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Four the Love of a Nutcracker

Summary: One Christmas in Hyrule, a girl buys herself a nutcracker with four colors. Before she knows it, mysterious things begin to happen around her. What is the secret of her new “friend”? And who is the one-eyed man who seems to know him? A Linked Universe x Nutcracker crossover. Four x Reader pairing.

Genre: Fluff, Light Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Rating: G

AO3 Link, if you prefer: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52453850

A/N: Hello! Welcome to the first fic I've written in a very, very long time! It will be multi-chapter; it will not be finished by Christmas. I don't have a lot of time available for writing right now, so I'm aiming for spring on this. Rest assured: it will be finished eventually. Next, I recommend you read The Nutcracker and the Mouse King by E.T.A. Hoffman (available in the public domain). While my story will not closely follow its plot, it will be fun if you can spot the references. ;) Lastly, have a Happy and Merry Christmas!

---

It was just the sort of evening you had hoped for. A small blaze crackled away in the fireplace, casting a cheerful glow across the floor. Shadows danced in the corners the light couldn't reach, darting and swaying with each pop of a log. A red armchair had been placed in front of the fire. Though it was bit threadbare in places, it was far less noticeable now than it had been in broad daylight. In the flickering firelight, it looked positively plush, inviting you into its soft embrace.

Placing a book and a mug of tea on the small table beside it, you surveyed your handiwork a final time before sitting. You had spent the better part of the day decorating your cottage for Christmas, and you were ready to rest. It had been several months now since you had come here. This land was quite foreign, but you had grown to love it. The people in town were friendly, and the scenery was pretty. You wondered what it would have been like to grow up in this place.

As you had worked and saved, you dreamed of how you might decorate a home of your own. Flowers in the spring and summer. Pumpkins and harvest wreaths in the fall. Fragrant greenery in winter. Candles everywhere (you were fond of candles and lanterns). As you pondered each season, you found yourself wondering about holidays. What was celebrated here? Were festivals a common occurrence, or were they on rare occasions? You had been quite curious about the local traditions. It was gratifying to find that this land also celebrated Christmas and in a very similar way to your own.

Naturally, your excitement was unmatched when you were able to afford a home. A small cottage on the edge of town: nothing large or fancy. However, it was now your home. It was a place of your own—no more staying at the local inn and being awakened by the sound of boots tromping through the hallways.

Your home – it had such a lovely sound to it. You had been settled for several weeks now, but the thought still brought a smile to your face. You had a home, it was in time for Christmas, and you had a quiet evening ahead of you. Yes, this was a peace you had craved for some time.

You settled yourself in your armchair, tugging a blanket over your legs (a wool blanket, of course—you had no desire to go up in flames. You were appreciative that Anju had gifted it to you). Curling yourself up comfortably, you glanced at the mantelpiece. Fresh greenery lined the edge, punctuated by sprigs of red berries. In the center, a wooden clock ticked quietly, flanked on either side by a pair of candles. It was simple but festive.

Your prized decoration, though, was the figure you had just purchased today: a colorful nutcracker. He looked quite charming standing on your corner bookcase, like he belonged there all along. Your thoughts drifted back to this morning. It had been an unusual day...

…...

The wind came suddenly. The first white flakes of winter had just begun to lazily make their way downward. The breeze, barely a whisper until now, rushed forth with renewed energy like a host eagerly welcoming his guests. For their part, the flakes saw fit to curtsy and bow, swirling around in a gavotte before whisking away to new ballrooms. They did not stand on ceremony.

As these harbingers of change greeted each other, the poor souls left on the street scrambled to find shelter. While wind and snow were all very well, they did not create favorable conditions for shopping.

It was far preferable to be indoors watching them rather than outdoors experiencing their bite.

The shop bell jingled merrily as you practically blew inside, and the wooden door banged shut behind you. You blew on your gloved hands, trying to shake off the cold the same way you had shaken off the snow. Glancing up, you noticed two or or three other customers who had clearly just arrived. They must have had the same idea you did: this would be a good place to wait until things quieted outside. Really, you had been planning to stop anyway, so it was rather fortuitous.

The shop was not large, but it had been packed to the brim with goods. Typical everyday items like plates, brooms, and pails were in one section. Another was filled with food items, like mushrooms and fresh eggs. Yet another held sundries like thread, sewing needles, and sturdy fabrics. You took your time browsing. There were all sorts of things from utilitarian to decorative, and you had plenty of time to work with.

