Chapter 1: An Unfortunate Set of Circumstances
Summary:
A shopping trip goes wrong and Flora's dad is an ass.
Notes:
Here's a new fic and me still not knowing how his AU works!
Excuse any inaccuracies with real world stuff, I'm sheltered, a hermit, and get my knowledge from TV shows and random stuff I hear and see XD
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“ Shit .”
Wild’s laughter after his friend’s (very light) swear, does very odd things to Fable’s heart and she’s not precisely sure what to make of them as the scarred young man nudges Flora’s side gently. “Watch it,” he’s all grins, and it tugs the skin on one side of his face tighter than the other, makes his eyes crease up in just a particular way, “Time might dock your pay if he finds out you swore in front of the baby.”
From behind the three of them, Legend’s eye roll is near audible . “We’re the same age .”
“Winter baby,” Wild’s boots pause so he can turn and point back to the pinkette, before pointing to his own self after, and Flora next to him “spring babies.”
A sharp brow rises. “ Same age.”
Fable giggles, just a bit, into one hand, turning to Flora in hopes of seeing similar amusement on the other girl’s face, just to see, instead, that her friend is typing away furiously at her cell phone, a pensive expression on her face that has both of the boys sobering up considerably once they notice it too. “What’s the matter?”
“Father.”
All three of the rest of them groan.
Flora looks every bit like she wants to do the same, sliding her cell back into her pocket with a huff. “Apparently his new investors are in town and thought they saw his daughter and charge ‘wandering about like hooligans’,” and her accent gets just a bit more pronounced as she says that part, face falling from the smile it’d held for most of the day, turning instead with one of those tired looks to Wild. “He wants us back at the house in thirty minutes, washed, dressed, and ready for company.”
“To make them think it wasn’t us,” comes the answer, slow, and knowing in a way she doesn’t care to hear, like it bothers him somehow, but he doesn’t feel like he can say it.
Flora nods, then glances to herself and Legend. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d be so upset.”
“It’s okay,” she tries to assure, offering a smile of her own.
“You couldn’t have known your dad would be spying,” Legend adds, shrugging, before smirking briefly at her, nothing with fire, but a bit playful all the same as he adds, “next time, we can hit the town in places he won’t have anyone looking.”
Light touches Wild’s eyes again as he glances over, not to her, but to the vet, chuckling a bit himself now. “You are not beating the street rat accusations.”
“Rich kid.”
“By proxy.”
“Still a rich kid.”
This time, it’s Flora that seeks her eyes from between the two boys, rolling her own with an apologetic look once she’s met them.
“What does that make you then,” Wild challenges, crossing his arms, “if you’re spending time with us? If proxy makes you count as a rich kid then-”
It’s the theatre kid in him, she thinks, that has the shorter of the two boys flicking one hand in some dramatic motion towards himself, giving the slightest of bows to the other before the accusation is finished, and saying instead. “Fashion consultant, naturally .”
Wild snorts again. Dang he’s cute. “With the way you dress?”
Another cock of the brow, hidden mostly behind hair as Legend hasn’t fully risen from his impromptu bow, but the deadpan stare makes itself seen all the same. “I wear sturdy clothes I can afford to ruin, because my work is rough on them. I do know how to dress though, or did you not see me helping Flora pick the copious clothing in your arms right now?”
It is true. He had been a very big help for both of them- all three if she’s being honest- when they’d been at the previous few stores. His taste is good, even if his clothing doesn’t reflect it, and short of getting Styla to join them (which hadn’t been possible, much to their disappointment) she doubts that anyone else they know could have done better. Not that Wild really cares about facts, not when it comes to teasing the other, otherwise he’d know better given his own state of dress on most days (which is frankly horrendous, as Ralph as told her many times when he’d seen pictures of her crush).
Maybe the two would have kept picking at each other, smirks growing and making her heart keep doing summersaults, but that’s about when a black car pulls up right in front of them, the Bosphoramus family’s logo on the door, and interrupts them, prompting their party to split. Flora’s only just in the car though before her head pops out again, eyes wide as she stares at Wild.
“Shit,” she whispers it this time, Smith’s influence definitely warring against the fact that one of her father’s people is in the driver’s seat, “your bike!”
His bike . Frankly, that’s one of the things she’s more disappointed about, because as much fun as Fable’s had today with Wild, Legend, and Flora, she was really hoping she could manage to get a ride on the thing. Papa always liked bikes, and she’d wanted to ride one for forever, but the thought of getting to ride one with someone (a very particular someone at that), was definitely on her mind when Wild and Flora had pulled up to their meeting place this morning, riding on it.
“Oh feathers ,” Wild groans, head lulling back for a second as he stares skywards, realization smacking him abruptly as well, it would seem. After all, thirty minutes isn’t enough time to circle back to the thing, grab it, and still make it to the Bosphoramus house in time for whatever dinner they’re having with Rhoam’s investors. It’s unfortunate, but she’s also not sure how to help , given that she’s not legal to drive a car, much less a bike, and she can’t exactly call someone with a truck to grab it for him.
Does she know anyone with a truck? Twilight has one, right? Although- Fable winces- it's barely more than a hunk of rust with an engine louder than is reasonable, and every second seeming like it’s going to fall into pieces at the slightest provocation. Why he hasn’t replaced it yet is beyond her! She’s seen Lullaby’s books, it’s not like he isn’t getting paid good money!
“We’ll grab it,” Legend assures, while she’s lost in her head.
Mused and messy hair, all slipping free from a hasty ponytail, brushes over her fellow actor’s face as he regards the stage hand. “You don’t have a license.”
And he just shrugs . “Cops don’t know that.”
Excuse? “ I know that!”
Violet eyes don’t even blink as they slide towards her, a glimmer in their depths as the vet asks, “you have diplomatic immunity, right?”
She’s actually not sure on that one. She’s here with the ambassador, and is technically Mrs. Ambi’s legal ward, but she’s not family and is, by birth, still a citizen of Hyrule. However, she’s also a citizen of Labrynna, so.... “Duel citizen, it’s not the same.” Better to be safe than sorry, right?
