#robyn writes

You all sat by the campfire after yet another long day of long walks punctuated by not long breaks and long fights. You were exhausted, from both the physical toll taken by the day as well as from dealing with Legend’s near constant attempts to make everyone hate you. Heck, you were almost starting to hate yourself because of him. You had to forcibly remind yourself that he’s likely only lashing out because your knowledge of everyone’s adventures probably made him feel vulnerable. You yawned and turned your focus to other things.

Your mind relaxed as you looked around. Your head was leaned to the right on Wild’s shoulder, and Hyrule sat curled up in front of you with his head in your lap. Wind had finally tired of regaling the chain with yet another tall tale, and thus had retired to intently watching Sky as he worked on a new carving. Twilight, Time, and Warriors were conversing in a relaxed manner, laughing at stories of Time’s shenanigans in the War of Eras as “Mask.” They told some embarrassing stories, and Time held a near perpetual blush in his ears and a fake annoyed expression thinly veiling his amusement. Four was quietly polishing his various weapons, making sure they were well-maintained for any future skirmishes. And finally, there was the chain’s resident salt shaker, the Veteran. Legend sat a few feet to your left, not-so-subtly eyeing you with jealousy and what you might label “loathing,” probably because Hyrule had chosen you as his pillow instead of his predecessor. He pretended to sort through his myriad of magical jewelry, but you knew better. You also knew better than to call him out at the moment.

Everyone (mostly) was at peace, full from a good supper provided by Wild, happy from the stories Wind had told, and now content to do as they pleased until it was time for the first watch to start. By your guess, each of the three watches lasted three hours, 9 PM - 12 AM, 12 AM - 3 AM, and 3AM - 6 AM, or just after sunrise, depending on the season. It was about 8:30, and your eyes had been drooping for an hour already. You let your mind wander as you stared into the fire, pondering where the tips of the flames disappeared to as they peaked and vanished, dipping back to the firewood just to jump up once more a second later.

All too soon Wild was nudging you and Rulie back to your own bedrolls as Sky set up for his watch period. You hazily recalled meaning to clean the mud and blood off your shoes as you took them off, but decided to just do it in the morning before you all set off again. It’s not like the stains were going anywhere while you slept. You were out almost as soon as you pulled up your blanket to your chin. You didn’t even hear Wild’s small chuckle as he tucked you in before he walked away to his own sleeping spot.

Your faint dreams of red eyes haunting the dark corners of endless mazes were interrupted by a twig snapping by your face. You inhaled sharply as your eyes flew open to assess the situation, but relaxed once you saw that it was just Sky going to wake Legend up for his shift on watch. He glanced down to you and offered a sleepy smile of apology, which you returned in kind, before nuzzling deeper into your pillow (which was unfortunately rather thin and small, but you figured that even if you had brought a full-size memory foam pillow from home, it wouldn’t stand a chance of fitting into your bag, no matter how enhanced it might be).

You faintly heard the Vet bemoan his fate as second watchman before his blanket rustled and he walked to the fire. You’re pretty sure he intentionally stepped on the same twig as Sky had when he passed by you, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a flinch. Through half-lidded eyes you could vaguely see the grouch circle the camp before sitting on a log before the fire and facing the woods that surrounded your camp. He was even more grumpy tonight, because not only was he designated for the worst shift ever, but he didn’t even have a choice as Time forced it upon him due to a particularly scathing remark he’d made towards you earlier in the day.

You tried not to focus on his insults and apparent hatred, you really did, but recently it was getting harder to ignore. His questioning of Hyrule’s sudden loyalty to you turned to questioning everyone’s desire to not kick you out or abandon you to the next monster camp they found. He seemed convinced you were either an evil witch who forced Hyrule and Wild to love you, a monster disguised to destroy them, or even a direct agent of Dark Link (who you’d not-so-affectionately dubbed “Dink”) and planned to betray them all any day now. You, in turn, had stopped vehemently insisting you were harmless, and eventually resigned yourself to simply not rise to the bait of his stinging statements of distrust. You knew he’d been through a lot of pain and loss through his many journeys, but that didn’t excuse his treatment of you. Only your mother’s advice kept you somewhat sane — “bullies only prosper when you give them a reaction. If you don’t react, they have less reason to target you.” And yet, Legend’s berating only continued.

You silently huffed a sigh and turned around to lay on your other side, facing away from the fire. You didn’t really love the idea of turning your back to the one person who very clearly wanted you to cease existing, but you knew he had enough sense not to literally stab you in the back when you were both surrounded by witnesses who would decidedly not appreciate such a thing. Plus, the fire was too bright for your sleepy eyes anyway. You started a breathing exercise, prayed you’d assumed correctly about not getting murdered by your upset comrade tonight, and closed your eyes again.

——

An hour or so later you quietly groaned and sat up. Not only could you not fall asleep, but your bladder was beginning to rebel against the idea of waiting until morning to relieve yourself. The chain had made camp just a ways off from a wide yet shallow creek, and you decided that since you were already awake, you might as well go ahead and rinse your shoes off, too. That way they’d be dry in the morning and you wouldn’t have to worry about walking around in shoes that made your socks cold and wet. You shuddered at the thought and slowly stood, stretching your arms above your head and popping your back, then bending down to pick up your shoes and a bar of soap you’d bought in the town you all just passed through.

