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Legend has always had a complicated relationship with sleep.
Ever since he was a kid, insomnia has kept him up into the late hours of the night. Brought on by a fear of the dark or an unhealthy attachment to his Uncle, it didn’t matter―he never slept well, and always wound up exhausted during the day. He and his Uncle had learned how to manage it: tea tended to knock him out quickly, touching someone helped, and just being patient for sleep to come was almost always a tried and true way to get Legend to sleep. For a while, that was that.
And then the adventures started, and the nightmares followed. Dreams about Ganon rising again, evil wizards, dark worlds, dead uncles, dead ancestors, and evil Zora plagued his dreams, only growing in severity with every passing journey.
Being afraid of sleep came after Koholint.
Legend can’t quite describe it, the way his body instantly rejects all thoughts of sleep. He knows, logically, that he needs it. But the moment he lays his head down to rest, his heart starts racing and his hands start getting clammy and it starts getting hard to breathe. The thought of slipping into another Dream again is too horrible to even imagine. The thought of waking up from one is even worse.
So he handles it. If handling it means that he just doesn’t sleep until he passes out.
At first, the others don’t notice it. They don’t realize that Legend’s lying down is different from his sleeping , and he thanks Din, Farore, and Nayru for having far too much experience hiding his sleep issues from Ravio and Uncle. He’s damn good at pretending to be asleep, and maybe he shouldn’t be as proud of that as he is.
But when an ambush happens in the middle of the night, Legend is the first on his feet and already barking out orders even before half the Chain realizes what’s going on. Within minutes, they’re all up and fighting, some more awake than others. Within twenty minutes, the horde of Bokoblins, Moblins, Lizalfos, and Keese are reduced to scattered guts across their otherwise cozy campsite.
“We should move somewhere else,” Warriors remarks. “Don’t want them coming back.”
Even when they move a few meters away, adrenaline keeps them up for the rest of the night. Still, they get moving in the morning anyways, but it’s to no one’s surprise that Time stops them sometime around midmorning, even the Old Man struggling to keep his eyes open.
“Let’s get some rest,” Time decides. “It won’t be any good if we run into monsters like this.”
This, of course, spurs on an argument about who would take watch now . Legend’s about to open his mouth to offer―not like he’ll get any sleep now, or tonight. Might as well not have to fake it if he doesn’t have to―but Wild beats him to the punch.
“I don’t nap easy anyways,” Wild says when the others ask if he’s sure, and like that, the matter is settled, and the others all happily fall into their bedrolls. Legend curls up in his own, eyes closed and listening to his brothers snore peacefully around him. He’s not even tired , despite not sleeping the night before, but he knows this sleepless bliss won’t last long. As practiced as he is at staying up for days on end, eventually his body will give out.
He dreads the moment that it does.
He lays awake the whole nap, eyes closed and body limp, and it lasts much longer than Time anticipated. Still, the rest of the Chain is rested and refreshed, and none of them even bat an eye at Legend offering to take watch first thing that night. Wild had originally been on first watch, but since he didn’t get a nap, he’s more than willing to let Legend take the responsibility.
And Legend is more than happy to accept an excuse not to sleep.
And it’s bliss! Legend doesn’t even have to think about sleeping or worry if any of the others have noticed he’s awake. And if the hours drag on way past when he was supposed to wake up Warriors for the second shift, well, he can just say got a nap earlier and he’s fine.
Time, who had taken third shift, of course wakes up right on time for the shift change. He stares down at Legend, with only a small hint of confusion written in one eye. “I thought Warriors was on second shift.”
Legend shrugs. “It wasn’t a big deal. You all needed the sleep.”
Time settles down beside him, patting Legend’s shoulder in that fatherly way of his. Or maybe it’s just fatherly because Uncle does the exact same thing to Legend whenever he gets a chance. “So do you,” Time says. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t nap earlier.”
Legend grimaces. “I… don’t nap easily either,” he says, which is true on technicality.
Time sighs heavily, and nods toward Legend’s bedroll. “Well, get some rest now. You have a few hours yet.”
Legend wants to argue, wants to tell Time that he can’t, but he bites his tongue and saunters over to his bedroll, curling up with his back to Time. All around him, the camp is asleep, still, and the early morning silence is broken only by the soft snoring of his brothers. Legend closes his eyes and sighs, well aware of the sun slowly rising into the morning. He’s well aware of Time letting the rest of them sleep just a little longer than normal.
Legend is still one of the first ones up nonetheless, and Time gives him a look but otherwise doesn’t say anything.
Which is fortunate, because Warriors, it seems, has enough to say for the Old Man and himself. “You never woke me up for my shift.”
Legend waves him off. “You needed the sleep.”
“So did you,” Warriors counters. “If you start lagging―”
“Which I won’t,” Legend adds pointedly. “Look, I’m used to not getting a ton of sleep. Soldiers hunting me down day and night, and all. I’m fine.”
Which is, decidedly, the exact wrong thing to say because Warriors’ eyes narrow. “I don’t care what you did on your last six adventures. I don’t care if you didn’t sleep a wink during them. You’re sleeping on this one, and that’s final.”
Legend’s rabbit instincts want to make him flinch, but he just sets his jaw and plants his feet. “I’m not one of your soldiers to order around, Captain ,” he huffs. “I’m perfectly fine. I slept a little.”
“ A little isn’t enough,” Warriors insists. “It’s not healthy for you not to sleep.”
“And I said before―I’m fine. I’ve been doing this for years,” Legend answers.
Warriors lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine! But if a monster ambushes you, you won’t see me helping you.”
“I wouldn’t want your help anyway,” Legend goads.