“Oh!” You exclaimed as your eyes lighted on a tall cabinet in the corner. It had been stocked with new merchandise for Christmas: tins full of spiced sweets and sugared plums beckoned you forward, enticing you with the promise of rich flavors. Miniature evergreens made of dyed feathers created a small forest which any bird would be pleased to call home. Twisted glass that looked all the world like candy hung from special hooks, catching the light in their ridges.

To the right of the cabinet sat a small table stacked with bringers of light. Tin lanterns of various heights stood next to each other like a group of revelers. Each had a different pattern punched in it: moons, flowers, simple diamond shapes. Through them all, light twinkled like private constellations. Alongside these, clusters of candles lay neatly bundled, ready to be distributed and burned. The sweet scent of berries emanated faintly from them, carrying with it misty memories and nostalgic dreams.

You could have spent hours gazing at such beautiful things. There truly was a marvelous array of goods. As your gaze leisurely traveled over the shelves once more, a small cluster of wooden figures caught your attention. Upon closer inspection, you noticed that each one was painted differently. Some appeared to be soldiers, brass buttons gleaming down the front of their uniforms. Others showed their trade, such as a baker with his bread or a carpenter holding a saw. Still others were dressed for an activity, holding fishing rods, climbing gear, or even instruments. These were nutcrackers.

As you pored over them, a particular one caught your attention. It was nestled away in the corner, almost completely hidden. Gently moving aside the figurines, you picked it up. It was shorter and smaller than the others. You might not have noticed it at all but for the colorful tunic he was wearing. It was divided equally into four colors: blue, green, red, and violet, each with gold paint mimicking embroidery. Your gaze traveled upward, and you noted that the tunic culminated in a green hood with a tassel on the end. A sword sporting a single jewel in its hilt was strapped onto the back. Above this, carved strands of blond hair hung almost to the shoulders, a headband holding it back. The level of detail was astonishing. Whoever made him had clearly put their heart into it.

The only thing that you found a bit odd was the expression: it looked almost frightened, like a startled deer. Still, no matter. You very much liked him.

As you traced your finger over the figure's tunic, you heard footsteps behind you. In your peripheral vision, a tall figure leaned close. “That one is...quite unique, isn't he?” A bit surprised, you turned fully to look at the stranger. A well-built man, quite tall, and with middling-length blond hair smiled down at you. You immediately noticed the strange markings on his face and the scar over his right eye. You would have remembered such a face.

“Indeed,” you replied. “I've never seen one like him. I...enjoy all his colors.”

The man's eyes sparkled. “Oho! You do, do you?”

He offered no further commentary or explanation. You were unsure how to respond, so you abruptly decided to change the topic.

''...are you new here in town?” You ventured. “I'm certain I haven't seen you .”

“Not exactly. My companions and I have visited before, though we rarely stay more than a few weeks.”

“I see. I'm somewhat new here myself, but not enough that I can't make recommendations. I suggest you visit the bakery before leaving. I'm told they have a new holiday bread that shouldn't be missed. Even if you're familiar with everything, new things add spice to life.” Truth be told, you hadn't tried that bread yourself. Finances were a bit tight after buying your house. But everything from that bakery was delicious, so you had no doubt that you were doing the man a favor. “Oh, and please let me know if I can otherwise be of help.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

As you moved to put the colorful nutcracker back on the shelf, the man quickly interjected. “Oh, no, I think you should buy him now.”

“What?”

“You should buy him. Take him home, set him up somewhere. It would be...a good experience for him.”

“A...good experience?” You were confused.

“Indeed. Just now, you offered to help me. You could be of great help to me by getting this fellow here.”

...why was he so interested? His insistence was certainly strange. You started to wonder if you had been too friendly when speaking with him. Though town was generally safe, you still had a sense of self-preservation. You hoped you hadn't gotten involved with someone sketchy. But, the sensible part of you reasoned, would a dangerous person really be pushing for someone to buy a general-store nutcracker, of all things? It didn't make sense. He didn't do anything wrong or threatening; he was just pushy. It was more likely he was eccentric. Perhaps he was some sort of artisan that couldn't bear to see good work go unpurchased.

“You seem quite concerned with this,” you replied slowly. “Is it something you've worked with before?” That was vague enough. You should be able to determine something based on his reply.