Legend spared you a calculating glance from his seat, saying nothing. You simply waved with your free hand and then signed “toilet” before walking away to take care of business. You didn’t have to look over your shoulder to know that he was staring holes into the back of your head; you could practically feel him doing so anyway. You sighed, choosing to instead focus on the foliage you passed on your walk, faintly illuminated by the fire back at camp and the dim glow from a bracelet Wild had given you. He said he’d used a brightbloom seed to make it, and you had been sure to express your gratitude. It was much easier than having to carry a torch, which was not only difficult if your hands were full, but was also very bright to your still-asleep eyes. That, and you’d almost started a forest fire last time you’d been entrusted to carry a torch when you weren’t yet fully awake (once the crisis had been averted, Legend of course claimed that you had done it on purpose, but you were so tired that you just gave him a deadpan stare with a raised eyebrow and plopped back onto your bedroll to resume sleeping).

After answering nature’s call and washing your hands, you sat criss-cross by the creek, took off your dirtied shoes, and started splashing them in the frigid water. It was colder than you’d expected, but everything barring your hands was still warm enough, and it helped shock you to be more awake and aware. You used some more of your soap to aid your struggle against the grossness crusted onto your shoes, thankful that they were made from something like leather, so it wouldn’t be too difficult to clean once you actually got started. As you washed, you listened to the sounds of the world around you, now returned since you were no longer disrupting their peace.

A sound like cricket chirps mixed with owl coos set the backdrop for the soundscape, while the occasional breeze played with leaves and stuck them in your hair. If you listened closely enough and stopped your washing, you swore you could almost hear the life within the flowers and greenery by your feet, the very soul of the land of Hyrule, its perseverance, growth, progress and patience, all poured with a parent’s care into each and every living thing it supported, down to the smallest weed by the creek bed where you sat.

The water before you seemed to whisper, not in the way the Sheikah technology would, but more like it was a living feeling, as if it wanted to impart to you the knowledge it had picked up on its journey to this place. You had heard a story, once, that water could hold memories; that every molecule of water in the world has existed since creation, for it cannot be created or destroyed by those who need it to survive. Every single drop had a story to tell, an event it had witnessed, a place it had once called home. Perhaps some of the water burbling and giggling before you was the same way — some of it might have seen the rise and fall of entire civilizations, the existence of every single hero, princess, and villain up to that very moment — and it would continue to amass these secrets, both big and small, every detail it would pass by, and no one would ever fully decipher its stories, its warnings, its wisdom and playfulness. And even so, it would continue to exist and endure, trickling on through the ages and epochs.

You were somewhat prone to these random philosophical trains of thought, and had thus been unknowingly sitting, unmoving, almost unblinking, in the same place for the past twenty minutes. If anyone were with you, they might have thought you to be having a memory episode akin to the ones Wild sometimes had. Indeed, you were so lost in the wanderings and ramblings of your own mind that you had no idea you were being watched. You had no clue until a sound was made that caused you to spring to your feet with a gasp and reach for the dagger you’d sheathed at your hip.

Legend stood at the tree line a few feet away, posture tense and, dare you say, predatory, unsettling stare boring into your own wide, surprised eyes. “What are you waiting for? Or should I say, who are you waiting for?” You blinked away the black spots at the edges of your vision from standing up too quickly, and relaxed the hand that held your knife as your brain worked to understand the situation.

“What?” you tried to be quiet, still recovering from being shaken out of your reverie. “Why would I be waiting for someone? They’re all asleep last I checked. Ooh shoot, did I wake someone up? I’m so sor-”

“Cut the crap, [Name],” he stood up even straighter, the line of his shoulders taught with anger. “I know you’re waiting for someone to give all your collected information to. Don’t pretend you’re all so goody-goody. I’ve seen the way you ask too many questions, always looking for more details to collect, more ways you can betray us, betray them. I knew you were a snitch, and I don’t know how you bewitched them all to trust you, but they’re all too blind to see it. But I’m not. I see right through you, I have from the start.”

He had stalked closer during his speech, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper you had only ever heard in movies. His approach had caused you to back up until your still bare feet felt the water’s lapping edge. You had dropped your boots, you weren’t exactly sure where, but that was only a vague thought in the very back of your mind. Your eyebrows scrunched together as your mouth opened and closed, trying and failing to come up with a good enough response. You weren’t spying, you were trying to find answers! You came from a completely different world, of course you had questions! He of all people should understand that, and yet he still accuses you? This finally snapped your patience, and you decided to just spell it out him:

“Look, I know you hate me, but this is too far, Legend. I am not some evil being to be defeated like in your adventures, I am not planning to cause trouble for you all, and I sure as anything would never betray you guys, especially not after the trust that has been extended to me by some of you. This group took me in, saved my life, helped me learn to defend myself, protected me time and time again, and I’ve only ever tried to help you, or at the very least not get in your way. I get that I’m not some ‘chosen hero’ with crazy butt-kicking skills, I know that I’m only okay-ish at fighting, not nearly as good as any of you, and I understand that my extensive knowledge of your adventures puts you on edge, but I swear on everything that I’m not a traitor, and the main thing that I just really don’t know is why you despise me when I’ve never even given you a single reason to do so!”

Your voice had steadily increased in volume, not quite to the point of shouting, but certainly not whispering any more. He seemed a bit surprised by your willingness to defend yourself, but he hid it quickly with a scowl and what sounded almost like a growl. You noticed dully that the forest had fallen tensely quiet.

“Oh drop the act, turncoat ,” he spat, “you have never been one of us, and the only reason I didn’t drop you off a bridge yet is because Hyrule would have my hide and Wild would poison my food. But don’t mistake my inaction for acceptance or ignorance. You’re no better than any of the enemies we fight on a daily basis. You’re actually worse, because you’ve wormed your way into my group, my allies, my brothers. You think you’re something special just because you got some of them to trust you?? You’re a parasite, a threat, and tonight is all the proof I need. I knew I should’ve spoken up more from the moment you oh-so-conveniently happened to stumble into our lives. You’re going to regret ever messing with us, and Dark Link will soon know without a doubt that he cannot ever send his agents into my family without dire consequences.”