“Good, because I don’t plan on helping you,” Warriors retorts.
“Fine,” Legend snaps.
“Fine,” Warriors snaps back.
Legend whirls around and keeps working through packing up his bags, throat tight. It’s not like he likes fighting his brothers, not even Warriors. The knight is… respectable at least. But it’s easier to just bite when they get too close.
What’s not easier is the cold shoulder Legend gets all day. Warriors stays true to his word. In no battle or tussle or uneven terrain does he help Legend. In fact, Legend gets the distinct feeling that Warriors is ignoring him, all the way to the point that Warriors isn’t even looking at him when talking to the entire group. Legend rolls his eyes and resigns himself to it. Though it does sting a little when Warriors refuses to sit beside Legend that night when they gather around the fire.
Twilight ends up in Warriors’ spot instead. “What’d the two of you fight about now?” the rancher asks tiredly.
Legend huffs. “I took his shift last night and he’s being a complete ass about it.”
Twilight’s eyes flicker between Wars and Legend. “Ya know he’s just worried about you.”
“It’s fine,” Legend groans. “I’m used to it.”
“Well now I’m worried about you,” Twilight remarks. “You know not sleeping ain’t healthy, right?”
Legend doesn’t answer. It’s not like Ravio and Uncle don’t say the exact same things to him whenever they find out he hasn’t been sleeping. Besides, he is used to it. He’s gone three, almost four days without sleep before, once. Even if the last day had been horrible, he’d managed. And if he keeps going long enough, he’ll manage to make it past four days, surely. If Uncle and Ravio don’t notice and shove sleeping tonic down his throat first.
Legend suddenly remembers that he probably ought to hide that tonic the next time they’re in his world. No need for the Chain to get their hands on it too and, Hylia forbid, butt their heads into his problems more than they already have.
Twilight, luckily, doesn’t push the sleep issue further, and Warriors takes the shift Legend should have tonight, which means Legend should be taking Warriors’ shift tomorrow night. Which is great! Another night he doesn’t need to worry about actually sleeping!
Until tomorrow comes and Legend suddenly learns he’s been removed from watch for the next week .
“But―” Legend begins arguing when Warriors announces that Wild will be taking over his shift instead.
“Absolutely not,” Warriors snaps. “You barely slept two nights ago, and you can’t keep taking shifts from people.”
Legend does wince at that. People had been noticing? And he’d only really been taking them from Wind and Hyrule. Tattlers, the both of them! “But I slept last night!”
He didn’t. He hasn’t slept for three nights now. And he hates to admit it, but he is feeling it. His eyes burn. His brain is tired and thoughts filter through it like they’re swimming through molasses. He can tell he’s exhausted from the tears that prick the edges of his vision as Warriors shuts down Legend’s hopes and dreams of escaping sleep for a fourth night.
“I’d be sleeping after my shift,” Legend insists. “I’ll be fine.”
“Well, maybe, I don’t need a sleep-deprived kid to keep me safe,” Warriors hisses and it stings .
Only Warriors knows Legend’s real age. It's not that Legend is that young, but the way the Chain looks at a nineteen year old is way different than how they look at a just-turned-sixteen-year old.
What stings most is that Warriors is right. Fighting over this―crying over this―is very much what a kid would do and Legend hates it.
He hates this. He hates having to sleep. He hates Warriors’ insistence on him sleeping. He hates his body for this one basic necessity that’s always made his life a living hell.
“By that logic,” Legend says, trying to keep his voice steady. “I shouldn’t trust Four or Wind or even Wild either.” Because they’re all teens―or barely that, in Wind’s case―and they’re perfectly allowed to have watch. “―when they take watch either.”
“They haven’t been stealing other peoples’ watches,” Warriors insists. “And they nap when we have ambushes.”
“Wild didn’t nap.”
“Wild slept the last two nights!” Warriors hisses back, voice rising in volume, dangerously close to getting to the point where he’ll begin shutting down Legend instead of communicating.
Time rescues Legend from Warriors’ explosive shut down with a stern one of his own: “Legend, Warriors, that’s enough. Wild is taking Warriors’ shift tonight. We’ll discuss Legend’s stealing shifts later when we’re all more well-rested. For now, to bed. With all of you.”
Legend grinds his teeth together, because if he doesn’t he thinks those treacherous tears might just spill out of his eyes. Which is stupid because he can just pretend to sleep. He can just pretend to get some rest. He can just pretend to be okay with getting close―so, so dangerously close, now that he hasn’t slept for three nights―to sleep. He’s crashing. He can feel himself crashing. And he knows it’s making him whiny and melodramatic and stupid but he just can’t sleep. He can’t do it. He can’t wake up from this wonderful dream. He can’t be dropped into another one. He just can’t do it.
“I’m not a kid,” Legend insists, voice small as a child’s.
“Well, you sure sound like one,” Warriors grumbles, and turns his back on Legend.
Legend opens his mouth to snap back at Warriors when Time’s hand lands on his shoulder. “ Enough.”
Legend snaps something. He doesn’t even know or care what it is, but it makes Time let him go and makes Warriors glare at him and the others stare with wide eyes but Legend doesn’t care because he can not, will not be made to sleep tonight. He just won’t do it. He can’t.
Legend stomps over to the edge of camp, plants himself against a tree just out of view of camp, and glowers at the ground. He can hear the others slowly beginning to fall asleep in the clearing behind him. All except for Time, who settles down for first watch with a heavy sigh.
Legend huffs an angry breath out his nose, and sits with his knees bundled against his chest. And he is going to sit here. All night. To prove a point.
