Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

About five minutes into his walk around the Gerudo market, Link realized they were somewhere near his own era: there were slaves for sale.

Fuck, he wished he’d been wrong.

He kept walking, keeping his face mild. His ears and hair were wrapped in a scarf, letting him pass as a pale skinned sister. They’d guess he was Hylian, but many Hylian slaves could progress from slave to family, sister or wife out of growing affection or kind owners who sometimes bought slaves specifically to free them. A few sellers guessed he was there to free someone, and he could see them recalculating how much they’d charge him accordingly.

In his own time, where he was (to some degree, in truth) Nabooru’s freed sister, that had also been true, although with their King’s disapproval and the civil war looming over their heads, contemporary markets that would permit selling slaves were few.

But, here and now, likely before his time, the market and their brothers-in-arms missing a companion for over a day... Link was very much afraid he’d find him here.

He almost missed him. A seller near the end, one selling slaves with fresh bruises and tight cuffs, was chatting over the heads of three youths, all teen boys. Link could quickly discard two of the three: too dark of hair, too young, and the last was staring at his lap almost frozen in place compared to the others.

Link nearly kept walking, until the incongruity of his colouring struck him: tanned legs, but pale arms, blond and pink hair, but not in the way of his own, half-grown-out dye. Only one lock, before his right ear. Link stopped and crouched to see his face: to see how badly hurt he was.

His neck was still bruised from being held, but what Link saw first was the earrings. They must've used healing potion on them: the skin wasn't badly swollen, not anymore, but Link knew very well the Hero of Legend didn't have pierced ears for a very good reason. He touched the other man's chin, trying to catch his eye, and the seller cut in.

"Be careful, he's not broken yet."

Link looked away from Legend's terrified gaze and stood to meet her eyes. "Obviously," he signed, in Gerudo sign, and watched her understand. "He's my companion. I will take him with me."

The woman scoffed. "As if I'm letting a slave make off with a slave."

Link grit his teeth. He could respond a lot of ways; this was a fight he was absolutely prepared to win, especially this close to the edge of the market. But Legend had his hands in cuffs and wasn't responding well. If he could leave without a fight...

He didn't even try to argue. He just drew his golden sword and held it out, sweetly, to let the woman see the inscription on the blade, it's maker's mark. She took it, wary at first, and very soon after her face went white with shock.

"How did you get this? I've never seen the work before. They only said they'd make weapons for their daughters."

"Daughter-in-law," Link signed, and took it back. Instead of sheathing it, he stepped back and tapped the gemstone to split the blade in two to flourish the blades and their legitimate magic before sealing them to one and sheathing it again. "Now, can I have his things?"

"You could have stolen it," the woman snapped.

"Are they here?" If this was close to his time, they weren't far from the Temple where they lived.

She smirked. "Yes."

Link smiled sweetly right back. "Then go get them."

He waited. He crouched again, but after what Legend had heard of their argument Link wasn't surprised he'd retreated deeper into himself and wasn't responding to any attempts to get his attention. Little surprise, after hearing only that the woman who kidnapped him was accusing a new buyer of being a slave and a thief.

A girl -- daughter or slave -- ran off from the stall. Link straightened and looked over their other wares . Likely they still had most of Legend's items somewhere inside, although there was no way for him to confirm none of the rings for sale weren't his. He'd have to ask Rabbit to confirm it, given Legend was in no condition to say.

"How long have you had him for?" he asked instead, while they waited for the girl to return.

"Most of a day. He cleaned up well, so you're robbing me of a decent investment."

"Not my problem." Link waved it off and rolled his eyes. "You'd have saved yourself some effort not throwing a good two hundred rupees in his ears."

"Kept him quiet."

Link was sure it had, given his reaction to stitches in the past and lack of earrings. He remembered -- painfully -- when his own were done under much the same circumstances, although the second time around had been better.

Anticipating it, and wanting it, helped.

He could tell when the witches came: they brought with them a wash of dry heat, the desert winds for which they were named and which they carried in their bones. Once, they'd terrified him. Now, he was angry but it was a quiet, dull anger easily quelled with the reminder that these two, for all he knew, didn't even have a child yet.

As they came up, he bowed. "Mothers."

The witches looked at each other, then him. "Daughter. What is this?"

"I regret one of your experiments stranded me in the past. I'm working to fix it, but my companion here was taken and I came to retrieve him." Link pulled his sword again and offered it once more, without any doubt they'd recognize their own work.

Indeed, the immediate reaction went straight past 'is this ours' to arguing which one of them was the main architect. Link had no answer, and less interest. He looked at the seller again, and saw the only confirmation he needed: she looked more than a little nauseous.

Who wouldn't be? Link fought down a bitter smile. She'd angered the witches' daughter, after all. Not even the Gerudo took the tempers of their Desert Winds incarnate lightly.

"The key?" Link signed to her. "And his things."

The woman swallowed audibly and retreated without another word.

Now the problem was getting his sword back. He cleared his throat, and Koume looked up quickly and beamed. She stepped up and kissed him on each cheek, then stepped back to look him over with approval.

"You said we sent you back here?"

"Yes," Link smiled sweetly, eliding most details. They didn't need to know, and frankly he didn't want or need their help. "It displaced me and my companions in time. I know what I need to do to fix it, but I'd rather not lose someone while I'm at it."

"Of course. How did we do this...?"

Link smiled tightly. "I should focus on my friend first, please? I can come see you in the morning, after he's settled with the others?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Kotake, give her back her sword."

Link took the blade gratefully and bowed to them again, sheathing it before turning to crouch before Legend once more. The other man was still, persistently, staring at the ground but his expression had changed from numb horror to fear. Maybe anger.

Well at least he was hearing the conversation.

Still, he had to get him to look at him if he was going to get him to calm down. Unfortunately nothing he was trying seemed to work. Finally, he gave in and pinched his arm, hard. Legend's head snapped up, teeth bared, and he stared him dead in the face with no sign of recognition.

Link signed, as bluntly as he could, "I'm getting you out. Okay?"

Legend looked uneasily from his face to the witches behind him. His eyes widened, but there was still no sign at all he'd recognized him among the other Gerudo around him.

This was going to be interesting.

