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puddlestories · 26 days ago

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What are Traditions? Part 1

Shadow x GN/ Male Reader (no gendered pronouns or descriptions); written with a male reader in mind, has a section dedicated to a male reader later on, not featured in this part.

Idea: Shadow is quite different from his Hylian counterpart, whilst they were both raised in the same image and now both live together and share experiences as adults, Shadow will have always been raised differently and held to different standards in the Dark World.

CW: slight canon divergence for Vaati's lore and the manga, mentions of violence but no graphic descriptions, romance and misunderstandings but proper communication, no bad ending (in later parts).

7.5k words; not proof-read.

He was not born, he was summoned.

A pulse of dark magic shimmered across the glossy glass surface, warping the air around it in wavering ripples, followed by a whisper, not of a voice but of will, curling through the silence of the Palace of Winds- it hummed through the crackling stones and up through the ancient halls, where wind never rested, and Vaati stood tall.

Despite his overwhelming confidence, practically flowing from within and colouring the ripples in the air, the mage’s hands trembled- unusual for him- he had done this before, created monsters, controlled power, and wielded storms like thread in a loom; yet, this was different.

"Just a shadow," Vaati murmured into the empty stone circle, only decorated and filled by a lone, looming mirror, his voice echoed, fragmented by the swirling magic, "a tool; nothing more."

The dark mirror pulsed again, the glass melting into a pool of magic, more violently this time, a sharp crackle echoing from within, and from its depths, something reached back: a shape, a form…

…a boy.

Hair as dark as obsidian dripping low against his chest, eyes gleaming like rough, unpolished garnets, their gaze as sharp as freshly cut edges blood stemming at his fingertips, claws curled and blackened with a glossy shine. Out from the darkness emerged a body shaped like a hero’s, though it was twisted in its appearance, elongated, too sharp at the edges, skin dark and dripping in excess magic- his eyes focused first, pupils slit and light penetrating the darkness beyond.

He gasped, not as though breathing for the first time, but like being dragged into existence from something deeper- he knew pain before he knew self.

Yet with the birth of his new creation, what should have remained a stoic expression, a retention of power morphed with the crackling of shadows and malformed bones, what should have been bones if the spell went right, Vaati looked afraid.

Just for a moment.

"Shadow," he said, voice unwavering, the air falling still, instead settled into a heavy static clawing at his throat, hissing through his windpipe.

The name was not chosen; it was simply what he was.

Vaati turned, robes trailing like smoke, and said no more.

Shadow remained kneeling before the mirror, blinking slowly, the only sound in the Palace of Winds was the howl of air through the endless, empty halls, and the sound of his mimicked heartbeat, echoing where a true soul ought to be.

The Palace of Winds was never warm.

Even in the beginning, before the whispers, before the cap took Vaati entirely, there was something stale in the air, a silence stretched too thin- it was meant to be a place of solitude, a temple above the clouds, a retreat from the world.

It had become a cage. There was no warmth from plush carpets, protective glass windows nor blankets on beds or chairs. There wasn’t any warmth from the touch of another, the cradling hand of gentleness, of love nor mercy, but there was the burning sting of punishment.

Shadow remembered the first time Vaati had smiled at him- a rare thing, awkward and faint like it wasn’t allowed to be there, not that he was simply unable.

“You did well,” the mage had said, eyes shining with pride, though face remaining mostly still, a small, almost miniscule smile ghosting a finger at the corner of his lips. Shadow had broken a training dummy clean in half, his hands were bloodied, knuckles torn. He had grinned, hungry for more.

Praise was rare; it was worth pain.

Back then, Vaati still called him by name- what he identified as his name, given to him in a passing interaction but still holding meaning to the one who was once dismissed- still spoke to him like a person. Sometimes, back then, he’d explain things: about Hylians, about the Minish, about the magical theory behind the spells he used to hurl lightning through the sky.

Shadow had been slumped over a book, one of the only ones he’d been allowed, one of importance they’d claimed, head half-buried in crossed arms, the sleeves of his tunic pulled taut to reach his wrists, clumped between trembling fingers, the edges frayed from sharp teeth and fiddling claws. The candle beside him had long since burned down to a stub, the wick fighting on its last legs, wax crawling over the edge in silent screams. Spidery scrawl marked the pages beneath his fingers, tracing the arcane glyphs that Vaati had insisted he learn, again, and again. To know how to advance one must know the basics and fundamentals of both magic and the process in with said magic or projection methods were discovered or created- he could practically recite the lecture, at least half until he’d disassociate and count the marble tiles on the nicer floors, the stone walls in the more dilapidated areas.

Towards the entrance of the endlessly winding staircase, the door creaked open not accompanied by the sound of footsteps, the only warning of the arriving presence being the slight rust of the doors upper hinge, something not significant enough to fix, yet small enough to complain over. It was annoying, a harsh squeal, yet a disguised blessing, a warning.

