Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Time strides down the overgrown pathway, eye focused solely on the large stone temple looming above the tree-line. He, rather frustratingly, doesn’t have much time. He has to get there as fast as he can, has to stop the rest of the Chain from what they’re about to do, for all their sakes.

Someone stands in the way as Time turns the last corner, hair and blue tunic aglow from the late afternoon sun that shines through the trees and lights up the temple's entrance. He had expected it honestly; no doubt Warriors would want someone to delay him outside the temple. But when he’d thought about the idea earlier, he hadn’t expected the one chosen to stay behind to be Wild.

Sky, for obvious reasons, would’ve been his first pick, followed by Warriors. Not Wild.

The Champion watches him, offering a small smile as Time draws closer. “Hey, Time.”

“Move, Wild.” Time says shortly, keeping momentum to walk straight past him, but Wild steps into his path.

“Uh, yeah, I’m not doing that.” Wild at least looks a little apologetic. “Come on, even you know I wouldn’t do that.”

Time pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. “Wild, I do not have time for this.”

Wild’s lips twitch, the way they do when he’s thought of a particularly horrendous joke he wants to inflict on them, but Time just raises a hand to stop it. “Don’t even start. Let me pas, Wild.”

There’s a moment of nothing but the wind as Wild looks Time up and down with a sharp, assessing eye before he shakes his head. “Not happening, Time. Look, I know things are probably a bit weird right now, but if you just wait for a minute, I’m sure we can work it out, yeah?”

Precious seconds are ticking away as Time stands here entertaining him and frustration bubbles in his stomach. This is exactly what he had been wanting to avoid but… well… he’s not exactly being given a choice.

Time reaches back for the Biggoron sword, unsheathing it and holding it loosely with both hands.

Wild raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

For someone whose whole reputation is mostly focused on how impulsive he is, Wild sounds remarkably judgemental.

“I am giving you the chance to move.” Time says, cool and calm.

With a small careless shrug, Wild straightens up, sliding his shield onto his arm but leaves his sword sheathed on his back. He doesn’t say anything else, mind clearly made up, and Time sighs. He doesn’t want to hurt Wild but it won’t be that hard to incapacitate him enough to get past.

“Whenever you’re ready, Old Man.” Wild’s voice is quiet and apologetic.

Time heaves his sword out in a wide swing, trying to push Wild off-balance, but Wild just slides back, dancing out of the way, leaves and grass rustling as his feet swish through them.

It’s a teasing motion, something Time’s seen him do when he fights Hinoxes. It’s meant to agitate Time into chasing him, and it’s something he really doesn’t want to have to deal with. Time follows regardless, gritting his teeth, and tries to keep up the fast pace of his swings.

He realises his mistake too late as Wild abruptly hops to the side of one of his strikes and vanishes from sight. Sharp pain bursts from his wrists and Time finds himself stumbling backwards. His sword is no longer in his hands but instead laying on the dirt between them.

Holding a nearly-broken tree branch of all things, Wild moves quickly. He gets the toe of his boot under Time's sword and kicks it into the bushes, then glances at Time. An unspoken question glints in his eyes: now what?

Hindsight is important, because Time realises this is exactly why Wild was the one to stay behind. Out of all of the Links, all their quirks and magic and items and fighting skills, Wild is the only one who’s literally weaponised dodging.

How do you get past someone who’s at his strongest when he knows exactly how you fight?

Time clenches his fists, the frustration inside him only growing. He doesn’t have time for this! He shoves a hand into his pouch, fingers closing around the handle of the megaton hammer and pulls it out.

“Do not make me do this.” Time warns, gripping the hammer tightly.

Wild doesn’t reply, just moves back to the centre of the pathway and raises his chin in a silent challenge.

Time twists the hammer once and swings it out, pouring every ounce of magic his golden gauntlets can afford him on top of his own strength behind the hit. All he has to do is get a glancing blow, enough to stun Wild, and then he’ll be able to get past. That’s all he needs to do.

There’s a loud clang of metal on metal as Wild catches the blow against his shield and shoves, pushing all that momentum back at Time. Then, in the ultimate insult to injury, his champion ability activates again and Time finds the hammer ripped from his hands.

Wild steps back quickly, tossing the hammer somewhere behind him, and looks at Time. He’s still not talking, still too focused on the fight to detach himself from that old mindset, but the question still hasn’t changed since he last silently asked it.

Now what?

Time snarls out a curse and goes for his last resort. The ocarina still fits perfectly in his hands, despite the years that have passed since he last used it, and he plays that all too familiar tune. As time warps around him, the last thing he hears is Wild’s yelp of, “Time, wait!”

Let’s try this again.

- Two -

He tries to not follow Wild with the intention of baiting him back to engage, but Wild just stops and waits. Only one of them is on a deadline, after all.

Well, there’s no point wasting any more time here then.

Let’s try this again.

“Time, wait!”

- Six -

As Time nears him, Wild’s eyes drop to the blue ocarina he’s tucking back into his pouch. A small smile spreads across his face, tugging slightly at the edges of his scars.

“How many times is this?” He asks, tilting his head. Of course he knows.

“The last one.” Time sighs.

“And how many times have you said that to me?”

It’s said matter-of-factly, not overconfidently, and Time hates that despite not being able to travel backwards through time, despite his only power being the ability to slow it, Wild somehow still knows that it’s not his first, second or even third reset.

“Let me past.” He commands.

Wild’s smile turns sad. “You know I can’t, Time.”

“Don’t you understand what I’m trying to do here?!” Time spits the words out, tone harsher and more desperate than he would like to admit. He just needs Wild to understand and listen for once! “I need to get into that temple!”

There’s a long moment where Wild just looks at him, bright eyes narrow and unrelenting. Then, somehow managing to sound both apologetic and unmoving at the same time, he asks, “Have I let you past yet?”

“I know the others are in there. If they destroy that tablet—”

“There is no magic tablet, Time.” Wild cuts him off, voice turning curt. “I’m guessing I’ve told you this before, right?”

Time scoffs. “I am not cursed, Wild.”

Wild shrugs a shoulder, as casual as can be. “You already know my answer.”

“I’m trying to end this so we can all go home!” Time tries, one final pointless plea.