"Here," the seller said. She shoved a heavy canvas bag at him, and Link took it and didn't try to dig through it, not yet. "Take it. Get out of my sight. Give me back the cuffs."

Link gladly obliged, taking the key and undoing the shackles on his ankles and wrists without another word. Legend started to move and stopped, a nauseous moan starting in his throat. Link touched his shoulder, scared he was more seriously hurt than he thought, and the other man whirled on him and punched him dead on the cheek.

Koume and Kotake hissed in fury. "How dare you--"

Link held up one hand and glared back at them; it barely left a bruise. Legend had collapsed again, retching and twisting his head, as though his balance was off.

No: as though he could stop the heavy gold hoops rocking somehow.

Fuck .

Link exhaled hard and crouched by him again. He laid one hand on his shoulder and finally took hold of his jaw to turn his head to face him.

"I'm taking off the earrings," he signed.

There was no response.

Well he had to get them somehow.

"What did you give him?" Kotake snapped at the seller.

"I didn't give him anything! He's just frail!"

Legend curled up tighter on the ground. Link grit his teeth. He didn't want to rip the earrings out of his ears, but the odds he'd jerk away from his touch were high. Legend didn't have to like him; he could probably not make things much worse.

He still didn't want to do it here.

Link slung the canvas bag over one shoulder and took hold of Legend by the arm instead, pulling him to his feet. The Hero of Legend was a few inches shorter than him and slender, so it didn't take much. The movement wasn't helping his state of mind, but Link simply nodded to the witches, ignored the seller and dragged him out the near end of the market hoping to get at least some distance before anything worse happened.

He made it about fifty feet into the desert before Legend lost it. He jerked his arm free with a strained cry and dug his nails into the side of his face, just shy of the hoops he didn't seem capable of touching. Link hissed and grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands down only to get cursed at instead.

"Let go, let go of me !"

Link snapped his tongue like he might to scold a horse, but it was useless: there was no way for him to talk or get through to him, and no chance they'd make it back to either camp, his own or theirs. There was blood running down his face from his nails, and if he kept panicking, he might hit his eye.

It wasn't as much space as he'd hoped, but it was going to have to do.

Link forced Legend to the ground, hands behind his back and knelt on his wrists, precarious or not, so he could get both hands on the earrings. He pulled off the outer ones first, two studs, in hopes he'd process what he was doing before he had to do the worst part. The smaller hoops were easy, thin wire that popped free of the back with a little twist... But even that much movement nearly brought Legend to sobs.

(That, or being pinned was doing it, but he was so close to done...)

The largest hoops were the worst. The metal did not want to bend, the gold over a core of something lighter but much harder to move. The only upside was he'd been right, they had used a healing potion at least on his ears so there wasn't any blood.

It was the only upside, as Legend whimpered again. "Let go," he whispered. "Let me up, please ."

He sounded exhausted. Link felt exhausted and the angle wasn't working. He gave up, nauseous himself at holding him this long, and just backed away : it was, at least, the first time Legend had directly addressed Link since he found him .

Legend jerked upright and pushed himself away on the rough sand, looking frantically for who had hurt him. Link waited, well out of reach, and gave in to the thought to throw him a sheathed knife of his own. Legend lunged for it, clutching it close and staring until Link remembered to pull down the scarf around his hair so he could see him more clearly.

There was almost no point. Legend took the knife and looked, frantically for anywhere to hide but the desert gave him nothing. He staggered a few steps further then gave up and collapsed, the knife clutched to his chest as he sobbed.

Link hauled the bag with him and walked until he was, once again, in Legend's line of sight. He dropped the bag and crouched to wait.

It did appear that what he'd done had helped: he wasn't clawing at his face anymore, but touching the earrings was too much. His hands flinched away every time they moved too far. After four or five tries, he finally looked around again and caught Link's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Link signed. "I didn't want you to hurt yourself. I can show you how they work...?" He reached to his own earrings, but Legend flinched violently away before he could touch them.

"No," Legend breathed, his voice breathy with stress. "Just get them out. I... I can be good, please, please don't pin me."

Link nodded, already ill again from having to do it. Of course he was begging not to be hurt more. There was no way to know if they'd done anything else to him, because this -- this fear and panic and sheer irrational terror -- would overshadow most anything else. He licked his lips and breathed slowly. "Okay. Sit still, arms in your lap, and chin up. I can get them quickly as long as you don't move."

It took Legend a minute to stop breathing so hard he couldn't sit still, but he managed it for the most part. His eyes followed Link's hands and the moment they moved out of view his breath visibly increased... but he managed it. Upright, with clear access to both sides of the hoop, Link got them out quickly and pocketed them so he didn't have to see them again. As soon as he was done, he made a soothing noise and backed away.

Legend turned to stare at him, but the lack of weight was obvious. "That's all of them?" he begged.

"Yes." There was the risk they'd done other piercings; he had a few others, but he didn't think Legend needed the question. That was something he could address with Chief.

He settled back next to the canvas bag; they weren't going anywhere until Legend could walk, and that wasn't happening soon. Their companions called him "Veteran" a nd Link couldn't help but scoff. The boy wasn't yet twenty; it was almost an insult to remind him how much he'd been through compared to the rest. He was a veteran, yes, but what came of that but scars?

Speaking of, the other man ran his fingers along the line of his ears again and audibly whimpered; he could feel the holes, Link guessed, and his face lost all colour all over again.

The piercings were new enough, hopefully they'd close without a trace soon; a healing potion might have made the bleeding stop, but the skin was still new; still flexible. The potion itself might close them over if he didn't do himself more harm.

To that end, he clicked his tongue loudly and Legend looked up at him with a jump.

"Did they beat you any worse than I can see?" Link asked, and that pulled Legend's attention back to his bruised neck.

"...I don't think so," he said, and swallowed hard.

"We're an hour from my friends," Link said. He looked back towards the market, uneasily, still far too close for his own comfort. "We should move soon if you're up to it, or my mothers might come check on us."

That might not be the worst result; they were skilled healers, and might offer to help but Link wasn't sure Legend would appreciate having to socialize with them.

Still, Legend shook his head and his gaze drifted once more as one hand crept up to his ears.