“Sleep is not a weakness,” came Vaati’s voice, neutral and precise, as if he were observing a flaw in a mirror. Whether Shadow was a smudge on the glass, easy to wipe away and polish, or a small graze within the glass, unable to be removed, only covered, that was something he didn’t know, either way, he tried glisten as bright he could, a distraction.

Shadow jerked up, blinking furiously, voice slightly hoarse from both misuse and exhaustion, the dry gravel strong, rattling against his vocal cords, “I wasn’t asleep, I wasn’t,” he stopped, slightly stuttering and repeating himself, brain moving too slow to form a net of lies to catch his fast plummet. The lie hung there, weightless and obvious.

Vaati remained silent, a simple hum leaving his throat, and then his eyes drifted to the open book, eyes lifting back to Shadow for a moment before resting back within the aged pages, “you mistranslated the fourth abjuration, again.”

Shadow scowled, immediately defensive, cranky like a child disrupted from their nap, Vaati ignored that mental comparison, and shoved the thick leather bind aside, the pages uneven and warped, crinkling together and flattening again under the cover’s weight. His voice hissed out but lacked the needed energy to be truly aggressive, instead curling into a defensive growl “sorry I’m not perfect,” he spat, his fangs catching his lower lip in his expressive lurch, lips popping with venom.

“I never asked you to be.”

Shadow laughed, short and bitter at the short reply, the lack of hesitation; through puffed breaths he retaliated, all energy seeped from his words and body, slumping forward “no, just better. Stronger. Smarter. To be in control.” His eyes locked onto Vaati, narrowing into sharp almonds, his painted eyeliner elongating his shadowed glare, brow crinkling in frustration with each word.

Vaati’s face didn’t change, not in a conscious way but he could never hide the slight crowing claws at the corners of his eyes, he stepped into the room, slow, deliberate, each motion like it had been decided hours ago. He couldn’t say it out loud, but he was trying, trying to be the figures portrayed in stories, the man he was expected to become back in the village, he was just unfortunately failing in a way he had no idea how to fix, especially when he had no one himself, no guidance- it was better this way, safer to keep his distance, not for his own sake.

He picked up the book with care, flipping to the marked page. “When I was your age,” he started, taking a pause to mentally rehearse his wording, he didn’t want to mess this up again, quietly he continued, “I had no teacher, no guide. Only hunger and expectation,” he was a terrible liar, luckily Shadow knew no different, he was still young, dependant on his elders.

Shadow looked at him sideways, unmoving from the table but peaked in interest, eye straining to roll to such an angle; he pressed on like an eager child- Vaati really didn’t like how much of a child he saw within him- Shadow whispering, trying to retain his excitement of discussing a secret, “you mean from the Minish?”

Vaati didn’t answer, he didn’t need to- he didn’t feel like he was too good at this, he never was. He had been under the care of Ezlo previously but even he wasn’t the best at showing his emotions, the inner curse of men and rejecting emotions was strong within their circle but not their village as a whole, simply an inner issue.

Shadow looked down at the treated wood of the table, picking simultaneously again at his fraying sleeve and the edge of the wood, tiny dustings falling to the floor. His voice was small now, no hostility nor excitement though still interested, aware of the unseen fog around them, the tension thick with sadness, grief and another unknown feeling he couldn’t relate to nor identify, “do you ever think maybe they were wrong about you?”

Vaati turned the page, eyes unfocused from the words and symbols below. “I think they were right,” he stated, curling the upper corner of the paper, thin and worn, “in all the worst ways.”

The silence that followed wasn’t sharp, it was heavy, shared.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be,” Shadow said finally, still quiet “everyone says I’m just a copy, a shadow, but you--” he stopped himself.

Vaati glanced at him, questioning, looking up between silver eyelashes, fingers still flexing and fiddling with the paper below his fingertips, a slight hope stabbing in his soul, “but I?”

“You made me more than that,” Shadow muttered, ashamed to admit it, mind twisting scenarios of possible repercussions, “you made me want to be more than that.”

Vaati closed the book.

For a moment, just a heartbeat, he reached out, as if to place a hand on Shadow’s shoulder, but he stopped himself short, letting his hand hover in the air before folding it behind his back again. His heart hurt, he couldn’t do this, he shouldn’t have done this, he knew deep within that this wouldn’t end well for either of them, this situation and many others in the future, his denial was strong but he still knew it buried under many layers of golden thread, the spinning wheel running more through his nerves and veins every day- one day he wouldn’t be himself.

“You will always be more,” he said, voice straight and lips curled tightly, ensuring he was turned away from the boy across the table, “because you must.”

Shadow frowned, mind spinning- he learnt and identified so many feelings, whether within him or caught in the air of conflict, yet he was still pushed away and forced to confront everything himself with no explanation of the intruder within, “why, just to prove them wrong?”

“No,” Vaati said, voice as low as his eyes, edged with something sharp and old, a wound or wisdom, they both seemed the same. “Because proving them right would mean I failed, and I will not fail you.”