“Are you, though? Really?”

It’s exactly what he expected.

Fine, Time thinks, reaching for his sword. This time.

Wild watches him do it, face smoothing over and going blank. He doesn’t reach for his weapons, just stands there impassive and silent, his eyes following the way Time unsheathes the Biggoron sword from his back and holds onto it tightly.

And that right there is the issue, the reason he’s here once again.

Wild never approaches, never makes the first move, because his magic is reactionary. He will always have the upper hand if the enemy attacks first. And the worst thing is Time can’t wait for the stalemate to end, no matter how much he wants to push his impulsive descendant into action.

In this Hyrule, this in-between era, is a tablet that holds a spell powerful enough to seal the Shadow away, and everyone else has been cursed to believe it’s instead capable of destroying the world around them. Time’s the only one who escaped the Shadow’s attempt to protect itself, the only one capable of ending all this madness.

He just wishes he didn’t have to go through his boys to do so. He takes a breath, trying to think of a way to incapacitate Wild, one that wouldn’t trigger a flurry rush. Maybe…

Time lunges forward, closing the distance between them rapidly. Wild just watches, his eyes narrowed and focused. Time feints to one side then throws himself into a roll, sliding around Wild’s guard. He leaps, Biggoron sword flashing in the light and—

Wild dodges, flipping backwards over the blade, and vanishes as his feet touch the ground. Time finds himself crumpling to the ground, Wild dancing backwards with Time’s sword flung into the grass somewhere behind him.

Time pants, glaring up at the Champion, who quirks an eyebrow, slipping somewhat out of his knight mindset.

“Now what?” he asks, voice still emotionless and flat.

Fucking of course. Time grabs his ocarina.

Let’s try this again.

“Time, wait!”

- Eight -

The Jump Strike doesn’t work either, much to Time’s absolute frustration. He’s never regretted teaching the Hidden Skills to Twilight, knowing his descendant needed them on his quest, but right now? In this very moment?

Yeah, Time’s regretting it just a little bit.

He makes a mental note to stop letting Twilight and Wild spar together. Clearly Wild’s worked out ways around some of the Hidden Skills.

Have to try again.

“Time, wait!”

- Thirteen -

“How many times is this?” Wild asks as Time stomps up to him.

“Does it really matter?”

“I mean, I’d love to boast.” Wild shrugs. “I’m pretty sure there's a betting pool on whether I'd be able to beat you or not.”

“You and I both know that’s not true.” Time says with a sigh. Normally he wouldn't even blink at the idea – it’s nice to have a low-stakes, casual joke among them, given the everything else they have to deal with – but none of them would make one for something as serious as this. “Let me past.” 

Wild smiles, weak and sad. “You know I can’t do that, Time.”

Time throws himself forward. It’s a dirty trick, one he’d never normally consider using, but he just needs to throw Wild off balance for just a second! He has a moment to see Wild’s completely unimpressed expression before Wild dodges, sliding backwards.

There’s no flurry rush, so Time presses onward, swinging the flat of his sword out. Wild moves back, sidestepping each swing, scrambling to get hold of his shield. Then he abruptly stops, freezing in place right as the Biggoron sword aligns with his throat.

Time, well… Time panics. He wants to get past, not kill Wild!

But he doesn’t have the chance to adjust the height of his blade, nor does Wild let him. Wild raises his shield and parries the blow at the last second, flickering out of sight as he does as his magic surges.

Ah, shit. Time knows how this goes. When he finds himself unarmed, he reaches for the ocarina.

Have to try again.

“Time, wait!”

- Sixteen -

“That’s a pretty upset look on your face.” Wild observes as Time nears him. “Not going well?”

“You’re awfully smug about this.” Time tells him, disapproving and flat.

“Wouldn’t you be?” Wild replies innocently. “What number are you on?”

Time rolls his eye, coming to a stop only a few metres away. “I’m not feeding your ego, Wild. Let me past.”

“You know I can’t do that, Time.”

Same sad, apologetic smile. Same empty words. Time crosses his arms. “Before you even try to ‘reason with me’, have you considered that you all may be cursed and that I’m trying to help you?”

Wild tucks his thumbs into his belt. “Legend did raise that one, yeah.”

“What if he’s right?” Time practically pleads.

“What if you’re not?” Wild says right back, any trace of his usually playful personality completely wiped from his voice. “What if you really are cursed, Time?”

Time doesn’t really know what he expected. Curses are funny things, after all. He can try all he likes, but it’s extremely difficult to use words alone to break one that has this much control over the state of mind.

He draws his sword, looking at Wild, who stares back with that stoic look once again.

Words choke in his throat: pleas for Wild to listen to him, logical arguments for why what he’s doing will help, furious rants at this whole situation. In a way, he’s glad they’re stuck in his throat, for none of them will help here.

Time just shakes his head and stalks forward, trying to desensitise himself to what he has to do. Pulling his punches… well, that clearly isn’t going to get him anywhere. He has fairies in his pouch. As much as he doesn’t want to do this, he’s running out of time.

Wild launches into motion, a wooden ladle manifesting from the Slate as he lunges straight through Time’s guard. There’s a loud crack as he brings the ladle down hard and sharp against Time’s wrists, and Time swears violently, staggering back as his sword hits the ground. The head of the ladle lands next to it, vanishing into the long grass.

For a moment, there’s silence. Time stares wide-eyed at Wild, who actually grins back, utterly elated. Then his ocarina is back in his hands.

Have to try again.

“Time, wait!”

- Seventeen -

“When the fuck did Twilight teach you the Mortal Draw?!” Time almost shouts the words, interrupting Wild’s usual question.

For some reason, Wild inexplicably brightens. “Oh, he didn’t. I know if I asked, Twi would be all ‘no cub, I’ve seen the bullshit you pull, I’m not teaching you that’, so I’ve been trying to get it right for months now! It finally worked?!”

Are you kidding me?

No one really talks about Wild’s rather vast repertoire of weapon mastery, rivalled only by Warriors and Legend's. It’s something they’ve all kind of acknowledged but never seen the need to bring up.

And yet Time had not been expecting him to teach himself the Hidden Skills just from watching Time and Twilight. Despite the situation and the frustration at being back here again, pride does curl in his chest, warm and bright.