But it’s hard to keep grudges against his brothers. He likes them, he really does, and as the night drags onwards, that stupid tight feeling rises in his throat. He’d fucked up, and he was going to have to apologize to Warriors. Hell, he’s probably going to have to tell Wars he was right―Legend is tired. He does need to sleep. He wouldn’t have been able to hold watch, not with the way Legend’s eyes are burning and threatening to close, to finally earn some sweet reprieve from three nights without sleep.
At the same time, admitting Wars was right is admitting there’s a problem.
And Legend doesn’t have a problem. He’s circumvented his fear of sleep. He has. Even if, as he sits here, his hands are going clammy against his knees and his chest is going tight because he knows if he sits here staring at the ground for any longer, he is going to fall asleep and that can’t happen. It just can’t .
He feels but doesn’t quite register his fingernails beginning to tear into the crooks of his elbows as his chest gets even tighter. He just needs to stay awake. Everything is going to be fine. Just stay awake.
“Legend?” Time’s voice cuts through the dark, still by the fire. Legend dares to glance over his shoulder at the old man. His back is to Legend, and he’s just… sitting. “Do you want to join me?”
Automatically, Legend huffs, “ No.”
That weird tightness in his throat is back. He’s not even mad at Time. It’s Warriors he had the fight with, and he can’t even say he’s that mad at Warriors either.
Time’s quiet for a few moments before adding, gently, “You don’t have to sleep. It’s just hard to see you from over there.”
Which, the old man probably has a point. Legend did choose this spot just to make it hard for anyone to see him, and being half-blind probably isn’t helping Time out at all. Besides, if Legend sits here longer, he is going to fall asleep. Might as well stay up and do something, at least.
So Legend sighs and walks over to his bag, pulling out his paintbox from his bag and his leather sketchbook. He flops down beside Time, and the only acknowledgement the old man gives him a mildly interested gaze down at the sketchbook, which is already overflowing with sketches and paintings of all kinds. Depictions of places he’s been, people he’s met. Hell, there’s even a watercolor of a cup of Uncle’s cider.
Legend flips to a blank page and begins sketching the fire, and Time goes back to keeping watch quietly. It’s… not horrible. Nice, even. Better, since Time isn’t forcing Legend to speak or really do anything at all. At this point, Legend would have expected a lecture to begin but, no. Just silence. Silence that Legend uses to focus on the fire in front of him, drawing out its shape on the paper in front of him before he begins with the watercolors, blending paint across the page until a splatter of orange is in the center of it. It’s easy for thoughts of sleep to slip away as his paintbrush dances across the page. It’s easy to forget why he was so upset in the first place. It’s easy for Legend’s eyes to begin slipping closed as he works, and his head to begin bobbing down from where he has his chin resting in his right hand, his left painting, though his brushstrokes keep getting sloppier, harder, and looser.
Eventually, Time urges Legend to lean against his shoulder and Legend does without complaint, setting his paints and sketchbook aside as he settles against Time’s shoulder.
He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, but when his eyes open again, they’re heavy and blurry and distinctly not burning with exhaustion. Legend blinks awake slowly, nestled deep in the sweet warmth of his bedroll. He almost doesn’t want to move at all.
That is, until his vision focuses on the fire across the camp and Legend’s heart skips a beat.
The fire is far away. There’s grass underneath him. There wasn’t grass underneath him when he fell asleep. He was right by the fire. And where is Time ? Why is it so bright ? Just why is everything coming back so slowly? Dear Hylia, is he in a dream? It has to be. It’s too bright. It’s too perfect―
Eyes are on him, and Legend does what a rabbit does best. He flees.
He doesn’t get far, his heart thudding too hard already and his chest constricted tight like a snake has wrapped him up in its coils, ready to consume him. He feels positively ill , and fumbles to his knees before he gets sick all over himself. He begins rubbing his arms, rubbing so hard that the crooks of his elbows are burning.
This isn’t real. This can’t be real. And it doesn’t matter that he’s panicking, he’d panicked on Koholint. And it doesn’t matter that he’s scratching himself hard enough to draw blood, he got hurt on Koholint.
He’s only distantly aware of footsteps approaching before Twilight suddenly settles in the center of his vision, hands on his shoulders. Legend looks away, breathing still coming in heaves, throat still tight with that awful nauseous feeling that comes from these episodes. Hands wrestle him onto the ground, onto a lap, and suddenly―very suddenly―he smells wet dog and then―
Weight. Heavy and right on top of him, pressing him against the dirt, against the realness of the world. Legend grabs onto Wolfie’s fur with an iron-clad grasp, breaths still shaking a little. Wolfie is breathing slowly, rhythmically, and Legend slowly begins following it, the snake uncoiling from around his chest and releasing him. It’s stupid, but Wolfie’s horrible wet dog smell helps. Everything always smelled good in Koholint. Bad smells didn’t exist there, which means this has to be real, right?
Legend buries his face into Wolfie’s fur. “Please don’t move me in my sleep again,” is all he says, and Wolfie licks Legend’s cheek, as if promising to let Time know later.
Everyone is looking at Legend worriedly―and simultaneously trying not to look too worried―when he comes back, a very satisfied Wolfie in tow. Wolfie immediately heads over to where Wild has begun reheating breakfast, already begging for a pre-breakfast snack.
Legend would roll his eyes if he were feeling better. As it is, all he can manage to do is settle between Hyrule and Sky, and quietly take the food that’s offered to him when it’s ready. His hands are still shaking. His throat still has that nauseous feeling, and it’s hard to shove the food down his throat when it doesn’t want to go. He can barely manage a bite, and offers Wild a sorry look when he hands back the barely-touched bowl.
