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By the time they get back to the house, the sun has well and truly set, yet still, Zelda waits for them.
Guilt wars with relief at the sight of her, crouched up and tucked in a heavy shawl Paya had made her as she waits on the doorstep, eyes turned down the path and twinkling in the light with that Otherness that he’s long since come to adore. They match, some people say, his glittering blue and her own in a shade not the same; a bright green that invokes memories of things unknown, that tugs at souls and makes hearts stutter when caught off guard.
He loves it.
Zelda feels like danger and home at once, a challenge and a whisper of boundless magics to match with the wilds that howl within his own soul. He can’t help the smile that touches his face for the briefest of moments at the sight of her, at seeing her jump to her feet with a flash of glittering green to dart to his side, all scoldings and fussing until her eyes fall upon the hero at his side.
Zelda’s scoldings fall flat, still and silent as she looks at Legend.
The Veteran bows his head respectfully, but the wince in his eyes is what has her focus as she all but drags him into the house, magic thrashing and twisting with unease about her at the sight of someone brought low before her.
He loves that she cares, even if this will be the first meeting between herself and the Hero of Legends
The veteran is pliant though, allowing himself to be pulled along and into the house, into where Twilight and Time are also sitting up waiting for them, the old man with a pipe at his lips and Twilight fussing and pacing back and forth with barely contained worry that the champion knows well, both from during his adventure and since meeting the man in Hylian form. Their heads whip up as Zelda pushes open the door, relief clear in their faces and in the puff of smoke that escapes the old man, heavy and more like a breath of relief than anything else.
For a moment, he pauses to appreciate the scene before him. Zelda has Legend handled, dragging him over to a chair with soft little mutters and huffs, which frees him to look around their home at the hero who waits like a nervous father and the other whose role could easily be taken, here at this time and this time alone, by any old grandfather with the same result. It looks like family, like worry and warmth and it makes the part of his soul that’s been caught in cold and aching since finding the veteran, brighten. There’s a warm fire now, lapping at the hearth where the sea lapped at their skin, and there’s warm fabric and warmer gazes offered their way as Twilight throws his pelt around his shoulders with a soft tsking that he’s sure the man learned from many a similar scolding from his mother.
“Where were the two of you, we were getting worried,” the rancher huffs, and Wild, within so as to not upset those without, chuckles. ‘Getting worried’ would imply they didn’t spend however long since the sun started setting sitting up and fussing.
“Legend and I had a talk.” Words are still difficult now, even now that they’re out of the grotto. There’s still that shadow that hangs over him, a ghost of a long dead hero that lingers about him, protesting the free use of a body once his own. He wants silence and sternness, to trail to the side of his princess and the figure whose label even Wild can’t quite set for himself.
What the heck would he have thought of Legend in his past life? Would he have looked to him in admiration as he does now? Would it still have been tainted by shame and jealousy? Would the knight that was Link have respected the other hero as a brother in arms as he had the champions? Or maybe that Link would have put thoughts of heroes past behind himself.
Zelda says that he’d admitted once, in that life, to being overwhelmed just as she was by his position, and that it had manifested in him shutting down and shutting others out with a focus solely on his duties as her knight. Would that mean that Legend would have been to him what he was to Zelda? A personification then as he is now of what a hero ought to be and all of the failings he has? All of the ways he comes short? Even bowed low, the veteran’s intent is to help others and use his own suffering to aid them, and even if the reasons are twisted and ill thought out, the intent is pure.
He frowns, and maybe his voice has faded, or his expression darkened in some way, because Twilight watches him with worry, gaze fixed and studying like when he thinks something is bothering his cub. He’s not wrong, but he’s also not Wild’s focus right now. Wild’s focus is on how Zelda’s eyes are snapping, how her hands flutter this way and that.
