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“Someone drew the sword? Today?”“Today, your highness. His name is Link.”Zelda closes her eyes. In her lap, her fingers gather her skirt tightly. She remains silent. Her guard captain remains at attention across her desk, his facade blank. Her royal advisor, Impa, stands more relaxed and seemingly unattached from the exchange. “That’s… a common name, isn’t it?” she finally asks. “There are at least two in the royal guard. Which one?”“Not the guard.” Her captain pauses. “This one is a lifer, but no longer active duty. He got himself injured a few years ago. Now he teaches.”The queen stares across her desk at the wall. Silence stretches out between the two of them like a cat. “He is sharing his experience with the recruits,” her captain offers, hope rising in his voice.“So, how old is he, exactly, then?” she asks, rubbing her temples, eyes now closed as the whole situation worsens in front of her. She hears the captain shift his feet, but he says nothing.“Has this blade ever chosen someone over the age of 18?” Her frustration spills into her voice. “I thought the whole reason we present very young boys to it was because it chooses the very young?”Her captain draws a breath, and stops whatever he is going to say. She repeats herself. “How old is he?”“He is forty-two, your highness.”
Forty-two.
“Can I ask what a forty-two year old man was doing when he got his hands on the Master Sword?” Zelda slides her face into her hands, bracing for impact.“He was leading the group being presented to the sword. He has brought children to the sword annually for the past three or four years.”“Surely he was presented when he was younger- he must tug on that sword every year! Why now?”“Today, it seems, the blade found him worthy.”Zelda’s head is still in her hands as her guard captain leaves. She tries to decide how she feels, exactly. Mostly, she feels nothing, but there is dread in the potential.“Impa?” her voice is muffled in her palms. “Your Majesty.”“I assume you heard all of that.”“Yes, your Majesty.”“Please drop the titles right now, Impa. His name is Link. Link. By the three, what am I supposed to do with that?”“It's not him.” Impa is confident with her answer. “It's a common name.”“Are you sure?”“Oh, that one is still in Eldin and he has not left in at least six months. He hasn’t been anywhere near the Temple of Time.”“You’re sure?”Impa’s voice takes on an edge. “I’m sure. I keep tabs on him. It's not him.”Zelda takes a deep breath. “Impa. What am I going to do?”Impa rests a hand on her shoulder.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Link stands at the top of the steps with his back to the Temple of Time, taking a deep breath. The day is sunny and warm, spring well underway. “All right, everyone,” his voice rings out. “Let’s get camp settled and Captain Kota will go over what is going to happen tomorrow.”It’s a good day, and the last normal one he will have. There’s a story about a sword in Hyrule. A particular sword that is particular about who handles it. Only Hylia’s chosen hero with an unbreakable spirit can wield the blade that rests in the Temple of Time. It sounds so easy. The sword knows what it wants, and when that person wraps a hand around the hilt, it slides out of the pedestal. That’s the moment when all is right. More than right. It’s a moment where one touches something sacred. No living person has ever actually seen this moment, of course. Some theorized that the odd sword in the stone was just a trick and couldn’t actually be removed. No one had seen it so much as wiggle in centuries. It certainly hadn’t budged for Link when he was sixteen. He remembered the hope he’d felt, the but what if- and then he’d touched the cobalt blue hilt, wrapped his fingers around it and pulled, and… nothing. It may as well have been sculpted straight from the stone.So. Not the chosen hero. But no one else in his group had been either. Or any group after that in the twenty-six years since. Everyone hopes, sure, but in the end it's just a story.Right?It was sunny and warm when Link and Kota and a gaggle of village children arrived on the plateau and set up camp in the clearing, at the foot of the hilltop where the Temple stood. Link gave a quick geography lesson, taking in the beauty of Hyrule as he did. The view from the plateau is one of the best the kingdom offers. The outline of Hyrule Castle can be seen in the distance, its delicate towers and spires giving the structure a fairy tale feel from this vantage. The ominously named Death Mountain, once a very active volcano, rises high on the horizon, the tallest peak visible. The southern view is blocked by the rise of the hill where the temple sits, but the trees on the terraced landscape of Faron are visible if one squints a little. The temple itself sits quiet and serene, built in another age, and no one now is sure what purpose it served originally.He had been a teenager the first time he’d come here, with his entire life before him. Things had maybe not gone exactly as he might have planned, but overall, life hadn’t been that bad. He was a soldier in a time of peace, and that was fine. He'd visited places in Hyrule and met people he would not have otherwise. Then he’d been called back to central Hyrule to oversee training young recruits. This was his assignment for the past few years, and that was fine, too.He’d had a good life so far. A pretty good one, anyway. And maybe, when he retired, he’d go back to that fishing village on the beach. And maybe, if she was still around and interested, he’d court up that girl, seriously this time. If she wasn’t interested, he’d find someone who was. Maybe he could convince the reference librarian to leave the castle. That would be ok. More than ok. Two days ago, he’d been on his third or fourth trip to the Temple of Time. He made this trip annually, leading kids rounded up from the various villages of Hyrule, all excited to see the sword in the pedestal. They took any who wanted to come; mostly boys, but a few girls, too. It was mostly vacation for him. He’d spend a few days on the road, enjoy the countryside, and watch children make new friends and go back home with a story to tell. And Hylia, but they have quite a story this year. Link, Kota and maybe a dozen kids huddle around a campfire that night, telling stories and speculating about what might happen at the presentation the next day. The kids probably horsed around a little too late into the night, but that was fine. The next day’s stakes are not particularly high, after all. Link wakes up with a headache, a buzzing that rattles his entire skull. The light is a little too bright and everyone is a little too loud; and sure, he and Kota shared some wine last night, but he certainly hadn’t had that much. He hasn't been hungover in years. Though, this didn’t feel much like a hangover in the first place. It is… different. He toughs it out through breakfast and breaking camp, but hangs back a little as Kota herds the kids toward the Temple. As he nears the building, whatever is going on inside his head grows a tiny bit... worse? More intense?If something were to burst through his forehead, he would not be surprised. He tenderly brushes the back of his head and winces, hoping no one else notices. He guides stragglers through the doors before stepping through himself. As he does, he hears a whisper in his left ear. He jerks to a stop, ears twitching.“Link? You alright?”He gives his head a quick, painful shake, and holds up a hand, silently asking Kota for a moment. And he listens.
oh you’re finally here
it’s time
it’s time
it’s time
it’s finally Time
The sword rests at the center of the Temple of Time in a triangle-shaped pedestal. It is quiet, serene, a holy artifact from another age. Light filters through stained glass windows depicting past heroes wielding that sword. Just stories to thrill each other with, Link supposes. After all, they couldn’t be real, right? Some of the images baffled the mind; no creature like that could have ever existed. There’s a dragon covered in a bluish light. A ridiculously oversized octorok. One is just a pair of hands and a baleful red eye. The one that always catches his eye is of a great black beast with a spike of stone in its snout, towering on two feet over the tiny figure of a man attacking its toes. One man with a sword going after that could only ever succeed in being lunch. Right?“LINK.”He turns to the pedestal, touching the side of his head again, suspecting that hadn’t been the first time Kota called his name. The sword looks different this year. It sparkles, bathed in gold light with no obvious source and oh, his head. Is he having a stroke?No one else seems to see anything odd. The kids have all quieted down. Now they gaze upon the sword with eager anticipation.
I am so happy to see you again master it has been too long
“Link, are you ok?” Kota’s voice is full of real concern this time.Link waves Kota off, giving him a weak smile. “I’m fine. Let’s get this started.” He takes a breath and steadies himself, trying to get above the headache and the whispers. “OK, everyone, settle down and listen.” He hopes his voice sounds more confident than it feels. He takes a step toward the pedestal and begins.“Legend says that when great danger threatens Hyrule, a hero rises to aid the incarnation of the Goddess Hylia to stop it. This sword is the instrument the hero uses to defeat it, and when its duty is done, it comes back here to rest and wait for the next hero. Stories say the sword will only come out for the hero and no one else.”“How does it know?” He startles a little at the young voice and his head swims.
Master please
Link closes his eyes and touches his temple with his left hand. “No one knows. The goddesses decide who is worthy.”“Like Queen Zelda? My mom says she’s a goddess. Why doesn’t she just pick?”Oh Hylia. Link normally enjoys these sorts of interjections, but today he just wants to be done and go nurse the thrum in his head somewhere quiet. He draws a deep breath. “That’s not the role the Queen plays in the story.” He rushes the words. Maybe that was not the right tone.Kota snaps his head around to give him a look and hiss in a lowered voice. “That was a little sharp, don’t you think?”Link sighs. “I’m sorry. Your mom is right. The Queen, or more usually, the Princess Zelda may be a goddess but this isn’t her role. The sword itself makes the selection as to who will be its master, and that’s why it’s called the Master Sword. We never know when it might be time, and the sword tends to pick young people, so all of you are going to try to pull it out. Like this.”All those young faces turn to him and he straightens up. Giving his head another quick shake, Link steps to the pedestal. Kota frowns, aware something isn’t right. Link’s head grows heavy with that low buzz. It seems… anticipatory. Like the feeling he gets reaching out for an intimate partner.Not for the first time, he stands before the sword. It has never felt like this, though. He swallows, and for a moment a flash of fear crackles on his skin. What would happen when he took the hilt?Nothing is going to happen. Nothing ever happens. It is a one handed sword. He takes a deep breath and reaches out with both hands, already anticipating the futile strength it would take to tug at the hilt. Nothing is going to happen. Nothing is going to happen. Nothing is going to happen.He wraps his hands around the hilt. His eyes flutter closed on contact. For a short moment, his mind is empty. Then, oh goddesses what have I done?Even through closed eyes, his vision is bathed in that gold light. The buzzing leaves his head and takes his breath with it. His gut drops and for a moment he feels like he is coming apart. He tightens his grip- and now there is a sort of joy in his head, but it didn’t belong to him. He is taking part in a reunion he knows nothing about.
It’s been too long, master! It is good to see you again.
He doesn’t know who is so pleased to see him again, but they are ever so happy he’s come back. The light intensifies. He grits his teeth and pulls upward on the hilt.And it moves, just a little. Then a little more. Outside of him, he hears a collective gasp. That’s right, he isn’t alone in this place. They don’t matter. The sword keeps coming, sliding out of its home in the pedestal. Muscle memory he doesn’t remember makes him flip the point of the blade skyward, still in his two hands. He brings the flat of the blade to his forehead, reveling in a sacred moment. He takes in a soft, fluttery breath and finally opens his eyes, catching their reflection in the metal. Oh, now what? As simple as that and everything changes.Is his nose bleeding now? Link collapses. It sounds so easy.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zelda settles her desk in her office, waiting for this mysterious man who had drawn the Sword that Seals the Darkness to be formally presented. She tidies a few loose papers, slips a quill into a drawer, and finally folds her hands together and watches the door expectantly.The past two days were a whirlwind for her. She'd pulled every advisor she had and put them to interviewing anyone who had so much as crossed paths with this Link. The dive had been as deep as it was speedy. She woke up to briefings about his history and started to form a picture about who he was.The son of a Hateno horse breeder, he had come to Castletown to join the military when he wasn’t quite seventeen. His career had been fairly unremarkable, save the day he put himself in front of a moblin. To be fair, she muses, the kingdom is at peace. He broke a leg in that encounter, mostly ending the rest of his active duty. He did a tour in Lurelin for a few years and most recently, was serving as a teacher back at the Academy. He seemed pretty unremarkable in that role, as well.His commanding officers thought well of him, at least. He was loyal. He worked hard. He was reliable. He was utterly ordinary three days ago.She has a list of bullet points about him in front of her, and she scans them one more time.He had an older brother who was married and had a son. His parents were still alive, but he did not seem to be very close to them. At least, he’d last been home to nurse his broken leg. His list of known associates was more interesting. He seemed to couple up with some woman each time he shifted assignments and ended them when he moved on. It didn’t seem to take him long to find someone willing to spend time with him. He even seemed to have partners in places he passed through frequently. Yet he’d never asked one to move with him, or offered anyone a ring. His past romances remembered him with passing fondness or indifference, with a few exceptions that he seemed to have struck a deeper chord with. He had not sired any offspring anyone was aware of.His last known paramour had been discovered by Impa. Peatrice, the head reference librarian in the Castle library. Impa didn’t seem to think that relationship was much longer for the world based on Peatrice’s reaction to the news about her lover. She certainly hadn’t tried to see him.The knock on her door pulls her from her reverie, and she straightens up. “Come.”The Royal Guardsman enters and offers a quick bow. “Your majesty, I present Link, appointed knight of the realm, bearer of the Master Sword.”She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but she felt underwhelmed. He looked to be her height with a slim, athletic build. His blonde ponytail had probably been platinum when he was young, but age has darkened it. There was even a sprinkle of gray on top of his head. He seems to limp just a little on the left. The man is out of uniform, too, in khaki pants with tall boots and a green tunic. He had belted the sword across his back, hilt jutting above his right shoulder, end of the blue and gold scabbard by his left hip. He stands squarely before her, hands at his sides. Their eyes briefly meet before he seems to remember where he is. He drops to one knee, bowing his head. “Rise.”Link stands to attention, arms falling back to his side as he meets her gaze again.“Tell me, Link, about that sword on your back. How did you come by it?” Zelda opens, her voice as warm as she can make it.“I pulled it from its pedestal in the Temple of Time.”She stares straight through him. He stares back. This is not going well.“Your majesty, I have no more to say. I pulled on it. It came free.”They consider each other again. She decides to try a different tact. “It is said the sword speaks to its bearer. That the chosen hero who pulls the sword from its home remembers all who have held it before him. Is this true?”He draws a breath. He closes his eyes and lets it stutter out. He seems momentarily unmoored in himself. His face tips toward the ceiling, and she wonders if he might drop to the floor. She calls him back to the present.“It is best if you are honest. This is an unusual situation. For me, too.”He opens his eyes for a second and then raises them to her again. “Yes, it speaks. It is eager to get to work, though it won’t tell me what that work is. And yes, my head is full of memories that are not mine. It is better than when I first claimed the sword but it is work to stay on top.”Something about the slightly overwhelmed look to him softens her. Her gut recognizes him for who he is, as hard as it seemed to believe given what was before her. She had spent her childhood and teen years preparing for him to arrive, and he never did. He was supposed to be bold and dashing and maybe a little chaotic. He should not be forty-two, limping a little, and out of his depth like this. This was what she had to work with.She felt sorry for him.The queen lowers her tone, speaking kindly. “We have work to do, then.” Zelda finally dismisses him at dinner time. She spent the entire afternoon reviewing his record and asking him questions. He was not particularly forthcoming and seemed constantly a little off balance during the interview. He left looking even more lost, if that was possible, than he had at the start. Impa was waiting for her in her private dining room, a glass of wine ready. Zelda takes the glass and a generous swallow of the dry Necluda white, hefting a sigh.“How’d it go?” asks Impa. Zelda taps her fingers against her glass and turns away, sudden emotion churning as she considers the question. “I don’t know. It could have been better. I don’t. I don’t understand why. It might be better if it was him.” She hears her voice thicken and attempts to hide it with another sip of wine.“It would not be better.” Impa sounds confident, at least. “The history you two had… It would be poison if you work together. Moot point, anyway.”Zelda slowly shakes her head. “I do not think he has this in him. I would be better served with a sixteen year old hero.” Nayru, Din and Farore. Farore. What were you thinking?“That’s younger than Marrin and Colin,” Impa names Zelda’s sons. “Would you really want a child in this role? I don’t think you would tolerate a teenager putting himself between you and whatever the end game is.”Impa is probably right, Zelda reflects. Impa is often right. But couldn’t he have at least looked the part? Been taller or broader across his shoulder, or at least battle-tried?Though she isn’t battle-tried, either, maybe that isn’t fair. “I don’t want to think about this right now. Let’s eat.” A day later, he is back in her office, at his request. Zelda likes her office. It is formal and private and she chose it for official meetings after the death of the king. He sits awkwardly in a straight-backed chair before her, hands clasped together in his lap, hunching slightly forward. His eyes are more lost than yesterday.“How can I help you?” she asks.“I need guidance. I do not know what to do with this obligation. I do not know if I can do whatever it is that is required of me.”Well.She is silent for a minute, turning this over. How much worse was this going to get, she wonders. “I do not think you have a choice.”“This has always been a thing for younger people. Much younger. My prime has come and gone.”She folds her hands in front of her and considers him. He doesn’t really have a choice - it’s not like he can just put the sword back at this point. He might be very ordinary, but he must be more than he seems. She knows she won’t convince him of that with mere words.“You do not get to make that choice,” she starts slowly. “It appears that the hero and the incarnation of the goddess are meant to be contemporaries. You are older because I am older. There is currently no Princess Zelda, and the next one will be my granddaughter as I am past more children, even if the king were still with us,” She leans forward a bit and softens her voice. “I know it does not seem fair, to pull you from the place you thought you belonged and force a new world on you. This sort of thing happens all the time, especially as we get older, if you think about it. Loved ones die, for example, even long before you think that might be a possibility. Your world has changed and you can’t go back, but it was going to do that eventually anyway.“I did not expect this call at this time, either, but I have to believe that I am prepared or I would not have been called. This has to be true for you, as well, even if you don’t see the potential.“ She reaches across her desk and puts a hand over his. “This is a thing you may have wanted when you were younger, and it’s rare to have that sort of opportunity. Embrace it. It is what it is.”She sits back, watching him. He stares hard but is otherwise unreadable. Silence lingers for a long moment. “I realize, Your Majesty, that you have plans for some sort of training for me since my circumstances have changed,” he suddenly starts. “I would like to ask for some leave. I have not seen my family in some time and I do not think this… obligation will leave me with much leisure time.”“Of course. However… if part of your plan is to try and rekindle some past romance, I’d ask you to reconsider. For now, at least. This is a lot for you. Don’t complicate it more.”He takes his hand back and says nothing. His stony look did not change. What is going on behind that visage?“You do understand you have been quite the subject of discussion the past few days? Your commanding officers speak highly of you. We are going to be working closely and neither of us can be distracted.”“I would like to go now.”She sighs. “As you wish.”Once he is gone, she sends a summons for Impa.
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Two days after pulling a holy artifact from the pedestal it slept in, Link is at Hyrule castle thinking hard about his current state of affairs. It is not his first time to the castle, though he has never been in the inner chambers of the royal family, awaiting an audience with the queen to discuss this turn in developments. He does not believe he will have anything intelligent to discuss. The sword sits on his back. If he turns his head over his right shoulder a little, he can see that cobalt blue handle with its oddly flipped crossguard. There is an ongoing churn in the back of his head, but he can mostly ignore it. He has to; the flow of it would take him over, and it’s not just stories. It is memories. A wreck of a temple sitting in the middle of a lake, the moon falling from the sky, an endless ocean, a broken mirror… it is too much. Why were they all so young? It is always young people, why is he so... old?He tries to refocus on the upcoming audience. He has seen Queen Zelda before, of course, but it had been across a large room. She’d still been a princess back then. Nothing exciting had happened. They’d just been in a room together. Hadn’t even met. He wasn’t even sure why he had been there anymore. And yet... if the stories and memories actually were true, then they were parts of the same puzzle. They are meant to work together. Fate and all. There is still no sign of whatever mortal danger was on the rise, though. What is coming that required the sword to call its master?Link turns to glance at the hilt, wondering what it knows. “Why not when I was sixteen?” he whispers.
you were not ready yet, and there was no need
The sword doesn’t speak in words, not exactly. It is like having a thought- but it’s not his thought. “Why now?”
What makes me worthy now?
No answer, but not silence. The churn roils up. A wolf with a leg iron, a reddish brown horse with feathered legs, a huge crimson bird and the sensation of falling, falling- he grips the edge of his chair, trying to focus on something, anything before he loses himself. Why now?Goddesses, if only he’d just married the girl on the beach, maybe things would be different now.The door swings open. A royal guard captain. Link suspects they had been classmates many years ago; the man is passingly familiar, but Link doesn’t know his name. He meets the guard’s eyes and rises, giving his baldric a tug to shift the sword into a more comfortable position on his back. The guard’s eyes flick to that cobalt blue handle and then back to Link’s eyes. “Come.” It is not a request. Link squares his shoulders and follows, hoping he is ready for this.
Afterwards, Link sits on his bed, with that sword out of its scabbard and laid across his lap. He hasn’t been able to sleep well since the night they camped out by the Temple of Time. He, oddly enough, isn’t very tired, either. He thought he had things figured out. He knew where his next step would land. He thought he knew, at least. The idea that he had less control over his own destiny than he believed…he shakes his head violently to dispel the thought.No one gets to choose their fate. You can make decisions that change the general shape of their path, of course. But there are outside forces, events that you play no role in that set you on that path in the first place. You work in the world you have, thinking you are in charge of your own destiny, but really, you’re not.Maybe, he thinks, it’s always young people because they haven’t had time to create themselves yet. They are still blank slates. When a role is thrust upon them, they have the room for it because there is little to replace. It is different when you go through thirty, forty years of life thinking you know how things work only to have everything turn on its head when some magic sword decides to drop in and say surprise! This is how things will be now- and you have to accept it. The Triforce is embossed on the blade and he traces it, thinking about what it symbolized. Power. Wisdom. Courage. The hero is supposed to be the incarnation of courage. He doesn’t feel very brave. He isn’t sure what he feels. His meeting with the queen had been a review of his record; respectable enough without being overly remarkable, he felt. The high point had also been a low point. The day with the moblins.He’d been riding on patrol in the woods around Hateno when they stumbled on a group of moblins. He heard them before seeing them. Fast thinking and faster riding had allowed him to save the life of his commander, who had not realized he was directly in line with one of the beasts. Link managed to get between them and shield his commander. His horse hadn’t been so lucky. It took a dragonbone club to the head. The horse dropped immediately, and he’d been thrown, breaking his left leg in the fall. The pain had been immediate and white hot, but at least the horse hadn’t landed on top of him. He ended up recovering at home, his mother asking pointed questions about when he was going to retire. He’d gotten a commendation for bravery and was ready to get back to work once he’d healed. Eager, even. Hateno had gotten too small for him. The queen had also known a disturbing amount about his personal life. He had not realized anyone had been paying that much attention. She knew about Celia in the fishing village, and Peatrice the reference librarian, and a number of names before them. He wonders if Her Majesty knew Peatrice had somehow heard about the sword and left a letter for him before he’d even gotten back from the plateau, asking him to forget her. He sighs. He’d been to the library. She wouldn’t see him.But the queen knew his family, too, and commented on the quality of the horses they bred back in Hateno. She knew his brother, his sister-in-law, and his nephew. His entire family…. Has he seen his family since the day with the moblins? Surely he had. Right? He furrows his brow, trying to remember. The triangle representing Courage sat on the right of the base of the Ttriforce. He slides his finger to the triangle on its left. That one is Wisdom, and he could use some right now.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Five days after his last trip to the Temple of Time, he is on a borrowed bay gelding named Sam and heading to Hateno town, where his parents still live. He could not remember the last time he’d seen them - he just hadn’t prioritized his leave. Now things are different. It is a few days' ride, but Sam has a comfortable gait, and is fit enough to go all day. Once out of the view of Castletown, he clucks the horse to a steady canter and lets the road roll away.You can’t just let your mind wander completely on the back of a cantering horse, even on the road. You still need to watch for a rock that might cause a bruise, or a hole that would end your entire ride and maybe you, too. Horses are prey animals, and they react to things they don’t understand. You always need to be ready for a sudden spook or to slow and calm your mount. Riding is a working partnership, not mindless.This is fine with Link, because being totally alone with his thoughts and whatever else was going on inside his head this week is not an idea he favored. So he scans the road for ruts, or traffic, or potentially scary things, staying actively above the churn. It would all come back when he stopped for the night. After the horse is hobbled and its girth loosened, bridle removed to allow for grazing unfettered, there is time to turn things over. He usually likes letting his mind wander while setting the saddle pad out to air and dry for the next day, rubbing his horse down, making a fire and getting ready to settle down. It is usually something meditative and calming and he enjoys the chores to keep his mount comfortable and healthy. There is just too much bubbling under the surface now for meditation. Far too much time to be in his head alone with nothing to do. The churn has settled down to rapids, though it is still white water, but not nearly as unpredictable. Things he doesn’t understand still rise to the surface. He is woefully unaware of the details of the stories of those who wielded that sword in the past. He'd figured out the big red bird with the terrifying beak belonged to the first one, and that bird had evolved into the wings of the Hyrule crest, but not why a bird in the first place. There are so many other images that make no sense and he is not sure how much he is to make of them. He feared getting lost in them. He might not come back. His older brother has always been interested in the stories about the Hero of Hyrule, and it is a hobby of his to study them. He’d given the sword a pull, just once, but was content to take on the family business raising horses, and saved researching the hero to his spare time. Link had too much wanderlust to be contained to Hateno, and that trip out to the Temple of Time had ended with him joining the military. His mother hadn’t been happy with that decision.His father hadn’t bothered to offer an opinion then.Three days on the road and he jogs the gelding through the arch marking the entrance to Hateno, sun growing low in the sky. He had taken a minute to roll the sword into his bedroll before entering town. It’s a small village at the far corner of Hyrule and visitors get noticed. Returning sons, more so. He could not imagine showing up with a legendary sword on his back. Maybe, he muses, slowing the horse to a walk, I’ve seen everything and ended up with nothing but this sword on my back. There had been so much time until there wasn’t.
You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?
He frowns. Flotsam from the white water. But.Maybe?“Uncle Link?”He turns to the voice...when was the last time he had seen his nephew anyway? He smiles, finally feeling like something is right. “Hey, Kobin.”Kobin smiles back. He is what, ten, now? Twelve? “Dad said next year you can take me to see the sword.”Wow. “Oh, I don’t think I’m doing that next year. Where is your dad, anyway?” His older brother, Kagun, welcomes him warmly. His sister in law, Taphea, sets an extra place at the table for dinner. The horse is settled into an open stall in their father’s barn. Link begged for a delay in visiting his parents until the next day. He had something important to tell everyone, but tonight he just wanted dinner and a solid rest before sharing his news. Kagun agrees a little reluctantly, pointing out that their father would see the horse bearing castle brands in the morning and figure things out.“How is the old man?” asks Link, wiping the last of the stew off his plate with a piece of bread. “He still loves horses and mom and not a whole lot else. Well, he loves his grandson.” Kagun places a hand on Kobin’s head, and the boy shakes him off. “This child gets away with things we definitely did not.”“Tough as ever, then.” “I know you two have your differences, Link. He does miss you, even if he doesn’t show it very well.”Link gives a noncommittal grunt. “Dinner was excellent, Taph, thank you. I might turn in early.”“Take Kobin’s bed, he can sleep with us tonight. Rest up, ok?”When Link wakes, it is still dark, and his head is full of odd images again. He silently steals from his nephew’s bed and out of the house, where he sits and watches the sun come up on a hilltop. The back of his right hand itches and he absently rubs at it, the sensation anchoring his mind as he rides out the confusion. The sky had gone from gold and pink to blue before he stands and returns to the house. The smell of coffee brewing welcomes him as he enters.“Hey, Link, I didn’t hear you get up.” Taphea greets him with a kiss on the cheek. “Coffee will be up soon.”She pauses before asking, “Who’s Midna?”He blinks. “I...I have no idea,” he starts, baffled. “...why?”“You were calling out to them in your sleep. I wasn’t sure if that’s what you came to Hateno to tell us about…?” Her voice rises. Taphea was always hoping to help plan Link’s wedding. Kagun emerges from the back room to interrupt. “Midna was the name of the princess from the Twilight Realm, in one of the stories about the hero. It’s said she traveled with him, and he sometimes took the form of a blue-eyed wolf. After he saved Hyrule, she went back to the Ttwilight Realm and no one is sure what happened to him.” He meets Link’s eye and grins. “Only a matter of time before you got some princess in your bed, right?”Taphea gives Kagun a light smack to his shoulder as Link furrows his brow. He’s definitely seen a wolf in his mind, but no princesses of any sort. Was the wolf blue-eyed? Maybe that would come later. Did the hero have time for things like princesses? “If that’s so, then maybe it is what I came to talk about. Let me show you something.”He retrieves the sword in the bedroom from under his nephew’s bed, unwraps and then lays it on the dining table. His brother does a hard double take at the blue and gold scabbard. “Is that real?”“Oh, it’s real,” Link whispers.Kagun approaches the table slowly, eyes on the sword. Taphea stands, slightly wide-eyed, and watches her husband a moment before calling for Kobin and shooing him out the back door. “Can you take it out of the scabbard?” asks Kagun. “Only you can handle it, right?”“I’m not actually sure about that, but no one else really wants to touch it.” He grasps the hilt, a thrilled prickle running up his arm, and draws the sword, laying it back to rest next to its scabbard. It really is a beautiful thing, thinks Link. The hilt is cobalt blue; it sparkles when it catches the light. There’s a pair deep green stripes wrapped around the hilt, crisscrossed like a ribbon. A gold filigree decorates where the handle joins the blade. The blade itself flares out in a squared diamond that serves as the place for the Triforce to be embossed before the business part of the blade starts, both long sides beveled to an edge. It might be made of steel, but it’s steel folded with magic; and it gives the metal something to its finish that is otherworldly. Divine. Sacred. Kagun takes a deep breath and slowly reaches to touch the hilt. He stops himself an inch away and chuckles. “Prickly. Oh no, Link. That is definitely your sword.”Link turns to his brother. “I need you to tell me whatever you can about it and those who had it before me. I think I have their memories of their time with this blade, but it’s a terrible jumble and they step on each other. I don’t know who Midna is, but I have seen a wolf in my head. And so many other things. I need some perspective.“And then I need to go talk to Mom and Dad about this.”He rubs the back of his right hand again.Hours later, Link has the sword across his lap; and he absently traces the Triforce on the blade, not really paying attention to what he is doing. The table is covered with books and papers; and his brother leans forward, elbows on the table.“You should think of it like this, Link. Every choice you have made to this point has led you here to that sword. Trials are not always battle. Fighting doesn't always make you great, or brave, or at least it’s not the only thing. Being worthy isn’t just combat, do you understand what I am saying? None of them set out to be a hero; they all found the path on their own. Just like you.”His brother has always been the smart one; it’s why he came to him first. “The sword doesn’t pick the wrong person, Link.” He reaches across the table to squeeze his younger brother’s shoulder, and Link meets his eyes through his bangs. Then the front door swings open, and their father’s voice calls out, “Kagun, is Link here? I saw the horse in the stable with the castle brand; did you think you were going to distract me from that all day with Kobin?”Kagun and Link maintain eye contact a moment longer and Kagun answers, “In the common room, dad; yes, Link is here.”The older man strides into the room, finding his two sons at the table strewn with open books and stacks of paper, Link sitting and slightly hunched over, Kagun standing with his hands on the table top. They both look oh-so-slightly guilty about something. “What are you two doing? Link, did you think you would just sneak into town and we wouldn’t know?”Link flicks his eyes to his older brother and then speaks. “No, dad; I’m sorry, but I had to talk to Kagun first about this.” He pulls the sword off his lap and sets it on the table.His father shakes his head, exasperated. “You’re the soldier, Link, why does your brother need to weigh in on a sword before you visit your parents?”“Dad.” Kagun’s voice is soft. “It’s the Master Sword. It came out of the pedestal for him.”“Ridiculous. That’s just a story. I don’t know what you two are up to, but you’re both too old for this foolishness. Come, Link, your mother needs to see you.” The old man gives Link a stern look. There would be no further argument. Link takes the sword and slides it back into the blue and gold scabbard, buckling the baldric on. His brother gives his shoulder another squeeze as he stands and follows his father out of the house.Link had gotten his blonde hair and many of his features from his father, but his height and frame favored his mother. His father is big and loud, and towers over him. Link was a little frightened of him as a child; he suspects a small part of him always will be. “Really, son, what’s with the surprise visit and you don’t stop in to see us first?” The house isn’t far, and his father sets a brisk pace. Link takes big strides to keep up, suddenly conscious of his limp.“I was coming to the house today. I really did need to discuss that sword with Kagun, you know it’s been a hobby of sorts for him. I can’t say I really paid attention to stories about the hero, even though I share a name.”“I never understood his obsession with those stories, frankly. Waste of time.” Link stops. “Dad, you have to listen to me. I don’t think they are just stories. I pulled the sword out of the pedestal in the Temple of Time a week ago and... everything is different now.” He lets his mind wander back to the stream of memories for guidance, but if past wielders of the blade had this sort of discussion with family, they are silent on the topic. “I met with the queen three days ago. Twice. I’m here to bring this news myself instead of having the Hyrule royal guard at your door. This thing is real.” His tone turns to a plea. “It’s real, Dad. I don’t know what to do.”His father says nothing, but stops and turns to face him. Link thinks it might be easier to have this discussion with a moblin. “It’s real, Dad. I don’t know what’s coming and I don’t know if I’ll come back from it. I came to tell you myself; please listen.”“Let’s get to your mother.” Another shake of his head and the old man is off; Link trails in his wake, marveling over how his father can still make him feel small and helpless.A few minutes later, they are at the house where Link grew up. He notes an addition to the barn in the back, and a pair of mares and their foals graze in the paddock next to the house. His father opens the door and calls, “Toshia, come here, we have a visitor,” He motions Link into the entryway.The decor hasn’t changed since he’d left home. Maybe there is a new rug in the entryway. He catches his mother’s eyes as she comes in from the kitchen. “Hi, Mom.”“OH!” She closes the distance quickly, sweeping him into a hug. “It’s so good to see you, it’s been too long, Link, are you finally done being a soldier? Are you coming home?”Nothing about this is going to be easy, is it?“No, Mom. I’m only here a day or two. I need to tell you something.”Later that night, he is back at his brother’s house, sitting on the front porch in silence with Kagun. He'd skipped dinner, but did take a cup of wine Taphea offered. It sits next to him, untouched. It had not gone well. While his father still seemed to think this was some prank, his mother went to the other extreme and appeared ready to mourn him, once she’d grasped what he was telling her. It ended with his father abruptly and loudly telling him to leave, he’d done enough. And to not come back until he was done with this nonsense.
Don’t come back.
“Maybe they shouldn’t have named me Link,” he finally says, frustrated. He can hear his father’s voice in his head. Don’t come back.“It was a popular name in the years around your birth. There was a Princess Zelda in the castle; who doesn’t want to have a hero in the family? Don’t you remember - there was an older kid in Hateno named Link, too.”“I know, there was always another Link at the military school.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Everyone likes the idea of a ‘chosen hero’, no one likes the reality.”“What’s the reality?”“Everything changes and you can’t go back.”“Give them more time. They love you.”Link whispers, “He told me to not come back.”Home is supposed to be a soft place to fall. It had been before, even though his father was so unrelenting. Link didn’t understand why it wasn’t now, when he needed it so much. Emotion he can not name brimmed in him and threatened to leak out his eyes. “I’m riding to Lurelin in the morning. Thank you, Kagun, for the history lessons and letting me stay.”Kagun slings his arm across his shoulder and squeezes. “I love you, Link. It will be okay. The sword doesn’t pick wrong. Whatever is before you, you can do it.”
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Ten days after drawing a legendary sword from a stone at the Temple of Time, he is riding out from Hateno and heading south toward the fishing village of Lurelin. He has good memories of the place, and maybe that is where he could make sense of everything and move on. The white water in the back of his head continues to calm and he feels he could navigate it better, though things still come up from its depths from time to time. At least it is just memories, not other personalities sharing his mind. Memories centered on the sword - from the time it was picked up, until the hero placed it back in its pedestal.Though not all of them had been able to put it back. He cannot remember ever hearing a story about a hero who had fallen and not gotten back up. His brother said something about a fallen hero, but didn’t have details. It seemed to happen sometimes, and some other soul placed the blade back where it waited for the next chosen one to arrive. He ponders these fallen. Why were there no stories about them? Did someone else get the sword after that and use it for its intended purpose? Did the sword just swap its loyalties when its chosen died? Is the sword a tool, or does it have its own ambitions? He thinks he hears a hum from the blade, as though it is gently reminding him it was there.What about those who survived? What happened to them after they put the sword back? Did they just go back to where they came from? How could they? He found it hard to stay in Hateno for more than four days and he had only been a soldier before. What would happen to him, when this was over? Would he put the sword back in the Temple of Time?So many questions. He clucks Sam to a gallop. He is up early the next morning, feeling a little creaky after sleeping on the ground. He definitely prefers a bed as he gets older. His mind wanders back to Hateno as he nurses a cup of tea in front of his fire. Maybe he’d get a late start and take his time today. He sighs, and his eyes catch on the blue and gold scabbard. He still likes to go through fighting forms with live steel a couple times a week. He probably isn’t as polished as he had been, but he likes to keep his skills up. And he has not had time to swing this new blade since acquiring it. He should get to know this new partner. Finished with breakfast, he picks up the sword and found a bit of level ground to work on. Stretching a bit to loosen up, he gives the Master Sword a big, flowing swing to get a feel for it. It surprises him how well-balanced it feels. It’s perfect, actually. Like it had been forged just for him. It feels like a very old friend. He works through his forms, losing himself in the motion, the world shrinking to just him and the blade. Working up a sweat, he finally takes a break, flipping the point of the blade upward and catching his reflection on the steel. He looks into his own eyes and ponders his current circumstance. Who are you now? Who are you becoming?It is the motion on the periphery of his vision that breaks his reverie. Sam throws his head up, eyes rolling. He startles upward, trying to bolt, but is thwarted by the hobbles he still wore. Nostrils flared, Sam gives a deep snort of fear.And then Link hears it. He must have been deep in his own head to have not noticed it crashing through the woods before. Moblins are a lot of things, but they are not stealthy. He turns his head to take the creature in, trying to decide if it was worth taking it on versus just letting it take the horse, but he still has to pack up camp and he has a long journey in front of him and it is going to be much slower going without that horse and wait was it silver?He’s never seen a silver moblin before. Didn’t know anyone who had! He’d assumed they were just made up to keep children out of the woods. But he’s never seen one that was white with purple-black stripes. They are supposed to be a magnitude tougher than the black ones, for Hylia’s sake, and here it is, hunting his horse in front of him. He suddenly decides he needs that horse. He yells to draw its attention away.“HYAH!”The beast stops in its tracks, swinging its big stupid head back and forth, trying to find the source of the sound. Link yells again and it turns to him with a roar that shakes the trees. It's carrying a big dragonbone club. Link has never been sure if these clubs are actual dragon bone - that’s another creature he’s never seen and thought mythical - but they definitely have some sort of bone on the business end. And they can definitely kill a horse in a single blow.The moblin stomps toward him and Link realizes he is only armed with the sword. No shield. Just 26 years of experience and the Blade of Evil’s Bane. He drops into a ready stance, focused on the moblin’s eyes, and takes a deep breath. From here, he is relying on reflex and muscle memory. The moblin stands before him, throws its arms back, and roars before swinging that big black club. Link steps back and hears the club cut the air before him, but it doesn’t touch him. Moblins have too much follow through on their swings and he takes advantage, swinging the sword at the creature’s weapon arm. It connects, blade biting deep, and the sensation is like nothing Link has felt before. There’s a thrum through his arm, as though the sword has woken up for battle. He thinks of swordplay like a dance, but he’s never had a partner like this. He pulls the blade free, moblin screaming in pain, and it turns to face him again. This time, he’s a little too close when the swing comes. He throws himself backwards, waiting for the club to connect, but somehow has managed to flip, with the club passing under him. Time seems to slow; when his feet hit the ground he rushes his opening and ends the silver moblin in a furious collection of blows. He stands over the creature’s body, panting, hands on his thighs, sword still thrumming in his right hand, and not sure of exactly what just happened. The back of his sword hand erupts in fire; maybe he had been injured after all and adrenaline covered it. He drops the sword to examine his wound, and what he finds is the symbol of the Triforce glowing under his skin, that bottom right triangle standing out. He grasps his right wrist and drops to a squat, staring at the back of his hand in wonder peppered with fear. What did it mean - was he still himself? What does it mean?It’s later. He is unsure how much later, but later than he wanted to break camp. Sam had gotten surprisingly far away in his hobbles and was shaking and sweaty when Link located him. He spoke in low, soothing tones as he approached, bridle in hand. He placed a hand on Sam’s withers and gave a deep rub with his knuckles. When the horse turned his head to him, he leaned forward to blow a breath into its nostril, greeting the gelding as Sam greeted other horses. Slowly, quietly he slipped the reins over Sam’s head and the bridle over his ears, sliding the bit into his mouth. Keeping a hand on the rein, Link slowly ran his hand down the horse’s left foreleg and unbuckled the hobbles, and they walked back to camp. Like all castle horses, Sam knows how to ground tie, so Link drops the reins to the ground while breaking camp. It’s time to be back on the road. It is after noon when he finally puts his foot in the stirrup and swings aboard his mount. The morning has been rough on them both, so he doesn’t push for more than a good, ground-covering walk. He needs some time to think over the past day. Has it only been a day?He reviews the combat with the moblin. That had been some very fine fighting. He felled a silver moblin without a scratch to show for it. He didn’t know of anyone else who could say that. He smiles to himself at the thought and immediately wishes his father could have seen it, because maybe he’d see the man Link was instead of the kid he had been….Oh.Oh, wait.
