Chapter Text
Green was cheating. The group had agreed to a single weapon sparring tournament, with the final round as a three way free-for-all, but Green had slipped in some wind magic alongside their sword.
A glance at Hyrule said they weren't the only one to notice, but Warriors was refereeing the round and hadn't called it out, so Twilight would have to deal with it.
An elbow rested on Red's shoulder, and they glanced over to find their shadow watching the duel intently.
With the majority of the chain cheering or simply watching the duel, only Hyrule had caught the interloper.
Despite Green's cheating, Twilight managed to pin them.
Shadow chuckled, “that brings back memories, eh, Vi?”
Vio twitched, barely not a flinch, and looked away. Red couldn't tell if they had already known Shadow had appeared.
Green slipped Twilight’s loosened pin and ran over to Vio. “Vio?”
Red and Blue weren't far behind, and they became Four.
Vio walled off immediately. Green didn't hesitate to do the mental equivalent of leaning on the door and murmuring words of comfort.
Shadow blinked. Guilt bled into their body language, and they backed out of the group.
Red was snagged out of control before they could make the mistake of calling them back.
Shadow vanished. Red knew very well they hadn’t expected that reaction.
None of them had.
Panic bled into Red’s psyche, and it took a long moment to realize it came from Vio, as they struggled through the walls they put up.
“Vio,” Red said aloud, “we’re here.” Shadow is okay. “Nothing has changed.”
I fucked up.
You just saw your dead friend for the first time in years. You’re allowed to panic a little.
Green and Shadow are both fucking cockroaches. You can’t kill them if you try, you know.
Red held back a laugh. “You know,” they drawled.
Oh, no.
What?
“Vio subverted our expectations again, so I think that means they won the bet.”
Bet?
Fuck you.
Alright, Vi, you’ve got a few days off chores.
“None of you considered shut down at the sight of a friend's killer thought dead?” Legend asked.
Phrased like that, it seemed the obvious reaction, especially knowing the killer was actually the friend in question but… “Link probably could have realized, but none of us are really balanced for both emotion and logic.” Blue and Red may have been the majority of Link’s emotional response, and Vio may have been the majority of Link’s logic, but that didn’t make Green the balance, really.
“You should explain that,” Hyrule said, tapping their shoulder to elaborate without outright stating what they meant.
“Brings back memories?” Warriors asked.
Is there a way to phrase our duel that’s not… immediately telling?
Yes: we had a fight, Shadow started it, and it was in reference to that.
“They were referencing a fight Shadow started between us. I lost, and I suppose the particulars were similar enough,” Green said. Hyrule’s gaze sharpened when they didn’t answer their request.
Red couldn’t answer that, though. They had answers lined up in their head, but they felt like lies. The real reason Red hadn’t reacted to Shadow’s presence was because Shadow seemed like they needed a moment.
Blue gently shifted Green from control and kept the body breathing evenly as the group deliberated. Breathing exercises had been good for them to relearn as they worked through the difference between defensive and angry.
Why is Hyrule looking at us like that?
How long was Shadow here? That answered whether they had noticed Shadow before they spoke up.
They leaned on my shoulder a couple seconds before Twilight won.
So, what do we say to Hyrule?
No, what can Red say to Hyrule? The answer they want is that Red doesn't care about Shadow, and it has to come from Red.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Sky asked, “Vio, I mean.”
What about dismissing them as a threat?
Two problems. I would never dismiss a friend killer, and I do actually see Shadow as a threat.
Shadow is touch starved. A pause. We should probably answer Sky, too.
It's too fucking late, we didn't answer the question. Let it lay, or let them blow it out of proportion. They nodded at Sky to show they had heard the question, and needed to consider it.
I don’t like that option. Red considered, projecting some of the possible comforts enjoyed by the chain they thought Vio might enjoy. As for Sky, Vi, what do you want?
A warm drink and a book sounds delightful.
“Vio's not up for talking, but they won't say no to hot cocoa or something to read,” Red spoke up; they met Hyrule’s narrowed gaze with a weak smile. An attempt to promise they would explain later.
Hyrule frowned, but nodded slowly back.
“You never answered Hyrule,” Wild said, apropos of nothing a couple days later, the first time they were left mostly out of earshot of the rest of the chain.
More importantly, Red was left mostly out of earshot of the other colors.
“I was worried about Vio.”
“That's misleading,” Wild noted, stirring some kind of mushroom into their cookpot. They seemed unbothered.