The poor woman may be a scholar, but when faced with a stranger who she perceives to be of any importance, she’s still nervous about any skill that isn’t related to her assigned duties as Hyrule’s Crown Princess. She needn’t be, and the veteran clearly isn’t all that surprised to meet a princess who possesses skills related to medicine or whatever else Zelda might be displaying. Still, he moves to their sides just in case, for Zelda’s comfort and his own sanity, because while the knight is wondering, he’s also desperately urging Wild to go and stand beside those to whom his duty is due. So, he does, he moves to stand nearby and offers a stilted smile to Zelda even as he stands at the veteran’s shoulder.
Zelda smiles back, briefly, before her brows furrow again and she turns back to the veteran. She looks worried, and Wild understands. “A potion ought to have healed all, there is no reason you shouldn’t have been able to walk up here with ease.” She mutters, staring at the arm she’s holding fast, sleeve rolled up to expose pale skin.
The vet allows her, simply sitting back and holding the blanket Time had brought over close about his shoulders. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”
“It is though!” She turns the limb carefully, inspecting every inch with an intensity that has long ears flushing slightly, “If Wild’s hearty potions are losing their effect, we must ensure that we determine why.”
The vet shifts. “It’s not the potion. I’m-” he pauses when the princess’s eyes lift to fix on him, “It’s more just...me.”
“How do you mean, vet?” Time questions, staring, heavily. Smoke wreaths itself around him but does nothing to soften the look in his eyes.
Time and Legend are weird together, he’s long since come to know. The old man regards the veteran with a sort of wariness born of confusion, meanwhile Legend is distant with the man, watching and listening, but quick to speak only when something particularly harsh escapes the older man. What words exchanged without weight are charged with something not playful but not a challenge yet either, and always met with wariness from the other. They dance around each other to keep the other at length and what few times they’re obligated to speak to one another, it’s with both men standing back and wary.
Even now, as Time speaks, Legend’s eyes lift to fix on their leader, all dark and guarded, celestial lights veiled behind a wall. “I mean that they only heal wounds.”
“Is there something else then?” Zelda pushes, ignoring the obvious tension between both men to instead stare up to Legend from her crouch at his side. “An underlying illness or something?”
A twitch back of long ears. There's no change in the veteran’s eyes but his ears, as Warriors has often said, betray far more. “Not really.”
He’s lying.
“He usually uses items to help him, but he gave up using them all recently,” he tells his housemate, and Legend’s gaze whips to him with a hint of betrayal glittering in his expression.
He expects Time’s eyes to darken, Zelda’s face to twitch into something curious and questioning, but he doesn’t expect the rancher’s heavy sigh, Twilight’s eyes turn to the vet all dark and worried, not unlike how he sees directed at himself after a memory has returned to him or a battle has left him brought low by injuries. He sees it a lot, come to think of it, but he’s never seen it directed at somebody else, especially not the veteran. “Ledge,” the man sighs, folding his arms in front of himself, “please tell me the cub got it wrong.”
The way the veteran dips his head, lip coming between his teeth, is new. The slumping of his shoulders and the cautious look up through long lashes is new. The naked exhaustion in his voice, the lowering of walls, is new, and Wild finds himself staring at the rancher in something close to awe.
He’s never seen shields fall so easily to anyone. Not from the vet or anyone else.
“I had good reason.”
One bushy brow raises, midnight turning to capture starlight, “I can’t wait to hear it.”
Time is looking between the two with as much confusion as Wild feels himself, but the princess has eyes only for the vet, waiting eagerly for his answer, fingers twitching, no doubt for a notebook so she may note whatever it is that the veteran says, for future use.
He strays across the floor, grabbing one of said notebooks from the shelf on the far wall, soundlessly handing it to her and smiling back as she offers him a silent thanks by way of sparking eyes and flashing teeth.
The vet shifts, drooping slightly, pain flashing across his face before he attempts to explain to the others what he’d told Wild in the grotto; that the items are a crutch, that using them leaves no opportunity for those who will follow to learn anything from him. “When I first started, I looked into the heroes before me as much as I could, so I could figure out how to do it right,” he says, hands trembling and pain creasing his face all the while. “If the heroes that follow after me do the same, how can they learn if every book simply says ‘and the hero used a now unobtainable item in order to complete the same task that you need help with’?”
Twilight’s eyes soften, posture loosening. “Did you struggle with that?”