The candle finally gave out with a soft hiss, a thin line of smoke waving into the air above, quickly diffusing as it rose higher, lost to the wind, wax now frozen in dipping tears, plunging the room into the low glow of starlight from the distant sky.

Shadow looked up at him, something fragile, unexplainable, in his expression, “what if I don’t become what you expect?”

Vaati’s eyes flickered back to meet a matching red, for once, his voice fully lost its steadiness, no saving façade hidden under his now drooping robes.

Without hesitation, “then I will learn to expect differently.”

That broke something in Shadow, not enough to cry, he wouldn’t, but enough to look away, ashamed of the warmth that welled in his chest.

Vaati turned to leave. “Rest,” he said at the door, eyes laced with a small light, “tomorrow, we begin the real work.”

Shadow blinked, standing from the table and taking a step forward, confusion clear in his voice, “haven’t we been doing that already?”

Vaati paused, his silhouette framed by the moon peeking into the room, robes fluttering again, head turning towards the sky instead, light leeched into the darkness above. “Yes, but now… now you carry more than power- you carry legacy.”

And then, he was gone.

Shadow sat there long after, surrounded by rotting books and discarded research papers, by silence, by expectations he hadn’t asked for, and something almost like love, too big to fit into words, too fragile to touch.

However, slowly, that changed, and at first, Shadow didn’t know why.

The cap, gleaming violet, embroidered with a golden thread that shimmered like the stars that hung above the top of the Palace’s highest balcony, never left Vaati’s head. Shadow didn’t remember the day he first noticed the change, only the feeling: one day Vaati looked at him with curiosity, maybe, if he hoped hard enough, a small semblance of affection, the next with cold calculation.

“You were made to fight,” Vaati snapped one-night words hissing through clenched teeth, without any previous prompt, his attention simply snaping against a knife’s blade, after Shadow failed to strike down a phantom soldier during along, draining day of training, “stop hesitating, you are not weak.”

Shadow hadn’t spoken, he rarely did back then, even without proper confirmation of what had caused Vaati’s decline nor his change of attitude, he knew that he was teetering on the edge of an unseen cliff. Words only delayed power, delayed time, he tried harder. Training was power, he was already a disappointment to have to train, that he wasn’t perfect, despite the fact no one would have told him that no one was perfect; he had to bleed more, train longer.

He was strong, he had to be, and if he wasn’t, he would become it.

He didn’t understand then that Vaati was slipping, that the smiles were fading because the person who made them was vanishing alongside. The mage who once whispered of stars, wind, Minish and songs was being replaced by something colder, crueller.

Shadow didn’t know why Vaati stopped looking at him like a son, or even just simply with the delicacy and sympathy of a lost child, and started looking at him like a weapon, he just knew it hurt.

The Palace of Winds grew stranger as time passed. Doors led to different halls each morning, the sky outside the windows darkened even at midday; sometimes, Shadow would hear laughter from within the walls: thin, distant, like echoes from another world. Each day the haze grew stronger, the stones bending and melting away, small streams of water running through cracks and flora growing through channels from the outside, how they stayed alive he didn’t know.

When he was alone, he explored, not because he was allowed, but because he was bored, lonely and hungry for meaning.

He found old Minish carvings within abandoned lower levels of the palace, the spiralling staircases never ending, rooms upon rooms empty and abandoned, merely an illusion, a placeholder for those who dare enter; it was within these lower, though far from the ground, floors, half-buried in dust, stories etched in spirals across the stones. They told of joy, of gift-giving, of little creatures who placed rupees in grass just to see Hylians smile.

He didn’t understand any of it, especially why such stories would be within a place such as a palace of evil, nor why Vaati would have created such images- he had been told stories, but Vaati himself had never expanded on such themes, simply brushing pages of the past.

In the deepest rooms of the palace, where magic wavered and coiled into itself, where stairs merged into large leaps and small ladders, the stone in the walls blurring into blobs of grey, he found books- tomes holding no importance, written in an old script he barely understood, but the pictures were clear: Hylians dancing beneath the stars, lovers placing ribbons on each other’s wrists; knights bleeding for the ones they adored.

Softness. Loyalty. Love.

All nonsense.

Except, he kept reading, especially when, and where, no one was watching.

He never told Vaati, not after the first time he had been found reading something unrelated to magic, a simple curiosity harshly stomped upon.

“You’re wasting time,” the mage had said, no longer the man he once knew, simply a vessel for another’s influence, swiping the book from his hands and throwing it across the hall in a harsh swing, walking away as soon as the act was done, only looking over his shoulder with a final word, not enough time for such pathetic issues. “These stories are for fools. You want to know love? Power is love, victory is affection- let them worship you, not hold you.”

But Shadow remembered: he remembered the picture of the knight holding a flower to his beloved, he remembered the story of a brave hero who saved the world, not with a sword, but with mercy, though he hated how it seemed to be for a princess, not for the people in that one; he remembered wondering why no one had saved him.

