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The battle had been a long one, the two sides trading ground for far longer than Link would have liked. It shouldn't have taken this long, but both sides had gotten reinforcements. He'd long since lost track of Lana but as a Guardian of Time she should be able to handle herself, so he pushed that to the side. He couldn't leave his position, not now.
Behind him stood the makeshift medics's area, as closed off from the battlefield as they could make it. Only a few minutes ago he had been dragged there by kids of all people, kids who had no place being on a battlefield and yet here they were, because they had already been on a battlefield, in their own times and just as young, if not younger than they were right now. All three of them had been injured to some degree or another, but the line was being held and it was time to be taken care of. He'd insisted the younger two be taken care of first - his injuries weren't that severe and they would feel the effects of theirs first. It was after the two had been shuffled in, the kids giving him a look that meant he better not run off and get himself hurt any worse, that Link had found himself thinking about them
Tune at least was a teenager, willowy and still working on losing the last of his baby fat, but with a gleam in his eye that told of experience and hard won confidence. It somehow hadn't taken long for Tune to trust him, falling in alongside the Captain almost too quickly. Link had tried asking about it, but apparently the kid (could he even call the other kid? It wasn't as if the captain was that much older) seemed to know just how to redirect him, switching the topic so easily that it wasn't until Tune had walked away that he realized he'd never gotten an answer to his question. Along that vein, he always seemed to know when Link was worse off than he tried to play off, dragging him off to the medics or forcing a red potion into his hands.
Mask, also, was more perceptive than he seemed. When he'd been asked how old he was, the kid had shook his head, refusing to answer. Link hadn't wanted to push, but when he didn't want to give his name either, they'd compromised on calling him Mask, since he'd use them in battle.
Link really didn't know how old Mask was, but he'd seen the haunted expression he wore sometimes when he couldn't sleep, when the nightmares clogged his throat and played unendingly behind closed eyes. The kid was smart, agile, and although he seemed unused to working as a team, he’d managed to find a place.
He'd seen them both play at being kids, pulling pranks and arguing as only brothers could, and somehow they'd drawn him in too. On nights when traitors and soldiers alike rose from their graves and he awoke covered in sweat, two small bodies would be curled into his, radiating warmth. Sometimes they would end up awake in pairs or all three, and then Link would take them all over to the mess tent, warming up some of the milk to help lull them back to sleep.
They might not be flesh and blood, but just like the soldiers they fought alongside, they were brothers and Link would do anything for them. It appeared that the battle was finally coming to an end, but Link didn't put down his guard quite yet.
They didn't expect the group who flanked the tent. They came swiftly, swarming the tired soldiers who were flagging, and the captain threw himself into the battle. His brothers were in there and he was not going to let this line go down without a fight. He roared his defiance and the men roared with him, defending the medics and those in their care.
It wasn't a large group, comparatively, and everything seemed to be going alright, until he heard the unmistakable sound of a spear penetrating flesh and the resulting gurgle of pain. He turned, expecting the sight of one of his soldiers, and his blood froze.
Tune stood there, propped up on a spear, a thin streak of red trailing from his mouth.
Link let out a battle cry and dove for the spear-holder, turning to his brother once the man was dead and laying him down gently. He started battlefield triage, hoping beyond hope the medics would hear him and come help already.
“Hey Wars,” the teen coughed, just barely audible over the dying din of battle. “Oh wait… you… don't get that yet.”
“Shut up, just wait until the healers come out,” Link replied, not questioning the apparent slip up. That could wait for later, when Tune was okay. Beneath his hands, the kid’s skin was slick with blood. The spear must have hit an artery for him to be losing blood this fast, and a cry for Lana left his lips. Lana was a healer, a magician, a Hylia-damned Guardian of Time she needed to come out here and help.
He could have cried when blue hair filled his vision, the glow of magic reassuring, and he sat back to let her work, almost scrubbing a hand over his eyes before he remembered the blood still on them and dropped them into his lap instead. After a moment the glow died down and Tune was-
Tune was gone.
Eyes wide in disbelief, Link turned to her, a question on his lips that he couldn't quite get out, and she shook her head.
“He’s finally gone home, Link.”