The rest of the day, Legend scours the world for signs that it’s real. A dying plant, a cloud in the sky, a foul smell. By the time they settle for camp that night, Legend has decided that it’s of the utmost importance to not sleep tonight. Just to make sure.
And thus restarts the cycle of pretending to sleep.
Which, really, Legend is fine with. It works. It might not be healthy, but it works . It keeps the worry at bay and besides, it’s useful in ambushes. And he’s used to it. He’s used to going two or three days without sleep. He’s gotten used to his fucked up relationship with sleep, and he likes it , thank you very much.
He likes that he's able to know he’s not dreaming, because if he doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t dream, and if he doesn’t dream, then he knows everything is real. He likes that he’s able to be the first to respond in an ambush. He likes that he can know what happens when he’s supposed to be asleep. He likes it.
Until it turns it’s back on him.
Like now.
A worried hand cards through his hair, and Legend dazedly follows the hand up to its adjoining arm, to its neighboring shoulder and then finally, to the face that owns it. Time is sitting there, Legend’s head cushioned on his lap, and the old man’s eye is looking worriedly down at Legend. It’s dark all around, the sky a pitch black overhead, but the fire is crackling too-loudly nearby and the red of the fire is burning despite Legend being so cold.
And he’s tired. And achy. And his nose is clogged and his head is so fuzzy, pounding with every crackle of the fire. He swallows, his too-dry throat aching as he does so.
He groans, rolling onto his side and pressing his face into the pillow Time has settled on his lap. Legend sucks in a deep breath through his runny nose, which only amplifies his headache in the worst ways, and Legend moans again.
It’s his third night being unable to sleep. The best he’s managed is one or two-hour naps spaced so far apart they barely even matter. And this has been going on for three days now.
Time continues threading his fingers through Legend’s hair. “Are you sure there’s nothing else we can try?”
Legend shakes his head. He’s given them all the sleep ammunition he can think of. Tea, touch, stories, lullabies, Wolfie, sleep masks, cold compresses, earplugs, honey―they’ve tried it all and more. Part of Legend knows they’ll try them again when they finally realize Legend’s sleep schedule is dogshit, but that’s not now so Legend doesn’t care.
Legend very rarely wants to sleep but he wants to sleep.
Time lets out a troubled sigh. It’s the kind Uncle makes when he and Ravio can’t get Legend to sleep naturally. It’s the I can’t bear to see my son suffer anymore sigh, and Legend hates that he can recognize it in Time of all people.
Legend coughs, rough and hard, and his entire body trembles with the effort. Somehow, the fit leaves him feeling even more tired, and Legend curls up tighter, into a miserable ball of suffering halfway on Time’s lap. Even still, Time runs his hand through Legend’s hair, hand slowly wandering down to rub Legend’s back as the cough subsides.
Time’s hand keeps wandering, down Legend’s shoulder and to his hand, where it begins making circles on the back of it, massaging the Triforce mark on the back of Legend’s hand.
Legend half-remembers Uncle doing something similar, when Legend was still small and his adventures were far away. Legend was always sick as a kid, and he had a hard time sleeping even then, and it worried Uncle to no end. Even still, Uncle would sit up with him and rub circles into his hand until he drifted off.
Legend’s not sure why the memory comes back to him now, but it relaxes Legend enough to ease his eyes shut and gently lower him into the sweet blackness of sleep.
It’s much too soon when there’s pressure in his ears and someone shaking his shoulder, forcing Legend back into the horrible world that is the world of the waking. He blinks tiredly up at whoever woke him, but for the life of him can’t figure out how Twilight replaced Time.
“Hey Ledge,” Twilight says once he’s assured Legend is awake enough to understand. “A portal’s opened up, so we’re going to have ta go through it, okay?”
Legend groans, burying his face into his pillow. It’s not nearly as fluffy without Time, which serves to only aggravate Legend further.
Twilight keeps shaking Legend’s shoulder. “I’ll carry ya, if ya want. I just wanted ta let ya know since ya don’t kike bein’ moved in yer sleep.”
Which, Twi is right . Even with Legend’s brain being melted to mush right now, he can’t say that he wouldn’t panic if he woke up in an unfamiliar place. Especially if they switched worlds.
So Legend heaves a sigh and forces himself to sit up. Twi gets him sitting by the last remains of the fire, and Wild attempts to offer some food, but Legend is too tired to even think of eating. Otherwise, no one bothers Legend, all the rest of them hurrying to pack up camp before the portal gets too mad at them.
When they’re done, Twilight bends down in front of Legend and Legend latches on, too sick and tired to care much for his reputation, and they head through the portal.
Legend could laugh when they reach the other side. Seems Dink doesn’t even want to deal with germs, because he’s sent them to a field only an hour away from Legend’s house.
“My house isn’t far,” Legend rasps. He points vaguely in the direction of home. “That way.”
He buries his face in Twilight’s wolf pelt, yet sleep eludes him still. At least, he’s pretty sure it does. He can’t tell. One moment he’s drifting, the next he’s on Twi’s back, the next he catches a glance of one of the tacky signs that Ravio has strung across Hyrule. It all blurs together in-between blinks, and very soon, Legend blinks and suddenly he’s on his cough, tucked underneath a few blankets, and there’s a chaos of movement all around him as eight other heroes make home in his living room.
Ravio is sitting next to Legend’s head. Legend hears things clattering in the kitchen and figures Uncle is making tea. Ravio keeps fixing Legend’s hair, feeling his head, fiddling with Legend’s blankets, tugging at his own sleeves when there isn’t anything else to fuss with.
“Gon’ worry yourself to death,” Legend moans, and Ravio just about leaps out of his skin.
All around, eight Links groan as they realize Legend isn’t as asleep as they thought he was.
