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Mar 28

Infected By Fireworks and Cinnamon Gum

Linked Universe Four Sword Fanfic - Cross-posted on AO3

Summary:

“Why are you so quiet?” Blue points out harshly.

Green - for the few moments he remains unaware - raises his head when no one answers, only to startle when he realises it’s directed at him. He splutters but it’s far too late to make an excuse as the group have all paused just to watch him.

“It’s nothing!” Green denies and at the staring, continues: “no, really, guys, it’s nothing…”

“Doesn’t *sound* like nothing…” Blue grumbles, snapping the notebook shut, “c’mon, speak up!”

Caught and guilty, Green swallows, pursing his lips.

“It’s just-! I’ve been thinking lately… about this adventure we’re on, our purpose, the Chain… I don’t really… I mean,” his voice is quiet and unusually shy, “do you guys really think it’s right for us to celebrate?

The Four Sword… being a ‘hero’? Is it right to give ourselves that title?”

or, TLDR: Blue is the only one with a braincell for once???

Word Count: 6687

“Okay, we’ve gotta do this real quiet, ‘cause I think they’re all sleeping…”

Vio is the last to slip through the bedroom door. With the lights to the hallway untouched, the four boys make their way downstairs with their shoes in hand. By light, they had formed an escape plan: they’d unwrapped the fabric tied on the Four Sword’s handle (the length of which was only used to deter the curious grip of their companions) and leant its body within reach of their bedside table; when the grandfather clock struck midnight, Four had brushed their hand against its bare grip and from there, became four. Through the dark, they paw against the walls, breathing slowly as they meet the guest room door. No lights are on and from the several moments they spend listening, all are asleep as well. Cotton socks pad their movements - calculated - hiding their journey through the house; every creaky floorboard skipped saves a groaning through the night and Green, testing his weight before taking a step, starts a path for the other three to follow.

Past the landing - where they had paused twice already - and down the steps to the living room door, the low flicker of light should have deterred them, but Green - turning back to the other three and hushing them with his fingers - slowly grasps the door knob and turns it, bit by bit, over the course of five seconds. To get to the backdoor was to get to the kitchen, and to get to the kitchen was to pass through the living room. With the strike popping out of its plate, the hinges moan as the door begins to open (much to their collective cringing). He peaks around the doorframe - watching, waiting - before signaling the three onwards.

Sky is laid before the fireplace snoring - the embers of the evening beginning to die out; on the couch lay Wild, sleeping disturbed from the fever that had consumed him, and by the couch’s side was Hyrule, knocked exhausted from using his healing magic. They move carefully, eyes trained on the three heroes at rest. Sky was a deep sleeper - they had nothing to fear of him - but the other two in question (one plagued to wake at random and the other on medical watch) were cause enough to move with grace. So they do. From the dying heat to ice, the still air of the kitchen welcomes them. They regroup on the cold tiles and pause when they hear movement. They stop for a moment… and when another minute passes, continue with their plan. They’d carefully planted their things by day in hidden but easy to reach places. Vio moves to the back door, hand on the latch as he works it open in silence; Green remains at the kitchen door, ears attuned to the sounds on the other side as Blue and Red fetch for their things.

The biscuit tin seems to scrape loudly as Blue ushers it off the side. It earns a glare from Vio who makes a gesture for him to be quiet: Blue would send a polite hand gesture back if his hands were free. He gets sent out the back first, settling on the porch to slip on his boots. Red, with the basket they’d packed and set by the cupboard doors, turns to be the next one out, only to misjudge the room in the dark and knock his hip into the table. He makes a strangled gasp of pain just as his eyes catch the glint of his fire-rod in the moonlight. The glass bulb loudly rolls on the wooden table-top and he watches as it meets the edge… and falls off. He flinches and waits for their fate - the crash that would get them caught.

It doesn’t come.

The table’s edge juts into Green’s stomach, who had leapt forward to catch the scepter, eyes wide and lips pursed. One hand keeps him steady where he leans across the oak, the other having met the handle centimetres before it met the floor. He trembles but remains still as he listens out for the heroes next door. When nothing but silence remains, he thaws and unfreezes with a soundless breath, relaxing against the wood. He steadies himself to stand, shoulders dropping as they all turn to glare at Red, who rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Blue grits his teeth, evidently holding himself back, and Vio gestures for Red to get out, Green following after. Crouching at Blue’s side to put on his shoes, Red earns a smack to the back of the head just as Vio shuts the door with a near inaudible click.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” he hisses, grumbling.