Don’t come back.
He sits up in the saddle and closes his fingers, bringing the horse to a halt. Link carefully turns his thoughts over. How did his father see him? Was he always going to be the one who left home as soon as he could? He had only been home to nurse a fractured leg and to carry on about a magic sword; could he ever be seen for what else he was?What else was he?This line of thinking seems both fragile and dangerously sharp, a glass sphere made of shards. He is not sure he was ready to cut himself on it. Better to think about what laid ahead. Lurelin. And Celia. He clucks to the horse to move off again.Lurelin is a quiet fishing village, set on a sandy shoal. It’s easily one of the most beautiful places in Hyrule, making it a popular destination for those with the means to take an extended holiday. The kingdom keeps a small barrack there, to keep an eye. It’s a plum assignment, and Link had been fortunate to land it after the accident with the moblins. It had been three wonderful years, enjoying the sunshine and the warmth, as well as the slower pace. The water is crystal clear, showing off its reefs and fish even from the surface. It was easy to fall in love with the place. He’d met Celia the first week he’d been on assignment and he’d felt sparks immediately. Lurelin was a pleasant place to spend time with someone; it was easy to forget there was anything outside its bubble. But those sparks… She accepted his invitation to take a walk on the beach, late one afternoon. He could not remember what they talked about as they slowly wandered the shoreline, as he was lost in how the light looked on her long, auburn hair and how her green eyes sparkled when she smiled. At some point she slipped her hand into his and his heart fluttered. The start of things was always amazing, he'd thought, and this one in particular was wonderful.They ended up sitting in the sand above the tide line, watching the sun slowly set, fingers still entwined and inching closer to each other until her right hip was against his left. She’d leaned into him, and he dropped her hand to stretch his arm across her back, resting his hand at her waist, time stopping for just a minute. He turned to face her and she was looking up at him. Her eyes were so green and the water crashed onto the beach below them, and then his mouth was on hers. She tasted like mangoes. Her hands ended up in his hair and she pushed him back onto the sand without breaking the kiss. He could still hear the waves roll, and gulls call as the sky slowly darkened around them, no one else in the world. He had made it back to his barracks right before curfew. It had just been kissing that evening, mostly. Mostly. He’d felt maybe more undone than he appeared; heart thumping, sand in his hair, the taste of her in his mouth. He didn’t sleep well that night. It was a good sort of not sleeping. He still gets a flutter when he recalls that evening on the beach. There had been so much to love about Lurelin.
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Two weeks after claiming a sword said to be crafted by Hylia herself, and just before sunset, he arrives in Lurelin. He passes Sam to the stable master before checking into the barrack for a bed for the night. His comrades welcome him, though maybe not as warmly as they might have if he hadn't been packing the sword. Their words were for him, but they kept flicking eyes to that cobalt blue hilt with the odd crossguard, and he knew no one would stay up socializing with him. He turns in early, frustrated, and thought back to when he’d been stationed there.Not much happens in Lurelin that needs the military; at the end of his three years, he’d been ready when it was suggested that maybe he’d be a good instructor back at the academy. He’d seen his share of what went for action these days, he’d been skilled with a blade when he was younger and he was analytical enough to teach. It seemed ideal. He had no regrets until recently. He remembered excitedly telling Celia the news. She hadn’t seemed as excited as he was. “That means you’re going back to the castle, then? What happens to us?”“Well, yes, the academy is at the castle, so that is where I would be.”She said nothing, but took her hands from his.“Uh,” he started. “Lots of knights have girlfriends or families in Castletown. If you wanted to come?”“Are you proposing we start a family, then?”And oh, no, he was not ready for anything like that. The discussion deteriorated until she was in tears and he was holding her, feeling confused. When had she decided she wanted to have a family? They’d never had that discussion; it wasn’t one he typically had. He was military and he’d be moving on, and his partners seemed to accept that. They decided to discuss it later, but never really did. Once he had settled back at Castletown, they had exchanged letters, though the time between them slowly grew longer. They'd stopped shortly after he’d met that reference librarian, actually. No worries, though - he often lost track of people.He still thought back fondly to his time in Lurelin, and the girl with the long auburn hair he’d spent it with. He hoped she felt the same, and imagined embracing her tomorrow and sweeping her off her feet. He fell asleep thinking about how nice it would be to go for a walk with her on the beach at sunset tomorrow. Celia had run a general store when he’d been stationed in Lurelin, and a little gentle poking about told him she still did. Though.The stable master was the same man who’d been managing the horses when Link had been stationed in Lurelin. When Link asked about who was running the store, the answer he’d gotten seemed odd. “Didn’t you used to go with that girl or something? Maybe you should shop somewhere else.”He hadn’t pressed the issue. But he did wonder what that meant. It is mid-afternoon by the time he wanders to her store. He pauses outside its door, a little flush of anxiety giving his heart rate a bump. What was that about? He knew her, she knew him. They had been very close, right? He pushes the door open and steps inside. She is behind the counter, back to him. He feels a flutter of pleasure at seeing her and calls to her. “Celia!”She turns her head at the sound of her name. “Link?”She turns to face him and he smiles at her, warm and happy to see her. He takes her in for a moment - her auburn hair cut shorter than he remembered, her eyes still so, so green, and it seems to him that she was awfully pregnant... and is that a gold band on her left hand? It is, isn’t it? There is a moment where things seem to stop, and he puts this information together and realizes that the time for him to seriously court that girl in the fishing village on the beach is gone. The smile freezes on his face. Maybe you should shop somewhere else. Oh goddesses.“Ah, hi,” oh oh this is a mistake.“Hello,” her tone is neutral and she meets his eyes. “What are you doing here, Link?”“Uh, I was, um, passing through, and I ahhh... thought I’d come see you.” He can feel sweat on the back of his neck.“You thought you’d come see me.” She sounds mildly amused. Yes. Amused. “Why? Why are you here?” Oh no, not amused at all.He is out of words for this. It would be ok if the ground opened under him and took him whole, but that is probably too much to hope for. The silence grows uncomfortably long. She finally breaks it. “Did you really think you’d just show up and, I don’t know, bed me and what?” Her voice rises, a little angry. “I haven’t heard from you in years, Link. Did you think I’d just wait for you? Am I to think you have been chaste since you left?”He feels the flush to the tips of his ears, thinking of that librarian at the castle. She laughed, “Yeah, I didn’t think so. You weren’t ever really serious, Link. That’s fine. We had fun. But it’s long over.” She rests a hand on her belly. “Long over. And you should go.” He takes a walk down the beach after that, eventually stopping to pull off his boots and walk barefoot on the sand just below the tide line. After a while he stops and looks out across the water, letting his thoughts float on the ambient sounds of seagulls and terns calling overhead, waves rolling up to the shore. He feels bruised by the encounter. Replaced. Maybe a little quickly, too. Had she moved on immediately? He is so confused by the swirl of emotion he is feeling. He thinks about Peatrice again - she hadn’t even given him a chance to say anything, gone as soon as she’d heard what had gone on at the Temple of Time. He drops to the sand and lays on his back, hands over his eyes. When had everything turned into such a disaster? Had he loved Celia? Really? He isn’t sure. He’d thought he had. As much, maybe, as anyone else in his life, though not enough to want to be moored in place. What if he had been fine with being moored? He picks at this idea, finding tender spots, and places where it would bleed.The sun sinks in the sky, and he decides this sunset is better viewed from the porch on the barracks and walks back. He finds a chair, unbuckles the baldric and takes the sword off his back so he can lean back and look out across the water, still turning over the encounter with Celia. Such a disaster.He should have told the castle no when they asked him back. He could have stayed here and Celia’s children could have been his, too. He has no idea why being a husband and father sounds so desirable right now, but it seems like something he suddenly wants. He can’t remember why going back to the castle then had been the more interesting option. If he’d just stayed, he muses, he would have never been in the Temple of Time and some other soul would be dealing with the fate of Hyrule right now. Maybe someone without his mess of a personal life.
The flow of time is always cruel…
He furrows his brow at that. He has no idea what the context is or whose life that came from, but he does not appreciate the commentary.“I heard you were back in town. Link, you always liked a stout, if I recall.” A tankard full of a dark liquid appears at the table next to him and Mikal settles into a chair on the other side. “You also look like you could use a friend about now.”Link smiles a little and takes the tankard. “Thanks, Mik, I could use both.”Mikal is the quartermaster at Lurelin, and one of the first people he had met when he had first arrived. The two had been fast friends. Link reflects, a little darkly, that Mikal didn’t seem to care that they had not spoken in years. The two men sit in silence, watching the sun slide into the water, turning it red. “Rupee for your thoughts, Link.”He sighs and closes his eyes, and when he starts to talk, everything spills out.“It’s such a mess, Mik. Everything is a disaster. I was exactly where I wanted to be. I knew where I was going. And now,” he exhales. “Now. Everything is flipped upside down. All I did was put my hand on that.” He gestures to the sword. “I don’t know what’s coming and I can’t say no. I’m just. I am too old for this. Why is this happening?”“And then there are things that I’d never expected to change with it. Everyone looks at me differently; it’s like overnight I have become a person no one knows. I was stationed here for four years, and I knew some of these guys pretty well, but no one will speak to me if they don’t have to, except you. You remember Celia, right? I have no idea what I was thinking hoping she’d still be available, I guess I was hoping for a confidant. I don’t know. My mother can hardly look at me without weeping. My father.” He stops. “My father... told me I wasn’t welcome back.” His voice threatens to break and he stops abruptly, collecting himself before moving on. “I have to be tough, and frankly, I’m terrified I might end up being flayed alive by some monster. I have no idea what’s going to be expected of me. I have no one I can turn to for advice about this.“If I am an incarnation of the very idea of courage... I really don’t feel very brave, so why am I even here?” He drops his head to his hands. Disaster.“It’s not courage if you’re already brave.” Mikal’s tones are soft, soothing. “What?” He looks up from his hands. “If you’re already brave about something, you don’t need courage. Courage is what keeps you moving forward when you’re not feeling brave. It’s hope and faith in yourself, even if you have doubts. Especially if you have doubts.” Mikal shifts in his chair a little and takes a sip of his beer. “I have known you for a long time. I have always thought you were courageous. If you don’t see it, others do.” He gestures to the sword in its sheath at Link’s side. “Even others you don’t know are watching, it seems.”Link takes the beer stein in two hands and stares into the depths of the stout. “It’s okay to be scared, Link. You just don’t let it stop you. Courage means you move forward anyway.” Mikal finishes his beer and stands up. He raises the empty tankard in a salute and meets Link’s eyes. “Move forward.” He lowers the tankard and turns to leave. Link watches him go.He sits, alone in the dark, holding his beer, listening to the waves roll in.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Three weeks after putting his hand on the hilt of a sword that had been swung by men who still have stories told about them, he jogs the bay gelding off the beaches of Lurelin and allows the horse to pick the direction. He needs to go back to the castle soon, and he’s seen those who he needed to see. He wants a few days for himself to sort things out. Soon, whispers the sword at the back of his mind. It has been patient, but that is coming to an end.He wanted to tie up loose ends at the start of this sabbatical, or whatever it was. He thinks maybe he had made more messes, instead. He isn’t sure what he’d expected out of his parents, but he had not expected to be told to leave. He feels foolish about Celia and just wished things ended differently. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone back. He shakes his head - it had been stupid to think she’d just wait on him.Maybe he is just avoiding what is before him. He doesn’t think of himself as one to shirk his duties, so this idea does not sit well. The sword wouldn’t go for stupid and lazy, right? Did it always make the right choice?What, exactly, is before him? He knows he has limits that hadn’t existed in his mind at sixteen. At sixteen, everything is still possible. At forty-two, he knows it isn’t . He shifts uneasily in his saddle, his horse flicking an ear back. He dislikes the idea of losing control of himself, especially for an unknown that might be impossible. What if he fails?
What if he fails?
Is he smart enough for whatever is coming?Is he enough?His brother had run over the histories of some of the heroes before they were heroes. He supposed they hadn’t been particularly remarkable before, but maybe that wasn’t true. How had others seen them? The Hero of Twilight, or Time...how had those kids seen themselves? Had they known they could fail?He gives Sam his head. The bay horse stretches his neck forward and down and moves off at an easy, ground covering walk, snatching a mouthful of long grass at the side of the road and chewing it as they amble along. Keeping an eye on the road, Link allows the motion of the horse to lead his mind to wander. Was it always young people because they hadn’t built an identity yet and were looking for one? He imagines that if the sword slid from its pedestal for him when he was 16, he would not be having this crisis. It would have just been something to go and do. Less at stake personally. Less experience to know where your limits are. No negative but what if. No fear. What was there to be afraid of when you’re 16 and the world is still in front of you? What is there to be afraid of? He closes his hands on his reins, bringing the gelding to a halt and furrows his brow. Introspection has never been his strength, and there is too much of it the past few weeks. He doesn’t like to look too closely at things he feels; he is much better at doing. What is there to be afraid of?He’d liked his life before. He enjoyed taking the kids to the Great Plateau and camping under the stars. He liked his postings throughout Hyrule; he’d gotten to see so much of his country that he wouldn’t have if he’d stayed home and bred horses with his family. There were people he’d met that he was glad to have known, even if he felt badly about how some of those relationships ended. He’d been a leaf afloat on a creek, going where the water took him, and that had been just fine. And now he is supposed to be something so much more.The future is unknown, in ways he has never expected, and it is scary. The flow of time, cruel indeed. He wishes he could ask the others who’d handled the sword these questions, but they seemed to be silent on the topic. It would be nice to talk to anyone who had walked this path before. He nudges his heels into the bay gelding’s sides and picks up a trot, mind half on the road and half turning over the obligation before him, trying to find a way to fit into it. A month after taking hold of the hilt of the Master Sword and feeling the goddess smile on him (he hopes), he is back on the little bay gelding, heading north to Central Hyrule and eventually Castletown. He doesn’t push the horse this time, content to keep the speed to a trot. The white water in his head has slowed. It still offers occasional turbulence, but no longer seems dangerous. The memories of those before him are still there, but no longer demanding he pay attention constantly. He takes his time, knowing that once he is back, his life is no longer his alone, and he wants to save these last moments.The castle looms on the horizon. He smiles, knowing he’ll sleep in a bed tonight for certain. As he closes the distance, a rider on a dappled grey gallops out of the main gate and heads toward him. Link closes his hands on his reins, bringing Sam to a stop, and waits. The rider on the grey slides his horse to a stop. His uniform says he is a captain of the royal guard.“Are you Link, bearer of the Master Sword?”Link nods and holds his horse as it fidgets under him. The sword on his back sends a vibration through his spine. Soon. So soon. The back of his right hand tingles. “You need to get to the castle right away. There is something strange happening in Faron and the queen has asked for you to investigate. She will debrief you on the details herself. Follow me.” He wheels the grey on its haunches and gallops back toward the castle. Sam stirs to follow, but Link holds him in place one more moment. It always starts with something strange, thinks Link. And why is it often Faron? He watches the grey horse gallop back toward the castle, feeling as though a chapter in his life is about to end. Maybe an entire book. It is finally time. He takes a deep breath, and kicks the bay gelding into a gallop toward the castle. She is waiting for him in her office again, and if she is flustered by whatever is going on, he cannot tell. He remembers, on meeting her, feeling a flutter in his chest and dismissing it as nerves. Today that flutter seems more forward. Whatever the sword recognizes in him sees her for who she is. If the story is true, she is a physical manifestation of the goddess Hylia. Link has never been particularly religious and decides to not examine this too closely yet. The back of his right hand throbs in her presence, and he cannot help but rub at it.She is seated with her hands folded in front of her. Her eyes catch him nursing his right hand, and she meets his gaze and turns her right hand so he can see that she also wears a Triforce, though it’s the lower left triangle that is prominent on hers. “When?” she asks. “What were the circumstances?”He takes the chair in front of her desk, stretching his right hand toward hers, noting that the mark intensifies as they get closer. “Three weeks ago, I think. I had to kill a silver moblin and I used the Master Sword.”She reaches across and puts her palm against his. Link feels a jolt at the contact. For a moment, the mark glows too brightly to look at, but he thinks the base of the Triforce is complete for a bit. He pulls his hand back, not sure what has just happened. “Well, then, Hero, I hope you’ve accomplished whatever you needed to do. Are you ready?” He isn’t ready to be called Hero. He isn’t sure he is ready for whatever she is about to say. He isn’t sure he will ever be truly ready, but he is out of preparation time. What he says is “Yes, Your Majesty.” It sounds like he means it.She considers him a moment. “I think we can drop the titles in private, Link. Please just call me Zelda. I think it will make things easier.”“If it pleases you, Your...Zelda.” First name basis with the queen, goddesses above. “What has you calling me back?”It turns out to not be anything specific. Rumors and mystery about something deep in the jungles of Faron. Monsters like his silver moblin tumbling about some ruins rotting deep in the region. Perhaps there is some artifact inside that holds a clue? He is tasked with finding out. He is at least not going out unprepared. She’d gifted him with a shield - a huge thing he could hide behind easily, and beautiful as well. Enameled in royal blue, with a Triforce and the wingcrest of Hyrule in red. He knows now the wingcrest is a bird called a Loftwing, and the one on this shield is red because there was a Link in the distant past who’d loved a red one like a favorite horse. No, not red...crimson. This shield was made for him, to call back to his metaphorical forefathers. She’d given him chainmail, too, and three bottles of a red potion she says would instantly cure terrible injuries. And something she calls the Hero’s clothes. A white, high collared, long sleeved undershirt, a green tunic and a pair of tan pants. Boots. And the hat.“Permission to speak freely?” He interrupts her history lesson on the garment, holding the hat up and quite sure he is being pranked.“Yes?”“This? I really need to wear this?”She seems slightly taken aback, but it is only a fraction of a second. “It’s tradition.”“I will lose this. This will not stay on my head. I would understand a helm. This is a stupid hat.”“This is what the Hero of Hyrule has worn for millennia.” She sounds a little stiff. And insistent. “You should wear it, too.”“Is it a magic hat?”This time her mouth does drop open at his insolence.They argue a bit and in the end he agrees to take it but is vague about actually wearing it. Two days later, he is on a fresh horse, this one a chestnut mare that is supposed to be fleet of foot, and he is back out the castle gates, heading to the southwest to Faron. The ride is uneventful, and in three days he hands the horse off to the stablemaster at the Faron barracks because from there he is on foot. It’s late in the afternoon when he finds it, a low grey stone rising from the jungle floor, seemingly a single room behind an imposing double door. Most of it must be underground. He feels a chill despite the heat as he contemplates that door, the fate of drawing the sword staring him in the face.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It’s humid in Faron. And hot. The air is thick and still, full of the drone of insects. Sweat trickles down the back of his neck. He wears the hat; his scalp is a hot, sticky mess under it. His tunic is damp through his chainmail and he is pretty sure he can smell himself. The entrance to the Temple is before him, covered in creepers and vines, crumbling stone encased in moss. He places his palm on the door and gives it a tentative push. To his surprise, the door moves a little. It takes a little muscle, but he opens it fairly easily, revealing a set of damp stone stairs vanishing into the darkness. He stares down their length. There might be a flicker of light at the bottom. Who’s minding torches in this abandoned place? It seems so dangerous. He wished he were not so alone.
You’re not alone, master.
He turns his head to catch the hilt of the sword over his right shoulder. The hilt is damp, but it still sparkles to him. His partnership with this blade was not ever his intention, but they are together now, and he has to trust that it has chosen well. He looks back at the depths and starts down the stairs. Slowly. The steps are slick with moss. The journey woke the healed fracture on his left leg, reminding him to take care. The Hero of Hyrule was never meant to be lame and middle aged, he thinks, steadying himself on the wall. Yet here we are. Several hours later, he'd found himself a map, and a strangely shaped key. Most of the things to fear here have simply been born of his imagination and flickering light, though he hopes he never lays eyes on a spider that big again. He'd flipped it over with a lucky swing of his sword before revealing the spot on its body that he could strike to kill it. Awful. He decides that it’s probably time to stop and rest. He manages enough sort-of-dry wood for a small, if smoky, fire. He sits and leans against a wall, feeling sweaty and sticky and genuinely worn. Old. He is drowsy in front of the fire, and his mind quietly wanders to a time before the sword, when he was stationed out in Lurelin and spending a day of leave in Celia’s bed. The day had been rainy, hadn’t it? He remembered hearing rain on the roof and thinking how warm and comfortable and safe it was being spooned up next to her, both of them naked and spent. He'd snuggled into her hair a little, and she’d murmured something he didn’t quite catch. When she turned in his arms to face him, it wasn’t her at all. It was a corpse in a wooden mask. It let out a shriek, reaching for him.And he is awake with a violent gasp, heart hammering, eyes wide. Somewhere in his head is the word redead but he has never heard of that before and he hopes that isn’t something real, but knows it is, somewhere. He stokes the fire to settle himself, realizing he is in for a very long night. If things were only going to get as bad as spiders, that would be okay, but at least one of the young men who'd handled this sword before him knew about something called a redead.He needs distraction. He reaches into his pack and removes the key he found. It’s as long as his hand, with a black metal shaft and an ornately carved jade head. There’s a pair of red tassels on the head as well. He thinks they might be silk. It must open a special place - hopefully the place where whatever he is looking for here is hiding. He turns the key over in his hands, watching the firelight play over its surface, keeping the redeads at bay for now.It’s impossible to tell how time passes in the Forest Temple. There is no daylight, only torches in wall sconces. He has not seen who might be tending them yet. He spends hours exploring the rooms marked on the map, looking for something and hoping he will know it when he sees it. There are spiders of various sizes, even really big ones, but he’s figured out how to dispatch them and they quickly become an annoyance. Carnivorous deku baba of several types sometimes block his path, but those he has known how to deal with since he was young. He’d even recently taken a group of young recruits out to teach them how to beat them down while avoiding a bite. These are not challenges, really, and once he’s figured this out he concentrates on staying out of his head while working through the warren of rooms.There’s a little alcove - it’s not really a room - where he finds a metal chest guarded, more or less, by a trio of deku. He rolls his eyes at them as they hiss and snap, and takes them down with a single swing of the sword. The key doesn’t go to this box, though; it’s just open. Inside is a flattened, curved piece of wood. There are blue and red markings along its length, but he doesn’t recognize if the symbols are writing or just decorative. He turns it over, wondering what he’s found that someone felt the need to hide like this. Boomerang, that’s a boomerang. His head is filled with images of how useful this thing can be. Once thrown, it will come back. It’s a weapon, stunning creatures in their tracks. Past heroes used them to do other tricks as well. He takes it with him and continues on. He has no idea how long he has been traveling the damp passages of this forgotten temple in Faron when he finally finds his way to the room at the heart of his map. This room is blocked by a door, but so were others. There’s a spider carved into the stone, or maybe it’s something else, as he only counts six legs. Perhaps two have worn away somehow. This is the last place for him to explore; if he hasn’t found whatever he is looking for (surely it’s not the boomerang) he’ll consider retracing his steps. He hopes he won’t have to. He is weary of his own company in the flickering torch light of the stone halls. When he pushes on this door, it doesn’t budge. There’s an ornate lock in the center; copper that has turned to verdigris, details picked out in jade and some milky red stone. He pulls the key out of his pack and holds it up, matching the carved jade of the key to the lock. Clearly a pair. He wonders what’s behind the door and decides to find out, slipping the key into the lock and turning it. He can feel the tumblers inside turn, and the door swings open, revealing a large empty room with a high ceiling. Empty. Anticlimactic. He steps through the door.As soon as he is across the threshold, narrowly-spaced bars slam down behind him. He turns in surprise, realizing he is trapped, and the ground rumbles beneath him. This cannot be good. He scrambles for the shield and grabs the hilt of the sword and it’s ready, it’s more ready than he is. He has no idea what has tumbled from a hole high in the wall of this chamber, but it’s huge, bigger than a horse, bigger than a moblin. He has never seen a living thing so large. He can probably stand up underneath it. It’s vaguely spider-like with a red and blue striped body, a half dozen black legs, and a single giant eye on what he assumes is the head. Also, great black fangs dripping with... something. The beast focuses on him, emitting a screech and in the back of his mind a chorus erupts aim for that eye. Strike that.Those fangs are right under that eye, and whatever is coating them sizzles and smokes when it drips to the floor. He wonders if the tunic and the chainmail will hold up better. His heart rate climbs as he faces the creature, trying to decide what to do...and then the thing leaps into the air. Link bolts across the room, hoisting the shield overhead as he runs under it. He can hear the drool off the fangs hiss as it hits the shield. He reaches the opposite wall and spins around. There’s a quick spike of pain in his left leg, but then it’s gone. Whatever it is also faces the wall and is slowly turning to face him again. He realizes that there’s an opening there, if he is fast enough (can you be fast enough?), but he has missed it. He wonders if he can convince the beast to jump again. Sword and shield ready, he yells for its attention and gets ready to sprint. It spots him and leaps across the room at him again, and again he runs beneath it, stopping shorter this time, spinning and sprinting back to strike at that eyeball, but when he is nearly in position, his left leg has had enough and it slips when he puts weight on it. He falls forward, sword and shield clattering to the ground, great black fangs at the edge of his peripheral vision and moving closer. Panicked, he tries to roll out of the way and instead gets a splash of the creature’s drool on his left arm and it’s like fire gone right to the bone. He grunts and scrambles underneath the beast, leaving his weapon and defense behind, just trying to get out of immediate danger.
now what now what oh Hylia now what
You have a boomerang and a red potion
Right.
The beast is searching for him, but apparently the only safe place in the room is directly beneath it. He blindly fumbles in his pack with his good arm and pulls out a bottle full of red liquid. Keeping his attention on the spider, he manages to pull the stopper on the bottle and downs the potion in a single draw. Immediately the fire goes from his arm and his leg feels better – not restored to its pre-fracture days, but the wear he’s given it dungeon-crawling is gone. He crawls out from under the creature and when it slowly turns to reorient on him, he quickly aims and flings the boomerang, marveling that he can do it at all before realizing it’s not his muscle memory behind the throw. The weapon flies true and strikes the huge eye before coming back to him. He catches it easily. The beast squeals and shudders to a halt and he has enough time to bolt across the room and scoop up the sword and shield. The roar behind him lets him know that the monster has turned its attention back to him, and he is ready to go. He turns to face it and it leaps; he runs under it, shield up. Once he is past it he turns and throws the boomerang again, striking his target, and this time when it goes down, he switches to the sword and slashes at the eye before it’s back up. He feints to the side, leading the creature into another clumsy turn before stunning it with the boomerang again. It feels like he repeats this series of steps for an hour before it finally stops getting up again. Once he realizes it’s done, he falls to his knees, fatigue overtaking adrenaline. He is exhausted. He is still trapped in this room, and he still has not found anything that might prove useful. He just wants to have a good meal and sleep in a bed for maybe a week, and just celebrate that he has survived. He puts his face in his hands with a shaky breath - so he doesn’t see where the wooden box comes from, though from the sound it makes hitting the floor and breaking, it was probably close to the ceiling. He whips his head around to face it, and it seems to be just a box. There’s a crack in one end from the impact and he can see there is something glowing inside. He forces himself to his feet to look.There are two things inside the box. One looks like a heart-shaped red crystal, encased in delicate gold filigree. When he touches it, it turns into a glowing silver light that travels up his arm, and he is no longer tired. He might be stronger than when he entered the temple in the first place. The Triforce on his right hand glows as well, briefly. He is not sure if he is becoming something else or if he is just starting to see what he already is. The other object is an unassuming purple stone pendant without a chain. He takes care to wrap this up and place it in his pack, along with the empty bottle. It’s then that he hears stone sliding, and a previously hidden passage opens at the back of the room. There’s a staircase rising up and he can hear bird calls. When he gets to the top, he is outside the temple and it seems like it’s still late afternoon. He sits down on the ground, back against the entrance to the temple and lets his mind drift.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Hero of Hyrule, you have done well to come here.
There have been so many voices in his head lately, but he thinks he actually heard that. He sits up a little straighter, and slowly scans the area.
By defeating the Temple Guardian, you have shown courage and grown in strength for your trials ahead. There is evil brewing against the land of Hyrule and you will be needed. Bring the Amethyst to the Incarnation of Hylia and go onward to the people of the water. Your quest continues there.
The voice fades, replaced by the neverending drone of insects. Link is unsettled. It's late in the day; maybe he should try and make his way back to the barracks.
He gets to his feet and dusts himself off as his eye catches a tiny glow, tumbling about in the brush nearby. He stills and watches. Is it a firefly? No, this is a steady light; fireflies flicker.
it’s a fairy, you should catch it in a bottle
He had heard of fairies, but didn’t think they were real. Just another story for children, to go with Picori and Kokiri.
He supposes there will be a dragon by the end of this.
He hears faint, ethereal bells as it flutters about. Without taking his eyes from it, he quietly pulls the empty bottle from his pack and removes the stopper. He creeps forward, stalking the tiny creature until it gets close and in a fluid motion, swings the bottle forward and catches it. He quickly stoppers the bottle and looks at his prize. A pair of gossamer wings, shaped like a butterfly’s but veined like a darter’s, frame the body, which just seems to be light. It flutters about the bottle, and he can still hear the gentle tinkling sound it makes as it moves. It doesn’t seem distressed, but he is unsure how he feels capturing such a pretty thing like this.
you may need it later
There seems to be some agreement from the past wielders of the blade on this, so he reluctantly tucks the bottled fairy into his pack and hopes it will be ok.
Four days later he is back at the castle, preparing to present himself to the Queen. He has had time to bathe and sleep, and is feeling more like himself. The heat and misery of Faron are fading, though the monster in the chamber still dances in his mind at night. The corrosive saliva of the creature left a long, ragged scar on his left arm, and it stands out like new pink flesh, a little less forgiving than what he’d been born with. After some internal debate, he wears the hero’s clothes to his meeting, as the long sleeves will cover the mark.
She is seated at her desk and looks up from her writing when he enters her office. She is dressed in pinks and golds and white, as usual. The combination is bright and cheerful, he thinks. Her long blonde hair is tucked behind her ears, and she looks tired today. Dark circles pool under her blue eyes, but those eyes are still sharp.
“Still have the hat, I see.”
He closes his eyes and heaves a small sigh. “Yes, I don’t understand how it stayed put, but it did.”
She nods and smiles just a little. “It’s good to see you, but I feel you’re back rather quickly. Did you find anything?”
He approaches her desk and sits in the chair before it. The quartermaster at the Faron barracks also seemed to think he’d only been gone a day at most. He’d been unable to track time in the temple, but he had slept a few times and was sure he’d been in it for days. Maybe a week. At least. “I’m not sure time moved in the same ways inside those ruins, because I feel like I was in there... quite a while. I found this, and it was hard won.” He removes the purple stone from his pack, unwraps it and carefully places it before her. “I think it is an amethyst?”
She picks the stone up and studies it, slowly turning it over, frowning a little. She says nothing for a long time and Link worries that he has brought back the wrong treasure. He dreads a return trip to Faron.
“There was something else in the box with that.” His words tumble out. “Red crystal, about the size of my palm, in the shape of a heart and covered in gold filigree. It vanished when I touched it. Was that what I was looking for?”
Her attention is very suddenly on him and those blue eyes are intense on his own. “Those red crystals are for you.” She places the purple stone down and leans across the desk a little. “What, exactly, did you do to get that box? My understanding is that the heart container is gifted after a considerable trial.”
He keeps his face neutral. He could have used that information before heading to Faron. He recounts his encounter with the Temple Guardian, showing the scar on his arm where the saliva had hit. “Did you know there was something like that in there?” He hopes she did not. Or if she did, the lie is convincing.
She doesn't break eye contact with him. “No, I did not. I thought I had sent you off with as much protection as I could. If I could have armed you with knowledge, I would have. I’m sorry I was unable to do that.”
Something about her tone reminds him of a chance encounter he had with her father, decades ago when he was still young and the whole world before him. He decides she is being honest with him.
She turns back to the stone. “In the week or so you’ve been gone, there have been rising reports of monsters across Hyrule, and people going missing. At least one village, Eppon, has gone completely silent. I am not sure what role this stone plays, assuming there is one. I will hold onto this and see what can be learned about it.”
“Once I got out of the temple, I heard a voice.” He hopes that he doesn’t sound like he’s taken leave of his senses. “It suggested going to the ‘people of the water’ which has to mean the Zora Domain.”
“Eppon sits on the edge of the Domain. It would make sense to scout that area next.”
“Right.” Of course. Maybe he could get one more night in an actual bed at least. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”
“I’ll have a horse and supplies prepared.” She turns her focus to papers on her desk, taking some notes.
He pauses before leaving, not sure why it seems so important to tell her this now. “You know, I met your father once.”
Zelda looks up from whatever it is she is jotting down and makes a small sound of interest. He has her attention.
“Yes, I was seventeen and he came to the academy for some reason. I don’t know why he picked me out of the crowd, but he asked my name and when I told him, he put a hand on my shoulder and said he hoped I would always be loyal to Hyrule and its people.” He stops, thinking back on the day, how he could hardly believe such a thing was happening to him. “He was a good man.”
She is still for a moment, gathering herself before speaking. “Thank you - for that, Link. He made a point of meeting every young man he could with your name, because he had a Zelda.” As she turns away, he can see a tear in her eye. “He wanted to make sure he met whomever might be called.” She goes silent. “I miss him.”
“He was a good man,” Link repeats, quietly. He squirms in his seat, not intending to stir this emotion with his story. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“It's okay. I wonder what he would say to all of this.” A moment passes. “Did you ever meet my dear Dozam?”
The late king? “No, only from afar. But he seemed like a good man, too.”
She drops her attention back to her desk work and dismisses him softly. “Thank you, Link. That’s all.”
He feels mildly confused as he leaves, and it seems like right now would be a great time for some swordplay.
He takes himself to the yard to practice with the sword. It's empty, and that’s just fine. Better than fine - he can work through the knots in his brain in private. He works slowly through his forms, listening to his body for any new pain or sore spots he may have acquired in Faron. Finding none, he slowly works himself harder until he is slashing the air at full speed, lost in the meditation of the movement. He gives the sword a big, showy flourish, because he likes how it looks, and then takes a break. He is warm and a little sweaty, and he feels good.
“Is your name Link?” The sudden voice is so pretty and feminine. He turns and oh, Hylia, she is so, so young. He wonders how long she had been watching him. “You’re the one that pulled the sword, right? I like watching you work with it.”
“Ahh, yes, that’s me and thank you,”
She is leaning over the low wall around the edge of the yard. She has long brown hair that frames her pretty face, and emerald colored eyes. She is looking at him as though he might be a meal. He had seen that look before, but it’s unsettling on such a young face. “Come here, hero, I wish to ask you something.”
He still frowns at the title, and approaches her a little warily. He keeps out of arm’s reach. “What can I do for you?”
What she proposes would have been very interesting to him, with her, if he were 20 years younger. It would be interesting to him, with her, were she twenty years older. Instead, he is mildly horrified. He steps away, feeling off balance.
“I’m sorry, no. I’m very… flattered, but I’m sorry. You’ll thank me later.” He turns, sword still in hand, and strides off as quickly as he can without it looking like he is in a hurry. What is going on? This is far from the first time he has been propositioned, though he's found the grey in his hair and creases to his face make him less noticeable to younger women. He goes to hide in his room, vowing to save his practice for very early in the morning or late at night.
In the morning, he is awakened by a knock on the door of his room. He had dreamed of fighting the spider and is bleary from it, stumbling to the door in just his trousers. He opens the door to reveal another young woman behind it, but this one does not appear ready to fawn over him. She has white hair and there’s a red eye with a tear painted on her forehead. The Eye of Truth. Her garb would indicate she is Sheikah. He blinks at her.
“Good morning, Master Link, I trust you slept well.”
“Not really. I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met?”
“Apologies. I am Impa, advisor to the queen.”
He stares, not sure what he is supposed to do. She is slightly taller than him, too.
“There’s been a change in plans for you. The queen would like to meet with you over breakfast; we have learned some things about the stone you found. I’m to escort you, so please get ready quickly.”
There is not going to be enough coffee in Hyrule today.
An hour later, he is on his second cup. There’s always cream in the castle, it seems, and he’s generous with it, liking the way the coffee feels in his mouth when he drinks it. He takes small pleasure in this.
They meet in Zelda’s private dining room with Impa, plus a rotating group of people who come to offer a report or an insight and then leave. One of them had been Peatrice, his reference librarian. They'd made brief eye contact and she’d pointedly ignored him until she left. But she'd brought a book that had a drawing of the purple stone that he’d found...and four others that were similar. Portal stones, Impa said. Get the five of them together in the right place and they open up a portal to an alternate place, a dark world. There seemed to be some agreement that there was a presence from this other universe that had tendrils out in Hyrule.
A dark world? The words stir something in him. A few Links of the past had experience with that, so he spoke up.
“When you say a dark world, do you mean something like Lorule or the Twilight Realm? Because both of those have been called a dark world. Also, I’m not sure why you’d want to open a portal to either place. I don’t think either one worked out well for Hyrule.” Something else about stones and portals niggled at the back of his mind. “What if finding these is some sort of trap to let something into Hyrule or out of Hyrule? You’ve considered that, right?”
Impa and Zelda stare at him.
“There is a Triforce of Power at play here, too, right? Isn’t that what, ah, calls me? Wouldn’t it make sense that whatever is behind that might try to trick us?”
He’d only ever carried out the orders before. He’d never been privy to coming up with them. No one had ever asked for his input - but they wouldn’t have asked him to meet if they hadn’t wanted his opinions, right?
“We probably had not considered that as seriously as perhaps we should have,” says Impa.
“It just... there was something else about gathering magic stones to open something and it ended up being a bad idea.” He is trying to grab onto the memory, but it’s slippery - like it’s just a memory of a memory. “If there are multiple steps here, maybe we locate these portal stones and then be very careful about what happens with them. If this is a trap, it would be dumb to walk into it.” Especially if something like that has already happened.
