from across the fire.
“Maybe we should call the night early then?” Time suggested, earning a whine from Wind.
“No way. I’m not tired at all!” Their youngest member declared.
“Then you wouldn’t mind taking the first watch then?” Warriors said as he clapped his hand on Wind’s shoulder and completely failed to hold in his laugh at the sailor’s betrayed look. “I’ll take second watch, okay?” Wind huffed but agreed, and Hyrule volunteered to take the last watch.
The group split after finishing their meal, and went to their assigned duties before settling for the night. The routine was calming and Warriors laid down in his bedroll with a much clearer head. There was no reason to be so worked up after a battle. Especially a battle that was so small that no one had even gotten hurt. Warriors took a deep breath, the wind now clear and bringing with it only the smell of the forest around them. He felt calm. It washed over him even as his heart still buzzed as he fell asleep.
His eyes shot open to the sun high above. Everything was so quiet save for the lappings of the stream they were camped next to. A bird lazily wove through the skies, casting a momentary shadow across the roof of his tent.
It was strange to hear so little. He was so used to the constant noise of an army camp outside of his captain’s tent. The constant clangs of swords hitting off one another during training and the gossip of soldiers given time to rest. He was so used to a loud voice outside to wake him up before the sun passed the horizon. So used to meeting after meeting in preparation for a long battle. It was rare he got to sleep in.
He strained his ears, searching for something, but there was nothing. Only the water. The quiet lappings that sounded so close. They were louder now, less of a gentle stream and more of a river, the water beating against small stones along the shore as it rushed past.
Link swung his legs over the side of his cot and sat up, finding his bearings. Everything was so muffled, even his thoughts. He was being suffocated in his own mind. Wanting for the sunlight and open air he stood and pushed at the flap of his tent only for it not to move.
Startled, he pushed harder, and it waved, bouncing back at him as if suspended in water. No matter how hard he pushed it didn’t change so he stepped back. He could see a shadow on the other side, standing just beyond the entrance. He tried to call out to them but no sound left his mouth. Reaching out slowly he grabbed the corner of the flap. This time it moved, water dripping from the fabric as it slowly peeled up to reveal the figure behind.
He found himself looking at his own reflection. He was wearing his typical uniform with the hero’s garb over top. But he noticed that while his arm was raised to hold the tent open, his reflection was standing stock still, arms at it’s sides. He studied it, noting the eyes slightly cast over with a faint purple sheen.
Right as he reached out towards it a pair of arms came from behind the reflection, one wrapping around it to grab at it’s face with long black nails, the other reaching towards him. He jumped backwards, as a laugh echoed around him as if he were in a room with stone walls.
He suddenly felt arms from behind and froze, now identical to his reflection. The nails gripped harder, digging into his skin as he was forcibly turned. The wet feeling of a tongue at his jaw made his breath hitch, stopping all air from reaching his lungs as it licked a stripe all the way up the side of his face.
“Link.”
It had been so long since he’d heard that voice. Since he’d met those purple and red eyes he saw in the mirror.
A hand on his shoulder jolted him awake. He shot up, breathing fast, and drenched in a cold sweat. The camp was quiet around him, but full of the snores of his fellow heroes.
“Whoa Wars, you okay?” Wind had jumped when he’d shot up, snatching his hand back as if burned.
Link, no Warriors, held a hand up as he caught his breath, trying to slow it down to a reasonable pace. Wind sat back and waited, glancing around them as he did so. Warriors was grateful not to be stared at as he tried to get back to reality. “I’m fine. Fine. Just maybe a little more stressed than I thought.”
Wind narrowed his eyes at him. “Do you want me to stay up with you for a little bit?”
“No. Go to bed. You need the rest, and I’ll be fine in a minute.” Warriors dismissed him, feigning a smile even if he knew it came off as uneasy by the unconvinced look on Wind’s face.
He was saved by the loud yawn that came from his companion. “Alright, but wake me up if you need to.” Wind pointed at him as he made his way to his own bedroll.
Warriors gave a firm nod, before turning away and pushing himself up to standing. He made a point of stretching, letting each pop from his body block out the stare he knew he was receiving.
After a few quiet minutes he heard the rustling of Wind settling himself, and relaxed, letting his eyes wander the area around them. With the battle from earlier that day, he doubted they would be disturbed by anything. It would probably be a quiet night.
He bent to grab his weapons and grimaced at the state of his clothes. He had sweat through them and they now clung to his body uncomfortably in the chill of the late night. Making a decision, he slipped on his boots and grabbed his weapons and an extra shirt and made his way to the stream right outside of camp. It would be quick and make the next few hours so much more comfortable if he at least washed his face.
