Clearing The Air

[sinnatious]

Title: Clearing the Air

Summary: Linked Universe, one-shot. Time and Legend are separated from the others and caught in a blizzard. This finally gives them the chance to discuss the question of timelines between them, and neither of them are happy about it.

Author’s Note: Big fat mess of a fic I’m posting just to have it out of my head. Plays incorrectly with the likely actual canon details of the start of the Fallen timeline, mysterious as they are, but the thought occurred when I was thinking about how it all could have happened, and how Legend would feel about that version.

And it’s winter here so I wrote a platonic blanket scenario as the background setting whoops.

Feels like the characterisation and pacing both got a little slippery at some point too so sorry about that. In retrospect I wish I’d flipped the POV but that realisation was 10k words too late. Really needs a lot more editing but eh hope someone enjoys it.

Like it or not, Time has experienced enough dimensional and time travel to know something has gone terribly wrong. There’s a tearing sensation, static rippling across his skin, a warbling song in his ears, then he’s falling, and falling, and falling, until he hits the soft ground with a bone-jarring thump.

It takes him a long moment to remember to breathe, to realise he can. He sucks in a greedy gasp, and it’s so cold it stings. He forces his good eye open, and is greeted with a grey, formless sky.

He’s lying in a snowbank. Snowflakes are whirling in the air – one lands on his cheek, melts into his skin.

There’s coughing somewhere off to his right, then the crunch of snow, and a familiar voice. “Guys? Traveller? Captain? Old Man?”

“Over here,” Time calls, pushing himself to sit up. He aches in the way that suggests he’s going to discover half a dozen bruises in the morning.

Legend tromps through to snow over to him as he gets to his feet. “I can’t see any sign of the others.”

Time looks. He can’t see much sign of anything. Just snow and sky. He’s not even sure what Hyrule they’re in. Not his, at least – even the highlands beyond Zora’s Domain don’t see this kind of snow. “Do you know where we are?”

“No clue. Not yours then?”

“No.” There’s not even anything they can use for a direction, no landmarks in sight. The only thing he knows for certain is that they’re up high enough for the air to be noticeably thin.

Worrying. This is the first time the portals have been anything less than perfectly stable. “Hopefully the others are together,” he muses. He and Legend had been last in.

“I think we’re gonna need to worry about ourselves first,” Legend grouses, arms crossed tightly over his chest, already shivering. Time tilts his head in acknowledgement. Legend is not dressed at all for the snow. Truth be told, neither is he – his armour might protect him from being run through by spears, but it conducts the cold tremendously well, greedily leeching whatever bit of warmth his body generates. He’ll have to remove it as soon as is practical, but underneath it he fares only a little better than the veteran hero. He has pants, at least, but his tunic, even with the padding of his gambeson, is designed to stop him overheating in plate, not for keeping any warmth in.

This is… not ideal. Wild would be best equipped for this, or in his absence Hyrule, or in his absence Twilight. It seems to be just he and Legend, however, so they’ll have to make do. At least it’s not the first time either of them have found themselves needing to survive in unfamiliar lands. He forever prays it will be the last, but as always, those prayers fall on deaf ears.

Legend seems to be thinking along the same lines. “You have much experience with the cold, Old Man?”

“Snowhead Mountain. Though I wasn’t usually there long enough for it to become an issue.” The cold had been miserable, but it had been eclipsed by far worse things, and he’d never been more than a day’s travel from somewhere warmer. The only thing he remembers truly worrying about was frostbite making it too hard to play his ocarina.

“Goron mountain, for me,” Legend grunts. “Though I had to deal with a lot of seasonal changes. The cold’s never bothered me much, but this kind of cold…” He sighs. “I doubt even the Rod of Seasons would do anything. Do you think this Hyrule even has seasons?”

“I’d rather not be stuck here long enough to find out.” He surveys the white landscape around them. The snow blankets everything, but if he focuses past the veil of falling flakes, there’s a rising shadow that might be a cliff to their left. A cliff might mean caves, or at least some protection from the wind. And they need that desperately fast – if he’s not mistaken, there’s a blizzard approaching, and being out in that in these unfamiliar mountains may very well be a death sentence.

“This weather,” Legend states. He’s noticed too.

Time nods. “We need shelter for the duration. Let’s try that way. And keep your eye out for anything we can use as firewood on the way.”

“Right, right.” Legend digs through his bag for a moment, before withdrawing a ring and sliding it onto his finger. At Time’s look, he explains, “Snowshoe Ring. It’s meant for ice, but makes walking on snow a little easier too.”

Fortunate. The snow here goes almost to his knees. Legend’s given him an idea though - he opens his satchel and withdraws his Hover Boots. He’ll have to walk carefully – they won’t provide any traction – but it will be far better than potholing his way through. He pulls them on and takes a few test steps. It seems they work on snow about as well as they do on sand. “I don’t suppose you have any rings that provide warmth?” he suggests with a wry smile. He already knows the answer.

“Tch. I’ll be looking for one after this, that’s for sure,” Legend grumbles, but pulls a white cape out of his satchel and settles it around his shoulders, then follows up with a lantern. “This will have to do for now. It runs on magic, but if I put a bit extra in, it gives off a fair bit of heat, too. Stop my hands freezing, at least.” He gives it a shake, and the flame within bursts to life. “Should have got my Fire Rod back off the captain,” he mutters.

“And the cape?” Time asks.

“Roc’s cape. Enchanted to help me jump long distances, but right now it’s just another layer of fabric between me and the elements.” He tugs it tighter around his shoulders. “What about you? You gonna be alright, Old Man?”

“For now,” he admits. He has Din’s Fire, but his control isn’t such that he can maintain a steady flame with it.

It seems this is as good as they can get with what they have on hand – which means they can’t delay. The wind is already picking up. And this isn’t the sort of cold where movement alone can keep them warm. They head towards what Time hopes are cliffs, veering off course only to inspect any irregularities in the landscape, and usually only gathering a handful of twigs for the effort. It doesn’t happen often – there’s not much of anything up here.

As the snow falls faster, they arrive at what is, thankfully, cliffs, and begin to skirt them in search of a cave. Just when Time is beginning to despair that they’re out of luck, they find one. It doesn’t go very deep, but it’s tall enough to comfortably stand in, and best of all, there’s no sign of bears or lizalfos or other creatures nesting inside.

Legend dumps his collection of twigs on the floor of the cave, then says, “I saw what might be a tree just beyond here. Going to see if I can cut it down.” Then he’s back out in the wind before Time can protest.

Not that he should protest – with his lantern and cape, Legend’s doing better than him right now. Time needs to get the armour off, but his fingers shake as he fumbles to undo the clasps. His plate clatters noisily to the cave floor, but he can’t spare the energy to be careful, not like this.

By the time he’s shed both his plate and chain mail, Legend trudges back into the cave, dragging a small tree a little shorter than him behind him. It’s thin and coated in ice, but they’re lucky to even have that – they’re evidently too high up for much foliage to grow. Time joins him in breaking it up, and in the end they have a handful of branches and twigs, with the trunk making four rather small logs.

“We’ll need stones,” Time observes. The wind outside is beginning to howl, and they can’t risk going out searching once visibility drops. But they don’t have nearly enough wood to keep the fire burning long, either – rocks will hold the heat at least a while. Luckily, there’s some appropriately sized stones around the mouth of the cave, so they don’t need to venture far.

That done, they look over what they’ve gathered. They both know without talking that it’s not enough, and lay out their inventory in silence.

Time surveys his supply of arrows grimly – a round dozen. Solemnly, he takes all but three, and adds them to the paltry pile of wood they’ve managed to gather. Legend places a red seed on the ground, then a green potion. Time places his own green potion, along with a red, next to it.