“You need to let the enemy get closer for it to be truly effective.” He finds himself saying, because well… critique is critique and Wild had been sloppy. It had been Time’s complacency in the resets that had given him the advantage. “If an enemy sees you trying to clear the distance to perform the move, then it’ll be on guard and you’ll lose your advantage.”

Wild nods, clearly taking his advice to heart, and smiles. “Thanks, Time.”

“Now, will you let me past?”

Time doesn’t really know why he bothers asking, especially when Wild just looks at him. He sighs and unsheathes his sword again, carefully stalking closer. Wild watches, face falling blank, gaze flitting between the blade in Time’s hands and his eye.

“I am sorry.” Time offers. It sounds weak and paltry even to his ears.

Wild quirks up the corner of his mouth, a tiny chip in his intensely focused state. “I am too.”

And then there’s a wooden ladle slamming into Time’s hands again, Golden Goddesses above!

Time reels backwards, watching as Wild casts a sad look at the now broken ladle, before that grin reappears on his face.

“I,” Time tells him, trying to fill his voice with as much frustration as he possibly can, “am going to make sure Twilight never teaches you the Hidden Skills. Or even performs them around you.”

“Like that will stop me!” Wild’s laughter nearly drowns out the lilting notes of Time’s ocarina. “Oh shit, Time, wait!”

Have to try again.

- Twenty -

Trying to catch Wild off-guard by charging straight into the fight as soon as he can doesn’t work.

Wild, with the same grounded, immovable stance he takes when a Lynel is barrelling towards him at top speed, catches the first swing against his shield and parries without even blinking.

Time knows it’s over before he even feels the gentle ticking of Wild’s magic.

Need to try again.

“Time, wait!”

- Twenty Two -

Time uses his bow exactly once. It goes about as well as he expected, though he does have to at least thank Wild for not using elemental arrows in response.

Need to try again.

“Time, wait!”

- Twenty Six -

“You doing all right there, Time? You don’t look so good.”

There’s a strain along his brow which is on its way towards a headache, but Time doesn’t care to think about it at the moment. There are more important things to worry about and deal with.

“I’m fine, Wild. Move aside.”

He twists the megaton hammer in his hands, eyeing up Wild’s stance. As stupidly obvious as it sounds, the hammer is more than heavy enough to cause tremors when it strikes the ground. Maybe, just maybe, that’s his way past. That could be the best way to throw Wild off balance.

Not like it isn’t worth a shot at this point.

Time hefts the hammer up as he charges and slams it down. Wild hops to the side as the ground beneath them shakes with the force of the blow. Then there’s that gentle ticking pulse of Wild’s magic and the hammer is torn from his grip.

Maybe screaming in frustration would be a good idea. Time keeps it in the back of his mind, just in case.

Need to try again.

“Time, wait!”

- Twenty Nine -

Wild tilts his head as Time approaches, looking somewhat concerned.

“I’m fine.” Time says before he can even ask. His head is starting to hurt now but he doesn’t have the time to worry about it. He can rest later; right now, everything inside of him is focused on getting past Wild.

“If you say so.” Wild responds dubiously, tapping an anxious beat against his thigh with his fingers.

Time lunges, unsheathing his sword as he covers the distance between them, and swings it out in a wide arc. Wild darts backwards, still strapping his shield to his arm, and side-steps the downward strike Time tries to catch him with.

“Why can’t you just get out of the way?!” Time hisses at him, gripping the hilt with both hands and leaping upwards.

“Uh you of all people should know the answer to that.” Wild points out, as though Time’s somehow missed the stubbornness that seems to run in the family.

He hops to the side of Time’s jump slash, flurry rush already ticking in their ears, and the Biggoron sword is ripped from Time’s hands.

Need to try again.

“Time, wait!”

- Thirty Three -

“How many times is this?” Wild’s eyebrows furrow and he leans forward a bit to look at Time’s face. “Are you okay? You look horrible.”

“Thank you, Wild, I live to impress.” Time says dryly. He does rub his fingers against the side of his temple, where that earlier strain has become an aching knotted muscle. It’s nothing serious but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying.

“You’ve used that ocarina a lot, I’m guessing.” Wild plucks at the hem of his tunic, looking worried. “It’s not draining you or anything, right?”

Despite the circumstances, Time manages to appreciate the concern, especially given Wild’s complete lack of knowledge about magic. When Legend had learned that he uses physical stamina to control his champion ability when letting arrows fly mid-air, he’d nearly had a conniption.

Time shakes his head. “The ocarina has its own magic; it’s not using mine.”

It’s a huge blessing, considering how powerful the ocarina actually is and all that it’s capable of doing. While Legend and Hyrule are the most magically attuned of them all, Time does have his own rather large pool of magic, but it would still be a different story entirely if he was powering the resets from his own reserves.

“For what it’s worth given this,” Wild waves a hand to their general surroundings and situation, “I am glad to hear that.”

“Enough to let me past?” Time asks wryly.

Just because the ocarina is a separate entity doesn’t mean the resets don’t have an effect on him and by the Three, he’s tired. If he didn’t know that what he needed to do was so important, Time would consider a break. Even going back a little bit further just to rest up would be a wonderful thing.

If only he could go back to the start of all this and avoid it all together, find that spell before the rest of the Chain can be cursed. But that had been six days ago and the ocarina can only do so much when wielded by someone who isn’t part of the Royal Family.

“Ah, no.” Wild shakes his head. The movement catches the afternoon sun, casting an odd glow across his scars.

Figures.

Time’s starting to run out of ideas, if he’s being completely honest, and the frustration about being here again isn’t helping, serving only to cloud his judgement and delay his reaction times.

Head-on approaches are not going to work, he’s more than ready to admit that now. He can’t sneak around to try and find another entrance because when they explored the temple six days ago, it had been largely crumbling to pieces, leaving only one way in and out. And any other kind of detour will cost him precious seconds he can’t afford to lose.

Something sparks to life in his mind when he remembers an item that’s been gathering dust in his pouch. What… what if he pretended to give up though? Just long enough to catch Wild off guard. It’s a cheap tactic, but Time’s desperate now. He has to get moving.

