Chapter Text
“Well, that was unexpected.”
“Everyone alive?” It’s Sky’s voice that sounds out from somewhere on his left, promptly breaking into a fit of hacking and coughing the moment the words escape but otherwise sounding no worse than winded. Or at least, Legend hopes so.
From near his feet, Wild’s voice pipes up with a faint groan. “That came out of nowhere!”
“And you wonder why I prefer to stay on the path.” Perhaps it’s not the best of times for him to be making snide comments, but as it serves the purpose of also proving he’s alive, uninjured and still very much himself, the veteran hero doesn’t hold back, instead scrabbling for something to use to push himself more upright than he is at present. Technically, there’s something solid beneath him, but his head is downhill and feet up and it’s both disorienting and uncomfortable, especially with the remains of the ground they had previously been standing on heaped up beneath him and very full of rocks.
Above him, Wild makes to do the same, making dirt and small stones cascade down over him and earning a choking squawk of protest for doing so. “Hey now, don’t bury me alive just because I didn’t say I’m alive!”
“Well excuuuse me,” the champion huffs. “You first then, your royal highness. My apologies for presuming.” The wildling is smiling though, eyes glinting in that weird way they do in poor lighting and Legend just rolls his own in answer, but scurries to move out of the way of the next wave of rubble should the teenager decide he’s not keen on waiting very long.
It’s only a moment before they’re free. The dirt is more silt than soil, and he can see, as they help Sky to his feet, why it had crumbled away beneath them. Fortunately, it seems only the three of them had fallen through, at least based on the lack of another body and the distant sound of voices above them.
A low whistle escapes from the, now no longer choking on dust, skyloftian, the man setting hands to his hips and craning his dust coated head back to look up to the hole they’d fallen in through. It draws both his own and Wild’s attention, blue and violet flickering up as well and winces or whistles following.
“Not my worst fall,” the champion announces, like that’s normal.
They’d fallen two stories at least and he’s honestly not sure how none of them are injured. Shouldn’t they at least be a bit more sore? Maybe have some broken bones? Not that he’s complaining of course! No injuries are a good thing and he breathes a silent prayer of thanks for it, but it’s still kind of weird, especially with how prone to injury the long-haired teen is (Wild takes fall damage like no one Legend’s ever met and it’s frankly concerning).
No one sounds any answer out loud though, the three of them instead craning back their heads until Sky snorts a laugh and says, “look at you two, like a pair of loftwing chicks!” which promptly earns the glares of both himself and the champion, although it seems to have no effect whatsoever on their companion. “You do!”
“Ha, ha.”
“Sky,” he levels his voice into something so flat you could bounce a rupee off it if it were tangible, “you’re not funny.”
A roll of blue eyes is his answer before the elder hero turns, instead, to focus on the space around them.
It’s safe, Legend knows that much. He’s got plenty of experience with underground exploration, and he’s already been listening out for any hint of trouble. It’s silent in the cavern save for the slight hiss of falling silt, and it’s not like they have to worry about finding any sort of people down here, after all, this is the skyloftian’s era! Or, well, so Sky had said when he’d looked up to see islands floating overhead, although they’ve yet to find anything or anyone familiar to the sky dweller. Considering that the amount of people in the world is currently limited to a single settlement though, Legend’s not sure that’s all too strange in the long run.
At any rate, he hadn’t actually looked around yet, so he does when Sky does, ears twitching in search of anything new, but for the first time in his life, it seems the giant hole in the ground they’d literally stumbled into actually doesn’t have a monster inside!
Or, well, not yet.
Gosh dang it, where’s a bit of wood when you need to knock on some? He spares a glance their champion’s way, but instead, also for the first time, finds himself sighing in disappointment that the younger’s shield is, in fact, metal this time. Of freaking course. The one time they need it not to be!
“Is this one of the dungeons from your adventure?” Wild asks, clambering down the slope of rubble to stand at the skyloftian’s side, a motion Legend elects to not follow this time, instead maintaining his distance and, while he keeps one ear trained on the other two heroes, instead focuses on looking around the place they’d fallen.