There’s a flash in violet eyes as answer, not pain this time but something tense and strained anyways. “ So many times .”
Time flinches.
“I don’t have the four-sword to grant me instant aid and I don’t have an ocarina that sends me across time.” Legend murmurs, and the words have Time starting and staring. “There were so many things I was confused about, so many times I would have killed to have had clear answers. I don’t want my legacy to make the heroes who come after me feel like that. If there’s going to be stories about me, I want them to do some good for the kids who follow in my path.” His hands grasp tighter in the blanket around his shoulders, it’s damp somewhat, hair dripping ocean water onto it still and leaving it sodden around his shoulders. “If I’m going to leave footprints across history, I want to leave them so little feet won’t struggle to follow in them.”
Like Wind trailing in Time’s tracks when they walk through the snow, the sand, the dirt. It's a cute thing to watch and makes him smile more often than not. He'd never considered it as a picture though of how they follow each other. He's had no stories to follow save that of his own past self, but even the steps he made in his past seem so impossible to follow to him now. The idea that his own would be difficult for another one day makes his soul ache. Would his own legacy hang so heavy on another as it does over him?
Time’s mind is clearly turned to similar things, eyes downcast and pain shining in bright blue, that same look as when Wind had revealed the connections between himself and their leader.
The rancher, however, seems to be under no such effect, dragging one hand through his hair with a heavy sigh before crossing to be closer to the rest of them, passing by Time entirely to crouch at Zelda’s side in front of the vet, hand settling heavy on one knee, eyes dark with something warm and tired. “That’s all well an’ good vet, but speakin’ from experience, it’s easier to follow steps that walk straight than them that stumble along. You want to set a path they can follow, you gotta be able to walk to forge it.” The raised brow arches higher, dark eyes holding fast. “An’ let’s be real, you hardly made it up here without fallin’ flat on yer face, ain’t so?”
Legend winces.
Twilight’s fingers tap gently at the veteran’s knee. “Now, ya think yer items are a crutch, yeah? Well, here’s some news; some folks can’t walk without a crutch. They can’t leave a trail without somethin’ off’rin’ aid to ‘em so they can walk ’t’all. That crutch ain’t making it harder for those that follow them, if anything, it’s the only reason they have anything to follow. And what if the heroes that comes after you needs one too?”
Violet eyes dart up, he can’t see the expression in them past hanging hair, but Twilight’s gaze softens at whatever he sees.
“What if,” the man continues, “Hyrule looks to you depriving yerself the tools to you need to function and thinks that true heroes neglect their needs? Are lot are already risk takers as is. Do you want Wild here to think them that came before are folks who don’t meet their needs an’ jist push on till they drop?”
“That’s not-”
“That’s what they’ll see.” The rancher affirms, “we’re not the brightest bunch here, Ledge.”
Silence.
Another sigh from the rancher, the softening of midnight skies and easing of lines both in his face and his form, shoulders falling and a smile touching his lips, drawing them back slightly as he looks up at the vet. “Pretty sure the cap’n’d say somethin’ here ‘bout keeping a blade sharp through care. You’re letting your edges dull if you don’t sharpen them with yer tools, an’ some blades jist need a mite more sharpening than others.”
Zelda nods slowly, then turns to the veteran. “I can understand your hesitance to use items to strengthen yourself. For ages I and others around me counted more on my power than on anything else.” And hurt flashes in green eyes, a sharp stab of pain to his own heart in kind. “As someone who’s tried to follow the steps of those who left no guidance for me, I can appreciate your wish to make your path an easy one to follow. However, I’ve found, in my life, that I would have been better to allow myself more freedoms. To be over-strict is to prevent your true strength from shining through.” She winces, hesitant now that she’s fixed under the same galactic gaze that gave Wild pause earlier. “Had- had I allowed myself more allowances, I might have unlocked my power earlier. By trying too hard to be what was expected of me- trying to force something by being harsh - I brought destruction upon my kingdom rather than salvation.”