The mood in the room subtly shifts, becoming more somber. Breakfast dishes are taken away as they continue to discuss the stones and where they might be. Their talk extends into lunch. Link realizes he is probably getting another night in his bed. He doesn’t feel like they have a real idea of what is going on, but Impa seems confident in her findings, and Zelda seems to trust Impa. It will have to do for now.
He waits until it’s dark to go back to the yard to dance with the Master Sword. He revels in the activity, letting his body and mind flow as he moves through forms. He should find an actual sparring partner to mix things up. He ends with a flourish again and then hoists the sword above his head, closing his eyes and tilting his head skyward. For a moment, he communes with past wielders of the blade.
He thinks he might be able to stand with them.
The next day he is up early and is off, on a bright palomino gelding who likes to run, heading east to the river lands.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The terrain gets rocky as he approaches the river lands, slowing his progress. He got out early that morning, hoping to see Eppon before heading into the Zora Domain proper. He hasn’t been to this region of Hyrule; he isn't sure what to expect. It’s early afternoon when he spots a settlement that must be Eppon and urges the little gold horse to a jog. He rides to what should be the center of town and dismounts, dropping his reins to the ground.He scans the area. It’s quiet. There are no people. Every window he can see is broken. Every door is off its hinges, in splinters, or both. There’s a heavy, foul smell in the air and he can hear what might be thousands of flies. He is not about to go checking buildings alone. What happened here?The palomino jerks his head up, suddenly startled, and snorts. Link grabs the reins before the horse tries to bolt. “Steady. Steady,” he whispers, pushing his knuckles into the crest of the horse’s neck.The horse snorts again, and his ears flick. He is focused on what appeared to be the general store. Link turns his attention to where the horse is pointing. The door is smashed in, like every other structure in town, but he thinks he might see something moving within.The horse takes a step back, nostrils flared, blowing hard. He is about to make a run for it. “Steady.” Link flips the reins over the horse’s neck and quickly puts his foot in the left stirrup to pull himself up. The horse bolts as he swings his leg over the cantle of his saddle, and he grabs a handful of mane as he tries to get control back. The horse gets four strides in before Link gets him stopped. He snorts and flips his head, dancing underneath Link. The horse is a little hotter than his past few mounts, but this seems to be more than high spirits. He pushes on to the Zora Domain, keeping the horse well in hand. The horse worries and frets the entire way to the barracks. It is sweaty and still agitated when he passes it to the stablemaster with an apology.“What did you do to this horse?”“We rode through Eppon and something scared him. I didn’t see it.”The stablemaster shakes his head, not approving of whatever happened to this animal. He takes the reins and leads the horse off. Link heads off to the barracks for dinner and to find out what he can. He’s not able to find out much. It seems one day Eppon was fine and the next morning it was empty and broken, not a soul to be found. Investigations turned up nothing of note, aside from an eeriness in the dead town. The next morning he heads to the Zora Domain proper, hoping the people of the rivers might be able to assist him. He finds a loose collection of shops and services where Hylian and Zora mingle. He’s met one or two Zora before, but seeing so many in one place is new. They are an aquatic race, with brightly colored, streamlined bodies. They seem to wear jewelry and not much else, though Link supposes clothing is a liability when you’re swimming. They are exotic to him, and being among so many is like being in a shoal of fish in Lurelin. He talks to shopkeepers and the fellow who owns the inn, and a barmaid or three to eventually learn where and when he can find the Zora emissary. By the afternoon he finds himself at the palace, trying to convince a guard that he truly is an emissary of the Hyrulean Queen, on a mission directly from her. The palace of the Zora Domain rises from the collective source of the rivers, cool milky stone with a pale green tint. He’s told at night the stone glows and he thinks he’d like to see that. The guard denies him entrance, but does direct him to an ornate outbuilding to meet with some official.It’s evening by the time he heads back to the barracks, limping just a little. It’s been a long day for his left leg. The palace does subtly glow as the daylight fades, and he takes a minute to admire it. He has managed to get an appointment with a diplomat for the following morning, and that will have to do for now. He did not think that there would be so much side nonsense involved with being a hero of legend. Zelda must have sent some sort of word ahead of him, as his meeting the next day goes more quickly than he’d hoped. The official he meets with is named Evim, and he reminds Link of a reef shark. He is tall, a steely blue grey with black tipped fins. He has a mouth full of sharp teeth, but is gentle and at ease. He tells Link that there have been other disappearances, Zora who went out fishing and didn’t come back. Places don’t feel safe. At night, there’s something on the move in the river lands. Something dark and nearly liquid, it seems to defy description by those who claim to have seen it. Link wonders if this is a pattern. He finds the river bed ruins easily enough. Five columns rising out of the shallows, forming an arc in front of what seems to be a cave entrance with a stone door. There’s another set of steps leading down, and it's damp again, but cooler, and he can hear water flowing. Confident he knows what to expect this time, he heads downward. The sun is shining and the sky is clear when he drags himself out of the depths of the river land ruins, far downstream of where he went in. He looks to the sky, glad to see it again. He wasn’t sure he would. He is soaked, boots squelching. He closes his eyes, releasing a breath and allows his tears to stream..He died in there. He died. He’d found the map. He’d found the key that opened that final room. He’d worked his way through the chambers of the water dungeon, finding an aquamarine that matched the amethyst, but the back passages flooded and he had to push forward to the room that could only be opened with the key. He knew what the key meant this time, and decided to prepare, as much as he could, for whatever waited for him behind that door. There was no fire, but he found a dry spot to sleep, wringing his clothes out as well as he could. He'd dreamed about her again. His mouth on hers, her body pressed against him, how she felt, her hands in his hair, how she’d pull on it as they moved together. He could smell her, taste her, hear her voice whisper his name in his ear, but when he woke up, she wasn't there. He'd wondered if she gave birth to that child that wasn’t his, if it was a boy or a girl, and he'd regretted not giving her what she wanted the entire time they were together. He just didn’t know. He knew this was probably not the road his mind should go down before he took on whatever lurked behind that ornate door, but he was alone and he wished he were not. How did the others do this alone?He unlocked the door, this one decorated with an image of what seemed like a long necked sea turtle with a studded shell. The lock was turquoise, matching the head of the key. He crossed the threshold to another huge, empty room, this one with a lake in it, the door locking him in again. A snaky blue head and neck rose, hissing, out of the water. It had no obvious weak spot, so he stood ready, and let it come to him. It reared back and struck, hitting the shield, pushing him back a step or two, but he managed to connect with the sword. It darted back and then swung its neck sideways, forcing him back lest it take him off his feet. This beast seemed limited to the water, and to snaking its neck out either directly or with a side to side sweep. He planned his attack and engaged, shield out, sword at the ready. It aimed at him and he was able to deal some damage before it drew back. They continued this dance for a while, and then the creature changed things up, drawing back and submerging itself. He'd stepped forward to the water’s edge, wondering if he’d finished it off, when that snakey head and neck exploded forward from the depths. The strike connects.He is flung backwards into the wall. He hears glass in his pack break, and thinks perhaps his back broke as well. He suddenly can’t feel his feet and there’s blood in his mouth. Something has definitely come loose inside him, and he is suddenly fading.
This is how it ends then, as a stain on a wall in some crumbling ruin. The sword chose poorly after all...
His view darkens and time comes to a standstill. The gentle clinking of glass is the last thing he hears. And then his shrouded vision is filled with silvery light and pink glitter. There’s a sound he can only describe as sparkles. He is back on his feet and he feels fine, more than fine; it's like he’s twenty-five again and as he looks up, the fairy he had caught is spiraling above his head, freed of its bottle. The blade is glowing and when he swings it experimentally a beam of light fires from the sword and hits the creature. He had no idea such a thing was possible. He tries it again. And again. When the beast finally falls, he drops his sword and shield and goes to lean against the wall of the chamber. He slides down to sit, drops his head to his hands, and shakes. He has no idea how long he sits there, but he hears another box drop and a stone door slide open. He should go back, but he can’t get up yet. He keeps feeling the strike, hearing the glass, tasting his own blood over and over. Eventually part of him urges him to get up and get moving. He makes his way to the box and finds another red crystal heart that vanishes when he touches it. It does nothing for his mental state. He makes his way out the door and stumbles out into the sun where he needs to stop again. He should get back to the Domain while the sun is still out. It would not be good to be alone in the dark in a strange place. He must look visibly ill when he gets to the barracks because the quartermaster asks him if he wants a doctor. He doesn’t. What could a doctor do if that red crystal heart didn’t help? He goes to his assigned bunk and tries to sleep.He can’t. Not easily. The strike, the glass, the blood. Over and over. Only when he is completely exhausted does he sleep, and then it is nightmares. He leaves the barracks after a day of this, and heads into the Zora Domain proper, finding a room at an inn, hoping more privacy would help. He spends three days in that room, forcing himself out to eat and little else. On the third day, his eye catches the hilt of the sword over his right shoulder. He cannot stay here forever. He cannot make the trip back to Hyrule Castle alone. He writes a letter, sending it by pigeon to the Castle.
To her Majesty, Queen Zelda Hyrule,
I hope this missive finds you well, and that your research into the stones is progressing. I am currently at an inn in the Zora Domain and unable to travel alone. I request an escort, preferably someone who might be familiar to our cause. I will explain in person.
Your servant,
Link
A week later, he is nursing a cup of coffee in a chair in front of the inn, staring out into the square, on the surface watching the Zora go about their day, none of it registering deeper. He still plays the moment he died in his head. It seems mostly in the background. It doesn’t always stay there. “Link?”He turns to the voice. Not Zelda. She hadn’t come, of course she hadn’t. She’d sent that Sheikah advisor of hers, what was her name again…“Impa?”“Yes.” She drops to a squat so as not to loom over him. “I’m here to take you back. Are you ok to ride?” “Yes.”“Are you ready to start back in the morning? Maybe get a good night’s sleep?” He considers this. He can’t stay here drinking coffee the rest of his life, though that sounds appealing. “Sure.”She looks him in the eye and it feels like she can see straight through him. “What happened, Link?”He does not answer her, but he does sigh a little and turns his face away from hers. “Maybe we can talk on the road; it’s a long ride ahead of us. Let’s meet here at daybreak.”He nods, still looking away. The next day he is back on the road with Impa and a pair of Royal Guards, heading back to Central Hyrule.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It had only taken him a few days to travel from the castle to the Zora Domain, but he had traveled alone and he’d had a fast horse. Impa and a pair of Royal Guards accompany him back to the castle. The guards mostly ignored him. That was fine, he didn’t care. They didn’t know about temples and keys and monsters. They had no idea what it was like. They didn’t hear glass breaking, shards tinkling across the slate on the cavern floor, or taste their own blood. They had no idea.
No idea.
Link is mounted on some half draft mare with a wide white blanket over her hips. One guard leads the way and the other rides behind. Impa rides next to Link, her easy-gaited gelding quiet and gentle. The stablemaster had told him the mare’s name, but he forgot what it was. She has a big walk. He lets her roll under his seat, not paying attention to her, letting her follow along after the other horses.The day is warm and humid. The horses are slow and reticent, the sound of their shod hooves the only sound. Link lets his mind wander, only aware of the horse beneath him. He startles when Impa breaks the silence. “You found the portal stone, then? In the Domain?”The question washes over him. He stares forward, focused on the Hyrulean royal crest on the guard’s back. Impa allows the question to die on its own.The sun dips low, lengthening shadows when they break for camp. Dinner is just bread and some cheese. Link remembers there was an inn on the route he took, but he has no idea where it might be. Everything from before he’d found the River Temple was slippery.He overhears the guards muttering and looking in his direction. Unwilling to be an object of ridicule, he takes the mare to graze. The sound of her pulling up grass and occasionally stamping a hoof to shake off a fly silences the glass fairy bottle. The horse doesn’t judge him or the sword on his back. She is just there. He wishes he could remember her name. He hears footsteps in the grass behind him. It has to be Impa. No one else would come after him. “Hey, Link.” Impa stood next to him, almost a head taller, arms crossed, watching his horse graze. The mare huffs contentedly and takes another mouthful of fescue. “Big girl.” Impa nods at the horse. “What did they say her name was? Buttercream?”
Buttercream.
“Yes.” He confirms. “Buttercream.”They stand together long enough for shadows to deepen. Fireflies wink and flirt with the falling darkness. Link fidgets, hoping she’ll leave and let him just stay with the horse. She doesn’t, but she doesn’t say anything else, either. He doesn’t really sleep that night. The ground is hard and stony. Every time he closes his eyes he sees the long blue neck of that huge sea turtle thing as it swung out to smash him against the cavern wall. The one time he does drift off, he bolts up from his bedroll, sweaty and pulse hammering. There had been no fairy in a spare bottle to save him. He swallows his scream as well as he can, gasping for breath, his head full of broken glass. Goddesses, why was this his burden to bear?You’re safe, he thinks he hears. It’s okay, you’re safe here. I’m protecting you. Impa squatted on her heels across the campfire from him, meeting his eye with a silent nod. He pulls himself up and bends his knees to his chest, head in his hands so no one would see the tears. If she said any more, he didn’t hear her. They break camp early in the morning. He hauls himself onto Buttercream, apologizing to the mare for the way he pulled on her saddle and back, exhausted, barely able to hold himself up as he sank into the seat. Thankfully, the mare did not seem to mind his sack-of-potatoes style of horsemanship this morning. He hopes he can doze a little in the saddle. Maybe tonight would bring more rest. That night is at an inn, the same place Link had an amazing lamb stew before he got to the Zora Domain. They don’t have stew that night, but the roast is good. Link eats quietly, away from Impa and the guards. He lingers over a pint of Tasserensa Brothers stout, watching Impa as she laughs with the guards, wondering if they were laughing at him. She had ridden by his side most of the day, though at one point her horse had taken exception to a puddle on the side of the road. She'd struggled to convince the horse to move forward, both of them frustrating the other, and he spoke up.“You need to relax,” Link had told her. “Sit deep in your saddle, like you’re pushing yourself down into it. Take your leg off the horse and lower your hands. To your belt buckle. If you were wearing a belt. Hold on.” He sidestepped Buttercream to Impa’s dancing mount and grabbed the rein, close to the bit. He clucked his tongue to his mare and she moved off with her big walk, the smaller horse following along, until the dreaded puddle was behind them.“You’re good with horses,” she said.“I like horses.”“What do you like about them? They don’t always agree with me.”Link turned his head to look at her for a second before turning back to look between Buttercream’s ears. “Horses have never let me down.”“We must know different kinds of horses.”Link snorted.She seemed content to ride next to him after that and didn’t pursue further conversation. She was keeping her hands lower, at least. That night, he is fortunate to have his own bed, though he shares the room with Impa. He treats himself to a bath before bed, enjoying the warm soak and forgetting about cold mossy floors and breaking glass for a while. By the time he has finished, Impa is already curled in her bed, so he slips into his bed as quietly as he can.“Link,” her voice drifts softly from her bed. “You can talk to me about the Zora Domain.”Not quietly enough. “Not now.” He rolls over to put his back to her.“Okay. Later then.”Later turns out to be the following day. Impa meets him at breakfast, offering a cup of coffee. “I saw you with the stout. A lot of people who drink that drink this too.”“Thank you.” It is strong and hot, good, even black. Once they are mounted up and back on the road, Impa stands in her stirrups. “Sir Link, I appreciate the horse lesson yesterday. I would like it if you could give me another one. We are going to ride ahead, if you’re willing?”Link frowns and narrows his eyes at her. Obviously, this is a ruse. But, it would be nice to get away from the guards. And he didn’t have to tell her anything. “Let’s go.”He closes his leg on his big mare and she picks up a big, bouncy trot. Impa’s horse follows closely.The morning is all horses. Impa could sit on a horse, but she was what Link thought of as a functional rider. The horse was a means to an end, a way to get from point A to point B for functional people. He didn’t understand why people did not see the horse. Horses had taught him so many things, and been present for him in so many ways people failed to be. “You need to think of it as a constant conversation,” he finally says to her, after twenty minutes of getting her to pick up and then drop her reins. “The language is different, but the horse is always telling you things through that bit and its body. When you’re just hanging on the reins, or bouncing around in the saddle, it’s confusing and painful for them. I think that’s enough for now; you both need a break.”Impa immediately lets the reins slip through her fingers, releasing the contact Link had just taught her.“There’s a nice grassy spot by the tree line.” She pointed out a swath of green, dotted with wildflowers that catch the last of the morning sunlight. “Let’s go over there and maybe I can teach you something.”Link sets his jaw, but the horses do need a break. He doesn’t want to go back to the glare of the guards. He gives Buttercream a nudge, and lets her big rolling walk take them.The horses reach for the grass, tearing up eager mouthfuls. They watch the horses graze for several minutes before Impa speaks again. “I do appreciate your help with riding. I would like to return the favor.”“If you tell me what happened,” she says, “then I can help you. Whatever you say to me remains between us. I won’t say anything to the guards. I won’t even tell Her Majesty.”Link tangles his fingers in Buttercream’s mane, pulling the hair tight. The mare does not seem to notice.“I can see you are in pain,” she presses. “Please tell me. I want to help.”He studies Impa’s face for a long moment before looking away and fixating on a tree at the meadow’s edge. The bark had an interesting pattern to it. He swallows hard.“I found the stone.”His voice is thick to his ears. There is a flicker of motion on the tree’s trunk. Maybe a squirrel. “I found something else too.” His pulse flutters in his throat, and now his voice is strangely pitched. “I’ve had to fight something to get out of these places.”Deep breath. He shifts his reins to one hand so that he can place his palm on Buttercream’s warm wither. “I don’t know what it was. I fought. It surprised me. And.”Time stretches out. The smell of an underground lake floods his memory.“And…” His tone drops.The sound of water rushing up fills his ears, followed by shattering glass.“Oh, Hylia. It killed me, I think it killed me.”He closes his eyes, returning back to the River Temple of the Zora’s Domain, unable to feel his feet, blood in his mouth, darkness circling. “Link.” Impa’s voice is small and feels far away, but he can anchor to it.“I caught a fairy; if I hadn't caught the fairy…”And then Impa’s hand is on him, jolting him back. He darts his eyes to her fingers encircling his wrist. When was the last time anyone else had touched him? For any reason? He can not draw that information from his mind.“Link, I am so so sorry. I had no idea.” Her fingers squeeze deep into his muscle. “Do you want to talk more about it?”He still can’t meet her eyes. He just shakes his head and swallows again.“Okay. We are just going to stay here for a bit. As long as you’d like.”They sit on the horses for a long time. Link thinks if his father were present, he’d grumble about using the animals as furniture. The sun has moved to the western horizon when he finally pushes his heels into Buttercream’s sides and moves her back to the road where the two guards wait, patient on the surface, though their eyes tell him a different story. The party rides on another few hours, the only sounds the shod hooves of the horses keeping a steady, slow pace. The silence among the humans feels stiff and impatient to him. They break at twilight and set camp swiftly. The silence continues through dinner. Link has never known a day as long as this one. Impa offers to take watch. Link gathers up the mess kits to clean in the stream running along the road. By the time he is back, the guards have settled down for the night. He isn’t sure if they are sleeping or not.He sets his bedroll out by the fire and lowers himself down. Every inch of him feels dipped in slowly hardening mortar, but he can’t bring himself to sleep. He props himself up on his elbows and looks up at the sky, seeking constellations. Just as he finds the tiny cluster, the Golden Goddesses, Impa drops herself next to him and leans into him, pressing against his side. His skin prickles with the contact, unexpected and yet welcome. Her lips are almost brushing his ear, but what she has to say to him is more than whispered endearments.“It’s good to talk about this, but only when you’re ready.” Her voice is soft and clear, only for him. “Your mind doesn’t know the difference between the memory and the event.”He takes a deep breath through his mouth and holds it.“When you remember, it's like it’s happening again. When you talk about it before you’re ready, it’s like it is happening again. But you have to remember, Link, you lived.”He closes his eyes.“You lived.”He swallows hard around a lump in his throat.“Even if you think you just got lucky, you still lived and the beast died. And the beast is dead because of you.”He keeps perfectly still, not wanting her to leave.“Do you understand? You lived.”He nods, just once, a small motion.“You lived. Remember.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A month after dying in the River Land ruins, he is in his room at the castle on his back in bed, hands over his eyes, trying to remind himself that he killed the beast that killed him. He’d won. Impa asked him to remember that he’d slain the creature who killed him. Every time he thought about what happened, he had to also remember he’d won. It wasn’t easy to do. She still reminds him, whispering you won when she sees him.Zelda had asked him to her office every day for the past week. The first day he just didn’t go, and went out to the yard with the sword instead. He dances with the Sword that Seals the Darkness every day now, sometimes more than once. The next day, he went to her office but said he had nothing to say, and she dismissed him. Impa met him on his way out and offered to spar in the yard with him. He turned her down and went to the yard alone. This went on four days in a row before he agreed to take on the Sheikah woman in the yard, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.She turns out to be a worthy opponent. When he does his forms alone, he often gets lost in the moment, moving from muscle memory, mind freed of thinking about what he was doing. He does not have that luxury with a partner. She is quick on her feet and her style is unusual enough he has to stay alert to where she is, lest she disarm or check him. They finally agree to a draw and step back from each other. He is warm, breathing a little heavily... and a little tiny bit more like himself. Just a little. “How was that?” she asks. “That was good. We can definitely do that again.”“How are you doing? Really?”Oh. He is not sure how much to trust her. Sheikah have always been a bit of a mystery to him. But she already knows what he carries with him. “Not really great? I try to remember I killed it, but it’s always after it killed me.”Impa steps forward, fierce light in her red brown eyes, and puts a hand on his shoulder. He can see that the eye on her forehead is smudged - so it’s paint, not a tattoo like he’d thought. Her voice is soft but direct. “You won, Hero.”Inside, he winces a little bit. “If you are ready, you should tell the queen. I fear we do not have time for you to be fully recovered from this before we need to move forward. If sparring helps you, we can do this every day. We can do it right before you see her. I can have her set the meeting in a less formal place. But you need to say something to her, and I am truly sorry if you’re not quite ready.”He breaks her gaze and looks off toward the stable, finding a horse to focus on. He draws a breath and stops. “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe.”She squeezes his shoulder and walks off.The following day he is summoned to Zelda’s parlor instead of her office. It’s much less formal. There’s a couch and a low table set with tea and cookies. She is curled against one of the arms of the couch; also looking less formal without her diadem, blonde hair tucked behind her ears and secured with a crystal-covered clip at her temples. Her gown is casual as well. It’s like she is meeting him as a person and not an object this time. She smiles when he enters the room, and motions to the other end of the couch. He quickly looks for another spot to sit, but the only other chair in the room is occupied by a sleeping calico cat. He takes a seat, sitting ramrod straight, staring forward, hands clutching his thighs. He digs a thumbnail deep enough into his flesh to be distracting.
Oh, this was a bad idea today. You killed the beast last.
“Link.” Her voice is soft and kind. “Impa thought this would be a better place to meet. Please make yourself comfortable.”He doesn’t move for a long time. She pours some tea and takes a cookie. He looks at the cat, still sleeping in a sunbeam. Zelda takes her time, but she places the delicate empty tea cup down before he has made a move.“Link. I want to help you, but I can’t if you cannot tell me what you need.” She leans to him, reaching a hand to his shoulder. “Please. Tell me what happened to you.”He inhales deeply, bringing his left hand to his forehead, avoiding her eyes. “I. I died in that river temple, Your Maj—Zelda. I died faster than I could get a potion. If I had not caught that fairy…” He does not want to think about that too hard. It is so hard to hear it out loud, to say it.. It had been so very fast, one minute on his feet, doing battle, and the next actively dying, feeling his light go out. He grinds to a stop, hands now gripping the cushion beneath him, his mind mired in the strike, the glass, the blood. He closes his eyes, counts several breaths, as tears well up despite him willing them to stop. He is going to tough this out alone. Somewhere in the distance, he hears her get up, and feels a weight on the couch next to him. There are arms around him and she is whispering “It’s ok, Link, you’re ok, you’re safe now, you’re safe here. You’re here. You won.” He stays locked in his own head, just listening to her repeat his name and how safe it is before he considers believing her, and when he does, he remembers that he slew the creature that killed him. He softens into her embrace, and maybe he really is safe. Maybe. He allows himself a sob, and she pulls him in closer. He reaches an arm around her and holds her fiercely, the mark on his right hand warms as he does so.He gradually comes back out of his head, and reminds himself that he won. Slowly, he is aware that Zelda rests her face on top of his head, and gently strokes his hair. It feels good, comfortable. He wonders how long he has been desperately clutching the Queen of Hyrule while she brushes her lips over the crown of his head.He pulls himself out of that space between her neck and shoulder, and finds himself inches from her face staring into her eyes. They are a cool sky blue, with tiny darker flecks, set into her face with tiny wrinkles his mother called laugh lines. He wonders how it sounds when she laughs. He drops his eyes to her lips. How might her lips feel on his? Her hand is still in his hair. He flushes to the tips of his ears and pulls himself back abruptly.Zelda’s eyes widen, and she draws back as well. They both stare forward for a moment. His heart is galloping and he is wondering what just happened. She speaks up, and does she sound a little...awkward?“My boys liked to have their hair stroked when they were upset. It seemed right.”He darts his eyes toward her. She is still looking forward. “It’s ok. I found it. Comforting.” His scalp still tingles where her fingers rested. “I... am going to go now.” He tentatively runs a finger over the edge of his right ear, as though trying to recall her touch. “You are dismissed.”Impa is waiting in the hall. “Oh.” He rushes his words. “We are going to spar right now.”“Did you speak to her?”“I did and we are going to the yard.”They spar, but he is distracted and aggressive, and Impa stops it with a sharp word. Is he sure things went well with the Queen? He says yes, but he isn’t really sure. He has a nightmare that night. There is no fairy in a bottle in his pack, and when he breaks against the wall he wakes up gasping for air. You won you won you won. A week goes by. He spends it trying to be physically active, and not on thinking. He offers to spar with anyone who will take him on, and he moves through forms when no one is willing. He convinces the riding master to start teaching him dressage. The activity distracts him, and gives him less time to dwell on how he died. Or a loving hand on his head. At least, during the day. Night is different. The dreams aren’t always about the River Temple, either. Sometimes it’s an open area under a night sky and he is facing a dark presence he can’t quite see, but it’s somehow familiar. Sometimes she is with him, as well, offering magical support to his steel. This battle never starts, it’s always just the faceoff. He sits up in his bed, sorting through things his brother had told him and memories of past heroes. What is coming, exactly? He is out in the yard swinging the Master Sword before a small crowd, and being a bit more showy with the blade than he might be alone. He has grown stronger with his daily practice; it’s good to work. He ends, flourishing the blade before sending it home to its sheath, and hears Impa call his name over a smattering of applause.“Master Link! The Queen requests you for a meeting immediately.”“Immediately?” He is suddenly conscious of how dirty he is. “Immediately; that’s why she sent me to fetch you.” She gives him a grin. “She has smelled sweaty boys before. Come.” And that is how he finds himself in her office, disheveled and still feeling sticky. She greets him with a warm smile, and he thinks there’s a sparkle in her eye.“Hard at work, I see.”“Always. I’m curious as to what was so urgent I could not clean up first.”“How much do you know about the stories that surround those who bear the Master Sword?” Like that, she is all business. He undoes his baldric and settles into a chair, leaning the sword against it and loosely crossing his arms.“Some. I cannot say I thought those stories were true until recently.” She folds her hands in front of her and waits. He is never quite sure what to feel when she does this. Today, he just meets her eyes and tries to sit still even though his heart and brain race. After a long moment, she leans forward and offers her right hand.“Link, take my hand,”He looks at her hand, and then back at her, unsure. Tentatively, he reaches for her, feeling the mark and the back of his right hand warm as he closes the distance. She interlaces her fingers with his. He takes a deep breath, not sure what to expect. “I am worried for you. Things are going to get worse as we move forward. I want you to know we are in this together.”He nods. There’s a tiny little rodent nibbling at the back of his mind. Fear. Non-specific, free-floating fear. “I do not know what form the bearer of the Triforce of Power has taken, but that is who haunts us, so. They are testing you.”Link closes his eyes and huffs out a sigh. He finds himself wanting. He can only imagine what a minor deity hoping to ultimately beat him thinks of his performance. In his head, he thinks he hears glass breaking. She squeezes his hand, and his eyelids flutter open. Her eyes are so blue. “We have to trust that we will be ready for what is to come, but only if we prepare in the meanwhile. We still need the rest of the portal stones. I am not sure yet what role they play, but it seems they are still important.”He grips her hand a little more. “Are we sure that sending me out to find these isn’t just a way to reveal my weaknesses?”She tightens her jaw a little and swallows. Her eyes soften. “I’ve considered that, Link. I don’t know that we have a choice. Impa and I have thought that it would be best for you to go to the Lost Woods next. She will ride with you and wait.”“I apologize if I overstep myself, Zelda.” His voice is a stage whisper because he thinks it might break if he is louder. “But I would like to be included on future discussions like that.”“As you wish.” She takes her hand back. “Please be careful, Link.”Once again, Impa is waiting in the hall. “The Lost Woods? That’s a real place?” He is not sure why anything surprises him anymore. Impa nods. “We will ride in the morning.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Time moves differently in the Lost Woods.It’s never day or night inside the woods. It’s always the low light of twilight on a foggy evening. He takes care, having heard so many stories of what happens to careless travelers who lose their way. Surely he’s been in here hours already, but the light never changes. He isn’t tired, he isn’t hungry. He just is. For a while he thinks he has just been going in circles. He is pretty sure he has seen that particular twisted limb on that particular shattered tree before. Things seem to move in the fog, but when he tries to look at them directly, they are gone. There is almost no ambient sound, just his footsteps on a dense carpet of dead, dry leaves. Sometimes he stops, trying to get his bearings and find the path he should be on. Sometimes he needs to remind himself that he won, and that’s getting a little easier to do. Sometimes he thinks he can feel her hand in his hair. Sometimes he wonders how this all came to be. Sometimes things get strange, as he wanders on in the relative silence. He thinks the distance between him and past wielders of the blade grows shorter at times. Once he thought his steps were joined by a golden wolf with one eye. This was one creature that did not immediately vanish when he tried to look at it. Instead, it seemed to judge him a moment, much the way Zelda did, and then it continued on its way. He wasn’t sure when it stopped walking with him, but it disappeared as quietly as it had arrived. Every now and then, he sees a fairy, and when he does he stops to watch it bumble about. He doesn’t have a bottle, so he doesn’t try to catch them. He quietly thanks the ones he sees. There’s a lot of time to think.He thinks about Impa’s theory on the portal stones. She seems to think that they were to open a portal to whatever world they linked to and seal their opponent behind it. That is to be Zelda’s role, apparently, driving the final nail while he provides distraction and protection. She speaks with confidence, but he wonders how she’d come to her conclusions. He tries to find weak spots in her ideas as he walks–was that the same twisted limb again? He isn’t sure there’s quite enough information to have a weak spot. There are clearly things they don’t know about, but he has no idea what they might be. He thinks about Zelda. She’s gone from a thing to him–the Queen of Hyrule–to a person. She is tough, but she had seemed genuinely scared the last time they had spoken. He wonders if she still thinks of him as a tool, the Hero of Hyrule, or if he is starting to be just Link for her. He hopes so. He thinks he would like to know her as a friend. Maybe more. That is likely more than he should hope for, but he can hope. That will keep him going as he continues around the woods for what felt like weeks. Maybe months. Maybe longer. He finally stumbles into the heart of what the Lost Woods hides, and it is sunny and green, no longer continually twilight. The light moves with the hour again. It feels safe, and he is finally tired. There is a huge tree at the center of this oasis. He makes his way to it, finding a spot he can curl up and sleep for a while, hoping he isn’t making a mistake in doing so - but oh, he is so tired. Celia comes to him in a dream again, but it’s also not her. Her curves are familiar, but her auburn hair is blonde, and her green eyes are blue. She still tastes like mangos, but when she whispers his name in his ear, it’s not quite her voice. He knows the voice, though. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and sighs. He makes some tea and ponders the past relationships between Links and Zeldas. The hero’s story always seems to end once the final beast is slain. The Triforce of Courage gets put away until it is needed again. How do the two pieces at the base of the triangle work together?The one with the bird seemed to have loved her from the start. The one who was a wolf traveled with a different princess. The one with the ocarina (what was an ocarina) had known her when they were both children, but Link thought he might have ended up with someone else. A couple of them were so young, they probably didn’t understand how very interesting another person could be. Some of them finished their service and left, some of them... stayed, maybe?He shakes his head, wanting to push whatever these feelings were away, while wanting to hold them close at the same time. Surely this is the result of all the alone time and nothing more. Is he a fool to hope?
“It is good to see you back here, Hero. It has been so very long.”
It is not the exact same voice he heard outside the Forest Temple, but it has the same otherworldly quality to it. Clutching his mug in both hands, back to the great tree, he slowly scans the area with both eyes and ears, seeking the source.
“Don’t be afraid, chosen of Farore. You have come here for a good reason.”
He takes one hand off his mug and uses it to steady himself against the tree as he rises to his feet. “Show yourself.” There’s a chuckle, but it seems good hearted and friendly.
“Behind you, brave one. You sought out my shelter to rest.”
The tree. It’s the tree. He slowly turns, but he is too close to see much, so he carefully steps back until he can see the rough shape of a face on the trunk. There’s definitely going to be a dragon before this is over. It seems to recognize him, and it seems friendly. How does one respectfully address a tree?“I’m sorry, it seems you know me while I have not had the honor of your name.”
“My apologies. I am the Great Deku Tree, and you have come to the Kokiri Forest. By coming to this place, you have proven yourself worthy of that sword on your back. There is one more trial for you here before you may pass back to Hyrule.”
Link’s heart drops a little. Is he going to have to fight the giant tree?
“Fear not, Hero of Hyrule, you have already begun.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will. Tell me about you. You are much older than most who have stood where you do. You must have much to tell.”
That’s how it starts. He loses track of how long he’s with the tree. It may have been months. He is not exactly alone, but the Children of the Forest seem especially shy around him. He is too far removed from his own childhood, he supposed. If he is still and quiet and very lucky, he might catch a glimpse. They develop a routine, where he starts his day doing forms with his sword and then spends time telling the tree stories. About how he broke his leg, the first time he ever saw the Master Sword, how years later it came out of the stone for him. He tells stories about the Forest Temple and skates around the River Temple. He talks about Zelda, how he thought he was a tool for her at first, and how kind she actually is, how he learned that she does care about him as a person. He keeps to himself how pretty he finds her, and how blue her eyes are, how her hand felt in his hair. How he had a moment where he wondered what it would be like to kiss her, before he came to his senses. How she whispers his name to him at night. The tree asks about Zelda a lot. He doesn’t mind talking about her. Perhaps a year goes by. He finally tells the tree about the day he died in the River Temple. How it had felt when the head of the monster struck him, hard enough to throw him back into a wall. The sound the glass made as it broke. The way his feet suddenly were not there and the awful coppery taste of blood in his mouth. How dark everything went. And how beautiful the fairy looked as it spiraled over his head and vanished after bringing him back from wherever he had briefly gone. How he then ended the beast with his sacred blade. Finally; it did not hurt, as much, to tell the entire story. The next day he stands before the tree, prepared for more questions.
“Hero, it is time for you to seek your destiny beyond these woods. You have negotiated your trials here with courage and you are worthy. Go back to the Incarnation of Hylia and tell her the remaining stones she seeks are in the Gerudo Desert and the Island of Illusion. She will be needed for the final battle, too. You must work as a team.”
He is puzzled by this proclamation. “My understanding is that there are five portal stones. I was sent here for the third, but I haven't found whatever wreckage I am to go through to find it. I haven't engaged whatever beast lurks at its center.”The tree chuckles. “But, Hero, you have done both here.” He doesn’t really understand, but he accepts the polished opal and another crystal heart and heads back into the woods, along a route the tree assures him is a shortcut back to his world. When he stumbles back out of the woods, he is shocked to see that Impa is still camped in the clearing. Surely she would have gone back to the castle by now, as he has spent years inside the woods, talking to the tree and figuring out his worth. She seems surprised to see him.“Did you get lost already; you just went in?” She leans forward a bit and narrows her eyes. “I think you have more grey in your hair. What happened to you in the past hour?”An hour. He has been gone an hour. “It’s different in there, Impa. I feel like I was there far longer than an hour. Maybe years. I would like to see Zelda, as fast as possible. I have things to tell her.”Impa furrows her brow, clearly confused. “It’s too late to break camp. We will ride back in the morning. Are you sure?”He nods. “I’m sure.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When he enters her office, her head is down, studying some book she has open. He pauses at the doorway to really look at her, feeling his heart rise at the sight of her. He’s so glad to see her, it feels like it’s been so long. He wishes he could ask her to take a walk down the beach in Lurelin, and smiles at the idea.
She looks up at him, returns the smile and tilts her head a little. “Welcome back, Link.”
Oh, to finally hear her voice again. “It’s good to see you,” he says warmly.
“You’re different today.”
He stops. “Is that bad?”
She gives her head a small shake. “It’s like you wear yourself more comfortably.”
“I think I do. I have had a lot of time to think, Zelda.”
He presents her with the opal and tells her about his time in the Woods, about the wolf who walked with him, and the Great Tree he told stories to.
“I agree with the Deku Tree. It’s time for us to work more closely. Gerudo, then. We will travel together. Perhaps we can get better acquainted.”
He thinks he will like that.
A few days later, they are off. The Queen on her white grey gelding, Link on a garish bay pinto mare, a couple of the royal guard for support, and Impa on a fleet-footed little dun. There is at least a week on the road before them.
It is mid-afternoon on the first day of travel when she rides up next to him. “Tell me about yourself, Hero.”
The title still doesn’t sit well with him; he is still trying to fit into it. “What’s there to tell? You seemed to know everything about me at our first meeting.” He keeps his tone light and humorous.
She slows her horse a bit to let him catch up, then turns to look him dead in the eye. “Statistics do not make the person, Link. Yes, I can point to facts about your life, but who are you behind them?”
He marvels a little. She wants to know more about him. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your family. I know they breed good horses. I think you’re mounted on a horse from their farm, but who are they?”
Wow, ok.
“Well.” Where to begin. He is silent for a moment, focusing on the motion of the horse under him. “My father loves horses, maybe more than anything. He is a tough man.”
Don’t come back.
“I’m afraid the last time I saw him... it did not go well. My mother is very worried about me.”
“Mothers do that.” She pauses. Prior to leaving, she passed rule temporarily to her oldest son, and left him with a group of trusted advisors. She must be worried, too. “You’re the youngest, right?”
“I have an older brother, and a sister-in-law, and a nephew. Kagun will probably take over the horses at some point.” He smiles a little, thinking of his brother. “It’s funny, he is very interested in stories that surround the Master Sword, though trying to draw it once was enough for him. He told me a lot about some of the ones who had this before me.”
“What did he think when you drew it?”
“I think he was excited with the idea of it. He was happy to try and teach me things he knew and he wanted me to have faith in myself.” Link turns his gaze forward, looking at the road between his mare’s ears. “I wish he were with me now. I’d appreciate his thoughts on things. He said the sword doesn’t make the wrong choice.”
Though I still wonder.
They ride in silence for a moment before she asks, “Did you ever want to settle down and have a family?”
He looks over at her, startled by the inquiry, but she just looks curious. “If that’s too personal…” she starts.