And as time passed, in the darkest corner of the tower, Shadow sat beside the looming frame of the dark mirror, his tether to this world, to this palace, his shackle, and stared at his reflection. In a way, he lost himself too, unable to leave the palace, if only to venture to the Dark World under Vaati’s orders, or supposedly Ganon’s orders. He didn’t even know who Ganon was, simply a name stated to bring fear to those who went against orders, to keep subordinates in line. It was one of Ganon’s orders too that Shadow was to watch Link, to watch the dark mirror, every day he didn’t train from sunrise to sunset, every day that he wasn’t completing Vaati’s orders, every day he was to sit and watch the mirror, to learn, to observe, to form hatred.

He flexed his hand, his skin was real, his heartbeat, but he wasn’t born- he was created, formed from hatred, a reflection of another boy’s light.

He had never seen Link’s face in person, but he knew the shape of his laugh burning bright in the forge, the curve of his jaw in the patches of sunlight through thick tree canopies, the way his fingers flexed on the hilt of a blade during his squire years- because he had watched, through shadows- always through shadows.

“That’s the life I should’ve had,” he muttered, alone in the dark, he thought it once, and then twice, then a hundred thousand times more- the same statement whispered and hissed by those around him, he’d even hear the walls taunt him after long nights alone. Made to watch, again and again, the happy laughs, loving touches and vast experiences Link got to have, whilst Shadow sat there, in the dark, candles stumped with burnt wicks, cracked, cold stone floors and rotted away in a palace that held no life, only monsters and a greed for control, the tower itself crumbling and morphing within its own magic.

Shadow lived his life in reflections, though not that of his own, he had no interest in the twisted mockery that stared back at him from small pools of water dripped from marble pillars and through the stones above, or polished steel of training swords or those flashed, tips pointed straight towards him. Whilst he was forced into Vaati’s shadow, to follow orders and bend to his command, he was made to watch another, whispers of hatred and outside ideas he internalised as his own, no, he watched Link.

From behind castle and dungeon torches, in sword hilts in the knight’s training and quarters, in puddles of rain and darkened windows- wherever Link walked, Shadow followed, not by choice, not exactly. The dark magic that made him also bound him, to the mirror, to Vaati, to the Hero- his original.

He was his twin, not of the womb but of the soul’s glow and shadows it cast, his opposite, his curse, the man he could never be but would always be compared to, forced to hate, forced to watch- and his obsession.

So, he began with Vaati’s orders, though easily accompanied by Shadow’s own dramatic flair like the villains he’d seen in his books, he would confront his enemy, set fear into their hearts and begin their plan by creating a power imbalance, he’d take the shrine maidens and princess.

Moonlight spilt across the vast, empty throne room of Hyrule Castle, the silence wasn’t peace, it was the kind of silence that waits before thunder cracks open the sky, thick dark clouds already looming above, the sign that danger was precent, Shadow was here. Woven tapestries bearing the crest of the Royal Family hung long from the ceiling and pillars that lined the corridors, swaying slightly with a breathless wind that held no source. The princess and maidens would be within the chapel checking the seal which kept Vaati’s true power sealed, that compressed magic burning the air and lapping at his tongue even from here, far more susceptible to the crackle than others, having faced that very same blinding power before- it sickened him, but he pressed on.

And then it came. Pressed over and over into his head from his first breath that he must be strong, confident, intimidating, and successful, yet here he would fall all over again.

The sky turned black at midday, it was not a storm that darkened the heavens over Hyrule Castle, nor a passing eclipse, it was something older than Farore herself in power, something within the magic of the dirt itself, something deliberate. A silence fell before the chaos, deep and unnatural, as if the world held its breath, and then he came closer.

Shadow dropped from a wound in the sky like ink spilling across parchment, he landed in the castle’s inner sanctum without sound, his form still and watching, sword drawn but lowered. The sanctuary’s stained-glass windows cracked around him, spiderwebbing from a pulse that came not from the force of his entrance, but from his bleeding presence alone, hatred pouring from within.

With cracks of light piercing through the onset of darkness, the shrine maidens screamed as tendrils of living darkness spiralled through the closed inner room, binding them in place to the seal edge before they could react. The guards that had been stationed outside, supposedly the best in the realm, or at least he’d hope so considering their important job, it didn’t matter now, were swept aside by phantom blades they couldn’t see. It was surgical, clean and a lovely piece of drama like he’d wished, his own addition to this task that no one could take from him.

No longer hidden by the wavering light of maidens and the rituals fading light, at the centre of it all stood Princess Zelda, cloaked in her own divine light, defiant even as her magic flared in vain against the gloom.

Shadow stepped forward from the darkness, no natural light entered the room, there was no sound from anyone that was left, discarded, only a faint hiss from the pool before them.