He needed to do anything but that. Link got up and lobbed the canvas bag of his things to him instead. His clothes had been changed for a light, sheer cotton shirt and calf-length blue pants like he himself wore. That didn't seem to be his priority though: he dug in the bag for one thing, a gold bracelet with a blue gem, something he immediately sobbed to see and clutched hard in one hand, unable to even put it on.

Link's breath hissed out between his teeth. He wanted to go back, then and there, and make the woman pay. He wanted to let the other boys she'd taken have a chance to go anywhere else, go home but it was just as likely they had nowhere. Their families might be dead, or the ones who sold them in the first place for all he knew. Not every slave was taken by force, or from a life worse than they might have now. A slave might be better fed, better clothed than a life as a poor farmer.... they just could not leave. It was all, in the end, luck. He couldn't save everyone, and the reminder burned his throat.

Perhaps he could do something come morning, but that was hours yet. He had to focus on what he could do now .

Legend's ears twitched; it was almost strong enough his whole head shivered. "I c-can still feel it."

Link snapped his fingers to get him to look. "I can go over it again, if that would help?"

Legend swallowed and licked his lips. "...okay."

Well, if it helped. Link crept closer carefully, crouching in front of him so he could see him reach out and grip the lower edge of his ear, working his way from the lobe out, across the three empty holes. Legend's face twisted with something that looked like pain, except there was no injury left, not really.

But the memory burned regardless.

Link knew that all too well.

He repeated it on the other side, but it looked like it did help: Legend took a deep breath perhaps for the first time since he'd gotten him out of the market.

"...Thanks," Legend breathed.

Link leaned back on his heels, tired. "It's nothing. I remember the first time I got mine done." That memory was scarred in his mind, although he hoped it was for very different reasons than Legend's was. He swallowed. "Did they do anything else?"

"I don't know." He shook his head, hard. "I didn't want this..."

"That's how slaves are treated," Link shrugged it off and stood. "Come. I can help you walk."

If he stayed here any longer, he was going to be no better off than Legend was. The veteran nodded reluctantly and tried to stand. He was still unsteady; Link guessed he hadn't had much to eat, not while he was that upset. He offered his arm and picked up the bag in his other hand. Legend only took a few steps before he took hold of his arm to keep his feet.

With both hands occupied, there was no way he could talk but he didn't dwell on it. His own camp was closer than Legend's friends, and with Legend in this condition he should see a trained medic first regardless... especially if he'd lied or overlooked an injury in this state.

It was a long walk, and a dull one. The desert rarely offered m any diversions , and it was even less interesting when the only goal was to reach somewhere so you could do anything else. Legend shifted from leaning on his arm to Link almost half carrying him: he was exhausted, and with the immediate stress removed he was fading fast.

Fortunately, he didn't have to get all that close before someone saw him coming. It was Far who met them first, eyes wide.

“What happened?”

Link dropped the bag to sign, one - handed, “Slave markets. He needs to see Chief.” Looking past his shoulder, Link saw Legend’s little shadow , Red, hovering and Link jerked his chin his way.

He didn’t need to say anything else. Far swore under his breath. “I’ll go let his friends know,” he said quickly, even as he turned away and his voice rose, cheerful as though nothing was wrong. “Hey Red, you can shrink down small right? Want to fly with me to let the others know Legend’s back safe?”

“He’s back?” Red said. “I want to see him!”

“He needs to see Chief first. C’mon, I want to show you something cool I can do...”

Link put the two of them from his mind. Far could handle the boy, and Legend was deep enough in his own head he’d barely stirred. When they reached Chief’s tent, Link went inside and laid him down on the bed without a word.

Chief immediately set down whatever he'd been doing before. “You found him? Shit, how bad is he...?”

Link crouched back on his heels and signed, “They pierced his ears. I think they used a healing potion already, but can you do anything to make them close?”

Chief stared from his hands to his face in horror. “They did what?”

Link pulled one of the heavy gold hoops from his pocket, then two of the smaller earrings, to make his point. Chief stared from them to Legend and reached up to feel his ears himself. Legend flinched the moment he touched them.

“Sorry, it’s me. I’m just checking how they’re healing,” he said. His voice went soft and soothing. “C’mon, you should get into something more familiar. Kokiri...?”

He didn’t need him to say it twice. Link rose and stepped outside the tent, closing the flaps to give them privacy while Legend collapsed on his friend. This was as much as he could do. He did like Legend; as far as he knew, the other man claimed he liked him in return, which said nothing good about his taste in friends but plenty about how poorly he was going to take being made helpless and tortured.... His own hand fell back to his sword.

How long until he woke up enough to ask about the conversation he’d overheard? Or did he remember any of it at all? Link wasn’t sure which he hoped for. On some level, he did want to talk about his past, his other family, the way in which he was both indebted and furious with Koume and Kotake for their part in all of this...

But not at the cost of his friendships. He'd said little of it even to his own companions; it hadn't been important. It had rarely come up.

Far and Red were nowhere in sight, and didn’t return for over an hour. When they did, they came with company: Legend’s friend Warriors had arrived, looking tense and serious , as though he and Prince were of the same mould (a fact more true for them than himself and their Knight.) Before he reached Link's side , a fairy, shimmering green, rose from his hand and flew off. Warriors watched it go with a somber look then forced a tight smile as he came close.

Link hadn’t really spoken to him personally yet. Wary, he smiled back and signed, “Do you understand me?”

Warriors looked at his hands rapidly, then his face again. He spoke and signed together, “Yes, I do. You’re Kokiri?”

Not a hard deduction; while Legend had some red hair, and Rabbit had a full head of it, Link himself hadn’t redyed his own in almost a year. The henna was faded and grown out, both. He was also the only one with Gerudo clothes and weapons of his own ; he imagined their one, brief introduction had seared that into everyone's minds . He half - bowed in acknowledgement. “I can hear. Legend’s asleep now, but Chief did say he seems mostly fine aside from the bruises.”

Warriors sighed a little in relief, but his eyebrows dropped low. He looked around and signed instead of speak now. “What do you mean, mostly fine?”

Link hesitated. “You know about his fear?”

Warriors’ jaw tensed and his eyes went wide. Taking that as a ‘yes’, Link fished into his purse for the earrings and passed them over in silent answer. Warriors wore earrings himself; he’d understand what the large, heavy hoops must have felt like for someone who despised the very idea.

“That’s...” Warriors swallowed hard. “He had all of these?”