“Right,” dusky eyes slip back to the watching actor with a grin, “if we get caught, I’m mute and she doesn’t speak Hylian. We’ll be fine.”
She can see the hesitation, and honestly, it’s valid. She isn’t sure of the idea herself, and Legend was most certainly not the person she was hoping to ride a bike with today, but Wild’s in a tight spot and they would be helping him-
“Fine,” scarred fingers dip into a jacket pocket to dig out the bike’s keys, holding them out for a paint-stained palm. “Just be careful with it.”
Even for all her fondness for this man, Fable does not fail to see the irony of that request, though she has better grace than to show it. Unlike Legend, who levels him with a deadpan look and declares, “I cannot believe you actually just said that to me .”
And gosh, the flush that creeps over Wild’s ears is adorable- so is the way he rubs at his neck and rolls his eyes away as he huffs, “Yeah, yeah I get it. Sorry about the props.”
“Which time?”
“Just leave the bike at the opera, okay?” And he’s moving, climbing into the car as it’s driver makes an impatient noise at them. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Goodbyes are cut off by the door being pulled shut, and it’s not a second later that the car is speeding off, leaving her and Legend standing awkwardly together on the sidewalk. All in all, not in her plans for the day. Not that she dislikes Legend at all, he’s fun really, and, again, his taste is immaculate, in friends as well as clothes, but she’s still a bit disappointed as she moves to follow him back to where Wild had parked.
“I cannot believe this!”
“It’s not my fault,” Legend groans into his hands, voice straining in an odd way, but she can’t make out his expression to tell why.
No, because at present, Fable is pacing up and down the length of a holding cell, in a police station! Like a criminal! “ If we get caught, I’m mute and you don’t speak hy-lian ,” the mockery sounds, heaved and huffed and thoroughly annoyed. “Fat lot of good that was!”
“I didn’t even start the bike!” Legend huffs back at her, finally dropping his hands, but not to look at her, just to... stare, at the wall. He looks resigned. He looks entirely too calm for the situation, which is (again!) that they’re in a jail cell at present!
Honestly! This guy! “Yet we’re still in here!”
“Because people are dumb and nosy,” he’s leaning back against the wall, eyes turned up but closed, jaw and shoulders tight as Rhoam’s hold on his daughter, but otherwise just he’s slumping where he is. He’s kind of pale, but again, he should be freaking out here! Why is he not freaking out? Why is he not more upset that they’re in jail?
It was a joke before, about him being a hooligan, right? Or was it a street rat? It doesn’t matter- Legend’s not the type to have been in juvie before, is he? He’s a blasted theatre kid! Those don’t have time to get into bad crowds, right?
“And yet?!?!?!?”
“We’ll be fine,” he hasn't raised his voice once since after they were dropped here and he’d been huffing at their arresting officer that they were making a mistake. “Your adult will come here, and mine will to, and whoever shows up can confirm that we know the bike’s owner and weren’t, in fact, stealing it.” Paint flecked fingers drag through his hair, and it’s the oddest thing to notice how the roots are coming in dark, but she does anyways, before glaring at him as he adds, “charges won’t stick, Fable. We’re fine.”
“I certainly hope so,” she grumbles back, plopping herself down next to him in some effort to contain herself.
Gracious, what will Mrs. Ambi say? What will Ralph say? They’re still wary about letting her go off into town on her own, always reminding her how different Hyrule is from Labrynna, how dangerous this city can be if you’re not careful. Granted, it’s probably better to end up in jail because of a mistake, where she’s arguably safer than she’d be in an alleyway, but it’s still going to make them fuss at her.
As if she didn’t have enough of that this last year, after Papa was killed.
She understands that Ambi feels guilty, knows that Ralph cares, especially after having grown up together, but it’s still been a lot. She’d thought being in the opera would help, but maybe not, if she’s going to end up in situations like these as a result of hanging out with the people there!
A horrid little part of her huffs that this wouldn’t have happened if not for Legend.
Another part reminds that she’d wanted to help Wild and Flora (mostly Wild), and that she’d not only agreed, but also been helping to try and move the bike when someone, she has no idea who, had called the cops on them, thinking that they were bike thieves of some sort.
Really, it’s all just bad luck, she supposes. Flora’s father being in a mood, the bike being so terribly beautiful and expensive (a gift, she thinks Wild had said, once), and Legend’s choice in oversized and ratty hoodie which, honestly, does make him look rather like a homeless person. Granted, her own nice clothes should have at least made it look like a bike-jacking (that’s a thing, right?), but here they are, both of them having been taken in, and despite jokes, there’d been no Labrynnian or fake mutism involved. It’s just a really crappy situation, she muses into folded arms, watching the hall for signs of anyone coming.
“We didn’t even get a phone call.” Is what she ends up saying instead, and it comes out like a pout.
Legend, at her side, just chuckles. It sounds hollow, and when she glances over, his face is tighter than she’d realized before. “Yeah. C’est la vie, I guess.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Currently scared shitless, if we’re being frank right now,” he sounds, “I’ll get mad later.”
Oh. Oh now she just feels bad for yelling at him!
“You know,” he’s not looking at her, but he’s trying to smile as he looks around the room instead, “my uncle actually met his last girlfriend here.”
Twilight? The single-most stable, honest, dependable man she’s ever met (other than Papa) dated a jailbird? “Really?”
“ Yep ,” he pops the ‘p’, tugging at his jacket sleeves as he answers, like he’s trying to cover his hands with them. “Some thug went after his little brother, a fight broke out, and he woke up here,” violet slide towards the hall, blank, face the same, voice worse. “Midna was in the holding cell too. Don’t know why, they never said, but it was certainly the interesting meet cute.”
Hang on. “Are you hitting on me right now?”
That has a reaction from him; dark eyes darting over, all wide and startled and shocked before he stammers out “what? Is- you thought- I'm not a total ass you know!”