“Mr. Hero!” Ravio gasps, his shrill voice only serving to worsen Legend’s already-pounding headache. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” Legend groans, rubbing his face. “When’d we get home?”
“Not that long ago,” Sky answers. “You fell asleep maybe twenty minutes ago?”
“It’s a new record,” Wind jests.
“Hey, now that’s not fair,” Warriors teases. “He slept three hours last night.”
And then there are Uncle’s heavy footsteps hurrying across the house. Legend could melt into the man’s touch when he settles a hand on Legend’s forehead, thick eyebrows creased in worry.
“When was the last time you slept, son?” Uncle asks Legend.
Legend thinks hard. Harder than he thinks he ever thought in his life. The days all bleed together now, an ugly watercolor of moments he barely remembers right now. “F’r how long?”
“More than three hours.”
Legend thinks even harder. The days before his illness are obscured by a fresh summer haze. “Four days?”
He knows he didn’t sleep the day before he got sick. He knows because he spent the night tossing and turning and trying desperately to not let Time know he was awake. He might’ve slept during third shift, but he can’t tell apart what happened yesterday and what happened today, let alone any time before that.
“I think,” he tacks on at the end because he honestly doesn’t know.
“Four nights?” Warriors asks, voice shrill in a haunted whisper.
Fuck. Legend forgot they were there. Stupid Uncle’s stupid warmth and calloused hands and gentle eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck .
“But I thought…” Wild trails off. “He seemed asleep whenever I was on watch.”
Wind shifts uncomfortably. “But he was taking my watches.”
“Mine too,” Hyrule adds dejectedly.
Time hums, though he doesn’t look as surprised as the others. Worried, for sure, but Legend’s not surprised Time might have had his suspicions about Legend’s less-than-stellar sleep schedule. Time always somehow knows these things.
“Link’s slippery about these things,” Uncle assures, which Legend knows has the exact opposite effect than Uncle intends. “When was the last time Link slept?”
“The three hours we mentioned earlier, sir,” Warriors answers. “That was this morning. Before that, it was yesterday afternoon for about an hour.”
Uncle hums, face creased with worry. Then he smiles gently at the eight worried Links staring at him. “We have something that can help.”
Legend’s heart nearly stops. “ Uncle!”
Honestly, fuck Dink for sending them here the one time Legend can’t hide that stupid tonic.
Uncle gives Legend a stern look. “You need sleep, Link. Real sleep.”
Legend glares. Ineffectively, because he knows his nose and cheeks are beat red.
“I’ll put honey in it,” Uncle offers.
“Bribes,” Legend grumbles, and rolls over with a pout.
Uncle sighs, and pats his shoulder. “If you manage to fall asleep before it’s done, you won’t have to take it.”
Which is useless anyways, because now that Legend knows Uncle is making that tonic, his chest has gone tight and his hands have gone clammy. Legend’s fingers are digging into the skin of his arms as he listens to the clatter in the kitchen. Fuck, Uncle has already started the tea. That’s even less time to try to sleep, though Legend knows sleep is impossible now.
He hadn’t wanted the others to know about this tonic. He hadn’t wanted the others to know about his sleep issues. He hadn’t wanted them to know, because now they want to fix it. And Legend can’t do that. He can’t sleep. He can’t take that tonic.
But now Time is asking Uncle about this “cure” for Legend’s insomnia and Uncle is telling him about the tonic and it’s all over.
Ravio runs a hand through Legend’s hair, twirling a strand of it around his fingers. “You’re scratching.”
“Shuddup,” Legend huffs, no real bite in his words.
He curls up tighter. He doesn’t want to sleep. He can’t sleep. He just can’t.
Ravio keeps running his hands though Legend’s hair, and any other time Legend would appreciate nimble fingers carding through blonde locks, but not today. Not when Uncle is brewing his bribery of honey tea. Not when the Links know about Legend’s issues. Not when they’re going to have to talk about it and fix it when Legend wakes up.
“Is he okay?” Hyrule asks Ravio gently.
“Mr. Hero will be alright,” Ravio assures. “He just has a… difficult time sleeping sometimes.”
Hyrule hums, and goes quiet.
Sooner than Legend would ever like, Uncle comes over with the tea, Time hot on his heels. Legend screws his eyes shut, but Uncle touches his shoulder and is talking gently and he has some amazing honey tea and―
Legend sighs heavily as he sits up, taking the mug. “This is a bribe,” he grumbles, but sips at it anyway, if only to appease Uncle’s worried face.
“I know, but you’ll feel better when you wake up,” Uncle tells him.
Legend gives him a look, but keeps drinking his tea. The tea is amazing. Heavenly, honey-flavored and just sticky enough to soothe Legend’s throat but not coat his mouth in a horrible sticky texture that won’t go away. It’s a shame that the mug begins slipping before Legend is even halfway done with it―such a waste of heavenly honey tea―and Uncle has to set it aside as sleep rapidly begins taking over. Legend leans against Uncle, his mind fuzzy and thoughts slowly growing more and more distant as the tonic takes its hold.
Legend whines, pressing his face into Uncle’s side. “Don’ wanna dream.”
Uncle runs a hand through his hair, and rubs his hand. “I know, son,” he says warmly. “But we’ll all be here when you wake up.”
“Promise?” Legend asks.
“I promise,” Uncle assures.
And finally, at long last, Legend’s eyes slide closed.
Time is both shocked and impressed by how quickly the sleeping tonic works. In just moments, Legend is asleep against his Uncle, looking younger than Time’s ever seen him before. And Legend wasn’t even given a full dose!
