#warrior lu

“Nothing, nothing. Just keep breathing, you’re fine.” Warrior took Four’s arms and forcefully pushed him down to sitting. Four was getting a bit irked—he shrugged him off, pulling away. “Legend, call Hyrule and Time, quick! And Sky, we’re going to need some help over here!”

“If nothing’s wrong, what are you doing? Hey!” Four tried to bat him away, but Warrior would not be deterred. Instead, he took Four’s sword out of his hand and placed it to the side, then dragged up the bottom of his shirt. “Hey! I was cleaning that!”

Warrior ducked down to glance under Four’s shirt, then looked into Four's eyes intently. He moved his hand to Four’s stomach as if to press down, but Four felt nothing. “How are you feeling right now? Any pain? Any discomfort or pressure at all?”

“No!” Four batted his hands away again. “What are you doing?”

Warrior sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Oh, that’s not good,” he muttered to himself. “Rulie! Get over here now! Don’t look down, Four, you’re all right.”

So of course, Four looked down. The whole front of his tunic was burnt away, crisped at the edges. The skin underneath Warrior’s hands was molted black and red. Oh. But even at the sight of the burn, he felt no pain. A flood of lightheadedness surged through his head, making him dizzy.

“Hylia, what did I say! I don’t know why I even try,” Warrior bemoaned in a forced joking voice that Four didn’t find funny at all. “Do you think that you can get your tunic off?”

“Oh Hylia,” Time swore underneath his breath as he appeared in Four’s field of view. “Oooooh, sweet Hylia.”

“Uh…  probably,” Four managed to mutter, his mind stuttering at the sight of his own blackened flesh and Time’s reaction. Why… Why couldn’t he feel it? It was his own skin, wasn’t it? 

Somehow, Four ended up on his back. Sky and Hyrule were both looming over him now, their faces pinched tight in panic. His tunic had gone… somewhere. Hyrule’s hands were on his stomach, glowing with pink magic. His whole body was hypersensitive—the grass tickled his bare skin, a little rock dug into his shoulder, the breeze tugged at his hair where he lay—and he still couldn’t feel Hyrule’s touch.

“I… I can’t heal this,” Hyrule murmured faintly. Beads of sweat shone on his forehead. “There’s… there’s just too much dead skin. We’re going to have to clear it all out first.” 

“I feared that was what you’d say,” Warrior said. “Alright, Time, Twilight, get over here! We’re going to need you as well. Wild, do you have any medical training for dealing with burns?” A response rang in Four’s ears. “Good, then you get over here too then. Bring some sterile washcloths, if we’ve got any.”

“Tell us what to do, Warrior,” Sky said. Twilight was there too, hovering over his shoulder. His face was white.

“Hold him down,” Warrior answered, his expression grim. “We’re going to have to excise the wound before we can treat it, and he’s gonna fight once the pain starts to hit. I should know. But we can…” 

“...have anything for pain management?” Time’s voice asked.

“...ot for this, it won’t touch it. Wouldn’t kick in in time any… have to be fast or he’ll…”

Four tipped his head back and stared up at the sky, feeling disconnected from his own body. He was starting to feel… bad. His side still didn't hurt, but something was wrong. “Warrior…” he managed to croak out. “What’s…?”

Warrior was at his head in an instant. He brushed Four’s sweaty bangs out of his eyes—where had his headband gone?—and smiled down at him thinly. “Hey, Smithy. Hanging in there?”

Four licked his lips. They were dry and numb. “What’re you…?”

“You’ve been burned, and we’ve got to deal with it, now,” Warrior answered, yanking his scarf from his neck. “I’m not going to lie, it’s going to hurt, but you’ll be okay. Can you bite down on this for me?”

Four’s eyes slowly focused in on the object held up before his face. It was Warrior’s blue scarf, folded and balled up into a makeshift gag. Somehow, he dredged up enough energy to nod, and the fabric was shoved between his teeth without further ceremony. The floral smell of it burned his nose and made his head swim.

“Everyone ready?” Warrior asked, looking up at the heads surrounding him. There were nods all around. Four’s eyes fluttered shut, overcome by a sudden tiredness. “Alright, hold him down. Let’s get this done as quickly as possible. Hyrule, stand by.”