Wild’s question has grounds; this place certainly looks like an old dungeon! Or a temple, he muses, eyes trailing towards carvings and statues of some figure or another. He doesn't recognize it from his own adventures, but given that those aren’t bound to happen for a few thousand years at least, it’s no great surprise. He doesn’t recognize the statues or carvings either though, but again, it’s long before his time and, if it is Sky’s era and these are ancient already, it’s unlikely any records exist of this place, much less the artwork once lovingly worked within it.
Sky only shakes his head though, pebbles and dirt flying loose from honey-blonde at the motion. “No, I can’t say it is.” There’s a pause, a frown and a glance about, cursory and curious, but just as befuddled as the younger two. “I’ve never seen this place in my life.”
There’s a hum in answer, faintly glowing blue-green turning to look about before glancing back up. “Think they can hear us up there?”
Legend hasn’t time for an answer, not when their skyloftian cups his hands around his mouth and, with a bellow the likes of which one would never assume even him to be capable of, the chosen hero booms “We’re okay!”
His ears are ringing now. Great.
Wild shakes his head, wincing and batting at his ears in a manner not unlike Wolfie when he gets wet. “I did not know you could get that loud.”
“Perks of living in the sky,” comes the abashed answer, chucked slightly, “sometimes you have to tell other riders things and flying closer isn’t always an option.”
They both nod to that, although Legend does have to give his own ears a few flicks in the hopes of making them stop ringing at least a little bit.
That’s part of why he catches the bellow back from above. Given the distance, and the distortion of sound by the room around them, he can’t tell who it is that’s yelling, but he knows for a fact that it’s not Wind; the voice is too deep and doesn’t crack into a high pitched squeal halfway through the words. Given that his ears are still ringing though, he only catches half of what’s said, something to the effect of ‘can you get out?’
The three of them exchange a glance and then, simultaneously, although they aren’t told to, he and Wild clap hands over their ears, protecting themselves this time from the resounding bellow of their brother as he shouts back whatever it is that he’s shouting back. More likely than not, the veteran supposes, it’s a negative. It should be a negative; there’s no way even his hookshot is long enough to reach the ceiling, and even if he dismantled a few of them and connected the chains, there’s not enough power in one of those things to launch that much chain that high and actually catch on something.
In short, there’s little to no chance of them getting out the same way as they got in.
Not that he’s exactly disappointed about that, in all honesty. Legend is, by nature, a dungeon crawler, and he hates leaving things undone. If he’s found a new dungeon then his brain is not going to let him rest until he’s cleared it and sniffed out every bit of potentially useful treasure inside, even if that does mean fighting monsters or occasionally getting lost. That's not to say, of course, that he’s foolhardy about it, but save the one spot they’d fallen through, the roof of the room does look quite sturdy, as do the walls, so he’s not really too worried about a cave in or anything. Although, just to be safe, he does slip out his ring box to fish out one of the ones that magically makes him lighter, just in case of crumbling floors or similar such annoyances.
As though coming to a similar conclusion to him, Wild’s got his slate out, lifting and pointing it around like it does something (it might, Legend isn’t sure. He’s not been allowed to investigate it for himself yet).
As for Sky, the elder hero is just standing there, frowning.
Well, much as he hates to, it looks like he’ll be taking the lead here! He supposes he should anyway, what with dungeons and temples and old crumbling buildings sort of being his specialty as a hero and all. “Split up?” he suggests, glancing first at one and then the other of his companions. “Wild and I head off that way,” he motions up towards the left, “and you go that,” the right, “we meet back here in-” a pause, “Wild does that slate thing keep time?”
“Yep!”
He cocks a brow at the skyloftian. “How’s your head clock?”
“Not as good as Time’s,” comes the snorted reply, “and not great without sun or stars to track, but I can manage.”
“Meet back in an hour?”
A nod. “Alright.”