Fable blinks back at him, not sure how to process that answer and thus just...waiting for him to finish.
“I don’t even- I have no interest in you at all! Like- no offense,” and he’s flushing now, looking quite uncomfortable and maybe more than a bit panicked (did she push him too far?) “You’re nice enough and good looking I guess-”
“You guess?”
“I live with actors!” His hands go up, sleeves falling back again. “And models! Statistically, my understanding of good looks is skewed so far that it’s hopeless! I have no clue what’s considered attractive unless it’s Artemis and Wars, and only because they have so many people simping for them!”
Not... untrue. Honestly, she hadn’t thought about it before, but Legend is, unfortunately, very correct. His perception of what the average person looks like must be very skewed indeed after a lifetime with the most attractive people on the planet just... chilling around him. Not that the face he sees in the mirror would help at all, because he’s not bad looking himself. In fact, he’s nearly unfairly pretty, for a boy, and it’s made her more than just slightly annoyed before when she’s seen him don a wig and dress to fill in on stage, because he makes a prettier girl than she does on some days!
“I do not like you,” Legend declares again, before adding, voice dropping again to strained and exhausted, “not like that anyway. You’re a good co-worker, and I enjoyed hanging out today, but I wouldn’t ask you out.”
She’s glad, but also, ouch . It’s silly to feel both at once, but, again , she’s just a girl here. “Thanks.”
He heaves out a sigh, still not looking at her. “Well, what do you want me to say?” And now he does look, face falling slack into something unfairly pleading and ridiculously passionate, as he declares “oh, Fable , you’re a woman unlike any before seen in this world! Sadly, I am but a mortal man, unworthy of your most gracious hand or so much as a look from your beauteous gaze! Thus , much as I adore you, I shall instead admire from afar, as I am not worthy to so much as kiss the ground where your feet have trod ! ”
It’s ridiculous, totally and completely, and makes her snort despite herself, pushing against him lightly, which is apparently enough to nearly make him topple over, dramatic expression fading to one of surprise instead. “I’m sitting , you idiot.”
“And I’m mocking you,” he snorts back, catching himself and settling again, violet slipping back to her briefly, just to be gone again when she tries to meet them, a breath sounding, measured and strained. “Made you stop yelling though.”
And it did. They’re quiet after that, he sitting with measured breathes and she fiddling with her sleeves, both watching the hall for the first signs of movement.
It feels like forever, but realistically, the clock in the hall (seen if they sit by the bars and crane their heads in just the right angle) indicates that it’s only about half an hour or so. Still, it feels far longer, so the second she hears a voice in the hall, hears the distinctive click of designer shoes and the catches a flash of red hair, well, she’s up already and sighing the biggest breath of relief she’s ever breathed in her life.
“-hearing from our lawyers!” Ralph’s voice is, of course, raised, very upset, and nearly music to her ears. All the better though when she hears keys accompanying it.
She doesn’t wait for Legend, doesn’t even glance at him as she moves for the door, ready the second it’s open to throw her arms around Ralph, who catches her like he’d expected it, pushing her away only a second after with an appraising look, taking her in, making sure she’s alright, before glancing at the cell and then promptly back at the cop. “You placed a diplomat’s charge in general lockup with some common trash? She is a lady! ”
“Sir,” the officer tries to assure, looking pained and very much like he wants to throttle whichever of his co-workers made the mistake he’s now getting yelled at for, “I assure you, we have someone-”
“How fast are your men?” Ralph pushes on, hands still holding her by the shoulders, defensive and outraged and, characteristically, over the top about the whole matter. “Fast enough to stop a fist? To open a door and stop whatever alley-trash you gather from injuring or possibly murdering someone? Without setting the whole lot free? My goodness, I didn’t know you were employing super-powered individuals here at the CCPD!”
She almost feels bad for the officer. Almost. And then she remembers that she got arrested for helping her friend and decides she’s allowed to feel spiteful about this. Sure, the guy isn’t totally to blame, but he also never gave them their phone call when they were tossed in here, and, also, he got ink on her jacket sleeves during printing.
That said, Ralph is currently insulting her co-worker and...maybe friend? They’re friendly at least, and they’d spent a day hanging out, even if it had been with other people as well, and even if the officer does deserve it, Legend doesn’t deserve the verbal abuse, especially after helping her to calm down earlier. “I was fine,” she interrupts, catching onto one arm still holding tight to her, making cerulean eyes, just a shade lighter than Wild’s really, flicker down to her. “He’s actually a friend,” she nods towards the cell, “we were shopping together.”
Thirty minutes ago, that answer had gotten her a mocking ‘shopping for a new bike apparently!’, but her sort-of-brother gives no such answer, just raises his brows and glances back in the cell once more, before turning to the guard.
He didn’t even have to ask, the officer just sighs. “We’ve contacted their guardian already.”
“Well,” the red-head hisses, ice in his words, “considering there is no current case against them, is it really necessary to keep them locked up while they wait?”
The officer sighs, says something about talking to his chief, and excuses himself. Cerulean bore into his back as he goes, leaving Fable and Ralph together outside the bars, while Legend is decidedly still behind them.
It’s weird. It’s uncomfortable. It always looked creepy on the telly, but it’s far worse in real life, and she hates standing on either side when she’s still close enough to see them, though it is nice to know she can leave now if she wants. And she does want, but she’d feel like a real ass if she walked away and left her friend alone in here.
“You’re okay?” Ralph sounds put upon, but she can see the worry in his gaze, so she nods quickly, smiling as best she can.
“Fine. Scared,” very scared, “but I’ll be okay.”
He nods, somewhat assured, hands slipping as he turns to glance into the cell now, actually looking this time. “And you?”