“It’s traditional to sell slaves with pierced ears.” Link shrugged, still so angry he couldn’t have spoken himself. “They noticed he was quieter, after and I have no idea if they did anything else to him because he can’t think past it.”

Warriors nodded, but he didn’t manage to speak again. He kept turning the earrings in his hand, eyes wide with horror and mouth tight, until he finally shoved them back at Link to put away. Link took them, then retrieved the flask of date wine he’d bought at the market, before he found Legend, and offered it instead. The other man took it, sniffed, and drank with relief.

“Did Red seem suspicious?” Link asked, after he’d taken a second drink and returned it.

“No. I think Far has him thoroughly distracted.”

Link nodded, relieved. Thank all the Gods Far was good with people; Red reacted as badly to needles as Legend, and could be painfully empathetic. He turned back to the tent and glanced inside.

Chief looked up at him and signed, “Is someone here to see him?”

“If that’s okay? It’s Warriors.”

“Send him in.”

Link simply held the flap open in silent invitation, and Warrriors immediately ducked inside to check on his friend. Their muted conversation was quiet, but reassuring: Link trusted that, if Chief had assessed Legend’s injuries to stop at a sprained arm and bruises, that was true. He likely wouldn’t have lied just to spare Warriors’ mind: he 'd been in the same war as Link and Prince.

“Will the holes close?” Warriors asked aloud.

“I think so,” Chief sighed, his light voice quiet. “If they don’t, I can think of a few ways to make them but I’d rather not have to. It’s been less than a day, so without anything in the way.... We just have to wait.”

“I can go...”

“...Stay nearby but. Yes, I think it’d be best he not wake up to any surprises.”

When Warriors stepped out again, Link offered him the flask once more. The other man took it with relief, but made a face when he gave it back. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

Link raised an eyebrow. “Doing what?”

“Offering me that. Time will chew me out if I have any more.”

Link raised both eyebrows at that. He didn’t have the highest opinion of the Knight among their group. He was, apparently, his counterpart in every way that mattered. They had both recently suffered the inevitable civil war of the unstable politics they’d been born into. However, the differences in where they’d wound up had made their first, direct meeting go.... poorly. “You’re staying here anyway,” he pointed out. “Who’s going to tell him?”

Warriors laughed at that, but still he shook his head. “I’d rather be sober when he wakes. I’m going to go tell the others Legend’s been found safe and return, alright?”

Link shrugged it off and returned to his position guarding the tent, against intruders and the risk of a worried Red alike.

It wasn’t needed. The respective camps were an hour or more away from each other, and who knew how long Warriors would be trapped explaining what had happened to the others? Link didn’t expect him; he didn’t expect much of anything in an isolated camp in the desert, so when someone cried out in the tent behind him, he crouched and looked in instantly rather than stay on watch.

“Lege, please. You’re okay, they’re gone!” Chief begged.

Legend wasn’t hearing him. He’d grabbed his ears and started sobbing, somewhere between pleading and swearing with every hoarse breath. He wasn’t clawing at his face, so Chief hadn’t grabbed for his hands but talking wasn’t getting anywhere.

Link pressed his fingers to the back of Legend’s near hand and clucked his tongue.

Legend looked up in terror, that hand dropping away. Link gripped the holes tight, briefly, massaging his skin so he could feel there was nothing there, then sat back on his heels to sign.

“They’re gone. You’re safe, now.”

Legend gasped for breath, and pushed himself up enough to turn his head in silent request. Link obliged and did the same on the other side.

“Do you want Kokiri to stay while you try to go back to sleep?” Chief asked aloud as he did so. “If you seem to make him feel more comfortable now.”

There had been nothing happening for hours, and the day had swung through comfortable to cold, since. There were others in their group on watch. Link shrugged in agreement and removed his sword, turning to lean on the pallet at Legend’s back. He doubted the Veteran wanted someone between him and the door, although apparently he was wrong: once he was settled, and Legend had pressed back against his chest, the veteran pulled Chief down to tuck him into his arms.

Link supposed it was for the best: if his arms were wrapped around someone else, he wasn’t risking ripping open his ears. He was still settling into place himself when someone called out outside the tent.

“Chief? Kokiri?”

It was Warriors; he’d made it back, it seemed, at a good time.

Chief called out, “Come in. He’s awake.”

“It’s fine, I don’t need to...” Legend complained. He ducked his head towards Chief’s hair, but his voice trailed off, the protest dying half-formed.

Warriors ducked into the tent, and his face collapsed with relief as he looked them over inside. He knelt at Legend’s side and pulled one of his hands off Chief’s back to press it between his own. “It’s good to see you awake, Vet.”

“Sorry I scared you,” Legend whispered back. Link felt him tighten around Chief in his arms. “I’m okay.”

“You will be.” Warriors’ frowned over Legend’s head and signed, briefly with one hand, “Are you okay?”

He meant him, Link knew, and he appreciated him asking. Sometimes did mind being this close to others, but Legend was far more like Far or Outset than Warriors himself. He was young, energetic but in no way a real threat, not in any way that mattered. Frankly, it alarmed him sometimes how few of the other group of Hero's felt like a real threat. The best they had was that blasted knight.

Link nodded to Warriors and signed, one - handed still , his only real concern: “Will you stay and watch the door?”

It was as much for his sake as Legend’s, but it also gave the other man a reason to stay removed.

Between them, Legend frowned but he was already fading fast from the terror that woke him. “What is it?”

“Kokiri just asked me to watch the door,” Warriors’ said.

Legend sighed quietly, and relaxed between them. “So you’ll stay?”

“I promise. I’ll stay and watch over you.”

Chapter Text

Link knew Legend had spent the night with the medic he’d met among the other heroes, so it should be no surprise to see one of them in camp that morning.

What was a surprise was which one: the adopted Gerudo woman had never had anything to do with them since their first disastrous meeting. He doubted she had changed her opinion in however much time it had been for them since. Their respective groups weren’t moving in lockstep; they’d crossed paths perhaps four or five times since, mostly minor disasters before now: injuries and absences, misfortune similar to what had befallen Legend this time.

He was grateful; if what Warriors said was true, she’d seen him home safely with minimal injury to herself or, apparently, anyone else. He wasn’t sure he’d have had the same restraint.

