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Snow Bunny

Summary:

Legend's hair is doing a weird thing. Turns out, he's not the only one, but man does it freak Wars out! Which is sort of funny actually, or at least entertaining when you're a hero with nothing to do >:)

Notes:

Blaming this one entirely on @lu-polls on Tumblr! Their idea, I just breathed a bit of life into it and handed it over to the boys to deal with :)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

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  The captain is the one that points it out really.  

  They’re all lounging about one day after a long day’s travels, not as long as it could be but too long all the same for Sky, who’d taken a blow to the leg the other day which hadn’t healed right just yet, and so for his sake they stop early. With the skyloftian tended, however, and more time on their hands then they are accustomed to after a day’s travels, they’re all sort of restless.  

  Time and Wind take to sparring, just on the other side of camp where they won’t hit anybody, but close enough that Time has to keep jumping or else tripping over their supplies where they’ve been set down. Wind takes great delight in that, pressing the advantage it gives him, but the Old Man always recovers before he can be truly beaten, and off they go again.  

  It’s entertaining to watch, really. The alternatives of course being joining Sky and Four as they instruct Hyrule on weapon’s care, or joining Twilight as he collects and chops firewood somewhere off in the forest; close enough to be heard but far away enough not to be seen. And then there’s the captain, who, some time ago, had settled down behind their champion, brush in hand, and undertaken the monumental task of getting Wild’s still wet hair (he’d somehow ended up in a stream an hour ago while they were still traveling) into something somewhat resembling order. It’s slow going though, although occasionally Legend turns his eyes over to watch when he’s not tracking the motions of their youngest and eldest heroes.  

  Seeing the captain’s face all twisted up in ire and confusion, or the expressions he makes as he plucks and tugs various things out from long blonde locks, is entertaining in its own way, he supposes. Personally, he’d rather be busy in his own work, but an ache in his hands from helping fish the champion out of the water has persisted enough since then that he hasn’t much mind for his own hobbies. Because, naturally, it’s when he has the time that his body won’t behave to do what he wants, just as when it does behave, he hasn’t the time to employ it.  

  The mere though makes him huff slightly, but that huff is turned quickly to cackling laughter as he sees Warriors’ eye twitch as the captain’s hands abruptly still.  

  “How,” the war hero huffs, “do you let it get this bad?”  

  Wild shrugs, he’s been doing something with his slate since the captain ordered him to sit, and other than the occasional wince, he’s mostly remained impassive for the last while, oddly still, like maybe he doesn’t mind the attention offered to him, even if it does come only because he’s such a walking disaster these days. Legend could swear a brush hasn’t touched that head in a week, and based on the way the captain grits his teeth, he’s pretty sure he’s right.   

  “Seriously,” Wars prattles on, and since he’s nothing much to watch, legend turns back to watching Time swing a heavy blow in Wind’s direction, making the smaller hero give up what must have been quite a bit of ground he gained earlier, he still listens though to the soldier’s voice, passively curious, “you’re a knight of Hyrule, and a hero no less! We can’t go about looking homeless!”  

  “What if we are, technically, homeless?” Hyrule pipes up, and while the words are concerning, a quick glance reveals that the boy is grinning, all his very sharp teeth flashing a bit at the captain.  

  He hears, more than sees (because Wind is beginning a charge and that’s far more interesting) Warriors sigh. “No need to look the part even so.” There’s a little grunt from Wild after the words, which means the brush got caught again, and a hiss follows that from between the captain’s equally sharp teeth as the man must work at it from a few angles before puffing out another great sigh and bustling through some bag or another.  

  It’s not Legend’s bag, that much he knows. He never lets his own off his person except to sleep, and even then, he’s long learned by now not to leave it anywhere outside his own reach. With the captain’s sticky fingers though, there’s o promise what he’s rifling through s his own bag though.  

  Ah well, if people don’t want their things messed with by a brother, maybe they shouldn’t leave them lying about.  