She didn’t. It wasn’t her; it was Ganon; it was Wild’s fault for falling in battle, it wasn’t Zelda’s fault , but they both argue on that endlessly and now is not the time. She’ll blame herself and he will attempt to shoulder it instead. There’s guilt in both their hearts for the losses they’ve suffered, the sacrifices made on their behalf that could have- should have been avoided. Even so, his hand slips to her shoulder, squeezing in comfort and finding the gesture returned as ink-stained fingers settle over his own, squeezing back gently in return.
“If it helps,” she continues, “the stories I was told of the Hero of Legend painted him as not reliant on tools, but rather innovative and quick witted. They focus less on what you carried and more on how you carried yourself , how you carried Hyrule .”
“If you want to carry anything though, you have to be able to stand,” he adds, trying to smile because Legend always tries to lighten moods like this, and the air of the room feels stifling. The lack of some jest or scoff from the vet leaves him uneasy, and though his attempts aren’t nearly as effective at the pink-haired heroes, they do earn a bit of a smile from his brothers.
Zelda chuckles. “Agreed.” And then she’s falling stern, calculating again. “What items do you usually use and what are their effects? Wild’s letters always implied that you were... well, nothing as I see you now. If there’s a such a difference from removing those items, what is it that they’re meant to do?”
A twitching of ears, a heavy sigh and twisting up of features, hands tighter again on the blanket. “Pain relief, strength enhancers, protective spells to ward off enemy blows and curses...”
“And you use these constantly?” Zelda taps her pen to her lips thoughtfully.
Another wince, this time not so much pained as what Wild recognizes from himself as internalized distaste. “Yes.”
A furrow of golden brows creases the princess’s gentle face. “Based on my knowledge, those items would enhance you considerably. If you need them to function at all however-” she cuts herself off, quickly handing off pen and paper to Wild, who’s ready at her side to take them, well used to her abrupt shifts and manner. The princess turns her eyes up to the vet, something flashing wild in their depths as she raises her hands slowly. “May I?”
One ear raises while the other falls to the side, not unlike Wolfie when confused, but the vet nods, wary.
Golden light surges over stained fingers, and the vet starts in his seat. Wild recognizes, only from a thousand such experiences himself, that his princess is inspecting the other with magic rather than sight, and the way her eyes, fallen closed to aid focus, wince, brows rising and falling in a dozen emotions that leaves her gasping when the light fades, has him worrying. It has him immediately crouching beside her to offer support if she needs it. Magic still takes a lot out of her. It’s not been long since the Calamity ended, and her power is still weak in its wake.
She doesn’t slump though, instead staring at the veteran with an ill-contained horror that borders on disbelief as the light fades again. “How are you even alive? ”
That sounds particularly bad , what the actual heck?
The vet just laughs though, a puffed-out breath and the trembling of his shoulders. “Don’t know how many times I’ve been asked that at this point-”
“No!” Zelda is jumping up, leaning forwards and generally getting up in the vet’s space in a way that cuts him off immediately, making him blink at her, startled, ears pinning back. “I mean, statistically , you- Your body seems to be entirely held together with magic alone... Magic that’s currently fading and- how are you walking at all? How are you functioning enough to do your duties?”
“He’s not,” Twilight answers, turning a disapproving look on the vet. “He’s been strugglin’ to do basic’ly anythin’ for the last week.”
So, the rancher noticed it too.
Zelda’s face pinches up, eyes blazing. She’s not angry though, no, he recognizes this; this is his princess with her scholar activated, her mind thrumming and clicking away almost loud enough for him to actually hear, gears turning and pumping thoughts and theories flashing behind her eyes. “So...” and he can see the way the vet stiffens under a gaze near predatory, the princess’s hands hovering. He knows she wants to grab, inspect, search and look for every facet, to complete her understanding, but this is a person before her and not an item, and she at least has the presence of mind to know that such a thing would hardly be acceptable. “Not only do you rely on magical items in order to function, but they’re likely the only thing actually holding you together and keeping you capable of going about day-to-day tasks. In which case,” she’s muttering now, rambling, taking no time to consider that every word from her mouth is making Time look more pained, Twilight more sorrowful, Legend more nervous, “using the items you listed, you’d likely be brought level to the average Hylian rather than above them, which would mean-” she pauses, whipping around so that she’s near nose to nose to the vet. “You defeated Ganon at normal Hylian baselines ?”