“I didn’t knock into it on purpose…!” Red stage-whispers back.

That earns an eye roll from Green who takes a step forward and fondly, albeit with the slightest hint of seriousness, turns to address the pair. “Stop arguing…!” he says, “we’re not out of the… ‘red’ yet… hehe.” “You’re not funny.”

The dew cries onto his boots as he moves onto the maia. He holds the fire-rod out to Red who happily takes and tucks it into the basket before joining Green at his side. They wait for Vio to put on his shoes before trekking on, the air lighter than expected, given the downpour days prior. The ankles of their trousers dampen and the house grows small with the distance; they come to the tree lines and Green holds back a branch as Blue takes the lead, disappearing into the woods. Vio passes next with a nod followed by Red who beams at him before passing into the grove. Green looks back at the house, at the dark, bullied windows, and with a final decisive nod, continues behind the rest.

Their destination isn’t far. Trudging past the abandoned minish-smeuses, the nightjars thrum and warble. Voles frisk from fixtures of pine, discarding their girdles in favour of fruit; they’re joined by the laments of grasshoppers - the dirges of bugs and crawlers - and when the canopy grows thick with branches arching above their heads, Red fetches the fire-rod from the basket, skipping forward to lead into the darkening brake. The glimmer of the rod hugs the haunted trees and when the bushes shuffle at their feet, they pause to watch the mice scatter. The path they walk is desired, formed from years of use; on the trees, marked gently, are ‘x’s’ and when they meet the rivulet - trickling slowly to the hill - they step over it to the bosky: their destination in sight.

Carved a short walk from the house was a clearing they knew well. Two trees stand born at each others side. They meet and marry where their trunks have curved, growing into a single arch where their bodies connect. It creates a perfect passage just above their roots for the four of them to pass through. Blue shoves past Red to the familiar glade. It was hidden, surrounded by sylvan bark and fragranced with moss. When Link’s Father was still a squire (and his own eyes were new to the world) Grandfather had overturned a spot in the woods; the copse he’d killed became a small area for practice and he’d put his young Father to work axing logs. At the time, every swing of the axe was a punishment, every kindle he dragged back to the house: a ball and chain. It withheld him from his sword - took him from his fighting - but from the task he’d learnt endurance, a lesson he’d soon pass down to Link. From his Father, he’d inherited the same impression of discipline; now, to Four, it was a place that held great sentiment.

They were content to withhold this place from the Chain, having agreed before to keep it sacred. Unlike the Four Sword temple, there were good memories here that had gone untainted; it would be against Link’s honour to stain it.

At the centre holds a tortured stump, his Father’s axe still cracked against it. Blue orders for its removal before dropping the biscuit tin down in its place, the head of the tin meeting the wood. Green - taking the axe into his hands - concerns himself with its weight before taking it to the side, chastising the sharpness of the blade. Though the area wasn’t abandoned, per say, the hanging targets Link used in his youth were still hung low with rot, baby arrows still marked inside of them. Vines had begun to grow on the standing targets and the only thing still in use was the log pile, replenished every time Grandfather needed more timber for the forge. Red and Vio remain at the centre, Red placing his basket down before spiking the fire-rod into the earth. He wiggles it in to keep it upright and gives Vio the thumbs up when he’s finished, joining Green and Blue in their struggle to drag some logs for seating.

Vio looks at the fire-rod and then turns back to face his shadow. Watching carefully, he opens his palms to brush down in front of his chest, bringing his left hand straight and vertical, gesturing behind him. He waits, listens to the sound of Green and Blue bickering, and when he receives no response, he fears his call isn’t received. His fingers curl into his palm impatiently and he crosses his arms, annoyed, eyes narrowing down as the shadow mimics his movement.

“Shadow, I’m not above starting without you.”

A sharp grin cracks into the head of his shadow and a pair of eyes open to look at him. From his toes, the shadow grows, arms stretched high above his head; Vio shakes his head and the shadow waves to him mischievously, flicking his right index and speaking: “hi, Vio!”