Alfon waits a few more minutes before he carefully rises to his feet, lying the prone veteran down across the couch and tucking him underneath the blankets once more. Ravio is quick to scurry off and get a pillow for the vet, and it seems that the vet won’t be moving for a good few hours at least.
It’s not surprising that Legend’s uncle and boyfriend already know about Legend’s issues with being moved in his sleep. They, like most of the other Links’ relatives, know their Link the best, after all.
Still, it’s mind-boggling to Time how the Chain could miss the fact that Legend simply doesn’t sleep at all.
Four days, Time wonders. How could they not notice that Legend hadn’t slept for four days?
Well, at least he’s sleeping now. And they will be having a discussion about it when Legend’s feeling better. But for now, they leave the veteran be on the couch. Even through the clamor that is dinner, with Wild insisting on cooking and Alfon insisting that he shouldn’t because they’re guests―and ending in a reluctant compromise that is Wild getting to cook breakfast if he lets himself be served tonight. Even through this clamor, the vet sleeps on, unmoving except for regular twitches of his nose and ears that distinctly remind Time of the rabbits that burrow back on the ranch.
Legend doesn’t move as they all wind down for bed, and he still doesn’t move for breakfast in the morning―which is a wonderful array of omelets that Time is pretty sure is Wild showing off, and Time feels bad for Legend for missing it. Still, they all agree the vet could always do with more sleep, so no one moves him and the vet doesn’t move. He doesn’t move the entire morning, and neither does he move for the much calmer and relaxed lunch that Alfon serves up.
In fact, the vet doesn’t move until evening. By the time Time gets back from running errands for their hosts, Legend is sitting on the couch, slowly gnawing on some toast, still looking drowsy from his incredibly long nap. He most certainly needed the sleep, it seems. Might still need more.
“How are you feeling?” Time asks once Legend’s eyes have regained some focus, instead of staring listlessly at the wall as he ate.
Legend blinks, and Time can almost see the furnaces burning in his brain trying to conjure a thought. “Fine?”
Time knows Alfon probably has already checked, but he checks Legend’s fever nonetheless, and is pleased to find it much lower than it had been the last few days. At least one thing is on the mend.
The sleep issues, however, will take longer. And aren’t a conversation for when Legend is still very clearly struggling to wake up. The vet’s focus breaks off, though the more he eats, the more his eyes flutter, as if looking for something or maybe ensuring something isn’t there. It reminds Time a little too much of the day Legend had run off, only to return with Wolfie and wary eyes a little while later. Time half wants to ask Twilight to do what he’d done to calm Legend down then.
Time ends up not getting the chance to, as Legend is given a more substantial meal―a rich chicken noodle soup, some juice, and more toast―now that he’s woken up a bit. Slowly, the vet wakes up even more, and by the time the others are getting back in from their various self-appointed tasks―visiting Fable, checking for monsters, helping out on the orchard―Legend is fully awake, and Ravio is lounged against him, nicking some toast from the veteran’s plate. Legend grumbles and groans like he always does, and Ravio plays with Legend’s hair, and the younger boys tease the two of them relentlessly about it. It’s so normal that Time very nearly forgets about the glassy-eyed look Legend had worn when he was first waking up.
Almost. Legend is still a little jumpy, and his gaze lingers just a little too long to not be still looking for something.
“Well, look who’s up,” Warriors teases as he comes in, immediately going to ruffle the vet’s hair. “Our very own sleeping beauty.”
Legend swats Warriors’ hand away. “Oh, shut up,” he grumbles and yup, that’s the veteran they know and love. “If anyone’s a beauty around here, it has to be you. Have you seen the way you fuss with your hair?”
Warriors lifts his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not the one who slept for a day.”
It’s as if Legend’s brain halts like a startled horse in a thunderstorm. “I slept for a whole day?”
The question would sound innocent enough, if it wasn’t for Legend’s wide-eyed stare or the way his face has lost a bit of color. Ravio reaches for Legend’s hand, squeezing it, while Legend’s other hand begins picking at the veteran’s knee. There’s a new scab there that Time doesn’t remember being there before.
“You’re sick and didn’t sleep for days,” Time assures him. “You needed it.”
“Oh,” Legend says, but his voice wobbles a bit. “Yeah. Of course.”
Ravio’s hand tightens around Legend’s. “Are you okay?”
Legend swallows. He’s still picking at that scab, drawing blood now. He wipes it away on the edge of his skirt, and goes right back to picking. “I’m just… tired. Still tired.”
“Do you want to go to bed?” Ravio asks.
Legend makes a face.
Ravio reaches for his forehead, frowning. “You still have a fever. You should get some more sleep.”
Legend hums noncommittally, and for a moment Time worries he’s going to refuse to sleep like he’d done that one night a month or so ago. But Legend does at least agree to settle in his bedroom instead, now that he’s awake. If he’s not going to sleep, at least Time can rest assured that Legend will be taking it easy for the next few days.
And the vet does. They rarely see or hear from him for the next few days. Time thinks he can smell some of Legend’s tonic brewing one night, but Time is losing horribly against Warriors and Wind at a card game Wars taught them during the war, so Time doesn’t check in. He’s not worried―Legend’s Uncle and Ravio can handle the vet just fine―so he opts not to worry.
By the next week, Legend is back on his feet and looking better than ever. His ever-present eye bags have mostly cleared up, and his head is held higher and, dare Time say it, he seems to be in a good mood when they set off after the black-blooded monsters again. It’d be a victory, if not for the worry nagging at Time’s heart. Just how little does Legend usually sleep?
But they set off nonetheless, a small vial of Legend’s sleeping tonic tucked away in Time’s bag just in case.