So, he nods, motions Wild to follow him, and heads off deeper into the room. It’s a big room too, great columns and pillars having to help hold up the ceiling for a lack of central walls. He takes care to light a lantern of course, and Wild flips his slate about to use as a light of his own, but even with that, there’s nothing to be seen of the far walls, just the one they’d landed by.
Despite himself, and the unfortunate circumstances leading to this situation, or the fact that he’s got a still green behind the ears hero on his tail, Legend feels a thrill of excitement shiver up his spine as they head off into the dark, eyes trailing the one wall they can see.
A new dungeon! One not from his era! One that could tell him more about his brother’s era! About the era before him! About the first days of Hyrule before Skyloft was lifted!
His feet stutter over the stone, a barely restrained skip.
Wild snorts a laugh under his breath. “Are you excited about this?” His voice echoes some in the room around them, and he desperately hopes that doesn’t mean that Sky hears it, although, considering he can still make out the shuffled step of the elder, it probably does.
In answer though, he just rolls his eyes, although considering he can’t make his mouth still, lips tugging upwards against his will, he’s pretty sure it’s pointless. “Look, champ, if causing explosions and cooking meals is your thing, then dungeons are mine.”
“I cook for fun,” his companion responds, maneuvering over the rubble of an old pillar, one that, on second glance, probably used to hold up the space they’d fallen in through. “Not because it’s my job.”
“It is your job in this group.” He lifts a ringed hand to shine lantern light about them some more. Nothing skitters away in the darkness but his ears still flap slightly, despite all efforts to stop them, when he sees old carvings cast in deep shadow, sees bits and pieces that aren’t, in fact, moldered away to nothing but almost as clear as though fresh chiseled.
Wild’s breath comes in a faint scoff. “Only because I’ve proved to be good at it, which, again, is only because I enjoy cooking. Just because you’re the best at something doesn’t mean you enjoy it though. So,” booted feet pause, which is his own loss because Legend doesn’t do the same, continuing on despite the weight of eyes now on him, “are you enjoying this or just doing what you have to?”
He rolls his eyes, reaching out to brush his hands over the wall as he walks, an old habit but definitely also prompted by the carvings there that run rough under the pads of his palm, cuts deep set in the stone and precise like only the best can achieve. “Can’t it be both?”
“Yeah,” he can just tell the champion is shrugging, “it can. I just- I never thought I’d actually see you enjoying something.”
The veteran’s feet pause, hands doing the same, but he doesn’t dignify those words with a look back over his shoulder because “excuse me?”
“You know,” there’s laughter in that tenor tone, “because you’re such a hard ass about everything?”
“Wild,” his voice echoes back, crisp, clear, and sharp, “must you?”
“Warriors isn’t here,” it’s more the normal sound of his voice now, more even and just sort of half-smiling, warm but not exactly fond, “I figured I’d try filling his shoes for a moment.”
“I don’t think you could,” he clips back, starting off again and lifting the lantern higher, although he’s sure to follow the words up, just in case Wild takes them the wrong way, “his feet are huge, you’d trip.” Aaaand now it just sounds like symbolism to say Wild’s lesser than Warriors, shit. Crap. Why him? Why did he volunteer to babysit Twilight’s student again? He’s so going to have the rancher up his tail about this conversation if Wild takes it too much to heart, crap. Gosh danggit, why can’t he think things through before speaking?
Honestly, Wild could be bothered much more about the vet’s words, probably would be really if they weren’t promptly followed by long ears pricking back and downwards like it’s in regret. Besides, he’d be in poor shape if he couldn’t take some light-hearted ribbing from a team-mate. Legend never means much of what he says in that regard anyways, so while it technically is true, he elects to ignore it.
He doesn’t want to be like Warriors anyway, so it really shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t!
Anyways, it’s pretty easy to forget about it, because a moment later those same long ears are flying forwards and up, alert, eager almost, and he’s finding himself smiling as Legend’s breath catches in a little awed puff before long fingers are trailing carefully all about and violet eyes are squinting to make out whatever he thinks he’s found.
