Chapter Text
The last day of the nine weeks rolled around. Legend sat in the headmaster’s office with the rest of the heroes, the headmaster, and the professors. It was stuffy, a little bit too hot, and very quiet. If the day finished and nothing happened, either that meant they were actually staying on Skyloft for nine months, maybe even years, or they had been wrong about the “nine” all this time.
Legend’s foot tapped anxiously. Through the window, he watched the sky slowly darken. Surely, surely any moment now… something would happen. He had grown to enjoy the quiet Skyloft, but he didn’t want to be trapped here forever.
If this ended up being like Koholint, he might just lose it.
The door opened. It’s quiet click and creak sounded like an explosion to the tense, silent room. Wild and Hyrule fully jumped. Wind let out a surprised squeak.
Little Sky poked his head in. A collective sigh swept through the office. Legend snorted, acting as if he hadn’t just gotten startled like all the others.
“What’s going on?” Sky asked.
“Link, We’re having a grown-up talk,” Gaepora said, crossing the office to herd the kid out.
“Let him stay,” Legend blurted. When the headmaster glanced back at him, he shrugged. “Might as well.”
Sky seemed to accept that as an answer. He darted around Gaepora’s legs and practically threw himself onto Legend’s lap. The vet grunted, nearly regretting saying anything at all. A few chuckles and snickers came from the others. Twilight looked heartbroken that the kid hadn’t chosen him instead, only consoled by Wild patting him on the back.
Little Sky seemed perfectly content on his perch. “What’re you all talking about?” he asked.
“Nothing big, don’t worry,” Wind assured from his place leaning against the wall. He grinned as he said, “Boring, adult stuff.” It was probably the first time the teenager had ever gotten to turn those words onto someone else.
Legend eyed the window. The sky was darker—only a slight yellow-green haze just above the horizon remained from the sun.
Sky blew air from his lips. He craned his head back to look at Legend. “I want to play,” he declared. “Let’s go.”
Legend’s heart squeezed. He pointedly ignored the teasing smile on Hyrule’s face and ruffled the kid’s hair. “We’ll play in a bit.”
That seemed to pacify the little skyloftian. He settled with a chipper, “Okay!”
Four turned to Time. “How much longer, do you think?” he asked quietly. His question still carried throughout the office.
Time shrugged. Very helpful, old man.
“Vet,” Sky said, pulling Legend’s attention away from the discussion Four’s question sparked. He looked down at the eight-year-old on his lap.
“Yeah?”
The kid smiled at him. “Thanks for being my friend.”
Legend’s throat closed up. He blinked rapidly and managed a wobbly smile back. He opened his mouth to reply, and—
He woke up.
He lurched upright with a gasp. Cold stone sent shivers up his legs. His head spun, vision fuzzy.
“Thank the goddesses!” a voice exclaimed. Someone was kneeling right in front of him, hands hovering as if afraid to touch him. To Legend’s bleary eyes, they only looked like a vaguely hylian-shaped blob. “You’re awake!” they cried. “You’re all awake!”
Slowly, Legend’s vision focused. The blob gradually solidified into Sky.
Sky, who was not eight-years-old. Sky, who looked very frazzled.
Legend’s head whipped around. They were in the dungeon—the big chamber with the stone eye on the ceiling and the numbers on the wall. Spread across the floor, all of the heroes were groggily sitting up, rubbing their eyes and looking around in confusion.
“How are you feeling? Can you see me? Hear me?” Sky’s frantic questions filtered in through the cotton plugging Legend’s ears. He blinked at the kid—no, the knight. Disorientated, he managed a nod.
Sky sagged back on his heels. “Thank Hylia. Praise Hylia. Oh, thank the goddesses.”
“We’re back,” Legend said blankly.
“You’ve all been asleep for nine hours,” Sky told him. He had dark bags under his eyes, his hair ruffled and askew as if he had continuously ran a hand through it.
Twilight’s groggy voice sounded out. “What happened?”
“After the stone eye looked at me, there was this big flash of light, and you all collapsed,” Sky explained. As if prompted by his words, Legend’s head started throbbing, probably from whacking the ground.
Sky walked around and checked each of them over as he continued his tale. “After that, the stone eye closed up. Nothing else happened, but it was like all of you were asleep. I thought maybe it was a curse, but the Master Sword didn’t do anything. Fairies didn’t help either—sorry, I let them all go trying to wake you guys up.”
Warriors, who was having his turn being looked over by the stressed skyloftian, waved his concerns aside. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We’ll tell you what happened, just… just give us a second.”
Sky let them collect themselves, though he anxiously hovered around them, as if afraid they would suddenly crumble. Legend grunted as he clambered to his feet, a motion echoed by the rest. The dizziness was subsiding, and the sleepiness that had clung to him was gradually sloughing off.