She glances back in, expecting to see Legend either still tense against the wall or watching with one of those passively curious expressions on his face, like he’s watching some sort of soap play out in front of his very eyes and is passing judgement inside his head on all the goings on. What she sees though is neither of those things. Sure, Legend’s still sitting there, knees up and crossed arms resting on them, but the expression on his face is far from passive amusement or tense annoyance. No, it’s oddly open, startled, all wide eyes behind messy hair as he stares, not at her, but at the redhead standing beside her.
“Ralph?”
There’s a full body start and then- “ Link ?” Shock sounds in his voice the same as it flashes in his face and Fable swears she sees the man stumble for a second before he moves towards the bars, careful composure shattered , “what the dickens?” And then, far more shocking than the fact that they recognize each other, he exclaims “we thought you were dead!”
Notes:
Next chapter will be dropping soon, I promise! I have like...four written? In total? So far? This setme off, okay? I have ideas and a plan and almost none of it has to do with legend yet, but the can was opened so ALL the worms are coming out now!
Chapter 2: RALPH: Enters Stage Left
Summary:
Ralph goes to the police station and causes drama, because why wouldn't he? He's Ralph!
Notes:
This one was not supposed to end up this way but I'm riding the wave, so here you go!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Suffice it to say, Ralph was not at all prepared to receive a call this evening, on his mother’s behalf, detailing the fact that Fable is, currently, in jail. No- nobody who knows Fable is ever even sightly prepared to receive such a call, and it catches him more than somewhat off guard.
She was supposed to be with friends this afternoon, enjoying time off work before the next play- he's not sure what it is this time, though he knows she’s said many times. Usually, he just checks the tickets she gives him- when he has a chance- to remember, but he’d not had them on him when the phone call had come through. No, because he’d been helping Mother gather her things for a meeting instead, hence why he’d picked up the phone on her behalf, as she was already running late.
She’ll feel bad for not going, more so for having him do it, but he really doesn’t mind. This is Fable, and she may as well be a younger sister for how much time they’ve spent together growing up, nevermind the fact that she’s now legally under his mother’s care ever since her father’s murder. As it is, he’s almost glad he’s able to do it himself, because when he walks in and finds out it’s because she supposedly stole a bike , a bike he recognizes immediately- when he sees a picture of it- as belonging to her crush, well, he doesn’t believe a word of it.
The girl might be slightly obsessed, but not to that degree, and stealing her crush’s things isn’t something she would do.
Sorting through the matter takes more effort and nonsense and legal red-tape than he’s keen on, takes far too long when he knows she’s just back there in some holding cell until everything is handled. The moment he’s permitted, however, he’s marching back and fully prepared to take her straight back to the house and far, far away from all the nonsense she’s had to suffer today.
Needless to say, he fully expects to see a familiar face on the other side of the bars.
He doesn’t expect two .
Yet, even as Fable stands next to him, he’s finding himself staring into nearly unrecognizable violet eyes, in a face that’s both hardly changed and impossibly altered since last he saw it, and one that he’d never thought he’d see again , nevermind see alive and... well, not ‘well’ , but alive and in one piece at any rate!
And Link just stares back at him, blinking in what’s clearly shock, sitting up slowly from where he’d been hunched up on the floor, ears pricking forwards in that curious way that- well, sort of makes his heart tinge just a bit. He didn’t think he’d see this guy again, ever! He thought- he'd thought...
All the intel Mother had received last fall had indicated that both Raven and his son were thoroughly and completely ‘disposed of’, to put it crudely. He’d glimpsed some of the pictures taken of the scenes (plural!), and promptly spent quite a few hours hunched over the garbage can while Mother had sat with her head in her hands, neither of them quite ready to process the truth.
Raven was a good man, a great one even. Sure, maybe they’d never been very close, but he doubts he was expected to be close to his mother’s bodyguard. He still trusted him though, still admired him to a certain extent, and still respected him at the very least. The kid he’d had visiting him that last summer less so, especially when he was just so... free , but they’d gained something of a mutual understanding between themselves over the course of that summer. Not as close as Ralph sometimes wishes he’d tried for; not really friends , but it was still enough to make him mourn when he’d thought the other boy had been killed.
Except he’s not dead, he’s sitting here, right before Ralph’s eyes, in a jail cell, staring up at him with this shattered look in a dark gaze and disbelief written plainly across his face.
He’s sitting in a jail cell .
Honestly, Ralph’s not sure how to describe whatever he’s feeling, but that detail sticks out in his head above all the rest, second only to the fact that Link is currently alive , and that, and that alone is the reason he turns on his heel and marches his way right back into the chief’s office to demand the release of not only Fable, but also her brother and so-called ‘partner in crime’.
It doesn't seem, initially, that he'll get much of a chance to say anything though. No, because by the time Ralph has reached the office, there are four other people in there, and try as he might, there’s no getting through them. They’re an odd set, strangely imposing given their state of dress which is, in all honesty, a mixed bag. There’s a lady and a man, both dark haired, standing at the chief’s desk and speaking with him, an odd pair to be certain; she finely dressed, slender, tall, and polished enough to stand at Mother’s side and not look out of place, whereas he is the very picture of every country western hick Ralph has ever seen portrayed on television growing up, tattered flannel shirt and all. The two seem to be doing most of the talking, but the long-haired, blue-jacketed teenager standing behind them (Wild, he recalls, if he’s remembering correctly from Fable’s chatter), certainly seems to have plenty he’d like to say too as he seethes nearby, unlike the black-clad and one-eyed man currently leant against the doorframe in a very imposing manner.
The chief spots him though, somehow, and stands when he enters, looking already vaguely uncomfortable at the moment and steadily seeming to feel more so, which is good to see. Ralph wants him uncomfortable, wants him fumbling (only for the moment, not in general, not in his daily work, just for this meeting) because that, as always, will give him the upper hand in the coming discussion. “Mr. Ambi, is there a problem?”
All eyes flicker his way, fire in one, ice in another, annoyance clearly displayed by Fable’s little crush, and the one-eyed man unreadable save for a general sense of displeasure that may or may not just be normal for him by the looks of it. It’s not unusual for him to see such though, not after growing up at Mother’s side and being well accustomed to all the sorts of people she’s obligated to dine, discuss, and debate with. Certainly, there’s is a sort of raw emotion and life to them that very unlike what Mother typically sees, but he doesn’t let it dissuade him from marching right through the lot of them (now that he can) to stand before the chief.