“Well,” Legend says eventually. “I guess we just have to hope this blizzard doesn’t last too long.”

It goes without saying that they’ll have to move on the instant it’s safe to. They don’t know the lay of this land, but heading downhill is a safe bet to reach warmer ground. This mountain is bleak. They can melt fresh snow for water, but Wild has all the food, so they’ll have to hunt game if they want to eat. And that’s assuming there even is game to hunt. He’s not yet seen any sign of wildlife – no wolves, no hawks, none of the usual animals he would expect to find on a snowy mountain. He can only hope they’re also sheltering from the weather, and it’s not that this place is too inhospitable for them.

They arrange the firewood, setting aside some to feed in at intervals, to keep it alive as long as they can. Legend cracks open the red seed, there’s a burst of warmth, and they have a small but merry blaze going in moments. Time warms his hands by it for a few minutes until they’re less stiff, then grabs his shield and uses it to pack some snow around the entrance, narrowing the gap, anything to trap the heat of the fire in a little longer, to keep as much of the wind out as they can.

Soon, though, there’s nothing left to do but wait.

Time goes and sits as close as he can to the fire. Legend has done the same across from him, un-gloved hands resting on his knees but turned to the flames. The silence stretches, and eventually grows awkward. Legend’s staring at him, and Time carefully pretends he doesn’t notice.

He and Legend have never quite clicked. Not in the same way he’s managed with almost everyone else. It would make sense if the snarky veteran pushed back against his authority, ignored his orders, went his own way. But aside from the odd pointed comment, he doesn’t argue, and follows along easily enough. He doesn’t even seem unhappy doing it, yet somehow, resentment seeps from his every pore whenever it comes to the two of them.

Time’s always let it be. So long as it doesn’t cause problems, he can hardly force the Hero of Legend to get along with him. He’s close with Hyrule, and though he tries to hide it he dotes on Wind the worst out of the lot of them, and the rest of them seem to have accepted that picking fights and snarky quips is his own bizarre form of friendship. So long as Legend has a place in the group, it’s fine that it doesn’t seem to involve him.

Unfortunately, it does make things strangely tense now. This is already the longest the two have ever spent alone in each other’s company – normally by now Legend would have made some excuse to be elsewhere, or Time would have saved him the trouble by finding something else to do first.

It’s an opportunity, he thinks, to clear the air between them, to confront whatever it is about him that bothers Legend so. But they’re effectively trapped here for the duration, and Time doesn’t wish to confront the veteran hero when he can’t escape. That would be cruel and unnecessary. If he thought Legend needed it, he would do it, but whatever the issue, it’s not one that affects anyone other than Time, so he’s going to let that sleeping dragon lie.

Then the sleeping dragon rouses all on its own. “It really doesn’t faze you, does it?” Legend asks. “That we might die here of the cold?”

Time blinks. He hadn’t expected Legend to be the one to break the silence. “I don’t believe we will. Between the two of us, we have enough experience to get through this.”

“Experience. Hah. You know as well as I do that experience isn’t the difference. Otherwise our vaunted Chosen Hero wouldn’t be able to lick us all in a spar.”

“Call it what you want, then, but this blizzard won’t be the death of us.” It’s a false bravado – Time is acutely aware that for this situation, in an unfamiliar land, he has no songs that will help, nothing to spirit them away to safety. And he’s learned the hard way that he can’t rewind time any further than the portal which dropped them here. He doesn’t even have any masks that will help – at least, none that will allow him to help Legend as well.

“Something will be, though. Eventually. Who’s to say this isn’t it, huh? What does it take to kill one of us?”

“That’s a rather morbid line of thought, especially given our cook’s history,” Time remarks mildly. He’s not altogether sure where this is coming from, but he never expected such fatalism from the Hero of Legend. He’s always seemed remarkably unaffected by his many adventures.

“You mean to say you’ve never thought about it?”

“I try not to. Life has delivered me enough near misses without imagining more.”

“What kind of near misses?” Legend asks, with such intent that Time finally tears his gaze away from the fire to assess the other hero properly.

“What is this about? This isn’t just a hypothetical question, I think.” If Legend wants to beat around the bushes, then Time will burn the bushes to nothing, so there’s nowhere to hide.

For a moment, he thinks he’s put Legend off whatever question he’s trying to pose, but, like all of them, he proves not at all lacking in courage. “Like when you fought Ganon, specifically.”

Puzzled, Time casts his mind back to the battle. It had been ferocious, and hard, but he can’t see what Legend is after by asking about it. “I’m not sure what you hope to get from it. The battle was difficult, and I could have died any number of times. But that’s true for any of us, in any battle we fight. Especially against him.”

Legend makes a noise of frustration. “Just satisfy my curiosity, won’t you? I’ve been trying to figure it out for months.”

“Figure what out?” Time asks patiently.

“Why in my timeline, you died, but in yours, you lived. What was the difference?”

Time goes still. His mouth is suddenly dry. “What?”

Legend shifts uncomfortably, inching closer to the fire. It’s getting low – they’ll have to feed it more wood soon. “You seriously haven’t figured it out? I know we’ve all talked about it before. The timeline split.”

They have, though Time had sat out most of the discussion. He’d quickly realised that Wind comes from the timeline he left behind when Zelda had returned him to his childhood self – Outset Island has legends that sound remarkably like Time’s adventure, the one that everyone in his timeline is blissfully unaware of. And he knows that Legend and Hyrule belong to a third, and that Warriors’ mess with Cia had likely played a role in reunifying them down the line. But how is their timeline related to him? “I’m afraid I don’t follow.” There’s a pressure building in the back of his head. He stubbornly ignores it, the cold forgotten as he focuses his full attention on the hero across from him.

“I talked to the kid a bit about it. The very start of the story is the same. But in my world, the hero falls to Ganon, so Ganon gets all three pieces of the Triforce. The Sacred Realm gets corrupted into the Dark Realm when the seven Sages seal him into it in desperation.” His stare is bright and sharp, like steel trying to cut straight into his thoughts. “That was you, wasn’t it? I’m not wrong. You’ve mentioned some of the Legendary Sages by name, before. Like you know them personally. It can’t be a coincidence.”

Something cracks, a fissure in the back of his skull. “I don’t- how-”

Legend glances away. “I just- I see your Hyrule, and the farm boy’s Hyrule. And it’s so nice. It never bothered me beforehand. But now that I’ve seen it, I can’t help but wonder, and since we’re stuck here anyway I figure there’s no better time to- hey, Old Man? Old Man?!”

Time is suddenly spinning, driftwood tossed into rapids. His breath is coming too short, too fast, his gaze fixed to a point in space, sudden clarity filling in the gaps, the memories coming in a rush. Some part of him feebly tries to hold them back, before they can drown him, but it’s fingers against a flood.

He blinks again, and Legend is in front of him. Shaking him, shouting.

Time pushes his hands away, lurches to his feet, walks into the corner of the cave, and is promptly sick.

“Old Man?” Legend is still fretting behind him. “You don’t have to answer, okay? It’s just curiosity. I’ve lived this long without knowing, it doesn’t change anything.”

“No, I- remembered,” he croaks, wiping his mouth. He’ll regret that later, throwing up what little food was left in his stomach when there’s no easy way to get more, but the nausea grips his throat even now. Legend hands him a waterskin, which he gratefully takes, though only risks a few small sips. The water is icy cold, despite resting near the fire. That reminds him. “The fire.” Unattended, it’s begun to flicker dangerously low. How long was he out of it for?

Legend swears and dashes back to it, carefully feeding it another arrow. Time takes a moment to catch his breath, staring into the darkness of the back of the cave, gathering himself for what comes next.