He’d been dormant too long and it was clear by the way he flickers over to Blue’s shadow (making him jump viciously) that he’d missed the group as well; Blue tries to stomp on Shadow in retaliation, but he quickly shifts to Green’s shadow much to Blue’s chasing. Vio scoffs in his own amusement before joining the group, hooking a finger into Blue’s collar to stop him. He helps drag the last log to the tree stump, the moon kissing the trees above them, before they all start to settle down. Vio stays by the fire-rod where his shadow would remain the strongest, a spot between the logs being left at his side for Shadow to insert himself. Green joins him to his left and Red playfully drags Blue by his shoulders to stand next to him, bouncing on his heels in excitement.

“Okay, okay!! Now that we’re all here and we’re all ready-” he begins, glowing, “me and Blue worked together this year to make an anniversary cake! Yay! I did all the shopping and got all the ingredients and then me and Dot did all the baking and then we assembled the cake and prepared all the icing and-”

“Hey, hey! Stop taking all the credit: my decorating’s nothing to sneeze at either!” Blue glowers, and Red laughs airily: “I was getting to that part!” Blue looks unimpressed but he kneels down to tempt the biscuit tin away from its lid anyway, waiting for Red to announce their creation.

“We present to you…! Drum roll please…” He stops until the group humours him - ‘Vio, I’m not revealing it until you join in!’ - getting them to drum roll on the fronts of their thighs: “coffee and deku-nut cake with the Four Sword front and centre!!”

Blue pops the tin off revealing, beneath it, the most peculiar cake. The icing disguises the baker's faults. Where the edges had begun to caramelize and burn under the heat of the oven, a knife had hacked at it to remove what was undesired, leaving the edges rough and crumbled. A dense, coffee stained buttercream rests as the cakes fill, sprinkled with finely diced deku-nuts that speckle across the cream. It sticks out between the two dry slabs of cake and over-top - defending their efforts - is the embellishments created by Blue. Icing marbled in blue and white, the clouds and sky are formed, meeting halfway with an army green piped out like strands of grass. On the borders are piped out gems and resting flatly in its centre, a fondant recreation of the Four Sword juts into its monument. Mirrored on the horizon is the Sword’s shadow, added in a way (Blue hopes) to make Shadow feel included too.

They coo over the decoration as Blue stands tall, chin up and boasting. Shadow creeps up one of the trees to have his own view of it and applauds slowly in surprise at Blue’s artistry.

“Wow, Blue!” Red chuckles, seeing the decoration for the first time, “that’s super cute!” “cute-!?” “I really like the gem on the Sword!” “thank you-“ “How did you make the Sword?” “I actually-“ “Because it seems complicated!” “Well, if you’d let me fini- WOAH WOAH HEY!”

Vio, amidst their chattering, had begun to stab in the candles close to the edges of the cake.

“What? We’re going to cut into it anyways. And besides, you’ll be the first to complain if there’s no candles on the cake.”

“Yeah, but you could at least appreciate the-! AGH, whatever, at least you didn’t put them in the middle…”

“…Did you want me to?” “NO-!”

Green, as the others uproar in laughter, stands to move on Red’s left, who settles down alongside Blue. With the wicker basket in place, he lifts the lid to unpack all they had brought. Five plates are partnered with glasses and forks. It’s followed by a large flask which Green raises an eyebrow at, popping off the lid and bringing it to his nose. Inside he finds the sweet scent of milk which he mistakes, at first, for tea.

“Red, seriously?” “Yeah?” “Lon Lon Milk?” “Yeah!” “To celebrate?” “To celebrate, yeah! I thought it would go well with the cake… no good?”

Not wanting to upset Red anymore than his questioning already has, he shakes his head in reassurance, giving him a thumbs up: “no! No, I trust your… decision making.”

Vio shifts open a pack of matchsticks before passing it to Red, who giddily receives them and sets the candles alight. Watching, Green begins to pour the pearlish liquid into the glasses, passing the first just as Red’s hands clear. He accepts it, passes it, and Blue begins to speak.

