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The first time he bleeds, Link runs crying to his uncle, terrified. His uncle cleans him up and consoles him, assuring him it's perfectly natural and means he's becoming a woman. Nothing sounds natural about that in the slightest, least of all the concept of becoming a woman, but he won't find the words to express that until long after his uncle dies. By then, the bleeding had stopped.
It's a mercy, he thinks; one less thing to deal with on the run. Between being chased out of Kakariko and being hunted every waking moment by the Hyrulean knights, he's lost a lot of weight. He eats what he can find–usually discarded produce, but it never seems to be enough to keep going. Despite the extensive support of healing potions and fairies, adventuring takes its toll on his body.
He makes his wish on the Triforce, crawls his way home on throbbing joints, and finds that his uncle barely recognizes him anymore. Despite Link's sincere desire to see him, he finds it hard to adjust to living by other people's expectations again. They argue over his improper clothes, his abrasive behavior, the way he hides injuries like he doesn't trust his uncle to take care of him. Even when there's food to eat, he can't keep it down–the constant stress turns his stomach and makes him ill.
"You're too thin," his uncle gripes, anxious. "You need to eat."
Maybe I feel better this way, Link doesn't say. It's not really true–some nights he wishes he could claw his stomach out from the pain. But his condition comes with some benefits. People no longer give him weird looks when he introduces himself with a boy's name, his less masculine features hidden under a too-baggy tunic, and maybe that's worth it.
By the time the Triforce drags him across the sea on a new adventure, the hunger pangs no longer register. Even his sword feels too heavy for his unsteady hands, and it's harder to fight than it's ever been. However, Link has never relied on brute strength, and turns to his mind, instead. Magical weapons augment his strength, and rings numb the pain. With his ever-growing arsenal, Link can pick fights on his own terms, and he never picks fights he can't win.
He saves Holodrum, he saves Labrynna, and everyone hails him as a hero. Why, then, had Din and Nayru looked at him with such sadness in their eyes? Ralph promises him feast after feast, swearing to introduce him to the finest cooks in all of Labrynna, and frowns when Link turns him down. His stomach twists, and this time, he can't be sure if it's hunger or something else.
Link sails home. Link encounters a storm. He gets shipwrecked and then rescued shortly after by a passing fisherman. His rescuer watches him in confusion and concern as he turns down meal after meal, despite seemingly being stuck in the water for days without food.
Link never tells anyone what really happened. It had been a dream, yes, but Koholint was all too real for him. Meals there never made his stomach churn, and when he'd woken up, his belly had still been full. He thinks that's worse.
He returns home to an empty house, his uncle having passed while he was away. Link is very, very ill, but his cursed body just keeps going. Gully's mom, the blacksmith's wife, turns him into her personal project, bringing him food and cleaning the house while he rots in bed. When he finally feels capable of moving again, the blacksmith offers him an apprenticeship, but Link senses it's mostly out of pity.
"Eat, boy! You'll never make a decent blacksmith unless you put on some muscle!" he chides. Link puts on one of his many power bracelets and swings the hammer.
Inevitably, he finds adventure number five. Ravio makes for a strange housemate, worrying over him while he shakes him down for rupees in the same breath. Link senses that Ravio not only knows, but understands, and it's a harrowing thought. It doesn't stop the other boy from constantly trying to feed him like the others, though.
(It hurts, but Link tries a little harder. Just for him.)
In the end, he returns once again to an empty house. He's tired, so tired, and he can't go through the process of grieving again. His body can't take it anymore. He turns on his heel, walks out the door, and takes a vacation.
Cue adventure number six.
Hytopia is… different from Hyrule. The utterly insane quest he finds himself roped into alongside two other unsuspecting passerby is probably the least interesting thing he discovers. The first time he sees a man wearing a dress, he gawks openly, and is promptly scolded for not appreciating the careful tailoring necessary to achieve such an elegant drape on the chiffon.
Here, it matters not what you wear so much as whether or not it's something worth wearing, as Madame Couture beats into his skull. She scoffs at his tunic the first time he enters her shop and demands to enhance it on the spot. Link, never one to turn down a potentially useful item, agrees, but after, when he looks at himself in the mirror, he can't help but wince.