He'd worried that Legend was the one trapped. It’s not. It’s him.

Just thinking about it hurts. It’s the same pain he gets when he thinks too hard about the Song of Storms, or his time in the Sacred Realm. The latter makes a good deal more sense to him now.

The cold is creeping in again, and he doesn’t even realise until Legend is by his side again, tugging on his arm. “Dammit, Old Man, you’re shivering. Get back to the fire. Come on.” Times goes, poked and prodded, until Legend pushes him back to where he’d been sitting before. He hovers for a moment, only retaking his own seat once Time leans forward and the shaking starts to subside. “You with me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, your words brought back… something I didn’t realise I’d forgotten.” He closes his eye. This here, suddenly, the mystery of the third timeline is solved. And he wishes he could go back to ignorance. “It was me, who failed. And all this time I didn’t know.”

Legend is staring now. “Wait, now I’m the one who is confused.”

“It was me. The hero who died in your timeline. The Goddess of Time intervened. Collected my body and sent me back, to be revived.”

Legend looks about as shaken as Time feels. “Wait, but… if you actually died, then how-”

He chuckles. It comes out bitter, and he bites it back. “Our favourite cook was brought back from the dead with a Sheikah relic, is it so surprising that the Goddesses themselves could do it if they so wished?” There’s a foul taste in his mouth. He takes another sip of water to banish it, but it does nothing. “For whatever reason, it seems beyond their limits to intervene in the timeline directly, otherwise why even allow Ganon to be born in the first place? However, that power, wielded upon an agent of change? That’s a different matter.” None of the time travel he’d ever done had resulted in a branch. By this count, both branches were created directly through others irresponsibly yanking him through time.

“But then-”

“But then the Sages decided that this time, they’d wait for me to grow older, to improve my chances against Ganon.” He shakes his head ruefully. “I can’t believe none of them told me. Not a one.” Had they known? They must have, to have made the decision to trap him in the Sacred Realm in the first place. Rauru and Zelda, at the very minimum.

He doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge. Wishes he’d never considered it.

They told him it was because he was too young to wield the Master Sword, and he’s never questioned it. They were right, of course, but the Master Sword had accepted him. If the sword had truly believed him too young it would have stayed in its pedestal. It had been the Sages’ intervention, not the sword. He can’t believe he never realised it.

“So there you have it. That’s the difference - the thing that spared the Hero of Wind’s Hyrule, and doomed yours, is that the Sages locked me in the Sacred Realm for seven years. Told me that it was because I was too young to wield the Master Sword, and let Ganondorf run rampant until they were finally satisfied I was old enough.” Legend is watching him with saucer-wide eyes, but Time pushes on recklessly. If he doesn’t say it now, the words might be locked in his throat forever. “I thought all of that happened the instant I drew the sword. But it seems the truth is, once I drew the sword, I pursued Ganondorf with it.” A child, thinking the sword made him powerful. As much as a fool Warriors had been, once upon a time. “He’d been chasing Zelda, you see. And I lost. Terribly.”

These are memories he could have happily lived without, but are now burned into his thoughts. He can’t believe he ever forgot. Or perhaps it had been the Goddess, seeing it a mercy, sealing the memories away.

Had Navi known?

No, he can’t believe that. He needs to believe she’d been in the dark as much as him. He doesn’t think he can accept any other reality.

“They thought you were too young to wield the sword, and that was why you lost,” Legend says slowly. “Then how old were you?”

Time turns his face away. “It’s not important.”

“Old Man,” Legend repeats. “You owe me this. How old were you? The first time?”

He hesitates. Considers lying. But for all that Four is likely the smartest among them, Legend comes a close second. He’ll notice any flaws in his story, and won’t let it rest.

“I was nine.”

Legend swears. Stands up. Stalks away, walking in tight, furious circles. There’s not much space in the cave, but he makes do.

“Shit. Shit. Old Man, you’re as bad as that crazy cook. Every time I learn something new about you, I wish I didn’t.” He kicks at a rock, sending it skittering wildly across the ground. “Damn all of this bullshit. I thought I was pissed off, getting sent on endless quests since I was a teenager. At least I always had a chance. At least it wasn’t impossible.”

Time stays silent. Feeds another arrow into the fire. They only have three more, plus one more log. The blizzard is only growing stronger outside.

“A nine-year-old against Ganon. Goddesses damned. What the hell were they thinking? No wonder. No wonder you…” He chokes on the word.

It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve encountered it. Wild, after all, underwent far worse, and without divine intervention, without Sages to smooth the way. It feels unfair, truth be told, that the Goddess of Time hadn’t intervened on his behalf. Maybe they’d finally forsaken Hyrule. Or, more likely, sat back once it seemed they had it handled themselves. Never mind a lost hundred years. That was nothing to Hylia.

Never mind a lost seven.

“The nerve of it,” Legend seethes. “Screw destiny. Screw anyone who thinks it’s okay to send a kid out to fight like that.”

“As far as I understand it, our sailor wasn’t that much older,” Time points out. “And the Hero of Hyrule was only around twelve, wasn’t he?”

“At least we were all in the Goddess-damned double digits. Don’t sit here and pretend to me that there’s not a world of difference between a twelve-year old and a nine-year old.”

Time doesn’t try to explain that in truth, he had been nine when he defeated Ganon. It had only been his body that had been older. The strength, the reach, the magic he had as a 16-year-old had been the only real difference in the end. Being able to hold the Mirror Shield, instead of cowering under his Hylian shield like a turtle. That, and the few months experience he’d gained as he travelled to awaken the sages.

Something tells him that will only make Legend angrier. “The need was great,” he admits, simply. “That was the case for you as well, wasn’t it?”

Legend finally sits back down at that. Pulls his cape tighter around himself, huddling close to the fire, muttering angrily under his breath.

Time is still nauseous. He takes another sip from the waterskin and suppresses a shiver at the cold. Glances outside. It’s dark out, but impossible to tell if that’s just from the blizzard or if night has fallen. He knows the cave is a good deal warmer than the outside, but it hardly feels it. Even the rock beyond the glow of the fire is painfully cold to the touch.

He can only hope the others are somewhere more hospitable, and not trapped in this blizzard like them. But even if they are, so long as they’re together he’s certain they’ll be fine.

As the fire runs low, and they feed their last log into it, Time can no longer say the same for them.

That fresh memory of failure has shaken his confidence. Termina has had years to fade in his thoughts, years to heal. But even though this is older, even though this goes right back to his first encounter with the ephemeral and malleable nature of time, this wound is fresh and raw. He can’t stop replaying the memory in his head. A foolish child, in so far over his head he didn’t even realise how out of his depth he was. Navi’s anguished screams. Ganondorf’s triumphant smirk.

He shivers, and it has nothing to do with the cold.

“Are you alright?” Legend asks. He noticed it, then. “You look awful.”

“I’ll be fine,” Time says, even if he doesn’t quite believe it right now.

Legend just grunts at that. Time is off his game, and evidently the Hero of Legend can see through him as a result. “Ugh. This reminds me of when I was, what, probably eleven or something? And my uncle got sick. Like really sick, couldn’t get out of bed. It was just a bad fever in the end, but it was the first time I’d seen him laid low.” He huffs to himself. “It was a real shock, seeing someone I’d always viewed as soon strong so, I don’t know. Vulnerable.”

“And your uncle now?” Time asks.

“…Dead, when I was sixteen. Gave me his sword and shield and told me to go save Zelda with his dying breath. Haven’t stopped since.”

Time recognises the olive branch for what it is – Legend sharing a fragile moment of his own past in compensation for digging up one of Time’s. “I’m sorry,” he offers.

“Not your fault,” he grunts.

“Not what I meant.”