“I’m afraid there is,” he can see the way Chief Venezuela almost winces at those words, but doesn’t particularly care, “you see,” and he’s making a show of it, he really is , tugging at his shirt-sleeves and straightening himself out after his brief embrace with his sort-of sister, “I find it very interesting that you currently have missing person in your holding cell right now and failed to notify any of your higher ups.”
The chief pauses, frowning. “I beg your pardon?”
Ralph arches a brow at the man, well aware that that alone will do little to help him, but generally just trying to keep the impression of the power being in his own hands. He’s young, he knows that, and he needs them to forget that by whatever means he can manage, for Fable and Link’s sakes both. “Link Sutherland?”
The chief’s eyes flicker towards the couple still standing at his desk, which is not at all what Ralph wants to see, because there should be no doubt at all right now that focus should be on him. He should not be being glossed over for some random locals here, especially not in these circumstances!
“Famously disappeared last summer,” he pushes, making the man turn back to him, all confused and attentive now, though the lapse a second before still irks the redhead, “during an incident concerning- shall we say- international affairs.”
Chief Venezuala’s eyes widen just slightly, though otherwise he seems to be trying to remain unphased as he answers, “international affairs?”
“Security matters,” Ralph adds, though he’s well aware he might get him in severe trouble for saying so. Still, he glosses over that fact for the time being, instead leaning back on his heels again and blessing heaven, mentally, for his recent growth spurt leaving him at eye-level with the other man.
Again, the chief glances over to the other people in the room, which is just downright rude at this point, so Ralph tries the one thing that he supposes might work, considering all that seems to have done little at all.
“Not only is the young man in question the only known witness of a murder-” and those in the room make various noises of, well, surprise , but that’s to be expected when people like that hear a word like ‘murder’, “but according to the victim’s last will and testament , both of his children; Link and Zelda Sutherland; are under the care and protection of Ambassador Ambi herself,” and he hates throwing around a name to get respect, because he’d rather like it to be his own instead if he must, but this time he needs to ,and his pride can hold it’s horses for the moment. So, he uses the name, Mother’s name, and to be extra certain it lands , he looks the chief dead in the eyes as he adds, “my mother , as I’m sure you’re aware.”
The chief is frowning now, and, again, looking to the other people in the room like they actually hold any importance to this matter, which is more than slightly irritating now. Ralph is honestly seconds from threatening legal action again, just to see if that will work at all, when the chief finally speaks. “It was my understanding that you were the young man’s guardian, Mr. Sutherland.”
That prompts him to turn, and naturally he’s looking to the one-eyed man because, well, he is a fair bit older, but there’s certainly a resemblance to Raven there, enough that perhaps this could be his father? Raven hadn’t not known his father growing up, by all accounts, but perhaps a connection was made later in life? Closer to his death?
It’s the brunette that speaks though, the one with fire in his eyes and an accent to match his flannel. “Yessir, I am.”
The chief nods, slowly, considering, before glancing back up to him. “I’m afraid without documentation or a court order, our offices can’t hand the young man over to you or the ambassador's staff. If ,” he stresses, moving and sitting back down in his chair, like a dismissal , like he’s got control of this matter in any way, “you were to obtain such documents, we’d be happy to assist, but for the time being, I’m going to have to release the lad to his documented guardian.” And then the man glances over to the teen in the room,; the boy’s only a little younger than Ralph really, but he’s making an effort here to look older, whereas the kid clearly isn’t. “You said you gave him the keys?”
“Yes sir,” the lad nods, light catching on the rather obvious scarring that pulls across half of his face. “He was doing me a favor; it wasn’t a theft.”
A nod from the chief, and then he’s slapping a folder closed on his desk. “Well, case closed then. You all have our most sincere apologies, and I will personally see to the young man’s release this very instant.” And he does.
And Ralph very well could pick up his phone right then and there and contact Mother’s offices, contact her security team, contact her boss for that matter and report that the missing Sutherland boy is, in fact, alive and safe. He could have the offices full of Mother’s people before they made it out the door, if he just made a single call.
But he doesn’t.
Because the moment the cell is opened, he sees Link dart over to the cowboy and immediately get swept up in return. He sees the way all four of the strangers gather around, the way the lady catches him in her arms, curled up and around him with tears in her eyes while Link’s fingers twist up and crease her blouse, the way Wild is apologizing profusely while Link just snorts and rolls his eyes and tells him ‘it’s fine’, all while the one-eyes man stands over the lot of them with hardly a change save a loosening of his shoulders and a faint glint in his eye. And Ralph watches, all while Fable stands there at his side, and he decides it’s just not worth it.
He saw the pictures, he snooped through Mother’s files when she’d left the room. He’d forced himself to read every report, trying, desperately, to see anything at all that might offer a sign that his almost-friend was still alive, was still somehow alright, that perhaps a mistake had been made. He doesn’t know the full story of what happened, but he does know that Link’s seen enough.
The guy doesn’t need more agents and suits and questions- not right now. It's inevitable, of course, because in the end, it very much was an international case; he hadn’t lied about that- but, if he’s careful, maybe he can convince Mother to handle this one with tact. After all, she met Link too, and the second she sees that shattered stare, when it’d been all star-flecked and shining only a year and a half ago, well, he doesn’t doubt she’ll do her all to make it easy for him.
For now, Ralph just wraps his arm around Fable and pulls her towards the stairs and their waiting car.
Link’s alive, he can satisfy himself with that for the time being. Anything else can be addressed later.