His expression twisted to a hateful snarl, showing some of his teeth in an almost animalistic display of animosity. Your face, on the other hand, was flickering through countless expressions too quickly for even you to comprehend. You knew some of what you felt, pain, sadness, anger, guilt (even though you had no reason for that one), confusion, denial, and eventually a sort of raging, spiraling emptiness that screamed inside your chest. Your breathing quickened to an almost hyperventilating speed, and your eyes grew blurry with tears you’d been suppressing for weeks. Your hurt, misty eyes locked with a pair of violet, violent, volatile ones, and you realized that he was waiting for your response. His next actions could depend solely upon your response; your very life could depend upon whatever words next left your mouth.

You had tried so hard to be friendly to the group of Links, to not aggravate Legend too awful much. You had tried to help out wherever you could, to not be a burden, to not slow them down. You tried to let the pain of rejection roll off of you like water, to not let it get under your skin. You had tried so, so hard to be one of them; but you weren’t. It was at this point you realized what he’d said without actually saying it — he was afraid . Afraid of losing the only family he had left. He’d already lost his uncle, Marin, the whole island of Koholint, and almost all the people of his Hyrule viewed him with disdain at best and outright hatred at worst. He’d had to leave Ravio and Fable back in his Hyrule, and he never knew when (if) he’d ever see them again. You realized on an even deeper level the true message behind his words — ‘you are a threat to those I love. You are dangerous. You bring pain and that is all you’ll ever do. You are not worthy of any trust, comfort, protection, or love from anyone, least of all my brothers. You would be better off never having met us, having never existed.

You would be

better off

dead.’

You had tried so hard, and yet… You had never actually brought anything to the group but problems. You thought through your interactions with them all, but all you could see is the many ways you’d caused them worry, stress, or even anger. You were another mouth to feed, another bed to pay for at inns, another liability in fights, another person to slow down for as they walked. You were a burden. No, worse: you were a danger. What if they were so busy looking out for you that they didn’t see an enemy until too late? What if you slowed them down to the point where they couldn’t get where they were going in time? What if you drained their food or rupee supplies too fast? What if you got hurt again and caused stress and tension to rise, causing fights and even divisions to break out. You were a problem. Not a traitor, no, and not intentionally endangering, but they couldn’t afford to have you around any longer. And you couldn’t just leave, you’d die within a day if Dink didn’t find and torture you, but Legend wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew for a fact that you were out of their way. Permanently. He didn’t just want you to disappear; he wanted you gone. And finally, with a sinking heart, you realized just how right he was.

 At this final revelation, a tear finally did slip past your lashes down to meet your quivering chin. You felt your thoughts scatter like startled deer, your heart thundering in its cage, pounding in your ears, scaring away the life in the forest around you. And you decided. You were a danger. You had no power here.

“I - I’m so sorry , I - I never meant to drive you apart, I -” you paused to hiccup and take a breath. You knew you were breaking, your composure deteriorating, but it was too late to stop. “Legen- Link. If you truly see me as a threat, if you truly believe that I will bring nothing but harm to you, to my-your friends, if…if you think that - that I should - I should never have met you, that I should never have…existed, I…I know I can’t force you to change what you so deeply believe, I -” You gasped a little shuddering inhale, and you made your final decision, the choice that you knew would be your last. You steeled yourself, and spoke. “If you honestly believe that you would all be better off - be safer - if I was gone, if you believe I’m a threat, that I would hurt you, that I - harbor ill intent, then…” you swallowed, still taking short, stuttering breaths. Then you turned around, held your hands palm-outward and arms open to the sides, and bowed your head; you left your entire back and neck, your spine, completely exposed to the man who wanted you dead. You leveled your voice, and accepted your fate. After all, he was an experienced hero, while you were just an inexperienced nobody. He would know what he’s talking about, what would be safest and best; you wouldn’t. He was not prone to emotional decisions; you were. If that was the case, then he was right. You were a threat to your friends.

“If you truly think that I should die for the good of the group, for their safety and happiness, then…then I… I trust you to do what’s right for your family. I would never willingly hurt any of them, I never wished any of you ill but…maybe I do just bring bad luck. Maybe I truly am a curse, a threat, a liability. If that’s the case, maybe - I know I can’t just leave, since Dink is after me and I know too much so - maybe I really am better off dead.”

There was a moment of silence, and then you heard him unsheathe his sword. The back of your neck prickled with danger, but you didn’t dare look over your shoulder. You counted the seconds as they passed, and you realized you had made it to thirty and nothing had happened yet. Why the hesitation? You assumed you’d be dying by now. Perhaps…perhaps Legend feared taking the blame for your death? Causing more division within the chain? Well, you shouldn’t let that stop him if your friends’ lives and safety were at stake. You would do anything to protect them, no matter what. Legend was right, and this had to happen. He had to do this. So why hadn’t he yet? You decided to offer some support, try to speed it along. You were never one for fearing the future but you really wanted this to be over, since you could feel the dread clawing up your throat, numbing your words and preventing any cohesive thought, forcing you to stand still and hear your blood thundering through your ears.