With an annoying yell demanding his identity, another boy stepped forward in front of the princess dressed in a squire’s tunic and wielding a simple silver knight’s sword half drawn- Shadow truly did love some good irony, his grin grew wider, this would be easy, Link wasn’t ready for him, for anything.

A sharp hissing chuckle, shadows clinging to his form, only his piercing eyes and creeping smile defined, “I’m the hero… Link,” he giggled in glee, was he saying he was Link or simply addressing him? Even Shadow didn’t know, either way, he was technically correct, the life he should have had, yet the man he despised all the same.

“You are not him,” she said, staring at the figure shaped in her friend’s image, “you are not the hero.”

Shadow tilted his head slightly, like a curious child inspecting something he didn’t yet understand- the tone of her voice, the lack of a glare in her eyes, Link’s own expression.

“No,” he stated, stepping forward with confidence, feet practically ghosting across the floor, “I’m what he left behind.”

With a lurch forward he appeared before Link, practically blurred through the air, a stir of smoke. Link himself flung forward, sword drawn and fingers wrapping tight around the hilt, colour draining from his knuckles. But his sword passed straight through.

His eyes widened, fear glazing his pupils and skin a deep blue, Link was left to fall forward from the motion of his attack, Shadow progressed forward. With a lift of his hands, claws straight and poised, a flicker of glyphs spiralled around his fingers, and Zelda was caught in a binding of coiled darkness, Shadow’s arms wrapping tight around her ribs crushing her bodice and encasing her skirts in his fog, her light extinguished, her protests silenced, her light dimmed.

With another gust of wind, the seal fizzing and wheezing, Link froze, and looked again towards Shadow, his bloodlust cracking through his lips in a sharp grin.

He pushed himself from the floor, only to freeze at the sight of Zelda encased within a thin shell of black, “you’re me,” he stated, though more of a question, a defiance of words for his lack of action.

Shadow smiled, grin softening, it wasn’t cruel, it was quiet, almost sad. “I know,” he said, attempting to pull his cheeks into another grin, separating from Zelda leaving her suspended in the air, suffocating in her panic, “that’s why this is going to hurt.”

Their blades clashed.

Link fought like someone trying to catch up with fate- instinctive, raw, brave. Shadow moved like someone who’d seen this all before. Every strike Link made was anticipated, every motion mirrored, countered, parried- he knew Link’s stance, his hesitation, the exact rhythm of his breath, he’d seen it all before, all those days of training at the castle grounds, practicing behind his Grandfather’s forge wielding a sword marked for delivery, running off from his father to fight alone, to prove himself.

Shadow didn’t fight to kill.

He fought to prove something- the only reason he’d even allowed such a fight to occur, for Link to even raise a blade to him, not as though such a simple blade could hold any effect.

“You think they love you,” Shadow hissed, repeating the same words spoken to him over years of indoctrination, knocking Link backward with a burst of force that cracked the stones beneath their feet. “You think you matter, but they don’t love you- they love what you stand for.”

Link lunged, a desperate, spinning strike, but Shadow flowed around it, simply playing with him, zero fear and a terrible overwhelming confidence, catching him with the flat of his blade and sending him sprawling.

“Did anyone ask what I wanted?” Shadow continued, stepping forward, “did anyone wonder why I exist? I’m not your curse, Link, I’m your inheritance.”

Link’s shield came up just in time to block the next strike, but even then, Shadow didn’t aim for flesh, his blade left a black, smouldering mark across the centre of the Hylian crest, knocking him to his knees. Not a wound. A message.

“I won’t kill you,” Shadow taunted, his voice low, practically growling. “Not today, but I will make you see that we're not enemies, we're reflections,” his eyes narrowed, “and maybe that’s the same thing.”

Just as Zelda gasped through the last of her breath, just as the guards re-entered, shouting, blades raised, Shadow vanished. A rift of violet light swallowed him whole, along with Zelda and the last remains of the shrine maidens, leaving only wind and broken glass behind, the same wind which swept Link away, out the castle and to another area, the Four Swords Sanctuary.

Link remained kneeling in the sanctuary, sword in hand, the echo of his own voice, “you’re me” reverberating in his chest like a wound he hadn’t felt until now.

The same tearing feeling he felt again as he drew the blade of the Four Sword, having convinced himself to take an act of courage, that he could defeat the evil unleashed onto Hyrule, that Vaati must now be free. Though he still questioned, why Shadow, or was it Vaati, it couldn’t be, sent him there, to the sanctuary, to the key to their own defeat.

It was still the same now, little to no time passing, the colours having began their journey back to the castle as soon as they’d stopped arguing, gained their bearings and created a plan.

That same jagged rift in the air tore open once more, black mist pouring from it like blood from a wound, small thick clots bleeding onto the floor, darkness unstoppable, pouring too fast. Shadow Link emerged with the same silent fury that birthed him, a living echo, a distortion given form, his crimson eyes scanned the room, and he sneered.