Notes:
The ask that inspired this fic was mostly about Ralph, so I hope this answers at least some of the questions anyone has about his place in this AU, although I assure you he's not done being around yet
And if you're curious, yes, I do have plans for him and Hyrule >:)
Chapter 3: A Series of Unfortunate Phonecalls
Summary:
Twilight was on a date, now he's going to the police station with the mother of his kid while said date sits in a bar, probably hating his guts. Does he feel like an ass? Absolutely. Does his kid come first? Always.
Notes:
Twilight POV!
When I said this fic was gonna cover more than just Legend's history, I meant it! The whole family is gonna be involved in this one! (Which I guess means Ralph and Ambi too, through Fable).
Hope you enjoy the continued drama!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The call comes at the worst of times.
It is a rare day that Twilight can get a date. Not that he tries very hard to do so, given his circumstances, work, and the fact that he’s still raising a kid, but even so, there have been some attempts made. This time was his doing. They have a show this weekend and, blessedly, got everything set and settled for the show a day early. Whatever it is that the cast has to do, he’s not sure, not being in it, but that’d meant that, until showtime rolls around, he is a free man.
He’d asked Ilia if she wanted to go for dinner. Nothing fancy, not when she’s as uncomfortable in fine restaurants as he is, but just a catch up once they were both off work, chatting and laughing and complaining about their jobs like people their age do. She seems pleased that he’d been the one to ask this time, and he’s mighty proud that she feels that way.
Usually, he doesn’t get much of a chance to do nice things for her. Oh, a nice gift here and helping her out with her car when he can, but spending time together is tricky with their conflicting schedules. Telma’s closes at ten, whereas the opera workers might be up till past midnight after a show, setting things to rights before getting to go home and crash for a whole day. Nevermind the fact that what time he does have free, he’s been using to try and arrange a sort of co-parenting plan with Dusk, making time for her and Legend to get to know each other better, and that’s outside of the usual dinners with Time and Malon, the visits back to Ordon and babysitting whenever Gully’s folks have something come up.
Suffice it to say, he’s savoring the chance for some adult time, to just be with someone his own age, drinking and eating and talking, all while quite content that Legend and Wild both are occupied at the moment, with each other and their gal pals, and that at least until nine, he’s a free man, or longer if they’re lucky.
Or so he thought.
Ilia’s hand is settled on his knee, and she’s leaning in with a glittering smile as she shares something that makes his own lips twitch up against the rim of his cup, mind hardly on what she’s saying and more on whether or not she’d kill him if he asked for permission to kiss her, when the phone rings.
Her smile is dashed to pieces as confusion replaces it, and she’s drawing back and fumbling at her pockets even as he does the same, neither sure who’s phone is going, because the ring is just...generic. Nothing from friends or family or anyone who typically might be calling at this hour. Really, he’s fully expecting some sort of spam caller, with an accent thicker than his own, or a computerized voice telling him that his car insurance policy is something something something . He is not, therefor, expecting to see ‘Crown City Police Department’ showing on the caller ID.
Ilia glances up at him when she sees it, confusion now turned to alarm, but he doesn’t address that before accepting the call and promptly answering. “Twi Sutherland, how can I help you?”
There’s a small part of him that’s terrified something happened, a part of his mind that darts over the known locations of everyone close to him; Ilia’s with him, Collin’s with Rusl and Uli back in Ordon still, Legend and Wild are downtown with Flora and Fable, shopping, Time is probably at the opera still, Malon at the ranch- he doesn’t think Dusk would have him listed anywhere as a contact, but last he checked, she was planning to be at home reading a book, so nothing should have happened to her, right?
The voice on the other end of the line, however, stiff and professional, is very direct about why they’re calling, and he’s answering quickly, sharply, back in return even as he turns about in his seat, waving a hand to flag down the bartender even as the officer on the other end of the line wishes him a goodbye.
“Everything okay?” Is the first thing said the moment he’s moved his phone from his ear.
The bartender sees him a second after, and he’s fumbling for his wallet already when he answers her. “It’s Ledge, he’s in jail for some reason- I-” and he expects it, he does, the way her face crumples, the disappointment and the way the spark in her eyes just dims as she pulls back into her own space.
This isn’t anything new for Twilight, but it doesn’t make it any easier when Ilia sighs, nodding her head and reaching for her drink again. “Go then, I get it.” But she’s disappointed; she’s trying to act like she’s not, but he can see it clear as day.
He can’t fix it though, just seethes at himself on the inside while outwardly apologizing profusely as he arranges to pay for their, as of yet unserved, meal. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” The dreaded words.
“I’ll make it up to you, somehow.” He’ll try, if she’s even willing to let him. Sure, she smiles at him for it, but that thread of annoyance is still tugging behind it, making it tight, and the stage-hand already knows he’ll be lucky if she so much as calls him again after this; most don’t.
All told though, it’s not like he has a choice . Not really. If Legend’s in trouble, then he’s going to go deal with it, no matter who he’s out with or what they’re doing; his kid comes first, always has, always will. Not that that makes for an attractive quality to most of the gals he’s dated, but that’s just how life works sometimes, he supposes.
The second he’s finished settling up, telling Ilia to order anything else she likes and just close out on his tab when she’s ready, again apologizing as he does so, he’s up and moving for the door, already scrolling through contacts to make a call of his own.
He hates that he can feel his date’s eyes on him when the call goes through, when Dusk’s voice sounds on the other end with a soft “hello?” and he has to admit to the other woman that her son, his nephew, is currently in jail.
“What for?” Dusk’s voice pitches , something on the other end of the line rustling loudly and the breath that echoes through the speaker getting louder.
“Grand theft motorbike,” and he’s wincing as he says it, as he moves for the bar doors and pushes them open, just to get stuck holding them for a group of twenty-somethings as they come pouring in. The very idea hasn’t even settled in yet and he’s confused and lost as to how such a thing could happen. “He’s never said anything about an interest in bikes though?”
She’s moving too, on the other side of the line, he can tell. There’s shifting like a cell being tucked between cheek and shoulder and the faint jingling of keys. “Wasn’t he with Wild and the girls today?”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m so confused; he texted me an hour ago saying they were headed for dinner...”
