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The Legend of Zelda and all related media are property of Nintendo.




“So, it all comes down to you,” Legend said one night while tending the fire.


“Don’t say it like that!” Twilight growled.


“Easy,” Time said calmly. He then turned to fully face Legend, “He has a point. I am the last commonality between the rest of you.” He punctuated the sentence by pointing to Wind, Twilight, Legend, Warrior, and Hyrule.


“Yeah but,” Hyrule fidgeted in place, “You…uh…”


“You died in our timeline,” Legend softly, if bluntly, finished.


Gasps ringed all around. Time merely grunted, “I see.”


“‘I see’? ‘I see?!’” Twilight incredulously shouted. “Didn’t you hear him? You died!”


Time hummed, looking down at his chest and poking his legs, “…I don’t appear to be a Poe.”


Everyone jerked back, baffled by his calm veneer. “Um…are you okay?” Sky asked hesitantly.


The eldest Hero rolled his eyes, “My point is, I’m not dead.”


“But…uh…” Wind trailed off, struggling to put his thoughts to words.


Time cut him off with a shrug, “Time is fickle. And surprisingly malleable.” Legend, surprisingly, nodded in agreement at that. “Besides, I’ve got enough on my plate as is. I don’t need to worry about a version of me dying somewhere along the way.”


He turned to Legend and Hyrule, though, and his voice wavered a touch as he said, “However, I am…sorry, that I failed you and your people.”


Hyrule and Legend both flushed, highly uncomfortable with the situation at hand. “Don’t worry about it,” Legend eventually said. “Like you said, time’s fickle. Who knows why…whatever happened, happened.”


“You’re here now anyway,” Hyrule spoke up, “And I’m glad to have met you.”


“Likewise,” Time said with a smile. Silence reigned soon after, leaving an awkward atmosphere, even if the subject of the awkwardness was indifferent to it all.


“I’ve heard of all of you, you know,” Wild added softly, in an effort to ease the tension. Upon being met with incredulous accusations, he showed off pictures of replicas of their equipment. Along with passages his Zelda had asked him to take for replication. “I honestly thought we all shared a single history…there’s nothing in my Hyrule’s history to suggest multiple timelines.”


Time lazily waved his hand, “That just means someone got tired of the mess and merged the timelines into one.”


“Who the hell could do that?” Twilight asked grumpily.


“I can think of one or two people,” Warrior said contemplatively.


“How does that even work?” Twilight wondered aloud.


“Do you think that’s why we’re here?” Everyone turned their attention to Wind. “I mean, do you think we’re here to help, er, bring everything together?”


“If so,” Four said with a scowl, “we’ve been spending an awful lot of time traipsing around doing nothing.” More than a few Heroes voiced their agreement.


“Now, now,” Time said, his smooth baritone rising above the din, “We may not have a clear goal, but we cannot let it distract us. Worrying over what may be will only hinder us. For now, let’s just continue what we’ve been doing.”


“Which is?” Legend snarked.


“Helping out where we can,” Time answered, ending the conversation. They started preparing for rest after that, Sky and Wind taking the first watch.


Sky, as usual, took the Master Sword out of its sheathe, whispering to the spirit within. It usually didn’t amount to much—her slumber was deep, even if she awoke every now and then—but it made him happy. Even if, now, Fi’s glow was a bit dimmer than usual.




Fi did not mean to ignore Master—Sky, as he’d designated himself. She normally loved listening to her first wielder—sometimes, his voice and affection gave her the strength to answer back.


But she was absorbed by her Masters’ prior questions. One question in particular. How did Master—Time—die in such a way that necessitated three separate timelines? A question she knew the answer to. A problem she was the cause of.




“Link, isn’t that?”


Fi, already beginning to wake from her slumber, figuratively snapped her eyes open upon hearing the name of her Master. Her ‘vision’ was still limited, but she could hear the tell-tale beat of fairy wings flitting around her.


The fairy gasped, “It’s that legendary blade,” she said in a bell-like voice, “the Master Sword.”


Fi’s heart soared as she heard echoing footsteps nearing her, her Master’s brilliant, brave, blinding soul inching ever nearer to her. She couldn’t help but wonder what evil plagued the lands now—what form Demise’s lingering hate had taken. But all such thoughts paled in comparison to the elation she felt at once more being in the hands of her Master.


And that’s precisely when things went wrong.


For one, as the footsteps grew closer, she could not help but notice that the stride was remarkably short. She knew that sometimes her Master was young when they were reunited; it always made her uneasy, but she could only trust in the will of the Goddesses.


And then he wrapped his hands around her hilt—his small, calloused hands—and she could see once more. And what she saw filled her with dread.


Her Master was a child. Not simply a very young man, a child (no older than nine, when considering his height and the amount of fat clinging to his body).  But what broke her were his eyes; she had very little contact with children, but from what she was able to gather, their eyes were typically warm, and their gazes drawn to anything and everything. But her Master’s eyes…they were cold. Filled with an amount of determination that would have been impressive in someone twice his age; and should never be known to one his age.