“You could, uh, you could make it look accidental, if you want?” You suggested. “Maybe - maybe I slipped, hit my head on a rock in the creek, maybe I drowned after I fainted or something, maybe I was playing with my knife and - and accidentally hit an artery.” At this point you started to hyperventilate again, desperate, but unsure as to why. “Maybe I was surprised by an enemy, a - a stalfos! - and I was too slow,” you continued, “or - or maybe I was kidnapped, maybe I was gutted by an enemy, maybe I - I just hit my head on something, maybe I had a - a - a hidden injury,” you were nearing hysterics now, “maybe, maybe I just — maybe I did it myself? Maybe I just couldn’t go on? Maybe, maybe I, I just - what if - I,” you lost your sense of words for a moment, “I can’t, I - what about if I just - just - You don’t have to take the blame, you know? You - you could cover it up! Maybe you just were doing your final rounds at the end of your watch and just found me - m-my body, maybe -”

“[Name] are you serious?” He cut through your rambling and you guessed he thought you sounded rather impertinent. You were trying to tell him how to do his job, and you’d kept on repeating what he likely had already worked through in his own mind.

Your mouth clicked closed so quickly your teeth almost clipped your tongue. Perhaps he wanted you to die quietly. You realize you were panicking and might’ve been too loud. Oh no, what if you woke someone up? Then Legend would get caught, and you would be the cause for even more trouble for everyone, and things would get even more tense, and if they were more distracted then they’d be in more danger, then…

…

…

…

You were still alive for some reason, although if you hadn’t been breathing so heavily you would have heard someone else’s suspiciously loud breathing behind you. As it was, you continued to hold still, arms sore from being held out, but you didn’t dare move. Even you knew better than to rob a predator of his prey, especially when he is so close to the killing blow. You were no fool, you knew he’d likely planned this for a while, and you knew better than to irritate him further. You just wanted to say one more thing, one final reassurance.

“I only want what’s best for them…best for you. I don’t hate you, contrary to what you probably think. I’m so sorry for any pain I’ve caused you, I truly am…I - I only ask that you make it quick, not for my sake, but if I was too loud a second ago and it woke anyone up and they found you kil-” your breath hitched, “killing me, it — it might make things worse for you all, and the last thing I wanna do is make things harder for all of you guys, I love you all and I—”

“Just SHUT UP!” Legend’s voice crashed through your pleading, and you stopped. And through the suddenly deafening silence, you realized something. Had his voice cracked? You listened more intently. He was breathing unevenly, almost gasping, almost…no, no your soon-to-be-killer couldn’t possibly…

He inhaled deeply and hoarsely whispered, “ Why? How, how could you just, just…” And in his struggle for words you heard something you would never have considered possible.

You had offered to die, just like he wanted, and

Legend —

Link —

was crying .

The man who wanted you dead, who planned to watch the light leave your eyes, was crying.

Perhaps he was just so happy you’d stopped resisting? Or perhaps he simply disliked the idea of causing someone pain? Yes, that was likely the reason; you were still a person, after all, and you knew that the Veteran, despite his callousness, did in fact have a heart (however guarded it might be).

“…It’s ok, Link,” you whispered reassuringly, “I’ll probably hardly even feel it, and if you’re right, and I’m sure you are, then…I deserve it anyway, and…I trust you to do what’s right, because…well, you’re a hero. You’re Link. I’m just… I’m nobody , nothing, so…It’s okay…” You stopped there, you knew he didn’t want you to talk, but darn it you always had a weak spot for people who cried, and you just had to try to reassure them, even if this particular person was planning to send you to meet your Maker a bit earlier than you’d thought you would.

But…there was still no sudden pain, no sword through your chest or severing your head, no sudden hit to the skull, nor were there hands forcing your face into the water until the bubbles stopped, nor any cutting, no slitting your throat, just…quiet sobbing?

Your mind froze for a second, and you held your breath to see whether the crying was actually from you. And it wasn’t. So, you waited. What else could make Legend wait? He was a hero, right? Maybe he just needed to psych himself up? It couldn’t be easy, you figured, literally stabbing someone in the back —

OH! Maybe that was actually the problem? Maybe he wanted to be at least a little more honorable and kill you face-to-face? After all, back-stabbing has a rather negative connotation attached to it. Facing forward and watching your killer do the job wasn’t really what you’d prefer, but it’s not like you had much choice in the matter. After all, he was the one with the sword.

In order to solve this newfound problem you slowly turned around and faced your whole body towards him, eyes closed, arms still out in a sign of surrender, tense muscles still ready for whatever method he would choose to end you. Maybe it would be kind? Likely not, seeing as you were a threat to his family. 

Tentatively you opened your mouth and quietly reassured him, “If you want to do it head-on and not with my back to you, that’s…cool too? I-”

“Oh goddesses,” he practically choked on the words, “you…you actually are serious…?” His voice was rough with…emotion? Confusion? But why? You were giving him what he wanted, right? You were keeping your frien- his family safe…right?

Right?

And then you cautiously cracked open your eyes a little bit, and then opened them all the way, and you lifted your gaze and actually looked at him, rather than just listening.

And you saw that he was an absolute wreck.

Rarely seen tears now freely flowed from his violet eyes, and he had to sniff to keep his nose from running too much. His chin quivered slightly and his adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to find words without openly sobbing. He dropped his sword as his posture went slack, a hand raising to cover his mouth, his watering eyes wide with disbelief and something remarkably akin to grief. Your confusion turned to concern for the man before you. Why was he crying? Was he hurt somewhere? Surely that was the case, for no one could change their mind as abruptly as he seemed to, right? 

He finally whispered hoarsely, “You…do you really…you’re actually willing to just…let me kill you?” He seemed shocked at your actions, but you didn’t know why. Unless…oh gosh, had you misread the situation?? You weren’t sure how you could have, but what if you did? What if you were the one to make him cry? How awful of a person could you be?

“I — I’m sorry, I — yeah, I meant it, really. I mean, I still do, but — I-I’m sorry if I misunderstood, I really am, I just wanted what was right, and I — I just figured you’d know better than me, that you’re right, but I didn’t mean to upset you, I swear, I’m sorry for making you cry, I never wanted that, I just wanted to keep them — keep you all — safe, but if I—”

“Just…stop… please .”