“Who’s saying the speech this time?” he asks, moving the glass passed from Green to Red to himself, who passes it to Vio who plants it on a spot on the ground by Shadow, “Green?”

“No, I did it last time, I thought it was gonna be Red-“ he argues, passing the next glass to Red who passes it to Blue who hands it flippantly to Vio.

“What?! But I don’t have anything planned!” Red receives a glass and passes it, keeping the next one, “I mean, I could always improvise-?”

“I’ll say the speech.”

They turn to Vio, who had spoken. He holds their gaze.

“I have something planned.”

He rises from the spot he’d perched, a hand placed behind his back. He looks distantly at a spot on the ground, waiting for Green to pour the last of his drink before he clears his throat and begins.

“We are gathered here today-“ “that’s a terrible opening…” “-to honour the day we all met.

Every year that passes, I’m reminded of the journey we’ve been on. I’m reminded of our hardships, of our growth; every battle we won, every enemy defeated… I know that I wouldn’t be where I am today without Link having drawn the Four Sword and… without having you guys at my side…”

He doesn’t need reassurance, though speaking from the heart makes a light pink stain his ears. He risks a glance across the group: Red sits crosslegged with a goofy, expectant smile, both hands wrapped around his glass; Blue just smirks at him and Green smiles. His eyes fall onto Shadow who feigns a yawn of boredom, drawing a chuckle from his lips. He shakes his head and clears his throat, exhaling slowly from his nose.

“I want to thank Link for drawing the Four Sword,” he begins with a smile that saddens slightly, “and to… Vaati… for bringing us *all* together.”

He peaks over his glass to check the reactions of the others, all of whom feel the same wash of melancholy at the mention of Vaati’s name. No one disagrees with him, or fights him for his speech, so he concludes with a bigger smile, raising his glass.

“Here’s to the Four Sword.”

“To the Four Sword!”

There’s a million other things he’d like to say. Of Link’s sacrifice, of the murder that became their birth; to Vaati and his corruption, to the loss of Link’s hard work. He doesn’t dare speak these thoughts of grief, for each person sacrificed is someone present born, and to diminish or condemn the departed was to insult the living here. For Vaati’s return and Shadow’s creation, Link’s work had to be sullied: to have Four was to have Link’s Soul split apart. Someone had to be put to slaughter, and it was their job now to value that.

“I didn’t know you could be sappy,” Blue remarks, bringing the cup to his lips, “I thought that was Red’s job!”

“If it were Red, the speech would be far less eloquent and have more blubbering,” Shadow interjects, poking at the shadow of his cup and making the real one shake.

“Well, would you be able to blame me?! It’s been aaaaages since we’ve been able to celebrate!” Red cheers, a little too loudly.

“We missed our anniversary by a few months,” Green adds, leaning back on one palm as he swirls the liquid in his cup.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel right celebrating in any one else’s world… and it’s not often the portal drops us back here,” Vio mentions.

“Waaaah… I missed you guys!!”

Red wails and latches onto Blue’s side, jostling him enough to make some of his drink spill onto his trousers. Immediately, he retaliates with a shout, attempting to pry Red off with a few sharp jabs with his elbow; when that doesn’t work, the fight inside him drains and he relents to let Red hug him, scowling. The thing that convinces him off is Vio, who offers to cut the cake. They blow out the candles together, Shadow looking a little unimpressed as he has no light of his own; Vio, seeing this, licks his fingers and pinches his candlelight instead before beginning to remove them. With the cake marked into five equal sections, Vio cuts and dishes the slices out. They settle into a comfortable chatter, catching up on recent events.

Shadow (after attempting to eat the shadow of the fifth slice to no physical effect) had begun to eat his own cupcake from the Shadow Realm; spotting this, Blue gets an idea for next year's cake and pulls out a notepad to sketch it. Vio and Shadow make pleasant chatter and Red pipes in when they begin talking about books (“Shadow! How’s your blog going? Any new chapters for your fic?” Red asks, oblivious. Shadow - if shadows could flush from embarrassment - flails his hands around and pouts, “don’t mention that in front of Vio!”).

Tapping. Blue’s eyes lift to find the source of the noise, settling on Green: silent and dazed. His fork taps irritatingly against the side of his plate and it’s that noise that brings his attention to his untouched cake. Eyebrow raised and surprisingly astute to this, Blue speaks up.