Four found his head in Sky’s lap, his arms trapped. At his feet, Time and Twilight each straddled a leg, pinning him to the forest floor. He groaned, laying his head back into Sky’s lap. Someone—was that Legend?—held one of his hands in between his own, rubbing his thumb over the back of his knuckles.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Legend said, squeezing his hand. His eyes were wet. “Just hang on, you’re gonna be okay. Hyrule, have you got enough magic for this?”

"Y...yes, I think so."

Oh, Four finally realized somewhere in the back of his mind. This is going to suck.

Warrior looked away. “Wild, let’s start. Wind, get a potion ready.”

Their hands moved to his stomach. For a moment, he felt nothing. Then pins and needles, accompanied by a sort of bone-deep cold, dove deep into his skin. That cold warmed into a sort of tingly heat, which then turned into hot, all-consuming pain. 

But there was no way to help him, because the others wouldn’t let him take a step out of their watch, now. They worried that the kidnappers might come back for Wind, and that, in his rattled state, he might not be able to fight them off. He was forced to concede that he wasn’t in the best of shape, unable to sleep at night even with guards posted in the room and the windows locked for fear that he’d wake with a hand over his mouth once again. They’d all been rather quiet and tight lipped on what the true danger to Warrior might be, going silent in their discussions whenever Wind would walk in, and infuriatingly catching him every time he eavesdropped and sending him back to rest, but he knew well enough what could be happening to his brother, then. He’d heard the men’s cruel laughter and plans for their resident “pretty boy.”

“Woah, woah, hang on, Wind.” Hyrule caught Wind at the top of the stairs. “It may not be a good idea for you to go running down there right now, he could be hurt, and we don’t wanna overwhelm hi—”

“He’s back!”

“Couldn’t let someone else have some fun this time around, huh War?” That was Legend, his acrid tone doing nothing to hide the pure relief in his voice. “You’re always the one that’s gotta get yourself into trouble?”

“Guess not. Heh.” And that was Warrior, his voice scratchy and oh-so small. “Can’t really say it was my—my choice this time around.”

“Alright, alright, give him some space, and someone fetch Hyrule,” Time’s voice rose over the din. “He already got medical attention, but he could do with a touch up. Everyone else—pack up, and stay on alert. We can’t leave until tomorrow, and while the castle’s handling the threat, we don’t wanna let our guard down before Warrior’s well enough to travel.”

“It’s alright, Time, I’ll be—”

“Now don’t you start none of—”

“Fine, you can see him for a minute,” Hyrule hissed to Wind, his green eyes flashing in the dark. “Just be careful—he’s still injured, and he doesn’t need to be overwhelmed right now.” And with that Hyrule descended the stairs, Wind anxiously on his heels. “I’m here, Time. Where do you need me?”

Wind hung back on the stairs. Warrior looked… bad. He greeted Hyrule with a pained smile, allowing the rest of the heroes to guide him to sit on a nearby chair as they fussed over him, a pronounced limp to his step that he tried to hide making him unsteady. Spots of blood stained his shirt—the same he must have been taken in—and his cheek was swollen to make the left side of his face nearly unidentifiable, but it was Warrior.

And it was Wind’s fault that he was that way. Warrior had noticed him standing at the top of the stairs, by then. He raised a hand—bruised, a few fingers taped together—in greeting, opening his mouth to call out to him. Wind was already gone, flitting to his rented room and slamming the door behind him. He curled up on the bed, tucking his knees into his chest.

It was all his fault. He should have fought back harder, should’ve kept his guard up. Shouldn’t’ve allowed himself to be captured and ransomed like he was little more than a damsel in distress, and now Warrior was hurt, and it was all his fault, Hylia he must hate him for—

The door creaked open behind him. Wind raised his shoulders, stifling his sniffling to the best of his ability, but he didn’t turn to see who’d entered. It was probably Hyrule here to scold him for causing a scene and causing Warrior distress, or Time to gently ask him why he’d taken off, or one other member of the Chain that he equally didn’t want to talk to. A gentle hand landed on his back, and he shook his head, driving his face into the crook of his elbow.