Why not? What exactly does he have to lose here?

With a sigh, Time lets his shoulders slump. He unsheathes his sword and holds it out to one side, dropping it into the grass. Both of Wild’s eyebrows rise at that and Time snorts, raising his hands carefully to shoulder-level.

“You’re seriously giving up?” Wild says incredulously.

“I… I can’t get past you.” Time replies softly. “Just… please trust me. I want to help.”

Wild winces at that, flicking his gaze away, and Time takes the chance to slide forward a bit, moving soundlessly through the grass.

“It’s not that we don’t think that you do,” Wild says, his eyes now dropping to the ground, and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s just we need you to trust us too. I know that you think there’s nothing wrong with you, but you’ve been acting off all week, Time. We just want to help.”

Time moves forward another few inches, closer and closer. He drops a hand to his waist, slipping it into his pouch. His fingers close around the rough wooden shell of a Deku nut.

“I know you all do,” he says, “and I’m sorry for this.”

Wild lets out a quiet snort. “Not as sorry as I am for this.”

In a flash, he moves, grabbing an arrow from his quiver and hurling it at the ground. Time has exactly one second to recognise the spiky yellow arrowhead and try to throw himself back, before the shock arrow hits the ground and sparks to life.

Small electric currents dance up Time’s gauntlets, not enough to stun or cause serious damage but enough to make him flinch back and hiss in pain.

Wild watches him for a long moment, shield on his arm once more. “You don’t even realise how bad it is, do you? You didn’t even notice that you were giving yourself away.”

He gestures to the ground with his free hand where their shadows point past Wild – every movement obvious and clear as though Wild had been looking straight at him. Time snarls in anger; foiled by a literal shadow, are you kidding me?!

“I am not cursed, Wild.” He shakes out the last of the electricity from his hands and goes for his pouch.

“That’s not a mistake you ever make, Time.” Wild says sharply, anger warping his face into something hard and cold. “Are you really going to ignore that?!”

Time cradles the ocarina in his hands and meets Wild’s gaze. “I am going to fix this.”

“Are you even listening to me? To yourself?! Time!”

Need to try again.

“Time, wait!”

- Thirty Four -

Time tries to fake-surrender again. Throwing the Deku nut as soon as he can has surprisingly worse consequences, because Wild responds by using a Lynel bow instead of just throwing the shock arrow, relying on the electrical burst to catch Time while he’s blinded.

Even when he’s not able to see, Wild’s still an annoyingly fantastic shot, and yells at Time to “drink an elixir, you look horrible!”

Try again.

- Thirty Five -

Time goes back to the frontal assault tactic. Straight out of the gate, Time launches into a Jump Strike. Wild leaps back, dodging with ease. Of course he’s still dodging it, aaargh.

Try again.

“Time, wait!”

- Thirty Six -

He knows he’s pushing his luck now. When he had been a child, there had been enough time between uses of the ocarina for him to recover, to not suffer any consequences. He’d been lucky to never experience them but all magic items have a backlash eventually.

Now, of course, he’s in a very different situation and he swears he can feel the strain it’s leaving on his body. The headache that has been brewing beneath his brow for several resets is now pounding in time with his heartbeat, made only worse by the amount of frustration and rage surging through him.

But he can’t afford distractions. He needs to do this!

“Hey, are you feeling okay, Time? Whoa! Okay then!”

Wild just manages to dodge the first few strikes, ducking low to the ground as he straps his shield to his arm. Time presses forward, blade gleaming in the sunlight. He heaves it downwards and Wild darts to the side with hardly a second to spare, the edge of the sword barely missing him. His magic ticks in Time’s ears.

Time gets knocked flat on his back as Wild yanks the Biggoron sword out of his hands, and his head flares in protest. But Time had never stopped trying to do what he had to just because he was hurt.

Try again.

“Time, wait!”

- Thirty Seven -

Time tries to throw everything he has into the fight, hoping a more haphazard style would counter Wild’s champion ability long enough for him to gain the upper hand.

“Dinraal’s flames, Time! Can you just slow down for a second?!” Wild yelps, darting around an uncontrolled blow that swung a bit too high.

He’s not quite fast enough and the tip of Time’s sword cuts a neat line through the shoulder of his tunic. A small patch of red blooms in its wake and Wild claps a hand over it, more out of shock than pain.

Time swallows heavily at the sight of Wild's blood on his sword, but doesn’t drop the blade. “Move.”

Wild stares at him for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then he straightens up and faces Time head-on, cold and harsh. “No.”

“Fucking—just get out of my way, Wild!” Time snaps, stalking forward.

He swirls the sword up, gathering momentum in the blade, and heaves it at Wild, carving through the air. Wild takes a half-step back, letting the sword swing by mere inches from his face. At the peak of its swing, Time changes direction and jabs the Biggoron sword forward, and Wild dodges, the air filling with the soft tick of his magic.

Time grits his teeth as his sword is wrenched from his hands.

It’s this Din-damned headache!

Again.

“Time, wait!”

- Thirty Eight -

“Time, are you okay?! You look horrible.” Wild asks as Time storms towards him.

It’s a fair question. His head is aching but Time can’t stop now, not when he’s sure he’s got an actual strategy. This is the one!

His first haphazard swing does throw Wild off-balance, too diagonal for a backflip or side-hop, and Time tries the jab again, moving as fast as he can while he has the advantage. This time there’s no flurry rush or no soft ticking of magic. What comes instead is a small yelp of pain as the edge of the blade cuts into Wild’s cheek.

There’s no mistaking the horrified look Wild gives him as blood seeps from the cut and trickles down his face. It's not necessary though; the injury alone is enough to make Time’s stomach drop. This isn’t… this definitely is not what he wants, what he’s been trying to do here.

But if it gets Wild to move, some part of him whispers, oily and callous.

“Move.” Time commands again, forcing his hands not to shake.

Wild grabs his shield. “No.”

The continuing defiance, blatant and insolent, ignites something inside Time, and before he realises it, he’s lunging forward, sword raised. Wild stares him down right up until his shield slams into the Biggoron sword and his magic fills the air.

Again.

“Time, wait!”