“Wouldn’t your fire rod do a better job?” He asks, stopping his own steps a short distance behind the other, not particularly interested in whatever’s caught the vet’s eyes, especially when watching the vet actually shiver with excitement, ears downright flapping with the same, is so entertaining a thing.
There’s some dismissive motion or noise. “No. Only if I light it up and I am not minding an open flame down here.”
“Don’t they glow?” His all glow.
A roll of the eyes says his aren’t normal, just like apparently everything he knows about. “Only when activated, not when idle.”
Still, “you’re going to hurt your eyes.”
“Got a better suggestion?”
And he actually does! So, he steps forwards, reaching for Legend’s lantern, and though the ever so slightly shorter hero gives him an odd and wary look for it, ringed fingers release the thing slowly at his guiding, with only a warning of “don’t you dare break that” that he nods to before offering his slate instead.
“The camera function has a good light, and if you want, you can even snap some pictos so we aren’t standing here forever.”
Violet eyes blink ever so slowly. “Camera?”
Oh, right. “It works like a picto-box,” he comes around to be standing beside his brother, rather than before, setting the lantern down for a moment so he can illustrate what he’s talking about to the eager-eyed veteran who leans just a bit closer to watch him, chin almost on his shoulder. The motion makes Wild stifle a laugh, but he manages somehow to keep his calm long enough to explain the camera. “Have you used a picto-box before?”
“Sort of?” He’s never actually heard Legend sound unsure before. “I borrowed one once or twice, but I don’t have one.” And then, before he can marvel at that fact, the vet adds, “they’re pretty rare in my era, and those that do have them aren’t open to selling, nor do I technically need one or-”
“I get it,” and he does end up laughing this time at how quickly Legend jumped on that, defensive as though he knew (and he likely did) what Wild was thinking. “Well, it’s really easy to do.” And it is, and Legend picks it up quickly. The vet is hesitant at first, fingers tapping ever so careful over the buttons and screen of the Sheikah slate, but when he successfully manages it there’s an immediate prick forwards of his ears, a glint in his eyes, and a little grin touches usually down-turned lips.
Oh yeah, the vet is an explorer at heart too, just maybe less daring than himself and Hyrule. Either that, or he’s just had more bad experiences in going off the path than those who don’t have many paths have experienced. Either way, there’s hope for him yet, they just have to work at it.
For now though, setting the vet free with a camera and a light that actually lets him see whatever is carved on the walls (it looks like pictures, but there’s some weird writing too) is definitely a step in the right direction. If Legend’s steps were near a skip before, they’re definitely there now, and there’s a light to dark eyes that, in a weird way, reminds him of Zelda.
Actually, come to think of it, Zelda had reacted pretty similarly to unlocking that function herself, complete with the whole wandering around old ruins and snapping pictos of nearly everything inside, even muttering under her breath in a way just like the vet does now. Wild can almost hear the cogs of his brother’s brain turning, piecing some thought or another together the deeper they go into the room, and for the first time, it’s not him leading the way into the unknown. It’s Legend.
Hyrule is going to be so thrilled to hear about this. And jealous. So totally, thoroughly jealous.
“Fascinating,” and wow, add a bit more of an accent and just a higher pitch and he could almost trick himself into thinking he was home with Zelda! Or- well, not home, precisely, but back in his own era and exploring something. Maybe the temple up north in Hebra? “Wild, do you see this?”
He doesn’t bother wandering closer, just watches from a fair distance away, close enough to keep an eye on the vet (as though the bobbing blue light in his hands wouldn’t give him away regardless), but far enough away to not end up tripping either of them up. “What is it?”
There’s a catch in the voice of his brother, pitch just an octave higher, “these carvings! This place is,” there’s a moment of a foot tapping and an ear flicking, eyes lifting with a deep breath that sounds like it’s about to explode out of the other, “this place is definitely from Hyrule’s first days; back when some say goddesses had lived on the earth, and,” another little sharp inhale, fingers tapping away on the slate, not to accomplish anything, just drumming with a welled up excitement that, was this Zelda and not Legend, would have them near nose to nose, a pair of green-blue eyes shining bright and excitement causing a tremble. Even with the vet though, the face in front of him is breaking into a crooked smile, gaze not turning to him but instead to the stone walls. “I think this was a temple for one of them!”