He hears a door shutting on her side, hears the continued jingle of keys even as he watches the last of the party flooding through finally steps past him and leave him free to leave the bar at long last. Dusk’s voice is tinny from the other side, but he hears her just fine anyways, “it’s probably some sort of misunderstanding, but I’ll head over. Where are you?”
“The bar on central, the western one.”
Her car is starting in the background, even as she asks, “wait, are you on a date right now?”
“I was ,” the door falls shut behind him, leaving his hand free to drag through his hair, thoughts of Ilia still at the bar, no doubt as disappointed in him as he is with the situation, making him wince once more. “But-”
“I can get him,” she sounds sure, sounds oddly stern, “you don’t have to-”
“Our kid is in jail , Dusk, I ain’t sitin’ around with a cocktail an’ a pretty girl long as that’s still true.”
Silence on her end for a second, and then, “do you need a ride?”
“Huh?”
“You’re at a bar,” she reiterates, motor a soft rumble in the background, “with a pretty girl. I don’t imagine you went there to watch other people drink, Sutherland.”
Oh, that. Twilight pauses just in front of his truck, considering her words, before answering. “I had one beer, and barely that. Was kinda....” distracted, focused on his date, busy chatting and laughing enough that he’d forgotten he’d even ordered a drink, had spent most of the last hour or so just enjoying the cool glass in his hand, not daring to sip from it lest he end up snorting it all back up when Ilia made him laugh again and again.
Good grief, he feels like an ass for walking out on her, again , and he’s already dreading the possibility of seeing ‘we need to talk’ flash on his phone screen later; the all too common signal that he’s done this too many times.
Dusk’s voice cuts through his thoughts, engine starting in the background with a rattle, “you’re on my way there.”
“Okay.” He tucks his keys back in his pocket and walks around to settle against the truck-bed instead, running a hand over his face as he does so. “Saves the kid havin’ to choose who to ride with.”
“And who he’s scolded by,” comes her answer, huffed out and sharp.
That catches him off guard though. “Scolded?” Whatever for? “You don’t actually think he stole somethin’, do you?”
“I mean,” there’s a rattle and a huff of her breath, sharp against the mic, and then it’s gone and the sound is suddenly clearer, muffled only by car noise rather than breath and shifting, “he’s seventeen, dealing with a new co-parenting arrangement, and potentially depressed.”
“He’s a good kid though,” he reminds.
Something in her car clicks on the other side, “so was I, once. All kids act out though.”
“But stealin’ a bike?”
“You think he didn’t?”
He very much doubts it. “If he wanted to ride a motorbike, I feel like he’d ask Wild, or Four , not steal one. It ain’t like him.”
Silence, for a spell, and then her words sound again, more hesitant this time, “was Wild with him?”
Oh. Oh he didn’t... he didn’t think of that. Twilight blinks at the thought, dropping his hand as he parses through his thoughts. He’s not sure who’d be called if Wild was arrested, because the kid’s parents are still in Rito territory, and he’s not sure that Wild would trust Rhoam to handle things on his behalf.
“Twilight?”
“Lemme call you back,” he’s already moving to hang up, but holds off pressing the button till he explains. “I’m gonna see if I can get hold of him.”
“Alright.”
Trying, however, to call Wild, results in the call being denied, not once but twice , and then a text coming through: ‘ stuck w/ Fs dad ’, which he takes to mean that his bonus kid is with Rhoam at that very moment.
He knows how the older man is about letting either Flora or Wild use a phone when around him, something about it being rude (and sometimes it is, honestly), but hopefully, this time, an exception can be made.
‘Is Legend with you?’
A second, where there’s no sign, and then the tiny profile picture of the kid, holding that dumb singing fish he’d made for some reason, pops down to sit beside his message, and then the little ellipses are moving and-
‘ No? R called f dinner’ and then, a second after that ‘ he okay? ’
It’s... messy. Quick, like he’s texting under the table, and he probably is if, as reported, he’s stuck at dinner with Flora’s family. Any attempts though to convey what’s happening, to ask if Wild has his bike, go both unseen and unanswered. He’s still trying when a car pulls up behind his own, window rolling down to reveal Dusk in the driver’s seat and looking concerned, in her quiet, reserved way (the way Legend’s been too since he came home).
“You alright?”
“My kids in jail and Wild’s not with him,” he’s circling around to pull open her passenger door, sliding in and, immediately, feeling both out of place and almost too big for the car. It’s impossibly clean too, which is arguably more startling, even if it does make sense given who it belongs to.
Dusk waits exactly as long as it takes for him to close the door and reach for a seatbelt before she hits the gas and heads for the lot exit.
“Good news, it might be his bike.” He continues, not sure if he should look at her or the windshield, and a bit off-kilter at not being the one driving for once. “Bad news, he’s stuck in dinner with Rhoam and can’t tell me if he left Legend with it or no.”
Dusk’s hand flips the turn signal while she peeks out her window, waiting for a coming car to pass them before she peels out of the lot and onto the street. “Where does he live?”
“Huh?”
Violet flicker his way for just a second before returning to the road, brows pinching tight over the top of them. “If it’s his, and he left Legend with it, then showing proof of ownership might help resolve this fastest. If it’s not, we need him to tell us that. Either way, if we want to make this go away quickly, we need to talk to him, so,” she glances over again, frowning, almost stern and asks, “where does this ‘Rhoam’ live?”
-
It’s little surprise, to him anyways, that once they arrive at the Bosphoramus house, they’re immediately turned away at the door. It’s answered by a sheikah lady in a well-fitted suit, who declares in no uncertain terms that the entire family is currently at dinner with guests and will not be disturbed. Honestly, it’s what he expects, especially given the sharp side eye the woman casts his way when she sees him, but Dusk, for whatever reason, is entirely undeterred.
The diva just raises one brow, unimpressed, and declares, with not a bit of a tremor in her tone, haughty as all high heck, “this is a legal matter, ma’am, and unless your employer would prefer the far less subtle presence of the local police , I recommend you allow us to speak with Mr. Frostquill post-haste.”