“No, it’s ok. It’s just. I’m military and I moved constantly and I never thought it would be fair to someone else who had not signed up for it. I know others do it, it never sat right with me.”
“But did you want to?”
This was never something he looked at very closely or very often. He frowns a little bit. “I don’t really know. It never seemed like an option with the life I chose. I don’t think I would have been a good husband or dad, being away so much.”
He goes quiet.
“I know some think I’m a bit of a heart breaker, but I never got involved with anyone without being up front about not being permanent. I just don’t think I’ve been ready to tie myself to a single place. Maybe when this is over. I don’t know.”
Silence again. He focuses on the sounds of shod hooves on the road, thinking about his last visit home and to Lurelin. How has he gone his entire life without seeing what a bunch of messes he’d made?
He finally speaks up. “I don’t really feel like more conversation right now.”
Before she can answer, he clucks his mare to a jog, and then a canter.
He keeps to himself until they break for camp, and ignores the small talk over dinner. As soon as he can break away, he does so, taking his drink with him, hoping to get out of his head for a bit.
He finds a small rise, perfect for stargazing and contemplation. He stands, back to camp, looking up at the night sky, a cup of mulled wine in one hand. He scans the stars, looking for familiar patterns and trying to recall the stories behind them. He doesn’t hear her behind him until she places a hand on his shoulder and says his name. He startles hard enough to choke and nearly spills his wine.
“HYLIA. Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“I’m sorry.” There’s a glint in her eye that makes him think she is laughing to herself.
They stand in silence for a moment. “I feel like I may have overstepped my bounds earlier and I came to offer apologies. I did not mean for you to reveal things that were painful for you.”
“Thank you.” He considers elaborating and stops himself.
She breaks the awkward silence. “What are you doing out here?”
“Looking for constellations.” He swings his gaze to the eastern sky and points. “Do you see that collection of five stars in sort of a ‘W’ shape? That is called the King of the Red Lions, but it’s a boat of some sort.”
“I know some of these, too. That group of three are the Golden Goddesses.” She points to a spot in front of them, just above the horizon. “And if you take that point and look west, you can see The Wind Fish.”
They gaze into the night sky a little longer before Link suggests they both turn in, and they go their separate ways.
The next day they ride out and it feels much more easy between them. They talk about Hateno and he tells her about the first time he saw the Master Sword in its block in the Temple of Time, about how excited he was to touch it, and then how nothing happened. She tells him about growing up in the court, and her first ball, how she stumbled during her first dance in the heeled shoes she had to wear, how she thought it was funny, but her mother was mortified. He tells her about how he’d seen her once, across a large room, when she had still been Princess Zelda, and he’d just been one of maybe a dozen young men named Link in a class full of recruits at some ceremony or another.
Two or three nights later, they camp at the edge of the desert. The sky is clear, the moon just a sliver. As they finish up dinner, Link looks at the stars, filled with wonder at just how many there are. Gerudo had been his first post and he is still thrilled by the beauty of the desert sky at night. Impulsively, he invites her to come look at constellations with him.
She accepts.
They head out a little ways from camp, and Link finds some stone rising from the sand to sit on. They look up into the night time sky, a million tiny points of light shining down, and name the shapes they see. The Angler Fish. The octorock. Aquamentus. She puts her hands on the stone to lean back a little. He’s supposed to be Courage, right? He places his hand over hers and turns his gaze to the sky, feeling his pulse quicken. When she intertwines his fingers with hers, his heart skips a beat.
They sit in silence. It would be ok if this night stretched forever, he thinks.
Eventually, he darts his eyes to the side to look at her. She has oh-so-slightly turned her face toward him. He turns to meet her gaze and melts.
The starlight frames her face so well, her blonde hair is ethereal and almost glows. He wonders if she would like it if he were to bite her ear lobe, just a little. He wonders how she tastes, and how she smells up close. Heart pounding, he leans toward her... and stops himself short. He can smell her. Vanilla and lilacs. He is still eye to eye with her. He is acutely aware how heavily he is breathing, and surely she can see his pulse at his throat.
And then she leans into him, bringing her lips to his ear and whispering, “Is this a bad idea?”
This is a great idea.
But what he says is, “You’re the wise one.”
They stay in this tableau for a while, neither moving, each listening to the other breathe, and finally she takes his other hand and sits back, holding both his hands in her lap. His heart gallops, and he takes deep, slow breaths to steady himself, hoping that whatever has gone here has not hurt something delicate he hoped to cultivate. Finally, she leans forward again, places a hand on the side of his face and gives him a chaste kiss on the other cheek. “Maybe now is not the right time.”
“Will there be a right time?” he whispers back.
She doesn’t answer, but squeezes his hands before letting go of him and standing up. “We should go back...”
A small sigh escapes him and he nods, standing up to escort her back. He almost takes her hand, but doesn’t, not sure if it would be welcomed.
It’s a very long night for him.
He takes his coffee black in the morning, feeling tired and grumpy, not looking forward to a day of travel and trying to see the silver lining of having a bed tonight. It’s already hot, and the horses are sweaty and quiet. He is layered in chainmail and the green tunic, and the goddesses-damned hat. He has decided he is just going to be quietly miserable until they are outside Gerudo town and he can find someone he knows.
The going is slow, despite the road they are on, and there is no conversation among them. It is early evening before the walls of Gerudo Town rise in the distance. By the time they arrive and pass the horses to the barracks, Link is more than ready to eat and turn in. He and the guardsman stay outside the city proper–men are not allowed–while Zelda and Impa find rooms inside. He splurges on a bath, scouring off a week of travel and thinking before turning in.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He knows he’s dreaming; but even so, he can’t change what has been happening. He is not sure he is really himself. He catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror (
so many mirrors
) and his hair is darker, he is so much younger - a teenager for certain and a lot more angry looking. He must be living someone else’s experiences in his head.
It is one undead thing after another in his way in this former prison in the desert. The going is treacherous and sometimes he needs to change his form (somehow? He isn’t sure) and he needs some strange tool to get to the final chamber. He has the same shield and he has the same sword, but there’s another presence with him, too,
(
midna
?)
that he can’t quite figure out. There’s a final dance in that final chamber with a huge animated skeletal creature and an army of the undead, but in the end the stal and its minions fall to his sword. He is triumphant, and for once stays on his feet, waiting for the way out to appear.
Instead, there’s a low rumble of laughter that fills the chamber.
“Hylia, have you tired of sending children in your stead? Are you sending an old man in your name now?”
He swivels his head, looking for the source.
“Who do you think you are? Do you really think you are worthy of that tunic you wear?”
Do you?
Really?
Link, wake up.
And like that, he is in his bunk in the barracks, on his back, staring at the ceiling. The back of his right hand is burning. He sits up and stares at the Triforce glowing under his skin, huffing a deep sigh.
It's already a long day.
He’d only been twenty when he was sent to the desert with another dozen or so young men. The Gerudo outpost was a relatively new one, as negotiations between central Hyrule and the Gerudo had only settled to a comfortable level in the past decade or so. The desert had been so exotic after a few years in central Hyrule, another universe entirely from Hateno.
He quickly realizes that he’d forgotten some of the downsides of the region–the hot, dry air that doesn’t move, the way sand got into everything, how precious water is, the sun’s brutality. His first week, he managed to burn the tips of his ears, teaching him to cover every bit of his fair skin.
He'd also met Tasako, a young Gerudo recruit. They'd hit it off immediately. He had not met a woman before who could not just hold her own, but best him at combat, and she brought him to yield quickly and easily. They were sparring partners for months before he could finally beat her, and he'd bought the drinks that night at the one tavern with seating outside the city proper. They were three or four in before he had stared at her a little too long, and he really didn’t recall the sequence of events that ended with him waking up with her in a room above the tavern the next morning. They were together the rest of his time there, parting amicably, both recognizing the enlisted soldier in the other. She'd set the tone for him on so many things, and he was happy to see her in whatever the equivalent of the Gerudo Royal Guard was later that day, when his party was formally introduced to the Gerudo Chief. She'd raised an eyebrow at him in recognition, and he gave her a smile back. It was good to see a familiar face.
He manages to message her to meet for dinner and drinks at the tavern. He gets there early and settles at an outdoor table. She arrives as he's enjoying the sunset.
“Ah, it is so good to see you, Tasako, you have no idea.” He embraces the tall woman fiercely, and she returns his affection.
“Link, what are you doing here? I have heard bits of this story and it sounds insane. You have a magic sword now?”
“Yes. The Sword that Seals the Darkness, the Blade Of Evil’s Bane. It has many names and if you’re lucky, I’ll let you gaze upon it later–oh goddesses, that sounds bad.” He is suddenly embarrassed, but she just laughs. Hylians have more shame than necessary, he thinks.
“It’s good to see you, old friend. You’re buying.”
He does, and they spend the evening catching up and telling stories. She’d gotten married at some point and has a teenage daughter. He pulls the sword out and lays it across the table for her to marvel over and make a few double entendres about. They laugh and are loud well into the night.
He is only two drinks in - he hasn’t been able to handle what he could in his twenties for a while - but it’s enough to loosen him up a bit, and he tells her about the night he went stargazing with Zelda on the edge of the desert. She shifts to a more serious mood immediately.
“Are you in love with your queen, now?” She sounds a little incredulous.
He feels himself flush. “What? Ah, no, I don’t, ah... No. Maybe? I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.” She laughs.
“Tas, this isn’t funny.” He shifts in his chair. “I have all these feelings and I don’t know what to do about them. This feels different somehow.”
“Different how?”
He doesn’t have an answer. He just gives his head a shake and stares into his empty glass, wondering if he should get another, knowing it’s probably a bad idea.
“If you have some schoolyard crush, you should just push past it, Link. No one has time for that.” She is serious again. “But if it’s deeper, you should talk to her. I don’t know whatever these stories are about the sword you hold, on the Hylian side – we tell them differently in Gerudo – but if you two are fated to be together, then maybe you should be together.”
The light tone of the evening is gone. He rests his hand on his chin and looks at her across the table. She crosses her arms and meets his gaze. “Mortals love in more different ways, and more deeply than gods ever do. Maybe that’s part of the formula,” she offers.
This is maybe more than he is ready to think about. It’s one thing to worry over his typical romances. The idea that destiny and fate are pushing things is almost too much. He feels what he feels. “I think I’m going to bed. This is making my head hurt and we have meetings tomorrow.”
“Do you want to come home with me? I’m sure Nimaen would love to see you again. There’s enough room in the bedroom for three.” She uncrosses her arms and leans back against the chair with a sly smile.
Link cocks his head. “No. I mean, I’d love to see Nimaen but I want to be alone.”
Tasako throws her head back and laughs. “Not in love with your queen at all. Go nurse your pretty head then, I’ll see you there.”
He doesn’t sleep very much and when he does, he is working his way through variations of the prison in the desert. He only gets as far as unlocking the final door each time. He finally gives up before sunrise, working out his frustrations with the sword in private. He is worn when he is done, and not particularly looking forward to spending the day in discussions about where he might be sent off to next, but he'd asked to be part of these conversations.
He regrets that request later. No one drinks coffee in Gerudo. It’s all tea, and even when he brews it until it’s bitter, it’s not helping him focus on anything. He tries to look attentive while Zelda and Impa negotiate and gather information, but his understanding of the discussions is pretty basic. Of course there’s some wreckage out in the desert that’s haunted. There might be several haunted wrecks in the desert. Of course no one goes near any of them.
Some past hero, maybe more than one, is fretting about the role the Gerudo sometimes play in this dance of gods and fate. He has long wondered about the apparent lack of men among the people of the desert, but also decided he just wasn’t smart enough to deal with any theories about them. It doesn’t feel like it’s time for a final showdown though. He is tired, physically, emotionally, and he is ready for all of this to be done so he can go be retired.
“Link? Link? Do you want to weigh in on this?” It’s Impa’s voice that finally pushes through his thoughts. He pulls himself into the present, and everyone at the table - Impa, the Gerudo Chief, the guards and Zelda - are staring at him. He wonders how long they’ve been trying to get his attention.
“I’m sorry. I have not been sleeping well, and I’ve had a lot on my mind. I should have been paying attention.”
No one says anything. They just continue to stare. He closes his eyes and sighs. “Were any of these places a prison?”
As it turns out, yes, one of those haunted wrecks in the desert had been a prison. Six months ago, it had been unthinkable to make plans based on scraps of dreams, but six months ago seems like another lifetime. In his head, it’s been longer than six months - he has no idea how long he was in the Lost Woods. But he has directions, rough ones, to get to the wreck in question, and he has supplies, and it’s time to head out again.
He has one thing to do first. If he doesn’t do it before he goes, he might never do it. He meets with Zelda in an office in the barracks.
“Zelda. If I may talk freely, I would like to discuss the night before we made it to Gerudo.” He hopes he appears cool, because inside he isn’t. A tide of anxiety rises within him.
She says nothing for a long moment. “Yes, we should.” Like that, she serves the conversation back to him. He has no idea where she might stand.
He swallows. “I think, ah. We both know we are entangled on some deeper level. Maybe we are supposed to have feelings for each other?” He suddenly feels naked. “When I first saw you, I felt something. I was so overwhelmed at the time with all that was going on in my head then, that I wrote it off. But I wonder now.”
“Link.” Her voice is soft and kind. “We have the fate of Hyrule to protect.”
“Yes. That is what brings us together. Fate and all, parts of the same puzzle. But don’t you ever wonder why goddesses and fates seem to need to work though living people? What can we do that they can’t?” He runs a hand through his hair. These are big concepts for him. “What if being human is what makes this successful? Otherwise, why do they need us?
“We were the people we were first. We are still who we are, we should still be who we are and I think part of who I am wants to be with you. I think we are supposed to be together?
“I think you feel these things, too, Zelda.”
He folds his hands in his lap and waits for her to respond. He forces himself to keep his eyes on her, when he’d much rather look away.
“That is a lot to think about,” she finally says. “Link, I care about you. I care about you quite a bit. There is a lot at stake here, and we are both old enough. Old enough to ignore distractions like this. Yes, there seems to be something between us. This isn’t the time for it.”
She is right, of course. But he was hoping to hear something different.
“And before you ask, I don’t know if there will be time for it. We need to get beyond this right now.”
He feels knots on his insides, but he thinks he sounds more measured. “Thank you, Zelda.” He makes himself walk out and decides to see if he can get someone from the Gerudo guard to spar with him.
He thinks back on that conversation as he stands on a large, flat chunk of sandstone, taking in the place that holds the next step in this journey. Another rotting ruin. Another monster at its heart. Another prize to collect. He wonders why he needs to be in this role, but the sword no longer seems to be taking that question.
If the last two dungeons he had to find had been little more than a hole in the ground, this one is a proper ruin. It is several stories high, and there’s a wide marble staircase leading to the entryway, flanked with broken columns. Sand drifts onto the stairs and erodes the carvings on the sides of the structure, making them unreadable. It must have been a colosseum at some point, though he wastold it had been a penitentiary for high profile prisoners. Had trials and executions been public? Small wonder the grounds are haunted. It is such a big, imposing place. He hopes he can find the map quickly.
It also looks so much like the place he has been dreaming about since he had arrived. He feels confident he may already know some of the surprises inside, but remembers the beast in the River Temple.
And he remembers he won.
He starts up the steps.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He stands at the top of the steps. The floor has collapsed, but he thinks he knew that. It isn’t exactly as he’s seen it in his dreams. It’s in worse shape; with parts of the ceiling caved in, places blocked off. He’ll need to improvise.
The sand on the floor almost seems to be flowing. He expected that. There are stone platforms spaced about and he knows that they will sink under his weight. He knows that the sand will eventually swallow him if he simply tries to cross it. He will have to plan his route well, and execute it quickly if he is to get deeper into the ruin.
He plans. He darts between the platforms and makes it to a more solid part of the floor, panting and feeling a twinge in his left leg. This isn’t going to be kind to him, and he will need to take care as he proceeds.
He finds the next passage he needs. It's dark. He thinks he hears a soft (
tinkle of broken glass
) clicking sound, bone on bone, maybe, coming from its depths. As quietly as he can, he draws the sword and takes a breath. If this is like his dreams, this place is full of dead things that lurch and hunt. He plunges into the passageway, swinging the blade. He feels it connect more than once, knocking stal monsters to one side or the other. He pushes through them, hoping he hasn’t picked a dead end, and that eventually there’s an end to them. When he finds a connecting passage, something urges him to take it, and to be aware of the shifting sand on the floor. He darts his way across the sand that wants to drag him down, to the stone platforms that will only bear him a moment, and finally ends in a room with a solid floor. And a wooden chest.
He is confused by what he finds inside. Some sort of armor? A weapon? Both? It seems like a metal tube with a handle and chain wrapped around inside as well. There is a three pronged hook-like claw at the end. He’s never seen anything like it and had no idea what to make of it.
(That’s the hookshot the clawshot)
There is some excitement over this discovery, voices overlapping as it’s named, though it wasn’t really clear why. He hooks it onto his belt and starts planning his next move. Surely there is a map nearby.
He works his way through the passages, darting over shifting sand when needed, stopping to rest when his leg has had enough for the moment. There are dead things to fight through sometimes, stals and even an actual redead or three. There’s also time to think about where he’s been and where he seems to be going. He is starting to feel angry about things as they are and enjoys exploring that emotion. It’s unfair he is carrying this burden when all he ever really wanted was just to continue to trundle along.
Yes
. Unfair.
He continues on, lashing out at the undead in his path with renewed vigor, and he finds his map and a key of old, polished bone. The keys have all been such lovely things; this one is no exception. The head is intricate and delicately carved, slightly yellow with age. He wonders who made these keys and locked up the nightmares with them. He already knows the why.
As he works his way deeper, closer to the heart of the maze, he finds he needs to stop. Emotionally, physically, he is exhausted, and he should sleep before taking on whatever the final challenge might be. He takes care to find as safe a place as possible. He hasn’t slept well since they arrived in the desert. He finally finds a raised alcove in an empty hallway that he can tuck into. The dead don’t seem to roam this particular passage, and once he is satisfied with that, he rests.
He thinks he is awake when she calls his name, and he wonders what she is doing here. He doesn’t quite see her - he can’t make out her face, and he isn’t sure if she is his Zelda or not. She is wearing a white dress that flows around her like water and she is haloed in light. He asks her what she wants from him. She does not answer him, but she seems so kind and gentle and so very worried. She reaches out to touch his face, but never connects, and he wakes up, confused and agitated.
He takes the bone key from his pack and studies it again. Maybe it's been carved from a single femur from some huge creature, and maybe it's been cleverly pieced together. It is old, and its surface has been rubbed smooth and shiny. Time to go find the lock for it. It should be close.
There are a few more twists and turns, and he finds the room with a lock made of bone. There’s a skeletal creature picked out in bone decorating the door. A stal, then. A big one, but still a stal. The key turns in the lock easily, and he steps through the door, waiting to hear it slam down behind him... and it doesn’t. He turns to face the door, and... nothing.
Well.
He surveys the room, trying to figure out why the pattern has fallen apart. There’s some sort of lock in the center of the floor, but it's huge. He's found nothing that might fit in it, and on closer inspection it appears so full of sand it might not turn anyway.
Now what?
He closes his eyes and turns his face upwards, shoulders slumped, heaving a deep, frustrated sigh. He tries to settle his mind and figure out what to do next. When he opens his eyes, he spots an opening in the wall far above his head. How to get there.
(the hookshot the hookshot use that)
Curious, he takes the device off his belt. There’s a handhold inside it. The excited swirls in his head suggest that he should aim this thing at something and it will help him get there somehow. He tests it out by pointing it back at the door he’d come through. He squeezes his fingers on the handle to trigger it.
The device makes a sharp
foom
of air rushing through it.
He barely registers that it's fired when he is jerked off his feet, his shoulder nearly yanked from his body. He is dragged across the room as the chain pulls him in. He runs, stumbling, before he gets hurt.
Okay then.
He looks back up at the opening in the wall, frowning. It’s not going to be a fun ride up.
He experiments with aiming the hookshot a few times on level ground before thinking he might be able to fire it at the right spot on that opening. There was some sort of metal railing set into the wall; that might be the right spot to latch onto.
Finally, he picks out a spot that will land him close enough to the opening high up on the wall and allow him to swing inside to see what lurks there. He switches the device to his left arm and aims. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and gives his head a single slow shake before squeezing the handle.
FOOM
He feels the claw connect and he is jerked into the air, muscle and tendons in his shoulder painfully stretching, threatening to snap. In seconds he abruptly stops, claw dug onto the railing, his feet on the wall. The opening is to his right, and it’s close enough he should be able to swing over and inside. It takes a few tries, but he finally makes it in, disengaging the hookshot without losing it. It’s an awkward entrance. His left shoulder is on fire, and he knows he’ll barely be able to use it. He stumbles, but is on his feet again quickly.
And then bars slam down behind him. Here it is, then.
The chamber is a huge circular room with what seems to be a pit in the center. There’s a walkway around this pit that is barely large enough for one person to navigate. There is a skeleton in the pit, but it’s nothing like he has ever seen before. The skull alone is the size of a horse, and the spine and forelegs are proportional to it. The rib cage could house a small family, and then the spine trails off. Either this creature lacks hind limbs or they have gone missing.
Maybe this is the dragon he’s been expecting.
He takes a step toward it, shield and sword at the ready but the skeleton remains quiet. He slowly approaches, waiting for the tiniest bit of motion. He gets right to the edge of the pit and the skeleton has not moved. Has this beast died on its own and whoever set the trial up failed to notice?
He leans forward, just a bit, to study what is before him. Half of a gigantic skeletal creature. Floor apparently hard ground, though he seems to think it should be sand. A metal rail around the edge, twisted and broken on the far side. Should he drop into the pit? How to do that safely? He looks across to the broken rail and thinks he can use that to make the drop shorter and safer. He can use the hookshot to get back up, though his shoulder already regrets that idea. He starts along the walkway and eases himself over the edge, using the metal railing that trails toward the floor to brace himself against the side of the pit and slowly lower himself to the floor.
As soon as his feet touch the floor, the ground rumbles and the skeleton animates, shaking itself and rising on the forelimbs. The bones click and clack against each other as the dragon-like skull swings around to face him.
It has no eyes why does it need to look?
The head is too high off the ground to consider striking, and something urged him to go after that bit of the spine that is dragging on the floor. He starts in and there’s a stal blocking his way. Annoyed, he knocks it out of his path and pushes forward, trying to get around to the end of the skeletal beast before its head finds him. Stals rise out of the ground and he realizes this may be a bigger challenge than he anticipated. Quickly, he brings the sword down on the spine and the last two vertebrae fracture off. The skull cries out (
how
) and the front of the monster drops to the ground. Surely that’s a cue to go get it.
Or it would be if he did not have a half dozen stals around him, eager to grab at him and tear him apart. With a frustrated grunt, he throws himself into a spin, striking everything in a circle around him, reducing stals to piles of bone. The beast raises its head, giving it a shake as though stunned, so he turns back to give its spine another slash. Another vertebra breaks off and he’s already moved on, slamming a stal with the shield and grimacing as his shoulder takes the shock. He gets to the huge skull on the ground and blindly slashes at it until it begins to quiver and rise again. As he backs off it, he spots a red diamond, the size of his palm, between the eye sockets. Such a tiny target, but it must be where he should strike. He moves his shield forward, ready to block stals, and turns to go back toward the end of the beast - and comes face to face with a redead.
The split second he takes to realize this is a little too long. The thing shrieks and his mind grinds to a halt, paralyzed, as the creature raises its own sword against him. Time slows as the blow swings down, catching the shield and tearing the tunic across his abdomen. He hits the floor and things begin to move at their normal pace again. A rush of adrenaline powers him up off the floor, and he puts everything he has into a swing of the sword into the redead’s neck before it can shriek again. The head hits the floor and rolls as he dashes to take another slash at the end of the spine. He scores and dashes back toward the skull, focused on that tiny target, ignoring the burn across his belly and his shoulder screaming in protest. He scrambles on top of the skull and his left leg twinges. He grunts and takes the sword hilt in both hands, driving it home in an overhanded swing.
The sword quivers in his hands, but the skull stays down. The rest of the undead in the room collapse. He is panting and bleeding, and there’s still a tension in the air, low grade electricity, ready to crackle and flash. This is somehow not over yet. His exhaustion and pain slowly turn to fury. Why can’t this be straightforward?
Why?
“Hylia, have you tired of sending children in your stead? Are you sending an old man in your name now?”
The voice has a smokey texture to it he didn’t hear in his dreams. He swivels his head, looking for the source. He has done this before, and he knows what is next. He wrenches the sword out of the skull, and slides to the floor.
He is ready.
“Who do you think you are? Do you really think you are worthy of that tunic you wear?”
He snarls, “You can decide after we dance. Let’s go.”
There’s a throaty laugh in response. Link stands his ground, relaxing his hips and knees in preparation to fight. He rolls his right wrist, giving the Master Sword a showy flip. The blade is glowing and he can feel a low thrum through his arm. He hears the faint sound of glass breaking somewhere.
“Not today, old man. Not today.”
“But soon.”
And like that, the presence is gone, and it’s just him and a giant pile of dead bones. He thinks there’s a flash of light in the corner of his vision and when he turns to it, there’s a wooden box that he is sure was not there before. Inside that, the red, heart shaped crystal and an enormous topaz. He scoops them up, pausing as the red crystal restores him. Using the hookshot once more to get out of the pit, he then heads out into the desert night, back to Gerudo.
It’s cold. The sky is a deep, dark blue, filled with pinpoints of light. He pauses once to look up and name the constellations. The Wind Fish. Aquamentus. Creatures from stories. He catches himself wondering if she is looking up at the night sky and naming the same stars. He pushes on. None of this seems fair, suddenly.
He is back at the gates at dawn. The guards eye him, wondering how much trouble he is going to be. He is a toxic combination of tired and frustrated and angry. He feels like he might be trouble.
He barks at them, “Tell the Queen of Hyrule her hero is at the gates for her.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He must be quite a sight. His tunic is torn and bloodstained, even the chain mail gaps open. He is dirty and tired and it’s all been enough.
The Gerudo guard stands firm, locking onto him with a hard stare that he returns. When Zelda finally arrives, she stops short. “Is everything...okay?”
He turns his gaze to her and, without breaking it, takes the enormous topaz out of his pack, tossing it to her feet. “I believe that is yours.”He holds his pose, drawn up as tall as he can manage, shoulders squared, chest out, eyes hard. He feels feral. She takes a step back, but does not break his gaze.
“Thank you, Link. We will talk about this later, after you have had a chance to rest.” She takes another look at him, and gasps. “Are you injured? Is that your blood?”
He holds his stare another minute before abruptly turning, stalking off to the barracks in silence. Everyone steps out of his path. No one tries to talk to him. That is fine with him.
The quartermaster meets his eyes as he storms into the barracks. “What do you need, sir?”
“A hot bath and a good bed. And 24 hours of privacy.”
He nods. “I can set you up in a private room. Get the things you need and I’ll have a tub there shortly.”
It’s not much of a room, but there’s a bed and a desk, and enough space for a copper tub he can soak in. Once he is alone with the scalding hot water, he locks the door, strips down, and gets in. He scrubs the worst of the grime off, but the water is still hot once that is done.
He runs a finger over the new scar across his abdomen, a souvenir from that redead in the desert. He leans forward to run a hand along his back, wondering if there’s a place marking where it broke in the river lands, but he can’t seem to find anything. He leans back against the tub and drops his head back with a sigh, closing his eyes and just letting his mind float.
Zelda
.
He thinks about how she looked at him, as he was exhausted and furious from that goddess damned horror of stone in the Gerudo desert. How she’d looked him up and down, her mouth dropping open just a little, her eyes meeting his and then falling to that rent in his clothes.
And then dipping a little lower.
Oh, yes, he caught that.
He runs his fingers along the scar again, tracing it nearly hip to hip. Maybe she’d like to see it some day. Maybe he would just show it to her, so she could see what running her errands did to him. His fingers drift back along the raised scar, slowing at his midline. He pauses for a second, swallows, and wanders his hand to his cock.
Maybe she’d like to see something else of his.
He shoves that thought away quickly. She has been clear about what she wants from him, and it doesn’t include his dick.
But what if she did.
This course of thought has him half hard already, though that is rapidly changing as he slowly drags a thumb over his tip, with just a little pressure. He runs his fingers down his shaft to his balls and gives himself a gentle squeeze.
He drops his head back, closing his eyes with a sigh, and giving himself a lazy stroke. The water has cooled off enough he should get out anyway. He towels himself dry and double checks the lock.
A moment later, there’s a knock at the door he pointedly ignores. Impa calls his name and he ignores that too. Eventually she leaves.
He pulls a small bottle out of his pack before settling himself on the bed. There’s a purple gel inside. He pours a small amount onto his right hand. He found a shop in Castletown years ago that makes this custom mix of blue and red chu gel. He likes the slight warming sensation as he spreads it along his length. He huffs a sigh, arching his back slightly, pushing himself into his hand.
He runs his fingers along his cock, teasing himself, thinking about a more delicate hand. How might she touch him the first time? Would she be shy, blushing at the sight of him so aroused and hard? He bites his lip.
Or would she be bolder, reaching for him as though she already knew what he’d like?
He spreads his legs a little, dropping his hand to his testicles again. The sensitive skin shivers under his touch, making him grunt with pleasure. He rolls his balls between his fingers, enjoying the sensation before finding his shaft again. His cock jerks as he encircles the base with his thumb and forefinger.
He takes a slow, deliberate pull, ending just below his head, then leisurely circles his thumb over his tip, squirming as he does. There’s already a drop of his own fluids ready. He smears this under his thumb, and draws his fist down.
A groan escapes him. He takes his left hand and brings it to the back of his head, taking a handful of his hair and giving it a firm pull. He starts to speed his strokes.
Zelda is probably this warm, but she is probably softer. So much softer.
He tightens his hand, pushing into the warm lube, thinking about her thighs around his hips. His heart pounds and he quickens his pace, cock jerking in his grip. His abdominal muscles grow taut, orgasm rising.
The release is sudden, tearing her name from him, filling him with euphoria. He is distantly aware of each spasm along his cock, each pulse ending with a spatter of fluid on his belly. His head is beautifully empty, body and mind relaxed finally. He allows himself to float, one hand still tangled in his hair, the other wrapped around his cock.
He gets up long enough to clean himself again and settles back, naked, under the blanket. He does not dream this time. Thank the goddesses.
He emerges in time for breakfast the following day, taking his meal alone in a corner of the mess hall. He is halfway through when Impa joins him across the table.
“Are you spying on me? You seem to just show up.”
She smiles. “You’re pretty important. I keep tabs on you. I hope the bath was good.”
He narrows his eyes at her and then turns his attention back to his plate. “I suppose she wants to debrief today.”
She nods. “At your convenience.”
“I got hurt in there. Again.”
“We can talk about that.”
He glances back up at her. “I’m going to go for a walk. Alone. Tell your tabs to keep their distance.”
She nods. “Take care. The sun is already pretty bad.”
He grunts in response and makes himself scarce for the day. Zelda can wait for her debriefing.
He is up at first light the next day. There’s a knock on his door as he is buttoning his trousers. “It's open,” he calls, irritated. Of course it's Impa.
“Up to debriefing today, or should we go fight first? I got up early so it's still cool out.”
He digs his fingers into his left shoulder. It is still sore from that final ride with the hookshot, but it's not his sword arm at least. “Let’s go.” He grabs the sword in the blue and gold scabbard and heads out the door with Impa trailing behind.
"Cool" is relative in Gerudo. They find a shady spot but by the time they are done, he’s stripped off his shirt and they are both sweating. “You’re definitely stronger than when we first started,” she says, then gestures at the new scar on his abdomen. “What happened?”
He grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head “Redead.”
“A what?”
“It was something called a redead.”
“No, I’ve heard of them, but I thought…”
“They were stories? Nothing is stories.” He humphed. “Someday, we will just be stories, too.”
They both take a moment to wipe sand and dust off their respective weapons and sheath them. Link turns to Impa.
“Don’t you wonder how much control you have here? Does exactly what we do really matter at all here? Like, does it have to be me on this sword?”
Impa looks cautious. “The sword chose you, Link. You’re the only one who can wield it, and it's the only thing that kills Ganon, or whatever form it’s taking.”
“But it doesn’t kill him. It just puts him away for a while until everyone forgets and then some other unlucky fools go through the cycle again. What’s the point?” He looks out across the sand for a minute. “What if I just said no, right now?”
Impa’s voice is quiet, deadly. “If you say no, you doom everyone you know and everything you love. It's all gone. Your brother, your sister-in-law, your nephew, your parents, whoever else might have your heart. Gone and done. Is that ok with you? That’s not even where it ends, but you can start there.”
He closes his eyes against her words. It’s painful to even consider the losses she suggests. It wasn’t ok. He sighed. It really wasn’t. “Okay,” he says softly, dropping his shoulders. “Okay.”
He meets with Zelda later, back in the office in the barracks. There is already tension as he enters the room. The air itself is taut and ready to snap. He’s not going to make things better with what he has planned to say.
“Your majesty, if I may?”
Zelda raises her eyebrows at the title.
He draws a deep breath. “I would like to put some professionalism back into our relationship. We have become too… familiar.”
Oh, he hates hearing it out loud.
He stops to compose himself. “I will be addressing you by your title going forward. If we are to have a working relationship, then that is how I would prefer to treat it.”
There’s a quick look of shock across her face. It’s gone in an instant, but he sees it. She takes a little longer to speak than he expects. “I.. I do not know how to feel about this request, Link. This seems sudden. Are you okay?”
“I’d prefer that we do not discuss our feelings.” He has spent the last day and a half practicing this, keeping his voice neutral and his face unreadable. His heart sinks delivering that line to her. He clenches his jaw against his words.
“If this is what you want.” Her eyes seem soft, though her voice has the careful coolness to it from when they first met.
It’s not, it’s not, but-
“It is.”
She folds her hands and draws herself back. “Then I’d like your report on the desert.”
He is clinical and emotionally neutral as he details what he found and did in the desert ruins. He doesn’t mention the dream he had.
He manages to get back into his room before his shoulder slump and his eyes water. He drops his face to his hands, letting the emotion wash over him. He doesn’t have a name for what he feels. He is empty and bottomless. Why does this hurt so much?
What have I
done
?
Later, he sits at the desk, trying to compose a letter to his brother and not getting past the greeting, feeling wrung out, when the orders come down. They leave Gerudo in the morning to head back to the castle to plan the next move. It’s going to be a long ride. He crumples up his letter and tries to decide how he might want to spend what is likely his last night in Gerudo, maybe forever.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zelda turns the huge topaz over in her hands, seeing it and not seeing it at all. She's hiding in her makeshift office from the midday Gerudo sun, trying to absorb everything that has happened in the past day. Link had staggered out of the desert that morning and thrown it at her feet. He’d been gone maybe a day, but he looked like he’d been gone so much longer. His tunic was torn and stained with blood and perspiration, his hair plastered against his head.He’d held himself like a completely different person. He stood tall, shoulders squared, eyes flinty and hard. For the first time, there had been a flicker of what the Master Sword must have seen in him.She places the topaz on her makeshift desk, and steeples her fingers in front of her face.The way he’d looked at her. She’d taken a step back from him.He’d left without a word. He’d just turned and stormed off, dirty and sweaty, and she’d wondered what he smelled like up close. She was left alone with a vision of him pinned to her mattress, looking up at her like that, his hair and his body slick to the touch…She shakes her head violently, heart hammering and her face hot. She reaches for the glass of water on the desk, nearly knocking it over, and gulps it, trying to cool herself down. Goddesses , she’d just had a discussion with him about not indulging his obvious emotions before he’d gone off into the desert. And here she is thinking about licking his sternum.Her eyes catch the topaz again. Yes. The topaz. She pulls it close and studies it, wondering where it fits in with the other stones he had brought back from the places she’s sent him. One side is perfectly flat. Has it sat in a bezel at one point? How old is the stone and its siblings? Are both his hands callused? Or just the one he swings his sword with?
His sword.
She drops the stone with a sound of self disgust. A rap at the door distracts her. Fortunately.“Your Majesty?”“Come in, Impa.”Impa lets herself in, and pulls a chair up in front of her desk. “He’s not answering his door right now. I guess he ordered a bath…”A bath. He might be naked right now. Right now. She digs a thumbnail into her palm, bringing her back to Impa’s report.“He probably needs some time to calm down. I have no idea what might have happened out there but he seems pretty angry. I’ll check in in the morning.” Impa cocks her head and concern crosses her face. “Are you okay?”Zelda’s heart stutters. Is she that obvious?“Your face is red,” Impa explains. “Hot flash?”“Yes.” Zelda has not had a hot flash in years. “Hot flash.”Impa leans forward, pours a glass of water and offers it to her. Zelda gratefully accepts it and drinks.“I just need to let it run its course.” She fans herself.Impa nods, standing up and moving to the door. “I’ll check in on him in the morning and leave you to this stone.”“Impa, before you go,” Zelda started slowly, choosing her words carefully. “Link came to me before he went out to the desert. He wanted to talk about um, our…relationship.”Impa is attentive but beyond that, her face does not betray her thoughts.“I am sure that you’ve noticed he is. He is. Ah.”“I’d say he has a crush, but I’m not sure that’s the correct magnitude.”Zelda nods. “That obvious?”“I spend a lot of time around both of you.” Impa retakes her seat, attentive and sympathetic. “Do you want my opinion, or just an ear right now?”The question gives Zelda pause. Of course Impa has an opinion. “I am not sure.”Her heart is thumping wildly; she is honestly surprised Impa does not seem to see it.“Maybe let’s start with just an ear, then.”Zelda quietly releases her breath and composes herself. “As we’ve discussed before, this situation has been difficult to navigate. The divine nature of things suggest we should be partners of some sort. He seems to desire something more…intimate? In nature. And he is. He.”Impa says nothing.She takes her hands off her desk so she can wring them privately in her lap. “There has to be more than just a sword for hire. He was chosen. So was I. But a romantic pairing... With him. I just. I don’t… but there has to be more.”That’s the rub of it. Hylia and her chosen made flesh with all the messiness that comes with being human. The relationship is a level or more deeper than employer and hired hand. Perhaps it’s not always romantic. Maybe it’s rarely romantic, but these two souls seek each other over lifetimes and eons. He'd asked her out to see the stars, right before they entered the desert. She thought he was just trying to be friendly, still. When he tentatively placed his hand over hers, though, she tangled her fingers in his, holding her breath as her heart skipped. She turned to him then, to find him looking away, suddenly shy. The moon silvered his hair and played gently with the contours of his face. It wasn’t fair, she thought, that the world would insist she be endlessly linked to someone else and then make him so pretty.He finally turned to look at her, and leaned in to her, stopping tantalizingly close. She closed some of the distance herself, but then brought her lips to his ear to whisper to him instead. She thought about kissing him that night. By the Three, had she thought about it. She went to bed wondering how that tongue of his would feel against hers and if he would be a little rough compared to what she knew. But he gave her the option, and she decided to not take it.He wasn’t ready for her. Not really. Below his surface he was still a wreck. A lovely, glorious wreck that would be enjoyable and fascinating to explore, but ultimately it would end with everyone getting hurt, and she could not afford that luxury. Not with so much at stake. She pulled herself back. She had been alone for a long time now. Longer would not matter.He wasn’t ready. He might never be. Suddenly she realizes Impa had asked her a question.“What?”Impa wears a faint smile. “There can be more in so many ways. Can you afford the distraction of a love affair?” She leans forward a bit. “Or the collapse of one?”It appears Zelda is going to get Impa’s opinion anyway. “He isn’t like my former guard captain.”“No,” agrees Impa. “But he seems…fickle? About who he wants to spend time with.” Maybe he would be different with me . Zelda does not give this thought voice. Even in her mind, she knows how it sounds.“Remember the conversation we had with the reference librarian about him.”“Yes, I remember.” Zelda is a little sharper than she intended. “But I have to work closely with him.”She makes the argument more for herself, she thinks. Saying the words out loud will convince her. The back of her mind wonders what he tastes like and how he kisses. She imagines running her tongue along his jaw, down his neck, maybe lower. It’s been a while since the low heat of arousal has rumbled through her, but it’s definitely rumbling now.This time she digs a nail into the side of her thigh. It’s not enough. “Thank you, Impa, I’ll take your words under consideration.”Once she is alone again, Zelda briefly rests her face in her hands. There had to be an explanation. Maybe Impa was on the right track with the hot flash suggestion. Menopause had come early for Zelda, but every once in a while some new symptom still rears its head. Yes. Biology. That has to be it. It’s good to have a reason for her scandalous thoughts. She should be able to push through.Though.She wonders if she should just go knock on his door. He'd ignored Impa, but Zelda thinks he’d open the door for her. Then she could close the door behind her and they could talk. She could check in herself. After he was done bathing, of course. Or maybe they could not talk and one thing could lead to another until she was sitting on his face and he had his hands on her ass, his lips and maybe his teeth on the inside of her thigh, slowly, slowly making his way up. GODDESSES .She bets he’s good with his tongue.She pushes herself up out of her chair, taking the topaz and stalking off to her bed chamber. She needs a nap.Or.She could not nap and think about what his weight would be like on top of her, or the sounds he might make against her skin and imagine the hand between her legs was callused from sword work. Would he know if she whispered his name?She’s going to bed, anyway. She quickens her pace, decision made.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He made bad choices for his last night in Gerudo.