“We follow Vio's lead on Shadow,” Red admitted, “if that's wrong, then we'll figure it out, but I trust Vio not to let it be a problem now they know it.”
Wild frowned. “This isn't about Vio, Red. We're all worried about them, too, but I want to ask about you.”
Red couldn’t answer that. “It's not my secret, to answer what you're asking, so I can't tell you my feelings about it.” They looked out toward where Vio was reading, Sky sitting quietly with a carving knife beside them. “I don’t think Vio's friend would have left them to face this without them, though, and it makes me sad.”
Wild followed their gaze. “They aren't facing anything alone, though.”
Red smiled. “No. Never again.” It was forced, somewhat. The other colors could never understand what Vio had gone through. What it was to live with the understanding that they had built and broken their own heart.
Shadow might take the blame for it, but Red knew Vio felt that guilt with the entirety of their being. Logic said it was their fault, for helping Shadow to become enough of a person to care about them. What little emotion they could understand said the same. No space for the nuance that Shadow had loved being their own person and loved them enough to sacrifice themself willingly. Red thought that was what Vio should focus on, but Vio didn’t know how.
“You can’t help but worry, with Shadow alive again,” Wild cut right to the problem, still unclear on the real issue.
“Vio’s not emotional,” Red said, and had to cut Wild off from arguing, “it makes their emotions so much more unpredictable.”
“All or nothing?”
“No, more… nothing or anything,” Red denied, “it’s hard to explain unless you knew them at their worst.”
“Ah. Legend snapped at… most of us, I think, for implying it seemed nice to have a group of ourself to fight with.”
Red had no idea when that could have happened, and also not really a clue how to respond.
Wild seemed to pick up on that. “What I mean to say is, you’re all the same person, but you’re all so different, can I ask about that?”
“We’re… different ways Link saw themself, sort of. The way earth is stable, the way wind is free, the way water is deep, and the way fire is volatile.”
“Passionate,” Wild corrected.
“What?”
“Fire is passionate,” Wild reiterated, “and unapologetic about it. Like the way you care for us.” They looked out toward the chain, and Red followed their gaze to where Blue was quietly judging Legend’s slow progress on making a handle for their dagger.
To be fair, Legend hadn’t had much time to work on it, with the constant movement and the distraction of Shadow, and Wind’s blatant jealousy.
Red would probably make something for Wind at some point, but it wasn’t a priority, yet. For everyone.
A bowl was placed in Red’s hands. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?” Wild turned to the rest of the chain, “dinner!”
Red blinked. They didn’t really see what Wild had been looking for, in their answers, but Wild seemed satisfied to drop the conversation.
Red shifted to accommodate Blue as they came over to take a nap. Green saw and immediately broke away from strategizing with Wars, Time, and Vio to come sit at their backs.
“Oh,” Sky intoned. They had been inspecting the stitching on their clothes, and Red looked over, expecting them to be looking at that, still. Instead, they were looking at Green,
“Everything alright?” Red asked.
“I just realized why Legend earned a dagger when the rest of us didn’t,” Sky said, looking back at the tunic in their lap.
Red leaned gently into Green’s back, relaxing at the familiar comfort. “It wasn’t really one thing.”
Green huffed.
“No, but it was simple,” Sky said, “you’re not an independent hero. You took the time to learn to work in a group and trust them with everything long before now, and the rest of us didn’t believe you.”
Red didn’t think they had said anything like that.
“You didn’t have to say anything,” Sky said, “you told us not to go by ourselves or by group dynamics or by skillsets, but by what we needed, and we didn’t get it.”
Green shook with quiet laughter, and Red shifted so Green landed on the half of their lap that Blue wasn’t laying. “What?”
“They read you so easily,” Green snickered, hiding their face in Red’s stomach.
Blue grumbled.
“Well, you shouldn’t ignore group dynamics, or you end up with a bad group where nobody listens to each other, but going only by group dynamics means we’ll work worse as a unit,” Red said.
Sky sighed. “You’re too forgiving.”
“I don’t think you did anything wrong,” Red denied.
“We didn’t do it right, either; it hurt you,” Sky said, “you’re allowed to be annoyed by that.”
Red swiped Blue’s sword and started going through maintenance for it, since they were done with their own sword’s maintenance. “I don’t think you hurt me until you didn’t trust me about the colors.”
Sky shook their head with a scoff, but didn’t verbalize their disagreement.
Green rolled off of Red’s lap and took point, still with an undercurrent of amusement.