- Thirty Nine -

This is beyond frustrating. He just… is it so horrible that Time wants them all safe?!

He hits the ground hard after the latest flurry rush, still hearing the soft ticking of Wild’s magic in his ears, and nearly roars with rage.

“Time?” Wild frowns at him, wary and cautious. The cuts on his forearm drip blood off his fingertips and onto the grass at his feet.

“Do not say anything.” Time growls, digging his fingers into the dirt beneath him. He can just feel time slipping away. His window of opportunity to stop all this chaos and madness is closing and he’s still stuck here! For all the progress he’s finally been making against Wild, he’s still getting nowhere!

Wild, being Wild of course, completely ignores the order, hesitantly stepping closer. “How many resets have you had?”

“I’m fine, Wild!”

“Sure.” Wild agrees. “But have you been like this in all of them?”

Time rolls his eye, shoving himself to his feet. “Like what exactly? Frustrated that everyone else is letting themselves be controlled? Infuriated that none of them can snap out of it?!”

“I was going to say ‘upset’, but yeah, let’s go with that.” Whatever distance Wild had covered between them is immediately lost as he skitters back, not looking away from Time’s hands. For some reason, the action grates on Time’s already frayed nerves.

Thankfully, Wild doesn’t say any more. He just watches as Time paces in a futile attempt to burn off some of the irritation building inside him. Why can’t Wild just understand what he’s trying to do?!

“Maybe I should get the Master Sword.” Wild suggests carefully after a long moment of silence, unhooking the Slate from his belt. Despite his efforts to be discreet, Time can still see him wipe his bloody hand against his trousers.

It turns his stomach, but the anger at Wild’s determination to ignore what Time has to say, what he has to do, easily overrides any nausea.

“I am not cursed, Wild!” Time yells, throwing his hands skyward. Yes he may be resetting the last few minutes over and over and over again but if Wild could cotton on to that fact already, that would be great.

Wild nods in what’s probably supposed to be a placating manner, but it instead comes off as patronising. “Yeah but hear me out: it breaks curses, right? Or something like that. So if I’m the one who’s cursed and I hold it, that should solve the problem yeah? And if you try as well, it’ll put my mind at ease too.”

Time rubs his fingers into the sides of his temple, trying to relieve the pressure building up in his skull. “No, I’ve lost too much time here already.”

“I don’t know if resetting is the right decision, Time. You… you really don’t look well.” Wild says, finger still hovering over the screen of the Slate. He actually looks worried, not mildly concerned like he had been earlier.

“I’m fine!” Time snaps again, reaching for his ocarina. His fingers brush over something smooth and cool and he pauses. Considers it for a moment.

Clarity hits him in the face hard and loud. Wait, no that is a horrible idea. Warriors would literally kill him for even entertaining it and then Malon would bring him back and kill him again.

But he needs to do this. He’s so close. He has to try again. As soon as he finds that spell, he can rest. He’s no idiot, he knows the consequences of using that mask. He just… does he want to risk it yet? Risk Malon, risk the Chain, risk everything?

No. For now, he’ll keep his promise.

“Time.”

There’s something in Wild’s tone that makes him pause, something Time would call fear if he heard it from a normal person. When he looks, Wild has one hand stretched out, fingers nervously curled in the air near his shoulder, and oh, it is fear he heard.

Wild swallows. “I am serious, Time. I know you’re worried about us, but I think something is wrong.”

Rage burns in Time’s chest, getting to him before he can even process Wild’s words, and he swats the hand away, snarling out, “If you just let me get past then I can fix it!”

He pulls his ocarina back out and nearly jumps when Wild’s hand clamps down on his wrist. Panic is written all over the Champion’s face.

“Time, please.” He practically begs. “Don’t.”

Again.

- Forty -

Wild stares at him, mouth open in shock, as Time approaches. “Hylia above, Time, you’re bleeding.”

Time swipes a hand against his top lip, which does nothing to stop his blood nose and only smears it across his cheek. “I’m fine. Move out of the way, Wild.”

“How many times have you been here?!” Wild sounds aghast, hovering anxiously just out of arm’s reach. “Does the ocarina always do this?”

The sight just fans the flames of Time’s anger, and he practically rips the Biggoron sword from its scabbard, pointing it in Wild’s direction. Wild doesn’t even dignify the action with acknowledgement, instead staying focused on Time’s face, biting his lip worriedly.

“I think you need to take a break or something. You don’t look—oh shit!” Wild squawks, tripping over himself as he tries dodges Time’s swing. He barely catches himself before he hit the ground, hands pressed against the dirt, and a line of red stains the side of his tunic.

He stares up at Time through a curtain of messy hair in wide-eyed disbelief and horror. “Time!”

“Get out of the way, Wild!” Time roars, words somewhat garbled by his bleeding nose.

Wild rolls past the next swing, scrambling back to his feet, and grabs his shield, holding it up warily.

Time prowls closer. The rage inside him that's been growing through every single reset feels like a physical thing now, coiled around his ribs and pressed against his heart. If Wild would just get out of his fucking way, then this would all be over.

“Time, look, I really don’t want to fight right now.” Wild says, eyes fixed on the sword Time’s holding in an almost lazy grip.

“Then let me past.” Time tells him, voice flat. “I need to get into that temple.”

He heaves out the Biggoron sword again and Wild dances backwards. There’s no gentle pulse of a flurry rush, no activation of his magic, so Time presses his advantage. This time for sure.

It’s a mockery of the earlier resets; Wild darting backwards, staying just out of range of Time's sword, but now Time doesn’t care what he has to do. He’s pushed himself too far, reset too many times, and he is going to get past Wild no matter what.

Of course just as he lets himself think that, Wild’s shield goes up and all Time can feel is his magic.

Furious, Time grabs his ocarina.

Again.

“Time, wait!”

- Forty One -

“Hylia above, Time, you’re bleeding.” Wild stares at him, slack-jawed and worried.

Time doesn’t bother to answer now. He knows how to get past now; he’d been so close before. He won't give up.

Wild is complacent, as he is every reset. To the Champion, Time isn’t an opponent he has to fear: he’s one to expect routine from, someone who follows protocols or, at the very least, someone who conveys his intentions from the beginning of a battle.