“In regards to?” The woman asks, pausing in the door, still holding it half closed, and not opening it when Dusk steps closer to, but not closing it either.
“Theft,” the way she tilts her head, crossing her arms, it’s different, strange. He's seen these kinds of manners before when Midna used to drag him to fancy events, and he always hated watching woman treat people the way he’s currently watching his co-worker handle the door-lady, but this time he’s also slightly impressed.
Dusk acts like she belongs on the steps to this house or, better yet, inside , and looking and acting like you belong seem to make a world of difference, because the sheikah woman opens the door just slightly when she sees it, eyeing her warily, but not dismissive any longer. “And you are?”
“Representing the alleged thief.”
“What was stollen?”
“Nothing,” even though she’d acted like she’s doubted it before, but she says it sharp and crisp now. “However, Mister Frostquill’s bike may or may not have been involved and we need to speak to the young man on the matter. Now .”
He can see how much the suited lady doesn’t care for her tone, but still opens the door and motions them inside. She eyes him like one might trash, but turns on her heel to show them the way down the hall of the house all the same.
It’s only by focusing his attention on his companion that he avoids gawking at the whole of it. Honestly, who needs this much space? And what do they do with it all?
As the woman ducks into another room though, asking them to wait, he does manage to whisper, “you really are one heck of an actress.”
Dusk’s still holding that haughty expression as her eyes slide his way, and the cool tilt of the head back towards the door when he’s finished speaking makes him almost feel she’s angry at him now. Her words say otherwise though. “I grew up in a place like this. It’s not acting; it’s playing the game.”
O- kay .
Violet slip his way again after a spell, and the cool visage drops for a moment with a weak smile before she whispers, “just let me handle them, it’ll be faster.”
He can do that. Honestly, when it comes to these things, he’s shit at doing more than making a scene, and while sometimes that does help, he feels like that’s not the best approach this time. Especially given how many of the kids they work with will be involved now (not just Legend, but Wild and Flora too).
That said, he’s expecting, when they walk into the room and find the Bosphoramus family and Wild at dinner, that Dusk will be all clipped tones and sharpness, except they’re both caught off guard to see an older couple sitting there as well. Not that Dusk fumbles, she doesn’t, but there’s an odd catch in the first words as she asks to speak with Wild, again.
“Whatever for?” Rhoam is wiping at his mouth with a napkin and a slightly irritated expression, though not as much, he thinks, as if Twilight had been the one to interrupt him.
At the man’s side, Flora is blinking in confusion, before spluttering, “Miss Raine?”
The older couple stare .
Dusk is standing in front of him, so he can’t see her face, but the way she stiffens quite reminds him of how Legend does when he’s uncomfortable, spine straight and shoulders set, though Dusk’s voice betrays nothing as she motions to Wild, who’s darting up with muttered excuses to join them in the hall and away from heavy eyes and very attentive ears.
It’s not fast enough though, because the couple, the older one, is rising, almost at once, moving as though to speak as Dusk’s hand settles on his other kid’s shoulder and she moves to pull both of them through the door. He only just makes out “Dusky, wait!” before they’re moving and violet eyes catch his with a sharp look as the diva declares “Car. Now.”
The door lady is waiting for them at the exit, Wild’s blue jacket in hand like she’d expected him to dart out at the first chance, and the kid thanks her quickly as he grabs for it, moving towards the car even as they hear something going on down the hall from them, almost like they’re being followed.
It’s only once they’re in the car that he gets a chance to ask Wild what happened, to learn that Legend had keys and permission and thus, did not, it seems, steal anything . He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, as usual. Something Wild assures he can fix, as he keeps the ownership papers in his jacket pocket as a rule, and provided there’s not too much else involved, a flash of those should be enough to clear Legend’s name.
Not that Dusk seems at all assured by that, although it takes him a moment to notice. She’d been in a hurry before, but when she takes a corner far too fast and he hits the window because of it, well, that’s when he looks over and sees her gripping the wheel with white fingers and face all tense, twisted and breath far too harsh.
“Pull over,” he’s reaching for the wheel before he’s thinking, voice raising just slightly as instinct kicks in and demands he either get out or take over if he doesn’t want to end up in an accident. “I’ll drive.”
She doesn’t contest him. He doesn’t know what’s the matter with her, but knows better to ask with Wild in the backseat, so he just drives down the road towards the station, already promising, beneath his breath, that they’ll handle this. They will . Legend will be out in mere minutes and then they can go home.
And then he can call Ilia and beg her for forgiveness, again .
Notes:
Dusk is very much not okay, and neither is Twilight. Honestly, I think Fable might be the only sane family member here, although, let's be honest, she's also the only one who had a stable parent to guide her to be that way (Raven is the GOAT)
Also, since people might ask (or maybe not), YES, the older couple are very much Dusk's parents that she hasn't seen since she left home at eighteen, and that is very much the reason her brain is short circuiting right now. We've established she's not the best of drivers when distressed, and Twilight is, as all Ordonians must be, fantastic, so it's probably best she handed him the wheel.
Yes, these two will end up getting to talk more. I have a whole chapter planned for them where they have to address some shit of their own with another adult, rather than just help their mutual kid (who, btw, is probably struggling much less than anyone else in the story rn, and is just a bit scared).I hope you enjoyed! Please take care of yourselves, my luvs!!!
Mermain123 on Chapter 1 Mon 25 Aug 2025 05:18AM UTC
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Mermain123 on Chapter 2 Tue 26 Aug 2025 06:04AM UTC
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Its a crazy world aint it (burnedfeathers23) on Chapter 2 Tue 26 Aug 2025 09:54PM UTC
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Winnies_Bottle on Chapter 3 Wed 27 Aug 2025 08:24PM UTC
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Its a crazy world aint it (burnedfeathers23) on Chapter 3 Sat 30 Aug 2025 02:37AM UTC
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