Chapter Text
The battle had been a choreographed dance of destruction. The Fierce Deity swung their greatsword across the field, the helix blades dwindling the hordes effortlessly. They heard their vessel’s thoughts in their mind. Although they were but a handful of repeated sounds, there were changes they picked up on. They gently nodded, heeding the young boy’s directions. The swift air hit their face as they turned towards another horde behind them. Heavy footsteps from their boots alerted the leader, however within moments, their blade had cut through it and the entire lot.
A chorus of greens danced in a celebratory wind, sending their gentle glow into the ether. The deity stood above the slain mobs, as what now remained on the field were dried splatters of carmine and the fallen bodies of the army. Deterring their gaze towards the rustling trees, each branch and leaf looked as if they were ignited by the dwindling sunlight. They must have not noticed the time swiftly moving alongside their blade, indicating that the evening would come in a few moments.
“We’re heading back, we’ve done all we can here.”
In the chilly early evening air resounded the voice of the captain, and the deity turned towards the Hylian. They felt the tension and heard the intensity in his tone. There's a great deal of emotion behind the words he was speaking. The deity nodded, slinging their greatsword onto their back. Gently, they slipped off their mask, disappearing in gentle glows akin to the golden sunset behind them. As now a wooden mask, they were then carefully hung on Mask’s hip, who had then scurried towards the captain.
After calling for the young boy, Link glanced back towards the battlefield. The gore told a story of terror, of souls that had needed rescue yet suffered to their demise feeling sick, cold, and alone. His rosy glow, his beating heart, the strength in every limb; He was thankful that those parts of him remained to be nurtured with his blood. However, he was unable to break his stare at the splattered blood under the sprawled bodies. They were all missing that soul-spark that made it alive, yet, once it had been. It was all of a sudden a distant memory of laughter, love, and high spirit.
Link could only guess what each fallen soldier would be remembered for, aside from participating in the war and protecting their fellowmen until their last breath. Sighing in defeat, he lifted his gaze to where the camp resided. He mentally assured himself that camp remained protected. Even with that in mind, however, the inclusion of the Fierce Deity in the current expedition had worried him. The trail to camp was becoming more exposed as the days went on.
He felt a tug on his long scarf, gentle and reassuring. He let out a breath of relief, managing to pull away from the slew of corpses and to focus his attention on his friend. He expected to see the deity beside him, but to his surprise, it was Mask. He stopped himself from asking Mask’s state, whose sapphire eyes drooped in exhaustion. The young boy stifled a yawn before looking up at the captain. Link noticed Mask’s focus drifting, his hand fumbling on his scarf.
Silence hovered over the battlefield, slowly becoming the graveyard for the unburied comrades that lay scattered among the colorful flora. The sunlight through the grey clouds highlighted the splattered crimson, and the wind blew through the grass and spread the scent of rotting flesh. Link had a feeling that somewhere, the families’ patience of those comrades was nothing more but in vain.
Moments ago all of them were merely sparring in the courtyard, and further back, they were once boys who played in the fields and laughed at each other’s tales. Now, only blank eyes stared back at Link, their limbs laying immobile as they looked down at the birds piercing their beaks into meaty midsections. He gently dispersed the birds with a wave of his own polished sword. Though the soldiers' souls had long departed to the celestial planes to walk with their ancestors.
The current battle was lost and at the moment, the enemy had won. The soldier trudged forward and the young boy followed him to a camp a mile away to plan on further action. War was always ever so problematic.
It was a rough evening. Nothing but exhaustion and stress piling on Link’s body and mind. With a glance behind his back, he would not have said the same for Mask, the young boy clothed in green that trailed with no pause in his step. It was odd that they came across each other in the middle of a battlefield rather than the camp that evening. However, as the moon began to rise from the mountains to reach the peak of the sky, they both silently agreed that heading back would be their main priority.
'The attacks are becoming more frequent,' Link thought. He turned his gaze towards the ground, avoiding the passing trees but watching the scattered bodies slowly move by him. 'If it keeps up, we're going to be open to ambushes. Much more exposed to the enemy than the other camps, which isn't ideal.' He glanced behind him, catching a glimpse of Mask giving a tired smile. The young boy was holding up the wooden mask, moving it around as if he were showing them the abundance of trees.
The sight had made him bite his bottom lip, stopping himself from making the smile fade away. Link couldn’t say it was Mask's fault to be dragged into the war, one that even he could admit was too young to participate in. But from their multiple nights in each other’s company, Link could not deny that Mask and his friend made the experience somewhat tolerable.
His mind kept going as if it were on some endless, over-thinking, sprint. There were days the tiredness came in both forms, physical and mental. His body needed to rest yet his mind needed it to move, to burn the anxiety right out. Without some way to release his thoughts, his mind would keep him up all night long. Without rest, his body would spiral into exhaustion. He decided without much further thought that he would use his energy for planning out their next move with Impa until his head was ready to enter the world of dreams.
The forest that lined their path back to camp was Mask's light and air, regardless of any version of Hyrule he came across. Even if there was no sign of his tribe of wood and leaf, nor the great tree whose roots hug the deep earth. Link's Hyrule was no exception, as it still was the deep brown earth that elevated each step of his stride with its ever-giving soul. It remained to be a place of ancient souls, of the creatures who dwelled with the sweet sounds of moving water and birds' melody.
Somehow, Mask thought of the forest more as a home than camp. He glanced down at the mask on his belt, fingers gently on their thin wooden rim. Perhaps one day, both himself and the deity would know why.