And that had been Time’s problem. He’s a fool for not realising it sooner, for not understanding the answer to his earlier question is blindingly obvious.

How do you beat someone who’s at his strongest when he knows exactly how you fight? How do you beat someone like Wild who throws himself at an enemy again and again and again until he’s ingrained single pattern they could possibly have into his mind?

You don’t give him a chance to learn a new pattern.

Somewhere inside him, Time hates what he’s about to do. Hates what they’re both going to remember him doing. But he just needs to get past.

The moment he’s close enough, Time rips his sword from its sheath and heaves it upwards, giving Wild no warning. Wild, eyes wide and face full of shock, tries throwing himself sideways, but Time can feel when the edge of his blade cuts into his skin.

Wild stumbles back, one hand pressing against the long, bleeding cut on his chest and shoulder and stares at Time. The shock from past resets is still there, but what hurts the most is the betrayed expression that works its way onto his face. 

The expression put there by the knowledge that Time had attacked him without hesitation.

The accusation, silent and wordless, sits heavy on Time’s conscience, but he can’t allow himself to think about it. He lunges forward, closing the gap between them as quickly as he can. He reaches a hand out, trying to snag Wild’s tunic in his grasp. He’s so close.

Wild snaps into action. He shoves his arm out, elbow slamming into Time’s wrist and knocking it aside. He slides forward, ducking inside Time’s guard, and Time feels his fingers brush against the hilt of the Biggoron sword. The momentum from Wild’s shove had flung his right arm back, giving Time no chance to grab onto Wild and throw him back. But…

Time spins with the force of the shove, tightening his grip on the sword, and slams the flat of the blade hard into Wild’s injured shoulder. Wild staggers to the side, nearly dropping to one knee with a pained yell choked in his throat. Time goes on the offensive. He’s so close!

He swings the Biggoron sword downwards and Wild barely manages to scramble out of the way, retreating a few steps down the path towards the temple. He stands there for a moment, staring Time down, chest heaving and shirt bloody.

“Move.” Time commands.

“No.” Wild spits back, defiant and furious.

“I will get past you,” Time promises, “and it's up to you whether you’re still standing or not when I do.”

Wild raises his chin, issuing a silent challenge, and takes up his shield. Something in his expression goes hard and cold.

With a roar, Time throws himself forward, tip of his sword cutting a line through the grass and leaves as he charges. Wild manages to sidestep his first upswing at the last second, shield tucked close to his body, and dances around the horizontal slash Time throws himself into.

Time works to keep the attacks as uncoordinated and haphazard as possible, using the momentum of each swing to lead into the next. Incandescent fury pounds in his ears. Wild barely manages to stay out of the way of the onslaught, eyes flitting around and cataloguing every movement Time makes.

It's useless, Time knows. There’s no pattern for him to follow.

But that doesn’t stop his magic from tick tick ticking in their ears when he does find the opening he had been searching for, backflipping over a strike that went a little too wide.

Time hits the ground hard, sword torn from his hands. His vision whites out as his head throbs, protesting the abrupt change in position, and sends pain shooting through his body like lightning.

When it passes, Wild is standing near him, Slate in one hand and eyes wide. “W-what’s happening? Is this normal?! Are… are you okay?”

The hesitancy and nervousness in his voice and his body language stings, burrowing into Time's heart like a knife.

“Time?” Wild inches closer, carefully sinking to his knees. “I think you need to stop. Please. Something’s wrong.”

For the first time since this all started six days ago, Time lets himself consider the proposition. He… really does want to stop, wants to get away from this pain and this rage. He's at the point where he doesn’t care if the Chain finds the tablet and destroy it and the world.

Wild’s right; something is wrong.

But that’s what we're trying to fix, something in his mind points out.

Is that right? Time tries to remember, searching through the rage-filled fog that’s begun to enshroud his mind. There’s… there’s something in the temple. He knows there is. He needs to get to it. He needs to get past Wild.

Wild’s not looking at him, tapping at the Slate frantically. Time reaches for his ocarina.

One more try, the something inside him says, that’s all we need.

“Wind, c’mon, pick up pick up pick up, please, I need you guys to hurry and pick up, wait Time, don’t you dare touch that!”

- Forty Two -

Everything feels wrong. Time doesn’t quite understand what, but there's... something is off. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog that’s seeped into his mind and muddled his thoughts.

The temple, something prompts him eventually. We need to get to the temple.

Yes. The temple. He needs to go there to fix something. Time starts walking, some kind of muscle memory taking over and guiding him in the right direction.

The pathway curves, revealing the open entrance to the temple and someone with sunlit blue tunic.

Wild.

Right. How… why had he forgotten about Wild being here?

His concern is squashed by a wave of calm. It doesn’t matter why. Just got to get past him.

Okay. Just got to get past Wild.

A memory rises unbidden to the forefront of his mind; the sloping surface of the Fierce Deity mask under his fingers, and Time hesitates. That… the mask is not something he wants to ever use again, not something he wants to lose himself to ever again. But… he has to get past Wild, right?

The memory of the mask dances in front of his eyes, oddly forceful. His hand is reaching for the mask before he can stop himself, drawing it from his pouch. Time stares down at it, taking in the curse markings that match the ones that adorn half his face, and his stomach churns. Is this really the best idea?

“Time?” Wild’s voice calls and he glances up, vision going fuzzy.

Wild is looking at the mask, lips pressed into such a thin line that they’re bloodless; then he tears his eyes away to meet Time’s gaze. “Hylia above, Time, you look awful. Wait, you’re bleeding! What happened?!”

“I’m fine.” Time says softly, and Wild lets out a sardonic snort.

“Okay, sure. Why are you holding that mask?” There’s a dangerous edge in Wild’s words and his eyes are focused back on the Fierce Deity mask.

Why is he holding it?

“I need it.” Time tries to be confident in the statement but everything just feels wrong.

“Maybe you should put it away?” Wild suggests.

It sounds like a fantastic idea but something inside Time recoils at the thought. That familiar rage bubbles up in his stomach. How dare Wild say that, the Something whispers. We need this to get to the temple.

“I don’t think I should.” Time finally answers.