He met Tas for dinner. That turned into after dinner drinks. And farewell drinks. And just drinks.
He is barely on the bay pinto mare the next morning, head pounding and his stomach threatening to empty itself with every step the horse takes. Twenty years ago, they would have just stayed up all night. He still ended up in bed far too late for this and he is hung over. Perfect for a day's ride in the desert on horseback.
Perfect
.
The heat keeps the party to a walk, and conversation at a minimum. The mare has a naturally big stride, and he feels bad about keeping a firm hand on her mouth to keep her trailing behind slightly. They aren’t a big group and he isn’t ready to be part of it. He nearly manages to survive the day without speaking to anyone.
Impa catches him after dinner. Camp has been set for the night, and everyone else turns in early. He decides to find a spot to sit and drink water and gaze at the night sky one more time. There’s still a low thud in his skull, his stomach a little sour. When she settles down next to him, he closes his eyes and gathers himself.
“Hey, I thought I’d check on you. You’ve been quiet. Are you okay?”
He turns to face her and wonders how honest he is going to be with her tonight. “Not really.”
“Is it uh- just the hangover, or...?”
“Are there things I do that you
don’t
know about?”
“It’s easy to see you don’t feel well today. Never mind the injury. Injuries. I know you’ve struggled with other things as well. I hope you know we can talk, still.”
“I appreciate that, Impa, but I am really not in the mood right now.”
She nods and a moment later, is gone. He finds one more constellation - the Sand Ship - and turns in himself.
He feels better, physically, the next day. Impa rides up to him early, the little dun horse dancing beneath her.
“Wanna race? You should see this horse go.”
It’s not really responsible to gallop this early in the trip, when there’s a long way to go. The mare is built more for covering distance comfortably than for speed. But the road is wide and flat here and he just says
yes
while digging his heels into the mare’s flanks, startling her to a gallop. He pulls away quickly; despite the mare’s long, slow strides. He stands in his stirrups and leans over her neck, enjoying the wind in his face, alone with the horse until Impa and her little dun come flying up on them and pass them. His mare may as well have been standing still. He brings her back to a walk. Impa jogs a wide circle around them.
“That’s cheating, Link.”
“Challenging me while you are riding
that
is cheating. I simply leveled the race course, and you still won.”
“How are you today?” She brings her horse next to him.
He closes his fingers on the reins and the mare marches to a halt. They are far ahead of the rest of the party, and Zelda is riding with a pair of guards. “Mostly okay.” He is somewhat guarded.
“What happened in the desert? I heard your report but I also heard about how you came back. Did something more happen?”
He turns to meet her gaze. “How much of this goes back to Her Majesty, advisor?”
“Fair enough. I keep her confidences, Link, and I will keep yours.” She extends a hand to shake. He looks down at her hand and back to her face before slowly offering his hand back. “We should probably keep moving, slowly, while we chat.” She gives the dun a nudge and the horse picks up an animated walk that Link’s mare follows. “What’s up?”
“I’m getting weary of being Hylia’s dog. Go here, fetch that. I feel like I have to do everything alone, I have no one I’m allowed to relate to.”
“We’re talking.”
“You haven’t been saddled by fate and legend.” He feels anger rising again. His words become terse. “You think you understand, but you don’t. Look.” He takes his right hand off the reins to show her the faint Triforce on the back. “Unless you’ve got some sort of, I don’t know, divine mark on you somewhere, you really don’t understand this. There’s two other people who understand this and I’m supposed to kill one of them. By the way, I was considering retirement when this happened.”
The mare flicks an ear back, and he feels her shift under him, sensing his rising emotion. He pats her right shoulder. “These things are getting harder to negotiate and I already got killed once.”
Impa remains silent until he’s done. Then softly, tentatively, “It seems that you pushed a third of that triangle away in Gerudo.”
He twists around in his saddle. “Excuse me now?”
She doesn’t look away. “Link. You need to work with her. Pushing her away is irresponsible.” She chooses her words and tones carefully. “If you have... personal... feelings, we can talk about them and it will be between us.”
He snatches the horse’s mouth and stretches a hand to the cantle of the saddle, allowing him to twist a bit more to face her as much as he can. “And did she discuss her personal feelings with you already?”
“Link, I can't…”
“Oh, we’re done.” He kicks the mare into a canter and circles her back to catch the back of their party, lagging behind Zelda and the guards a bit. Zelda tries to make eye contact, but he stonily looks ahead, silently fuming.
They’ve been talking about him.
What has Zelda told her?
When they break for the day, he steals off to dance with his blade. He gets lost in the meditation of movement. Stories and legends never deal with the day to day that must go on in between heroics. They don’t mention dealing with other people beyond broad strokes. He wonders what will be remembered when his story gets retold.
He keeps to himself the next day, riding in silence. Sometimes he lags behind. Sometimes he urges the mare forward, riding a big loop around the party. No one approaches him and he is fine with that.
The party is setting camp for the night, Gerudo a few days behind them, central Hyrule still a few days ahead. He turns his head to catch a glimpse of the sword he wears on his back. With an unsettled sigh, he reaches for the blue hilt with its flipped cross guard and draws the blade. Might as well work some frustration out at least. Sword in hand, he strides directly toward Impa.
“Let’s go.”
Cocking her head, she turns to face him, eyebrows slightly raised. She draws her kodachi.
“You’re a man of few words lately.”
He grunts at her and turns on his heel, pacing out to a nearby clearing. He hears her footsteps behind him. He doesn’t wait for her.
When he gets to the spot, he turns, holding the sword in his right hand and giving it a lazy spin. That feels good, so he does it again, faster. On the upswing, he flips the blade into a circle in the opposite direction in front of him. He lets himself flow, the sword an extension of himself, flourishing the weapon in faster spins and circles.
He comes to rest, sword at an angle again, ready for work. Impa is standing silently, a hand on her hip, the other holding her own blade.
“You did not learn that in the Hyrulean army.”
“No. Ready?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead telegraphing a strike toward her shoulder.
She takes a step back, avoiding the blow, and raises her kodachi, a fire in her eyes. With her teeth bared, she lunges forward, her sword clattering against his.
“That was bullshit,” she snarls over their crossed steel.
He pushes her back. “All of this is bullshit.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Fine.” He drops into a wide-legged stance, right foot a little forward, weight on his left. He relaxes his grip on the hilt of his weapon and holds it across his body, ready to clash once more. “Are you ready, Royal Advisor?”
Impa drops into a small squat, kodachi raised horizontally in front of her chest. “Are we sparring or talking?”
He explodes forward, intending on knocking her down, but she is up on the balls of her feet and sidesteps him, smacking his rear with the flat of her short sword. He spins back to face her, his left leg twinging a warning against doing that again. Her brow is lowered, and her knuckles are white against the hilt of her weapon.
They come together in a crash of metal. Impa shoves him aside but he blocks her counter with a grunt.
“Why are you so pissed off tonight?”
Why indeed. “How about just drilling basic attack and defense forms?”
“It’s your call. Come and get me.”
He starts slow, taking a step forward with each swing. Impa blocks him and takes a step back with each one. Left shoulder, right shoulder, left thigh, right thigh.
They work through the first round and swap roles, Impa pressing him back, their breathing and steel the only sound.
“Faster this time,” he says, setting up to start again.
Impa nods, blocks him at her left shoulder and takes a step back. Link presses, letting himself flow, taking the swings without thinking. It’s almost a dance between them.
He automatically switches from attack to defense as he brings his final strike - an overhead swing - down and Impa blocks it, with a grunt. He presses against her sword, sliding his blade down the length of hers, the scrape of steel ringing in his ears.
“Why are you so angry?” she asks again as she aims a strike at his left shoulder.
“I’m tired of doing this, being this.” He surprises himself with the answer, blurting it out as his body runs on muscle memory. “I’m sick of being alone.”
He blocks her off his right shoulder.
“You’re not alone.” She dips low, her kodachi seeking his left thigh.
He stops her and steps back. “I am.”
“You push people away.” She presses his right thigh and when he deflects her, swings at waist.
He stops her again. “I do not.”
“You do.” She aims for the other side of his waist. “You’re trying to push me away now.”
He dances back, parrying her strike. He catches the final two moves in the sequence, an upswing followed by the overhead swing, and stops.
“What do you mean?” He does not take a ready stance to move through the attack sequence again. He lets the point of the Master Sword drop.
“You’re trying to fight, really fight, me. There’s no need.” Impa relaxes her pose, mirroring him. “I don’t want to fight you like that.”
He pauses at her words. He still wants to swing his sword, still wants to break something with it, use it to damage, to hurt. He needs a physical thing to funnel all the rawness and outrage that eats him.
Maybe that target should not be Impa.
Maybe it should not be Zelda either. He stuffs that idea back down. He will try it on later.
Maybe.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Let’s start over.”
“Okay. Maybe Gerudo forms though? I think those are more fun.”
“Gerudo forms. When you’re ready.”
They dance with each other, silent except for the collision of blades and grunts of exertion. The sky has moved to near dark when they stop.
Link drops the sword that seals the darkness to the ground and folds in half, palms on his thighs, panting. Impa draws up, relaxing, letting her sword arm drop, grip loose, her chest heaving out of time with his.
“I hope you feel better after that.” Her voice is a little flat, a little tired. “I’m happy just to talk to you.” She studies her reflection in her blade for a moment before straightening and sheathing it. “I never told her about what happened in the Zora’s Domain. I won’t tell her what we talk about, either.”
He maintains eye contact with the ground, still trying to catch his breath, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from lashing out at her.
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
He straightens back up, rolling his shoulders and scooping his sacred sword off the ground. He brushes dirt from the blade, catching his reflection briefly. “Maybe we can do this again in the morning before camp breaks.”
Impa snorts.
He keeps his own company the rest of the trip. He avoids conversations so he does not say something awkward. Impa and Zelda seem to talk quite a bit. Impa checks in with him every morning, but a curt
I’m ok
seemed to dissuade her. Sometimes he sought her out in the evening to spar, but he made it clear he was not open to conversation afterwards.
He spends his time thinking. He does not want this duty. He cannot abandon it. He cannot do it alone, and what he is doing now will not work. There is a way through this puzzle but he needs a guide.
He ponders his options.
The gates of Hyrule Castle are in view when he interrupts Impa and Zelda laughing about something. “Impa, if I may, I’d like a word in private.”
“Of course, Link. Excuse me, your highness.”
Zelda nods her off, and Link and Impa jog on ahead.
“What is it, Link?” She is upbeat, almost cheerful.
“I need your help.” He stops. Impa sits quietly, giving him the space he needs. “I am so angry and frustrated. I feel stuck. I need to move forward, I want to move forward. I don’t really want what is before me, but if I don’t get to choose my fate, I want to get on with it.”
The white-haired woman smiles. “Ok. Let’s meet in the morning. Rest tonight, we will have work to do.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The next day, Link and Impa slowly wander the castle gardens. The roses are in bloom and bees lazily tumble between flowers.
I want to set ground rules,
she said before they entered the garden.
I will not judge you for anything you tell me in here. I will not tell Zelda anything we talk about. What you say here stays here.
They make a circle around a koi pond in the center of the garden before he stops and sits down on a marble bench. She sits next to him and simply waits. He closes his eyes and swallows, gathering thoughts, judging how much he should say.
“I don’t know how to say any of this.” It’s a start, at least.
Impa says nothing, and continues looking straight ahead, but her hand finds his wrist.
“I like being with another person. I thought I really loved one or two, but what I feel right now is different. I wonder now if I ever did...”
He goes quiet, considering his words.
“It is so much more. Every time I see her. I think about her without meaning to. I dream about her. I have never felt anything like this. Much more intense. I think it’s as much a part of this cycle as this.” He holds up his right hand, the Triforce faint, but there.
He sighs. “I was hurt. I thought it would help, so I pushed her back, but it was a bad idea. I am sure she feels what I do... Pretty sure. I wish I had not done so but I do not know how to resolve this.”
“'I’m sorry' doesn’t seem to be the right thing to say, Link. It’s good to love but you both need to be in the same boat.”
“I think she is,” he whispers, thinking about her hand in his hair and how she took his hand under the stars.
Is this a bad idea?
“Maybe, but you’re on different decks. She has turned you away?”
He gives a small nod, unable to give that answer voice.
“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.”
They sit in silence for a long time.
“Men often think that the only way to love is romantically,” Impa suddenly says. “There are so many other ways to love people. She said no to one, you need to respect that. You can still find a way to work without being emotionless.”
“If she feels the way I do, why should we not act on this, though? We were both brought here by outside forces. Neither of us chose this. What if. What if...” It’s hard putting his thoughts into the right words, and he rushes. “It’s just. The base of the triangle holds it together. Those pieces are together.”
“There are other ways to be together and you need to consider those. Friendship can be very deep and intimate, and I do not think most men ever see that. You think it’s a poor consolation prize when it can be even better than the thing you think you want so badly. Try being her friend. You both need a friend. You’re both in a unique position to understand each other. Try it.”
He stares ahead, blank.
“I have an intimate friendship with Zelda. That word isn’t exclusive to being physical. It means other things.”
“I cannot just stop how I feel.”
“No. But you don’t need to act on how you feel. Maybe she does feel the same but she has told you no, for whatever her reasons are. Find a way.”
Impa rubs her forehead, smearing her eye of truth.
“I’m sorry, I really am, Link, I know it hurts. Think on this, please.”
She gets up and leaves. He stays on the marble bench and watches the koi swim until the light grows low in the sky.
He spends a week thinking on it. He dances with the Master Sword before dawn most days, though once he decides to take to the yard at midday, because he knows he’ll draw a crowd. He works in silence that time, aside from whatever grunts get worked out in a swing. When he is done that day, he waves to his spectators and walks out of the yard via the guards' chambers, ignoring calls of his name. Maybe he did it for vanity’s sake, but it feels good anyway.
In the afternoons he rides. Some of the war horses are trained in the ancient airs above ground, which are terrifying in battle, but are now mostly for show. He hopes that eventually the riding master will let him sit on one of them and try the maneuvers, but for now, it seems, he should work on pirouettes and mastering the piaffe. It's subtle work and engages his mind more than he expected.
One of the perks of being the Hero of Hyrule is not only a private room, but one with a balcony. He likes to take coffee and breakfast there after working with the sword and watch the early morning light play out on the grounds. It is there, a week or so after walking the gardens with Impa, that he decides it is time to step forward.
He manages to squeeze in a meeting with her in the early afternoon, in her office. She watches him a little carefully as he takes a seat and greets her formally.
“Your Majesty.”
“Sir Link.”
There’s a little sting at the title.
“I am here to apologize. I was protecting myself, or trying to. I think I hurt you instead, and maybe our mission. I was selfish. I am sorry.”
He takes a deep breath before plunging forward.
“I also would like to try and be your friend. I would like to go back to just Link for you, if I may.”
If he had to be careful where he stepped in the desert ruins, he is doubly so here. It seems so treacherous. She is so quiet. He resists filling the void and waits, meeting her gaze with what he hopes is an earnest expression.
“I think we can be friends,” she says finally. “I accept your apology, Link, and I hope that I can go back to being Zelda for you.”
You will always be my Zelda.
He smiles. This is better. He just says yes.
“If we are to try and get things back to whatever normal is,” she smiles as she speaks, “then you can join Impa and I over dinner as we try to figure out where to find the last portal stone.”
Where to– What?
“I- ah, I thought that was at the Isle of Illusion?”
“Yes. No one has ever heard of that, or has any idea where it might be. We’ve been researching it since you gave us the name.”
What he learns over dinner is that there is a lot of Hyrule he’d never heard of before, never mind seen. He'd thought of himself as well-traveled, too. They pour over place names and significant locations across the huge map that had been hung on the wall in the Queen’s dining room. Nothing seems to match up well. Link hopes he was not in for a tour of the entire continent looking for this last place. He mostly sits with a mug of coffee and tries to pay attention. He is ready when Impa asks for his input, this time.
“I never had a head for all of this but, I don’t know - if there isn’t a place on a map, maybe look at stories?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve encountered things I only thought existed on stained glass in the Temple of Time. Maybe this place is like a Temple Guardian or a redead. I don’t know, this is the sort of thing I’d ask my brother; he might know. Surely there must be some expert here?”
“That’s an interesting thought.” Impa sits back in her chair, and rests her chin on her hand, frowning a bit. “Maybe it’s an old name. Or maybe it doesn’t always exist. I’m going to work on this overnight. We’ll meet at mid-morning tomorrow?”
It takes another week before a lead is found. Somewhere deep in the library, someone found a reference to some past hero who saved Hyrule and then went off and got himself shipwrecked somewhere that may have just been a dream. Or not. The name of the place is Koholint Island.
Which still doesn’t exist.
Link knows of the Windfish as a constellation. It has just been a word. It is somehow related to the story of Koholint Island, but the details have long been lost. If the story is true, it seemed the Master Sword hadn’t figured into it.
The next day, the castle cartographer reports that there is a Koholint Rock, off a small island near Lurelin. It is barely a local landmark. Link is sure he had not heard of it during his time there. It seems like such thin evidence... but he'd dreamed about the desert, hadn’t he?
That’s how, a few days later, he finds himself back on the porch of the Lurelin barracks, sharing a stout with Mikal and watching the sun set.
“Traveling with the Queen. You have moved up in the world, Link.”
“I’ve moved somewhere, for sure.”
“Still feeling doubts about your sword?”
“Sometimes.”
“Celia had a little boy.”
“That’s nice. I’m happy for her.” He feels nothing, his voice flat. “Mikal, you’ve been here a long time. Have you ever heard of a place called Koholint Rock?”
“It’s hardly a place. It barely sticks out of the water in high tide.”
“But it is a named place?”
“Literally a rock sticking out of the water. It’s a big rock. But it’s a bare rock. Look.” Mikal points to a dark spot on the horizon. “Do you see that little island that is pretty much just a peak out there? That’s called Eventide and Koholint Rock sits off the side of it. It’s pretty much a wave breaker for the island. Why?”
“I’m going there tomorrow.”
“There’s nothing on that island except a bunch of moblins and maybe a Hinox, if the locals' stories are true.”
“I’m beginning to think all stories are true. Maybe I need to kill a Hinox.” He hopes not.
“Maybe you do.”
They watch the waves roll and the sea turn red.
Link had never been keen on boating, despite his time in a fishing village. He certainly isn’t going alone, at least not across the water. Impa offers to join him for the trip and by mid-morning they are sailing toward Eventide, Impa steering and directing Link on what rope to hold to capture the breeze in the right way. He wonders where she learned to sail. She’d just shrugged when asked.
At least she isn’t asking how he was on this trip.
Eventide turns out to be pretty deserted except for a few goats. They find Koholint Rock easily and neither are impressed. It is just a big bare rock on the eastern edge of the island, and as Mika’s suggested, barely above water at high tide. It has a very small tidal pool on the top with exactly three snails in it. Impa takes off her boots, and sits on the edge of the pool, feet in the water, arms crossed over her knees.
“Do you see anything that suggests this is the right place?”
He peers into the clear water around the great rock, looking for anything that might be a clue. Nothing but coral and fish. He shakes his head and looks out on the water at the horizon. He loses himself in the sound of water lapping up to the rock, and gulls calling overhead. Impa eventually breaks the silence.
“How are you doing?”
He closes his eyes and stifles a sigh. At least she'd waited until they landed.
“I’m ok.”
“How is it with Zelda?”
How is it with Zelda, indeed. He guesses it is ok. He had been making sure to not spend too much time alone with her, because it is difficult to do so. He still catches himself watching her. He still wonders what it would be like to hold her, but he tries to not let that show.
Maybe it isn’t ok.
“Fine, I think we’re being friends.” He shrugs.
Impa turns to look at him, but doesn’t press.
They camp on the beach and spend another day exploring, but there’s really not that much, and it seems to be a dead end. And then Impa has a notion.
“What if you need to be here alone? The other Link washed up alone, right?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know that story.”
“I’m going to go back to Lurelin. I’ll come back for you tomorrow.”
He doesn’t like the idea. At all. But there’s no talking the Sheikah woman out of it and within the hour he is watching her sail off alone. He decides to take a nap on the beach and make the most of a pretty day.
He wakes up as the sun is just starting to set. The day has gone from calm and sunny to promising a storm. He is struck by an urge to go stand on the rock as the winds rise and the air pressure drops. He looks out at the choppy water. It isn’t a very long swim, sure, but what is the current doing under the whitecaps? Dark clouds slowly roll in, ominous and heavy.
He walks to the water’s edge to estimate how long it might take to get to the flat rock with its tidal pool. He steps forward, wading out until he has to kick off to swim, marveling that the chainmail didn’t somehow drag him to the bottom. He drags himself up onto Koholint Rock as the storm arrives, kicking up waves and making the hair on his arms stand up. A flash of lightning splits the sky and thunder rolls behind it. He is small and lost in the display.
What am I doing?
The rock shifts beneath his feet. The water on the seaward side roils and a stone structure slowly rises from the depths. It’s glossy blue green stone that seems to shine faintly, reminding him of the palace in the Zora Domain. It is sculpted to look like an enormous fish with its open mouth the entryway.
Here it is, then.
He turns to look back at Eventide, and further off to the faint lights of Lurelin, hoping he will see them again before he walks into the fish’s mouth.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The entryway smells like salt, and it’s damp. Instead of steps leading down, there’s a ramp with a gentle slope. The flooring has a texture to it; he won’t slip on the way down. Torches flicker in brass sconces; as he walks down the ramp, fog swirls around his ankles and he thinks he hears a faint melody. He doesn’t recognize the song, but it’s pretty. Zelda might like it. He stops, wondering if this thought oversteps his new boundaries, and decides that friends would make these sorts of notes.The dungeon at Koholint Rock seems different from the others he has wandered. It's quiet, nearly peaceful most of the time. It's easier on him physically. There’s nothing to slip or slide on. He doesn’t need to try and use the hookshot for anything. There is nothing to fight. He nearly trips over the chest with the key in it. The key isn’t very remarkable. It’s just a black iron key. The others have been so obviously special; he wonders why this one is so plain.He follows the melody as it slowly grows louder the deeper he gets into the dungeon. The torches light mosaics on the walls, and they seem to be scenes from his life. Here he is on his first pony, his father teaching him to ride. Playing kissing games with the village girls behind the barn. Unsuccessfully hauling on the hilt of a sword with an oddly flipped cross guard. Being thrown from a horse that had been clubbed by a moblin. Meeting the queen with that odd sword on his back. There’s a six-legged spider with one giant eye menacing him. When he finds the image of the blue long-necked sea turtle with the studded shell, he stops and touches the creature on the mosaic. The sound of the glass is faint, but it’s there.
I killed you last.
He continues on. The last mosaic he finds is of him standing on Koholint Rock, facing a structure sculpted to look like a giant, open-mouthed fish. After that, the walls are simply tiled in dark blue, his future apparently still unwritten. Maybe his fate isn’t set in stone then. He smiles at his own small joke. He had stopped to rest before opening that final door before, but when he finds the heart of Koholint Rock, he doesn’t feel the need. He feels he should just open it and plunge forward. The door is a plain wooden door, with a very ordinary-looking iron lock. There is no decoration on the door to suggest what might be behind it. Sliding the key into the lock and giving it a turn, he feels tumblers move and the door swings open. He expects the seemingly empty room, but not the sudden foreboding. Something is not right, and he hesitates before crossing the threshold. Had he thought the room was empty? There’s a pedestal in the center, so very similar to the one he drew the Master Sword from, a lifetime ago in the Temple of Time. Had it been there and he somehow missed it?He steps inside the chamber and hears the bars close behind him. His heart rate speeds up and he slowly wraps his fingers around the handle of the sword and draws it while scanning the room. He takes care with each step forward, noting subtle changes to the room as he goes. There’s a beam of soft golden light shining on the pedestal in the center. He thinks he hears a harp picking out the melody he has been hearing the entire time he’s been crawling these passages. The voice comes from behind him, soft, velvety. “Welcome, Chosen of Farore.”He spins to face the bearer, and... it’s himself. Sort of. He recognizes the facial features, as he has seen them stare back at him in mirrors, but his hair is black, his eyes red. He wears a version of his tunic and hat, but it’s black and his trousers are a pure white tucked into black boots. He even has a sword with the oddly flipped cross guard but in black, with a thin red stripe criss crossing the hilt.“I’ve been waiting for you.”“Are you Ganondorf?”The other man laughs. It’s not the same laugh he heard in the desert. “No, brave one. I’m not.” He takes a step closer. Link takes a step back. The sword has seemed to awaken in these final battles before; why is it so quiet now?
Are you there?
Nothing. It seems to be just a sword. A sword with an odd cross guard, but just a sword.Nothing special.“Why don’t we take a seat? We have things to discuss. You can put that blade away. Unless you want to...put it away.” The man in black gestures to the pedestal in the center of the room.Link draws himself up and carefully sheaths the sword. Whatever is going on here seems dangerous. He is supposed to be courage, not wisdom. “Very well, then.” He gestures to a table set with two chairs that Link is absolutely positive was not there previously. “Let us sit and talk, brave one. We have so much to discuss.”“Who are you?”The man in black smiles. “I am a reflection of you, Link. Let’s talk about this obligation before you. I know you want to talk about that.“We can discuss Zelda, too. Don’t you want to know what it would be like to have her against you? To feel her heart beat with yours? How her breast might feel in your hand, or your tongue in her mouth? Or… somewhere else?” The man in black gives him a lecherous grin.Link shuts his eyes and draws a deep breath, hiding the shock he feels at those things being expressed out loud. He has thought about those things, but he told no one; not even Impa has an inkling.“I thought so.” He’s smiling. “It’s outrageous that you’ve been put into this savior role and you don’t even get a prize out of it, isn’t it? Let’s run it down. Acid burn on your left arm, broken back, nearly had your belly opened up by a redead. Let’s not forget you actually died. You were dead. And you get a kiss on the cheek for it.“It’s not fair, is it?”Part of him does not want to listen, but part of him is also very interested in where this is going. It is not fair. He opens his eyes and angles his head slightly. “I can see you agree with me. You can choose to put that sword down. Just because you picked it up doesn’t mean you need to keep carrying it. If you put it back in that pedestal, it’s like none of this will have happened. It will all be just a bad dream.”Link looks over at the pedestal. It looks nearly magical, bathed in golden light, dust swirling lazily in the beam. How easy would it be to put it back? Pulling it out hadn’t been easy. He takes a step toward the pedestal. He could put it back. He could. He could just be done with all of this.
If you say no, you doom everyone you know and everything you love. It's all gone.
“Don’t listen to Impa. Besides; if you’re dead with everyone else, does it matter? You didn’t choose this, Link.”He swings his head back toward the man in black, then to the pedestal. He takes another step toward the pedestal. He reaches his right hand overhead, wrapping his fingers around the sword’s hilt and drawing it from the blue and gold scabbard. He takes another step and looks back toward the man in black. The man says nothing. Link tries to read his expression. The man smiles at him.Link suddenly whirls, blade overhead, both hands on the hilt, and crosses the space where the man sits in three long steps. He brings the sword down into his chest, grunting as he pushes through the chainmail, not stopping until the tip is through his back. He meets the man’s eyes.“No,” he whispers. “I didn’t choose. I was Chosen.”The man, the table and the pedestal vanish in a cloud of purple-black smoke. When it clears, the box he is expecting is in their place. He claims his heart and a garnet set in gold. Suddenly very tired, he sits on the floor; he leans back against a wall and closes his eyes, just for a minute. He wakes up on the beach, Master Sword still in hand, to a gull squawking. He drags himself up, startling the bird into taking off. Every joint he has, even the ones in his spine, it seems, protests as he slowly gets to his feet. He flips the blade skyward, bringing the embossed Triforce to his lips. You chose me. You chose me for a reason .
Yes, master.
He raises the blade in one hand over his head. He thinks he hears a harp playing.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Impa finds him the next morning, sitting at a campfire on top of the one hill on the island, looking out on the water.“You were right,” he says as she takes a seat next to him. “Once I was alone, a storm kicked up and the dungeon, temple, whatever, rose out of the water.”“Are you ok? Were you hurt? It didn’t storm back on the mainland,” she marvels.He shakes his head. “No, there wasn’t much to fight.”She sits with him for a moment, watching the sea birds turn and call over the water with him. “How are you inside?”He leans back on his hands. “I think I’m ok?” He sits in silence for a minute. “It was strange in there. I’m not sure how I got out, I just woke up above the tide line.”“I have the last of these portal stones.”She nods. “The next phase begins, then.”He is silent again for a long moment. “Impa, could we just spend the day on the beach here? Another day shouldn’t matter, should it?”“No,” she says. “We don’t need to go back right away.”He nods. “Good.”It’s a good day, tranquil and sunny. The water is relatively calm, and tiny waves lap on the shore line. Link takes off his boots to walk in the sand of the small beach; he stands at the water’s edge for a while, watching the horizon line. Impa stays nearby, but lets him take the day. It’s midafternoon when he comes and sits by her.“I was given a choice in there. That’s what was in the final room,” he says suddenly.She looks to him with a raised eyebrow.“I was offered a chance to put the sword back. I thought about it.”“But you didn’t.”“I didn’t.”“That’s good, Link.” She is still for a beat. “How was that choice presented?”“What do you mean?”“Did you just go in and there was a pedestal for the sword? Was someone asking riddles or making you offers? What exactly happened?”He shifts a little and meets her gaze for a minute, then looks away. “There was a person who said they were a reflection of me, and he looked like me, except he wore black, and his eyes and hair were the wrong color. He said I could put the sword away and it would be like this was a bad dream.” He rushes this slightly.Impa’s eyes widen, and she catches her breath. “Did you just say no thanks and leave?”“Ah, no. Um.” He swallows. “I, um. I ran the sword through him.”“Link. You did what?”He doesn’t repeat himself, but he does turn his head to look at her.“You met a creature claiming to be a reflection of yourself and who looked like you who offered you a thing you have expressed to me you want. You ‘thought about it’ and you ‘ran the sword through him.’ Do I have that all right?”“Yes?” It’s soft, barely above a whisper. He had not really thought of it quite like that.“You’re sure you’re okay?”He turns away again and swallows. “I think I’m ready to go back, I’d like to have a bed tonight.” He puts his boots back on and stands up, looking back toward the shoreline. “I always loved it here. This was my favorite place to just be; it’s so pretty and peaceful. I hope I get to come back.”“I will make sure you come back,” says Impa. He admires her confidence. “But, Link. We are going to unpack what happened here. I worry about you.”He nods. “Okay.”Lurelin is small, and having the Queen in town has created quite the stir. The inn is closed, save for the party from the castle, and set a table for dinner in her honor, all fresh-caught fish and other local delicacies. It’s a good meal, the mood is almost celebratory. He laughs more than he has in a long while, and he forgets the duty strapped to his back for this while.Afterwards, he's nursing a stout on the barracks porch, still feeling warm and happy from dinner, when Zelda takes the seat next to him. They sit quietly in each other’s company and watch the waves roll in.“Are there… lights in the water?” she finally asks.“Yes,” he replies. “There are tiny little fish that glow in the dark. This time of year, they come to the surface and close to shore at night, and it makes the waves light up like that.”“Pretty.”He nods.“I confess, I never had time to visit here before now. You were stationed here for a while?”He nods again. “This is my favorite spot in Hyrule.”“I can see why.”There is silence again, but he thinks it feels comfortable. He does not feel moved to fill it, at least. It’s nice to just sit with her and enjoy being in the moment. After a long while she gets up and places a hand on his left shoulder.“I am going to turn in. I’ll see you in the morning.”He places his right hand over hers for just a moment, looks up to meet her eyes and smiles.“Have a good night. This was nice.” She gives his shoulder a brief squeeze and she is gone. He watches the glowing waves roll, afloat on the sound of the water and smell of the salt air, catching a faint note of lilac.They debrief next morning over breakfast in a small private room in the barracks before heading back and figuring out the next step. Link takes the garnet out and places it in the center of the table.“So that’s it, then,” says Zelda, turning the stone over. “The last of them. It really doesn’t look like much.”“I think I should hold onto this one,” he says. “I don’t think all five of them should be together.”“Why?”“Split them up, and there’s less of a chance they get used together out of our control.”“Sound,” He is pleased with her approval. It’s been a good morning. “You seem to have emerged from this one unscathed? What happened to get to the stone?”He starts with the storm, and the oddly gentle dungeon, with his life in mosaics on the walls, and ends by simply stating he had been given a choice to renounce his sacred duty but refused.“When you say you had a choice, what do you mean? It feels like it should have been more complicated, given the other trials you’ve faced.”His good mood slowly slides away and he feels a bit flustered. Triforce of Wisdom, indeed. “I don’t know if I… has Impa said anything?”“If you spoke to Impa, no, she has not. What happened?”“Nothing happened, it was something I did. I.” He closes his eyes. He’d made his decision in the moment, had not really considered what looking into his own face while serving a fatal blow might be like later. It felt right at the time. “Forgive me, Zelda. I can’t right now.”She reaches across the table to place her hand on his. He grabs it and opens his eyes, meeting hers and taking a deep breath. “It’s okay, Link. You’re okay. Tell me when you are ready. Whenever that might be.”“I think I did the right thing, I made the right choice.”“Link, I’m sorry. Every time I think things can’t get more traumatic for you, it seems like they do.”He doesn’t know what to say after that. He has chosen well... hasn’t he?They are off to a late start after lunch. Link and Impa ride together, ahead of the rest of their small party, leaving the royal guard to escort Zelda.“Can we talk about whatever happened at Koholint Rock?”“We can, but I think I made the right choice.”“Oh, I think you did, as well. I just worry about how you made that choice.”“I knew you’d ask about this. I didn’t think about it. I just did what I did.”“Link, it wasn’t that long ago that you were considering just saying screw it.” He is a little unsettled by the informality, but doesn’t say anything. She continues, “I think whatever happened there was all you.”“Oh, no,” he counters. “He said some terrible things.”“But they were things you’ve thought?” She shifts in her saddle to look at him. “It’s okay if they were. None of us are perfect and good all the time, Link, we are all human and the goddesses made us imperfect. Even if you’re saddled by fate and legend.”He remains quiet and fixes his eyes on the road ahead.“What did he say, Link?”It’s another minute before he answers. “He said this was all unfair. What I’m going through.”“Do you think he was right?”“Yes.” He feels ashamed with this admission.“He, or you, are right; it’s not fair.” He swivels his head toward her. “You’ve been asked to take on so much, and the chosen should just accept that; right? Maybe that happens in stories, but maybe stories don’t mention the doubt and hesitation.”He cannot believe what he is hearing.“It’s completely unfair to you, but you’ve still accepted the role you find yourself in; I’m glad you chose to keep the sword and fight with us anyway.”She sidesteps her mount closer to his so she can reach over and touch his arm. “I’m glad you’re on our side. You’re a good person, Link. I know you’re confused and upset, but you’re a good person. I’m not sure you hear that enough.”“Thank you, Impa. Maybe you’re right on that.”“Do you not think you’re a good person?”“I don’t– I mean,” this is getting uncomfortable, but he decides to push through instead of running this time. “I don’t know. Maybe not. I’m not sure I’ve ever been enough for anyone.” He furrows his brow, unsure where the words came from. “I don’t like to think like this. My life has been fine.”“Oh, Link.” Impa reins her horse in a bit. “I haven’t known you long, but I do know you’re tough. You are ready to help when you don’t want to. I think you try very hard at the things before you. You should be more gentle with yourself, sometimes.”“I’m not sure I want to talk anymore right now.” He twists his fingers into his mount’s mane, grabbing a handful hard.“Then we will stop for now.”At daybreak, Impa and Link go to cross swords before getting back on the road. They push each other hard this morning, until he finally disarms her and knocks her down.“Good job,” she says. He offers a hand to pull her up and then sheaths his sword after giving the blade a twirl.“Thank you.”“That flourishy thing you do sometimes, where did you learn it?”He shrugs. “I didn’t, it sort of came with the sword. I like how it feels.”Link looks down at his boots and shifts his feet.“Impa, are we friends?”“What?”“I’ve been trying to sort things out. I had friends when I was younger, but I moved around so much that I- I lost track of everyone every time, and I’ve never thought about that much. It didn’t seem to matter, really, and I think I forgot how to do it, but I think maybe we are?” He spills this in a rush. “I’m getting tired of being frustrated and alone all the time… it’s hard for me to ask.”She smiles. “We are friends, Link. Come here.” She opens up her arms as he steps forward, confused, and gives him an embrace. He feels stiff and awkward but manages to pat her back once before being released.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Weeks have gone by, and there’s routine at Hyrule Castle. He gets up at daybreak to swing the sword; sometimes sparring, sometimes just working alone. Sometimes there are meetings over breakfast, sometimes over lunch, and sometimes both. Reports of emboldened monsters attacking villages have been coming in, and it appears the peace in Hyrule Link has known his entire life is at an end. There’s tension in the streets of Castletown, a quiet undercurrent of anxiety swirling in the air, causing simple arguments to blossom into physical altercations. Humor turns darker, and people are less likely to linger on their errands. The halls of the castle are not immune to the mood that seems to frame the days, with staff seemingly more on edge. Link has had to apologize to the chambermaid he runs into almost daily on his way to the yard, as she seems to startle at him every morning. He thinks he has heard the shattering of glass in his mind more frequently, but he is nearly reflexive when he reminds himself that he lived.Another small town, this one south of Eldin, in the last greenways before the Death Mountain foothills, has gone silent. There are similarities to Eppon - rumors of it being busy one day, shattered and silent the next. He isn’t sure if that was the news that sparked the nightmare, or if it was coming anyway - but he wakes up in a sweat, sheets tangled around him, heart pounding, trying to recall the images that had felt prophetic. All he can remember is the overwhelming dread, and an open red sky - and a feeling that for once, he wasn’t facing things alone. It is still dark out, but he is done sleeping for the night. He brews a cup of coffee, and takes a seat on his balcony. There isn’t much to see, but he can make out lanterns marking paths in the castle gardens from his vantage. The gardens. He sighs and sips his coffee.He thinks he’s been making an honest effort to reframe his relationship with Zelda, and he still isn’t sure how it is going. He'd suggested taking walks together in the garden during the day, as a way to figure each other out. If they were going to be in battle together, they should know each other well, he reasoned, and she’d agreed. That first one had been awkward. He felt too warm, and conscious of how he moved around her. If she had any idea of his discomfort, she didn’t let on as they went about the outer perimeter of the garden, discussing the weather and what might be served at lunch. He wasn’t sure he was going to offer again the next day, but at mid-afternoon she had declared the need for a break and asked him to join her. Things moved a little more easily day to day after that. Small talk evolved into actual conversation. They shared private jokes. He started to look forward to these breaks. And then there was yesterday . They made their way to the koi pond where Impa and Link had once had a discussion. Zelda tooks a seat on the marble bench and he joined her. The day was warm and slightly overcast, the air overflowing with the scent of roses - a perfect day to be outside, and a welcome contrast to the discussion of the Eldin village they’d had all morning.“I love this garden so much.” She tipped her face to the clouds, eyes closed, smiling. “I kissed my husband here for the first time, when we were courting. Well, I suppose it was my first kiss ever. I think I was sixteen. It was this time of year; I remember the roses being in bloom, and it was warm.”Link was suddenly not sure how much of this story he wanted to hear, but she was off in her memory, and not paying him much attention.“It was early evening, the moon was just starting to rise. Everything was so beautiful and perfect, and he took my chin in his hand and raised it a little and he kissed me.“And then our chaperone caught up to us.” She laughed at the memory. “We were both lectured on impropriety. It was still nice.” She gazed out at the pond, smiling, and watched the large, slow moving fish with their extravagant fins swirling beneath the surface of the water. She hasn’t asked for a response, but he was compelled to fill the silence.“Mine was very different,” he blurted, immediately regretting this announcement. She turned to him, obviously expecting the story. He plunged ahead. “I think I was fourteen? I had barn chores, but in the summer we kept the horses outside all the time, so there wasn’t as much to do. The older kids would hang out behind the barn late in the day, before dinner. Kagun invited me to come with them one day. I don’t remember whose cousin she was, but she was spending the summer. Her name was Malon.” He broke off for a minute and smiled to himself a little. He hadn’t thought about that summer in a long time. It had been a mostly good one, and it feels good recalling it. Malon, with her auburn hair and green eyes and soft lips. He felt safe and maybe loved with her; she was someone he could just be with. Everything was right when he was with Malon.“I kissed her a lot that summer. Sometimes,” he dropped his voice to a scandalized whisper, “sometimes, we would hold hands.”Zelda laughed behind her hand, and his smile broadened.“What happened to her?”His smile froze. “My dad caught us behind the barn one day. We weren’t even doing anything, just sitting together. He wasn’t happy. I didn’t get a lecture.”Link is glad his father hadn’t caught them holding hands or goddesses forbid, kissing. He doubts he would have lived to tell that story.“She got sent back home pretty quickly after that.”He stole a glance at her. Her eyes were wide and her hand was over her mouth. He tried to smile a little. “I still kiss girls, Zelda, he didn’t put me off that. Sometimes I even hold hands.”“Link, that’s awful.”“I didn’t run off to join the military when I was sixteen for no reason, Zelda.”She dropped her hands to her lap and looked him squarely in the eye. “I’m very sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve that. You were just a child and you were just being curious. You didn’t deserve to be punished.”