  Wind attempts are foiled, Time knocking him back, and based off the sound his ears are tuned too, the captain attempts meet the same struggle.   

  “Give it up already,” he advises, glancing over his shoulder at the two soldiers both entangled in blonde hair belonging to only one of them. “It’s not like there’s anyone around to see us if we’re a mess, and I’m sure if Wild wanted his hair brushed, he’d be doing it himself.”  

  He would not, in fact, be doing it himself. They all know this. Wild may not care to cut his hair at all, having stated so before, but he never shows much interest in keeping up with caring for it outside of the occasional wash and then tying it back.   

  Warriors knows it too, and the way royal blue level him for his words would be enough, he thinks to make a lesser man shiver, but considering how often that flat stare, disapproving and mocking disappointment, is turned on him, he’s essentially immune by now. “The amount of times,” the elder states, slowly, carefully, “that I have seen any of you holding a hairbrush, could be counted on one of my hands.”  

  “You’re aware that signing allows you to count to a hundred or more with only five fingers, right?”  

  The stare gets a bit darker, not truly angry, but disapproving? Definitely.  

  Legend doesn't let it bother him. “In Labrynninan, you can even count to a thousand, although it takes quite a bit and-”  

  “Not what I mean,” Wars sighs, gathering up Wild’s hair into a tail and attacking the very end, yet again, with a brush. For a man with a military haircut, he’s surprisingly aware of how to brush waist-length hair. Legend wonders why, but doesn’t ask. “Frankly, I’m tired of seeing people looking like disasters all the time.”  

  “Stop looking at my shield then,” he retorts, grinning and pulling one knee up before himself to lean against, chin hooking over so he can leer at the other man, “you’ll see ever so many less of them.”  

 Wind, mid-strike, bursts into laughter that almost has him going unbalanced, and Time yelps a bit when he almost strikes their youngest as a result, pulling up sharply instead and almost, almost overbalancing himself as a result.  

  Warriors blinks at him. “Ha. Ha.”  

  “I know,” Legend lets his smirk get a bit wider, “I’m hilarious. Hold your applause.”  

  Wild, still trapped beneath the brush, snorts out a laugh.  

  The captain’s eyes arrow at him, which, fine, but the words out of the man’s mouth next do bring him a sense of unease. “You’re next.”  

  A lesser man would run, or perhaps a child. Legend doesn’t wish to be either of those things, but he is a bit tempted. Still, Wars just goes back to brushing and their leader and sailor to their sparring and, other than Twilight coming out of the forest with an armload of firewood, the camp doesn’t really change at all after those words. Quite frankly, a moment later, he’s supposing to himself that they’re nothing but an empty threat and turning back to watch the spar before him, cheering whomever he so pleases onwards until they finish  

  They don’t finish for a good bit. Win olds his own well, something Time comments on, grinning, and the old man himself is hardly breathing harshly, quite shocking considering his age (which, naturally, he does point out). They’re still going actually when Warriors at last sets Wild free, and so Legend’s eyes are quite caught o the and thus miss it until the last moment that the captain is coming up behind him.  

  He's preparing, quite honestly, to have to catch whatever limp comes for him and use it to toss the soldier across their camp, but instead, Warriors just... settles down behind him, crisscross applesauce like an overgrown and spider-limbed toddler, and reaches not for shoulders or back, but the veteran hero’s cap.  

  Naturally, he makes a wounded noise when it’s tugged on because that thing is pined to his head! It hurts when someone tugs on it because it effectively tugs any and all hair used to anchor the darn thing, but it is sort of worth it for the way the man behind him startles at the sound he makes  

  Although, his scalp is now incredibly sore. Curse his tender head and the captain’s thoughtless lack of a brain!  

  “You okay?”  

  “Peachy,” he scowls, and while the hat itself doesn’t have nerves, he does tug it away, holding a bit tightly to the end and scowling around it at his brother. “I simply adore having my hair pulled by a lumbering yeti.”  

  Warriors’ face goes from concerned to nonplused. “My feet aren’t that big.”  