Once they were all up, they left the dungeon, not wanting to spend another second in the dusty, dim, chamber.
The outside air was a balm that washed away the rest of the fuzziness. It was night. Legend craned his head up to the stars. He strained his memory for when they first entered the dungeon nine weeks ago—or, no, only nine hours, apparently. If he remembered correctly, they had entered the dungeon just after dinner. That meant it was now very, very late, or very, very early.
Hardly without speaking, they set up a camp a good distance away from the dungeon entrance. Sky looked dead tired, so there was an unspoken agreement to let the knight sleep. Before that, however, Sky insisted on hearing what had happened to them.
Warriors, Four, and Twilight were the ones to explain it all. Sky listened intently; Legend could tell he was forcing himself to stay awake just a little longer. By the end of it, his dry, tired eyes were pinned on the fire Wild had set up. There was a tense look on his face—maybe contemplative to some. Legend thought he looked vaguely nauseous.
“Well, I don’t remember any of that, so it must’ve not been my actual past,” he said. He huffed a quiet laugh that sounded suspiciously shaky. “Sounds like I missed out on a lot.”
Legend frowned. Warriors laughed back and slapped the knight on the shoulder, saying how glad they were to be back with their actual skyloftian. Sky smiled back, but Legend could tell it was fake. There was slight panic in those tired eyes. Nine weeks ago—no, nine hours ago—Legend wouldn’t have recognized it. He wouldn’t have even cared to look.
The conversation went on for only a little longer, mostly just Sky asking some clarifying questions, as well as double checking they were actually feeling okay. Once they gave him ample reassurances, the skyloftian surrendered himself to his bed roll. He was out in seconds.
Apparently, the rest of them had already slept during the last nine hours. While that was true, it certainly didn’t feel like it. Their minds were still preparing for the coming night, as it had been evening on Skyloft.
While their bodies were wide awake, their heads weren’t.
Even so, they eventually drifted off to their own mats. Hyrule volunteered to stay up for the watch—the only one, seeing as there weren’t that many hours left of the night.
Legend dragged himself to his bedroll, laid down, and stared up at the starry sky. Thin clouds ambled past, making the pinpricks of light blink in and out. He stayed like that for a long time, listening to the chorus of crickets and Hyrule’s soft humming by the fire.
This wasn’t like Koholint. While they were similar, he hadn’t lost anyone; Sky was sleeping right next to him. But he had lost moments, memories—he lost that night finding an eight-year-old patrolling during a festival. He lost the evening spent dancing in the tavern. He lost the hours spent playing and laughing.
Sky didn’t remember any of it because it hadn’t actually happened.
A voice piped up in his head that sounded suspiciously like Hyrule. “Well, then you better start making new ones.”
He was already planning on it. First thing tomorrow morning, he was going to make things right.
It was a lot easier said than done. The morning sun poured down into their little camp as they lazily ambled out, taking their time in prepping for the day. It was mostly for Sky’s benefit, who, while awake, was clearly still exhausted from those nine hours of non-stop stress.
As Wild prepared some breakfast, Sky had gathered everyone’s water flasks. Legend watched him from where he chopped up carrots for the champion’s stew. The rest of them hadn’t left the skyloftian alone so far, probably trying to offer comfort for what happened in the dungeon, which was nice, but that meant Legend hadn’t gotten an opportunity to enact his plan.
Then, finally, with a call of “be back soon,” Sky carted off to the nearby stream. Legend immediately shot to his feet. Before he could chase after the knight, however, Wild clamped a hand around his wrist.
“We’re not done here,” the cook said, a deep frown on his face.
Legend glanced at the closest hero, which happened to be Wind. The kid wasn’t even doing anything, just laying on his back with his arms crossed under his head. “Sailor,” Legend called, pulling his wrist free from Wild, “chop these carrots for me.”
Wind popped his head up. “What?” he whined. “But I’m busy.”
“Too bad,” he said over his shoulder, and darted off before anyone else could intervene. The sailor would be fine. He could survive a little carrot chopping.
Legend heard the stream before he saw it—the quiet trickling of water over smoothed rocks, almost like wind chimes. Sky knelt at the edge, the pile of empty flasks waiting on a flat rock to his side. He wasn’t filling them up, just merely sitting and gazing at the water. His sailcloth had unfurled over his hunched shoulders, hiding his arms and hands beneath its white fabric.
Legend cleared his throat. Sky’s head whipped back. A grimace flashed over his face before it was buried beneath a soft, welcoming smile. “You didn’t need to come help. I can handle this,” he said.
“I want to talk.”
The smile faltered. “Talk…?”
With determined steps, Legend marched right up to the stream and sat down. Sky watched with clear confusion, not even trying to hide it. When several seconds passed with nothing but the bubbling of the water, he awkwardly cleared his throat and patted his thighs. “Well, I’m sure it can wait, yeah?” He went to stand.