“Why are you so quiet?” he points out harshly.

Green - for the few moments he remains unaware - raises his head when no one answers, only to startle when he realises it’s directed at him. He splutters but it’s far too late for him to make an excuse, the group all pausing to watch him.

“It’s nothing!” Green denies and at the staring, continues: “no, really, guys, it’s nothing…”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing…” he grumbles, snapping the notebook shut, “c’mon, speak up!”

“Is it the cake?” Red worries, eyes flickering to his plate before returning to his face, eyes beginning to glimmer with water, “I’ll be honest, I did burn it a little but I thought I got most of it off!”

“No! No, guys really it’s not you and it’s not the cake-“ “-but it’s something,” Vio points out, setting his own plate aside to lean forward.

Caught and guilty, Green swallows, pursing his lips as he peers down at his legs. They must see something in the way the light catches in his eyes because one moment his hands are trembling with the force he grips his fork and the next Red’s hand is clasped around it, prying it from his grasp and setting it aside. Vio crosses his legs, a hand brought up to his mouth in the way he does when he’s thinking, and something seems to fall into place in his head; the look he gives him is rueful, and he ushers his name.

“Green…” he starts, almost as a warning, only for Green to laugh at the pity in his tone.

Blue tenses slowly. The familiar sense of dread teases at his neck and he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. Notebook tucked back in his pocket, he narrows his eyes before speaking, tone rougher than he intends.

“What the hell do you mean ‘is it right for us to celebrate’?”

“The Four Sword, being a ‘hero’. Is it right to give ourselves that title?”

“What-?? Of course it is! Who saved the Picori?” “Link did.” “-uh, okay, SMARTASS, who saved Zelda? Who saved Hyrule from the Demon Lord?!” “We all… did…”

“So why the hell are you doubting it?! Why are you doubting us?”

Green stares at Blue for a moment, feeling small under his scrutiny. Realistically, he knows Blue is just trying to understand - that his shouting is from fear rather than anger - but this had been on his mind for a while now and it was only a matter of time before Green would crack. The conversation he’d had with Legend a few moons ago (when Legend had startled from bad dreams and Green was awake to comfort him) had wrapped around his mind like rope, and though he’d kept it quiet from the others, a mountain had formed from an ant hill and poisoned Green’s mind with doubt.

He refuses to acknowledge it: Legend’s words. He refuses to repeat them out loud for the others to hear, refuses to relive the acrid scent of ash - to see his expression reflected on the others. He does, however, know that the others have felt the way he’s stared at them before, with that same accusation and underlying suspicion. He knows, at least, that the others feel the same way about this, and maybe that’s why Blue looks so angry.

“We’ve all felt the way the Chain treats us, right? How Legend looks at us? I just feel like, I don’t know, like we don’t really belong with the group? And I’m starting to ‘think’ he can sense it too,” he swallows, looking over the group, “I’m starting to think that we’re a- that we’re a ‘false hero’. I don’t know if it’s because of Shadow but-”

Glass shatters. They jump, heads snapping to the side where shards are now pinned into the tree stump. Shadow (from the gyve of Vio’s heels) had grown tall and enraged, contorting the shadow of his cup and throwing it in demurral. He’s rigid, shoulders hiked up to his ears and his body wavers with heavy, agitated breaths; their attention now on him, he forces himself to relax, eyebrows pinched together in pain. He looks devastated, and it’s only now that Green realises he’s spoken terribly out of line. Shadow jabs his hands towards him.

“Are you saying it’s because of me?” he asks, hands moving sharply as he speaks, “because I’m ‘Shadow’? I make you less ‘hero’?”

“What-? No! No, no, no, no - Shadow that’s not what I’m saying at all! That’s not what I meant when I said- AGH, God, that makes me sound like such a prick-”

“Because you DO sound like a prick!” Blue snaps, standing up in Shadow’s defence, “false hero? Because of Shadow? How else are we meant to interpret that?!”

“I didn’t mean it like that-!” he cries. “-then how did you mean it, Green?! Because from what I’m hearing you don’t think any of us here are worthy of being called a hero!”