Because of that, and because he knew she knew that, it took Link several long seconds to realize she was coming his way. Link looked at Warriors and nodded him to pay attention, presuming she must be looking for him, but no, she was watching his face and smiled.

It was not a pleasant smile. Warriors, for his part, looked just as tense as Link felt which made him feel marginally better at the same time it worried him. Warriors could speak normally enough of her when it came to the other group, but here and now, adjacent to him, he worried.

Was it her behaviour he didn’t trust, or Link’s own? He wasn’t sure.

He wasn’t sure it mattered.

“Time?” the woman signed, and then carried on as he inclined his head. “I hoped you might come with me to the Gerudo market to speak to the woman who took Legend yesterday.”

Link raised both eyebrows. He touched his chest, silently, too stunned to speak.

She rolled her eyes and waved off his perceived concern. “None of the others know how to deal with Gerudo. You do.”

“I didn’t think you’d wish harm on your sisters.” Link said aloud, because he couldn’t imagine what else she meant when she suggested they ‘deal with’ the Gerudo. She knew full well he’d meant to kill her when they first met, and only something akin to divine intervention had stopped him.

She didn’t deny it. “Why would I spare someone who kidnapped a sibling of mine? Slave takers deserve no mercy. Were they not active in your world?”

He ground his teeth and glanced uneasily at Warriors; he’d explained only a little of his reaction to the woman (she used Kokiri as a name, but it galled him to use it. The Kokiri were his family, not hers) All he’d really managed to admit was that there had been a second war, with Ganondorf at its head, and he’d been heavily involved in the fighting.

The woman noticed and signed at Warriors. “Leave us.”

“No,” Warriors said aloud. “But I can turn my back if you want to talk privately. I’m not going out of earshot.”

“I won’t harm her again,” Link objected.

Warriors raised both eyebrows and looked between them. “Kokiri’s a guy, the same as the rest of us.”

Link bit his tongue; Warriors was right to call him on it. He was failing to think of her as Hylian, between her dress and dyed hair. Still, she waved off Warriors’ concern.

“If he’s thinking of me as Gerudo, he’s not wrong to use that pronoun. I am a Gerudo woman. It’s not the same thing.”

He coughed, then laughed hard at the correction; that was true. It had taken him ages to learn from Nabooru, too, when she used the same pronoun in Gerudo for herself and her King. Of course, if this woman lived with them more than Hylians it wouldn't bother her.

Warriors sighed. “I don’t want you two to fight again.”

The woman turned more sharply on Warriors. “It’s not your place.”

“Enough,” Link said aloud, angry at her turning that look at Wars; she could hate him all she liked, but not his friends. “Let him worry. If you would turn your back, Wars?” he asked, which would at least stop them from arguing; if Warriors couldn’t see the woman sign, neither of them could lash out. Only once he’d looked away, and the others weren’t close enough to see did Link finally answer her properly in sign himself. “There was slavers, yes. I wasn’t taken as one; only as a prisoner.”

“Barter?” she asked, then waved it off as irrelevant, a casualness that took his breath away. “You understand why I won’t take anyone else. The others don’t understand, and Hateno and your Wild have never known them as hostile. If we have any problems, you will not hesitate.”

Her words cut deep. Link bit his lip hard, and then shook his head, shocked at how much it hurt to hear someone put it like that. She wanted him to come because she believed he would kill as easily as her; it left him nauseous. “Does Nabooru know you think like that?” he asked, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Unsure, as soon as the words left his mouth, if he wanted to know: was her Nabooru still alive? Was her wife? Had she met them again, too? Surely that was who had adopted her, but he realized he didn’t know.

“Yes,” she signed, then softened a little. “She saved me after Hylian soldiers tried to kill me.”

At least, he translated it in his head as ‘tried to kill me’: the actual gesture she used looked a lot more like being gutted, and he remembered enough of war to wonder how literally she meant it. He wasn’t going to ask; couldn’t even stomach the thought.

What he did offer in return was, dressed only in his gambeson over a shirt, was to hike it up and show her a scar he hadn’t shown the others: a Gerudo horse brand on his lower ribs, given while he was prisoner... They had wanted him, a Hylian Knight, to hurt for what the war had done even if they didn't want him dead. He was too valuable.

She smiled darkly at it. “While I was in the past, they pressed a hot coal to my tongue. Obviously don’t still have the scar now.”

The past could mean a lot between their shared experience, but they were stalling: she still meant to go, and he could already tell from her demeanor and expectant look she thought he was going to agree. He wasn’t sure there was anything he could say to stop her, and, unfortunately, he agreed with her assessment: no one else was prepared to deal with Gerudo in this time period but them. He groaned heavily and got up.

“Can we visit Legend first?” he asked aloud, letting Warriors know that he’d come to a decision. “I’d like to see how he is before I do anything else and if I remember right it’s on the way.”

The woman shrugged idly at the request and shot Warriors a more than rude smile before turning and starting back the way she came.

“Time,” Warriors begged. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“No,” he said. “But letting her... Kokiri go alone isn’t better, and she won’t change her mind.”

There was nothing Warriors could say to that, and no time; she wasn’t waiting for him to talk. He caught up to her a minute later, irritable and straightening his mail and tunic: he hadn’t had time to put on more, and wouldn’t have wanted it in this heat as it was. There shouldn’t be any iron knuckles at the market.

Gods bless them, he hoped there were no iron knuckles at the market.

“What are you wearing under your shirt for armour?” he asked. When they’d last fought, he’d felt it when something like plate metal stopped his sword from cutting into her ribs, but under the circumstances he’d had no chance to ask further. He could see, in very neat stitches, the white mend that wasn’t quite as sheer as the rest of her shirt.

“Stays,” she signed. “The Hylian style. It keeps my chest flat, so people who aren’t like you assume I’m male.”

Metal boning, then, Link concluded, which would work well as lamellar type armour, similar to his own if with less padding. He almost certainly broken her ribs, but Legend had said their medic had been startled by their lack of innate healing....

Not that he’d needed Legend to tell him how different they were. He still woke sometimes, with the awful memory of the woman next to him putting on the mask she wore absentmindedy at the small of her back, like it was nothing. Like it didn’t worry her at all.