  He makes a show of looking down to large boots, up to blue eyes, and then slowly, slowly, raising his brows, not blinking once.  

  Warriors smacks him across the shoulders, not hard enough to really hurt, and not as hard as he usually would, probably also aware of the fact that the vet isn’t moving around much right now and what that probably means. He appreciates it, but doesn’t say so. They don’t talk about that sort of thing, it gets weird if they do, with any of them.   

  “Take the hat off.”  

  “What for?”  

  “I told you that you were next,” the man reminds, brandishing a brush, “I meant it.”  

  Somehow, he hadn’t realized that that was the intention behind those words. He'd sort of just thought Wars was coming for him, not planning on, what? Brushing his hair? “You know I can do that myself, right?”  

  “And yet you don’t. Hat off.”  

  Really, what’s the harm? He doesn’t actually care either way. His hair isn’t long enough to get as messy as Wild’s, even if it is a bit longer than rest (minus Four who definitely holds second place) but it is still capable of becoming a mess, especially when shoved under a hat all day, every day. Besides, if it keeps the captain entertained, who he is to complain? Not that he can understand why Warriors would subject himself to this, but oh well, whatever satisfies the weird little itches he’s got going beneath his skin. Legend doesn’t care, and so, he takes off his hat.  

  Wars sets immediately to work, and while he does, the vet starts folding up his blue cap. Well, not his technically, because technically speaking it’s just on loan from Myth, because they’d all switched caps as a joke and he hasn’t been able to return it and get his own back yet, but for the time being he supposes he could call it his. It’s his in the eyes of the rest of the heroes.  

  He’s sort of pondering if that counts at all, and watching Wind try another attack under Time’s instruction, gaze slipping here and again to Twilight, who’s also watching the spar with an incredibly odd expression on his face, when all of a sudden he hears a small little shudder behind himself.  

  At first, he thinks ‘great, there is a knot’, but then, a moment later, as long fingers wind into his hair and start parting it in some entirely random place, he thinks better of that. Why would Warriors shudder to see a knot? Goodness, he’d have seen worse on Wild’s head, but what on earth draws that sort of reaction? For that matter, what on earth did the captain just see that has his motions going from practiced and almost mechanical to oddly.... gentle?  

  “Wars, you good?”  

  There’s a breath, and it’s abruptly very warm on the back of his neck, making him startle himself and maybe squirm a bit. That is freaking weird to be feeling, especially when it usually means he’s going to find teeth around his throat in the next second and probably have to fight for his life. It’s only a stupid amount of self-control that stops him reaching for his sword on instinct at the sensation, but even then, his fingers still twitch violently in its direction.  

    “Vet,” it’s slow spoken, soft, almost too quiet to hear if he wasn’t right in front of the man, both ears tilted back to catch the words, “are you....” the soldier trails off, and the hands buried in his hair disentangle themselves just to drag through with fingers alone over the space where he’d just been pushing hair away. It would feel nice if the man behind him wasn’t so clearly upset by something, and Legend has to resist hissing at him to say what he’s saying already. Wars comes to it though, still being strangely gentle, voice still weirdly quiet, “have- are you....” The man sucks in a breath this time and Legend can’t help but tense. “Are you doing okay?”  

  What?  

  All that fuss for.... what?  

  “Yes?” Other than the fact his joints are bugging him, but what else is new? “Why?” It’s incredulous and confused and any other word that means he has no clue what’s happening right now. He’s sure he could find the words, he just can’t be bothered at the moment.  

  The captain’s hands card through his hair again, from the crown of his head to the base of his neck and it really does sort of feel nice except the man clearly is bothered by something he’s seeing back there, and unfortunately, no turning about of the head will allow the veteran to see the back of his own, so he’s left only able to ask again.  

  “Wars, what’s wrong?”  