"Why are the seams so… bulky?" he asks, careful with his wording to avoid drawing her wrath again. The question he really wants to ask is "why did you take it in so much?", but the answer to that is a little obvious. It actually fits him, now; he's just not happy about that.
"You're a growing boy. You'll need the extra fabric so that you can let the seams out," she explains.
Link worries at the collar, bothered by the way the material clings to his shoulders and exposes their bony structure. He admits, it does look better. The A-line silhouette is both timeless and practical, and the aged textile of his red mail has been renewed with a delicate embroidery, a protection enchantment woven into the thread. Even still, he can't help but feel… exposed, like his frailty is on full display. Maybe he could let out the seams just a little bit–
"My pet," Madame Couture glares at him, as if reading his thoughts. "I am le finest tailor in the kingdom–no, the world! Ze fit is correct. And if I catch you roaming this kingdom in a potato sack again, I will–"
She begins ranting in a language Link doesn't understand, shaking her head. Her green-haired apprentice ushers him out with a grimace on his face. Legend never, ever questions her again.
With time, Legend relaxes. Gains an appreciation for haute couture, and even tries on a dress fit for a princess. The people of Hytopia never misgender him, not even once, and he wonders if there's something innate about him that others can recognize. Maybe, it's that they simply don't care at all. Whatever it is, it stings his eyes when he finally breaks the curse on Styla and has to return home.
Home, to that empty house. Home, where people look at him with pity and confusion. When he comes across the dark portal spitting out monsters that he doesn't recognize, he barely hesitates before jumping right in.
He lands on eight other guys, all sharing his name, all heroes. Despite his insecurities, he doesn't stick out in the slightest among the small-statured group of fighters. They nickname him 'Legend,' after a title no one has ever called him to his face, and welcome him into their odd facsimile of a family made up of mostly teenage boys.
Teenage boys, Legend learns, eat like horses.
Wild, their cook, makes pot after pot of stew, filling it with flavorful meats and hearty vegetables–the perfect meal for a group of adventurers on the road. Everyone always asks for seconds, and Legend wonders how any of them could have possibly survived during their own adventures if they really needed to eat this much. The rich broth sits in his stomach like a rock, and it's difficult to tolerate more than a few bites.
He's hardly the only one with an eating problem. Hyrule eats like someone's going to steal the bowl out of his hands, and regularly scarfs his food down so fast he makes himself sick. Twilight can't be convinced to eat a vegetable unless it's cleverly disguised, something which causes Wild no end of grief. Still, he's the one who gets the incisive looks whenever he passes off his leftovers for Hyrule to finish.
He tries to finish a meal, once. An hour later, he's throwing up behind a tree. Next meal time, when he goes up to Wild to get his food, the cook wordlessly passes him some plain broth. They won't talk about it out loud, but Legend appreciates it.
It's hardly much, compared to the others, but regular meals are still far more than he's used to getting on the road. He finds he has more energy, more patience–and, strangely, some of his old aches are beginning to fade. One night, while they rest at an inn, he lets out the seams on his red mail, and promises Madame Couture that he's not overdoing it this time.
The next morning, he wakes up, insides twisting in agony.
"Legend?" Hyrule, his roommate, prods, shaking his shoulder. Legend groans, cold sweat beading on the back of his neck as he curls up further under the sheets. His joints ache, and acid burns at the back of his throat. For a moment, he thinks he might have a normal illness, and then, something sticky squelches between his thighs.
Terror spikes in his chest. If he didn't feel like throwing up before, he certainly does now. He needs Hyrule to get away from him immediately so he can–do something. Anything. Fix this.
"'M fine," he says quickly, shoving his face into the pillow in an attempt to hide the sheer panic in his expression. The statement, of course, has the opposite effect; Hyrule narrows his eyes suspiciously.
"You're clearly sick," he says. "Wild might have something for–" Hyrule gasps. "Is that blood!?"
Fuck. Legend sits up in bed and scans the blanket. Right on the edge, there is a thin brown smudge, probably left sometime last night while Legend thoughtlessly stumbled into bed. No one else would have noticed it, but Hyrule always had a keen eye for detail, to Legend's chagrin.