“Hey, kid,” Warrior rasped. “Can you sit up and talk to me?”

And Wind bolted upright, his eyes blown wide, to find Warrior sitting there on the bed with him. He looked even worse up close—his face littered with cuts, dark bruises around his neck, his lips split and his eyes blackened, though they were already turning lighter with the potion that the others had surely already forced down his throat along with Hyrule’s healing magic. Warrior gave a little smile, then reached out and patted Wind’s shoulders, rubbing his thumbs over the fabric sitting there.

“Thanks for holding onto this for me, Sailor,” Warrior said. “I was hoping that it got to you.”

Oh, Warrior’s scarf. Wind had almost forgotten all about it. He raised a hand up to the fabric, tangling his fingers in the silky folds. Warrior had left it on his bed when he’d slipped out, and Hyrule had almost unconsciously put it around Wind’s shoulders after he had been returned to them in his stead. It hadn’t left them since, even for sleep. Now, Wind surrendered it, and Warrior carefully wound it back around his own neck, hiding the worst of the bruises behind the deep blue fabric.

“Shouldn’t you be…” Wind started, not even sure where he was going. Wasn’t Warrior hurt? Shouldn’t he have Hyrule and whoever else fussing over him still? Shouldn’t he be resting? “Why aren’t you resting?”

“Managed to slip away. We probably don’t have long before they start trying to find me,” Warrior answered with a wink that hadn’t changed after all of these days. “I… I saw you run off earlier.”

A blush rose to Wind’s cheeks. “I… I’m sorry.”

“No need to be. I just—I just wanted to talk to you, and make sure that you didn’t think that this was your fault.”

Wind whipped his head up, incredulous. “Not my fault? Not my fault?” Warrior shushed him, cringing, and Wind realized that he would be drawing the rest right to them. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. “How isn’t it my fault? I’m the one that got captured, I’m the one that forced you to give yourself up for me, I should’ve—” Hylia, he was crying now. He swallowed down a sob only to choke on another. “I—I should’ve—and now you’re—you’re hurt— ”

“Shh… shh… It wasn’t your fault.” Wind found himself in Warrior’s arms. His grip was weaker than it had been before. “I gave myself up because I wanted to. It’s not your fault. You should’ve never got caught in the middle of this.”

“Then whose is it!” Wind demanded tearily. “They went after me because—because—”

“Because they’re a bunch of low-life bastards. They would’ve grabbed any of you if it meant getting to me. It’s no one’s fault other than their own. And they’re dead now.”

Wind’s fists clenched in the fabric of Warrior’s tunic. He supposed that was true, if the heroes had managed to find Warrior. But still, he worried. “Are you really okay?”

“I… I will be. I promise.”

The rest finally found Warrior, Wind asleep on his lap, only a few minutes later. They fussed, but allowed him to stay there for the night.

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Everyone was up, now, gathered in the lobby of the little inn. Four’s arm was in a makeshift sling, and he sniffled as he was doted upon by a too-tense Sky while Hyrule’s magic did its work. Wild was arguing with both Twilight and Time in nearly unintelligible sign, saying something about going after Wind while the other two tried to dissuade him. Down the hall and in the stairways stood employees and other customers of the inn, awakened by the ruckus of it all. He wondered where the man Twilight had captured was. Warrior hesitated—more people to recognize him, more to come after those they he loved—but Legend put an arm around him and guided him to Hyrule’s station in the far corner, pushing him down firmly into a seat. Warrior only distantly heard him call for a potion and some pliers before he rolled up his sleeves and took Warrior’s hands. He painstakingly began to pick the little shards of glass out of Warrior’s skin. Warrior relished the pain, letting it tether him back to earth and atone for just a fraction of what he’d allowed to befall Wind.

