Chapter Text
The first thing Link noticed when he regained consciousness was the feeling of sickness in his gut that always came with either travelling through time if he was lucky or through worlds if he wasn’t. The second was the lack of the familiar and comforting weight of his sword and shield. The third was the tight binding of his wrists, which was not impervious to a firm tug.
Opening his good and remaining eye, he was met with the sight of several unfamiliar-looking men. Three in front of him and two at his side, judging by the breathing and the heartbeats that his sensitive hylian ears picked up. All four of them seemed to be bound, although his eye narrowed as he noticed to his right that the man in grey fine fur was gagged as well as bound. He sat up straighter to look around; they appeared to be sitting in a carriage carrying them down a misty road. He had only ever been in a carriage once, back in Termina, when he aided Cremia, and he hated it as much then as he did now. Even if he wasn't bound, he would’ve felt trapped and vulnerable.
His ears twitching hitting ever so slightly the two men next to him as he turned to meet the man who had begun speaking to him.
“ hey you you're finally awake; you must’ve been trying to cross that border." His voice was gruff in a slightly unfamiliar accent, and the language, although he could understand the meaning behind the word perfectly well thanks to his Hylian ears, was unfamiliar—not Hylian or the multitude of other languages he knew. The words themselves took a moment to set in, crossing the border. What border, and who were these men?
The gruff man remained unbothered by the one-eyed boy's reaction. " Must've walked straight into that imperial ambush, same as us and that horse thief over there,” he nodded to his own right, where a darker-haired man in rags glared up at the bearded blond.
"Eight curse you, Stormcloak. Skyrim was fine before you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell.” These words swirled in the young hero’s mind: the empire, Skyrim Hammerfell; by context, he gathered that they were kingdoms or provinces. Although Link knew he wasn’t the most knowledgeable about other kingdoms surrounding him, he knew for a fact that that he had never heard of either of these kingdoms or seen them on any of his maps. That sickening feeling of traveling between worlds or time still remained; if it were ridding the rivers of time, it would’ve passed by now. But he remembered that the sensation hadn’t passed for several cycles in Termina. The travelling sickness, the unfamiliar language, and his lack of knowledge of these kingdoms led only to one conclusion: he was in an unfamiliar world yet again. The sinking feeling as he realized he was yet again away from his home, and most likely knowing his luck meant to save whatever world this was… great. His missing eye socket itched, one of the many perpetual reminders of his time in Termina, both on and off his body.
The horsethief turned to him and was about to say something before he took in his appearance. “By the eight, you're just a child!”
Link shot him a glare, and despite his age and size, it was quite effective, both due to his missing eye, the warpaint, and the aura around him. ”I’m not a child.” The words came out a little slowly as his mouth familiarized itself with the language. It was odd; it hadn’t been the first time he had learned a new tongue so quickly, but it never stopped feeling wrong.
The bearded man also turned to him as if he were seeing him for the first time, flinching at the scar that covered his right eye. “ you one of those wood elves? No, your face and eye are too human, and your ears are longer and pointer than any elf I ever saw.”
Link looked at the men in front of him and at his sides. They all had the short, rounded ears of Gerudo and the few humans he had met from outside the kingdom of Hyrule. “I’m a Hylian." He said simply that he was obviously captured by this empire, although he didn’t remember how, and was likely being taken to a prison nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. His eye went down to his side; he was luckily still dressed in his kokiri-style tunic, white long-sleeved undershirt, and darker pants and not thrown into rags, thankfully. And to his surprise, as he looked down, his ocarina was still hanging from his belt; perhaps they didn’t see any threat or value in it, but he was infinitely grateful not having to deal with recovering it again, especially after what happened with Skull Kid, even if he was in his own body this time (or as much of his own body that he could have anymore).
“Hylian huh. I can’t believe I ever heard of them, you from across the sea.“ Ralof, whose name was unknown to Link, inquired.
The hylian shrugged and said, “Something like that.” He lied as easily as it came.
The older man shrugged, obviously believing the kid’s words. "It doesn’t matter now; we’re all brothers and sisters in binds now.” His voice was calm yet reserved; he was a man who accepted what life threw at him—the voice of a soldier—something that Link respected.
“Shut up back there!” The driver of the carriage yelled back to the prisoners. The conversation continued between the two men despite the warning. Yet Link only paid half attention to the conversation as he gathered the basics. This kingdom belonged to an empire and was currently entangled in a civil war. like the one that killed his parents. That in the carige was the leader of the rebellion, was the gagged man something called a Jarl?
Most importantly, he learned that this group, of which he seemed to be a part, was heading for execution. Unlike most people, especially children, who would be terrified of this prospect, Link wasn’t. For one, he knew he wouldn’t be in this situation called to a new world yet again if he was just to be killed by a headsman axe, and second, he had the strength to easily break the leather bonds and play his ocarina if things did get bad. And finally, he appeared to be a child no older than fourteen. Most people didn’t wish to have the guilt of a child's death, especially if they were innocent.