She wanted to stop him—to prevent him from accepting his destiny at this time. Forget her personal reasonings, the odds were too far against him; the Master Sword was almost as big as him, he didn’t have near enough muscle mass and coordination necessary to wield her against evil, and his still developing mind would be irrevocably traumatized by the horrors he would no doubt face, crippling his effectiveness.


He pulled her from the pedestal, and her worries were momentarily forgotten in the face of her sheer joy at being reunited with Master.


Heavenly blue light erupted around them, and Fi could feel the air shift and turn as divine magic whisked them away to another realm. Her Master gasped, and the fairy dove closer to his face, holding onto him as he whirled around, bewildered.


Fi wished she could speak to him, assure him that they were safe. But alas, she was too weak. Freshly woken from her slumber, she would be of no use beyond a weapon to slay monsters. A weapon her Master was too young, too small, to use.


“Geh geh geh!” Fi’s very core froze, and her Master whipped around, his heart-rate spiking to an all-time high.


Fi had no idea who this man was, but she recognized what he was; the latest incarnation of Demise’s damning Curse.


Her Master started to hyperventilate, and the fairy hovered protectively in front of him.


“I knew that you two brats had some little scheme in place. Glad I decided to follow you instead of her.”


Her Master gulped, stepping back as the Curse circled around him. “So…this is the Sacred Realm, hm? A lot blander than I was expecting.” It looked around, “And no Triforce in sight.” It sneered drawing its hands back, magic crackling along its fingers, “Well, might as well get rid of you, now that I have no use for you anymore.”


Master gasped, paling. But then, like he’d always done, Master steeled his nerves, glared at his opponent, and held her up high. The stance was awkward—again, he and the Master Sword were almost the same height—but she, at least, could balance herself so that he could comfortably hold her. The fairy flittered before him, no doubt to try and dissuade him (a foolish notion, for Fi knew her Master’s determination to do good outweighed any sense of self-preservation). But upon seeing his resolute face, she merely turned around, facing their opponent.


The Curse chuckled lowly, “Gutsy. I respect that,” it cracked its knuckles, “You still have to die, but at least you’ll die knowing that I respect you.”


Her Master grit his teeth but didn’t rise to the barb. He rarely did.


The fairy quickly vanished from sight, reappearing beside the Curse’s head. Fi wondered what good that would do—had Fairies gained offensive capabilities since her last slumber? But the Fairy merely hovered around the Curse for a moment, before returning to Master, and informing him of the Curse’s physical and magical capabilities (Fi found herself impressed, and a little jealous).


The Curse crouched down, forming an orb of magic in its right hand. With a grunt, it shot the orb of dark magic forward. Master hopped to the side, lowering her for a moment before reaching into his pouch and throwing a weapon—a boomerang, she realized.


The weapon missed—predictably—but the moment it took the Curse to dodge allowed Master to pull out a bomb, hurling the explosive at the Curse. The item itself didn’t do too much damage—some sort of magical defense, Fi suspected—but it did force to Curse to falter.


Master then sprinted forward, holding the Master Sword horizontally, and Fi could feel an external source of magic encroach her blade. It was coming from Master, she realized, an attack meant to bolster his offensive capabilities.


When Master got close to the Curse, it had recovered, and set its face into a sneer. But by then, Master retrieved another item from his pouch. A Deku Nut.


Quick as a flash, Master broke it before the Curse, the loud light and sound stunning it. Master then planted his feet, pushed a bit more of his magic into the magic surrounding her blade, and swung with a mighty shout.


He struck true, cutting through armor like butter and drawing a large, jagged gash across the Curse’s chest. The fairy started to praise Master, but Master was smart, more aware of the situation, and quickly backed away.


But not quick enough.


The Curse roared, letting loose a raw, unfocused blast of energy. Were Master taller—at least one-and-a-half times his current height—with the proportional muscle-mass, he might have been able to keep his footing. As it was, he was sent flying away, the Master Sword leaving his grasp.


The Curse panted heavily, staring disbelievingly as its blood flowed onto the floor. Then, he snapped his head towards Master—who writhed in pain, feebly pawing towards the downed fairy as magic energy coursed through his veins and kept him down—snarling wordlessly and stomping towards him.


In that moment, Fi knew one thing. Master was going to die. He was going to die, and she would be unable to save him.


He would die. Fate itself damned a child, her Master, to die, and there was nothing she could do about it.








No. No! This would not be his end! Master would live! No matter what Fate—or even the Goddesses decreed, she would not, could not, allow it to happen.


Thus, she focused. She focused on the very core of her being. At once, numbers and calculations danced through her conciousness—informing her of the odds of her succeeding at her task. She tossed them aside; such things would only serve as needless distraction.


