As predicted, the sun began to droop beneath the horizon. The mangled ruins of the temple of time had managed to swallow away any of its remaining radiance. As you entered the temple your finger traced against the cobblestones of the doorway, the history tangible against your touch. Ahead, a giant goddess statue stood surveillance.

If your research was correct, beneath it would be treasure. Enough treasure to help your starving family whose fate hate been determined by the advent of the great calamity. There was a reason you chose the ruins of the Temple of Time and not those of Hyrule Castle Town, where you once lived.

First, you knew looters had already picked it over. Second, you couldn't bear to see the shreds of a life you would never live again decimated around your feet.

Well, then there was the fact there were still guardians rumored to be attacking any remaining civilians.

The truth of the matter was that your family could have had it much worse. They made do renting a small room out in a house built by Hudson Constructions in Hateno. But a room was not enough for your aging parents and their flowering, rebellious daughter.

You concocted a plan. Through the many moving mouths of Hateno gossip, there were multiple rumors of treasure throughout the many ramshackles and demolitions that remain throughout Hyrule. The Temple of Time was not only your first choice because of its history throughout the royal family, but the trail through the dueling peaks was less perilous than, say, Eldin or the Gerudo wastelands.

Then there was also the rumor of the hero put into cryonisis somewhere around the plateau.

Truthfully, you never believed that rumor or that the princess was still alive in the castle, holding off the malice from ravaging the rest of the land.

But if the princess had saved her knight and put him into a temporary centennial coma, you couldn't help but wonder—was he cute? Why else would she have gone through all that trouble?

You walked forward, amused by the direction of your thoughts. Calamity Ganon didn't just destroy Hyrulian infrastructure, but he also annihilated all of the hotties that once lived within it. But you didn't have time to fantasize about men and love.

You had bigger goals, and that was to secure a treasure worth enough rupees to build your family their own home. As you approached the goddess statue, your reverie was ruptured by the sound of a snort.

It was the first noise you had heard besides your own footsteps in hours. And very well about to be your last. Before you knew it, you felt your body slam into the unforgiving unevenness of the marble floor. The snorting now penetrating your eardrum accompanied by droplets of plump saliva.

"ACK!"

You looked up to see the predatory gaze of a Bokoblin atop you. Its weight pushed your body hard into the pebbles and stones on the ground, causing painful indents on your skin.

You floundered beneath it, noticing your knapsack, which had slid off and now rested out of reach by your kicking feet.

"NO!" You hollered, your jaw clenched as you did your best to keep the beast from advancing on top of you. A temporary reprieve came as the beast stopped fighting against you. Only to raise its claw and gash the buttons off of your shirt.

My family... they depend on me... please...

The goddess statue looked down at you with no remorse. The Bokoblin lifted its claw ready to strike again. You scrunched your eyes closed, bracing for impact.

Until you heard a confident yet soft voice command, "BEAST! RELEASE HER!"

A streak of muddled brown and beige crossed your vision, and suddenly your body felt light. The bokoblin flew against a wall, its body cascading down, purple blood splattering across some of the fractured columns.

You looked at the dead bokoblin in shock. Then toward the figure standing before its dead body.

He turned and peered at you from over his shoulder. He held a giant stick in his hand, tossing it to the ground before turning around.

His scraggly mess of golden hair was tied in a loose ponytail and the clothes he wore were in worse shape than the body of the dead bokoblin. But none of that really caught your attention like the face wearing those rags.

A really handsome face.

"Maiden? Are you harmed?" He stood, remaining at a safe distance. You became aware of your tattered top that revealed too much skin and quickly gathered it with a slight glow of your cheeks.

"I—um," his cobalt eyes remained aloof, observing you with concern.

"Yes. Thank you. If you hadn't been here... but why are you here?" He walked over to your knapsack and picked it up, handing it to you.

"I should be asking you that question. A young woman should not be roaming these fields alone."

You glanced at the stick he dropped. You felt a lump form in your throat. This man had defeated this creature with a mere stick. If he had possessed a blade, goddess, he would have been formidable. You returned your eyes to his. "A young man with a stick should not be also."

This made him smirk. "What do you call yourself?"

His vernacular was outdated but you managed to understand him somehow. "Y/N. And what do you call yourself?"

It was as if he didn't expect you to ricochet his question back to him. After an awkward long pause, he responded. "I am told I am called Link."

Great. The first cute guy I've met in eons, and he'doesn't even know his name. Still... Your eyes wandered over the way the cheap cotton could not seem to house the generous round bulges of his biceps.

"I should be going. Thank you again, Link."

"Wait!" He gently grabbed your shoulder, halting you. "It's dangerous to go alone! It is nightfall, and many monsters roam. I have a camp not far from here. Please. Stay by my side this evening."

A small satchel swung from his belt loop; he fumbled with releasing it before pulling out a mushroom. "I also possess food. See?" He twirled the mushroom around between his fingers before lifting it to his mouth and taking a huge bite.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING! You can't just eat raw mushrooms like that! Where did you come from? Beneath a rock?"

He shook his head. "No, I hail from a shrine."

Suddenly the roles had reversed, and you decided you didn't want to leave Link alone. You sighed. "I have flint. Let's make ourselves a fire, and we can grill those mushrooms. I have some carrot and pumpkin too."

Link walked over to the stick he had used to fight the Bokoblin. Specks of blood dotted the tip. "We can use this."

"Ah-" You grabbed the stick from him. "No, no! It's ok, I have a small pot with me!"

You both began to saunter outside of the temple, the vacant stare of the goddess lingering on your backs. Link stopped, looking back at the statue. "I come to this temple often. It is as though the goddess; she speaks to me."