And now Wild is staring.
That shouldn’t be possible.
“I had the Master Sword.” Legend defends, like her statement is an accusation.
“That you had to reforge yourself and which was arguably in the same condition as Link found it in!” The princess huffs. Her eyes are darting everywhere now, she’s drawing back and tapping her cheek, mind clicking and spinning away.
Twilight smiles at her. It’s the same smile he sends Wild’s way most of the time, that fond warm thing that he’s shocked to see turned on the vet now too. When did things change between them? It quickly shifts to a heavy stare though, fingers tapping against bare knees to gain the veteran’s attention. “Perhaps you should get them items back on again, bud.”
“What did you-”
“ Bud, ” the rancher emphasizes, but the smile says he knows just what Legend thought he heard. Wild wants to know, he really wants to know. Is it the reason Twilight’s eyes are gentle now when they turn to their brash team-mate?
Zelda, not having witnessed them any other way than here and now, is not so distracted, and instead whips around, eyes sparking even fiercer. “Yes! Please, don your items again!” And then she falters and coughs, “ah, for your own sake, of course.”
The vet smiles at her. Eyes glinting.
Despite himself, despite knowing this is Legend , not the captain, Wild feels the need to sidle just the slightest bit closer to his princess.
As requested though, rings are produced from the bag, and though the vet regards them with something doubtful, something furrowing his brows and tightening the lines of his mouth, no such conflicts arise in the rancher’s eyes. Dark hands scoop the bands up and slide them over gnarled fingers without hesitation, and the effect is near immediate. Color seeps back into the vet’s skin like fire licking across paper. Pale scars fade to highlight instead the generous smatter of freckles dusting across drawn cheeks and long ears. A heavy sigh escapes through lips that touch with color rather than grey and pale like they’d been but a moment later. Legend looks suddenly alive, and- and-
It’s like looking into the cosmos, like an explosion of a star, bright and warm in the room around them. The aura that was curled tight and flickering is suddenly warmth and light and color that spirals out, flowing around them and has sighs escaping from each of the rest of them, even as Zelda’s eyes glitter and her pen works against her notebook near feverishly. It’s a galaxy unfurling into the sky, a bright star shining, returning from the brink of a fiery falling to instead burn bright and strong once more.
Twilight touches a hand to his head, shaking it slightly.
Time stumbles back slightly, startled, but apparently not knowing why.
Wild’s own aura, green and rich and winding, sings in return, reaching out to twine itself close into the starlight that breaks across it. Vines reaching for cosmos and winds singing to endless skies.
The cosmos sings back, and Legend chuckles at him, eyes burning into his own before the guarded veil falls once more.
Zelda breathes a gasp, her on magic thrumming, glowing with light that shines though in a grin wider than he’s seen it in ages. “Do you have another of those rings that I could study?”
“Without takin’ off that un,” Twilight reminds, stare pointed but not sharp. “That thing shouldn’t leave you again, hear me?” And he’s still holding tight onto the hand that wears it.
Legend winces, not in pain this time, the hand that trails to his neck, rubbing subconsciously, clears any worry of that. “Understood.”
It doesn’t. Wild checks every so often, gaze turning to worn hands whenever the vet gives him cause to worry. The rings linger though, and when galaxies fade and eyes cloud over with something strained, fingers fidgeting with the aids that keep magic bound to a body that would fail without it, Twilight and he are quick to offer words and ears to settle the soul of their brother.
He’s glad of it, as are the rest. The return of their veteran to how he stood before, strong and proud and someone they look to for guidance, as a model of what a hero ought be, sets all better at ease. Maybe he doesn’t realize it, treading in the back of the group with eyes and ears turned to dangers and mind to missions, but they already seek to follow his steps, even those that come before.
Just as wished, they’re steps easy to track, even if they are daunting to trail after in, what with he who left them standing so high in their visions.