Perhaps that was different, too. Or perhaps she’d never made the kind of mistakes in using it he had; perhaps she had not angered it. He almost wanted to ask: what is it to you? What do you think of it? What does it do for you, how does it work? How safe is it, really?

He couldn’t form the words; he was afraid of the answer, some, and so he didn’t ask. They spent the rest of the walk to the other’s camp in silence; they’d set up on opposite sides of an oasis of decent size, trying to make use of what little shelter the dunes provided around it, and Link had to admit theirs was both more and less professional; two looked up as soon as they approached, but to his surprise neither looked hostile or at all worried about him, or about their companion.

Truthfully he’d expected them to be younger, or perhaps a little softer. He’d had little to do with them after his disastrous first impression, so besides the occasional encounter with Legend’s friends they were all strangers.

They seemed equally inclined to stay that way, and they reached one of the tents without a single hail. The woman stopped at the edge of the tent door and stood at attention, leaving Link to crouch and call out alone. “Legend? It’s Time. May I come in?”

There was a muffled noise inside, and then a young man pulled the flap open. It wasn’t Legend: it was the medic, a round faced youth he’d heard was much older than he looked. He was wearing blue pants and a white undershirt. If he looked like anyone, he reminded him of Wind but it was hard to say.

He searched his mind for his name, but came up blank. It didn’t seem to bother him.

“Come in,” the medic said. “He’s just waking up.”

“Thank you.” Link edged into the tent and knelt on the edge of a bedroll, looking quietly down on Legend. The younger man was curled up still, staring a little blankly at the blankets under him. His heart dropped to see it; old rage, familiar rage (the rage that had overtaken him upon seeing the woman outside walking with Hylian men) rose and choked him.

He was supposed ot protect them. The others were children , or nearly children, and he’d let this happen in his carelessness. He knew better, surely; he could do better than this, and they should pay for...

“How are you feeling?” he forced himself to say.

Legend grunted into the pillow under his head, then shook his head. One hand reached up towards his ear and stopped, as though it hit a wall.

They’d pierced his ears, Warriors had said, and while Link knew only a little of his struggles with needles (he seemed to have it largely in hand so far) he could well imagine how distressing it was. His ribs throbbed in sympathetic memory; that had taken weeks to heal. He had not been given anything to ease the pain.

“They’re gone,” Link said, in case that’s what he needed to hear. “I promise. I... Kokiri asked me to return to the market with her. Have you confirmed you have all your things?”

Legend licked his lips. “...Rabbit looked, and said.... Yes.”

Link nodded, trying to place the name again and giving up. Likely, given context, his counterpart like Kokiri was (in some sick twist of fate) his. “Alright. The woman who took you... Do you want her to pay?”

As he’d feared, the question only made Legend retreat further. He curled up and shook his head back and forth; less refusal than a denial, bared teeth and eyes half shut. “I just don’t want to think about it.”

“Alright,” Link said, voice low. “I just wanted to see you before we went. You won’t have to. I’ll let you rest.”

Legend looked up, surprised but there was clear relief crossing his face after. “You promise?”

Link stopped, half risen, and let his rage sit in the back of his throat. “I do.”

The woman outside didn’t even ask when he came out. She looked him over and immediately began the walk from camp to market without another word, and Link was left with only the burden of his words on his heart.

I promise. You won’t have to.

Gods and spirits help him, but he meant it. Whatever he had to do to ensure Legend would never see her again, he would. They walked in near silence for most of the way, but as the tents and bustle of dark skinned figures came more into view, he couldn’t stop looking at the white haired mask on her belt. He could still picture the ease with which she’d used it: mask to face, to changing, and back.

Back, without any struggle at all. He swallowed again and looked forward until the words came, unbidden, to his mouth: “Can you use that mask for anything?”

The woman glanced at him, and simply signed, “No.” When he didn’t elaborate, she slowed and asked her own question: “Can you?”

Link grimaced. He came to a stop, perhaps a hundred feet from the market and feeling his palms itch that he hadn’t yet pulled a sword. He was armed; it was normal to be armed among Gerudo. Nobody would consider him hostile. They’d consider him foolish if he were to try and go in unarmed. But it meant...

“In a sense, yes,” he signed back, rather than say it aloud, but even as he did so he touched the scar that had cut through his right eye. “But at a cost.”

She raised one hand, as it to touch his face and he flinched, hard, one hand going to his sword. She went instantly still, pulling both hands up and back to demonstrate she was harmless and for a second all he could think was hate.

Traitor. Liar. You’re deceiving everyone.

Link closed his eyes and breathed until his thoughts calmed. He didn’t actually think that. He trusted Legend and Warriors’ judgment; he had to. He couldn’t do this alone and he knew it, and so he relied on them and he knew he could. They did not believe this woman meant anyone any harm. She’d listened to him.

She’d asked for his help on purpose , because they both agreed what had happened to Legend was unforgivable. He licked his lips and tried to think of anything else, anything but his mistake in thinking about the mask again.

“How injured was he, in truth?” he asked.

“Chief would’ve told us if there was worse than the obvious,” she signed back, with a confidence that let him breathe out tension he hadn’t realized he still held. “He may respect privacy, but I know his reaction to... torture.”

She replaced her first choice of word with a cautious look at him, and Link didn’t correct her.

“So he was taken, beaten I assume, and given the piercings, and you believe that’s all?”

The woman raised both eyebrows. “Do you need more reason?”

He shook his head, and didn’t try to explain. He simply turned and bowed, gesturing for her to lead the way into the market. He didn’t have a place here without a Gerudo companion, and she was all he had. Even with her, they were getting stares. He was significantly taller than her slender figure, and as they browsed the various stalls, the first one they ran into that sold slaves looked him over hungrily.

“He for sale?” she asked.

“No,” Kokiri signed back, with rude bluntness. “She’s my sister.”

The seller quelled immediately and looked him over a second time and brought out much heavier hoops. She held them out, almost like a peace offering.

No; as Kokiri picked them up to investigate, the woman in fact said, “A gift, then. Peace sister, I meant no insult.”

She was addressing him. Link couldn’t think what to say; his voice stuck in his throat with the weight of years of unease and fear. Fortunately, he didn’t have to speak: he could sign, one simple movement: “Thank you.”