And you froze. Because Legend…he’d said please . He had never said please in the entire time you’d known him, and certainly not while addressing you of all people. So, you stopped. Your arms were in pain, however, and you risked slowly lowering them so they could lose their pins and needles. He didn’t react. He just brought his fist to his eyes in an attempt to get rid of the tears. He was no longer actively crying, so you counted that as a win. You continued to look at him, confused, but not trying to talk any more. You figured he would decide what to do in a minute. Maybe, you thought, he was crying with relief that he could finally stop fighting you.

And then he finally spoke again, in a very small, very subdued, almost unbelieving voice. “You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” He seemed to hardly believe it.

No, you denied the small spark of hope trying to take root in the void of your chest. There’s no way. It’s too late. He’s going to kill me. He can’t have been wrong. I’m supposed to die, right?

He raised his eyes to meet yours once more, and it was all you could do to nod in agreement. After all, you had never tried to deceive any of them. You’d only ever endeavored to tell the truth, and you weren’t going to stop now of all times.

“You’re not…a witch?” He seemed to almost be thinking aloud, not actually talking to you anymore, but you nodded along anyway, just in case. “You’re not actually a traitor, are you?” He murmured, “You’re…goddesses, you’re not even evil, are you? An enemy would never turn their back to me, Dark Link would never surrender, but…that means you…you’re just a person…just…” Then, in an even smaller voice and with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, “You’re…just you? Was I about to — to kill — an innocent?”

And at that moment you recognized his emotion: horror.

Link was mortified, absolutely horrified that he, a hero of courage, one of Hylia’s chosen, a bearer of the triforce, savior of realms and countries, Link, was about to kill you, a person who had never actually harmed him or his brothers, someone he’d been so set on not trusting that he’d tried to twist you into something that you’d never been. You had tried so hard to protect them where you could, to ease their burdens, to not cause problems, to bond with them, to ignore his acidic hatred, and you’d been through so much pain and loss, and been targeted by Dark himself, and he still had tried to make everyone reject you. You were traumatized, hunted, injured, afraid, and he still hadn’t held back. Your questions had never been any sort of interrogation, but simply confusion. The trust you gained from the others was simply friendship, not any sort of witchcraft or manipulation.

And, with mounting terror, he finally, deeply, truly realized that he had somehow even convinced you — sweet, innocent, confused, traumatized, eager-to-help, optimistic [Name] — that you actually were the problem, that you should — 

Oh goddesses, he’d convinced you that you were better off dead, that you should want to die — that you should just let him kill you. And for some heartbreaking reason, you had not only agreed, but then you’d exposed your most vulnerable points, without any sort of armor or protection, dropped your weapon, lowered your guard, closed your eyes, and told him to do what he believed was right…

You thought he was going to kill the person he should have been protecting this entire time. And you endorsed it only because of ignorant trust in someone who was supposed to be a hero.

And when he panicked, you’d tried to help him kill you .

He looked at you and saw your pain, your sadness, your survival, your resignation, your scars, your desperation to help others, he saw YOU, and not a trace of what he’d so firmly believed you to be. He was planning your death, and you’d tried to comfort him.

And Legend broke.

He did something neither of you expected; Legend, the one who had tried so hard to hate you, vaulted over the small distance between you, wrapped his arms around you, and held on so tightly he thought he might never let go. You had stiffened at first, halfway expecting a knife in your back, but when that didn’t happen you relaxed, almost dizzy with relief and swirling emotions, and you hugged him back just as fiercely. His face was on your shoulder, head bowed so that the fabric of your shirt muffled his increasingly panicked sobs and hiccups. And through those noises you could hear him apologizing relentlessly,

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, goddesses I’m so sorry, [Name] I — I’m so — so sorry, I’m sorry, I was so blind , I’m sorry, I was wrong, I was so, so, so — wrong, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” and so he continued.

You finally breathed for what felt like the first time since he’d snuck up behind you. Your heart was pounding and, now that you held Legend in your arms, you could feel his heart thundering just as quickly as your own. You gently lowered the two of you to the ground, trying to comfort him even as you worked through your own dissolving panic. You held him as if he were a child, gently rocking back and forth as you tried to imbue him with a sense of safe-secure-trust-okay.

“Shhh sh sh shh,” you whispered, “it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m okay, shh shh shhh, it’s okay, I…

I forgive you, Link.”

At this statement he began to sob even more heavily, and your own tears soaked his tunic as surely as his did your own.

“NO! No, you shouldn’t! You — you — I almost killed you!!” He pulled back and looked at you without letting go. “I would have killed you, [Name]! You — you can’t just forgive me! I — I’m so sorry, I can’t ever explain, I — I was so sure you weren’t trustworthy, I didn’t even give you a chance, I — gosh I basically just tried to freaking kill you, and you just…you can’t just — just —” he fell into hysteric hiccups once again, allowing you to interrupt.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you don’t decide what I can and can’t do, isn’t it?” You released your hug to hold his face in both hands, using a thumb to brush his tear-stained cheeks. “I’ll admit…I was, for a moment, scared, but,” you cut off his heartbroken and shattered gasp, “I get it. I don’t excuse what you’ve done, but I do somewhat understand and I forgive you, Legend. I choose to forgive you, Link.”

…

His world stopped in that moment. He stared into your eyes, so open, brimming with tears that he had caused. You shouldn’t forgive him. He was going to murder you, literally stab you in the back, in cold blood, right outside the safety of camp where his own brothers, who trusted both him and you, slept peacefully, placing full faith in him to keep the monsters at bay. And yet here he was, more of a monster than any of their Ganons or Ganondorfs could have ever hoped to be. He was despicable.