The trees around camp were silent, and the only light came from the fire and the stars overhead. The occasional leaf crunched under his boots and he stopped within clear view of his sleeping companions. With one last glance around he crouched and splashed water onto himself, sighing at the blessed coolness against his clammy skin.
He leaned forward to prevent his clothes from becoming soaked and allowed the water to run from the tip of his nose back into the stream. His breath was still shaky. The feeling of hands on him still lingered. The nails digging into his flesh were still there, even as he told himself they weren’t. All he had to do was open his eyes to confirm it. His reflection was right there below him. He was alone. He knew it.
So why didn’t he believe it?
He didn’t know how long he crouched there, but his legs started to cramp. He worried about checking on the perimeter even as cold sweat started covering his face again. He probably would have sat there, eyes closed, all night if one leg hadn’t given out, forcing him to shoot out a hand to attempt to catch on the bottom of the stream. His face ended up partially in the water and he came up sputtering, wiping at his eyes before opening them and ending up nose to nose with his reflection, still half in the water.
The ripples spread out, causing everything to be distorted. He watched, anticipating even a hint of purple but none came. He was only met with his own clear blue staring back at him. His own eyes which he had gotten so many comments on, both before but especially after the war. After the rumor had gotten out that the entire thing was because of him. Because some evil sorceress with access to an army had fallen for him.
Now when he was in his own era, before this adventure, he was plagued with compliments, especially backhanded ones. Sure he was pretty, but pretty enough for people to lose their lives? Pretty enough to destroy a nation?
Suddenly his own face disgusted him. The prick of nails was still there and he needed it gone. Climbing back out of the stream, he reached behind him, fumbling for something, he wasn’t sure what. His left hand clasped around his belt, and he drew it closer, not bothering to look. He couldn’t rip his eyes away from the stream.
It was so cold tonight. Much colder than a night like this called for. A night so peaceful and quiet. Instead it was a night that made him feel numb. A night that made him unable to feel the handle he was gripping so tightly. Unable to hear anything except the water, growing louder in his ears.
“Wars?”
The voice was small, barely audible over the crackling of the fire, but it still made him feel like ice was flooding his veins. Everything flooded back all at once. He turned to meet the wide eyes of his youngest companion, his brother, who in turn followed the red flow down his face as it dripped steadily off his jaw.
Oh gods. He was still holding the knife.
“Wars?! Oh my gods!” Wind jumped up, tripping in his hurry as he made his way across camp. “What did you do?!” He slid to the ground in front of him, panicking. “We have to wake up Hyrule!”
Warriors grabbed his arm with his free hand, before he could dash back to camp again. “Don’t. Please. I don’t want him to fix it.”
He knew he sounded desperate, his voice barely a whisper. Wind stared back at him frozen, clearly trying to stay calm as his eyes filled with tears. Soon both of their faces were equally wet, but Warriors gladly let go of the other's arm when he received a shaky nod. He watched numbly as Wind rushed back towards the fire, trusting that he would listen to his words.
He couldn’t feel his face, but he didn’t want to be drawn in again by the stream so instead he just stared, not really seeing anything. He jumped at the light touch to his hand. Wind was back.
“If you don’t want me to get Hyrule then you’re going to have to cooperate.” His voice shook, but his hands were steady as he slowly pried Warrior’s fingers apart. Warriors glanced down, surprised that he still had a tight grip on the knife’s handle. He attempted to let go, listening as Wind let out a heavy breath as he did.
He was starting to get some feeling back, the growing burn in his face causing him to flinch as Wind tried to inspect it. “Stay still.”
They were mostly silent as Wind attempted to take care of him. Warriors ignored whatever feeling he could, forcing himself still. Now that he was able to think again, his only thought was horror at himself. Not so much for what he had done, but for involving Wind in his downward spiral.
“Are you sure we can’t wake someone up? I’ve taken care of wounds before but you might need stitches.”
“I don’t want Hyrule to use his magic.”
Wind paused. “Wild can do stitches too. Can I wake him up? He can replenish our potions. You should probably have one.” Warriors looked up, meeting Wind’s eyes for the first time since he’d been found. The sailor still had tears running down his face. “Please, Wars? I-I don’t know how to help you by myself.” His bottom lip started to tremble, and Warriors noticed his knuckles turning white.
“Yeah.” Warriors gave in, feeling tears in his eyes for the first time tonight. “Go wake up Wild.”