Deny though he will, Wild’s sure of it now; Legend genuinely enjoys dungeon crawling, or at the very least the parts of it that don’t include fighting for his life, which they don’t seem to need to do just yet (although with his luck he’s not counting on anything).
“You think?”
“I can’t make out much of the writing, there’s only so much of the old script in my era and I don’t think I have the Book of Mudora on me right now- I’m going to have to compare these pictographs to it when we get back and see if I’m translating this right, but if I’m right, that means this place is probably safe of monsters altogether! They never gather in places with holy magic.”
They do, actually, or maybe that is, again, his era being weird, but the bokoblin that haunts the doors of the Temple of Time comes to mind in an instant at the vet’s words. Although, he muses, he’s never seen one stray any closer than the doors, and never close to the statue of the goddess herself, so maybe the vet is right?
“Does it say anything about a way out?”
“Looking,” it’s clipped again, Legend again, not near an echo of Wild’s own princess. “Although if this is a temple, there’s probably not much in the way of puzzles or monsters. I think we fell directly into the central chamber, based off of all the art I’m seeing, and in a traditional dungeon or, well, the temples I’m used to, it would have-” the other trails along the walls, slate lifted as a light once more “- a larger monster in this room, usually one that’s made a nest, but nine times out of ten there’s an exit not far from-”
They’re both caught off guard, starting, jumping, and, in the case of the vet at least, instantly drawing a sword, as something whirs quite close and a new light appears on their left. The slate hits the ground, casting its own light in strange beams and shadows over his brother, but neither cares because both have eyes fixed on the source of the noise.
A glowing… orb- jem- thing.
Nothing moves, the only thing that can be heard is their breath.
Violet eyes flick up to meet his own, and, silently, Wild jerks his head towards the glowing fixture, a silent question to the more experienced between the two of them. He’s not sure why he doesn’t just ask, the thing isn’t running, or darting, or lighting up with a brightly blinking gleam to shoot at them. It’s just sitting there, harmless, for all intents and purposes, but both he and the vet still keep deadly quiet, even as the former moves closer.
He’s not had many chances to notice, but Legend doesn’t even make a noise when he walks, feet silent and not even the heavy folds of his tunic skirt rustling with his steps.
There’s a shudder of a breath as the veteran moves closer to the thing, sword still ready but apparently more of the mind, like himself, that the thing isn’t a threat. Yet. At the very least, Legend hasn’t hissed at him to move, or gather up his own weapon, or otherwise do something or another like he had last time they’d been in a dungeon. From that, and that alone, he gathers it’s quite likely this is either new to the vet too, or at the very least unusual for what he’s used to.
“Weird.”
It feels like the air itself shatters with the word, breath suddenly easier with someone having spoken, having proved that noise won’t be the death of them, and Wild sighs in answer.
Not unlike Wolfie, or Twilight, Legend cocks his head just ever so slightly on one side and frowns at the jem. “I wonder-”
And Wild hasn’t a moment to ask what he wonders, because the vet’s sword suddenly swings, striking the stone only to bounce back off again with a harsh sound that both of them wince at.
“Well,” it’s a huff, “that’s not it.”
Wild snorts. “Really? You know, I wouldn’t have-”
“Just shut up.”
He can’t help the laughter that escapes, especially when he just gets answered with rolled eyes as Legend sheaths his sword again.
“You have any better suggestions?”
And he tries, he walks right on over and tries inspecting it, but immediately, the light just… goes out.
“Okay, weird, what-” it’s just one step, a single step closer, as Legend had backed away to give him room, but the moment the vet’s within a swords-length of the thing it starts glowing again, and both boys find themselves staring first at it and then each other.
He says the first thing that comes to mind. “It likes you.”