And then you even went so far as to offer him a watery smile that tugged gently on the Sheikah scars adorning your face, the scars of what you’d endured and survived. Oh goddesses, you were trying to comfort him — him — instead of yourself. You opened your arms and offered him another hug, and he was suddenly so thankful you were alive, that you were there with him, and that he hadn’t killed you. And he finally, fully, completely collapsed, releasing the pain he’d hidden away for so long from so much betrayal, distrust, and loss, burying his face into your shoulder once more. His stuttering breaths and hiccups prevented him from speaking, from begging you to hate him back, from telling you to strike him down then and there as surely as he planned to do to you, from screaming until his voice gave out simply because of his pure loathing toward himself, toward this monster he had let himself become.

You gently nudged him back toward camp, all the while holding him and tracing pointless patterns along his back, caressing his hair and whispering forgiveness in his ears. You fell asleep trying to keep watch for him by the fire, both of you tangled up in the other’s embrace, resting in the safety of someone you loved.

You both slept soundly and without nightmares for the first time in weeks.

….

And as the two of you sat there after crying your souls out to each other, having realized how much you actually cared for one another, the sounds of the forest slowly filtered back, joining with your sobs in a beautiful melody of mourning and life, shame and forgiveness. Your rivers of tears mingled together and joined the small creek, the whispers of your pain, relief, salvation, and reconciliation joining the water’s ever-increasing library of whispered memories and silent emotions. And it would never tell a soul, for no one could know what it knew; and you would never, ever know just how happy it was to gain your streams of tears and joy instead of the rivers of your life-blood. 

     As the sun began to set on the village, floorboards moaned and shutters creaked open as a young girl snuck into her father’s study, and pulled a large leatherbound book from the shelf. She sat down near a small empty pot, and as she set the aging book on the floor, its gold lettering shone gently in the evening light. Flipping through its yellowed pages, she came to a stop at the one she’d been practicing, then began to quietly recite the spell shown on the page.

“Little flower listen close, there’s more to life than you have known. Through your leaves my magic flows. Seeds of potential already sown. Down this path of learning I chose. My powers of ethereal beauty to hone.” As she recited the spell, a small sprout appeared in the pot and began to grow bigger with each repetition of the spell. Satisfied with her work, she picked up the plant, placed it on the table, and raced outside to play with the other children as they returned from their chores. Tagging along behind a clique of girls she exclaimed, 

“Hey Marilyn, guess what? I can do magic!” To this, Marilyn looked at her in annoyance, saying 

“No, you can’t. Only people born with magic can do it, Arwen. And you were most definitely not.” 

“But I can!”

“Can not!”

“Can!”

“Can not!”

“Can too! And I’ll prove it to you!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! Meet me by the old well after supper and I’ll show you!”

“Yeah right. Like I believe a runt like you”

“Are you chickening out?”

“No!” Marilyn looks to her friends then says, “Fine, I’ll meet you there to see your little ‘magic trick’.”

“Yay! See you then.”

“Bye,” Marilyn smirks, looking at her friends as Arwen runs back inside. 

    As the last rays of sunlight faded away, giving way to the gentle half-light of dusk, Arwen snuck out of her home, carrying the pot and a folded piece of parchment on which she had copied the spell. When she neared the old well she saw Marilyn waiting for her there. 

    “Well? Are you gonna do it?”

    “Yeah! Just give me a minute.” Arwen sets the pot down and unfolds the parchment, setting it down, she began to recite the spell.

    “Little flower listen close, there’s more to life than you have known. Through your leaves my magic flows,” As she spoke, the plant began to grow, two flower buds soon appearing, but as the light disappeared the words became harder to read, but she kept going.

“Seeds of potential already…. sown... Down this path of ...learning I chose. Ummm...Thy delicate petals have turned to stone.” With these final lines, one of the buds burst into bloom, but suddenly a harsh grey raced up the stem enveloping the flower. The girls were silent for a moment as Marilyn touched the flower. Crying in terror as she realized that it was stone, she ran away in fear.

    As time went on, rumors were spun in the shadows, stories of what deeds Arwen supposedly had done. 

“I heard she turned her horse to stone.”

“No, her father’s flock of sheep.”

“Forget the animals, she turned her family to stone!”

    As the rumors got worse, and people started avoiding her, Arwen decided she’d had enough and ran away from home, but as she went from village to village, the rumors followed her. Constantly growing, warping, and mutating, spreading like wildfire within the shadows. Gossip mongers who heard lapped them up like sweet milk and churned them out without a second thought. As the years went by the rumors exited the shadows, stepping into the daylight as facts, evolving from a young girl turning singular objects into stone, to a wicked enchantress turning villages to stone, then looting them of their gold, silver, and for some reason, flowers. 

    One day, word of these “attacks” reached the ears of the greatest wizard in the land. Hearing of the deeds she’d done, he exclaimed, 

“This is a threat we must neutralize at once! We must gather together the finest magic wielders in the land, isolate and eliminate her attacks before she can cause further damage to the kingdom!”

And in three days' time, a group of seven had gathered together to find Arwen, the enchantress. They scoured the kingdom, searching for a clue to her whereabouts. Soon, they found her hiding in the treasure room of an ancient abandoned castle. Thinking that this was the treasure she stole from the villages, they assumed that the tales they’d heard checked out. Fair-skinned, lots of treasure, has a stone flower and an affinity for magic, they assumed it must be her. Eyes wide she began to run in fear, and they gave chase, beginning to chant a spell, casting it over her and the castle grounds. Cursing her that she could never leave the crumbling walls of the castle she is hiding in, attempt to break the spell, let someone pluck a flower from her garden, nor let anyone touch her stone flower, or she would suffer the pain of turning to stone herself; as she had supposedly done to so many innocent people.