You didn’t deserve that.
Maybe he hadn’t. He isn’t sure he deserved the nightmares, either. The sky starts to lighten on the horizon. Time to start the routines of the day. He finishes his coffee, fetches the sword in the blue and gold scabbard, and heads to the practice yard. He's loosened up and flowing through forms when a very agitated Impa arrives.“I knew you’d be down here. Sorry about the interruption. We are starting early today. Now, in fact. It might be an emergency. We’ll go together.”“What do you mean, it ‘might be an emergency’? Is everything ok?”“I don’t know how to answer that right now; we can talk on the way.”He feels a snap of fear as he sheaths the Sword that Seals the Darkness and jogs after Impa.They don’t talk on the way, because Impa bumps her pace up to where conversation is impractical. They run through the corridors of the castle to the royal family apartments and to Zelda’s private office, startling staff changing shifts for the day. They arrive a little out of breath, and Link feeling alarmed and very awake. Zelda is already there, apparently pacing the room. She whirls to face them as they enter the office, a flash of worry on her face, gone as soon as he thinks he sees it. He has never seen her so uncomposed. The dread of his dream is upon him.“Impa said there was an emergency?”“Link. I had a vision, in the form of a dream.” Her hands fall to her sides and immediately she takes a fistful of the long pink silk skirt she wears. “I was out under an open red sky. The air felt oppressive and full of...of. That power in the air during an electric storm. It felt like that. Whatever I was about to face, I was not doing it alone, but it felt like something terrible was about to happen... Are you alright?”The coldness he feels must show on his face. “I had that same dream tonight.”Impa suddenly looks grim. “These aren’t dreams.” Her voice is soft and sober. “These are premonitions. You were each present in the other’s dream.”Link darts his eyes to Impa, and then to Zelda, who is already staring at him. He holds her gaze. The endgame is swirling about them, and there’s still so much he doesn’t know. “Do either of you recognize where you were? Think about any details.”“It was cold,” he says, after a moment. “Not Hebra Mountains cold, but cold. Maybe Tabantha cold. No snow, but it felt like it might, the air was heavy, and it smelled like snow.”“I don’t remember it being cold,” says Zelda. “But it did seem like somewhere very open. A big, wide space.”“Cold, wide open, red skies. That is not much to go on.” Impa bows her head in thought.“We found Koholint Rock with less,” mutters Link. He drops his right hand to the pocket in his pants, making sure the garnet he recovered on Koholint is still there. He has kept it on him since returning, determined to keep it from being used against him. How had Impa put it? The next phase? His days of pleasant garden walks with Zelda in the afternoons were over. Time for the next phase.“Zelda. I know you bring magic this battle, but I feel like it’s been vague, at least to me. What form does it take?”“I have my own weapon,” she says, making a motion as though drawing a bow. As she does so, there’s a crackle to the room that makes the hair on his arms stand up. The air takes on a sharp, sweet scent. Magic. An ornate silver bow appears in her hands. Link is not much of an archer, but he feels it looks more decorative than practical, with its half circle shape and delicate filigree limbs. Is it silver? Maybe it’s a metal folded together with more magic than the blade he pulled from the Temple of Time; maybe it’s not metal at all. The string is difficult to focus on, and he’s not sure if it’s a physical thing or not. “It is called the Bow of Light, and it fires light arrows that I can call at will. I can also temporarily produce a shield, but I need to stay in place to cast and hold it. That takes a lot of concentration and energy, I can only produce and hold it for short periods, and it takes time to recharge.”“You can use a bow?” He sounds more surprised than he intended.The way she cocks her head at him and slightly widens her eyes makes him think he is going to regret the question. “This is a ridiculously short distance, Link.”“Just show me what you can do. This is where everyone starts.”It is late morning before they get the archery field closed and secured, and targets set up. The archery master, Impa, and Zelda’s guard captain watch from the sidelines as Link attempts to direct Zelda. The archery master seems a bit amused when Link asks her to hit targets from the first mark on the field.“I can shoot a bow. I used to hunt deer with the king.”“Please, Zelda, just show me,” he pleads. “I am literally going to be a shield for you.”She frowns in response and her look tells him he has committed a sin in her eyes. Then she raises the practice bow, takes aim, and rapidly nocks and fires three arrows, hitting the center of the target with each one landing in a tight grouping.The archery master snorts, unable to contain himself. Zelda turns to Link, smiling sweetly. “Did I do okay?”He slumps just a little. “How far away are you that accurate?”The archery master answers, “You should roll her back to at least the fourth marker.”Zelda‘s face softens. “You need to trust me, too, Link.” His dignity is mostly recovered when they break for lunch. “It is my job to keep you safe, too. I need to know what you can do. Why would I think you could shoot? Why would you need to learn the bow?”“It's part of being well-rounded. I was quite good when I was younger. I still shoot targets for fun and practice. I really thought this was common knowledge - it certainly is on the archery range.”“I never made it past that first shooting line. My eyesight wasn’t good enough for a ranged weapon. I was moved to swords very quickly.” He shrugs. “What’s the range on your bow?”“Probably further than we need. I haven’t tried it much. It seems like a lot of power to call for target shooting.”“You should try it out. Combat isn’t target practice. A weapon is a partner, and you should practice before taking your partner to a big dance. You should also practice shooting on the move. We’re not going to have a stationary target. Oh, and you should practice with someone near you because I do not want a light arrow in my back at any point.”She is staring at him again.“It gets confusing when there are a lot of moving parts. Practice makes you rely less on thinking. It’s why I still practice every day.”Her face hasn’t changed. He rests his forehead in his hand. “I know - saddled by destiny and fate and blood of the goddess, spirit of the chosen hero and everything we are still human and humans fail sometimes, even with preparation. When this is over, I intend to be the one to put the sword back, personally. Not everyone who has drawn it has done so. This mark on your hand isn’t a guarantee of success.”“We can still fail.”Impa has been quietly watching the exchange. “Your majesty, if I may - practicing new skills is never a bad idea, and he suggests a lot of new skills.” She hesitates a moment. “He is correct when he says not every cycle is successful. There are stories, in particular about the Hero of Time, that end badly for Hyrule.”The Hero of Time? This phrase sparks something in the back of his head. “‘Stories’ imply there was more than one, Impa.”She shakes her head. “There was only one, but he traveled several paths by manipulating the flow of time with a magical ocarina. So. More than one story for him. It is thought he did not always win in the end.” The flow of time is always cruel. It’s been a while since he’s heard something like that in his head.“What’s an ocarina?”“It’s an ancient musical instrument,” says Impa. “The Ocarina of Time is actually still in the castle, as it’s an heirloom of the royal family, if you want to see it. No one knows how to work it anymore. It seems to do nothing when played now.”He thinks on this for a minute. “No.” He has enough complications. Zelda asks to go for a walk again the following day. As they approach the entrance to the rose garden, her fingers slip to the inside of his elbow. He expects her to loop her arm around his as she’s done before. But today her fingers skate along the soft underside of his forearm and into his palm before she takes his hand in his. He feels as though he has taken a kick to his chest for a moment. If Zelda notices, she gives no sign. She has to step closer to him. He can feel her on his skin. Without turning her head, she whispers to him. “Do you remember the story you told the other day? About first kisses?”Ah yes, how could he forget telling that story? His cheeks heat and all the pleasant anticipation that he has built crashes around him. He is suddenly that fourteen-year-old boy, dread creeping tendrils around his neck as his father barrels around the back of the barn to find him sitting with a girl named Malon, watching the fireflies come out.
Link! What are you doing with that girl?
He gulps and swallows hard. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it.” She gives his hand a squeeze. He closes his eyes, forcing his way through the myriad of emotions in him. He does not want to get stuck in his head. No one has ever followed up with him before, when he had tried to talk about the family he left in Hateno.He wants to push past it. “It’s okay.”“Are you sure?”He nods, staying on top of the currents in his head, hoping there’s no undertow. She doesn’t say anything further, but leads him through the garden, stopping once in a while to admire a particularly showy blossom. She runs her thumb over his once in a while, the touch keeping him anchored. She brings him to the koi pond, to the same marble bench where they had traded stories about kisses. He takes a seat next to her, his hand still in hers. She turns slightly to face him, and takes his hand in both of hers. “Link.” Her voice is soft and gentle. “Please look at me.”He does as she asks, meeting her eyes straight on. There is no pity there, only warmth. She smiles at him. It is like dawn breaking, golden and welcoming.“I care a great deal about you,” she offers. “You’re a good person. You deserve good things.”He abruptly breaks her gaze, swinging his head away and taking a deep, shaky breath. Maybe he isn’t ready for this. Her thumb circles the inside of his wrist, light but certain. “I don’t know why your father does not see that in you. Maybe he simply can’t. You didn’t do anything to deserve that.”He isn’t sure what his father does or doesn’t see in him. He isn’t sure what she sees in him either, but he wants to believe her. “Please look at me.” The way she says it is a request, not a demand. Then she waits for him. When he finally turns to face her again, she is still steady and calm. He wants to drop her hands so he can cup her face and kiss her right here in the garden, in front of the koi and whatever courtiers might see. But he is still trying to be friends and friends don’t kiss each other, at least not the way he wants to, so he settles for taking her hands in both of his and squeezing tightly. “You said that the other day. I didn’t deserve it.” He wonders if she hears the shake in his voice. “I never thought about it that way. I think…” He inhales deeply. “I think you’re right. I didn’t deserve it.”He leans forward, achingly close to her face, to her lips. Her eyes don’t waver and she doesn’t lean back.“I don’t know why I thought I did,” he says huskily. “I guess I just assumed.”He drops his gaze to her mouth. Her lips are pink and perfect. They look soft. When he drags his focus back to her eyes, something has shifted in them. “You don’t deserve to be thrown away.” Her tone is low and soothing.She moves closer to him. Link’s heart thunders. But she ends up resting her cheek against his. He lets his eyelids flutter closed and draws a deep breath. Her perfume is intoxicating, the lilac overpowering the roses. He exhales a huge, shuddering breath as she whispers to him.“You matter. I am glad you are here.”And then she’s gone.He opens his eyes. She still holds his hands, almost primly in her lap, but her back is straight, her demeanor courtly, her expression unreadable. He wonders if he should just kiss her anyway.“We are going to be missed,” she says, as though nothing has happened. “We should go.”He has waited too long and missed his opportunity. “Thank you, Zelda. You make me think.” Routines move from meetings to the archery range, at least for part of their days. He still makes time to meet with Zelda in the afternoons to tour the gardens when they finish their respective practices. It is where he unwinds and tries to refocus. He assumes this is what she does, as well, as their walks of late are mostly in comfortable quiet. Sometimes she will take his arm and when she does, he enjoys the little thrill he feels. Rarely she takes his hand and he hopes she doesn’t see the catch in his breath.Mostly, they are just quiet, taking in the beauty of the garden as the colors change with the season, ignoring the dark that is still working its way toward them.On the range, Zelda takes aim at moving targets, at first from a fixed point, missing repeatedly until she learns to track them. When she is hitting her targets more often than not, the archery master rigs a blind on wheels with a pulley that she can learn to hide behind and move while shooting. She hits the blind the first several times until she is able to side step with it. Link watches when he can, leaving her instruction to the master, but he tries to be there when she is done. Both to hear about her progress, and learn where she is still frustrated. Link continues crossing swords with anyone who is willing to try him, and slowly works his way through younger and higher-ranked swordsmen. He has become better with the blade than he ever was when he was younger and faster. He feels more fluid, his weapon truly part of him. One day he accidentally does a flip to dodge a swing that came too close, just like that day with Sam and the moblin, and when he lands, everyone else has stopped what they were doing to gape at him. He might be ready. Maybe. It’s late one afternoon when Link decides it's time to step in as a live shield for Zelda. She has been hitting targets for hours, moving with the pulley blind nimbly and seemingly following it without thinking. He declares her ready.She doesn’t agree. “Link, I’m tired and it’s hot. Let’s save this for tomorrow.”“We aren’t going to be able to pick ideal conditions,” he replies. “It’s good to push through being tired sometimes. It will be ok.”He draws a practice sword and a wooden shield, and puts his back to her. “Just move with me, like you do the blind. And aim over my head.” He half turns his head and smiles to her before calling to the archery master to start the targets. He focuses on the target and shifts to stay in front of it, and almost immediately takes a blunt tipped arrow at close range to his left shoulder. He cries out in pain and surprise, spinning to face her. She has already dropped the wooden bow and her eyes are wide. “Nayru, Din, and Farore, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Are you ok, are you hurt?”He rolls his shoulder back, bites his tongue, and turns away. “It’s fine. I guess I’m glad it wasn’t a light arrow. Maybe we should stop here today.” Motion on the sidelines catches his eye. A messenger, out of breath, message tube in hand, running to Impa. He moves his attention to the scene, and Zelda follows him. Impa takes the tube, removes a rolled slip of paper and reads. When she looks up, her eyes find Zelda, and her mouth is pulled tight. It’s not good news on that scrap of paper.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Tabantha Village didn’t have the most original name in Hyrule, but it did have a really great cook at its tiny inn. Link had a lamb stew there he still thought about. And there was that time the night sky lit up with bands of green light dancing at the horizon; he hardly believed that had been real. It is cold in Tabantha, and he found that little village a warm spot on the road.And now, apparently, it is gone. Well, surely, the sky still dances with green light at night sometimes, but that viewing spot on the roof of the inn is gone, and the cook who’d graced its kitchen, and that blonde barmaid with the mismatched eyes at the tavern. And all of it, like Eppon and the town in Eldin. Gone.This time there is a single witness in Tabantha who survived and fled to the castle. The village sat on a route to Rito territory, and that inn had a pair of open air rooms that the Rito preferred, making it a stopover for the flighted people as well. One of those rooms had been occupied.Felmi is young, and towers over most around him. He has gold colored irises, indicating his youth, his pupils pinned down to small points. He boasts beautiful bright green plumage where it isn’t mottled and picked over. He pulls on the small feathers over his breast even as he stands before them in Zelda’s office, seemingly unaware he is doing so. “I hadn’t gone to sleep yet,” he says. Link lost count of how many times Felmi repeated that phrase. “I hadn’t gone to sleep yet, or I would not have gotten away. I knew I had to come here to tell you.”It is difficult to piece the story together. Whatever happened happened fast. Felmi spoke of purple black smoke—or maybe it was something else but it looked like smoke—erupting in the square; and how it spread quickly, building to building, forcing down doors and smashing windows. It was the screaming that got him airborne, and he was too occupied with getting away to see what caused the roof of the inn to collapse, but he heard the wood gables violently erupting as he fought to get lift. Once he was up he flew to the southeast, searching for the castle. He arrived that afternoon, exhausted and terrified, while Link was on his way to the archery range to serve as a living shield for Zelda. “If you think you can sleep now,” Zelda offers after the Rito has started to repeat parts of his story, “we can put you up. There’s a room built for Rito over the library.”Felmi drops a small green feather to the ground. “I.. would rather not be alone, Your Majesty. I don’t know if I can sleep.”“You can sleep on my balcony,” suggests Link. “I’ll leave the door open; I’ll just be inside the room.”The young Rito swings his face toward Link, pupils widening and then pinning again. “That is kind, sir, thank you.”“It’s probably time for all of us to try and rest,” says Zelda. “Link, take Felmi to your quarters. Impa, if you could stay behind for a moment. We will plan to meet for breakfast just after daybreak. I think we are heading to Tabantha soon.”Link motions to Felmi, and the tall avianoid follows him. “If you don’t mind me asking—I have, had, stayed at that inn. What brought you there?”The Rito huffs. “I want to be a bard and I was going to see the world. I am not so sure it’s for me, now.”Link nods. “Adventure is great until you are having one you didn’t intend.”Felmi mutters in agreement. Link is up well before dawn. He doesn’t recall his dreams, but they leave him feeling out of his depth and inadequate. Maybe that’s not quite the right word, he thinks. He should be adequate by now, shouldn’t he? He frowns to himself, brewing tea, wondering when he will feel like he is enough.Felmi is perched on the wide stone railing of his balcony, watching the sky slowly lighten. Link joins him, offering a wide mouthed mug. “I wasn’t sure if you drink tea or not, but I was making some.”“Thank you, sir.” Link notes small green feathers scattered on the floor. Felmi’s breast is picked clean in a few spots. “It is very beautiful here. The gardens in particular.”Link sets the mug on the railing. “You should take a tour, if you’ll be here a bit. Walking the gardens does much to settle the mind. There will be a member of the Royal Guard outside the door, he can escort you if you decide to do that.”Felmi swings his body down to scoop up the mug in his hands and take a sip. Link has never quite gotten used to the upper limb arrangement on the Rito. “Thank you, sir, perhaps I will.” He shifts his weight slightly and resumes watching the sun rise. “Sir, are you going to stop whatever destroyed Tabantha Village?”“I hope to, Felmi.” Hylia, I hope to.The Rito swivels his neck and looks Link in the eye. “I hope you do, too, sir.” Zelda has coffee and there’s cream to add to it today. Link indulges with a little extra, since this morning he isn't sure when or if he might ever be back at the castle to enjoy a cup of coffee. Small pleasures.Impa has been busy all night, with preparations. This is promising to be a larger entourage into questionable territory, with many moving parts. It is going to be a longer journey with a larger party so the sooner they are ready, the better. She reports back on supplies, which members of the guard have been tapped, how many horses are needed, and specifics on Zelda’s security detail. She is exhaustingly thorough and daybreak has turned into late morning by the time she is done.Zelda suggests a break, much to Link’s relief. And then, “Link. I’d like you to accompany me. I need some fresh air.”“The rose garden?”She nods. “I’d like to watch the koi for a bit.”When they get to the garden, Zelda takes his arm and leans on him a bit. “This is getting a bit too real.” She offers in a low voice.It’s been real for him for a long time. Maybe it’s different when this has been on the horizon most of your life. What he says is simply, “Yes, it’s not just stories.”“Do you wonder what this story will sound like in a thousand years, if they still tell it?”“I hope it has a happy ending.”They continue on to the koi pond in silence. The fish are active this morning, a dozen or more orange and black koi roll at the surface of the water, extravagant fins flowing around them. A pair of turtles take in the late morning sun at the water’s edge. They stop to watch the show.“What do you mean by a happy ending?” Zelda finally asks.“I want to put the sword away, when it's ready. I want to be the one who does it.”“That seems like a low bar.”“I am still not sure I can reach it.”“Has it been nearly a year, now, since we first met? I have seen you get stronger and hone your skill. You are better than you were when you drew that blade. I think you doubted yourself at the beginning because you thought you knew your limits. You’re past those places where you thought you ended. You’re just untested, and only because you are out of tests.”“Untested could still be not enough. I just- ..I don’t-” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I have faith in you. I doubt myself.”She slides her hand from his arm and takes his, turning to face him. “I have faith in you, Link. I am glad you are going to see us through. There is no one else. You have gotten through every challenge before you. I believe in you. I want you to believe in you. You are not the person you seem to think you are.”He meets her eyes and squeezes her hand, but it’s to keep him focused this time and to listen to her words. It’s hard to think that anyone is seeing the things they claim to see in him. They are all so much more confident and smarter than him, and he is willing to believe them about everything else. Maybe he should start believing them about him, as well.Maybe.“Link,” she whispers. “We have to believe we can do this. You can do this. I know it.”He nods back, and feels his eyes fill with tears. She pulls him close and folds him into an embrace, telling him it’s ok. He hangs on to her, grateful for a soft place to fall for once. He is still riding dressage; moving from pirouette and passage to piaffe and, once, pesade. A thrill runs through him, as he slowly gets the horse more and more collected. He feels its hind end coil underneath him; front end getting lighter, steps becoming higher and shorter; and then, for just a moment, the horse rocks all of its weight onto its hindquarters and pulls its front feet up. Not rearing, but very collected and controlled. He holds his breath and smiles. Not the most dramatic of the airs above ground; but, still, he’d ridden it.He finds the afternoon session exhausting after the garden, and makes his way to the stables afterwards. The plan is to head out early in the morning. He hopes to squeeze in some time in the saddle. He arrives just as afternoon feeding is starting, a little too late.The riding master spots him and calls him over. “Link, I know you’re off again in the morning. I have a surprise for you. I think you’re ready to sit on a horse with more training, and I think you’ll need one on this trip. This is a special horse. Take care of her, and she will take care of you. I want to see her back.”He leads Link to a box stall with the top half of the door latched open. A tall red mare stands inside, nibbling on a flake of timothy hay, her mane and tail as light as cream. Her legs fade to brown and are tipped with white feathered fetlocks. He recognizes the color as one his father strived to reproduce in his lines, but was never able to.“Oh, silver bay.”The stable master smiles. “Yes, it’s a rare color, very few recognize it. I knew you’d appreciate her.”The big red mare flips her ears forward and steps to the door, hanging her head and neck over the top and whickering to him. The stable master pulls a sweet out of his pocket and offers it to her. “Yes, my lovely, this is Link. You are going to work with him.” He presses another sweet into Link’s hand and steps back. “Hello,” Link whispers and holds out his palm flat, with the sweet on top. The red mare reaches with her whiskered muzzle and sweeps the treat away. Link smiles as he takes his other hand and uses a knuckle to rub her withers. “Hello.”“She isn’t the fastest, but that’s not her job. She will go steady all day, and she is rock solid under you. I have never seen her spook or bolt. Honest as the day is long, too. She’ll do well for you up north.“Her name is Epona.” Epona . He closes his eyes as he rubs the crest of her neck, breathing in her horseyness and almost hears a faint, simple, three note melody. Yes. This is his horse. She turns her head to nuzzle his hip.“I’ll get her ready myself, in the morning, if that’s okay,” he asks.“If you’d like. We start early here.” He is up well before he needs to be, shaking and sweating, hand on the garnet under his pillow. It takes him a moment to realize he is still in his room, because he’d sworn he had been on the road to Tabantha; leaning over Epona’s neck and urging her faster, faster, though he isn’t sure if he is running from something or trying to catch up.And there’s that voice, still ringing in his ears. Sooner than you know, old man. Felmi’s voice floats in from his balcony. “Are you ok, sir?” No . “I’m fine.” “You called out in your sleep.” Link hears anxiety in the Rito’s voice, tone rising with the end of the statement. He grabs a blanket and heads out to the balcony. If he isn’t going back to sleep anyway, he may as well wait for dawn in like company.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Link has traveled in a group before, but it’s always been less than ten, and everyone took turns with guard duty and cooking, and you were responsible for your own shelter.
Heading north with what seems to be half the castle, including the queen, is far more logistics than he has ever wrapped his mind around.
They stop to set up camp far earlier than if he were going alone, and break it far later. There is so much standing around. There is a cadre of Royal guards rotating watch around Zelda. There is a cook, for Hylia’s sake, and staff to accompany her. There are grooms for the horses and servants to pitch tents and strike them the following morning. And Zelda brought a handmaid.
It is going to take forever to get to what had been Tabantha Village.
But.
Evenings are nice. They are a small segment of the organism that is the castle, and on the road things are a little more informal. There’s a communal meal around a fire at night, and there are stories to be told as the cold night closes in. He even tells a few. There is often music as well, and on the third night, there was dancing. Link can barely keep a beat, and he never learned more than the contra dancing they did in Hateno, but he enjoys listening and watching. Zelda even partakes in some of the frivolity, though she is always among the first to turn in for the night. Impa and he stayed up late at least one night, swapping tales in a game of one up that he isn’t sure who won. He is finally part of something; and when he heads to his bedroll each night, he feels warm inside. He wonders if this is what happiness really feels like.
It almost makes up for the dreams.
They are never very specific, but every night he goes to bed feeling good and hours later he is up with a gasp, hair standing up on his neck, sweat leaving him cold, heart hammering away. Usually, he can get back to sleep, but sometimes he ends up striking his own tent and brewing a cup of coffee for his mangled nerves. As nice as it is to be in a group, he reflects on the morning they start the climb that ends at Tabantha Village, it would be very nice to not sleep alone.
It is a cold, clear day. There is no snow, yet, but it's cold enough to consider. The plan for the day is to stop well outside the village and allow a smaller party to ride in and explore. There’s been some argument about the make up of this party as Zelda’s guards are adamant she stay behind. Link feels bad agreeing with them. She will be in harm’s way soon enough, and there’s no reason to flirt with a disaster now.
Link will be part of that scouting party. Impa and a pair of the more seasoned guards will as well. He spends the day in a mobile meeting with Impa and the two guards, planning out how to sweep the village and trying to anticipate what they might need. There’s a delicate balance to be struck between traveling light and being ready to flee, and making sure they have all the tools they might need for whatever they might encounter. He pulls his cloak closer and gently closes gloved fingers on his reins, as the chill has made all the horses a little fresh. Epona tips an ear back to him and settles, putting her energy into a longer stride.
They stop and set camp mid-afternoon. Daylight seems to grow shorter as they head north. The day rolls from clear to heavily clouded, the sky closing in on the party. Camp is made in a tight circle around the fire tonight. He seeks out Impa after dinner, clutching a cup of tea, settling down next to her by the fire. They exchange small talk before he is ready to ask her a question.
“Impa.. do you sleep, ever?”
“I don’t need to.” She pauses for a moment, “Well, not as much as you do.” She leans an elbow on her knee and rests her head on her hand. “It’s a Sheikah thing.”
“I have been having nightmares, and I think they are centered on that village, and I do not want to be alone tonight. I don’t really want to talk about it, and I do not– I’m not... I’m not asking for something improper.” He stops, tilting his head slightly, trying to parse what he wants. “Can you stay with me tonight? While I sleep? Is that ok?”
Impa gives him a quizzical look before laughing. She reaches over to put a hand on his shoulder. “I can stay with you, Link.”
He lets out a breath he’d not realized he was holding.
“Would you prefer your tent, mine, or somewhere neutral?”
When Impa arrives at his tent for the night, he is suddenly unsettled. He quickly tamps the emotion down. This isn't the first time he has spent a night with someone, far from it, so why is it weird?
“You’re sure this is okay?” he asks, giving her a chance to gracefully back out.
She smiles instead. “Of course. You do still want me to stay?”
He meets her eyes, pushing himself to maintain the contact. The nightmares have been bad but it’s worse to wake up cold and alone, trying to convince himself it was just a dream, nothing real, and it’s okay to go back to sleep. He has just asked her to watch over him.
“Yes.” He nods vigorously. “Yes, I do.”
“Great, let’s get settled.”
The tent is really just meant for one, just a modest shelter for a solo traveler, though he is with a large group on the road to Tabantha. He had the option of staying with the guard but he doesn’t really know them. They don’t really accept him, seeing him as an up jumped soldier. He isn’t sure they’re wrong.
He can only imagine what it would be like to wake up stifling a scream in that setting.
“Snug,” observes Impa. She'd brought her own blanket which she wraps herself in before lying on her side. She pats the bedroll next to her. “It’s going to be cozy, but there’s room.”
He hesitates at the tent flap before crawling in. A twinge at his knee suggests he should consider upgrading to a cot in the near future. He settles in next to her, pulling his own blanket over himself. His face is inches from hers.
“I’m not trying to do anything improper.” He isn’t sure if he is speaking to Impa or himself.
“I know.” Her tone is amused. “I trust you. You’re not my type anyway.”
“What?”
Impa laughs. “Has no one ever said that to you before?” She places a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not attracted to men. I like women.”
“Oh.” He digests this information for a moment. “That’s good.”
Impa laughs. “That can't be a new idea for you. You were in Gerudo how long? I know that guard - Tasako? you were involved with…”
“Has a female partner, yes, we are acquainted. They got married.”
Impa smiles at him. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep? You might feel more comfortable with your back against mine.”
She rolls to her other side and rests her head on her arm. Link blinks at her back for a moment before turning to his other side and pushing back until he touches her.
She’s right. It’s good to have her behind him. She is warm and alive and it’s good.
“I kissed a man once.” He isn’t sure why he is telling her this. So many things just come out of his mouth lately. “Like, a real kiss.”
“Is this something you want to talk about?” It feels like an invitation to him, as though she is really interested.
“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s something to talk about and it isn’t all, you know.”
She is quiet. “If you want to tell me, I’d like to hear.”
“I only ever told Tasako before.” He slows to parse his words carefully. It’s been a long time since he’s thought about that summer. “I mean, I was just trying everything when I first got to Castletown. I’d never been on my own like that.”
A smile plays over his lips. “He was in my cohort. His name was Shad. We hung out a lot and did dumb teenager stuff. Like we used to take horses and race and jump over stupid things.”
“The stable master never caught you?”
“Oh, he caught us,” Link chuckles. “Yeah, we cleaned a lot of stalls over that.”
“Anyway, there were a few weeks before we really had to report for training and we hung out a lot.”
An understatement. They’d been nearly inseparable.
“We went swimming one day and it just turned into being rowdy and wrestling and stuff and then he stopped and asked if he could tell me something and I just said sure.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He said he really wanted to kiss me.”
“And…?” There’s anticipation in her voice.
He shrugs. “I had kissed a few girls and I really liked that. A lot. So I said ok.”
It’s been a long time since he thought about that hot summer day, sun beating down on them as they stood in a cold pool far outside the castle walls. It had been a good kiss. The play of Shad’s mouth on his, his faint musky scent, the sounds he made were different and interesting.
Link remembers feeling heat that day that had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with suddenly wondering what his father might say.
He made sure his father never found out.
“You’re killing me. Was it good? Did you like it?”
Link huffs. “It was his first kiss, I’m pretty sure, so it was just okay. I did like it.”
“What happened to Shad?”
“I don’t know, we were pretty young, we drifted when summer ended.” It’s a partial truth, at least, and it will do for now. “Training got more intense. He started to hang out with others. I got involved with a woman who saw me as a toy though I didn’t understand that then. I went to Gerudo, I ended up here.”
They are both quiet. Link turns over the past in his mind, finding all the parts that made him squirm and examining them closely. What happened to Shad? He wonders where Shad is now and if he ever thought about that summer.
Probably not. It was a long time ago.
“Link?” Impa’s voice floats up from behind him, warm and accepting. He isn’t sure how he feels now, after the telling. “It’s okay if you decided it wasn’t for you. It’s okay if you liked it. It’s okay if you’re still not sure how you feel.”
He doesn’t answer her but presses his back against hers more firmly, glad to lean against someone warm in the night.
Later, when he bolts up, the arm across his chest and the voice at his ear make him freeze until he realizes it’s a friend–not something to fight his way out of. He falls back into his bedding and Impa slides her hand to his shoulder.
“That was something,” she whispers. “Is that every night?”
He shakes his head. “Just recently.” He crosses his arms as his heart rate slows. “It’s not even anything specific. It’s just... it’s like just feelings. There’s no images or action, it isn’t really a dream.
“I think they come from outside of me.”
“A message, maybe.”
“Something like that.”
They lay together, silent, Impa running her thumb back and forth over his shoulder. He is still unsettled, but he feels safe. Maybe there is something to having a friend like this.
“Impa, thank you for staying with me. This is definitely better.”
“You’re welcome.” Her voice is a balm.
He hunkers back down in his blankets, and he is quickly asleep.
He wakes up later than he usually does. Impa is gone, but it’s still warm where she had been. He changes into his chainmail and the green tunic, throwing the travel cloak over it and grabbing his gloves before heading outside. He'd thought his tent was cold, but the outside air nearly stops him. The air smells sharp and he can feel things freeze in his head. He hunches his shoulders and heads toward the fire where he can smell breakfast.
Impa calls him over. “Good, you’re up, I was bringing you this. Extra cream, right?” She offers him a mug and he can smell the deep, heady scent of coffee. Pleasure spills over him and he smiles accepting the mug.
“Goddesses yes, thank you. You are too good to me.” He dips his face to the mug and huffs a deep breath before bringing it to his lips and taking a long pull. It’s a little too hot, but he likes the feel of liquid in his mouth and how he can feel it warm him as he swallows. Small pleasures, especially on a morning like this. He closes his eyes and sighs, savoring the moment.
“Thank you, again, for last night.” He chuckles. “Yeah, uh. You know.”
She bumps his shoulder gently. “I know. And anytime. Ready for today?”
“As ready as I am going to be.”
“Great, let’s eat.”
By mid-morning he is mounted on Epona, riding toward Tabantha Village with Impa as well as Liro and Tazo of the guard. The big red mare is a bit of a handful this morning, despite the double bridle he decided he needed today. He prefers a snaffle bit on his mounts, but suspected he might need a little more enforcement this trip, and he’d rather have it than want it. The mare plays with the metal in her mouth but remains submissive. He almost simply needs to think about a request and she responds.
They move along at a jog, letting the trail roll by. By noon, they are still a half hour ahead of them when the first sign announcing the approach to Tabanth village appears. Epona stops in her tracks. Her head and neck suddenly rise, ears swiveling forward, and they freeze. She has gone to full alert under him, nearly electric, and the low rumbling snort she gives says she is ready to explode.
Link takes a quick look around. All of the horses have come to an abrupt stop and are focused on the road before them. Impa’s horse is jigging and working up a foam as she shortens her reins to try and hold him. Epona flips an ear in Impa’s direction for a second before flicking it back forward and she snorts again, feeding on the anxiety of the other horse. She shifts underneath him, and he gets ready for her to bolt. So much for spook-proof.
Impa’s horse half rears and she grabs a handful of mane. “What’s gotten into them?”
“Something we can’t see or smell.”
Liro is on Link’s right, and his mount bounces on its front end twice and then rears straight up. The guard remains mounted, barely, but when the horse comes back down, it whirls and bolts back down the road in the direction they rode in. This is the final straw for the rest of the horses and they erupt in panic, scattering.
Except Epona. She startles under him, and then stands like a rock, eye whites showing, giving another low snort. She flips an ear back to him, asking for direction. Link quickly looks for Impa, not sure which direction her horse bolted. Her chestnut is easy to spot, galloping toward the village. Link gives the mare a swift kick as he tugs his left rein to direct her after the red horse. Obediently, the mare spins and takes a huge leap forward; leaving Link to grab at the pommel of his saddle. She is flying under him, and he stands in his stirrups to get out of her way. He leans forward and whispers
go go go
to urge her on after Impa. She flicks an ear back, and surges on faster.
Link was warned that speed is not the mare’s forte, but she seems to be gaining on Impa with each ground-eating stride. It is difficult to not just be swept up in the thunder of hooves on ground, the sharp smell of the cold, the flow of the body under him. They are one and the same now, and he is side by side with Impa’s red horse. She is desperately trying to bring it to a stop, bracing in her stirrups and leaning back, bringing her hands up to only have her mount fling its head to evade the bit in its mouth. He shifts both sets of Epona’s reins to his right hand, reaches over with his left to grab the rein on Impa’s horse, and sits back down in the saddle.
Easy– easy, whoa, easy
and uses his weight to ask Epona to slow. Immediately, her stride shortens and slows. He pulls the rein on Impa’s horse toward him, forcing the horse off balance and to turn into Epona, hoping the runaway will slow as well. Mercifully, the red horse pulls up and stops. Still jigging and dancing, rolling its eyes and snorting, but stopped.
Impa shortens her reins until she has a tight hold on her mount’s mouth. “Thank you. Stupid horse.”
“He’s just scared, that’s what they do. They run.” He lets go of the rein. “Are you ok?”
“I’m not sure. This is a little more than I feel comfortable with.” Impa wheels the horse in small, tight circles. It definitely would like to be somewhere else. “Maybe we backtrack and find the guards and try this on foot. I’m tempted to get off now after that.”
Link offers to switch mounts, but Impa just looks at the two sets of reins he currently held in one hand and then back at him with a raised eyebrow. “I can ride, but not like you do, and you have an awful lot going on there.”
“Ride double on Epona and I’ll pony your nag?” He takes his left foot out of the stirrup, swings his leg forward and offers his left hand. Without a word, she dismounts, hands him her reins and takes the offered stirrup to climb aboard, settling herself behind him on the cantle of the saddle. They ride back down the trail at a walk, finding Tazo still mounted, but Liro, looking chagrined, on foot.