Mask looked up at Link, although his sapphire eyes laid on the soldier's flowing scarf. The scarf sat snug to Link's skin, soft and gentle, becoming a colorful flag in the evening winds. He reached out to grasp at its long flowing end, trying to grasp at its material the same way a feline would with a string. However, he quickly pulled himself away. He didn't want to leave themselves vulnerable on the way back with his mischief. The soldier in all his loving heart signed on as his protector despite having no obligation to do so. Mask then reminded himself that what Link sought to protect in others was what he sacrificed in himself.
So, Mask let himself admire the trail back instead, averting his mind to the trail ahead which provided serenity. Upon the forest pathway so woven with ancient tree roots came a light filtered by the bouquet of foliage above: softened, verdant, and freshly aromatic. He could say it was the very ether of his memories both as a child and his sparse time as an adult. Even as he aged, his pure child self sat safe and sound in the boughs of the trees. He admired that he and Link's feet walked steadily on the pine needle carpet that became the comforting blanket to the ground. At the moment, he and Link felt their spirits weave themselves into nature as if for the time they were one with the place and all the life that was present. As if war was not their current place.
When they arrived at camp, all the eyes of the other comrades pulled away from their meals to stare towards them. However, a swift scan from Link’s stern yet defeated stare, they had all returned to eating their meals. Impa was at the center of those eating their meals, tossing sticks and wood to continue the blaze of the bonfire. The wood for the fire came from the floor of the woodland, clearing it for new growth, helping the mature trees to thrive. It lit up the night, reliably warming hands and faces. It sent glorious sparks into the starry black, tumbling upward as if their destiny called. Upon it, some comrades threw potatoes wrapped in tin foil to eat later with baked beans.
Link glanced down at Mask, who nodded and left to find themselves a table for their own. Since the young boy was clothed in bright green like he was, Link didn’t worry about searching for him. The soldier then walked up towards Impa, preparing his words to inform her about the defeat. The bonfire at the center of the tables brought such golden light, a bonny echo to the stars. From what he could see, it was enough to provide gentle lighting as everyone brought to their tables the served dinner. The fire came to warm air that was more accustomed to the evening chill. It lit their faces and they felt the heat go to their core. The bonfire was a flower of flame that opened heavenward, generous in golden sparks.
Impa heard his boots hitting the dry ground. She turned towards the approaching Link, making him stop in his tracks. He opened his mouth to report about his campaign, but she raised his hand before he could speak a word. “Not here,” she stated, her gaze turning towards Mask who sat at a far table. Mask’s gaze met hers, and she tilted her head towards her tent. The young boy quickly grabbed his companion’s mask from the table and instantly circled into her tent. She then led Link into it as well. The question of why the young boy took the longer route was merely pushed to the back of her mind.
Mask placed the Fierce Deity’s mask on the provided table at the tent’s center, his body blocking the opening where the sight to the bonfire was clear. He traced his fingers on the mask’s markings, gently telling in a quiet voice that they were far from it, far from the flames that roared. It was still surprising to know the deity had greatly disliked the bright fire. Fortunately, Mask had let the knowledge dwell only with himself, at the deepest back of his mind.
He heaved a sigh, muscles finally softening. He didn’t expect to be invited into the Hyrulean Captain’s tent, but he was certain it was much preferred over the outside where the noise was almost intolerable. Plus, it was a cold evening. It gave himself ever more reason to draw closer to people he trusted, to feel the natural warmth that other Hyruleans like him were able to give. He dearly loved his fellow Kokiri, who had been nothing but loving and caring for him with only a few exceptions. Though, he had always wondered what would have happened if he grew up as a Hylian instead.
Through their still position, the Fierce Deity could hear the captain and the soldier in the distance, speaking of their current defeat with conviction that their next battle would be a victory, yet with a loss that would be arduous to recover from. The deity tuned the two Hylians’ voices out.
The deity watched as Mask stood so still in thought. They could only think that his sapphire eyes were imagining an owl in flight. The beating wings captured in his mind were the most calming of sounds, the same way the soft patter of raindrops on the ground did. They admired the love Mask had with nature, with life itself, and they could only vow to protect that love the young boy had.
Mask glanced at the mask on the table, before his gaze instantly met the tray of food Link brought for themselves. The aroma was pleasant enough, and Mask could imagine the flavor was equal to it. The sight of the food was a gentle massage for both his own and for Link’s souls.
Something else accompanied Link’s thoughts, from what the deity inferred from his still and stern azure eyes. He mumbled questions that he knew well the answers would not be provided, one of which being, “Why send even the youngest of boys I have seen into war?” Link glanced towards Mask, but quickly pulled himself with a shake of his head. He conjured up a half-thought out answer that a powerful enemy had threatened homes, well-being, and culture so, perhaps, the young boy’s presence was no mistake.
Link took a spoonful of his dinner, humming in delight. Eating was a moment of calm in the war, and he hoped to savor it as much as he could. He was lucky to have a square meal such as now, as opposed to a small supper every other night. He took another spoonful and savored the simple flavors. It was his simple way to nurture himself, to show his body that it was worth the effort of good nutrition.
Abruptly, a man stumbled into the tent. Mask instinctively reached for the Fierce Deity’s mask and hid them under the table. Link meanwhile had immediately stood up, approaching the soldier and sternly asking what made him waltz into the tent unannounced.