“Okay then.” Wild nods, sharp and jerky. Has he always been this close? Time can’t remember. “Listen to me, Time. Wars said that if I see that thing, I need to take you down instantly. And given that you look like shit, I don’t think that’s going to be that hard. So here’s the plan: you put that down. Now please.”

“No, I need it.” Time finds himself saying, clutching the edges of the mask tighter. “I need to get to the temple.”

“Are you—” Wild cuts himself off with a sharp, shaky inhale of air and steps closer. “Okay, how about this then: put the mask down and we can go to the temple together? I… you really don’t look well. I can help you get there.”

We should put the mask on, the Something suggests, and then we’ll be strong enough to get to the temple.

Despite how it makes his stomach churn, Time nods along with the logic. It would solve his problem, even if he doesn’t like it. The Fierce Deity would be able to get him into the temple to do… to fix… he has to fix something.

He looks at the mask, his arm lifting it up towards his face and wants to vomit.

A hand locks onto Time’s wrist, vice-like and unforgiving in strength, and stops the movement. Wild is there, panic and fear bright in his eyes, and carefully starts to pry Time’s fingers off of the mask. Time lets him, oddly muted. Everything feels… muffled. Quieter. Distant.

“Wild, there’s something wrong.” He manages to say.

“No shit.” Wild agrees, gently taking the mask out of his hand.

Time sways violently, the Something writhing around inside him and snarling with anger. He feels hands grab for him in a frantic scramble to hold him upright, but his legs apparently have decided to stop working and his knees buckle.

“Time! Time, hey! Can you hear me?!”

Everything feels foggy and disconnected, almost as though he’s floating untethered from the world. Then something in the fog grabs onto him and it burns. Fire swells up, eating its way along his body and leaving everything screaming in its wake.

“Oh shit, Time?! Fuck! Uh, okay you know what? Sky can yell at me later, I’m trying this.”

Barely felt over the fire consuming him, a new something – something that doesn’t belong to the fog – takes his hands, trying to manoeuvre his burning body. His fingers are pressed closed, holding onto something, and light plunges into his mind, flaring bright and sharp and holy.

The fog recoils, digging into his mind, and the light only grows stronger. The purge, when it does happen, is excruciating. He might scream. He’s not sure. There’s nothing to hear or see or feel other than the burning and the light.

As quickly as it came, the light retracts with a soft kind sigh, leaving everything dark and quiet. Time slips away without complaint.

It takes him a while to claw out of the darkness but when he does, Time really would just prefer to be unconscious again. His whole body feels heavy; the type of sensation he would normally associate with severe blood loss which… might have happened? Maybe?

He's not quite sure. His mind feels slow and hazy, the remnants of sleep clinging on to his thoughts and making them move slower than normal.

Underneath the heaviness in his limbs is a more familiar bone-deep ache; something that speaks of pushing himself too far past his limits. Every inch of his body hurts, screaming at him to go back to the darkness until it can get its shit together. Even opening his eye to stare up at the tent canvas above him hurts ooowwww.

He blinks, once, twice, then rolls his head to the side. Oh, that might be why he feels heavy.

Wind is curled under his arm like a cat, using his shoulder as a pillow. For Time, the War of Eras was many years ago, but this is still a familiar sight. The memories of Wind literally wrangling with his younger self in an attempt to get him to sleep are ones Time will cherish for the rest of his life.

When Time gathers the energy to look to his left, he’s met by Twilight and Wild, both asleep and as close to him as they can get. Much like Wind, Wild has pressed up against Time’s side, with his fingers pressing into the pulse point at Time’s wrist.

Twilight, who’s clearly learnt from experience, is settled with his chin on the top of Wild’s head – thus avoiding waking up with hair in his face – and has flung an arm over Wild’s shoulders. His palm rests on Time’s chest, right above his heart.

Oh, that’s not a good sign. As horrible as he's feeling right now, it's clear that he was worse.

But, underneath all that, Time just feels... shocked. Surprised may be the better word. Because would it be horrible to say Time didn't expect Wild to be anywhere near him?

Most… most of what had happened is hazy, the memories familiar but foreign in his mind, as though everything was happening to someone else and Time had been a nothing more than a spectator.

But he remembers drawing blood. Drawing Wild’s blood. Repeatedly. He remembers the sharp edge of his sword glinting red in the sunlight. And he remembers Wild's betrayed look, all stunned and hurt, put there by the devastating truth that Time would willingly attack and injure him.

Time's breath catches in his throat, leaving his lips in an unsteady exhale. 

It may not have happened to anyone but Time, may have been wiped from everyone else’s memories, but the image of Wild’s blood on his sword and knowing that it was him who put it there is not one that will leave him any time soon.

Fuck, how is he supposed to look Wild in the eye and pretend he doesn’t know what cutting him with a sword feels like?

“Sprite? You awake?” Warriors’ head pops into Time’s line of sight.

He looks exhausted: his hair all dishevelled and the skin under his eyes dark with lack of sleep. It’s a portent of doom when Warriors looks that messy outside of battle. The pressure to keep up the façade imposed upon him doesn’t let him go very easily.

“Unfortunately.” Time croaks, shoving the thoughts swirling around in his mind away and grabbing onto the current moment with both hands. He needs normalcy, something regular and safe. He can’t think about the details of what had happened right now, he can’t.

He feels Warriors’ blessedly cool hand rest against his forehead and forces himself to take a breath. “What happened?”

Warriors sighs. “You got cursed. We fixed it but you still nearly killed yourself in the process. Or the curse tried to kill you at least. You didn’t have much magic left and your body was shutting down.”

That’s… not what Time meant but, well, it’s something safe so he doesn’t correct Warriors. Maybe later he’ll look back at the memories, see them for what really happened rather instead of through the lens of that fog. For now, he makes himself focus on the simple details, not what lies beneath the surface.

There’s a light tug on his fringe and Time refocuses on Warriors, whose face has twisted into something sour and upset. He crosses his arms. “Don’t think I didn’t hear about the mask, Time.”

Yet another memory Time unfortunately had not lost to the hazy shroud; the cool feel of the Fierce Deity mask in his hands and the pit in his stomach as it got closer to his face. He swallows, twitching his limbs just to make sure they’re still his. “I wouldn’t, I told you.”