The first day back on the road sees them encountering a world switch, and then trudging on after Dink and his monsters in an unclaimed Hyrule. The morning is full of battles, but after lunch it’s a whole lot of boring, endless walking.
Legend knows he ought to appreciate the break, especially after boeing so thoroughly ill last week that Uncle had to coerce him into taking sleeping tonic twice, but the lack of action only means that his mind gets to wander more than usual. And it wanders. It wanders to the morning, to when Uncle gave Time a vial of sleeping tonic. It wanders toward tonight, when Time will use that tonic against him to make him sleep.
The thought makes Legend ill. He can’t sleep. He just can’t do it. He can’t keep waking up to not know whether this is real or not. He can’t have another dream like Koholint again. He just can’t .
The rest of the walk is spent with his thoughts spiraling about his head. Part of him wishes one of the others would just talk to banish the silence that’s letting this awful, hungry snake twist around Legend’s chest, but Legend thinks if one of the others asked him to speak, he might just cry instead.
The others stop trying to speak anyways when they notice that Legend isn’t responding. Legend can hear them chalking it up to him still being under the weather, and he knows they stop sooner than usual because of it. Wild starts on some fancy meal―fancier than usual―and the rest of them are left to their own devices.
The next few hours are unbearable. Because at least when they were walking, Legend could sort of distract himself with how thoroughly bored he was. But now, sitting on the ground with the sun looming ever-closer to the horizon, all Legend can think of is the inevitability of sleep.
Legend doesn’t want to sleep.
He tries to focus on organizing his items, but his hands are starting to go clammy and shake, making it even more difficult to pick through rings and other jewelry. Each new extended shadow is a reminder, a countdown of the seconds until sunset, until sleep.
Feet settle just within Legend’s field of vision, and when Legend lifts his eyes up, Sky is standing there, a gentle smile on his face.
“Do you want to spar?” Sky asks, in that tone that says I know something is wrong but I don’t know how to ask.
Legend’s eyes slide toward where the others are all congregated. Twilight is kicking Warriors’ ass in a one-on-one spar, and Wind and Four are exchanging bet money off to the side. It’d be nice to join, if his hands weren’t shaking too much to hold a sword.
Legend looks back down at his items, which remain woefully unorganized. “Not really.”
Sky’s brows knit together worriedly. “You sure? You’re usually up for sparring.”
“‘M just tired,” Legend answers half-heartedly. He’s not. He’s really not. He’s the very opposite of it, his entire body jolted alive as anxiety courses through it in waves. But he can’t think of any other excuse, and just telling Sky that Legend― the veteran hero ―is afraid of sleep is just ridiculous.
“Oh.” Sky’s ears lower, but he smiles anyways. “Okay. If anything’s wrong, though, you can tell me.”
Legend’s hands tighten around his ring box. “I’m fine . Can you just leave me alone?”
It comes out harsher than he intends. Sky’s ears droop a little further, but he forces a smile and does as he’s told. Legend’s throat tightens guiltily, but it’s too late to fix it, so he stays curled against the tree, picking through items and watching the sun set.
The closer they get to sundown, the closer Legend gets to having to sleep. And Legend can’t sleep.
But they know now. And they’re going to try to fix it. And they’re going to try to give him that tonic and knock him out all night and he’s going to dream or get stuck in a dream or―
Wild begins spooning dinner into bowls. Legend robotically goes to claim one alongside the others, and settles himself on the end of a log next to Wind. Not even the sound of chatter is helping a little, even if Wind is telling his favorite story for the umpteenth time, making it all too easy to drown the conversation out. Making it all too easy to slip into his own thoughts instead.
The snake is tightening around Legend’s chest. The sun is low―dangerously low―and once they finish eating, they’ll be getting ready for bed. Legend actually feels sick now, and sets aside his bowl, clutching his arms tightly, like curling up will somehow keep the worry from boiling over. He can’t breathe anymore. His chest is tight, his heart is racing, his body is stiff from the effort of trying not to shake.
It’s getting darker still. Every bite everyone else takes is one bite closer to bedtime.
Legend doesn’t want to dream. He doesn’t want to wake up. He doesn’t want to sleep.
His fingers begin digging into his arms. His breathing is coming in agonizing spurts, just barely allowing any air in at all.
He just―he can’t do it. He can’t dream. He can’t take that tonic. He can’t―
Whatever control Legend has is bitten away by the snake coiled around him, and Legend begins hyperventilating.
The Chain goes quiet.
Suddenly, there are hands on Legend’s own, tugging them away from the crooks of his elbows, forcing him to stop scratching. Legend can’t tell when he began clawing at his arms, or when he stopped being able to breathe at all.
“Legend, I need you to breathe with me,” Time’s voice tries to instruct, all even like he’s done this hundreds of times before.
Legend shakes his head. He can’t.
“Legend―” Time begins and Legend shakes his head violently. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. A pathetic-sounding whine escapes his throat as he tries in vain to flinch away from time.
He can’t sleep. He can’t dream. He can’t take that tonic. He can’t breathe. He can’t.
“―it’s okay―” Time is saying, and Legend frantically shakes his head.
It’s not. He’s going to have to sleep. They’re going to make him sleep . And he can’t. He can’t dream again. He can’t wake up again. He can’t do Koholint again.
But now it’s nightfall and they’re going to make him sleep and they’re going to make him drink that tonic when he can’t and he doesn’t want to dream and―
A weight settles on top of Legend’s chest. Legend’s not sure how he got to be lying down, but he is now, and his head is pillowed on Time’s lap and Wolfie’s head is lying on his chest.