“No. I mean, I did, you know. Blame you.” It takes all of Time’s stoicism not to flinch, but maybe he does anyway, because Legend hurries to say, “Even though I knew it was really all because of an ugly pig, for the longest time – until today, even - I still resented the hell out of the poor idiot of a hero who died and left Hyrule such a mess. All I wanted to know was how it happened, I never…” He takes a deep breath. “I never thought the damned Goddesses had sent a nine-year-old to fight that monster.”

“If I’d-”

“Don’t you dare,” Legend hisses. “Don’t you dare even think of apologising to me for it. The only apology I’ll accept now is from the Goddess herself. Or hell, the Master Sword will do.” He chews on that for a moment. “Damn, I’m going to tell our Chosen Hero off the next time he gets on your case about that sword. That makes a lot of sense now.”

As nice as it is having Legend sticking up for him for a change, even in the hypothetical, Time can already envision Sky’s reaction. “He’s entitled to his views, even if we don’t agree. His experience is different to ours.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” Legend runs a hand through his hair, then pulls his cap forward, to cover his ears. “Ugh. I regret asking now. It was so much easier to be angry at some idiot version of you who’d, I dunno, tripped over a flying tile and fell into some spikes while fighting Ganon or something.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Time tries to keep his tone light, to summon a smile, but it falls short.

Legend just shakes his head. “I don’t get it, Old Man. How do you not become bitter, after all that?”

Time stares into the dwindling flames. “What makes you think I’m not?”

Legend has nothing to say to that. The silence stretches between them, heavy with knowledge.

The fire flickers, and dies, though the coals continue glowing. The rocks stacked among the ashes will hold their heat for some time, and the cave will keep some of the ambient warmth for a while, but the blizzard rages on outside.

Neither of them acknowledge it – Legend simply gets up from his spot on the other side of the fire and walks over, plopping down next to him and pressing up against his side, even going so far as to shamelessly lift his arm and tuck it around his shoulders like a blanket. Then he does talk. “Damn it, Old Man, you’re freezing.”

“Bad circulation in my old age,” Time says serenely.

“Shut up, I know we give you shit but you can’t be that old.” He picks up his lantern and holds it between them. It lights up, the magic flame a faint source of radiant heat. A fraction of the warmth of the fire but another thing to stave off the shivers for a little longer. “Make sure you move your toes, since your circulation is apparently so useless.”

It’s a good reminder, and Time does, flexing his feet within his boots carefully. It seems inevitable that they’ll need to resort to a red potion at some point in this, but he’d rather use it once they’re off the mountain, rather than needing to use it just to get walking again in the first place.

“And don’t fall asleep,” Legend mutters. “No matter what.”

It’s not the sleeping specifically that’s an issue, but Time recognises the risk – asleep, they can’t keep the lantern active, and then they really will be in trouble. This, at least, Time does have a mask for. It’s not necessary yet, but he fetches the All Night Mask from his bag while his thoughts are clear, and sets it down next to him carefully.

“What’s that ugly thing for?” Legend mumbles, even as he squirms closer. His breath comes in puffs of mist for every word, even with the lantern active.

“For staying awake, no matter what.”

“Why do you- actually, you know what, never mind. I don’t want to know. I’ve learned my lesson. Questions around you just give me anxiety. No wonder the farm boy worries about you so much.”

Time hums to himself. The cave is too quiet for his liking – with the fire gone, and the lantern a poor substitute, there’s nothing to listen to but their sound of their breath and the whistle and howl of the blizzard outside. And it’s dark, too, with the lantern the only source of light, and held so close to them it does little to illuminate the cave.

“My Hyrule isn’t so nice as you believe, you know,” Time offers, partly because it needs to be said and partly to help keep him alert. “It’s peaceful now, but I was born at the end of a long civil war that nearly toppled the royal family. There’s only been some twenty to thirty years of peace. Plenty of darkness stills dwells in its corners.”

“Huh.” Legend shifts. “Really? I didn’t see any evidence of that.”

“It’s there, if you know where to look. Perhaps most obvious if you go to the desert. Relations aren’t exactly cordial with the Gerudo.” He’s never re-earned the exception he gained in Wind’s timeline. To the Gerudo, he’s just another suspicious Hylian male, to be kept out at all costs.

“Goes to show, I guess.” Legend shifts again, trying to find a comfortable position to hold the lantern between them. “…And I make it sound bad, but there’s actually a lot of parts of my Hyrule that are pretty nice.” His tone turns muted. “Nicer than the Hero of Hyrule’s, at least.”

“I hope, after your impassioned speech about me not apologising for my failures, that you’re not doing the same to the Link who came after you,” Time says.

“You’ve seen it, though, right? There’s pleasant parts, sure, but-”

“It’s pointless,” Time interrupts. “There’s so many centuries between each of our lives that the land changes in ways we have so little to do with. Rivers shift, mountains rise and fall, forests flourish and wither and die. Some lands are ravaged by drought, others by floods, others by petty wars.”

Legend huffs. “So long as you apply that to yourself as well, then.”

Time shrugs his other shoulder, jostling the smaller hero with the movement. He’s aware that the seal of the Seven Sages fails with time, in Wind’s Hyrule, and that Ganon’s banishment won’t hold forever in his, either. Magic wrought by mortals tends to fade over centuries, and more, tends to be susceptible to mortal actors who seek to undo it, and there’s little any of them can do about that, when even their most powerful measures are not enough. He might feel worse about it if it weren’t such a common tale among all of them. “Don’t forget, our talented traveller loves his Hyrule as much as the rest of us love ours. He might not take kindly to hearing your opinion on it.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Legend says with a scowl, and follows up with a shiver. He raises the lantern and concentrates on it, and the glow gets a fraction brighter.

The cold ground is leeching valuable warmth, in much the same way his armour had. Time eyes Legend speculatively. He’s being careful to keep his bare legs from the bare rock, folding them up under his cape, but his tunic, however finely made, can’t be much insulation.

He wouldn’t have dared, before, but he thinks he can get away with it now. The distance between them has shrunk with their mutual confessions.

Besides, it’s too cold. Whatever pride they have is left outside in the roaring winds. So Time scoops the smaller hero up and pulls him into his lap, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“The hell?” Legend squawks. “I’m not a kid, Old Man! Let me go!”

“The ground is cold,” Time replies.

“Yeah, you might have noticed, everything’s cold.”

“Less heat loss between the two of us,” he points out, and Legend sighs, finally stopping his struggles, sinking back against his chest.

“What about you, though?” he asks mulishly.

“Don’t think I’d fit in your lap,” Time remarks. “Though if you want to try-”

“Augh! You’re awful. Remind me again why we made you leader?”

“I don’t believe there was ever a discussion about it,” Time admits. “I certainly didn’t realise I had the role, until we were in that first village, and the mayor asked who the leader was and every single one of you looked at me.”

“Because nothing ever seems to faze you. Today was the first time I’d even seen a crack in your composure, you know. And you’re back to normal already.”

“I’m not,” Time murmurs. “But you would know. When your uncle died, was there time for grieving? Could you afford to fall to apart?”

Legend grunts softly at that. “So what, we’re all supposed to just bottle it up forever?”

“Not forever. Just… always later.”

“I’ll let you know when later finally comes,” Legend scoffs. Time can’t disagree. He, at least, had some few precious years with Malon, years to recover and process. The rest of them are what, all of a year, sometimes less, out from the end of their latest battle? It seems barely long enough for the physical wounds to heal, much less the mental ones.

He misses Malon terribly, times like these. Wonders how long he’ll be forced away from home this time.