The expression that creases the features of the other hero is beyond words, but the best Wild can muster is that it’s something between confused, repulsed, and flabbergasted, like he’s not sure or not if he should be offended by apparently being played favorites with by a rock of all things.
“You should say thank you.”
“It’s a rock,” the vet blinks, “it probably doesn’t have feelings.”
“Probably?”
“My life is weird,” is Legend’s only answer, stepping closer again and watching as the thing glows faintly brighter. “So is this though.”
“I’m a little more interested in the idea of rocks with feelings at the moment. Is it all of them or just some?”
Violet eyes turn to him, flat, brows raised. “Wild, please.”
There’s an extreme lack of height, or impressive abs, or long hair, but the vet’s tone and expression remind him of a very pissed Urbosa, and that’s enough to get him to apologize, stepping back with both hands raised, lantern still held firmly because he doesn’t dare find out what happens if he breaks their vet’s tools. “Got it.”
Like nothing happened, violet turn again on the odd stone, that flat look replaced with curiosity as the vet leans a bit closer, then starts and pulls back very quickly, enough so he nearly trips.
“What’s wrong?”
There’s a moment of no words, a blinking and staring and frowning, and then Legend’s leaning close again, one hand reaching for the thing. “Well, apparently it likes my magic.”
“But not mine.”
“Apparently.”
“I mean,” he shrugs, “they are very different.”
He expects nothing in answer to that, maybe some short cut off thing at best, but instead Legend actually looks at him, frowning. “Wait, you’ve noticed?”
“Yes? I mean, I’m no great mage like you or Hyrule, so I can’t catch much of it, but it feels-”
“I’m going to stop you there,” the vet straightens, one hand raised as though to physically stop him where he stands, despite the fact that he is, in fact, not moving, nor does he intend to. “First of all, I’m no great mage. Second, the fact you can sense my magic at all is actually really weird.”
“Why?”
“Because I barely have any,” it’s a huff. “I have items to compensate for that, but they only do so much.”
“But you-”
“Back in the day,” he says, sounding very much like Time for that sentence alone, “I was pretty good with it, but not so much now. Lost my touch somewhere down the line and my magic with it. You sensing it,” and the gaze of his brother is piercing, now turned on him with that same curiosity as had just been fixed on the weird stone, “that would mean you’ve probably got a good portion of untapped magic yourself, if not just a good sense for magic.”
“Oh.” He’s… not sure what to do with that? He’s no mage, and definitely not much of a knight either any more. Magic is.. Not his area, nor really all that great of an interest. It always seemed to be something he’d associate with Legend, as, like the others had mentioned, all his tools and items do sell the idea of a well-trained or otherwise well informed magic user. Yet, Legend says he lost his magic.. Somehow. Would it be like how Zelda lost touch with hers when the Calamity was sealed? Did he overuse it, or did it just… disappear one day? “So….” he really shouldn’t ask, “you’re, what, magically disabled?”
His answer is a frown, and silence for a moment where Legend seems to think on that for all of a second before visibly dismissing the thought with a hand-wave. “Doesn’t matter.”
It sort of does.
“I still can use it, it just… takes a lot. This thing though-” and rather than finish his sentence, Legend just- lays his hand on the stone.
Immediately, there’s a shifting and creaking of something, somewhere in the room, and the ringed hand slips free grappling for a blade just as Wild moves to do the same, switching the vet’s lamp to his non-dominant hand in order to do so. No monster appears though. There’s a terrible sound of stone on stone and some sort of mechanical workings groaning at being stirred after so long a slumber, but then, just as soon as it started, it falls still again, silent like nothing had happened at all.
Blue and violet find each other from either side of the jewel, and all he can manage is a brief laugh and a “maybe that was the exit?” It sounds doubtful even to him.
“We’ll see,” and without further ado, the slate is scooped up again from the ground, feathered boots moving off towards the source of the sounds from before even as Wild scrambles to follow after, desperately hoping this goes better than the last dungeon they’d been through at least.