His tone was empty; his eyes filled with a sorrow you couldn't place. Moonlight filtered through cracks in the temple's walls, and its soft glow baptized him. Much like the destruction of the temple, you could see slits and scars of bygone havoc peeking out beneath the collar of his shirt.

This boy. Is he really just a vagrant? 

Only the goddess knew, and she wasn't talking.

The following hours seeped by with a voracious speed. Before you knew it, the sun broke forth, splashing the great plateau's fields with hues of crimson and citrine.

You had learned absolutely nothing about Link. But in those few short hours, he had learned everything about you. He seemed to digest all of your stories as quickly as he digested the delicious, glazed veggies you cooked for him.

"This village, Hateno, perhaps I shall seek it next." He grabbed his satchel, only instead of a mushroom, he pulled out a Sheikah Slate.

"Link! A Sheikah Slate?" You grabbed it from him, your voice elated. "Here. I'll program it for you so that you can find my village. Please, you must come. I can get you some new clothes!" You bit your lip. "Er, I mean, not that your clothes are bad or—"

He chuckled softly. "No, it is quite alright. Perhaps I do require new garments."

A silence as warm as the new dawn spread between you both. So far, his decorum was nothing but that of a gentleman. A knightly chivalry, almost. But now, as his eyes stared with an overt, lascivious hunger at your lips, it prompted you to react. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head. "How uncouth. Forgive me."

Despite his apology, his brows remained furrowed as if recalling something.

"Link?" He snapped his head in your direction.

"I am told I am called Link yet it does not sound as though it belongs to me. But when your lips say it, it is shelter, it is home." He stood brushing off his tarnished trousers.

"I shall see you in Hateno. I must attend to matters before I join you again, maiden." His head pointed in a direction absently, as if he was listening to someone or something speak to him. He looked down at you after a moment. "On my troth, I shall join you again. Y/N."

He had finally said your name, and the intimacy it created was indubitable. He held his hand down, allowing you to grab onto it and pull you onto your feet. His hand held onto yours, not releasing it from its clasp. "Maybe next time, you can tell me about yourself?"

His mouth opened, and he fought against a word on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he smiled. "I shall."

You both stood; the empty rolling fields no longer felt barren thanks to the enormity of the presence of Link and all his secrets.

You looked over at the temple, remembering why you had come in the first place.

But there was a greater treasure next to you. And you decided you weren't leaving without it.

"Link?"

"Hm?"

You bounced up on your tippy toes, planting a soft, firm kiss on his lips. His eyes flew open, his Adam's apple ricocheting up and down in his throat as his lips hung in shock. Something had been activated within him. He grabbed your waist and pulled you into him.

He crashed his mouth against yours, his teeth collided with your own as he pushed his tongue past the threshold of your lips. His hands clawed at your face as he held you there, sucking against your tongue. He broke the kiss with the same inhalation of breath as if he had been underwater.

"You don't remember your name, but you remember how to do that?"

He grinned. "My lips know the requirements of your own. Now go forth. Your treasure waits."

Your fingers caught against the thin fabric of his tunic as you pulled him back toward you. "I already found it."

The cyclical war of good and evil had taken its toll down the timeline. Dues were paid in blood and flesh. Link knew this. He knew this very, very well. It was hard to ignore given the fact of it was branded into his skin. Time and time again, life through life he can understand his place. He was a means to an end in the eyes of many. He was a saviour to the others.

He was a Hero.

Even if sometimes he really wishes he weren’t.

He knew that he was unlikely to finish things. But perhaps with enough blood, with enough effort, with enough pain he could bring an end to things.

He’d paid in flesh. As many of the victims of the calamity did.

He was covered in scars, gained both prior and post the guardian ending his life for the first time. But make no mistake, it was not the matter of the scar that bothered him. The uneven texture in his skin wasn’t uncanny after a while. Skin was just skin. He didn’t feel much like himself anyway, so it wasn’t like it mattered. It wasn't the flush of blood or streaks of uncanny colour that bothered him. Well that’s not to say they never did. The looks he got while walking through villages were less than enjoyable, but you quelled that. One soft, loving glance and the whole world doesn’t matter. Let alone their hostility.

It was perhaps the sight of you now that made him hate his scar.

It was the reminder of what it meant.

The mold. The rot. The decomposition.

Malice, as the people called it.

And Oh how he hated it.

He was not usually so squeamish. The squelch of a dying monster or the marr of an unmoving corpse had never really bothered him. Not when it was his purpose.

The former was the before stages of the rot. It was just spilled blood. It was just body. Of course it wasn’t really living persay, but it was close enough that all he had to do was ignore the glassy eyes and he was fine. The latter was when the rot was already over. The bones were picked clean, the blood and flesh returned to the earth to start anew. Bones would always just be bone.

It was the inbetween that really, really began to bother him.

It was tender flesh melting and oozing. It was soft tissue becoming home to fungi. It was the body no longer being a body but not quite bone. It was You laboured to breath, the wind a hollow whistle in your lungs. It was how your eyes fluttered, bloodshot. It was how your tears were cold against your feverish skin, the salty beads puss filled and gorey. It was how your skin was pale and patchy in places, flushed pigmented and unhealthily purple in others. Your skin was sunken and sagged. It was how your skin was plump and pushed awkwardly against your bones.

The malice seeped through your blood. It pushed through your injuries, webbing over your skin and casting roots into muscles.

And all he could do was weep.

He was utterly useless.

He sat by your bedside for weeks as Purah tried her hardest to fix you.

He kept staring down at you, replaying everything. It should’ve been him. You should’ve never been there. He could do nothing but watch as that disgusting thing whittled you down to nothing. Malice clinging to your skin; you screamed. A noise of such absolute agony he nearly dropped the mastersword where he stood.

He knew the dues were paid in blood. In body. In bone.