Legend shifts again, leaning forward and unhooking his cape. “Let me take my cape off, then, if we’re doing this. We can use it as a blanket.” Time leans back as Legend removes the cape, then settles back down, laying it across their legs then pulling it up to his chest, leaving one arm free to hold the lantern. It’s not nearly big enough for both of them – nor is it particularly warm – but every bit helps.

“Cozy,” he remarks, hugging the smaller hero close.

“It was your idea!” Legend complains. “I’m just being practical.”

“It’s like having my very own hero teddy bear,” Time adds, then coughs as Legend elbows him violently in the ribs.

“Oops,” he says innocently.

It was worth it. But it turns out the Hero of Legend’s elbows are terribly pointy, so he leaves the teasing at that.

For lack of anything else to do, he starts to hum Saria’s Song. Thinking of her though makes him think of the sages, makes him think of everything else, so the notes die in his throat. He tries the Bolero of Fire for a minute, imagining the temple’s warmth, but his thoughts skip to Sheik, to Zelda and his mind is desperate to shy away from the harsh reality of newly awakened memories.

In the end, he hums the Song of Healing. Without magic infused, it’s little more than a pleasant tune, but it’s soothing. The song has never been a cure-all, but it helps. More than once, in a desperate moment when he found himself alone again after Termina, he would play it until his breath grew thin and his fingers ached, just for the short-term peace it provided. There’s a magic in music, even when he can’t afford to spend his actual magic on it.

“It’s a nice tune,” Legend mutters sleepily after a while. “Where did you learn it?”

“From a travelling salesman.” He jostles the smaller hero. “If you are going to sleep, hand over the lantern first.”

“No, I’m fine.” He rubs a hand across his face, then tucks it back under the cape, leaving the one holding the lantern upright on his lap. “You’re just surprisingly comfortable, Old Man.”

“I wish you had gloves,” Time murmurs. “And pants, for that matter.”

“You and me both. I wish you had a hat, while we’re at it.”

“Perhaps we should take a page out of the Captain’s book, get ourselves some nice scarves after this.”

“Hell no,” Legend sputters. “He’d think we’re copying him! He does not need an ego boost.”

Time chuckles. They sit quietly for a moment, then he comments, “I could go for one of our cook’s soups, right now. With goron spice.”

“Even now, that’s too damn spicy. You’re crazy Old Man. You and Traveller eat literally anything put in front of you, it’s criminal. Now, his clam chowder, that I could go for.”

“His chowder is very good,” Time agrees. “I’d get the recipe from him if it wasn’t such a long ride from Lake Hylia to the Ranch.”

They talk idly, back and forth, switching randomly between similarly safe and mundane topics, the pauses slowly growing longer between sentences. Under other circumstances, Time might appreciate it, the chance to bond with the newly discovered third of his successors, but it’s hard to focus on much of anything past the encroaching, pervasive cold.

When Legend finally reaches for the green potion, Time takes the lantern from his hands. “My turn,” he says. Carefully, he feeds a thread of magic into it, and it flares dangerously. They recoil, but Time squeezes his magic even lower, less than what he would use even with a song. Soon, the flame is back to normal, radiating warmth once again, a little brighter than what Legend had it.

“Tch, you’ll be dry in no time pouring that much in, Old Man,” Legend remarks.

“I’m afraid my control isn’t as fine as yours,” he replies. “But I can keep this rate up for a couple of hours.”

“You really are an old man with that much magic at your disposal. Should we start calling you a Sage instead?”

“I think I’m a good deal less fond of that title than I might have once been.” He regrets the words slipping out when Legend cringes. He’s usually more careful about hiding his opinion on such things. But, as he said… he’s not fine yet, not truly. It’s only for Legend’s sake, only due to the circumstances, that he’s holding it together at all. “You mentioned a Rod of Seasons, before. Tell me about that.”

Magical artefacts are one of the few topics, right up there with ribbing Warriors, that Legend will happily carry almost entirely on his own, all too keen to show off his experience and knowledge. He takes the invitation, detailing the Rod’s abilities, its lore, its powers, then theories on how it worked, and how an accomplished Sage or Elder or Sorcerer might be able to recreate it. From there, he somehow skips onto wizzrobes, then to his Fire Rod, then to his lantern, then to his Snowshoe Ring. Time nods along, asking the occasional question or making sounds of agreement. It is interesting, but a good portion of his attention is focused on keeping the trickle of magic to their one source of heat steady. The combination is enough to keep him distracted.

Eventually, though, Legend’s words drop off, his head nodding. They’re both exhausted – it had been afternoon when they’d entered the portal in the first place, and regardless of the time of day in this Hyrule it’s effectively the early hours of the morning for them, and Legend has run his magic low. So Time stays silent as his head drops against his shoulder, and his breathing evens, then tucks the cape around him. He’ll need the rest for when the blizzard finally abates.

The silence is all the worse now, though, without even the pretence of conversation to keep his thoughts in the present.

The long silence stretches, minutes into hours. He can feel the exhaustion creeping up on him as well. It’s been a rough day, in more ways than one.

He eyes the All Night Mask with resignation. The wide red eyes, framed with black caging, stare soullessly back at him. Carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping Hero of Legend, he reaches for one of the green potions. Drinks half, then takes a few sips of the red potion, then a healthy swig of his waterskin, even as the cold of the half-frozen water makes him shudder. Then, and only then, does he reach for the All Night Mask and fasten it to his face.

He sits there for another two hours, with Legend cradled tightly in his arms, the lantern glowing in his grasp, a small island of warmth and light in the cold darkness. With nothing but his memories, and the slow, quiet draw of Legend’s breath, to keep him company.

He is decades old, but there, in that cave, he’s nine again, holding a sword too large for him, a shield useless on his back, as he gasps his last to a background of blood and fire and Navi’s desperate pleading.

……………….

The sliver of sky visible outside the cave begins to lighten right as Time’s magic runs low again.

He reluctantly shakes his sleeping companion to rouse him. Legend grunts unhappily, half-turning and burrowing against his chest, but Time shakes him again, more insistently, and he finally wakes, at which point he almost leaps to his feet. “What the hell? Old Man, what did I say about sleeping?!”

“So long as one of us remained awake, there wasn’t any danger,” Time replies. Legend tilts his head up at that, attention no doubt caught by how his words are stifled by the mask’s restraints, and flinches at the sight.

It’s not his most beautiful mask, Time is aware, so he tries not to take the reaction personally. He’s had worse.

“So then you were awake, alone, for… how long?”

“Only a few hours,” Time replies.

“That’s not any better, Old Man!”

Time just points outside. Legend follows his finger and blinks, scrambling to his feet, his cape dropping to the ground. The loss of warmth hits Time keenly.

“The blizzard’s died down then?” The howling winds have dropped to intermittent gusts, and the snowfall thinned significantly.

Time nods, and presses the potions and the lantern into Legend’s hands. “Once you’re ready to go, we should head out.” The passage of time has been their enemy from the start. Now that visibility is good enough to proceed and the deadliest cold has passed, they need to get to warmer climes as quickly as possible. Magic is all that’s kept them alive thus far, and they’re quickly running out. “Remember to drink some water.”

Legend takes his waterskin, nose wrinkling. “Urgh, it’s frozen solid.” He hangs it on the lantern while he drinks the other half of the green potion and sets about stowing the rest of their meagre supplies. Time bundles his armour and ties it to his shield, so he can carry it on his back. He then turns his attention to the entrance. The snow has packed high, and they’ll need to clear it to get out, but the prospect of spending precious time and energy digging their way out is unappealing.

He considers the reserves of magic he has left. They still have one bottle of green potion, but Time won’t be drinking it, so he only has enough left for a couple of songs, and perhaps one or two blasts of Din’s Fire.