          Only months later they were searching for the villages she’d turned to stone, wanting to repair the damage done. But by the time they realized there were none, and that they had so strictly punished a young girl based on a rumor, it was too late to lift the spell. Those who tried were turned to stone. But one day a wise enchantress found that although the spell could not be lifted, it could be added to. She placed the stone flower on a pedestal in the center of the garden within the enchanted gates, and wrote upon the pedestal,

“This spell shall be lifted when the stone flower blooms”

The corners of your eyes prickle and you let out a sigh of frustration. Right. It's probably because you haven’t gone shopping for dresses since before you got pregnant - for the first time. You curse yourself silently for not making time to go shopping before today, but Namjoon had only sprung this cocktail party on you a week in advance, and you had meant to, but there had been one thing or another that had kept you from going, what with being the stay-at-home mom of a four and two year old. Junseok had started on his “getting into everything” phase, while Miyoung, of course, was in the midst of her terrible twos, which you’d barely survived with Junseok the first time around, and per her usual, Miyoung just had to one-up her brother by being even worse. You’d barely had a free moment to yourself since before you’d had kids, and that was probably the reason you hadn’t realized just how much you’d let yourself go in the last year or two. You almost don’t even recognize yourself. The woman in the mirror looks old, worn out, tired - nothing like you. You conclude that she’s not actually you, but a clone, and the younger, prettier version of yourself is out there somewhere, walking around and living her best life. If only that were true. 

You glance at the clock. 6:30. You’re supposed to be there by 7, and you haven’t even started your makeup yet, or done anything to your hair. Not that it would matter. Your hair doesn't hold a curl, never has, not even on your wedding day. And not even the thickest concealer could cover up the bags under your eyes, or make you look any less tired than you do now, without really caking it on. The eyeliner will probably get caught in the creases and smudge all over the place, and make you look like you’re still in your emo phase, the lipstick will probably either get on your teeth or wear off, and what the hell, what’s the point anymore? You might as well just not go anywhere when you look this bad. No use in embarrassing the both of you, especially not in front of your husband’s colleagues, and the tenure committee, and whoever else has to lay eyes on you at this thing. 

There’s a knock on the door, and you jump at the sudden noise. “Y/n?” It’s Namjoon. “The sitter’s here. Are you going to be ready soon? We should really get going.”

You hesitate, staring at the unattractive stranger in the mirror, and reply, “Um…I think maybe you should just go without me.” 

“What?” he says through the door. “Why would I go without you?” 

“No reason,” you say. “I, um, just don't feel good all of a sudden."

"Huh?" He sounds confused. "You were fine just a little while ago. Are you sick? What can I do? Do you need anything?"

A time machine, you think, biting the inside of your cheek, so I can go back to when I was pretty. And worthy of being seen in public. "No," you say. "I'm fine. Just go without me, okay?” 

"Well, if you're not going then I'm not going either," he says. "It's just a dumb cocktail party. There will be plenty of others. And I shouldn't be going anywhere if you're sick, either. What about the kids? Who’ll take care of you?"

Damn your husband for being so thoughtful. That man has been worrying about you since you started dating, more than you ever even worried about yourself. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Joonie. What do you think I did before I met you? The sitter can watch the kids. This is a big deal; I know how much you want this. You should go. Schmooze. Impress the tenure committee with all those impressive accomplishments of yours." 

"I don’t want to schmooze, not without you. I'm terrible at this kind of thing. I need you there to keep me from putting my foot in my mouth. I mean, we used to go to parties all the time. What’s different about this one?" Namjoon pauses. You picture him outside the door, big brain at work, trying to figure out what's going on. "Aegiya…is something wrong?" 

"Try everything," you say under your breath. "Nothing's wrong," you add aloud. "I don't feel well. End of story."

"You're acting weird," he says. "I'm coming in." He lets himself into the room before you can grab your bathrobe to cover up, and stops cold when he sees you, standing there, in that stupid strapless dress, jaw falling open. “Y/n…wow. You look…hot. Have I ever told you how much I love you in all black? All white is one thing, but…damn. It really suits you.”

Maybe it's the fact that you've been trying on dresses for the past hour or so with no luck, or the fact that you haven't eaten enough today, or that the exertion of wrangling yourself in and out of all of these dresses has left you overheated and sweaty, but a feeling of anger bubbles up in your chest. “You gotta be kidding me,” you snap and stomp into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. “'Hot?' Are you serious? That’s not fucking funny, Namjoon.” You lean against the counter, arms crossed, on the verge of tears. He has to be joking, you think. That’s ridiculous. No way in hell.  

“Wait, what did I do?” he says. “You’re upset…because I said you looked nice?" 

“Of course I’m upset, are you blind?” you practically shout. 

“No?” He chuckles uneasily. “I’m not blind. I wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true.” A knock comes on the bathroom door. “Come on, y/n.” 

“No!” you snap. “Leave me alone. Just go without me. You’re going to be late.” You let yourself slide down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest and burying your face in your arms. 

He knocks again. “I’m not leaving until you open the door and talk to me, y/n. Tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.” 

“You can’t help.” Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.” Of course he wouldn’t. He still looks the same as he did on the day you met him. It’s like he hasn’t aged at all. It’s not fair.

“Then explain it to me,” he says patiently. “I’m a quick study. Will you please come out? Or let me in? I don’t like talking to you through the door.” 

You don’t say anything. How do you explain this? “Okay,” you say, almost inaudibly. “I guess you can come in.” You look up as he opens the door, the visible concern on his face enough to turn the prickles in the corners of your eyes into full-fledged tears. Your face crumples, and before you know it, you’re sobbing.  