  There’s a moment, and then the captain is leaning a bit closer, voice ever so quiet, and asking “are you sure you’re okay? You know you can tell-”  

  “Din dang it, captain,” and maybe Wars was trying for subtlety, but Legend can’t be arsed, spinning about to stare at the man himself, “what’s got your scarf up in such a twist?”  

  And then someone else, he thinks it’s Wild, lets out a soft, “holy shit” that makes him spin about again to stare at the rest of his brothers.  

  Twilight is the only one (other than the two sparring) not making a worried face in fact, the rancher, while wide eyed, looks like he’s about to start laughing.  

  “Legend,” War’s hand on his shoulder feels way too cautious, “your hair-”  

  “My freaking hair? Seriously?” Who even cares about his hair? What the dickens is so big a deal?  

  “Legend,” and this time it’s Sky, slow, quiet, rattled looking, “your hair is turning white .”  

  And with those few simple words, he goes from incredibly unsettled to incredibly flushed, enough so that he can feel his ears and face flood over with burning scarlet.  

  Twilight, across camp, throws his head back and starts freaking cackling .  

  “Shut up!”  

  “Twilight!” Warriors scolds, no longer the least bit gentle in his tone, although the hand on his shoulder remains so, “this isn’t a laughing matter! Hair doesn’t turn white for no reason! Our vet could be under an incredible amount of stress and yet you’re just laughing?”  

  And, well, yes, he is under a lot of stress, a stupid amount honestly, but that sort of comes with being the hero and also has absolutely nothing to do with her treacherous hair changing color. No, because that would happen even if he had hung up the sword half a decade ago when he last tried to retire. Irregardless of lifestyle, it would happen, he’s just not sure how or even if he should explain that.   

  Would it be better to just let them believe this is another veteran hero thing? Only that wouldn’t work because then they’d start to wonder when he starts going blonde again and the white disappears like it does every time. Because this isn’t a first, and until he well and truly goes white in old age (if he ever gets that far) he doesn’t suppose it’s going to stop happening.  

  And Twilight knows . Twilight is still laughing even with the disapproving eyes of even Time on him, which is saying a lot, all things considered, and thus is incredibly irritating.   

  “Shut up!”  

  The rancher wheezes. “Sorry!”  

  “Are not,” and yes, he’s sort of pouting but he’s not entirely sure what expression to wear so he just leaves it be. “If you were sorry, you’d stop.”  

  There is, in all honesty, a valiant attempt to stop but eventually, under the heavy stares of the rest of the heroes and Legend’s own affronted glare, their rancher at last masters himself enough to explain his uncouth behavior. “Alright, alright, ‘m sorry.”  

  “Bit not good, Twi.” Wild sounds, clearly mimicking Warriors but also frowning at his mentor as he does so, both of which are weird to witness.  

  Midnight blue don’t even grace them with a wince, still twinkling as they stare over at him, mischief in their depths. “I gotta ask, ledge, is it what I think it is, or...?” And he doesn’t state it, and Legend’s not quite sure either, so he doesn’t answer, but when he fails to the rancher eases up a bit and his grin turns ore pleasant. “I’m turning grey on account of...”  

  “You’re what?” Warriors startles.  

  But Legend’s more concerned with the implications of that statement, nodding over to the other and feeling his ears burst into flames as he does so. “Yeah.”  

  “Fun,” the rancher sounds, ignoring the rest. “When did that start.”  

  And heavens, does he want to avoid that question! Admitting means earning pity from those who don’t understand, and to make them stop he’d have to explain the oh so embarrassing truth.  

  The truth being, of course, that rabbits turn white in the winter, fur fading lighter to hide amidst the snow, just as wolves get their second coat in for similar reasons, as well as to stay warmer. If what Twilight is saying means what he thinks it does, then they’ll both be dealing with an excessive amount of fluff atop their heads for the following months, and in the wrong color to boot, a color that will convince everyone around them who doesn’t know that they are, in fact, either very old, or very, very, over-stressed. Legend feels both in the moment, which isn’t helped at all by all the eyes turning between himself and the rancher.  