“I’m sorry.”
He froze. Stared with blank eyes. “You’re… sorry?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” he snapped before quickly reeling himself back. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
Sky settled back down, now with concern swimming in his gaze. “Vet, there’s nothing—”
“No. I need to apologize,” he interrupted. His hands, braced over his thighs, fisted in the fabric of his tunic. “I’ve been a jerk.”
Sky didn’t say anything, which was about as much confirmation as Legend needed. He bit the inside of his cheek and said, with a slightly trembling voice, “I’m blunt. I’m rude. I’m brash. I know I am. I’ve picked on you ever since we started traveling together, then picked on you even more because I knew you wouldn’t fight back.”
To his horror, his eyes started to burn. For a moment, all he saw was the little eight-year-old backing away in fear as he yelled, as he blew up at a kid. Who did that? What sort of hero made a little kid run away?
“I doubted you,” he went on, “because I couldn’t see around my own bloated head. I’m egotistical, and I have a short temper. I’m awful.” He whirled onto Sky, tears beading along the corners of his eyes as he saw the shock on the knight’s face. “And I hate you because I am so awful and you’re not. You’re so happy, and patient, and likable, and I’m not.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re better than me in every way.”
“You’re wrong.”
Legend faltered.
Sky gazed into the stream. The morning sun glinted off of the ambling water, sparkling like dozens of shards of glass. “I’m not better than you,” he said. “I’m a mess. I lie to everyone. I lie, and I hide, and I pretend.”
A bird suddenly leapt from a tree. It darted across the stream, chirping all the while. Legend stared at the skyloftian sitting on the bank, and he thought of the little kid who sprung to his feet and said, with tear stains on his cheeks, “Sorry, mister. I’m okay!”
He thought of his own voice, serious and stern, as he leaned towards the traveler and the sailor and declared, “It’s a mask.”
“Truth is, vet, I admire you,” Sky admitted. He laughed, but it sounded small and sad. “You’re so you, yet I can’t even stay myself for a day. I’m a fraud.”
Legend didn’t know what to say.
“Can I tell you something?” Sky went on. He didn’t wait for an answer. “When you all told me what happened… I was terrified. I still am. I have no idea what you all saw in there—what you saw from me.”
“It was about what you’d expect,” Legend answered quietly. “You’ve always been hiding.”
He huffed. “I have, haven’t I.”
“But you shouldn’t have had to,” Legend said decisively. “You were a kid. You shouldn’t have had to pretend. Even—even now! You shouldn’t hide from us, especially us. We, out of everyone, would know how you feel.”
“But then I wouldn’t be your sweet brother Sky anymore, would I?” Sky snapped. “You wouldn’t know who I am.”
“Then screw it!” Legend launched to his feet, buzzing with nerves and anger and grief. “Fine! I don’t know who you are, so introduce yourself.”
Sky blinked up at him.
“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy,” he huffed. He tried to inhale, but his breath stuttered in his chest. He cursed under his breath as he angrily wiped his eyes. For oracle’s sake, he should be stronger than this; he needed to keep it together!
A hand appeared in his line of vision. He stilled. Slowly lowered his hands.
Sky stood across from him, holding out a hand. A small smile wobbled on his face. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Sky. I once flushed someone’s love letter down the toilet and knocked a chandelier off the ceiling in a tavern. I tend to hold grudges for the silliest things, and sometimes I’m terribly naive. I’m a bit of a mess.”
Legend laughed wetly. He took his hand and shook. “That was a terrible introduction.”
Sky grinned and, suddenly, Legend was yanked into a hug. He went stiff as a board.
“Thanks, vet,” the knight said softly. Before Legend could even think of a response, Sky lurched back, hands springing away as if he’d been burnt. “Right, sorry. No touching. You don’t like—”
Legend cut him off by pulling him back into the hug. “Shut up,” he grumbled. Then he buried his face in his shoulder and said, his voice muffled, “it’s nice to meet you, Sky.”
And it was. Maybe it should’ve been under better circumstances, but he was glad to have met the Sky from the past. It had led to this—to him finally understanding this stupid, nice, far-too-patient sky knight.
Something bitter and vicious in his chest finally settled down. His shoulders relaxed. Before, he had thought that he and Sky were far too different—even complete opposites. Sky was kind, he was not. Sky was caring, he was not.
Maybe there was still some truth to that. He didn’t think Sky would lose his soft edges, and he certainly wouldn’t lose his sharpness. But perhaps they were much more similar than he had always assumed.
They were both, to put it simply, a mess.
“I’m sorry I made fun of your bunny form,” Sky said suddenly, shattering the peaceful quiet. Then, Legend practically felt the way a smile widened across his face, despite it being impossible for him to see it. “Can’t promise I won’t do it again.”
Legend just sighed. “Thanks, Sky.”