It’s worth it, he decides. “Stand in the very back of the cave,” he instructs Legend, who must still be tired because he does so without asking why.

He flexes his hand, letting the gathered magic linger there a moment longer than normal, before slamming his fist to the ground. Heat and flame burst from it in a flare, surrounding him in a blast of intense fire. The snow explodes in a cloud of steam.

For one blissful moment he knows warmth again, but it passes swiftly, leaving only a carved, quickly icing path out of the cave mouth.

Legend lets out a shaky whistle. “Not bad Old Man. Didn’t even need an item for it.”

“Use the lantern as you need,” Time advises.

“What about you?” Legend asks.

He holds up his hands, wiggling his fingers. “I have gloves,” is all he says. Talking around the mask is uncomfortable. He’s not in the mood to debate it - regardless of the shortcomings of his gauntlets, he’s at less risk of frostbite than Legend. So long as they don’t let it get too far along, a red potion will handle whatever damage the tips of ears or his feet take.

Before the Hero of Legend can argue the point, he steps outside. The wind is immediately bitingly cold, cutting through his gambeson as though it’s not even there. At least with the improved visibility, they have a direction – he can see the mountain sloping downwards in the distance.

Legend follows, flinching as soon as he steps into the wind. It’s fortunate he has the snowshoe ring at all, or Time would have to carry him simply to save his legs from ice burn. If nothing else, he’s going to make him start packing tights in that satchel of his after this.

They hike through the snow for nearly two hours – making slow progress, but heading steadily downwards, winding their way around hazards – before they finally reach a precipice. The sky is clear now, a stunning blue, and a weak, watery sun places them somewhere in the mid-morning.

More important is the view. “Is that a Tower?” Time asks, staring into the distance. They’re even higher up than he guessed, and the land spreads out before them like a map.

“Of course it is, of course it’s that crazy cook’s Hyrule,” Legend grouches. “Where else would it be? We should have guessed outright.”

There’s a truth in that. “At least we have a clear direction,” is all he says on the matter. “We can head towards the tower, and find the nearest stable or village from there.”

“Easier said than done. You see a way off this cliff? I can’t climb down that. Not like this. Maybe not even normally.”

Time certainly can’t either. “We’ll head down the ridge.” It will add precious hours to their descent, going sideways instead of downwards, but again, they have no choice. At least with the sun out, however briefly, the temperature has raised enough that it’s marginally more bearable. Which is just as well, as Legend’s already drunk half of the remaining green potion. He’s taken to using the lantern in short bursts to conserve his magic now that the cold is less deadly.

They navigate their way carefully along the ridge, at times having to backtrack to find a safer path down when confronted with crevasses or seracs. They walk largely in silence, both concentrating on the terrain and conserving their dwindling energy. The sun climbs the sky, then lowers again.

They stop to catch their breath on a small plateau. “I’m starving,” Legend grumbles. “And I still haven’t seen any game, or mushrooms, or wild berries or anything. Nothing except rocks and ice and snow. Not even a lizalfos, and those bastards can live anywhere.”

It’s a problem. “We’ll just have to keep going,” Time says, even as his own stomach clenches at the thought of food. It’s likely the fresh snowfall has buried any smaller plant life just as surely as it will have covered any animal tracks. It’s quicker to descend than it is to spend precious energy scavenging for what might not even be there.

“Ugh,” is all Legend says in response. Then, “You going to take off that creepy mask yet?”

“I don’t think it’s wise,” Time admits. He’s not yet reached the limits of the mask – he’s not sure what those limits are - but he can feel the creaking of the magic, like ropes straining to hold a load too heavy. He’s not altogether certain what will happen when he finally removes it.

“It looks like a torture device, though,” Legend grumbles.

“That’s because it is.”

Legend goes still. “Old Man, I know I said I didn’t want to ask, but what the hell?”

“What else would a mask that prevents you from sleeping, even if you want to, be designed for?” Time asks.

“And you put it on willingly? Wait, why do you have it in the first place?”

Termina is a story he hasn’t shared with anyone beyond Malon, and however much he and Legend have bridged the gap between them, he’s not about to explain it now. “It was never used on me, if that’s what you’re thinking. Nor have I ever used it on anyone else. It was at a shop of curiosities. I needed a way to stay awake, no matter what, so I bought it.”

Legend doesn’t look much happier with that explanation. “Does it hurt?”

“Not at all,” Time says. His face is numb from the cold, after all.

Perhaps he’s not convincing, because Legend just looks angry again. It seems to be a theme, that all he manages to do is make the Hero of Legend angry, one way or another. “This is bullshit. I can’t believe all this time – you were supposed to be the well-adjusted one among us, the one who has it all figured out! And here I discover that all along you’ve been willingly using torture devices on yourself.”

Time doesn’t have any defence for that. He’s just always used whatever tools he needed to get the job done. “I’ll remove it as soon as we’re somewhere safe, where I can sleep,” he promises. It’s an easy promise because it’s what he intended to do in the first place. “Now might be dangerous.”

Legend grunts. “Just so long as this isn’t a thing with you hurting yourself to let me sleep because of some dumb guilt about… that.”

“I would have had to resort to it whether you slept or not,” Time says. “Shall we keep moving?”

“I’m not dropping this!” Legend threatens. “I’ll, I’ll – I’ll tell the farm boy about this! Goddesses above, this is why he’s always worried about you, isn’t it? He already knew you were some damn messed up self-sacrificing idiot of a child soldier.”

“I think he spends most of his energy worrying about our cook,” Time suggests, diplomatically ignoring Legend’s description of him. Encouraging Wild away from trying out of some his more creative battle strategies is full time job some days, especially when half of their party are all too keen to go along for the ride.

Legend swears under his breath, and doesn’t argue it. “It’s a wonder his hair hasn’t turned grey between the two of you. You’re both nightmares in completely different ways.”

Time just walks ahead. Despite his ongoing grumbles, Legend ultimately has no choice but to drop the topic, as neither of them can spare the attention or energy on banter.

They walk, and walk, and the mountains don’t seem to end. Time can’t feel his feet anymore – hasn’t for a while – but plods onward determinedly. Legend stumbles next to him, still gripping the lantern, though he’s stopped feeding magic into it long ago. They’re almost out of green potion, and Legend seems as reluctant as he is to spend the last dregs. The snow is shallower here, at least, and moving helps, but they haven’t eaten, Time hasn’t slept, and the cold has sunk deep into their bones.

To make matters worse, the sun will be setting soon. It’s won’t be as bad as a blizzard, but the temperature is already dropping. And as they’ve descended, they’ve lost their view, so they have no idea how much further they need to go.

Time slows to a halt, looking around them. The wind has stilled to nearly nothing, and they’re in the middle of a clearing spotted by trees – some of the first they’ve come across that haven’t been totally stripped of their branches. He’s afraid to stop – afraid he won’t be able to get moving again – but Legend is more staggering than walking, and he’s been shivering ever since the sun disappeared behind the summit. They need to get him warm again.

It’s not safe to travel unfamiliar terrain at night anyhow, and now that they know they’re in Wild’s Hyrule they’d best play it extra safe. “We need to make another fire.”

“I’d rather we just get off this mountain,” Legend says. His teeth are chattering. Time just picks a tree, and with a precious bit of magic on his blade, cuts it down.

This time at least, gathering enough wood to make a fire last the night isn’t an issue. It takes far too much energy, and far too long, their movements sluggishly and clumsy, but by the time dusk gives way to darkness, they have a serviceable pile of wood. Time gathers a small pile with kindling in the middle of the clearing.

His fingers don’t want to work the flint, and he drops it several times in his attempt before he gives up. His magic is almost dry, but he has one last fire spell in him. “Stay back,” he warns Legend, which isn’t necessary because Legend doesn’t seem capable of moving from the larger stockpile of firewood.