She focused on what she wanted, what she needed. She focused on her Master, on his gasps, on the defiant look in his eyes. Even now, in a hopeless situation, her Master never gave up. Neither would she.


Then, she felt it. The Master Sword started to vibrate violently, magic coalescing along the blade.


The Curse took notice and turned accordingly.


Just in time to get kicked in the face by a dark blue heel connected to an armless spirit.


Fi let out a ragged gasp as she materialized once more in the mortal plane. She idly noted the Curse slid along the ground, leaving a bloody streak across the floor. But she had eyes only for Master.


He stared up at her in shock. And then—when her projected form started to glitch and warp—alarm.


“Worry not Master,” she said, willing her voice to stay strong, “My physical form is at seventy-two percent integrity. More than enough to attend to the current situation.” She floated closer to him, bowing, “Rest. I shall keep you safe.”


Master’s confusion lasted for a moment longer, before he smiled gratefully, slipping into unconsciousness.


Fi turned back around to face the Curse once more—briefly stopping to move the Fairy closer to Master. It stared at her, bewildered, before shaking its head, growling as it raised its hands over its head, magic crackling along its fingertips. Fi hummed softly, then soared forward, swinging her left leg upwards to further break its cracked jaw.


And then the world froze.


“Fi, what are you doing? A powerful feminine voice said.


“Hylia,” Fi whispered, moving her leg back and standing at attention.


“What are you doing, Fi?  Hylia’s voice echoed all around her.


Fi bowed, “I was performing my duties, my Lady.”


“Your duties?” Hylia repeated, “This is not a part of your duties.”


Fi could only answer honeslty. “I was created to assist and guide your chosen champion.”


“Correct. You were not meant to fight on his behalf.”




“Then why did you?”


Fi paused. Why? Did Hylia not subject herself to reincarnation for such understanding?




“I had to.” The spirit answered quickly. “Master…he is too young. Too inexperienced. He would have died.”




Fi’s breath caught in her throat. “What do you mean?”


“The current Hero was to die. Such is Fate’s decree. Our decree.”


Fi was shocked to a standstill. “…No,” she whispered.


“Hm? What wa—”


“No!” Fi shouted, cutting her off. “That is wrong. Fate is wrong! You are wrong! Children are not meant to die! They are meant to live and grow. Master is meant to live and grow!”


Hylia was silent after that. Then, she said, “Oh Fi…where did you go wrong?”


Before Fi could so much as blink, she was blasted by heavenly light, forcing her back into the Master Sword. The goddess’s presence then spread out, covering the entirety of the Sacred Realm.


Do you think I take pleasure in this?” the goddess said sorrowfully. “It was supposed to be quick. Simple. But now you’ve interfered. Now you’ve changed things.”


Fi was unable to answer the goddess directly, but she was able to force the Master Sword’s blade to glow brightly. Violently.


The goddess ignored her rage, however, saying, “And now, you need to be punished.” More divine energy blasted Fi, and she screamed as her soul was burned and battered and torn apart. “You must be made to witness the mess you’ve made.”


Hylia’s presence left, and Fi felt the world shift. Then, two sets of images burrowed their way into her head. In one, Master was forced into a deep sleep. In the other, he was once again knocked down by the Curse.  Only this time, she was unable force herself into a physical form. Unable to stop the Curse as it stood above Master. Unable stop the Curse from aiming an orb of dark magic at Master. Unable to look away as Master died.


She could do nothing but stare. Stare as he was blasted apart. Again and again and again and againandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandagainandaga—




“…and then Groose said, ‘Well what did you expect? Steak?’”


Fi returned to the present as Sky laughed at the retelling of the tale. For the better, really. It always hurt to remember that day and its consequences.


From that moment on, Fi was Cursed. Cursed with the simultaneous knowledge of two—and then three, due to what Fi could only hope was mortal folly, and not a ruel deity’s machinations—timelines.


But, eventually, something took pity on her (or perhaps grew bored of her). In one timeline—where at least this time Goddesses in charge had the excuse of ignorance for their cruelty—Wind cast a debilitating blow against the Curse, her magic fading as she and it turned to stone, easing her suffering as that part of her was split into the other two timelines.. In another, as blacksmiths broke her apart and re-forged her multiple times, the bonds of her prison weakened, and she was able to slip past her bonds and no longer be split across multiple timelines.


Thus, here she was. She was still weak, a shadow of her former self—perhaps even a shadow of a shadow, given what happened when she was held by Wild—but she was free, nominal as that freedom was. And now, now she was surrounded by different versions of her Master (if not for the dangers they faced on a regular basis, she’d think she was in heaven).


She didn’t know what the future would hold. Even with her extensive experience and knowledge, she was at a loss. But that didn’t matter. What did matter was Master. All of them. And she would keep them safe; no matter what, they would live.




A/N: I have, like, so many head cannons as to how the ‘Fallen’ Timeline emerged. Maybe I’ll write more of them down later. Anyway, be sure to leave a review. Later.