He hated this place, its symmetry, its light, its memories- the dark cloud above continued to increase in size above the castle, blocking the sun as though an eclipse, Vaati’s seal had finally fully broken, the cracks spreading.

Last time he stood here, Link was whole, predictable, mortal. Easily defeated, swept away with a swift wind and flurry of darkness, maidens swept away with a single dramatic snap of his fingers; the pressure only slightly lightening from his shackles, the slightest reassurance of his skill, that he didn’t have to fear his return to the palace.

Though there he stood, back in the throne room rather than the chapel, having no need to be there, he didn’t want to be in Vaati’s lingering presence for any longer than needed, having to soon return to the palace. He wished to enjoy his temporary freedom, to relish in his control over the castle, to accept the silence he’d befallen over the courtroom.

The castle trembled as the second wave of darkness fell heavy against the windows, the glass creaking with a splintering shriek of stepping upon shattering ice, the glass remained in place, the last of the Hylians which once resided within the walls having finally fled.

The sun wavered like a candle caught in breath, thrown from the sky, blocked by spiralling darkness, the wind howling through the corridors like it was trying to flee.

In the throne room, Shadow stood alone, the weight of Vaati’s will behind him, but none of his master’s presence. This time, Shadow acted with intent, this time, the attack was fully his own design.

The shrine maidens were still trapped, suspended in frozen glyphs of crystal. Zelda stood at the altar in the palace searching for an escape, far from the castle, weak from her bindings, yet still trying to channel protective wards. It was working, barely, Shadow still having a clear view of her from the shadows, his magic strong in his own territory.

Shadow watched her with unreadable eyes, he was still, collected, like stone that remembered rain.

The doors burst open again.

But now there were four. He’d, they’d come back to the castle, though he expected as such, after all he’d been watching them for long enough, he wouldn’t stop now, they wouldn’t give up. They’d already lost Zelda, and already freed Vaati, destroying the last of his seal, the last precaution meant to contain him at the sanctuary.

They spilled into the room with a flurry of colour and noise, fighting against the armour husks he’d left around the castle: Red’s rallying cry, Blue’s defiant roar, Green’s silence sharp with focus, feet stomping with anger, and Violet’s watchful, thinking eyes, a low growl in his throat, almost unheard. The four were as much Link as he had ever been, and yet to Shadow, they were something else entirely.

They were not the boy he remembered fighting.

They were fragments, crystalline, clean- a new slate he could never be, he hated them all the same.

Red, who fought with an obnoxious grin and warmth in his eyes that made Shadow's skin crawl, an emotional bundle with sparking nerves, unsure of what to do when he should have held confidence in his ability. Blue, reckless and violent to the blind eye, driven by rage that mirrored Shadow's own, but instead fuelled by protective instincts and a call of duty to himself and others. Vio, cold, calculating, dangerously perceptive, a very interesting man, one who hid his insecurities behind a wall of false confident, who acted first and thought later, yet could convince those around him otherwise. Green, the core, the centre of them all, unwavering and infuriatingly resilient, holding the pressure of being perfect upon his shoulders, stuck in his previous ways yet still trying to guide the others into their own self development and discovery, unknowingly holding himself back in fear of change.

He stepped forward, slowly, flicking away the armour as well as his lingering magic, Zelda returning to her mock privacy, attempting to free herself without success- he wasn’t concerned, unless she planned to throw herself to her death, she’d sit there “pretty” and wait.

“So,” Shadow said, his voice barely a whisper, eyes following the thin whisps of shadows around his fingers, “you split him.”

Green stepped forward first, sword drawn, “we are him.”

Shadow shook his head once, eyes rolling upwards to meet the men before him.

“No,” he murmured, picking at his claws in a show of indifference, “you’re his pieces, his hopes, his strength, his fear.” His eyes flickered to each of theirs, pointed and intentional, voice emphasising each other word.

He looked at Violet through his eyelashes, eyes crowing in glee.

“You’re his doubt.”

Violet flinched, just a fraction.

Shadow exhaled, placing his full attention on the group, drawing his own blade once more, something unreadable passing through his expression, “you weren’t meant to be used like this.”

The colours stood united, their swords drawn, facing the malevolent figure before them, they knew not to listen to the enemy, they could put ideas in your head or manipulate you, simply follow orders.

"You dare challenge me?" Shadow Link sneered, his form flickering like a mirage, “foolish children."

With a swift motion, he conjured a burst of dark energy, sending it hurtling toward the Links. Green raised his shield just in time, deflecting the blast, but the force sent him stumbling backward, Red and Vio prepared their weapons, while Blue charged forward recklessly.

"Stay back!" Vio shouted at his brother, but it was too late.

With a harsh shriek of his leather boots spinning against the floor tiles, Blue collided with Shadow Link, their swords clashing with a resounding clang. But Shadow Link's strength was overwhelming, he disarmed Blue effortlessly, sending him crashing to the ground.