One last cast of Din’s Fire, and they have a campfire again – and even better, a small circle around it cleared of snow. Time ushers Legend to sit by it, then hauls the rest of the wood into arm’s reach, and only then does he finally drop down next the other hero. “A shame we couldn’t find anything to eat,” he comments.

“Don’t even talk to me about it,” Legend groans, hands all but touching the flames, his entire body shaking. “It just makes it worse.”

“Drink some red potion,” Time suggests. “We still have half.” And Legend’s hands are showing signs of frostbite, which means his feet are almost certainly worse.

“Only if you split it with me. Half each.”

Time sighs. “Deal.” Drinking anything with the All Night Mask on is a trial, but he makes do. His ears tingle, and his feet go from numb to mildly aching. He shoves them a little closer to the fire, while Legend curls and uncurls his fingers restlessly.

That’s the last of their potions, then.

They sit in silence for nearly an hour, wholly consumed in soaking up every bit of warmth the fire offers. Eventually, though, Legend’s head begins to nod.

Time bumps him with his shoulder. “You should sleep, properly. Conserve your strength for tomorrow.”

“No. It’s my turn to stay awake,” Legend argues.

“Can you?” Time asks seriously. He knows exactly how much sleep Legend got in the cave. Four hours, at best. Not a problem under normal circumstances, but with magic exhaustion, no food, and a day out in freezing temperatures?

Legend at least knows it, and however bad his bravado, he’s not going to risk their lives on his ego. “Give me the mask then,” he demands.

“No.” Time’s tone is final.

Legend’s expression turns waspish. “If it’s bad enough you won’t subject me to it, then you shouldn’t be subjecting yourself to it, Old Man.”

“You’ve made your point. But my answer won’t be changing.” Once the lantern ran dry, the cold hit Legend hard. They’ve been in front of the fire for an hour and his shivering still hasn’t stopped. More gently, he adds, “I’ll keep my promise, once we’re safe. But we’re not safe yet.”

Legend scowls, and crosses his arms, hunching down in front of the fire. Stubborn.

He holds out for an impressively long time, but in the end, exhaustion gets the best of him, and he drifts off anyway. Time stays carefully still when his head drops against his shoulder, and waits as his breathing evens, and grows deep and slow.

He’s still shivering lightly, even unconscious, so once Time is sure he’s properly asleep he pulls him close, until he’s half-laying on his lap, and adds another log to the fire. Grabs his hands and curls them in his until they’re warm again, then gently tucks them back against his chest, pulling his cape closed around them. Legend doesn’t stir. He’d talked a big game, but he’d clearly been pushed well past exhaustion.

Time can relate – he can feel the ragged edge to his thoughts, the soul-deep jealousy of Legend’s slumber. He ignores it, just as surely as he ignores the temptation to remove the mask.

He’d slept for seven years. A few nights without won’t kill him.

He smothers a strangled, desperate laugh at the thought.

So he settles in for another long wait in the cold, slowly feeding wood into the fire whenever Legend starts to tremble in his rest. Tries not to let his thoughts wander, and instead listens for signs of life, for howling wolves or hooting owls. The mountains remain infuriatingly silent, the blanket of snow muffling everything to utter stillness.

Eventually, the sky begins to lighten again. They still have a little more wood to burn, so he doesn’t rouse Legend just yet. The fresh morning air nips at his back, beyond the reach of the fire, and his breath sends puffs of frost into the air. The skies are, thankfully, still clear, and the winds low.

Still, if they don’t find food or escape the snow today, things will become grim. Even if he can’t sleep, Time can feel his strength faltering, the coherence of his thoughts fraying. He’s hoping that with enough rest, Legend will still have enough wits for both of them, because he’s going to fast become useless.

He feeds another log into the fire. The sun peeks over the distant mountains, painting the clearing golden. And then Time blinks to the sight of a wolf loping into view.

He reaches for his sword on instinct, but before he draws, pauses. Glances at Legend, still asleep on his lap, and ventures, “Wolfie?”

‘Wolfie’ bounds towards him – mid leap, motes of shadow leech from his form, resolving into Twilight. “Old Man! It is you! You’re alright!” He throws his arms around him in a hug, then pulls back, relief turning immediately back to worry. “You’re freezing.” He pulls off one of his furs and thrusts it at him.

“We have been out in the mountains,” Time replies dryly, and gently takes the offered furs, tucking them around the still-slumbering Legend. “How did you find us?” As a wolf, Twilight’s tracking skills are impressive, but he normally needs some kind of trail to start off with.

“Our smithy was on watch, saw the smoke from the campfire, so we came to investigate. We’ve been looking for you since yesterday. Hang on, I’ll get the others. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back, they’re close,” he promises, and goes running back the way he came.

He disappears from view right as Legend finally rouses. “What’s going on?” he slurs, even as he burrows deeper into Twilight’s furs.

“It seems we’ve found the others – or more accurately, the others have found us,” Time informs him.

Legend blinks blearily up at him, and doesn’t seem to register the news. “It’s morning already? Then why am I still so tired?”

“We haven’t eaten in two days,” Time reminds him. “But if it helps you wake up, I think that’s our cook on his way now.”

Legend lurches up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, shivering, and wrapping Twilight’s furs more tightly around himself. He’s clearly half asleep given he doesn’t seem to have noticed them yet. “Wait, what?”

His answer comes in the crunch of footsteps through snow, rapidly heading their way. It’s Wild and Twilight, running towards them. Close on their heels is Warriors and Hyrule, with Four bringing up the rear. Wild is wearing a new outfit laden with feathers, but the rest are dressed normally, beyond Four having his hood up for once.

“See? I told you,” Four announces smugly as soon as they arrive.

“I’m so relieved,” Hyrule says, helping a dazed Legend to his feet, patting him down to check for injuries. “Are you two alright? Where were you?”

“Up in the mountains,” Time answers. “But I’m afraid we don’t know much more than that.”

Wild suddenly looks worried. “Up in the Hebra mountains? Then you got caught in that blizzard?”

“Unfortunately,” Time admits.

“What about you guys? Anyone know what happened with the portal?” Legend asks, pushing Hyrule’s worried hands away even as he’s using his shoulder for support.

“It dropped us near some place called Rito Village,” Warriors explains, casting a glance at Wild for confirmation. Wild nods, so he continues, “It was under attack by a horde of infected beasts – the portal itself took some heavy blast of magic right after the kid and I came out of it. We put down the attack and have been looking for you two ever since.”

“We were worried you’d been stranded in the last Hyrule,” Wild adds with a grimace. “But I’m not sure the Hebra mountains are much better.”

“We were caught somewhat unprepared,” Time admits.

“There’s an understatement,” Legend grumbles, then finally seems to notice he’s wrapped in Twilight’s furs. “The hell is this?”

“If you don’t want it, give it back to the Old Man. He’s like a block of ice,” Twilight scolds him.

“You’re missing some people,” Time notes, counting heads out of habit. Sky’s not here with them, and neither is Wind.

“Our Chosen Hero was first through the portal – he got caught off guard, took some bad hits,” Warriors explains, even as he unwinds his scarf and thrusts it at Time. “The Rito have fixed him up pretty well but the kid’s staying with him, since he doesn’t have any cold weather gear and we didn’t want to leave him on his own.”

“Ummm, since no one else seems like they’re going to ask, Old Man, what’s with the mask?” Four pipes up.

“Something to help survive the night,” is all Time says in response. “I’ll take it off as soon as we’re back to safety.”

“No. To hell with you. Not a minute longer,” Legend spits, even as he’s leaning heavily against Hyrule. “You promised me, Old Man!”