  Still, a question has been asked, and though he’s wary to admit what age he’d been, he realizes abruptly that he doesn’t have to. In fact, he can leave his (much lesser than they’ve all assumed) age out of it entirely! So, he shrugs, brushing a hand through his hair (and yep, it’s already thicker than it was a week ago) and avoiding the eyes of the rest. “After my first adventure.”  

  “Same,” Twilight sounds, nodding slowly.  

  Warriors, behind him, is oddly quiet and still, which is very out of character for him and maybe a bit worrying.  

  When the rancher’s voice softens, not as wary as the older hero’s was a moment before, but still cautious, he fights back a groan, all the more so at the question asked of him. “How did yer folks react?”  

  “Freaked out,” he answers honestly, “but I did too, so....” Uncle had panicked, really, staring at the shock of bright white that had suddenly overtake blonde nearly over night, and immediately assuming, as the captain had, that it was due to the stress of his adventures. “Yours?”  

  “Same,” Twilight winces, “but in all fairness, I was freakin’ out first. Made sense later, but goats did it scare the horns off me.”  

  “You haven’t got horns, Twilight.” Wind calls, face twisting up like he’s not sure if he’s supposed to laugh or stay solemn and confused like the rest.   

  The rancher’s face flattens out, expression almost mournful as he turns to the youngest. “Yeah, they never grew back after.”  

  That earns an eyeroll, from himself and Wild, and then, when they realize, the rest as well. Wind snorts. “Sure.”  

  “’s true!” And in a moment, the spar between sailor and leader has become a laughing argument between their youngest and the rancher, leaving Time to shrug and set aside his sword, moving to settle beside Hyrule with a huff that says he’s far overspent. The panic from a moment before is quickly forgotten, most of the rest either attending to the new subject matter and the entertainment it brings or returning to what they were doing before.  

  Unfortunately, what Wars was doing before was trying to brush his hair, so the focus of that hero returns to him. “Are you comfortable sharing?”  

  And he’d deny, deny, deny, but he knows that’ll only spurn on further trouble and worry, neither of which he needs. “It’s a magic thing,” he answers, huffing, “it’ll go back to normal in a while, I’m fine.”  

  And there’s doubt, there’s hesitation in the hands that start carding through white streaked blonde again, but Warriors doesn’t press, and for that he’s grateful. Instead, the man sets to as though the streaks don’t bother him, brushing and detangling and generally working at the hair even long past the point he could be done.  

  Legend doesn’t complain. It feels nice actually, oddly relaxing once the man behind him isn't tense as a drawn bow-string, and if he lets his eyes flutter shut, leaning in slightly to the sensations of fingers stroking over his scalp, well then, no one is the wiser.  

  They let it go there, and blessedly so, but within the week, he is decidedly no longer blonde, and just as warned, Twilight is as grey as a grandfather, not a bit of tawny brown left to be seen, much to Time’s evident distress. No one panics further about it though, and Twilight even jokes about it, between the two of them, something which he can’t resist doing himself.  

  Anyways, he’s worn his hair in many colors, white’s not the worst. And Twi looks good grey; a real silver-fox, Wild teases, whistling at the man until Twilight chases him down and scolds him for it, something which is entertaining for all of them to watch.  

 

Notes:

I honestly really love the idea of Legend's hair turning white in the winter, but I figure, hey, if the bunny does it, the wolf probably does too! I haven't written anything like this in a while and it was really fun to do after so long! I also haven't written any Bunny Legend content in a bit, and while he technically doesn't turn into a rabbit in this one, I'll count it anyways because I want to :)

Anyways, I hope you all have a great day today! I know it's that season where we all start to feel sick (I'm an excellent example rn lol) so remember to stay hydrated and take vitamins and electrolytes, and, you know your meds, because those are good for you too LOL. Stretch out once and a while, relax your shoulders and jaw (but unshrimp!) and make sure you eat something today and get some nice sleep when the sleeping time comes around for you, okay?

Love you all! Have a great November!!!!!!

God Bless!