Kokiri pressed the hoops into his hand, and Link lifted them to the light. They were very good work, silver with sapphire, like a much higher quality version of what he had on now. As the day wore on, he frankly might benefit from them: he could feel the magic on them, meant to keep one cool. Likely he would need to remove them before returning but...

He took the time, while Kokiri browsed and asked about the other sellers quietly, to swap out the earrings: it would also help him fit in, and ease the woman’s mind to see them accepted. The heavy metal was cold on his neck; cold, heavy, and familiar.

This wasn’t the first pair of earrings like this he’d owned, but he couldn’t remember what he’d done with the pair from Nabooru anymore. Perhaps he’d gotten rid of them; perhaps they were simply at the bottom of a bin, or gifted silently to Malon without explanation.

That was right: he had given them to her, because wearing them made his skin crawl.

Why didn’t he feel that now?

Someone clicked their tongue, as if to chivvy a horse, and Link refocused rapidly on Kokiri. She gestured him to follow and carried on up the market. With the earrings in, they didn’t get another question about if he was for sale: they were too expensive a piece, too obviously valuable. If he was perceived as her slave, he was a valued one. They were having no luck finding the specific seller from the day before, and had nearly made a full circuit, back to the stalls that currently held slaves. The woman Kokiri was talking to now was clearly dancing around the obvious question a woman in her position would ask: while young men made better behaved slaves, someone his age and build was far more attractive for.... several reasons.

Frankly he was more afraid of Kokiri losing her temper long before he lost his own with her, and he was mentally running the scenario in his head: attack and retreat, and the odds of who around them would come to this woman’s defence.

A cold wind, well out of place near midday in the desert, tickled its way along his mail, freezing the metal so cold he felt the chain through gambeson and undershirt both. He turned and stared.

They were instantly recognizeable: Koume and Kotake, the witches that raised the King of Thieves. They looked him over, head to toe, but if they were armed it was in a dual use of their respective canes. He grunted, softly and turned to look even as Kokiri turned around herself and instantly switched her usual, dour look for transformative delight.

“Mothers!” she signed, and Link blessed every God he knew by name he hadn’t attacked them on sight. “How good to see you, I missed you earlier!”

“We had to deal with something at the Temple,” Kotake said. She hugged Kokiri in greeting and kissed both her cheeks. “Who is this with you? Your friend?”

“A sister,” Kokiri said, using the only word Gerudo had. He couldn’t be brother even had she wanted to use the right terms.

However, that came with another problem: as soon as he was labelled ‘sister’ to the witches, Kotake moved from Kokiri to take his shoulders and kiss him on both cheeks. Only years spent visiting Nabooru saved him from insulting her by refusing: he kissed the air over hers back, then had to repeat it with Koume.

“Please, come with us to our tent!” Kotake insisted, and Link had no choice but to follow.

The tent in question was a larger one they’d already passed once, but at the time the front had been closed. Now, it was open. The entrance was both a small sales space, with magic items on display before a counter staffed by an alert young woman, and a sitting room. They passed through the curtain beyond the sitting room and into a large, open space. The center was a low table, already set with tea and food. Around the edge was low, wide cushions with bolsters to lean on.

It made his teeth ache. Replace the blue and red with gold and green, the tent walls with stone and the perfumed air with the smell of one, particular desert flower instead of their roses and a musky scent he knew from the swamps (from their hut in Termina...)

This could’ve been Nabooru’s home. The tea set was almost the exact same design. He sat opposite Kokiri, legs loosely crossed as he watched Kotake serve them both tea and could only think one thing: these witches were why Nabooru and her wife were both dead.

And yet, here and now, he smiled and accepted tea from Koume’s hand as the two women sat, mature but not elderly and smiled between them both.

“So is this your girlfriend?” Koume asked.

Kokiri shook her head and set down her teacup. “Sister,” she repeated. “She’s one of my companions, like the other I rescued yesterday. We came to check if the woman was still around...?”

“I haven’t seen her yet today.” Kotake frowned and rose. “Excuse me, I’ll ask Lira if she can confirm where she went.”

“Your companion is well then?” Koume continued. “I know she seemed not quite herself yesterday, that was a dreadful mistake.”

Mistake, Link thought. As though taking slaves didn’t lend itself to this all the time. Kokiri, somehow, kept her temper and flashed another tired smile.

“She’s well,” she clarified. “The woman was simply careless with her while she was treated as property, as happens so often. Who is Lira, your slave?”

Link choked on a date, grateful he’d had the foresight to ensure his mouth was full to reduce his temptation to say anything worse but apparently Kokiri had no such caution.

“No, no,” Koume waved it off with the same blase lack of concern Kokiri could display. “She’s an apprentice of ours. How did we lose you, by the way? Do you know how far you’ve been displaced?”

Kokiri looked uneasily at Link and answered, as vaguely as she could, “It’s hard to say. I do have it under control, and there are other concerns...”

She was pleading with him to help her out of this. Link swallowed nausea and smiled himself and turned to address them, “For myself, I crossed paths with your daughter on my own search for monsters with black blood. Have you seen any?”

He expected them to say no, and the attempt to fail miserably. He did not expect Koume to immediately sit up with near palpable delight. “So you know what those are?” she said immediately. “There’s been so many, we’ve been very curious! They tried to overrun the Temple, which is what kept us from the market so long today. Kotake! Kotake, our new daughter knows about the monsters!”

Link took up his coffee cup again and sipped it, wishing vainly to be anywhere but here. He comforted himself with the only thought he could: his own group had been discussing, with some worry, why they were here. The monster's with black blood could've done a lot of damage to communities in the desert, which were often mixed and had frequent travel to and from. At least now, he had some answer, and he focused on that as Kotake sat down as well and refilled his cup.

"You know these creatures?"

"We do," Link said, and swallowed hard. "We've only briefly encountered the agent behind them, a... shapeshifter of some kind. We haven't pinned it down, but it did do serious damage to one of our companions in the recent past, from which he's still recovering. Healing sometimes will not work on the damage he, the agent himself, does."

"But you don't know what it is?" Kotake looked at her sister, disturbed. "The monsters working under it are powerful; even our knuckles can only handle so many."

Well, he supposed he was relieved to know where the armoured sisters were. Link nodded, tiredly. "It can often take more than one of us to defeat even one, when we're all as trained as them."