"Legend, are you injured?" Hyrule asks, concerned.
"No," he answers. It's true, for once, but Hyrule isn't inclined to believe him.
"Just show it to me and I'll heal it. It's not a big deal," Hyrule scolds him. "If you cooperate, I promise I won't tell Time."
"There's nothing to show," Legend hisses. His head aches. He desperately doesn't want to be having this argument right now, but there is nothing he can do to convince Hyrule of that.
"If you won't show me, I'm going to get Warriors," Hyrule threatens.
No, goddesses, no. Warriors, as their field medic, is always on their case about not treating injuries in a timely manner. If he catches wind of this, Legend will never escape with his dignity intact. This day could not get any worse.
"Don't," he pleads, begging Hyrule to read the desperation in his eyes and just leave him alone.
"Then show me." Hyrule crosses his arms, impatient. Legend shakes his head. "Then I'm getting him. I'll be back."
Hyrule stomps out of the room, almost slamming the door in frustration. Legend throws back the blanket, rolls out of bed, and desperately rummages through his bag, searching for one of his fire rods or maybe his lantern. Maybe if he acts quickly, he can burn the evidence.
Legend's head spins as he takes in the murder scene that is the sheet. He can change clothes, no problem, but the blood has probably soaked well into the mattress. Is there supposed to be that much? It's been well over half a decade–he can't remember what the first ones were like, but this seems like too much.
Warriors's footsteps make their way up the stairs, and Legend suppresses the urge to vomit. His body aches, his stomach hurts, and he can't possibly hide this in time–
The door clicks open. Legend wraps the blanket over his blood-soaked legs and pointedly does not acknowledge Warriors when he enters.
"Oh goddesses," Hyrule breathes in horror when he sees the mess he's made of the bed. Legend winces. He probably should have kept the stain covered, but it's too late now.
"Legend," Warriors practically growls. Legend's been on the receiving end of his lectures more than once, and it's doing him no favors now. "Show me your injury. Now."
"Don't have one," Legend says, petulantly raising his chin. It's still true. Warriors glances down at the blanket bundled across his lap and frowns.
"If you won't cooperate, I'll find it myself," Warriors threatens. "And I'd really rather not, so please–"
"I said, I don't have one!" Legend snaps. "So leave!"
Warriors sighs and squeezes the bridge of his nose.
"Wars," Hyrule interrupts. "I'm worried it's infected." Warriors nods gravely.
"I'm sorry, Legend," he says, reaching for the blanket. Legend pales, shuffling away from him, but that only encourages him further.
"Stop!" Legend yells, hanging onto the blanket for dear life. His grip is quickly failing. He's not sure he would be able to put up much more of a fight even if he were healthy.
"This is for your own good," Warriors says, grimacing. The edge of Legend's bloodstained tunic peeks out, and his heart leaps into his throat. "I'm not about to just sit here while you–"
"I'm on my period, dumbass!" he finally shouts, recoiling in horror the moment the words leave his mouth. Warriors drops the blanket like it's on fire, mouth agape. Hyrule blinks, confused. Just to kick him while he's down, his traitorous body bursts into tears, the stress of the morning finally catching up to him.
"What's a period?" Hyrule asks, breaking what is perhaps the most awkward silence he has ever participated in.
"Hyrule," Warriors says slowly, carefully. "Why don't you step outside for a moment? I need to speak with Legend. Privately."
"Oh… okay." Hyrule glances nervously between the two of them, but acquiesces. The door clicks shut, and Warriors turns to him, mortified.
"I am so, so sorry!" he says. "Why didn't you just say that from the beginning?"
"What the fuck was I supposed to say?" Legend spits, gasping for breath between sobs. "Oh, just so you know, the hero of Legend's not really a hero at all, just some stupid, delusional girl–"
"Legend," Warriors cuts him off, kneeling next to him while he squeezes his shoulder. "I need you to breathe for me. Can you do that?"
Legend takes a deep breath and chokes on it. Warriors counts for him–inhale, two, three, four; hold, two, three, four; exhale–and eventually, his breathing evens out. The tension in his chest loosens, and the tears slow down, sluggishly sticking to his cheeks.