The carriage stopped near the back of the town, near the gate and tower. In total, there were three carriages each filled with five prisoners; not counting him and the horsethief, there were thirteen rebels—not a large force but enough for a quick and powerful strike.
Obviously, it was not successful. He didn’t know what to think of these men; one who had spoken to him seemed friendly enough, and this empire had just shoved him in with the prisoner, but then again, he didn’t have any context.
He jumped down from the carriage with everyone else, standing on the tips of his toes to get a better view. The others had lined up in front of a strict-looking officer in steel armor standing next to a younger man, only a few years older than he had been three years ago. (wasn’t that a confusing thought, but he was used to the mass of contradiction that) he was holding a piece of parchment reading off the names of the prisoners.
“Ralof of Riverwood,” the man read off as the bearded man sighed, stepping forward before turning and giving the Hylian teen a small smile. “You’ll be fine. Just say you're not with us and from across the sea.” He said it awkwardly, trying to pat him on the shoulder.
Link nodded. By this time, he had already slipped from his binds and just lightly tied them, so it appeared that he was still tightly bound. He was weighing his chances on what to do. He liked this Ralof, and he didn’t want any more people to die because of him. But he was one person without any weapons, masks, or tools, as they were all in his sack that appeared to have been taken when he’d arrived. He was alone; only with his ocarina and magic, he supposed, could he pause the flow of time for a moment—a neat treat that he had learned back in the war of eras. But as he watched the horsethiefget shot down as he tried to run, he thought better of it for this moment.
“You step forward.” The list man said this as Link looked around and realized he was talking to him. The man stumbled slightly. “You're just a kid." He muttered, “Who are you?” He asked, his lip trembling a bit.
“ Link.” The young hero responded with his voice, even staring up at the older man with a neutral expression.
“Shor’s bones, you're just a kid... Captain, we can’t.”
“He’s obviously some kind of warrior; that scar on his eye, the warpaint, the posture—he goes to the block.”
“But he’s not on the list.”
“Forget the.”
“Captain Petianus!” A harsh voice interrupted as the one whom the others called General Tullius stepped forward. “It's against imperial law to condemn a child under the age of fifteen to death without a trial. and I can’t see an elven child working with the stormcloaks.” He turned to Link and sized him up. The young hero stood up straighter under the general's gaze; he could tell the man was no warrior, but wickedly cunning in the art of warfare, with a look in his eyes that reminded him of Sheik. “You boy, where are you from? You don’t look like any elf I've ever seen.” He asked firmly, but not harshly.
“I’m from across the sea.” He repeated the lie. He didn’t know the word elf, although it was used several times to describe him.
The general’s eyes widened ever so slightly. But he nodded, surprised. “Well, I’m sorry you got mixed up in this. Hadvar freed the boy.” As the brown-haired man nodded and moved towards Link, he effortlessly broke the leather with his dagger. “Stand with me, boy, and after this is all done, we’ll get your items.”
Another of the soldiers stifled chuckled, and she muttered under her breath, “You're sure it’s his general; I could barely lift the sword he had.” Her voice trailed off as they heard what Link-sensitive ears could only hear: the echoing screech of a beast. His left hand quickly went over his shoulder, looking for a blade that wasn’t there.
The general and the jarl, as well as a few of the quicker soldiers, noticed that his movement was almost too quick to see—that of a seasoned warrior with years of training that far outclassed his age. However, Hadvar was more focused on the noise: "Did you hear that?”
Tuilius sighed, his eyes returning to the prisoners, gesturing to link to move to the side of the guards. “It’s nothing; carry on.” He said it firmly.
Link stayed silent, his fingers twitching at his ocarina. He didn’t know what to do. He hated fighting, well, people. He had killed people before a few times; Ganondorf didn’t count., but each time it weighed on his spirit. His purpose as a hero was to safeguard others, not to take their lives. So even if he had his weapon trying to free someone, let’s just say he’d most likely have to fight his way out, which he didn’t want to do, but would he be more of a hero saving the life of someone? His fingers moved on the holes of his ocarina, mimicking the motion of the song of time. The echoing roar startled him again, causing him to miss the first execution. For the second time, he tried to grab weapons that weren’t there. He had heard a similar sound before, back in the heart of a volcano and on one of the many Time lost battlefields.
His eye stayed focused on the sky, waiting for it. Even as Ralof was called up to the block, he missed being so focused on his plan without his blade. He knew how to fight well enough with his body, although when he did fight with his body, he wasn’t in his body.
His vision darkened as a massive figure blocked out the sun, a creeping cold feeling over the town that made links finely tuned to fight or well-fight instincts in full force as he stared up at the massive dragon, larger than any he had ever seen before; its scales were as black as the darkest storms. Its eyes glowed as if they were hot embers in a fire. Yet what scared the hero of time the most was how he could feel time itself breaking around the beast—a feeling he only felt well with himself.
The beast landed upon the tower, crushing it with its weight, and dust flew everywhere. Its shockwave made the axe man fall back right as he was about to swing at Ralof.
“Dragon!!” Someone screamed rather unhelpfully.