"You can take a knuckle in battle?" Koume asked.

Link had to put his cup down, and the glass rattled on the tray. He breathed slowly, through his nose and stared as hard as he could at the pattern on the coffee pot. It was grapevines, and he clenched his jaw as he counted each circle of grape in each bunch.

--the etched lines around the metal helmet were dark with blood, and there was red hair still stuck to the axe in his hand--

He smelled perfume. It wasn't familiar perfume; it was musky, dark and earthy with a bite like cinnamon and he coughed and turned his face away. When he looked up, Kotake was standing right next to him, a little blue vial in hand as she put the stopper back into place.

"Forgive us," Koume said, then ruthlessly, "What happened?"

"My sister..." He coughed and took another drink of coffee, holding the hot, bitter liquid a moment on his tongue before swallowing. "My sister was a knuckle. She died. A knight killed her."

I killed her , he thought, because of you.

"I'm sorry," he continued. "But if you're right and the monsters are here, we shouldn't stay here long. They likely will seek us out if they lose interest in your temple, and I wouldn't wish to bring them into the market."

The two witches jumped in place, startled by his words. "Are they hunting you?"

"It's hard to say which of us is hunting the other, but we travel through the same portals it does. We're still learning what is going on, unfortunately, as my group lacks anyone with your training."

"Then we shouldn't keep our daughter from your aid." Koume nodded firmly, and stood. She rummaged through a box on the counter and came back to push... jewellery on them. Link murmured thanks and looked it over. Gifts were traditional; it was a ruby ring this time. She must have noticed he was wearing sapphire, he supposed, although he wasn't sure offhand if this was for cold or something else. He could ask Legend....

If Legend didn't find the idea of Gerudo jewellery abhorrent now.

He closed his hand over it and stood, cuing Kokiri to do the same. They had to hug again, and exchange cheek kisses in farewell too. Kokiri said something about sending Lira to their camp if they heard tell of the seller's return and then they were, somehow, free.

Link stared across the market in silent shock. He saw, in the corner of his eye, Kokiri start towards the far end, the part closest to their camps and followed still feeling numb. Still struggling with the pain the memory called.

Nabooru had survived initially, after his return to the past, when Ganondorf's plans fell apart... but she hadn't lived through the second war. When he was sixteen, he'd gone to visit her and her wife had told him she was gone. She'd argued with the witches...

He hadn't needed Farah to tell him what happened then; what had already happened once before.

Kokiri's tongue clicked sharply again. Link looked up at her, irritated, and she simply signed.

"Your sister was Nabooru?"

Link swallowed and nodded, waiting for the next question, the obvious one: Did you kill her? Would it even bother Kokiri to know he had? Would it have bothered her, if she'd had to kill her herself?

But the slender woman didn't ask. She made another, aborted gesture towards touching him, then simply touched her hand to her heart before signing, "May her memory be a blessing. Farah?"

Farah, he thought. So she married the same woman? He swallowed hard and shook his head. He wasn't sure, but he may have killed her too. It was exhausting, to think of how many lives he'd taken as a knight. Perhaps Kokiri had made the better choice after all.

He needed to think of anything but this. "Do you think the woman's gone?"

Kokiri nodded curtly. "She would not wish to pay the blood price for harming my companion."

"Then that's all Legend wanted to know."

He heard the hiss of breath through her teeth, and watched her hands clench and only slowly relax... but she kept walking the long trip back towards their camps. Link turned the ring, over and over in his hands, and finally pocketed it. He thought briefly of removing the earrings, but as he touched them he realized that somewhere in the last few hours they'd gone from cold and heavy, to something he'd forgotten he was wearing.

They were familiar. They were almost comforting, a memory he'd not thought about in years and he slowly lowered his hand. It wasn't news to Legend he had pierced ears. He may not even notice... and he didn't want to take them off. Not yet.

As they reached their camp, Kokiri turned and signed briefly, "Thank you," before reaching out to touch his arm. Link stayed very still and, when he didn't pull away, Kokiri kissed the air over each cheek, careful not to touch. Link returned it, both on reflex -- after doing it four times today, the greeting was familiar once more -- and because there was something special in getting that from Kokiri, of all people.

It was a normal greeting, ordinary... but it was primarily only used between Gerudo. He'd hardly expected this morning to be treated like her sister. He'd have hated the thought, but now...

It meant she trusted him. She was grateful for his help; he had helped her.

He turned and called out softly to the tent where Legend had been asleep that morning. The flaps of the tent were already rolled back, to let the heat of the day dissipate before the temperature dropped cold enough to want them closed again. Legend was curled up asleep, and the medic sat nearby with a small music box in hand. Link called out softly, and the medic looked up and gave him an obvious once over.

"How's Kokiri?" he asked.

"Safe," Link said. "Nobody was hurt. The seller had left the market and not come back."

The medic nodded to that and jerked his chin at Legend. "He's been worried sick. He refused to leave here until you came back."

Link sat down by the veteran and cautiously called his name. "Legend? It's Time."

The only response he got was a sleepy grumble and a hand reaching out for his. Link took it, and Legend squinted up at him and curled up closer to his legs. Link sighed. He didn't want to interrupt his sleep if this wasn't bothering him, with talk of the stop there.

"Can you send someone to go get Wars?" Link asked. "I should at least tell him some news we found out."

"I'll get Far," the medic promised, and stepped away.

Link could only wait. He told himself that it wasn't going to be that long, but the quiet noises of evening were familiar: someone was arguing about dinner in Hylian, the fire was crackling, and not far away he could hear the regular footsteps of someone doing drills. He'd spent half the last few years in a camp like this, and he narrowly fought off a yawn.

He wasn't going to fall on Legend when he'd just been healed. He shifted the boy out of his lap and laid down by his side, his head cushioned on his arm and hoping the medic returned before he drifted off. He expected that to be the end of it.

Perhaps it was. His eyes felt heavy as this camp, even if not his own, felt safe and a few seconds later someone's head was on his arm and he shifted just enough to drape his arm over their back. He blinked one eye open: Legend had shifted closer, clinging to having company as he never did when awake.

Link closed his eyes and let the exhaustion wash over him.

He hadn't failed him, in the end. That was all that mattered.

And nobody had had to die.