Time hesitates. He did promise.

“What- is there a problem?” Twilight asks, glancing hesitantly between them.

“I’ll tell him,” Legend threatens.

“Tell me what?” Twilight begins to look alarmed.

Time sighs. “This is as far as I can go then,” he says, and reaches up to unhook the mask.

For an instant, there’s pain. Then a strange, almost euphoric wave of relief. Then…

“Old Man?” Four asks. Then gasps. “Captain, catch him!”

Everything fades after that.

……………….

When Time drifts back to awareness, it’s to a heavy feeling. A deep weariness, and, as he blinks his one good eye, a veritable mountain of blankets.

He turns his head to see where he is. It’s a wooden hut of some kind, shaped like a tent. There are three other beds, and a hearth, with a merry blaze and a cooking pot simmering above a fire. Legend’s standing by it holding a bowl, with a woven blanket draped over his shoulders.

“Where-?” Time murmurs.

Legend glances over. “You’re finally awake? Way to scare us, Old Man.” He grabs another bowl. “Hang on, you’re going to want some of this.”

“How long was I asleep?” Time asks. His voice feels scratchy in his throat.

“About twelve hours. It’s evening right now. You just missed the others – they went to get their own food, the cook wanted to leave this just for us. Some kind of beef and vegetable soup.” He sticks a spoon of it in his mouth and lets out a hum of satisfaction. “It’s delicious. Best thing you’ll ever eat. I was just getting a fourth serving when you woke up. He made a whole pot,” Legend reports, generously filling the second bowl and shoving it at him.

Time doesn’t particularly want to leave the warmth of the blankets, but the lure of food is too strong to ignore. He sits up, taking the bowl carefully, cradling it in his hands to savour the heat. It smells fragrantly spicy, and he can see chunks of carrots and meat within. The first spoonful is a burst of warmth that seems to melt down his arms and thaw his chest from within.

“See? It’s unreal. Why can’t the rest of us cook like this?” Legend complains with his mouth half-full.

Time eats slowly – experience has warned him of going too hard after a period without, and while it’s a struggle, it’s a pleasant one, with each bite as comforting as one of Malon’s hugs. “What happened?” he eventually asks.

Legend shrugs. “Not much. You passed out. The captain and the farm boy took turns carrying you here. Which looked really awkward by the way, since you’re way too tall. Anyhow it turns out we were only a few hours away from the Rito Village. Most of their huts are open-air, so they put us in this one and I think we probably have half of the blankets in the village between the two of us. We’ve mostly just been waiting for you to wake up since.”

Time rubs a tired hand across his forehead. He hasn’t slept that long or that deeply in years. It’s an unsettling feeling, but he’d evidently needed it. He’s already feeling drowsy again thanks to the food.

“So,” Legend continues casually. “The others will be back soon. I told them you just needed to sleep it off, but they’re going to want to see for themselves. Which means this is the one chance you and I have for a little chat.”

Time raises his eyebrows. Their last proper ‘chat’, after all, ended with some ground shaking revelations for him, and he’s since discovered that conversations with Legend are fraught with even more peril than conversations with Four, because at least Four has the good manners not to dig into every inconsistency he notices like a starving bear. “Not tired of my company yet? You’d think you’d had enough after the past two days.”

“I’m starting to realise it was overdue,” Legend admits, for the first time sounding more tired than grumpy. “Probably shouldn’t have avoided the question for so long. It’s ridiculous that it took a situation like this to get to it.”

“I’m glad for it. That we could clear the air between us,” Time says honestly.

Legend all but bristles by his side. “I don’t know if that’s what you normally call clearing the air, Old Man. I dug you up some fresh traumatic memories, got a few new ones of my own. We’ve been out of the mountains for an entire day and I still feel like I’ll never be warm again.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell any of them that you were caught cuddling.”

“You better not!” he threatens. “I’ve got an image to uphold here.”

Time nods sagely. “We both handled it with the complete grace and experience expected of veteran heroes. We weren’t cold at all.”

“That’s gonna be a little less convincing when you collapsed the instant you took off that freaky mask.”

“I did warn you that would happen,” Time points out, “But I made a promise, and you were insistent that I keep it then and there, and not a moment longer.”

“And you did, as you should have.” He scowls at him. “Which brings me to what I wanted to talk about. You’re not allowed to use that mask again.”

Time huffs. It’s an old refrain. “If I’d had a better option, I wouldn’t have used it at all. There’s no need to be so upset. It’s not even my worst mask.”

“You have worse ones?!” Legend shrieks.

In retrospect, given Legend’s mood, that hadn’t been the best thing to say. He can’t seem to find his equilibrium with Legend, not even the fragile one he had before certain revelations about his timeline. “I’ll of course avoid it if I can, but if the situation is dire enough, I won’t make promises.”

“You’re missing the point! Look, I get the problem here. You’re eldest, you feel like you have to protect the rest of us. I understand that, because I’m second eldest. Maybe I only beat out the captain or our chosen hero by a few months, but I sure as hell beat everyone right up to and maybe even you in experience. And the idea is, you don’t even have options in your arsenal that can hurt you. Because those aren’t options at all!”

Time remains carefully silent. Silence seems to be the only way he avoids getting into deeper trouble with this new, terrifyingly overprotective Hero of Legend. Is this what it’s like for Hyrule all the time?

Of course, Legend reads the silence for what it is, and ups the ante. “I’ll tell the farm boy,” he threatens.

“That threat is hardly worth anything, since they all saw what happened when I took the mask off. I think they’ve all guessed how it works by now.”

“Not about the mask.”

Time pauses, and processes that.

“That’s low,” he murmurs, a thread of betrayal snaking through his heart. He thought he and Legend had bridged the gap between them – not that he’d handed the other hero a weapon to use against him.

“I don’t care,” Legend shoots back. “It’s bad enough dealing with the crazy cook – at least he doesn’t know better when he hurts himself with a stupid stunt. You should. I’ll even give you a handy trick for it – if it’s a tool that you wouldn’t let any of us use, then you don’t use it either.” He folds his arms. “That’s it. That’s my one request. You keep to that, and goat cheese brains never has to know.”

He’s accidentally given Legend prime blackmail material, it seems. And for whatever reason, he’s decided to deploy it on this.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” is his only reply.

“You’d better,” he grumbles. Legend takes a grumpy last few bites of his meal before tossing the empty bowl aside. “And here’s some more free advice, while I’m at it. Talk to the crazy cook about it. It might help you. But since I know that’s not gonna be enough for you, consider this – it might help him. He’s forever moody about the fact that he’s the only one of us who ever failed. Might help him to know someone he looks up to suffered the same fate.”

It’s a good point, as much as Time wishes it weren’t. “When did you become so wise?” he asks with a lopsided smile. “I thought that was supposed to be my job.”

“Yeah, well, you’re too busy being old and wise for everyone else, it turns out. So it’s about time someone does that for you.”

The topic is abruptly dropped at the sound of approaching footsteps outside. “Everything okay in there? I thought I heard Legend shrieking earlier,” Twilight asks as he enters, then beams at the sight of Time sitting up. “Old Man, you’re awake! You’re already looking better.”

“He’s your problem again,” Legend grouches, and shoves a bundle of furs into Twilight’s arms. “Here, have these back. I’m going to go find Traveller and get him to teach me his fire sword spell before bed.” He shuffles out with a blanket still wrapped around him.

Twilight looks at his retreating back, then looks at Time, and appears to come to a realisation. “Ah. Well, it’ll be nice to have someone else in the club.”

“And what club is that?” Time asks sternly.

Twilight just grins at him.

Time needs to work on his disapproval face, he thinks. They’re all getting far too used to it.