“Hey. Come here.” Namjoon sits down on the floor next to you and pulls you close, folding you into his warm embrace and letting your tears soak into the front of his charcoal-colored blazer. He presses a kiss to your forehead and touches your chin, coaxing you into looking at him. “Tell me, aegiya. What’s wrong?” 

“Everything. Nothing,” you say, hiccuping. “It’s stupid. Really.” 

“It can’t be nothing if it’s making you this upset,” he says. 

Of course he’s right. You draw in a shaking breath. “Nothing looks right on me!” you wail. “I went through my whole closet before I got to this dress, and I still hate the way it looks. I hate the way everything looks, myself included. My boobs used to be a normal size, and everyone said they’d go back to normal once I stopped breastfeeding, but they haven’t, and they’re still huge, and they don’t fit anywhere, not to mention the stretch marks. Do you remember when I bought this dress?” 

“Not really,” he says. 

“Before I had Junseok, Joon. When I was still small, and pretty, and everything was the right size, and my stomach didn’t look like it had a watermelon crammed inside of it for nine months. There’s more stretch marks than skin, my arms are flabby, my face looks old and tired, my ass is huge, and nothing fits.” The words spill out, and you’re rambling, not sure if you’re making any sense. “I don’t recognize the person in the mirror anymore, and I hate it. I have this image of myself, and what I used to be and what I am now, and none of it lines up. I used to be pretty and now I’m just a fat, ugly mom, while you still look the same as you always have, and I don’t know how you’re even still attracted to me, if you are, because I’m definitely not much to look at anymore.” Tears run down your face, and you burrow further into his chest. 

He rubs a hand up and down your arm. “That’s what’s upsetting you so much?” 

You nod, sniffling.

“Well, I’m sorry you’re feeling that way, aegiya. You’re right, I can’t even begin to understand. But let me be the first to tell you that I’m not going anywhere.” He kisses you on the forehead. “It would make me a pretty terrible person and that much less of a man if I left you because I didn't like the way your body changed while you were having my children. Your body is amazing, y/n. That body grew and nurtured two little humans. It took care of them until they were ready to come into the world, and kept them fed and nourished once they did. I can’t do any of that. That body gave me two wonderful gifts I could only ever dream of reciprocating, and it hurts me to see you feeling like this.” He plants another kiss on your cheek. “I’ve never stopped being attracted to you, aegiya. Not once since the day I first laid eyes on you. I know you don’t think so so but you're still the same stunner I fell in love with back then. You're still the beautiful girl I married. You’re not a, what was it, ‘a fat, ugly mom?’ If anything, becoming a mother has only made you even prettier.”

"Bullshit," you mutter, scowling. “Motherhood has made me look like death warmed over, 24/7. I don’t know how you could love that.”

"Y/n, it's not bullshit." He touches his hand to your cheek. "I love every single thing about you. That goofy laugh you hate, the way your whole face crinkles when you smile, the way you sing to the kids when they’re sick, or they can’t sleep, even though you’re way off-key, and yes, each and every individual stretch mark on that beautiful body of yours. I love all of it. So if looks are what you’re worried about, then don’t, because you’re perfect, the way you look right now, and the way you looked yesterday, and the way you looked five years ago.” He wipes at the tears still on your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “Does that make you feel any better?” 

“Well…no.” Your lower lip trembles. “You don’t really mean that, do you? You’re just saying that to make me feel better. There has to be at least one thing you’d change about me if you could, isn’t there? I know there’s a few things I’d like to change about you, if I had the chance. Your snoring, for one. I definitely don't love that."

“Maybe I would,” he says. “Maybe I wouldn’t. It wouldn’t change the way I feel about you. You’re the person I chose to share my life with. Which means I accept you for you, all of your perceived flaws and supposed blemishes. So no, I wouldn’t change a thing. Those are all the things that make you you. And you are special. To me, and to Miyoung, and Junseok, your friends, your family, and everyone else who has the privilege of having you in their life. You’re a beautiful woman and an amazing mother, and I’m proud to call you my wife.” He strokes your hair. “How about now? Better?”

“I guess so,” you say slowly, your head still resting against his chest. You listen to his heartbeat thumping. “What did I ever do to deserve a husband as kind and as patient as you? You know? How did I get so lucky?”

“You chose me, remember? And I chose you right back.” He smiles gently, wiping away the last few remaining tears. “We’re both pretty lucky, don't you think?” 

"The luckiest." You allow a tiny smile to creep onto your face. "I'm sorry for being so insecure." 

"You don't ever have to apologize for having feelings,” he says, giving you a squeeze. 

"Thank you.” You meet his gaze. “For listening. For being patient with me."

"I'll always be here to listen," he says. "No matter what. And life is a learning curve for all of us. Myself included."

"And thank you for not leaving me," you add.

"I'll never leave you, y/n. Not now, not ever. I promised you for better or for worse, and I plan on keeping that promise," he says. 

You reach up and tousle his hair, managing a teary smile. “Me too. I promise.” 

Namjoon tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Well, what do you say? Are you still not feeling up to coming out with me? I think we could still make it on time if we hurry, but we don’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want to." He looks at you, smiling tentatively. 

"No, I think I'm okay now. God, I'm probably a mess. All puffy and red." As you're rubbing your eyes, you notice the big wet spot on the front of Namjoon's jacket and part of the white shirt he’s wearing underneath. "Oh, damn. I ruined your jacket, didn't I? You’ll have to change."

"Don't even worry about it, aegiya." He pulls you in for a kiss, plush lips intertwining with yours. "I have plenty of other jackets. But I only have one wife, and she comes first. Always."

––––