Warriors just sighs again, one hand shifting to cup the back of Time’s head and the other reaching for a waterskin. It says a lot about how long he’s been unconscious for when no one wakes as Warriors helps him sip the water.

“I know.” Warriors says eventually, a stifled yawn cracking against the last syllable. “How many times did you use the ocarina?”

“Uh…” Time has to actually think about it. The resets are blurry and meshed together, but he doesn’t expect them to ever become coherent. “Not sure. Less than fifty, I think. I hope.”

“Legend thinks that the curse was able to progress every time you used it.” Warriors tells him in that flat, rapid tone he used in strategy meetings to deliver orders. “He swears it shouldn’t have gotten that bad that quickly.”

“How’d you break it?” Time asks, finally giving up on actually looking at things and closing his eye again. Oh that’s actually a lot better.

“It was some kind of Poe or ghost that fed off of magic. Ledge thinks the curse was meant to draw you back to it so it could completely drain you. Sky used the Master Sword to kill it once we found it.”

One of Warriors’ hands returns to its spot on Time's forehead while the other ever-so-gently presses against the pulse at his throat. “Wild said you collapsed and seized while he was getting the mask away from you – which we’re guessing happened because Sky killed the Poe –, so he used the Slate to call the Master Sword to him and made you hold onto it for good measure.”

Time hums. He remembers the burning, how he felt like that strange rage was trying to tear him apart. “A good idea. It did not want to let go.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Warriors snorts, an ugly harsh sound that somehow manages to sound more worried than annoyed. “You’ve been unconscious for nearly four days.”

That would explain a lot, if Time is honest with himself. It's been a long time since his magic had been this overworked, and it's easy to tell he's still got a few more days of recovery ahead of him.

"It's definitely going to be longer than four days." He tells Warriors with a resigned sigh. "You should sleep too, though. You look like crap.”

“Thanks.” Warriors huffs, sarcasm almost tangible in his voice. He makes an abrupt noise in the back of his throat and tugs on Time's hair again. "Wait, did you say nearly fifty resets?"

There's something... odd in his tone, an off-beat Time doesn't know how to respond to. But right now, he really doesn't want to think about what had just happened, so he lets out a short, forced chuckle and says, "Don't you dare tell them. I was cursed!"

There's no reply to his attempt at a joke, so Time opens his eye again. Warriors has his head tilted, eyebrows creased together in his trademarked analytical expression. His gaze goes from Time to Wild and then back again.

Time frowns; the look reigniting the concern he'd just managed to push away. Does... does he even want to know what Warriors is thinking about? Is that a conversation he wants to try stomaching right now?

“Warriors?” He finally asks, the name leaving him as a barely audible whisper.

With a shake of his head, Warriors breaks out of his trance, blinking rapidly as though he'd quite literally forgotten where he was. “Don’t worry about it for now, Sprite. I need to talk to Legend about something. Just… get some rest for now.”

To add insult to injury, his lips move upwards into that fake ‘Captain Link will handle this’ smile; the one that only works at a distance.

Time tries to fix his expression into something unimpressed and Warriors just sighs in response. "Would you, for five minutes, stop worrying about everyone else and try to rest? I swear it's not important right now."

While Time would prefer to push Warriors into telling him whatever is on his mind, terrified of what dots he's connected, his whole body still feels like one gigantic bruise and his mind is too tired to pry. He breathes out harshly through his nose. "Fine. But only if you try to get some sleep too. You need it."

Warriors rolls his eyes, finally managing a genuine smile. “Okay, fine, Mask. Twist my arm, why don't you?”

He crawls over to settle in against Wind, who makes a noise of protest and curls tighter into Time’s side, and sends Time a sarcastic smirk. "Happy?"

"Thrilled."

“Yeah, you look it. Now go to sleep.”

Time snorts at the playfully snappy tone, and closes his eye.

There are things he has to face tomorrow, actions he needs to apologise for whether they are remembered or not. He needs to talk to Wild properly, needs to ensure he never sees that horrified and betrayed look on his face for as long as he lives. Needs to make sure that it's an expression none of them ever have to wear.

But those are things to deal with tomorrow.

For now, surrounded by those he cares for and who care for him, Time feels sleep come for him easily.

“Champion, are you sure about this?”

“Huh, what? Yeah, of course. I’m not gonna make you, Twi or Wind do it; I know what Time means to you guys.”

“That’s not what I meant, though I do appreciate it. But are you—”

“Wars, I know nothing of magic. I won’t be of any use in here unless you happen to want something to explode, in which case everyone else is also capable of that. Let me handle this.”

“Obtuse is not a good look on you, Wild; you know what I’m getting at here.”

“Shows what you know; obtuse is a fantastic look on me. What do I need to watch out for?”

“Are you seriou– Fine. There’s a mask.”

“It’s Time. Of course there’s a mask.”

“Don’t be a smartass. It’s got markings that match the ones on Time’s face. If you see it, do not let him put it on no matter what, do you understand?”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“Fuck, that salute was horrible.”

“Ugh, yeah it really was. But hey now you’re trying not to smile, so it’s absolutely worth it.”

“You’re such a little shit. Just keep him out there as long as possible. Hopefully once we find and destroy the source of this curse, he’ll go back to normal.”

“Captain.”

“What is it?”

“You really think he’ll use that ocarina?”

“I don’t know what this curse might make him do. I’d just rather you be ready for it than not. And Wild?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful. You’ve seen how he’s been acting since we left this place. Don’t expect him to be the same as he always is.”

“It’ll be fine, Warriors. Have some faith.”

“I’m leaving that to you and Sky, thanks.”

“I’m sure Sky can spare enough faith for you blasphemers then.”

“You say that, but Legend’s with us.”

“Fine, I’ll say a prayer for you all as well.”

“Your benevolence and magnanimity will get me through the rest of the day.”

“Now who’s the little shit? Ow okay, I’m going, I’m going. Don’t blow anything up without me.”

“Hey, Wild? Just…”

“You seriously don’t need to say anything. I volunteered to do this, remember? I’m not going to regret that.”

“Don't you dare say it's better you do this than any of us; you know it's not true.”

“... Of course it isn't. See you later, Captain.”