The man's face remained neutral, though it almost seemed he was holding back laughter. “Indeed, it is something I have worked with before. Though I wouldn't call him my work.”

“What is your work, if I may ask?”

“In the past, I...” he chuckled. “Let's just say it involved time.”

Apparently, the man spoke in riddles. You wondered if the companions he mentioned dealt with this on a regular basis.

“Time...” The answer struck you. “Oh, like repairing clocks!” That would make sense. He would be able to discern quality woodworking, which would explain the pushiness.

His eyes twinkled. “Something like that.”

The man straightened. Something in his demeanor told you the conversation was ending. “If you need my assistance for anything, my friends and I are staying at the inn. Call me 'Time'. We may see each other in town again. ”

“And I really do advise you to buy him. You said yourself that new things can spice up your life. I guarantee that he will keep things interesting. But if you leave him now, he'll be gone in the blink of an eye.” With a friendly nod, he began to walk away.

You looked down again at the nutcracker. Just now, you had the distinct impression that he was glaring. You blinked. No, that couldn't be; the expression had not changed. It must simply be your own imagination, a passing fancy.

What a strange one the man with the scar had been. He had talked about this figure almost as if it was a real person. Perhaps that was the eccentricity of an artist.

You gazed thoughtfully at the decoration in your hands. Well, why not purchase him? You had budgeted for a few decorations, and he did catch your eye, after all. Carrying him firmly in your arms, you made your way to the front counter. Judging by the color of the sky, you'd be in here longer than you originally suspected. You might as well have a “friend” to spend it with.

….......

Returning to the present, you directed a glance at your “friend”.

“You're my first real guest, you know,” you said humorously. You had had visitors, of course, but each time had been brief. As of yet, no one had spent a whole evening in your company. Surely it wouldn't hurt to play a little and pretend he was a real visitor. “I'm sorry I can't offer you any food—you are a only decorative, after all. I would be a terrible host if I accidentally broke my guest's teeth on a nut.”

He looked a bit miffed at being called “decorative”, but he seemed relieved at your final sentence. (Of course, there was no way his expression could really have changed. This pretending business was rather fun, once you got down to it.)

“But,” you continued. “I can offer you a bit of entertainment.”

Picking up the book you had set out, you quickly flipped to the page at which you had stopped. This was one of your favorite stories. After briefly explaining the plot (you had to admit you felt a bit silly explaining it to an inanimate object), you began to read aloud.

The clock on the mantle ticked steadily and the fire crackled as your voice droned on. The occasional lilt and jump gave expression to the characters. It was a magical thing. Reading aloud made you feel so alive. You whiled away the evening in this pleasant manner, peeking up at your “guest” every once in a while. You must say, he did seem interested. You smiled slightly to yourself. What an imagination.

Directing a glance at the clock, you noted it was a bit earlier than you usually retired. Still, you had worn yourself out. It had been a long day, and all you wanted now was sleep. You carefully placed your book on the table beside you and carried your now-empty mug to the sink. Returning to your previous spot, you made quick work of banking the fire, making sure the coals would smolder through the night. While you could let it burn out, this had become a routine. Your mind had learned that as the fire slept, so could you.

You straightened up and stretched, taking one last look at your “guest”. As the firelight had dimmed, he had become more of a shadowy outline than anything else. Still, he cut a handsome figure. You smiled faintly. “We'll continue the story tomorrow. Thank you for your company. I'll see you in the morning.”

As you slowly trudged upstairs to your room, you blew out the few remaining candles. You didn't notice the faint light in the room behind you, gently emanating from the nutcracker.

(Chapter 1 of ??)

Linktober 2024, Day 1, Mirror (Self)

Alright here we go again.

Technically a sneak peak of a bigger thing to come in the future that I'm repurposing, and the result of my final playthrough and readthrough before EoW dropped being Four Swords Adventures and that made me sad about Shadow Link again.

Note that this is for the Four Swords Adventures iteration of Shadow Link that might evolve into an LU Shadow, not Dark Link in either LOZ or LU, I have other plans for him.

This one shot was brought to you by Scars by The Crane Wives, Ribs by The Crane Wives, Ruin by The Amazing Devil and Two Minutes by The Amazing Devil because the author's playlist decided to be incredibly cheeky when they blacked out to write this like an ancient seers being cursed with visions and then called mad and hearing they've been put up for execution.