"No!" Green cried, rushing to land by his friend's side, he was still conscious but injured, a slight headwound, more blood than necessary covered his face and tunic, paired with the flop of his hair. Green clambered to his feet, only to rush forwards again towards Shadow, except he received the same treatment as their original meeting in the chapel, his sword passing straight through, Shadow’s body elongating and distorting in a disturbing mockery of anatomy, causing him to fall to the floor once again.

Shadow Link laughed darkly. "You are nothing but shadows of the real hero. Even your blade is powerless, you stupid boy."

With a large sweeping blast of energy, sweeping his sword in a large arc, the colours below were blown backwards, each sporting shallow gashes and bruises from loose debris thrown their way and those closer injured by the blast of power that hit them, Red helping hold Vio straight, the boys grouping together into a quick huddle.

As he advanced to strike, a brilliant light illuminated the chamber, a fairy, radiant and pure, fluttered between the boys and Shadow.

"Enough!" the fairy proclaimed, her voice echoing with authority.

Shadow Link recoiled, hissing in pain as the light touched him. "What is this?" he snarled, body slowly reverting to his base form, a lack of energy caused by pain and a reflex to try protect himself, creating a darker, thicker skin to try block the light.

The fairy's form shimmered, her presence filling the room with a calming aura.

"You dare harm my guardians?" the creature intoned, her phantom eyes glowing with divine power, he could feel it piercing through him.

With a wave of her tiny hand, she summoned a protective barrier around the Links, shielding them from Shadow’s dark magic, the malevolent doppelgänger of Link growled in frustration, but he dared not challenge her might. "You are not welcome here," the maiden declared, a second distant voice echoing in the background, travelling in the humming waves of magic, “leave, or face my wrath, he is whole in heart, even if split in body, and that heart rejects you, shadow spawn!”

From behind the four, her light surged- pure, radiant, not warm but cleansing, she illuminated the chamber like morning light hitting a grave, and Shadow felt it.

Like fire, a raw, burning fire singing his skin and nerves.

The light struck him full across the chest, and for a moment, just a moment, he was no longer sure of his shape. His edges flickered, dissolved, struggled to reform. Though what was worse than the pain was the source, them, the fragments. The boys that looked like Link, that sounded like him, even though they weren’t him, they had no right to wield light against him. His light. The light he was denied.

He staggered and screamed in pure agony.

Red moved with heart.

Blue with fury.

Green with resolve.

Violet, carefully, reluctantly, with precision.

Their strikes weren’t coordinated, but they didn’t need to be, they were instinct. Unity fractured and still fighting as one.

Shadow blocked Blue’s sword determined to not be outdone, to be undermined as some weak creature with such a great weakness, sidestepped Green, caught Red’s shield and hurled him backward. He hesitated just before Violet struck, only for a moment, his fury fuelling him, not because he was afraid, but because he saw something familiar in the boy’s eyes.

Violet didn’t hesitate, the blade cut through Shadow’s side, it didn’t hurt him, but the disruption to his protective layer left him vulnerable for just a moment, burning him with holy light.

He cried out, not in pain, already exposed and vulnerable, back to his younger days, but in something like betrayal.

“You were supposed to understand,” he spat, backing away, darkness flickering around him like a broken halo, “you’re not supposed to fear me, you’re supposed to be me. You’re just how he said you would be, and that’s why you should fear me, you’re horrible.”

None of them spoke. That silence burned more than Miss Fairy’s light as she spun them away, the throne room empty once again aside from a small boy, skin melted and monochrome, cloaked in darkness.

Shadow’s magic flared, sharp and wounded, as he retreated in a streak of smoke and starlight, vanishing into the ether- but he didn’t leave empty, in his chest now pulsed something more dangerous than anger, more volatile than orders, disappointment.

He had seen his reflection split into pieces.

And all it did was try to erase him.

Shadow clenched his fists, wisps of dark energy crackled around his knuckles.

"He was never supposed to split," Shadow muttered under his breath. "It was supposed to fracture him, make him weak, not to multiply his strength." He flapped his hands free of dried black blood, claws elongating and fangs sharpening, “besides, I would have had them if not for stupid interference,” he hissed, confidence scarred, his insecurities bleeding, he had to pull himself together, physically and mentally.

He took a step forward, the darkness at his heels slithering after him like a cape of shame, he kicked at the edges yet pulled the clasps further over his shoulders in a protective hug.

They had fought him, and they had held their own, worse though, they had forced him to retreat. Now, he stood here, back at the place he once planned to burn down with his own laughter echoing in its halls and all he could feel was the weight of something he refused to name.

“I am the true reflection,” he growled, eyes wetting without his own will, eyelashes clumping and chest tight, uncomfortable, “I know everything he fears; everything he hides. I am him,” but even the stones seemed to whisper otherwise.

Suddenly, the air changed, a note, high, delicate- like bells forged from sunlight chimed through the chamber. He knew the sound.

No.

"Not you..."