He groans loudly, burying his head into his hands and pressing his palms to his eyes. A warm hand rests on his back and when he looks up Red smiles at him. His eyes water and the sweet candy red staring back only makes Green feel sicker: the innocent wonder in Red’s eyes - the genuine concern painted inside them - makes him feel like a dying dog; the outcome would be inevitable, and speaking his thoughts aloud was his death sentence. He turns to check on Shadow, seeing how his body ripples like he’d disappear any moment, and he knows he owes it to him to be honest even at the expense of Red’s blissful ignorance. His eyes shift to Vio, noticing the way he stills in return. But it’s already too late: Green’s caught him. He speaks.

“...I’m not the only one who has thought about it,” he defends quietly, “right, Vio?”

Grimacing, Vio leans back from the conversation like that would somehow stop it. The eyes settle on him now - at the way his face seems to contort in guilt - and Shadow is the first to say his name, looking betrayed when Vio sets his gaze away from him. He bides his time as he chooses his words, tuning back in to give Shadow a shake of his head, denying his role in Green’s insecurity.

“Shadow, it’s nothing to do with you or I…” he says.

“Then what is it?” Shadow asks, impatient, “if you’re not a ‘true hero’ after everything you’ve been through then… what am I? What are you- what are we?”

Vio’s nose crinkles. He had been the first to notice - the first to keep something a secret - but the reality still tasted sour when the truth was seconds from his tongue. It was only a matter of time before he brought this up to the others and yet no amount of time could have prepared him to talk. He leans forward, forearms pressed to his knees, gawks, pauses, clasps his hands in prayer before he looks across the group. His words are slow, methodical, and he weighs the impact each one will have. At last, he begins

“On the back of Sky’s hand… what’s on it?”

(Showing it off for the first time, Four had hummed and awed. Away from the group’s festivities, Sky had held his hand out for Four to see, the pair settled on a fence abandoned somewhere in Twilight’s universe.)

“The Triforce?” Red answers, voice small.

(They’d seen the symbol before, carved in stone, yet nothing in their books had alluded to its power. They couldn’t recognise it for what it was nor could they put a label to it: glowing below Sky’s knuckles, unfamiliar and bright, was the Triforce.)

“And on the back of Twilight’s? Wind’s? Wild’s?”

(When asked, Sky had given Four a look of confusion, presuming - of course - that the Hero would have a mark of his own. As the fireworks set off, he could see his reflection in his ancestor’s pupils; when he blinked, the Village stared back. Shame, like cotton, had jammed into his throat.)

“The Triforce, Triforce, Triforce- what of it?!”

(That night, half-conscious, Four laid beneath Twilight’s uncanny constellations, strung up above them in peace. The sky was clear, the air humid: he could still remember the stench of gunpowder as it set into his clothes.)

“He and the others in the Chain all have something called the ‘Triforce of Courage’,” Vio carries on, calm in the face of Blue’s storm.

(Four’s eyes were fields of violet under the cast of moonlight. He thought about it, tracing a finger from star to star, and then he understood.)

“It’s the one consistency across the other Universes that I’ve been able to find, alongside the Legend of the Hero, of the Goddess and of Ganon,” Vio concludes.

“When I said, ‘because of Shadow’, I didn’t mean it like that,” Green speaks, the eyes turning to him, “I- I jumbled my words and I phrased it wrong and I’m sorry I didn’t word it correctly…” he apologises, speech wet as he peers over at Shadow. He lets his gaze drop again. “There’s something about us that inherently sets us apart from the rest and I think Legend and Hyrule can sense it too.”

Figure wound up, Green picks at the skin of his arms. His mouth parts, then he shudders, and his face scrunches like he’s in pain. He forces the bile down, forces his head up, and forces himself to tell them the truth - bare and coated in ivy. The forest stills around them.

“I don’t think we’re a false hero because of Shadow,” he tells them, “I think we’re a false hero because we weren’t chosen… because WE don’t have the Triforce.”