At some point, Hyrule made his way over and laid his magic over his hands, closing the last of the cuts into scars and scabs that would fall within a day or two. Time came after him, but Legend fielded most of his questions. Warrior muttered something to Time about the men who’d taken Wind—his single eye darkened, he’d been there in the War of Eras, he knew the danger of those traitors—and then, once his hands were wrapped in bandages, he headed back to his room to grab his things and dress for an audience with the Queen. He trudged up the stairs and pushed open the door to his and Twilight’s shared room, not seeing more than a foot in front of his face as his mind spun. Zelda would need to be contacted as soon as possible, so he’d head to the castle right away, after which they’d have to set up scouts to look for Wind, canvas the area for potential hide—

There was a note sitting on Warrior’s rented bed. A little folded piece of paper, placed daintily in the center of his newly straightened pillow. It had not been there before he left. Someone had been in their room.

He opened the note, reading it over once, twice, three times. Then he took a deep breath, sat it back down on his pillow, and crossed to his bag to get dressed. He pulled on not his soldier's uniform appropriate for his planned audience with the queen, but instead his simple, sturdy traveler’s clothes, complete with a knife he knew he wouldn’t have any use for down his boot. He reached for his scarf, folded neatly at the top of the pile since he went to bed last night, then changed his mind. Instead, he placed it in the center of his bed.

That done, Warrior walked back down to the lobby. He caught Legend’s eye— did he know what he planned to do? Would he try to stop him? But Legend offered little more than a nod before he turned back to Time, his hands moving as he described the men that had taken Wind for what must have been the 5th or 6th time, given his irritated tone. Warrior found it easy, almost too easy, to skirt around the others and slip out into the night.

Hours later, Twilight would go up to their room to retrieve his wolf’s cloak before they set out to look for Wind, and he would find the note. He’d read it quickly, then run for Time, shouting to ask if anyone had seen the Captain. And less 15 minutes later, they’d find Wind on the inn’s doorstep.

We have your brother. He is uninjured for the time being, held in a secure location outside of the city. Meet us at the corner of 15th and Main Street in an hour and a half, and he will be returned in an unharmed state to your family. 

Come alone. Tell no one.

Visit this fic on ao3! The Captain’s Sacrifice

Not only in the metaphorical sense, that he’d made a terrible decision and now had to pay for it. Not only in the psychological sense, that he was overwhelmed with regret and shame because of what he’d done. No, there was actual, human blood on his hands, sticking tacky between his fingers, dripping from his fingertips, glinting in the low light on the edge of his sword and running down its hilt. Blood marked the rest of him, too, with guilt, startlingly red where it stained his sailcloth and the rest of his clothes, dark and itchy where it clung to his bare skin, drying and cooling in tandem with that puddle he’d impiously spilled across the cobbled street of the alley. 

Sky stared down at his trembling hands with eyes wide. He rubbed his fingers together experimentally. The blood between them was both slicker and stickier than he thought it’d be, all at the same time. Similar to monster blood, in its composition and appearance, but the knowledge of where it’d come from—who it’d come from—made him ill.

Suddenly, Sky’s already churning stomach clenched. He braced a hand against the alley wall, leaned over, and vomited. Sick splashes his boots, joining the growing puddle of blood on the cool stones of the alley. 

A weak groan sounded out.

Sky wiped his mouth with a shaky arm, straightening as best as he could manage. The sound had come from the… bodies in the alley. One, two, three of them lay in managed positions, their arms and legs awkwardly askew. The one furthest from him, obscured in shadow, shifted. Sky caught a glimpse of that signature blue scarf, made dark with blood.

The Captain was alive. Somehow, he was still alive.

Sky dropped the Master Sword and staggered over to him on shaking legs. He dropped to his knees in the puddle of blood underneath him, his hands hovering. He couldn’t focus on just one wound. His arms, his face, his neck were all marked with the assassin’s daggers, but each wound bled sluggishly, like there was no blood left in his body to lose. Warrior peered blearily up at Sky with his one functioning eye, the other sealed shut behind a purple bruise. “Go, get—” he coughed, his voice rasping, “go get help, Sky.”

“No, what if they come back, I’m not leaving y—”

“Sky.” Warrior had the audacity to reach up and take Sky’s shaking hands. To comfort him. “I’ll be okay, Go,” he whispered. “Get the others.”

So Sky stood, and he fled towards the inn, leaving both Warrior and the Master Sword lying in the alley behind him.

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