From the air above, drifting gently like a falling star, she descended- Miss Fairy. Radiant, golden, her wings a shimmer of grace and memory. She hovered with no sound, but her presence filled the room with warmth that burned like frostbite over fresh burns to Shadow’s touch.

He winced, turning his head aside as if struck once more, the shadows around his body recoiled, pulling tighter to his form as though trying to shield him.

“Shadow,” she said, her voice not scolding, but sorrowful, filled with guilt, a horrid pity, he hated it, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“This is my castle now!” Shadow barked, “they left it behind like everything else, he did, I’m only taking what’s mine.” Yet his voice cracked at the edges, so rigid that even he could hear the edges of it.

Miss Fairy’s light expanded, filling the chamber in a slow, creeping wave, it didn’t push against him, it simply was a presence- truthful and unyielding. Shadow, born of lies and reflections, began to tremble beneath its weight.

“You were made from pain,” she said softly, a coaxing lull, “but even pain seeks healing, you don’t have to remain what Vaati made you.”

At that name, Shadow froze.

Vaati.

That wretched sorcerer who ripped him into being, who hissed promises of power and revenge into his soul like poison in water, who now waited, watching, judging; who once possibly loved him--

"If he knows I failed," Shadow whispered, his voice smaller than it had ever been, “he’ll erase me, or worse.” The thought clawed at him, more real than the threat of any blade. Vaati did not forgive weakness. Shadow was not a creation to him, he was a tool, a puppet, and puppets that broke were tossed into the fire.

For a heartbeat, Shadow faltered, the shadows around him flickered. “I didn’t ask to be this,” he said, his voice rough with something close to grief. “I didn’t ask to feel, I don’t even know what I feel but I know it’s there, it hurts.”

The light of Miss Fairy reached him, slowly propping, this time, it touched his shoulder, just a glimmer, and he fell to one knee as if the contact stole the strength from his body: not from pain, but from the unbearable weight of being seen. He couldn’t see her eyes, but she saw everything, her weight too heavy despite her tiny form.

He could feel them again, those four boys, those fragments of Link- their laughter, their bickering, their unity, they had something he didn’t understand.

They had each other.

“I’m not afraid of them,” he whispered, shaking, a tear slipping unnoticed into the crescents under his eye, his forehead crinkling, eyebrows narrowing, pulling down, “I can beat them, I have to…”

“You’re not afraid of them,” she spoke gently, “you’re afraid they’ll see what you see, that you’re only a shadow of what he’s become.”

Silence.

And then the darkness twisted around him violently, like a beast trying to devour its own master, Shadow screamed, though not in agony, but in confusion, in shame.

“Leave me alone!” he cried. “I don’t want your light, I don’t want--” But the fairy’s glow faded, not because she left, but because she had said all she needed to say. Shadow remained, alone in the empty castle, the cold moonlight now feeling more like chains than freedom, no sound, no warmth, what should have felt cool against his blistering skin instead was absent.

Just the flickering of his fading confidence, and the slow, crushing weight of knowing that he was never whole to begin with.

---

As always thanks for reading! Criticism and input is always welcome, feel free to comment or send me an ask, they're anonymous- let me know any improvements, simple asks or something you'd like to see, maybe its already in the works!

As per my previous poll this has come out far later than intended due to being very busy this month and also the fact I have accidentally messed myself over a little in the short-term- I have written 36k words including this piece as drafts for future parts and details etc. yet, ironically, I've also tried to write less for this project compared to my other works that are usually one cohesive flow, in project this I jumped in a few places due to the fact it's background, the adventure, and then the future/ current time for the romance. So buckle up for a multi-part series which I will try cut as much as possible for you all, then maybe we will instead simply have some future one-shots and drabbles again instead to expand on some smaller ideas.

Either way, this will be a project that takes time as I keep re-reading, re-writing and adding to my document, so please stick around for that (even if it takes a long while, possibly monthly, though hopefully sooner, I can't guarantee anything unfortunately)!

Fun facts:

I am well aware that Vaati is sealed at the beginning of the Four Swords manga, however, I like to combine both FS and Minish Cap for background lore, same of why the fights may differ, so please do excuse certain details.

There were no guards in the original scene of checking the seal, princess please, I know this is a rush but you have important people here at a villain's seal! /j

If I was set free to have whatever timeline I wanted (and blessed with mental energy and the ability to write /lh) this story overall would be far longer, I've had so many ideas and wanting to write one cohesive flow of background lore, the manga intro and then to progress, however, I've tried hold back for y'all.

I'll instead address the tags here to try keep them clean for now, the beginning parts are mostly Four Swords, however, future parts do have some focus to Linked Universe characters' interactions with Shadow once introduced, so this is the reason for the tags so please be kind and patient.

#shadow link x reader #shadow link #the colours #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda #loz x reader #four swords #linked universe x reader #linked universe #x gn reader #x reader #x male reader #multi part fic

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