The snake uncoils. Legend sucks in a dumbfounded breath and it gets caught in his throat. His arms sting. His chest aches. His head hurts. Wolfie is so heavy and Time’s leg is not nearly as soft as Legend would like it to be.
A cry bubbles out of Legend’s mouth and Legend turns to press his face into Time’s leg.
Time begins rubbing his back. “It’s okay, Ledge.”
And like that, the cries flood out. Legend presses his snotty face harder against Time’s leg, like that will somehow make the cries stop. They don’t.
“You’re okay,” Time tells him, and keeps rubbing circles into his back.
Wolfie inches closer to Legend, nosing Legend’s face with his disgusting, gross wet nose. Legend clings to Wolfie’s fur, probably a little too tight but Legend knows Twilight doesn’t mind. Twilight would never mind.
Wolfie stays put, and Time keeps rubbing Legend’s back, speaking in soft tones and reassurances, and the camp stays quiet, stuck in its stunned silence.
Eventually, Legend’s crying runs its course and Legend is left with a runny nose and a headache and sticky cheeks, left lying prone, curled up pathetically on Time’s lap.
Time hasn’t stopped rubbing his back. Wolfie still hasn’t moved.
“Back with us, Ledge?” Time asks gently.
Legend nods timidly, but doesn’t dare move. This peace is fragile, and if he moves, he might very well shatter with it.
“Okay,” Time says. “Let’s sit up, drink some water, and calm down, then.”
Legend does so robotically, letting Time guide his movements until he’s sitting up, Wolfie moving to lay his head across Legend’s lap. Someone hands Legend a waterskin, and Legend is suddenly drinking, lukewarm water cascading down his dry throat. It does help. Legend hates it.
Legend forces out a breath. “Sorry.”
His voice is hoarse and weird from crying. He breathes in deeply through his nose to try to clear away the snot. Time hands him a tissue, and he blows hard into it. He rubs his face with his other hand.
Time’s hand is still resting solidly on his back. Wolfie nips judgmentally at Legend’s fingers for the apology, and Legend slowly begins rubbing his hand down Wolfie’s head. The motion is rhythmic enough to soothe something deep inside of Legend, and he finds he can’t stop petting now that he’s started.
Their camp is suspiciously quiet and subdued. The others have scattered, though that doesn’t keep them from staring―and trying not to stare at the same time. Wild is storing food back in his slate. Sky and Wind are rounding up dishes from their foreshortened meal. Four is beginning to get ready for bed. Wars and Hyrule are absent, probably to patrol.
Legend sucks in another shuddering breath. Wolfie moans a little, getting his head comfy on Legend’s lap. Seems neither of them are moving for a while now.
Time rubs Legend’s back one more time before pulling away and squeezing his shoulder. They’ve all come to know that means it’s time to talk .
Which Legend does not want to do, but Wolfie has him pinned down, forcing him to wait for what Time has to say.
“Do you want to tell me what set you off?” Time asks.
Legend shakes his head. He’d rather not think of it at all, honestly. Rather not remember that sleep is on the horizon.
No, don’t think of it, Legend reminds himself, but like that the reminder has sunk in and Legend’s chest tightens again. He swallows, hand automatically moving to scratch at his elbow again, up and down in a soothing, rhythmic motion.
Time puts his hand over Legend’s, guiding Legend’s hand back down to Wolfie’s head. “Did you work yourself up again?”
Legend manages to nod.
He can hear Hyrule and Wars coming back.
“It’s, um, it’s all clear,” Hyrule reports awkwardly.
Time looks at him, and Legend feels just slightly less pinned down than before. “Thank you, Hyrule, Wars.”
Warriors steps toward them, and Legend looks up at Warriors’ face, which is twisted into some expression in-between sympathetic and worried. “How’re you doing, Ledge?”
Legend shrugs and looks away.
Time rubs Legend’s back again. “I think he just needs some time, Cap.”
They keep talking, but Legend can’t make himself focus on their words. Before long, Warriors has walked away and Time is still rubbing Legend’s back.
“Do you think taking a nap might help?” Time asks.
Legend stiffens. “No!”
Time jumps a little at the shout. A few heads lift, then rapidly turn away. Wolfie takes a moment to recover from Legend’s shout.
Time eases Legend toward him, and Legend lets himself be led bonelessly until he’s leaning against Time. “I’m guessing that’s what upset you?”
Legend stares up at Time’s face.
Time runs a hand through Legend’s hair. “I figure there’s a reason you don’t sleep. Is it because you’re afraid?”
Legend looks down, curling in on himself. “It’s stupid.”
“And I’m afraid of the moon,” Time tells him.
Both Legend and Wolfie stare at him.
Time chuckles, and rubs Legend’s arm. “We all have our fears,” he tells Legend, and squeezes Legend’s arm. “And we all deal with them differently. Although, I don’t think the way you’re dealing with it is that healthy.”
Legend hums.
“Your Uncle said not to use the tonic unless it’s an emergency, so I don’t want to use that. I doubt you want to take it either,” Time guesses. Legend shakes his head. Yeah, no. No tonic. “Do you want to try some tea instead? Wild and I drink some calming tea on full moon nights. Do you want to try that?”
Legend’s heart freezes. “Nothing…” He swallows thickly. “No adding things to drinks. Please .”
“Okay.” Legend’s perplexed by Time’s lack of argument or protest, but he isn’t going to complain. If it gets him out of taking that tonic, of being forced to sleep, then he’ll take it. “How about some warm milk instead?”
Legend considers it. “I can… try that. I think.”
Time nods. “Okay.” He squeezes Legend’s arm one last time. “We can all figure this out together, okay? And it’s okay if it takes time. We just want you to take care of yourself, okay?”
And… that actually doesn’t sound too horrible.