Link assesses the scene. “I’m sure base camp will be excited to have a single horse gallop in, and the rest of us nowhere. We are close enough. We will leave the horses here and Impa and I will go scout. You two stay with the horses, I don’t want to leave anyone alone after that.”
“What do you think that was?” asks Tazo.
He shakes his head. “I rode through Eppon a few weeks after whatever happened there, and my horse bolted then as well. There’s something they don’t like, and we should be careful. It’s more than just spooky shadows or the wind kicking up. If we are not back as the sun sets, ride back to camp without us.” He thinks he sounds confident with that. He chases away thoughts about missing his own deadline.
“Well,” he turns to Impa, “Let’s go.”
Once they are out of earshot, Link turns to her. “We are not going to split up when we get there. No matter what. Not even a door between us.”
“Do you have any idea what we are going to find?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t. It feels a little like a trap, though. I don’t like that we’ve already been split. We do not do anything without the other. Please.”
She nods. “You’re in charge.”
It takes far more time on foot than it would on horseback, and Link wonders if he’s given himself enough time with an arbitrary deadline. Over an hour later, they arrive at the arch marking the entrance. At least, it had been an arch at one point. Currently it was two posts drunkenly heaved out of the ground with a broken crossbar between them. It still smells like smoke. It’s been a while since he has been here, but the main square is completely unrecognizable to him.
And he’s cold, though it’s been warm in the sunlight on their way up. He stops before the broken arch to take in the scene. The top story of the inn has caved in on itself. The farrier’s shop has burnt to the ground, but the structures next to it seem untouched by flames. The double door of the tavern hangs off its hinges. There is no sound. This place is dead.
Impa nudges him after a moment and whispers in his ear. “Where do we start?”
“The inn,” he whispers back, not taking his eyes off the carnage. “We are not to get caught here after sunset. Let’s go.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Together, they step through the broken arch and take cautious steps toward the remains of the inn. It had been a two story building, but the gables that held the roof up were splintered and shattered, crushing the lower floor. The heavy double doors at the entrance are lying in the middle of the rough road that runs through the center of the village, the door frame itself buckled outward. Link catches an undercurrent of that same heavy, foul smell he encountered in Eppon; it is as though the air itself had curdled.
“What can do something like that?” whispers Impa. “How much power do you need to break things like that?”
He just shakes his head.
They stop at the ruined doorway. The upper floor had come down at an angle, sloping back to front, leaving just a crawl space at the entrance. Link squats to peer into the depths, ignoring complaints from his hips.
Did something lurch in the darkness?
He gets back to his feet a moment later. “Let’s look around the back and see if it’s more open to explore. I don’t want to crawl in there.”
“Agreed.”
The inn is freestanding on one side, where the hitching post is still miraculously unharmed, and Link opts to head there. Most of the outer wall still stands and seems straight. The back is a different story. A single central beam seems to be the resting point for the second floor, and half of the back wall appears exploded outward. There’s still a chandelier hanging that he can see, and destroyed furnishings from the huge common area. Mercifully, he does not see any bodies.
Impa seems to be thinking the same. “What do you think happened to the people?”
“I don’t know. Felmi said there was screaming, but I don’t see any- uh... dead.” He takes a step closer. “Maybe they come out at night.”
“You believe in stalfos?”
“I do these days. Stalfos and much worse.”
“I’m sorry, I forgot about the desert.”
They stare into the back of the inn for another minute before she asks, in a low voice, “Are we going in?”
He glances at that beam. It seems stable and quiet. “Yes. Weapons out. No more than a pace apart. We do not turn our backs to each other.” Keeping an eye on the interior, he reaches his right hand over his shoulder and takes the hilt of the Master Sword, feeling a familiar prickle through his arm and a faint hum in the back of his head. Impa follows suit and draws her sword as well. They make silent eye contact before moving into the inn’s common room.
As they step over the broken wall, the Master Sword lights up, and even Impa hears the sound it makes as it does. They both stop.
“It must always do that, right?”
“It did this after I got killed in the river lands. And in the Gerudo desert. Stay alert. Stay close.”
Mid-afternoon sun filters in through the broken back wall, revealing the remains of the kitchen and common area. There’s a large hearth on the far side of the room that remains intact. A pair of long dining tables are in pieces, their benches splintered. The smell is overwhelming, but he can’t see what must be decomposing in here. Maybe it's somewhere else in the village. He keeps seeing motion on the edges, in dark corners, but there’s nothing when he turns to look. Rats, or mice, probably. Little shy creatures.
He keeps Impa in his peripheral vision. She is silent when she moves, and he does not want to risk losing track of her, even in this relatively small space. They advance; slowly, carefully, one cautious step at a time into the common room. Mindful of how many times spiders had fallen from above him in Faron, Link scans the walls and the partially collapsed ceiling, but they seem quiet. Impa draws herself up short as they get to where the ceiling angle no longer allows them to stand.
“Link.” He has to strain to hear her, even though it’s silent and she is next to him. “There is something in here.” Her left hand reaches out and lightly brushes his right forearm. He turns his head slightly, to keep her in view while looking where she gestures with her sword hand.
It’s darkest where the ceiling nearly meets the floor at the front of the common room. It seems darker than it should be, thinks Link, given that the back of the building is open and it’s daylight. He leans forward, trying to focus on what might be hiding in front of them.
They hear the sound of leather being dragged over stone. The air takes on that same sharp, sweet scent it had when Zelda calls her bow, but the sweetness is cloying instead of pleasant. He steps closer to Impa and draws a breath. She sinks slightly, softening the angle in her hips and knees, raising her weapon as they share a quick glance. Without breaking his gaze from the darkness, he takes his left hand and swings the royal blue shield with the crimson loftwing off his back, ready to defend them both.
He raises the shield just as something explodes from under the collapsed ceiling and strikes it with enough force that he grunts and takes a step back. They are both suddenly surrounded by darkness. Impa takes a step back as well, and then she presses her back against his.
“We are not getting split up,” she snarls in his ear.
Link has never formally been in battle with others, except to scatter monsters, but he is glad to have her at his back. The air seems to thicken around them, and the temperature drops, enough that he can see his breath.
“This is not the dance partner you were supposed to bring, old man.” That smoky voice is at his left ear. He pushes his left shoulder back, both to raise the shield and to get Impa to shift with him, and turns to face the speaker. The darkness shifts and swirls, with shapes he can’t quite see. Impa turns her head as well, raises her blade and holds her position. It does not seem like she heard the voice.
And then she sharply jerks her head to her left and hisses, “Who are you?”
“Impa, whatever you are hearing, ignore it. It is trying to rattle you. Stay with me.” He raises his voice, addressing whatever presence lurks in the darkness. “Your business is with me.”
“And yet you brought her with you.” This time he thinks he can feel breath at his ear. “You chose to put her in danger.” He hears her draw a sharp breath and she pushes back into him. Is she hearing what he does, or is it different for her?
“Show yourself, and we can decide who is in danger. You seem to talk a lot.” Adrenaline courses through him. He can feel his heartbeat, and is aware of every small detail he can soak in–the visible puff of air when he speaks, the scent of magic that has been twisted somehow, the feel of Impa at his back and the soft sound of her breathing. There is anticipation in the back of his mind, and it feels as though the moment stretches, time slowing.
If now is the time, he is ready to go. He resists an urge to flip the glowing blade.
Something hits the shield hard. Hard enough to jolt his arm to the shoulder and push him backwards into Impa. He is off balance but takes a swing anyway, not sure what he might be trying to connect with. The sword hums through empty air. He feels Impa move and hears her grunt. She must have connected. He turns to take another strike and this time he hits.
He'd marveled at how the sacred sword felt, the first time he went after a moblin with it. This is different. This is the task it was forged for, and it
knows.
As the blade bites into flesh, his vision is filled with golden light, like the day he drew it from its pedestal. He has done this before. Hasn’t he? Another lifetime, too young to know the world, old enough to think he did. How many times has he taken this particular swing and had this moment to touch on his pasts?
He finishes his followthrough and is back in the dark. The shapes have coalesced into a figure towering over him, here and not here. Incorporeal and still wounded by the Blade of Evil’s Bane.
“Seems you haven’t learned all the tricks you should know by now, old man.”
Link is not quite panting. There is blood on the blade, but the wound doesn’t look like a fatal one to him. The figure before him hardly seems to notice. He is young, thinks Link. Maybe twenty-five. Maybe. Tall, physically imposing. He has red hair and dark eyes that are fire and steel. The armor is ornate, but functional and probably the only reason the Master Sword has not eviscerated him. Anger begins to simmer within him and he raises the bloodied blade.
“Seems I know enough.” His voice is husky and dangerous.
“Consider this just a sample, old man. You will wear and break before me.”
Link bares his teeth and keeps his eyes locked. “Why wait?”
“Bring your proper dance partner next time.” Everything plunges into darkness. The spoiled sweetness is gone from the air, as suddenly as it had come, and the room warms, just a little.
And then it’s daylight again, but the afternoon has moved on, the sun on its downward arc. “Impa, we should go back…”
Wait. He doesn’t know when he stopped feeling her at his back. She is just gone.
“Impa?”
He swivels his head, confirming he is alone in the center of the common room. Panic wants to bubble and rise, but he pushes it down, willing himself to focus. He is not leaving without her.
“IMPA!”
And then he spots her, back where the kitchen had been. She managed to get herself half way up, and is holding her head in her hands. He bolts across the floor, sword and shield still in hand.
“Impa! Are you ok, please be ok, goddesses, please be ok.” The shield and sword clatter to the floor as he drops next to her. He reaches for her shoulder and she startles hard, gasping and turning to him. She is wild eyed and bleeding from a cut on her forehead
“It’s just me, it’s Link. Can you get up? I think we need to get out of here, now.”
She huffs a sigh of relief and nods. “Give me a minute, I hit my head.”
He nods back and gets to his feet, putting away blade and shield. He finds her sword a short distance away and retrieves it before returning to her side and offering a hand to help her up. She gets up, but seems unsteady. He swings his left arm around her waist. “Put your arm across my shoulder. I’ll get you out of here.” She nods and complies. “Just lean in when you need to.”
He checks the sky. Twilight is just beginning to creep. They are going to miss his deadline. With a grunt, they cross the floor, Impa’s blade in his right hand. They manage to limp out of the inn and back under the broken arch as the sky starts to darken. They will just have to go as far as they can alone on foot.
Thirty minutes later, he hears hoofbeats coming toward them. Impa has been quiet, but she lifts her head at the sound as well. He stops and tightens his grip on Impa’s sword.
The red-brown horse is riderless and wears a double bridle, reins trailing. She slides to a stop in front of him, shaking out her cream colored mane and snorting once.
“...Epona?”
The mare stretches her head out to him, blowing into his face. He returns the greeting.
“Impa, do you think you can ride?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It’s well past midnight when the guard on watch stops them. Home at last , he thinks. Epona is handed off to some half-asleep groom, and he insists on staying with Impa as she gets looked after. He gives her his hands to clutch as the field medic puts careful silk stitches in her forehead and warns she will have a scar.“I’d like you to stay here,” says the medic. “You must have taken quite a knock. I’d like to keep an eye on you, ok?”“I’ll stay with you, Impa,” offers Link.The medic looks at him sideways and wrinkles her nose. “You should go get some sleep. It's nearly daylight.”“I can sleep here.”“Suit yourself.”He settles into a cot near Impa and is asleep before he hits the pillow.He isn’t sure how long he has been sleeping, but when he stirs, Impa is still snoring away. Something is cooking on the fire outside, and he is hungry, so he whispers to her that he will be back. He steps out of the tent, right into the back of a guard apparently standing over it.“Ahhhhhhh, hi.”“Sir, I’ve been instructed to bring you directly to the Queen when you were up.”“Can I get some coffee on the way?”He does manage some coffee, with cream. He warms his hands on the mug, still weary as he stands before Zelda in her field office.“I almost came to see you both when you got in,” she starts, her words a little rushed and worried. “We were worried when the one horse showed up as it was. The horse you came back on ran off when the guards started back. It appears she knew what she was doing.”“She is a good horse,” he agrees.“What happened to Impa?”“I don’t know exactly. We encountered- I’m... not exactly sure what, it was sort of there and sort of not. But it spoke to me, and I’m pretty sure it spoke to her. And attacked us.“I’ve been having nightmares. I think that...entity was the source. I did get a hit on it with the sword and it seemed less... spirit-like, I guess, for a moment. It was more physical for a moment.”He pauses, remembering Impa with her head in her hands, blood seeping between her fingers.“I’m worried about her, but the medic seemed to think she will be ok.” He finishes. “It told you to bring your proper dance partner next time, did it?”“It did. It did not seem happy to have Impa there. It found you, too, then?”“Yes, late in the day yesterday. I’d prefer to go over this with Impa, as well, when she is able.” Zelda straightens herself up, and slightly cocks her head.“I’ve missed our walks, Link. If it’s ok, I’d like to take a walk with you later? I am dogged by guards everywhere, it would be good for me to leave them behind for a short while.”“Of course, I’d like that.”He visits with Impa, who is awake at last, but laying low. The stitches in her forehead look angry to him, but the medic assures him that is normal. He ends up napping next to Impa until she pokes him awake so as not to miss his appointment with the queen.He meets Zelda at her tent, where she is shooing away a guard, assuring him that she will be in the company of the Hero of Hyrule, for Hylia’s sake. She is dressed for cold. Gone is the pink and gold silk dress. She is turned out in boots and pants, a long pink overcoat and gold gloves. He greets her and offers his arm to her.She takes his right arm. It’s just like the garden. “I’ve missed spending time with you. There is a lack of structure compared to the castle, and yet it’s also more formal in some ways.”He frowns a little to himself. The little thrill he feels says he is failing at this friendship thing. She has missed spending time with him. He knows he will be examining those words like a treasure later.“I have missed you, too,” he says softly. He darts his eyes to the side, meeting hers, and she smiles at him before turning her attention forward.“You are carrying that amethyst, still?”“What? Oh, yes.” He taps the pack on his belt. “I believe I know where they go, these stones.”“That’s good, right?”“I’m still not sure if they are a trap. I would really like to talk to Impa about what happened to her, but I don’t think she is ready yet. Would you have insight?”He shakes his head. “I think she heard voices, probably the same one I heard, but I think it told her different things. It tries to get in your head.”They wander the periphery of camp in silence for a bit. After a while she comes to a stop and gestures to a ridge. “Let’s go over there. I bet there’s a nice view of Hyrule Field.”The view is nice. It looks into the wide, shallow bowl of green from the northwest. The castle is an elaborate doll house from here, rising above the community within its walls. It looks like it’s probably still warm, thinks Link, stamping his feet.“I feel like I’ve broken you.” Zelda’s voice breaks his reverie.“...What?”She turns to face him. “I’ve been thinking about you. Something terrible has happened to you every time you’ve gone out. Things were nice at the castle and as soon as we leave... I’m sorry.”He shifts his feet and looks down. “I think I was already broken, I just didn’t know until... until the sword.” He looks back up and meets her gaze for a moment. “I. I’m not sure what I want to say. I really thought everything was ok for me until I drew the sword, and then I saw everything wasn’t. I blamed the sword for a while, but. Everything wasn’t ever ok.” He slips his arm out from under hers and takes both her hands. “This is better, I think? I met you, and Impa, and in some ways this is like being under my brother’s roof.” He draws a deep breath.“Maybe, if the sword chose someone else, I would never have known I was broken, and never gotten to have things like this.”He swallows and steadies himself. He is not sure exactly what he has laid out before her. He is not sure what the reaction is that he is hoping for. He hopes that she will be kind and gentle.She nods in silence. “I like to think that you seem to have past heroes at your back, at least.”“They are, sort of. Sometimes I recognize things I’ve never seen, or do something. I wish I could talk to them. Zelda, do you recall the past princesses? Do they speak to you?”“I think it's different for me,” she starts, tilting her head in thought. “There is only one goddess and she awakens in mortal form. I think she is always there, even when there’s no cycle.“The soul of the Chosen Hero is a little different, I think. They can be anywhere, though they may never know, if they are not called forward. Didn’t you ever feel like you might be special?”The snort he makes is nearly involuntary. “No. Oh, no. I have never been anything special.”She frowns a little at him, and adjusts her hands to interlace her fingers with his. There’s a zip of emotion up his spine, sending the hairs on his neck up.“Link, I do not understand what happened to you- why you think you have no value. I need you to know that you are worthwhile and you always have been. I like you, a lot, and I am glad to have the chance to know you.”He feels his pulse quicken, while part of him wants to freeze up. His sense of time slows, and the world is quickly just becoming the two of them. He squeezes her hands and takes a deep breath. How long can he look into her eyes like this?He cuts his gaze away, still hanging onto her hands. “Do you remember the other Links?”She lets him change the subject. “Bits and pieces. Some better than others.”He is thinking about how, exactly, he’d kiss her; and casts back into his head, desperate for a distraction. “Was Hyrule really once in the sky?”“No. That was called Skyloft.” Skyloft . He has a flash in his mind, soft greenery, an improbable river flowing across an island in the clouds. He can smell the flowers and feels as though he is falling. Falling.One of the first memories he’d had was a sensation of falling, a long distance, he didn’t get to the bottom of it. That happened in Skyloft.“OH! Skyloft.” He turns back to face her. “You pushed him... me? Off it once, I think.”She blushes, just a tiny bit. “I did, and I’m sorry, sleepyhead.” Sleepyhead .Has she called him that before? She has, hasn't she? “Are you still my Zelda?” It comes out a husky whisper. The moment is too much for him. Be brave . He drops her hands and steps forward, taking her face in his hands, closing his eyes, and he kisses her as though this is the last thing he will ever do.He has had a lot of first kisses. He likes them quite a bit, how they are a little clumsy and a little magical, sloppy or sweet, and maybe a little of all of that. This one is an electric jolt to his core, clearing his mind of everything except how her mouth works against his, the little breathy sounds she makes, how sweet she tastes.He stops to catch his breath, and when he opens his eyes he is staring into hers and what he has done is upon him. He starts to apologize when she takes the front of his tunic in her hands and pulls him back in, darting her tongue into his mouth this time. He is swept back to the place where it’s just the two of them. When they break this time, they stay close - his hands on her face, her hands clutching his tunic, forehead to forehead, letting the world stop for a moment. He does not want to think beyond this spot in time. This is enough.She breaks the silence. “Well.”“Zelda,” he whispers. “I am so-”She takes a hand from his tunic and places it on his lips. “No. Don’t apologize. There is nothing to be sorry about.” She drops her hands and takes a step back from him. He lets her go. They stand in silence, looking each other in the eye for a long moment. She finally turns her head away slightly, smiling. “I feel a bit like a teenager.”He laughs. “I think we are supposed to be teenagers.”“Fair.” She turns back to him. “I think we should go back.”“What about this?” He feels a little wild. Moments before everything was good and at peace and everything was right, and now the bottom feels unstable.She considers him quietly. “I don’t know. I think we should go back for right now. I need to think. We still have work to do, hero.”He feels himself close down. Things are beyond what he can control, so he steps back into what he knows and offers his arm. “Then let's go back?”She takes his arm and they head back in silence. He doesn’t really pay much attention as he drops her off at her tent. She still tingles on his lips, and his head spins. He tries to check on Impa, but she has been released. He thinks about tracking her down, decides he needs to work through the afternoon alone, and heads to his own tent. He ends up on his back on his bedroll, hands over his eyes, replaying how she had grabbed him, and wondering exactly why she tasted sweet and what did she need to think about? He wondered if she had felt that jolt, too. She had to have, right?
Stay distracted, old man.
He throws his hands to his sides and pushes himself up part way, listening carefully, not sure if that had just been inside his head or whispered next to it.It can’t really be a bad thing, can it, for Wisdom and Courage to find each other like this?Can it?He gets to his feet with a sigh and heads out to find someone, anyone, to just sit with by the fire.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It’s summertime, and he is sitting behind his father’s barn, back against the rough hewn boards, left arm stretched across her back. She has rested her head in that spot between his neck and shoulder, and he can feel her breath on his skin. He rests his head on hers and intertwines the fingers on his right hand in her left. Her right hand rests on his leg, and she traces slow circles on his knee. It’s hot and still. They are both sweating behind the barn, watching the sun slowly dip below the hills. He hopes they can watch fireflies come out before they get called home.No one calls for them as the sky darkens, and when the fireflies come out, she shifts, picking her head up and dropping his hand so she can caress his cheek. When he meets her eyes, he realizes that of course, it’s Zelda. He smiles and she leans forward to put her lips on his. He tilts his head to meet her, heart fluttering. She is warm and perfect and in his hands.
Link. LINK! What do you think you are doing with that girl?
That’s not his father’s bellow.His eyes snap open and he sees fear in hers before she vanishes from him, leaving him cold and alone in the dark and it’s not Hateno and the barn anymore, it’s that inn in Tabantha and what he is feeling is fury as he shouts back at the dark–daring it to come for him. He wakes up still angry and agitated as dawn breaks. He snatches the sword in the blue and gold scabbard and finds a flat spot outside of camp where he works his emotions out until he is sweaty and out of breath. He sheathes the sword and stomps over to the fire, warm and damp, looking for breakfast. Impa sidles up to him as he stares at his second cup of coffee that morning. There’s no more cream, and he is grumpy about drinking it black.“Hey, stranger.” He smiles at her despite his mood. “How are you?”“Back to work this morning, it seems,” she replies. “I have been sent to collect you for debriefing.”He nods and wonders how that might go after yesterday. When they arrive, Zelda is in her field office, asking questions of the guards who had been with them on the way to Tabantha Village. She glances over at them as they enter the tent, and Link feels her eyes linger on his a moment as she gives him a ghost of a smile. He gives her a nod back and his face feels a little warm.
Don’t be distracted. There’s still work to do, Hero.
He has not thought of himself like this before, and he is a little surprised to have done so. He rolls the idea around his mind– hero –and decides it might finally fit.Zelda dismisses the guards and welcomes Link and Impa to the small table serving as her field desk. “I’m glad you are both okay. That could have ended very badly. Why don’t you both take seats? It’s a little cramped, I’m sorry.”Link and Impa end up across the table from each other, and it is cramped. He is very aware how close his leg is to Zelda’s. She seems oblivious.
Don’t be distracted.
“Impa,” Zelda spreads out paper before her and readies a quill. “I’ve heard Link’s account of what happened in the Tabantha Village. What happened to you?”Impa draws a deep breath, folds her hands in front of her and focuses on them. She goes quiet and serious.“I went back to back with Link when we were attacked. There was a voice at my ears and it said terrible things. I shouldn’t be there, he-Link- had no business putting me in danger. It was quite. Specific. About what would happen to me, right to putting images in my head.” She closes her eyes and takes several slow, deep breaths. Link darts his eyes to Zelda and she is already looking to him. They hold each other’s gaze in silence, waiting for Impa to come back.“It was very graphic,” she finally whispers. “But in the end it was satisfied with just a laceration instead of removing the top of my skull.”Link closes his eyes and sighs, suddenly very grateful he had not had to go scrambling for the top of Impa’s head in Tabantha. Would she have risen as a stal or a redead? He isn’t sure how those worked. It’s a terrible thing to think about, and he pushes it away with a frown, shifting in his chair. His right knee contacts Zelda’s thigh as he does so. He pulls his leg back as his heart gives a nearly audible thump. The tips of his ears flush and he flicks another look to her, meets her eyes briefly and turns his attention back to Impa.Impa is resting her chin on her hand, and furrows her brow at him. “I’m glad you’re okay.” he whispers and reaches out to touch her wrist.“What do you two believe you encountered out there?”This, he can answer. “Oh, that was Ganondorf.” Positive.Impa shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”He cocks his head at her. “Who else could it possibly be?” He has been sure of what has been dogging him since the desert.“I don’t think whatever we encountered in Tabantha was Gerudo,” offers Impa. “Nothing says he has to be, either.”“...Aren’t we all chained together, though?” asks Link, his voice rising. “I thought all three of us were bound?”“I see what you mean, Impa. The Incarnation of the Goddess is always from the Hyrulean Royal Line, though there are some who think that could be any Hylian. Nothing specifies where the Spirit of the Hero or the Curse of Demise ends up, Link. There are the usual tropes, but nothing is guaranteed.”Link squints trying to assemble this with the crash course he’d had about the Master Sword with his brother. He wishes he could go back and talk to Kagun more. Is that true? He asks the blade on his back.
You have not always been born Hylian, Master, if that is the question–although it is the most common.
He leans back as much as he can. This keeps getting bigger than he imagined. It's already bigger than he is.“He, or- it, I don’t know, keeps calling me an old man. It seemed younger than us, when I hit it. I’m really confused.” And more than a little concerned.Impa softens her look a little. “Nothing about this cycle seems to fit with what is assumed to be a pattern, Link. Wisdom and Courage are contemporaries; and usually really, really young. Power is generally older. Maybe that’s flopped.”Link drops his face to his hands. Maybe if he can’t see anything he will be able to put it together better. “What is the difference between Ganondorf and the Curse of Demise, though?”“Ganondorf is just his name when the Curse manifests as a male Gerudo.” Impa replies. “There have been other manifestations that cause the cycle to arise. If this one is younger, then that’s why you didn’t draw the sword as a boy, Link. Literally no need. Then.” Impa brings her hand to her chin and furrows her brow. “I wonder what happened to push you forward, though. You’d taken that hilt a few times, right?”When did the wheels on his destiny start spinning, without him ever being aware? He starts getting stuck in his head when Zelda reaches out to take his hand off his face. He knows it's her. He can feel warmth on the back of his right hand; and even with his eyes shut, he can see flickers of golden light. He opens his eyes and turns to face her.“We are doing this together, Link. You’re not alone.”He smiles and squeezes her hand. “The base of the triangle, together,” he whispers.Perhaps he holds her gaze a little too long.Impa shifts, giving Zelda a questioning look out of the corner of her eye. Zelda seems to completely not notice as she drops his hand and jots something on the paper before her. Link sees the interaction though, and when he flicks his eye from Zelda to Impa, he finds that the Sheikah woman has turned her attention to him. He meets her eyes and wishes he had papers to hide behind too.“What’s going on?” she asks.Link freezes up and swallows as quietly as he can. She knows . Somehow, she knows.Zelda innocently looks up from her paperwork. “I’m sorry?”Impa redirects her attention to the queen, allowing Link a second to close his eyes and breathe a small sigh of relief.“What happened between you two?”
Oh, she doesn't know.
Zelda meets Impa’s gaze. “Why do you ask?”“Something is going on. What is it?”“Nothing you need to know.”Impa cocks her head and raises an eyebrow before swiveling back to Link. He glances to Zelda for support and guidance. Her face is serene and unreadable, but there’s an intense spark to her eyes. He might melt. It would be easier if they were both just moblins.“Nothing. There’s nothing.” He manages to pin the end of the sentence with a confident note. Zelda gives him a small smile that Impa misses.Impa leans back and crosses her arms. “There is definitely something between the two of you. I hope it is nothing.”“Back to business.” Zelda taps the desk. “I have a better idea about all those stones you’ve picked up, Link.”She does have a better idea. The stones did not need a specific location, as she had first thought, but they did need to be placed in a specific pattern relative to each other, and they needed magic to work, though Zelda felt she could do that. Together they would open an alternate space, through which they would push whomever held the Curse of Demise.Link is still skeptical. “We should make sure this works before we need it. I like that it gives us an advantage of picking where we do this, but - What if it doesn’t work?”After some debate, they decide they are close enough to the empty Tabantha snowfields for testing. And the town of Wolfpeak is close enough and large enough to serve as a base. They break before lunch with plans Impa is to set in motion. Zelda stands and dismisses them.“Link, can you stay a moment?”Impa raises her eyebrow at this, but says nothing and exits the tent. Link waits, with no idea of what she is about to ask of him.“Do you think we could go for a walk? I have something I’d like to talk to you about, and our walks have been good for that sort of thing.”It's been a turbulent morning, emotionally, but he feels a surge of something good. “Of course.”“Great,” she opens the tent flap and steps outside, and takes his arm once he follows. “Let’s go, then.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They start off together at a slow pace.
“Anywhere in particular?” he asks.
“That ridge with the view of Hyrule Field. That was nice.”
He nods. “It was. What did you want to discuss?”
“It can wait until we get there.”
He has an idea of what she wants to discuss. They wander the edge of camp as it goes about its day-to-day activity, and eventually end up back on the ridge, looking out over the far-off green of central Hyrule.
“Link. About yesterday.”
He braces himself, but doesn’t say anything. He finds the castle and decides to marvel over the walls surrounding Castletown.
“I have been thinking. Thinking a lot. Maybe we should just see where things go on their own.”
What
. He rocks onto the balls of his feet and back. “Uh, sor-what?”
“I think we can let things between us wander on and see where they go. We need to be discreet.” She takes a long pause, choosing her thoughts with care. “This is getting very real, and I am feeling the pressures of this role. It is lonely.”
She stops and shifts her feet, tightening her grip on his bicep. “Very lonely.”
He tilts his head as she increases pressure. Her gaze is far away. He isn’t sure she realizes how tightly she is holding on.
“You understand this - how it feels here. You are easy to be around. I enjoy being around you.”
She stops again. He flicks his eyes to her, then forward again.
“I am often slow to ask for things,” she whispers. “Even things I need, things I want. I need to know I am not alone, I want you to be at my side. It would be nice to have one good thing right now.”
He finds a spot on the horizon to focus on. There is no name for the emotion he feels, but it’s reckless and hopeful and good. He can feel the pulse at the base of his throat and is grateful the cloak he wears covers it. “I... I would like that, Zelda. Very much.”
He stares out over the view, but nothing is registering very deeply. He is full of pink light and fairy sparkles. It’s a wonderful way to feel. A moment later, he turns to face her for the first time. She is already looking at him, her expression soft but confident. There is fire in those blue eyes, and it is for him; it is his.
“May I kiss you, again?”
She smiles. “I would like that, Link. Very much.”
She is already so close. He closes his eyes and leans in.
He doesn’t really remember walking her back into camp later. He feels taller and his steps are lighter. It’s good to not have the fate of the world at the forefront, if only for a little while. He brings her back to her field office where she dismisses him with a nod, and he thinks about how he still feels her lips on his.
This is a good day. It is a day that cannot be ruined. It’s one he will think back on, later, when he needs to draw strength from nothing.
Camp breaks late the next morning, and the ride to Wolfpeak starts uneventfully, at least. Link suspects he is getting a room out of this, or at least a bed. He’d be very happy with just a bed. Weeks on the road in the cold leave him stiff in the morning, and his limp is far more pronounced. Using this town as a base camp should work out better than this traveling show they had been. They still have a few days of travel before them, and he daydreams about sleeping off the ground as the road rolls on.
He hopes that whatever is destroying little villages doesn’t decide to try a larger target.
Impa is declared fit to ride, and manages to trade her chestnut horse for something larger and calmer. She feels well enough to prod Link on what may have transpired between him and Zelda. On the second afternoon, she presses again while they trailed behind the group, and he finally asks her for rose garden rules.
“You know,” he says. “What I tell you doesn’t leave the garden.”
She considered it for a long minute.
“I mean it, Impa. Rose garden rules.”
“Fine. Rose garden rules. What happened?”
He side steps Epona closer to her and drops his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “We went for a walk. In private. But also in front of everyone”
Impa rolls her eyes and pulls her horse to a halt. He sinks into his saddle a bit, closing his hands on his reins, marching Epona to a halt as well.
“It was nice. I would do it again. I’d like to do it again, and I think she would as well.”
“Link. Come on.”
“Okay, then. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. We held hands. Also nice.”
“Link.”
“You’re tough. So, what then. Oh, yes. We kissed. Again nice, would do it again.”
“You did not. Did you?” She snaps around to stare at him hard. He just meets her and reminds himself he is not lying to her.
“You’re impossible,” she huffs, exasperated. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone.”
“Thank you,” he sings and clucks Epona to a trot to catch up.
The next day she finds him early. The wound on her forehead is healing well, he thinks. Her stitches might come out before they get to Wolfpeak. She sits next to him as he works on yet another cup of black coffee, and then leans into him, lips at his right ear.
“You did kiss her, didn’t you?” He wonders if she figured it out alone. She probably did.
“Yes, that’s what I told you. Impa,” he whispers back. “And this isn’t the place for this.”
“Then let’s go find a place, because I have questions.”
He rolls his eyes and tosses his head, clutching his coffee mug closer. “Let’s go.” He turns and heads to the perimeter of the camp, Impa trailing behind.
They have gotten just out of earshot when she grabs his sleeve to stop him. “You kissed her.”
“I did. She kissed me back. It was good. I don’t see why it matters.”
Impa opens her mouth and reconsiders whatever she is about to say. “It matters because you both have the fate of the world upon you.”
“If that world does not include spaces for people to find each other, it does not deserve saving. Impa. You cannot wait for things to be perfect to do things. Sometimes you need to just do them.”
“This is not really an ideal time for something like this.”
“There is never an ideal time for anything, Impa. You have to take things as they come. If I die,
and I might
, I still got to kiss her.
“I had a discussion with a friend in Gerudo. How did she say it? Mortals love in more different ways and more deeply than gods do. Why do the goddesses need us to settle their old scores? Maybe it’s because mortals can do different things. It was the best first kiss I’ve ever had. It was different.” He drops his head and studies the tops of his boots for a moment, before turning back to Impa. “I think we are better for it.”
“Well, you’re both adults.”
“We are.”
They stand together in silence for several minutes. “I’m not going to regret it, Impa.”
“I did not imply you would.”
“It's just. It's fine for this big story to play out here, and I’m sure it will be exciting to tell someday. Going through it, it's different. And it's lonely, and I’m tired of walking alone. It feels right. How can it be wrong? All I did was kiss her.
“Why do you seem upset, Impa?”
“I worry. It is my job to advise. It is hard to separate the job from the relationships. The discussions we - Zelda and I - had seemed to lean differently, but maybe she had other thoughts all along. I am glad if you’ve found something, whatever it is, but I hope neither of you are distracted with whatever it is you’re doing. We all hang in the balance.”
“You think we are being selfish.”
“Maybe.” She meets his eyes sympathetically.
“I think that we need to work together and if we are doing so with trust and all, that has to be better. If that trust comes with having a person who you can enjoy being with just to be. It is good for me to have something like this. Maybe it's not the intimate friendship you envisioned, but I think it is good for my soul. I hope it’s good for hers. I need a bright thing out here, Impa, that’s all. I am not sure why I need to justify it to you?”
“You don’t, and I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”
“No one is running off; it was just a kiss.”
She says nothing. He does not like feeling judged. “It was just a kiss,” he repeats.
“It is what it is, Link. We move forward from here. Let’s go warm up your coffee.” She turns and heads back. He stays for a moment, thinking. He doesn’t regret kissing her, he’d do it again. Surely the goddesses cannot be so cruel as to force responsibility and then tease him with the hope of love - however that might mean - but withhold it.
Right?
Right?
And then he has a thought. Has his entire life just been divine manipulation?
This stops him cold. He wonders if he should pursue the thought further, and decides if he was meant to be bold, then why not?
But what if...
He'd wrapped his hands around a holy relic when he was sixteen, and that act let the goddesses know he had arrived, and maybe they planted the idea of leaving his miserable home with the promise of adventure. Or even just escape? And he could be close to Hylia reborn, just in case? How far did it go? Did Farore tip his senses to that moblin that killed his horse and broke his leg, leading him to a position where he would be wrapping his hands around that same sacred relic until it decided that yes, his service was required?
He furrows his brow at the implications. How far the other way? Was he born to parents who said they loved him, of course they did, but treated him as a problem and inconvenience at every turn so that when a chance to leave presented itself, he was more than ready to take it?
You think you make your own choices, and make your own paths, and it’s a wonderful delusion, but so much is already set before you even put your boots on.
He is reeling. This is too much for one person to deal with. He wordlessly stumbles back to camp, leaving his coffee cup at the mess table. He doesn’t really recall packing his things or fetching Epona. He is in the saddle an hour, letting the mare drift along at her big, ground covering walk when he spots Zelda’s long white coat, trimmed in pink and gold, in sharp contrast to the dark bay horse she rides. She is flanked by royal guards and appears lost in her own thoughts.
That’s who he needs to talk to.
“Your Majesty.” He is slightly breathless as he rides up to her. “I seek your wisdom.”
“And what do you need, sir?”
He pauses, glancing at the cadre of guards she has in her orbit. “Privacy,” he says. “I would like to make this inquiry in private.”
Her blue eyes look deeply into him and she cocks her head a little. She turns to her guards. “You are dismissed. I will be safe with the Hero of Hyrule.” The guards peel off and when they are relatively alone, she whispers to him. “Link, what do you need?”
“I need to talk about what being chosen by Farore means. You are better educated on this.”
He pours out his revelations to her, ending by asking her where the story ends and he begins. The story he had told himself about himself is a lie, and he is coming around to that concept. He is not ready for this layer, the one that suggested he was merely along for a ride, a tool, and maybe nothing more. This is still new to him; she grew up with these ideas, right?
She moves her reins into her right hand, and stretches her left to him. “Take it,” she whispers. He gathers his reins in his left hand and offers his right to her. There’s a small jolt on contact. He doesn’t think he will ever really get used to that. The back of his hand warms in her grasp.
“Link. It can’t all be preordained, or there’s no reason to go forward. Maybe we make fewer conscious choices than we understand, but I believe we bring things to this table that matter. We are not machines, designed for a singular purpose. Otherwise, there is no point.”
“Zelda. Are you a conscious choice? Are we? This thing between us?”
She is silent for a long time. Her grip slowly tightens on his. It might be painful if they were both not wearing gloves. “This is real, Link. I don’t know what it is yet. I’m not ready to give it a name. But. Real.” She turns her head to better catch his eye. He meets her and realizes he is ready to drown in her gaze.
He bites his tongue against what he wants to say next. She isn’t ready to hear it. Instead, he squeezes her hand back and says, “Thank you, Zelda.” He can own this piece of himself, at least. He lets her go.
“Link, when we stop for the night, maybe we can have dinner. Or maybe go for a walk after?”
