Work Text:
Four sat alone at the edge of a sluggish river, its green-tinted waters drifting along silently, undisturbed except the subtle ripples of a passing fish. The morning quiet pressed in around him, an almost alien stillness after the chaotic nights with the rest of the Chain - still deep in sleep back at camp. Solitude like this was rare, and Four let it settle over him.
He moved his fingers, or tried to at least.
Searing tension tugged at the bandaged skin, the burns stiff and painful. Each attempt made him flinch, the wrappings cutting into him with the reminder that magical healing could only do so much.
He’d failed.
You were supposed to be the careful one, his thoughts snapped bitterly.
The smith removed the bandages to inspect the burns once again. After doing so, he turned his hands over, palms red and swollen, trembling with effort. The hot shame that rose in him felt new. It settled in his chest, as the memory of what happened flared up.
It hadn’t been the usual Dynalfos; black-blooded. They'd blundered into a nest of them, the monsters flaring with fire, every limb a threat. Time formed the formation, because they had been from his era, and Four fell into the usual rhythm of listen, learn and get ready.
Then everything twisted.
A couple Dynalfos loosed a blast - extremely well calculated, sharp and directly towards each group of heroes. Time raised his shield before Hyrule, Legend ducked tight against Warriors, and Twilight blocked the attack with his shield in front of Wild. Four mirrored them, shielding up, blocking both him and Wind from the fire. He lowered his shield and went into the next maneuver - but was caught off guard when one of the Dynalfos charged at them - or, no.
Its jaws angled for Wind, who’d stumbled in his maneuver, exposed and scrambling, shield trapped beneath a protruding tree root.
Four hadn’t paused.
He lunged, fingers closing over searing scales just in time, yanking the monster’s snout aside - just as it loosed a blast of flame once again.
The next thing he knew, he awoke sprawled out on the grass, Legend and Warriors next to him with first aid, Time pinning his shoulders, Wind weeping and rambling out apologies.
Now, he let the back of his knuckles brush the river’s edge, the chill water coaxing out some of the pain. It helped ground him, drawing some of the fire from his skin. Four lost himself in the repetition until suddenly, the world sharpened with awareness of someone else.
A gentle throat-clearing broke the quiet.
Four flinched, startled. For a moment, he’d forgotten Legend was there, sitting close enough that Four could hear the other’s soft exhale.
Legend’s gaze was fixed on the opposite side of the river, as if he’d given Four privacy during the silence but refused to leave. “You were a million miles away just now,” Legend said quietly.
Four blinked, forcing himself back to the present, and managed a rueful half-smile. “Just… thinking.”
The other boy hummed in response and didn't say anything else.
They watched the river together for a while. The sunlight flickered off the water in pale, wavering gold. Four’s bandaged hands stung with every passing second, but Legend didn’t mention them.
It helped more than Four expected.
Time approached only when the quiet felt like it was stretched too long.
A crunch of leaves let Four know that someone else was approaching. His steps were slow and careful. “Morning,” Time said softly.
Legend nodded in greeting, shifting back just enough to make room without going far. Four appreciated it. Legend being close made the world feel a little less sharp somehow.
Time lowered himself onto the stone beside them with deliberate calm. His eyes traveled to Four’s hands but didn’t linger in a way that made Four shrink back. It felt more like acknowledgment than concern.
“Do they still hurt?” Time asked, voice warm, not prying.
Four swallowed. “…Yeah.”
“Mm.” Time hummed thoughtfully, gaze still on the water. “They will, for a little while.”
The old man lifted up a small bag Four hadn't seen him carry before and dug out a small container. The tin clicked softly as he set it between them.
Four stared at it for a moment. He knew what it was before Time even opened it. A salve for burns. He’d brewed something like it a hundred times in his forge back home, long before he’d ever drawn a real sword.
Time unscrewed the lid, moving deliberately, giving Four every chance to pull away.
“It's a salve that alleviates pain and heals burns over time,” he said quietly. “Would you like for me to apply it to your hands?”
The river murmured beside them, the only sound Four could focus on as Time reached for his hands with slow, open palms. Legend shifted, trying to look casual as he picked at a blade of grass, but his knee pressed against Four’s leg in a way that said I’m here if you need me.
Four swallowed. His hands felt heavy in his lap. Useless. Ridiculous, really - he’d rebuilt entire sets of armor with fingers bloodied from hammering metal too long. He’d forged hinges finer than a spider’s thread, shaped steel until it yielded exactly the way he envisioned. These hands had always been his certainty, his language, his anchor.
And now they trembled.
Time’s touch hovered, never assuming, only asking permission. Four gave a tiny nod.
The salve was cool when it met his skin - icy at first, then seeping warmth into the angry welts beneath the bandages. Time spread it with gentle, practiced strokes. It startled Four how deftly the old hero moved, how he avoided every place that throbbed.
Four nearly pulled away when Time brushed a swollen knuckle, instinct flaring - a craftsman’s reflex to protect his tools, even when those tools failed him.
“I know it hurts,” Time said softly, his voice an anchor in the quiet. “But healing’s not just waiting for pain to fade. Sometimes it’s letting someone else help.”
A lump gathered in Four’s throat. He couldn’t answer yet. He only stared at the shape of his hands in Time’s, unsure if he wanted to snatch them back or just let himself be held. For the moment though, Four allowed the weight of Time's gentle but steady grip on his wrist to anchor him.
The longer he sat, the more the ache blurred. He swallowed, trying to loosen the lump in his throat, uncertain of what to say.
Legend shifted nearer, letting their shoulders brush, casual as always. “One day those hands will be making something beautiful again,” Legend said quietly, gaze fixed on the river.
Four wanted to believe it. For now, he settled for not pulling away. With Time’s measured care and Legend’s presence close beside him, the world seemed softer around the edges - something almost like hope stirring beneath the pain.