"I'm not mad," Warriors finally says. "Or disappointed, or–whatever it is you're thinking. I know plenty of women who crossdressed to join the army–"
"Not a woman," Legend croaks.
"Right. You're not a woman," Warriors nods in agreement. Legend stares at him, bewildered, but can't find the energy to question him further. "I just need to make sure you're alright. Can I ask you some questions?"
Legend nods slowly.
"That's a lot of blood." Warriors gestures to the bed. "Is that normal for you?"
"I don't know," Legend admits.
"You don't know?" Warriors repeats, confused. "Look, I know this is embarrassing, but I need you to be honest. I can get someone else if you would prefer–"
"No," Legend says. "I really don't know. I haven't–" He chokes on the admission. "haven't bled in years."
Warriors's eyes widen. "Years?"
"It went away during my first adventure," Legend says. "I forgot about it, honestly."
"Your first–?" Warriors stutters. "Goddesses, Vet, that's–" He nervously runs a hand through his hair. "I noticed you and Hyrule were skinny, but that's very, very bad."
"I was fine with it," Legend grumbles. Warriors ignores him.
"And you've been on–what did you say? Six adventures?" Warriors thinks out loud. "Yeesh, Ledge, do you ever take a vacation?"
"Once," Legend deadpans. "That was adventure six."
Warriors stares at him, alarmed. After a moment, he sighs, slumping.
"Okay, focus…" he tells himself, then turns back to Legend. "Okay. You said you haven't had one in a while, right? So, you don't have any… y'know?"
"No…" Legend mumbles. Oh, to be over-prepared for every situation except the one he finds himself in. Story of his life.
"Alright. That I can fix," Warriors nods resolutely. "I'm going to talk with the innkeeper, see if we can get you a tub so you can wash up… I'm sure you don't feel very good right now, so I'll ask Wild if he has any elixirs–"
"Please don't tell him," Legend says quickly, squeezing the thin blanket in his grip.
"I won't say anything," Warriors says. "I'll just tell them you're sick and you need rest."
"If anyone else finds out, I'm pouring hair dye into your shampoo," Legend threatens. "Green hair dye."
Warriors chuckles, happy to see him back to his usual self. "I'll hold you to it," he says, then stands to leave. "I'll be back soon. Think of anything else you might need, alright?"
The door clicks shut, and Legend slumps back against the bed with an exhausted sigh. Closing his eyes, he takes a moment to just breathe, listening to the muffled whispers of Warriors and Hyrule's conversation through the walls. He still aches, but his heart no longer pounds in his chest, and he decides going back to bed as soon as possible might be a good idea.
He reaches for his bag, hunting for his spare clothes, and his eyes catch the thin skin of his wrist. The knobby bones protrude, crooked where they'd healed poorly, but they're less prominent than they used to be. A layer of fat conceals sharp edges, and the beginnings of what might be muscle is building around his forearm.
It's going to be harder to conceal things if they continue this way, he thinks. But…
Maybe he doesn't need to.
"Legend," Hyrule whispers in his ear one early morning, shaking him awake. "Legend!"
"Wh'zzit?" Legend groans, rubbing his eyes. The sky has barely begun to lighten–it's way too early for a casual conversation. But if there had been an attack on the camp, he wouldn't be whispering.
"Do you remember that time in the inn?" Hyrule asks. Legend stares at him, groggy. "You had that problem–Uh, I forget what it's called…"
Legend frowns. "I do not want to talk about this," he says simply, curling back up in his bedroll. "Especially not at ass'o'clock in the morning."
"No, I don't mean–!" Hyrule waves his hands in a panic. "I just–! How did you, uh…"
"Din's sake, just spit it out," Legend groans.
"...make it stop?" Hyrule finally asks. Legend sits up in bed, ramrod straight, and stares at Hyrule in shock, now fully awake. The other boy looks absolutely mortified, wearing a different pair of pants than the one he'd gone to bed in.
Legend immediately decides he will not be having this conversation alone. Thankfully, Warriors's bedroll is right next to his. Legend kicks him in the shin, startling the man awake with an irritated groan.
"Good morning, doc," Legend greets the bleary Warriors. "You've got a medical explanation to give."