As always the nature of the relationship can be romantic or platonic, mostly due to the author's time constraints and further plans.

Anyway enjoy the reading!

It was cold.

The sort of cold after a wildfire, when everything's turned back to ash, the sort that left burned your vision white after the flames licked through your veins and left an ache in your bones. He shuddered, coughed black onto the stone floor, shaking with a muffled whimper.

It never got any easier, being dragged from the Dark World and into the Realm of Light, the goddesses' world itself revolting against an intruder, wanting the wound torn asunder into their oh so precious realm cauterized. To purge the intrusion and smite it where it stands.

Too bad for them (and for him), his master didn't particularly care about what the world wanted. Didn't particularly care that he hadn't grow accustomed to the pain or the cold, he had to stand up. There was work to be done.

(Shadow gritted his teeth, willed himself not to think about the prophecy of a golden haired princess- because whether he liked it or not, it was prophecy. As those with divinity running through their veins are wont to spill from their throats so carelessly- of violet eyes and a smile a third moonlight and hands holding a hammer.

It always hurt more, after one of the heroes liberated one of the maidens, or the jewels, the pain lingering for days afterwards and carving a home in his metaphorical bones. But just this once he'd take the cold bite of the Four Swords over the pain in the hole in his chest that Vio's betrayal had left, something that felt so much worse than every other time before.

Just this once he wished that maybe, just maybe, the hurt would be too much to bear, that he wouldn't wake up again-

Why? Why does it hurt so much but he's still here? He already knew the Light was uncompromising and unforgiving, but he thought them at least above curses.)

His ears twitched as soft, almost silent footsteps came up to his side. Someone crouching by his fallen form, setting a cautious hand over his own that Shadow couldn't help but draw away from with a hiss, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the world again, to your face, carefully blank as you guided him to lean against your side, a silver choker with a crimson gem winked mockingly at him, the shade closing his eyes and going boneless against your side.

Shadow was so, so tired.

He heard you quietly sigh, plucking his cap from his head and running your fingers through dark amethyst, smoke and mist made hair. "I told you so."

"Shut up." He grumbled, nuzzling further into the crook of your neck. One clawed hand curling against your free wrist, digging into the skin. Absentmindedly noting there were new scratches just above the metal.

It was routine by now, the warmth of your existence against his own a welcome balm, not quite of the Realm of Light where it's unpleasant, not too close to the Dark World where he felt like melting back into the embrace of the darkness, only to howl in agony at being dragged out.

Memories not quite his own bled into his mind all the time. How you'd shape ice into flowers for the princess in winter with nary a though, of blinking and from one second to the next you'd have whatever sword he had hostage if you though it was time for a break with a smile brighter than the sun.

His master had changed that though. It took months for you to stop trying to claw the collar out and to stop trying to fight Vaati.

(Funny how holding a mage's dragon as a bargaining chip is just as effective as kidnapping a ruler.)

Your gaze flicked to the polished obsidian of the Dark Mirror, to the gold, ornate frame. "The offer is still open, you know. Let me take the suffering from you."

"No." He scowled, leaning back to glare into your eyes, a hint of fangs poking out from a maw struggling to keep the shape of a human jaw, "You helped him. Helped them." Shadow spat, there is that hurt again.

You shrugged, a movement that's just slightly awkward as you flinch, "That I did." You confirmed simply, it almost made Shadow see red as he leaned away, knocking your hand from his head in the process, but if there's anything him and the heroes shared, was a lack of a desire to hurt you. It was a little grating to be honest, "Vio even offered to take me with him, to be honest."

"Then why didn't you leave?" He demanded.

Why did you stick around?

Your eyes shuttered, a hint of conflict in your pursed lips. Before you found your words, they come out softly, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you why. You'll just have to find out yourself."

You tug your wrist from his grasp, and Shadow lets you go.

(Stubbornly pushing down on memories and emotions that arearen'tarenotanymore quite his.)

You stand and turn away, pushing the curtains away from your sight, you turn your tired eyes to Shadow with an emotion he can't put a name to. "Just keep it in mind that there's more than one way to end this. Nothing is truly inevitable."

Shadow watches you go. 'There's nothing that can be done. He tells himself, hand hesitating above the Dark Mirror, briefly, it curls into a fist. The hero's original self stares back at him.

'… Does he really believe that?'

He shakes his head, and focuses on willing the Dark Mirror to show him his counterpart.

His chest still hurts.