From his right, he can pick up the sudden hitch of breath; from his left, the sound when shoulders drop. The warm hand that had comforted him falls from his back and strangely its absence is what keeps him grounded. It reminds him of a few years back, when Four had confessed to his Grandfather their broken nature. He remembers the shame (heart hammering) and the vague scent of firewood; he shuts his eyes to avoid their stares and waits, nails digging into his flesh. The humiliation of being less than what was expected: to embarrass Link for what he was meant to be. His blood pulses, the pressure behind his eyes continues to grow, and Green finds no peace in his honesty. He bites his lip and-

“Yap-yap-yap, that’s how you sound right now!”

Green startles, head snapping up to face Blue. He continues, if only to mock him.

“‘Boohoo, we weren’t chosen by the Goddess,’ yeah, and what? Do you know how pathetic you sound?”

“You are missing the point!” Green snaps.

“And what point am I missing exactly?! That you’re bringing the mood down with this pointless BULLSHIT-” “For Gods- Listen to what I’m trying to say-!” “No, cuz all I hear is pointless whining! Why am I being the voice of reason right now: Vio, Shadow, SOMEONE say something!”

Vio lets out a bitter laugh, head hanging back before he slouches forward in despair

“Do you really think I have a right to say anything?” he scoffs, training his eyes away from the group but especially away from Shadow, “I can’t even save one person: what kind of hero is that?”

Exasperated, Blue throws his hands up in the air, looking over at Shadow for support. He watches as he reaches towards Vio and recoils, unable to truly be there for him, and his own special form of guilt forms; when their eyes meet, Blue makes a gesture for him to talk some sense into the group, only to get a similar defeated response.

“I’m not… really a hero…” he answers, only adding fuel to Blue’s fury. His teeth clench hard enough he thinks he hears them crack and his eyes practically bulge from his skull. For once, he turns to Red for help who adamantly avoids his gaze, picking at the fabric of his laces. His eyes continue to twitch in irritation and he looks around the group like he’s actually going insane.

“How have you gotten it in your thick skulls that we aren’t a ‘true hero’?! Why have you chosen this to be stubborn about?” Blue continues to argue, Red whimpering in turn.

“The absence of the Triforce I’d say is proof enough!” “Guys… please…” “I can agree we’re a hero in our own right, but with the context of the Chain, we can’t say we’re-” Green’s cut off by Blue: Red continues to plead.

“Am I the only sane one here?! Can someone please take my side?”

“GUYS!”

Red stands like lightning and howls like thunder: the group stun in shock. Red - the boy who would cry for stepping on an ant, whose joy was as quick to spark as a match - was not one who was quick to anger, if he ever got angry at all. But like a dam, there was a limit, and the faucets behind his eyes had turned, violent and frustrated. He rubs at them viciously, the silent tears growing more pronounced now that he had spoken; he sobs into his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes in an attempt to make them stop. As the silence festers, Shadow takes to Red’s heels, peering up at his face from the floor. It’s the most he can do to comfort, where Blue and Vio refuse to help - the former, planted firmly on the ground, and the latter being cause for his state. Green hovers a hand nearby him, guilt and uncertainty keeping him stuck. Red doesn’t shout: this was something new and impulsive. It takes several gasps for Red to regain control again - the trembling of his body easing - but when he does, his hands grip at the fabric of his elbows and he hunches slightly where his stomach churns. His voice crackles when he speaks.

“I’m sorry for shouting,” he starts, sniffling grossly and wiping his nose with the back of his palm, “but you guys are forgetting why we’re here in the first place!”

Another deep breath through his nose, he forces the new wave of tears back, clearing his throat completely before he even attempts to speak again.

“We aren’t here to celebrate being a Hero, we’re here together for us, for each other, for them! Link and Vaati… the Four Sword… we’re meant to spend our anniversary honouring them!”

Blue, seeming to have found his ally, steps forward to speak, only to stop when seeing Red’s face. His teeth worry at his lip in the same way it does when he still has more to say - when there hasn’t truly been a conclusion reached. His heart drops.

“But… I see the logic,” he admits, eyes dropping to his shoes, “Green, Vio… The one thing that connects all of them is the fact they have the Triforce of Courage, right? What do we have? What connects us to them? We don’t… belong with the group, not in the same way they belong with each other…”

Stepping back, Blue breaths out, slow, steady, unusually controlled for the reactive spirit he is. He brings a hand to his head and brushes his bangs back, feeling betrayed when even Red takes Vio and Green’s side.

“Where the hell is this coming from with you guys…?” Blue chokes, “get that-! Get that thought out of your heads…”

“But you see the logic too, right? Okay, fine, we’re a hero, but we’re not… truly a part of the Chain, are we?”

‘A weak Link’ Vio thinks in his head but doesn’t voice. He doesn’t want to disrespect Link anymore than he has tonight, and he knows saying that would spark another fight. Blue, a weak noise dying in his throat, releases his fists and turns away, not wanting to cave. He slumps back down onto the log with a heavy sigh, crossing his arms and ankles to curl into himself.

“You guys are terribly stubborn,” he huffs, annoyed.

Red wipes the last remaining tears from his eyes, looking over the group hopefully, “at least we have each other, right? That’s what our anniversary is meant to be about: being a team! It’s not about… the Chain…” he trails off.

Green grimaces, flinching back at his words.

“I should apologise,” he murmurs, wringing his hands. Red settles back down at Green’s side, hugging his knees. “I’m not meant to… I’m meant to be the one keeping us together. All I’ve done tonight is tear us down.”

“Damn straight,” Blue scoffs, earning a crisp smack to the head by Vio, “I mean- apology accepted…” and after a moment, “I still think you’re an idiot.” “Yeah, I know…”

Green turns to Shadow next, sheepish, “I really am sorry… I should’ve explained myself better.”

“It’s fine…” “It’s not-” “No really it is! I broke your glass so we’re even! And… I reacted without letting you finish… so, again, we’re even!” Shadow shrugs, resting his hands behind his head and switching back to Vio’s side who, in turn, speaks next.

“I should apologise too,” he starts, “if I brought this all up sooner… if I had spoken to you about this before… then maybe this wouldn’t have happened tonight.”

“Get off your high horse!” Blue snaps back, unravelling, “if you brought it up sooner, I would have just set you straight sooner!” and when that doesn’t work to lighten the mood, he checks over the group until his eyes land on Red again, his lips cracking into a grin. “Who knew Red could be the voice of reason?” “Hey! I can be pretty smart too!” he pouts and then sniffles again, “eugh… I love you guys!!”

He latches onto Green’s side and buries his face into his shoulder: Green shifts to accommodate, wrapping an arm around his waist. He looks over at Vio, at Blue and at Shadow, and gestures for them to join. When Blue glares at the mere suggestion of a group hug and Shadow asks how the hell he’s meant to join in when he’s a shadow, Red and Green look at each other before nodding. Leaping at Blue, Red tackles him to the floor and Green, dragging Vio over to where the pile was being made, forces them all to cuddle on the floor. Strangely, in the gaps where the light gets blotted out by their bodies, Shadow can also feel the warmth of the group, and for a few moments they lay there, content and happy in the wet grass.

“It’s almost daybreak,” Green says, staring up at the sky, “and we need to get back before someone wakes up,” yet none of them move to leave.

Sighing, he pushes himself up onto his elbows, shifting to look over at the boys by his side. The weight he had been carrying felt no lighter: the tension in the air already dissolved. But the hole he’d dug was far too big to cover. Vio had helped plant the seed, and from there doubt had sprung its roots. It spread across each of their veins and - like vines to a building - began to eat at their soul. Vio is the next to move, seeing Green with a pitiable smile. He reaches a hand for him to clasp and that’s when Green remembers.

When they’d confessed to their Grandfather their broken nature, he had remembered the shame and the vague scent of firewood, but he’d forgotten the way Grandfather had wrapped them up in his arms and smiled. He still smelt ash, of course, still felt tears burning in his eyes, but Grandfather brought with him the rich smell of coffee. “It’s alright,” he said, kindly, “my boys, it’s okay. There’s more than enough work for all of you here in the forge.” And that was the end of that. Here, with his brothers laid in a clearing of deku trees, the same nutty scent returns, and he lets himself get fooled into peace.

#linked universe au #legend of zelda #loz four swords #four swords #minish cap #loz fanfic #hurt/angst #hurt/no comfort #hurt/comfort #(depends on how you read this one i guess)#angst with a bittersweet ending #light angst #minx-writes #i think that’s all i need to tag #uh more detailed tags in ao3…?

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