“Of course, Zelda.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It’s been two days on the road, and there’s at least another two to go. A couple of advance riders have been sent ahead to prepare for the royal party, but otherwise it’s the same frustrating slow going for Link.He and Zelda manage to carve out time, here and there. They have dinner in private one night, and that is nice. Roast cucco with potatoes, white wine from Kakariko - maybe, he doesn’t recall. It’s nice to have what is, on the surface, such a completely normal experience, even if he didn’t do the cooking this time and he is opposite the Queen of Hyrule, instead of a reference librarian or a shopkeeper. Afterward they make rounds on the camp, her arm on his, and if Impa raises her eyebrow at him, that is the only comment she makes. He takes care to be formal in the open. Maybe more formal than before.He seeks Impa out for sparring in the mornings and thank the Three, she doesn’t ask questions about Zelda.. He makes sure to stay focused during these sessions with her, so he cannot be called out for being distracted. He can do more than one thing at a time, he reminds himself. He is better at setting her back, though sometimes she still surprises him.Most of the day is spent in the saddle, and he mostly keeps to the back half, where he has been the entire ride. Sometimes Impa joins him and sometimes she rides with Zelda. On this particular day, though, they ride together, swapping stories about horses. “I tried to get my pony to swim when I was a kid. I didn’t want to ruin a leather tack in the water, because of my dad, so I spent so much time trying to get a bit on a rope halter. And then she just dumped me as soon as it got deep and ran back to the barn anyway.” He shakes his head. “Fancy was a humbling experience at times.”“It must have been humbling to have a pony named Fancy.”“What!? It suited her. She was fancy. Her coloring was outrageous. Roan on bay with appaloosa spots on her bum. I have no idea where she came from to look like that. Oh, she was a good pony.”Impa laughs. “I didn’t learn riding until I was in the service of the Royal Family. I cannot say I have had the relationships with horses you seem to enjoy.”“Horses are great,” he says, scanning the road. “They take you all sorts of places you don’t expect, literally and figuratively.”Epona turns her head to the left suddenly and her ears flick forward. Reflexively, his gaze follows whatever has drawn hers. He studies the area and sees nothing, but the mare tenses and drifts to the right a little. She quickens her pace to a jog and Impa’s horse follows.“What’s that about?” asks Impa. “Horses certainly are great.”“Something scary I can’t see.” Epona seems to relax again. “I’m going to circle back and see if I can’t find what was bothering her. I’d like to make sure it was nothing.”“I’ll join you, then.”They wheel the horses around and head back down the road for a few minutes. Everything seems fine in that direction. When they turn back, Impa’s horse stops and raises its head off to the left with a snort. Epona seems more relaxed, but focuses on the same far off point. “Easy, easy,” mutters Link. This feels like trouble. He stands in his stirrups to try and get a better vantage. There is still nothing... no, wait. Motion, just a little. Dust picked up by the wind, maybe. Northwestern Hyrule is cold and dry; it’s common for the wind to pick up loose top soil and spin it a bit. It occurs to him that the air is still this morning, and the dust cloud seems to be moving toward them. He keeps an eye on the motion and reaches back into his head, but there’s nothing.And then there’s a faint hum and a vibration along his spine as the sword takes notice. “Impa. Maybe that is nothing, but maybe it’s not. Hang on, we are going back. Fast.” He clicks to Epona and reins her head back toward the main party before pressing her with his heels. She launches forward at a gallop, Impa close behind. They catch the back of the party quickly and Link rides up on the rear guard, breathlessly explains there’s trouble and they should move, fast, now .The guard opens his mouth to reply, but then his eyes flick over Link’s shoulder. Link cocks his head as the guard’s expression changes, eyes widening and mouth dropping open, color draining from his face. He twists in his saddle to look behind him, and galloping up the trail is a nightmare on horseback.The horse is coal black, and sparks strike up as its hooves hit the ground. The rider seems human with red hair, and what he had thought was dust is some purple black aura, and there’s the smell of twisted magic in the air.He turns Epona on her haunches to face this, aware that he and Impa stand alone between whatever this is and his party. The black horse slides to a stop.
Where’s your dance partner, Chosen of Farore? Don’t tell me you brought this other one again?
Link sees Impa shift in the saddle from the corner of his vision. “Impa, go to Zelda and keep her safe.” He takes his reins in his left hand and reaches over his right shoulder to take the sword’s hilt as she turns her horse and gallops up the road. He has never fought on horse before, not really; it wasn’t a skill he ever needed to hone. He wasn’t built to joust, and there were only so many things one could learn to do well. He hopes he will be ok. He puts his heels to Epona and she half rears and bounces forward to engage. She covers the distance to the black horse in four or five strides before Link pulls her to a stop.
Oh, he is as big as dad. Maybe bigger.
He definitely seems human, at least. Or maybe he started out that way. He is taller and broader than Link. And younger. Maybe mid-twenties. Link thinks he remembers what twenty-five felt like, thinks he recalls the fire he’d felt then. He certainly sees it in his opposition's dark eyes. The twisted sweetness of dark magic roils off him, and the temperature drops a few degrees. The horse is hard to look at, not right in ways he doesn’t quite grasp. It seems to shift its shape, parts smearing out of view and back again. And there’s the sword. Blackened steel folded with magic, blade a series of zig zags instead of a beveled edge, same oddly flipped crossguard. He bets the sword is trouble.“Are you Ganondorf?”“Not exactly.” It's the voice he’s been hearing. Smoke and silk. The horse-that’s-not-a-horse shifts.“Are you Demise?”“I struck a deal with Demise, Hylian Hero. You can call me Damian.”The sword in his right hand is nearly vibrating. The back of his hand burns. He tightens his grip on the hilt and clenches his teeth. His enemy has named himself, at least. Epona stirs under him, but holds her ground. Link keeps eye contact.“I don’t need you, Hero. I am here to claim that crone currently embodying the Goddess. I will need her when I claim her throne and take my rule over these lands. Part of her, at least.”Something small and cold blooms in Link’s gut. He rolls the shoulder of his sword arm back.“You can step aside or I can go through you. I’ve been watching you and you don’t seem like much, old man. Though I think that blade is pretty, I’ll take that as a souvenir.”Link barks out a laugh. It comes out of the depths in the back of his head, someone else laughing.“Well, then, youngster, come take it.” Oh, how he had hated being called a youngster when he was training. Hated it. He raises the sword and puts his heels to Epona. She surges forward.The black horse surges too, maybe partially dissolving into smears of purple black. Link’s swing is blocked by the obsidian blade. He is clumsy with a sword on horseback. Something to stab with would be better. He adjusts his grip and tries jabbing forward instead of a swing. He manages to get under Damian’s weapon and feels flesh give at the point, but his moment of satisfaction breaks when the other man’s sword comes down on the Master Sword, close to the hilt. Damian meets his eyes, pushes him back, and then quickly takes another swing and lays a strike across Link’s right thigh.He is reminded of the drool on the big spider in the Forest Temple. He is momentarily blind with pain, barely hanging onto his seat as Epona whirls away. He takes a look and it's as bad as he fears, blood, and ...smoke? He wonders if he smells himself cooking.There’s no time to deal with this. That black horse is moving forward - are its eyes red? He swings wildly and manages to connect, this time the blade giving the thrum he knows means a hit.They back off and circle each other. His right thigh is on fire and he struggles to stay on top of it, forcing his focus to hide the pain. “You don’t need to be part of this, Hero. You can go. I just need her.”“You’re going to need to go through me for that.” Just push through, keep pushing .“As you wish, Hero.”The black horse leaps forward in a rush. Link spins Epona on her hindquarter, dodging the black sword. He hears it swing past his ear, but it strikes nothing. Link twists in his saddle, taking a swing at Damian back. It’s a good, solid hit, one he feels all the way up his arm. The sword sends a vibration through him, as well. He pushes Epona forward and swings again, landing another blow. Three quick strides, and he puts Epona in front of the black horse and squares off again. Link is panting as he stares his opponent down. There’s a throb in his thigh, and he can feel the blood soaking his trousers. He still smells the burn. Despite the cold air, sweat trickles down his neck. He digs in for the next round. Just push through. Damian snarls and then gasps and pulls back, and there’s an arrow shaft in his right pectoral. It's not made of anything Link has ever seen before. No, he has seen something like this before.It's a light arrow, it has to be.Damian puts a hand over the arrow. It seems that was a worse injury than anything he’d managed to do.“This is not over, Chosen of Farore.” Purple-black smoke swirls and he’s gone, leaving the reek of twisted magic behind.Link turns in his saddle and spots her, bow still drawn. He thinks maybe she’s met his eyes, but the wound on his thigh flares, making him grit his teeth. He turns Epona back up the road and clucks go, grabbing a fistful of mane as she bolts back toward the group.Camp is in turmoil that night. He swallows a dose of red potion on the run when the medic decides the wound is partially infused with dark magic. There is a new, wide scar across his thigh. He is still drained when they stop to set up a modified camp with a tighter footprint and guards around the entire perimeter. The medic insists he spend the night in the infirmary tent, and as he is settling down, Zelda enters.“I heard you were hurt.”“Magic sword,” he replies.She takes a seat on the cot next to his, and takes his hand. “You were right to make me practice. I was much more confident about taking that shot without putting it in your back.” She smiles.He returns it. “You’re welcome.”“I'm going to stay here tonight. The guard captain wants to leave a decoy in my tent, so Impa will be there.”“I think it's going to be quiet tonight.”“I agree. Precautions.”They sit quietly, hand in hand. “We did run him off,” she finally says.“That was just a test, I think. He’s feeling us out.”Silence. He idly runs his thumb across hers. “He doesn’t know everything. I fight better on the ground. Swords are clumsy on horses. Plus, we were not really a team today. He will face us together when it’s time.” He brings her hand up and presses his lips to it. “Together.”She smiles and he returns it. “Thank you for staying, Zelda.”“Go to sleep, Link.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The road slowly widens from a couple of ruts in the ground to cobblestone. When he sees the arch declaring the entrance to Wolfpeak, he gives Epona her head and stretches his legs out a bit. It has been a slow ride. Impa rode with him for most of it, managing to trade her chestnut horse for something a little bigger and calmer. The stitches had been removed from her forehead yesterday, though the scar is still pink and angry looking. She seems otherwise recovered. He is feeling more vigilant after the skirmish on the road, and it is wearing on him.
“It’s going to be nice to have a real roof overhead.”
He makes a sound of agreement. “I hope our friend doesn’t decide to try larger targets while we are here. Or ever, frankly.”
Impa suddenly goes quiet. It’s long enough that he turns to her. She normally seems to bubble under her skin, and that is silent, too. “Everything ok?”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” she says softly.
“You are now, though. I’m sorry, I didn’t.” He reaches out to touch her shoulder. “We can go talk or something, if you want.”
“Maybe let’s just stop for a minute.” She reaches up and rubs at her scar.
“There’s a little area just outside the arch, that’s probably good.” They both turn back and head for the spot.
Impa sighs. “I’m not used to this sort of threat. It was very personal.”
“It doesn’t really go away, but it gets quieter,” he offers. “Most of the time. I don’t know what the accommodations are going to be, but I’ll stay with you.”
They sit on their mounts in silence for several minutes before she says, “I would like that.”
“You helped me a lot.”
She turns to meet his eyes and half smiles. “Well, then.” her tone is lighter. It’s almost her, even if it is just a good facade. “I think we are working through dinner tonight?”
He follows her lead. “The sooner we figure out these stones, the better.”
The castle entourage ends up taking over Wolfpeak’s larger inn. Link, Impa and Zelda meet in a private dining room of the inn that has been quickly converted into a remote war room. Impa tacks a diagram on one wall of the five stones laid out into a shape Zelda calls a
trapezoid
but to Link looks like a rectangle with a top that is too short. There are two stones marking the top, and three below. There’s considerable debate about measurements between the stones. Impa thinks these are rigid. Zelda thinks as long as proportions are maintained, the portal could be as large or small as desired. Link has no opinion. He sees his role as one of action and thinks they are both smarter than him, anyway.
It’s late when Zelda dismisses them both, with plans to head to the snowfield for experiments the following day. Impa manages a small, private space to herself, while Link is to bunk with most of the royal guard. He goes to sleep in her bed, back to back in the narrow space instead. She is up before him in the morning, saving him a cup of coffee.
The morning is cold, but clear and sunny, at least. Link is layered in his tunic and cloak, hood pulled over his head. He suspects he is in for a lot of standing and keeping watch while Zelda and Impa go over things.
They place the stones in the odd, not-really-a-rectangle formation Zelda has shown them, taking care to put them in the right order and the right distance apart, at Impa’s insistence. Zelda stands at the longer side when it’s done and reaches her hand out, the Triforce on the back of it glowing.
“Oh,” her voice is soft. “I can feel it.”
Link keeps a respectful distance with Impa, but he can still smell magic, and the air seems to crackle with it. “Can you open it?”
“Let me try.”
She reaches with both hands, slightly bowing her head, eyes closed to concentrate. Link shifts his feet and watches, hoping it will just spin open and they will be done in this cold wasteland. He hears Impa catch her breath and hold it. The hair on the back of his neck raises, and the air seems to thicken as Zelda slowly tilts her head and pushes her hands forward a little more. There’s potential. He can feel it, but it’s just potential.
After several minutes, she drops her hands and looks up, frowning. “Hm. Something is not quite right. Let me try again.”
This time, she steps into the rectangle. This time, he can almost feel the weight of whatever she is trying to call around him. There’s color at the edges of his vision he can’t quite identify. Whatever she is doing this time seems better, but it still isn’t quite there.
She spends the rest of the afternoon trying variations on conjuring the portal. She stands inside the rectangle for some. Others she steps outside, and takes different positions on the perimeter. She consults Impa and they compare what is laid out on the ground to a copy of the diagram of the stones’ layout. He tracks the sun across the sky and calls for a stop as it starts to sink.
Zelda turns to him, looking annoyed.
She would stay all night,
he thinks.
“Zelda, you can try tomorrow. If I bring you back with frostbite, your guard captain will never let me near you again.”
“It wants to work. I can feel it. I just don’t know what’s missing.”
He crosses the distance to her. “Tomorrow. We should both rest and get some dinner. But we also need to go; I don’t want to be stuck after dark.”
Impa places a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want to be caught after dark, either. Tomorrow.”
Zelda finally agrees. They pack the stones up and head back to Wolfpeak, splitting up at the inn. Link and Impa head to dinner in the common room at the inn. They sit in silence, waiting for their meals to arrive.
“There’s something there, certainly,” he finally says. “She called so much... power? I don’t know what it was, but I felt it. But nothing happened that I could see.”
“I felt it, too.”
“She says it wants to happen.”
“Try and hope tomorrow, then.”
He nods, and they eat in silence. Link tries not to project the
what if it doesn’t work
running in his mind into it.
He spends another night with Impa. She startles him awake once, whispering “It's really you, it’s just you.” in his ear as she comes out of a nightmare. She doesn’t settle back to sleep after that, or at least he doesn’t think so as he spoons up with her. She is gone in the morning again, and he takes his time rising. He takes a quiet assessment of his body in the morning - his back isn’t bad, and his left leg is pretty tolerable for the moment. Maybe Zelda has figured out the details she missed yesterday. He can hope.
They are back on the snowfield resetting the stones by mid morning. Zelda is outwardly calm, as always, but she fusses with her mount’s mouth, and her quiet seems to simmer somehow. This time she carefully looks at the pattern and slowly walks the perimeter, checking its every line. Impa stands to the side with him. Zelda insisted on setting the stones herself this time.
“I’ve been looking at this wrong,” she suddenly says. She doesn’t seem to be addressing anyone. Then, louder, “I’ve been looking at it wrong. Link.” She whirls to face him. “I need you to come closer. It won’t work without you.”
“What?” He wishes he would have something clever to say when she suddenly addresses him like this. He hopes at least he looks smarter than he feels. Impa gives him a tiny shove toward her.
Zelda beckons him with a hand, a little impatiently. “Come here. You’ve been saying it. The base of the triangle needs to be together. This doesn’t work without you.”
He isn’t sure what she wants, but he steps forward to her side.
“Look.” She points to the stones on the ground. “It’s not a trapezoid, Link. It’s two triangles. They share that center point. It’s the base of the Triforce.”
He only sees five stones on the ground, and in his head, the lines he draws between them make a single, continuous shape.
“It’s like this.” She steps away and uses her heel to drag a line from the garnet at the top of the figure to the opal serving as the central stone on the lower line. Then she draws another line from the opal back up to the amythest at the upper line. “It’s two triangles. It’s not one shape. It felt the most right yesterday when I stood inside, but it was missing you.” She leads him to the right of the opal, and stands him inside the triangle she has partially drawn for him. “Stay here.”
He stands and hopes whatever she is about to do works. He glances back to Impa, who raises her eyebrows. Something warps the air around him as he stands inside the stones. Power, potential wanting to be something else. When she steps into the triangle on the left, it’s a physical weight on his shoulders - and a small, soft groan is torn from him.
She heard it. “Link. You’re okay.” It’s not a question. He glances toward her. There is an intensity rolling off her, dragging at him like an undertow. There’s fire in those blue eyes. She knows who she is, he thinks. She owns her power, whatever it is. And then there’s that sweetness in the air, so heady this time he can taste it. Magic swirls and crackles. He forces himself to stay on his feet as the air between and in front of them splits open, revealing a darkness torn in their reality. He doesn’t know if he is looking into Lorule, or the Twilight, and maybe they are the same, anyway, did it matter?
Somewhere in the distance he hears her voice -
that’s it Link, that’s the portal
- and he isn’t really sure if he hears her or she is speaking directly in his head. His head swims and he thinks his nose is bleeding; how is he supposed to fight when he feels like this? He staggers out of his triangle, and the portal collapses as he drops his hands to his knees and tries to sort out what has happened. His stomach rolls, threatening to spill his breakfast onto the snow and he swallows hard, biting his tongue to keep it.
She spreads her hand out between his shoulder blades, and this time her voice
is
in his ear. He knows because he can feel her breath on him. “It works. Link, it
works
.” She sounds giddy.
“Zelda.” He still has his eyes closed, and he can still taste magic. “I can’t. I can’t even stand up in that.”
“You will, though. We just need to practice. Someone once told me it was good to practice new skills.” He thinks he can hear her smile as she says it.
He slumps his shoulders. It’s going to be a long day. Somewhere, Impa laughs.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They spend a week on the snowfield, Zelda opening a portal and Link trying to not lose himself in the onslaught of her doing so. He goes back to his own bed after the first day with a bloodshot eye in addition to a nosebleed, and finds odd bruising on his body the next morning. He feels almost hungover on top of it. The sunlight streaming into the room is blinding and he decides he prefers the honesty of steel. Even if there is magic folded into it.Impa meets him each morning with coffee. They stick to small talk in the mornings, avoiding discussion of their afternoons on the snowfield. By the end of the week, he can stand and think about swinging a blade, but he is not ready to spar under the new conditions yet. Zelda’s control and power have grown each day. He wonders how necessary he is. Zelda decides it is time to return to the castle, and test her new abilities under different conditions. Some afternoons, and a couple nights, they open portals on their way home. Each time, she easily wields her power and each time, it’s marginally easier for Link to hold his ground and try to swing his sword. Impa stands in as their nemesis during these sessions, and she disarms him with ease. How much time did they have, he muses. If using this portal was required, it was going to be much harder than the run-ins they’d had already. He has dinner with Zelda one night on the way home, though his head is bothering him and he feels every minute he has been alive in his soul. He excuses himself early, apologizing for being poor company, and she takes his hands and says, “You should stop fighting yourself out there. It's easier if you just let it in.”He cocks an eyebrow at her.“You won’t get lost in the portal magic. I won’t let you. Concentrate on dancing with your sword, like you already know how to do. I won’t let you fall.”He has been sleeping alone on the way home, though he and Impa tend to camp close by. On this night, he brings this revelation to Impa and asks for her thoughts.“She’d be the best person to ask about how to work in it, Link. I’d try to do what she suggests.”“I am still used to doing things on my own. It's odd to remember there are people who, I don’t know, are on my team?”Impa laughs. “Aren’t you courting her? Why would she not be on your team?”“That word seems a little... formal? I always thought it was for a person you intend to marry and I don’t think I am ever really going to do that. I don’t know." He scratches his head. “I never put a name on other relationships, they just were what they were. They ended when I was told to go somewhere else. It was never courting.”“I think it is now, “ says Impa, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t be afraid of the word. It doesn’t mean you end at an altar, either. See where it goes and don’t worry about it. Let it in.” She pauses and grins. “Maybe she didn’t just mean magic.”He lies down with more than one thing to puzzle over that night.Later, he bolts up from his bedroll, clapping a hand over his mouth as he screams himself awake. His heart pounds. He can feel his pulse in his neck. His breathing is ragged and fast. His gut still clenches and he has a moment where he feels he might vomit.Oh, no. Definitely going to vomit.He throws himself out of his small tent and scrabbles to get behind it and away from camp before emptying his stomach in a steaming mess. He leans doubled over, hands on his knees, panting and waiting for his belly to settle down. It does eventually, and he is left shivering. Taking a deep breath, he heads back to his tent, sweat freezing on his skin.“Link? Are you alright?”He looks up and sighs. Impa.“No.”“I brought you some water.” She offers him a cup. He takes it and swishes some of it in his mouth, spitting it off to the side to get rid of the metallic taste. “Thank you, Impa.”“Are we going back to your tent, or mine?”“Mine, I suppose.”She nods and a few moments later they are huddled together in his tent. It’s not really meant for two, so they lay on their sides. Impa props her head up with one hand, and slides the other over his chest. He can feel her warmth through his thin undershirt and he settles up against her.“Do you want to talk about it?”“Just another nightmare.”“Just?”“It was a bad one.” He tries to piece the dream together as best he can. “I was in some kind of trial? I think Zelda was missing and I had to do something to prove I was worthy of saving her. You were sort of there, too. You were with Zelda, I think, but I think you also sent me on this trial? I don’t know. There were monsters that could kill me in one strike and I ran into one.”They sit in the dark in silence. Impa is motionless, pressed against his back, an arm across his chest. She is just there, offering support as he sorts out his feelings.“I think it was a memory more than a dream. I think it was another Link,” he finally offers. “Zelda was in danger and no one knew where she was and I think you were with her too, somehow. I don’t know.”“Did you beat the trial?”He shakes his head. “Oh goddesses, no, I definitely did not do that.”It’s quiet again in the one-man tent. Impa leans into him a bit more and he finally drops his shoulders. “Impa?” His voice is soft and worried. “What if I’m not worthy?”Her grip on him tightens and her reply is right in his ear, her breath on his cheek. “Turn around and look at me.”Obediently, he rolls to face her. She takes his bicep in her hand, her grip firm. Her red eyes bear into him. “You have already proven your worth.”He simply nods, afraid that if he speaks, his voice will break, and he had enough emotions tonight.“You said you thought this might be an echo of another Link. If so, then he must have proven his worth as well, because we are here together now.” She pulls him into an embrace, whispering, “I love you, my brave friend. I hope you know that.”He swallows and slips an arm around her, crushing her to him. “Thank you, Impa.”“Let’s get you back to sleep.” She shifts to her back, stretching an arm out to offer him space next to her. He accepts, curling against her, resting his head on her shoulder. She wraps her arm across his shoulders as he pulls a blanket up over them.“You're safe here,” she whispers. “You are worthy. You are loved. Never forget those things.” They are a night away from Hyrule castle when he finally decides to just breathe in as the portal crackles open, and let it wash over him, trying to not think of the weight of the air around him, but his grip on the sword, and that’s the night he finally disarms Impa. Castletown is nearly a different place when they finally arrive. It’s become commonplace to see a moblin in the countryside, and there are enough to make people nervous. There are even whispers of Lynel sightings. Every little settlement in the area seems to have picked up and moved inside the walls. New people arrive every day. Link notes that the various merchants have less inventory, and what they have is more expensive than he recalls. There are hastily built shelters in the green spaces and parks, and he sees what seems to be a communal dining hall. Zelda’s oldest, Marran, has been very busy while they were away. Link picks up his pace to head back to his room in the castle. There’s a meeting over dinner in Zelda’s private dining room to review the status of the castle. Marran had ordered the construction of the communal facilities once people arrived at the gate, as well as releasing castle stores to try and keep newcomers fed and settled. It’s probably helped, but he is obviously relieved to have his mother home. “There’s one more thing,” he says as he wraps up his report. “I had a group of advisors study reports of monsters as people started showing up at the gates. The little villages that have been destroyed? Eppon apparently had a silver moblin in their square a week before it vanished. There was a lynel outside Tabantha, close enough to shut everything down for a night. It seems there was enough to make people nervous, but not quite enough to flee, until now.”Zelda nods. “Perhaps we can predict where this might happen again, and prevent it. Why don’t you take your team and continue to work on that? We will meet every morning going forward.”Zelda orders the archery field closed to serve as a place to set the portal stones and allow for their continued practice. She places it under round-the-clock guards and gives Link the following day off so she can finish coming up to speed with her governing duties. She promises they will be back at things the day after, early afternoon, every day going forward. She orders the great hall in the castle be set up as a public dining room, as soon as possible, and requests as many members of her court attend dinner with her in the public room in the evenings when it is ready. He spends his day off getting up early to dance in private with the Master Sword, and then takes to the gardens. The roses are out of season as the weather is turning cooler and other flowers take their place. The koi still swim and swirl in the pond and he watches them for a bit.He spends most of the day thinking. He ponders this pattern of monsters. Where had the silver moblin he encountered been going? Had that one been random, or did it have purpose? Had he accidentally made himself known that day? He shifts his focus to his encounters with the Triforce of Power. There was so much magic involved, more than he imagined might be. He wonders what he is teaching this new player. And what has he learned, himself? Damien seems young. Youth can be reckless. It might be at the height of its strength and speed, and unaware of its mortality. It is easy to underestimate youth, when you lean on experience. Youth sees things that experience blinds you to. Link will have to take this threat very seriously. Whatever is before him is unlikely to be anything he is familiar with. If they really can predict where he might strike, that could be turned to their advantage. They could be in place and ready. Maybe. Hyrule is a big place, and Damien seemed to show up wherever and whenever he felt. Link wonders if they could bring him to them, instead. He said he needed Zelda. Did that mean he physically needed Zelda? Maybe they can draw him out with her, the way he came to them in Tabantha. Zelda serving as bait for a trap. Oh. He suddenly doesn’t like that idea. Bait can be stolen.There must be a way to bring the end sensibly. He spends the day walking the gardens, running over options.There must be a way. Life in and around the castle continues to change. Guards are doubled around the walls of Castletown, the great iron gates closed from sunset to sunrise. There is a curfew inside the walls. The great hall is quickly converted to the dining area Zelda asked for, and the kitchens are on duty serving in the evenings. The first night Zelda formally takes a seat at the elevated head table, her introduction is met with applause and cheers. Link finds it a bit overwhelming, but it does seem her presence comforts her people, at least for now. Link and Zelda spend their days on the archery field, where she opens portals and he learns how to fight inside its periphery. He finally brings Impa to a decisive defeat one afternoon, stepping outside his boundary as she calls to stop and breaking the spell Zelda spins. He still feels oddly battered inside that bubble of magic, though it’s almost tolerable and at least the nosebleeds have stopped. Maybe, he thinks, it’s time to bring up the next step. “I think we are done for today,” says Zelda. “That was well done.”He straightens up. “Zelda, I have some ideas. Perhaps the three of us can meet after dinner and discuss it.”She nods. “I hope you’ll join me at dinner then. You can escort me to the hall.”“Of course.” He has hardly seen her since they have been back. There is no time for walks. When she hasn’t been working with him, she has been in meetings, managing the kingdom. She delegated much of the day-to-day of the castle to Marran, but he still seeks her counsel. Link misses the slow and quiet time they had. He regrets not making more of it.He spends more time than he needs getting ready, leaving his hair long, putting a set of blue enameled hoops in his ears and donning a blue tunic he knows matches his eyes. He examines his look in a long mirror, making sure he is perfect before heading to her chambers. He arrives early and as he offers her his arm, she looks him up and down.“You’re very handsome tonight.” She loops her hand in the crook of his elbow and steps to his side. He feels warmth spreading over him, and smiles. “I have missed you. It’s been all work of late.”She returns the smile. There’s a sparkle to her that makes him catch his breath. “I’ve missed you too. At least we have a moment now.”He purposely slows his pace. The castle halls aren’t as nice as the garden and the koi pond, or even the camp on the road. He thought it would be hard to keep the discretion she had asked for, in a large place full of eyes and ears in every corner. It’s not a challenge, he thinks, when you’re hardly together. He stops before entering the hall, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to it, meeting her eyes as he does so. As her presence is announced, he brings her to the head table overlooking the rest of the hall as the throng cheers. At least they still feel good enough to celebrate, he thinks. He heads to a side table on the dias and takes a place next to Impa.“You did well today,” she says, passing him a basket with warm bread. “And you clean up nicely.”“Thanks. I feel like I haven’t seen you since we got back, unless you are trying to fight me.”“It has gotten busier. There’s a lot to do.”“Everything is ok then?” He taps at his own forehead, on the place where her scar is.“It feels safer here. Hopefully we don’t have another traveling road show, I don’t think I’d be up for that.”He nods. “I have some ideas about the next step for after dinner. None involve a road show for you.”“Good. Can we talk about something else? Surely you have some story about a horse.” After dinner, he sits before Zelda and Impa, spinning out his ideas over coffee in the Queen’s office.“We are working under the assumption that this Damien is carrying the curse of Demise this round. He seems to be acting alone, which is interesting. I don’t know if that is just part of being arrogant when you are young and skilled, or if there’s more we don’t know yet. We have run him off twice, though. I don’t think there's a reason we can’t do it for good, but there is a matter of actually doing it. “I think we can try and force him here...”Impa straightens up. “Here? The castle ? With all these people here?”“Well, um, maybe Hyrule Field, outside the grounds proper, but territory we know well. He told me that he needed Zelda. I don’t know what that means. But maybe it means that if she is important in whatever he is going to do, then we can make him come to us, and that gives us an advantage." He hesitates. “Uh, but it also means that we, um, end up setting a trap with, ah, Zelda as bait.”“ Bait ,” says Zelda. “Do you have a plan for what happens if the bait gets snatched without tripping the trap?”“Ahhhhhhh. No.”He wonders why he brought this plan up. The silence draws itself out awkwardly. He feels compelled to plunge on to stop it. “I have another idea. It's also not well fleshed out, but we could go to him. But just Zelda and me, alone.”There is no immediate response to this either. “So. If we know there are warnings to where he will show up - Lynels and silver moblins and all - then maybe we can predict where we could meet him.” No one is stopping him, so he is just going to dump this plan out until someone does. “If it were just two on the roads, we could also travel much faster than any party I’ve been involved in that was more than me. We can stay off main roads where you might be recognized. We could disguise you. The end is just you and I, alone, anyway. Why be a huge, slowly moving target, when we can be small and agile? We just need to look for the monsters. Surely, people report lynels.”“There have been credible reports of lynels in Eldin and Faron recently,” interjects Impa. She is staring into the distance, and he can almost see wheels turning in her head. “I'll look into this more tonight.” She leans back. “It will be nice to have a research project overnight.”“I feel like I’m still bait in this scenario,” says Zelda. “Maybe, but together we are bait and trap.”“Why don't we get Impa’s research and think on this overnight?”Impa pushes back her chair. “On that note, I’ll go see what I can find and leave you two alone. It's a nice evening for a walk or something.” She is out the door and gone while Link is still processing what she’s said.“It is a nice night,” notes Zelda. “We can go on the balcony and look at the stars. Or not.” It's hours later before he gets back to his room. He is warm and a little unraveled, still imagining her hands in his hair and on his chest. The pretense had been simple stargazing on one of her balconies, and they leaned on the railing with a glass of wine, pointing out stars to each other, though the sky over the castle suffers from too much light on the ground, even late at night. When she leaned into him, he slipped his hand to the small of her back and they both quieted, still looking up into the heavens. He closes his eyes and sighs. Let it in. He tilted his head to her ear and whispered “ Skyloft ” before placing a slow line of kisses along her jaw to her mouth. She turns to meet him by the time he gets there, greeting him with soft, slow kisses. Her fingers danced along his collarbone as she slid her hands over his chest, pausing to feel his heart thump. From there, she moved them to his back, and up his shoulders and neck until her fingers werein his hair. His skin still tingles where she touched him. He lightly retraces her path with his own fingers as he gently turns the evening over in his mind. He pushed into her a little, then, aggressively taking her lower lip in his mouth, hands on her waist. When he dropped them to her hips and pulled her against him, she suddenly broke off and turned her head slightly, huffing.“I think I need to stop here. I’m sorry, Link, I just... Not now.”He placed a hand on her cheek, turning her head to him. “Is everything ok?”“Yes. This is just stirring things I didn’t expect. Link.” Her eyes were soft, with partially formed tears now. He isn’t sure what he has done. “Very few know this, but I took a lover after Dozam died.” She stopped for a long moment. “He was a member of the court, but not someone who would have been deemed a proper suitor for me. He did not take well to being kept in secrecy. He thought he could do it, but in the end, he was unhappy and he left. I don’t want that to happen with you.”He pulled her into an embrace. “Is the Hero of Hyrule not a proper suitor for the Queen?” he whispered.He can still feel her chuckle against him. “I suppose you are, but... it’s not really that. Just. I don’t know why this feels hard for me. Can you just hold me?”She rested her forehead on his, curling her fingers in his hair before he whispered, “Yes. I am happy to keep the pace you set. But I’m not this person from your past, Zelda. You aren’t the person you were then, either.”He was unsure how long they stood like that, time seeming to stop for him. Finally, she gave him a last soft kiss and dismissed him.“I’ll see you in the morning, Link. Sleep well.”He settles back onto the single-sized bed in his quarters. Why a single, he wonders. Was the Hero of Hyrule not allowed to bring a friend over for a night? He shifts to find a comfortable spot on the mattress and pulls the blanket over him. He drifts off with the touch of her soft skin and the scent of lilacs on his mind, craving the taste of her lips. In his dreams, they don’t stop.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He is up early the next morning, getting lost in motion as he swings the sword. He moves through his forms with grace and ease, mind almost completely separate from his body. Working alone with the sword has become meditation for him, and he welcomes a chance to be in the moment when there is so much weighing on him.
He is warm and loose when he is done. He quickly cleans up and heads to Zelda’s dining room for a late breakfast and to hear whatever Impa has learned. Zelda is leaning on her forearms, intently taking a report from some captain of the guard as he enters. Impa is taking notes, her brow knitted and her grip on the quill a little tight. Link grabs a mug and fills it with coffee, wondering how long this meeting has been going on. He slips in next to Impa as quietly as he can, meeting her nod of greeting.
“It’s difficult to make a larger town like Eldin’s Bridge vanish quietly overnight, Your Majesty, but that is the word. Fields burned, livestock slaughtered in their barns; a handful of citizens on the edges managed to get out and run. They report several monster types, specifically moblins and lizalfos.”
Link’s gut drops.
Oh
. Things are very different than last night.
“Impa,” Zelda starts. “Where do you think the next strike is due?”
“I was going to say Eldin,” she reports. “But perhaps you should look at Faron, instead. Ordon has seen Lynels and a gold moblin.”
“
Gold
,” Link interejects. “Are those real?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he knows they are real. He can handle a lizalfos, he’d dealt with them before. Gold moblins. Every time he feels he is ready, the path gets harder.
Impa is incredulous. “Are you actually asking that? Yes, it seems they are real.”
“So, we should ride to Ordon in Faron,” he says.
“Yes, and soon. You appear to have a fortnight between a lynel and destruction, and the lynel in northern Faron was two days ago. You should ride out in three days, four maximum, if you intend to head off destruction there.”
He turns his head to catch Zelda’s eye. “Just you and me? Quick and maneuverable?” he asks.
She nods. “This seems the best plan.”
In the end, Zelda orders reconnaissance riders out to Ordon immediately - with pigeons to send back if needed. Plans go into motion for her and Link to ride out together undercover. She calls for one last round with the portal for the afternoon before the stones are packed up. Finally, she orders a meal the night before they leave, with all her advisors, to set final plans in place while she is away. The next few days are full to the brim for him.
He makes time to check in with Impa the following morning, sitting next to her at breakfast and lazing over coffee as the dining room slowly clears.
“Impa, it’s going to be strange to ride out without you. I will miss you.”
She smiles at him. “This part of the story isn’t for me. And I am not ready for whatever you two might be facing.” She shivers and he puts his arm across her shoulders. “I’ll wait for you both here. We will have drinks when you get back.”
He gives her a squeeze, and a quick kiss on her cheek. He waits a few minutes before posing a question to her.
“Impa, how long have you known Zelda?”
Impa shakes off his arm and taps her cheek, thinking. “I’ve been serving as an advisor to her for almost ten years. I came on board a year, maybe two? After the king died.”
“So, were you around, then - um.” He stops and runs a hand through his hair, unsure of the best way to phrase his question. “She was in love with another... ah, after the king?”
It is Impa’s turn to be quiet and consider her words. “I wondered if she would tell you about him. I don’t think she was in love with him, not really. I think she was lonely, and under pressure, and he provided escape. I think she loved that. Maybe she thought that meant she loved him, too. I never really liked him. I don’t think he saw her, but rather the idea of what she might make him mean. He was in the royal guard, a little arrogant. Didn’t like being on the side. I think it ran a year before he asked to be transferred somewhere like Eldin.” She shakes her head. “He made her cry. More than once. Did she tell you his name?”
Link shakes his head.
“He was a Link. It seems there are always one or two in the royal guard. He wasn’t anything like you, though. Dark hair, dark eyes, taller, broader. Much more closed off. He shut me down any time I approached him. I was not unhappy to see him leave. How did he come up?”
“I seem to remind her of him.” He wraps his hand around his mug a little tighter.
“I suppose he was going to come up eventually. She has been closed off to others ever since him, until you dragged yourself back from the Zora’s Domain the way you did. And when you turned on your charm enroute to Gerudo.” She gives him a playful shove.
He gives her a glare. “Impa.”
“And there is yet another thing that is different between you and him: I’ve yet to quash a rumor about you that you started. Thank you for that.”
He grunts, uncomfortable with the idea she has heard anything in the first place.
“Her immediate staff is discreet, but chambermaids are everywhere.” Impa shifts in her seat. “Tread carefully, Hero, and please don’t step on her heart.”
“She sets the pace,” he replies. “I follow her lead. Impa. I love her. I thought I knew what that meant before.”
“You should tell her.”
“She isn’t ready to hear it.”
“Tell her anyway,” Impa whispers. “You only think she isn’t ready.”
It’s only a couple days, he tells himself, but there is so much going on. There is an urgency to things that was not really there before, the reality of
this is running to its end
starting to strike. There was so much time until there was not. The night before they leave is before them in what feels like hours from that morning meeting. Instead of dinner in the great hall; he meets with Zelda, Impa, and a handful of advisors. Marran is to take the reins again while his mother fulfills her sacred duty, so he is there, as well.
These meetings with advisors are always slightly over Link’s head. He never feels exactly sure he understands what is going on, and is never sure he actually needs to. He drinks the wine he is served and attempts to look serious until things begin to break up.
Link is slightly hazy from the wine by the time Marran approaches him. He straightens himself up as the prince makes his way to him, suddenly feeling like he is out of place. He has had a formal introduction to both of Zelda’s sons, but that is all.
“Sir Link, if I may have a word?”
“I am at your service, Your Grace.”
“Forgive me if this is personal, but I feel I need to tell you. I have noticed...” He stops and Link maintains his posture, unsure of exactly what is about to happen. “My mother is lightened by your presence. I am not sure what may have gone on, or is going on, between you, and forgive me if I am overstepping, but - you would have my blessing to court her while you ride out together. If that is what you are doing.”
Link still thinks courting is formal for what they are doing, but he swallows and says thank you to the young man who is entrusting his mother to him.
“Please be careful with her,” Marran pleads. “She is precious to me.”
“To me, as well, Your Grace,” he replies. “I will take care of her.”
He already has plans to meet with her after that last dinner. He is on her balcony, off her parlor, and they are trying to find stars again. They are not trying very hard. He stands behind her, with an arm around her waist, his other hand holding a glass of wine. He’s probably had a little more than he should have tonight. She rests her hands over the one he has around her.
He has been asked to be careful with her, and this is on his mind as he holds her, conscious of how she feels against him, focusing on her warmth and presence to distance himself from the mission they are to embark on in the morning.
He drains his glass, setting it on the side table as she rolls her head against his shoulder, turning her face to him and whispering “Kiss me.” He turns his head to oblige her, savoring how she tastes, and how soft she feels against him. Had she said she felt like a teenager? He doesn’t feel exactly like that. He was sure he had aged past the butterflies and the way one person can be everything, if just for moments. It is good to learn that he hasn’t. When his emotions finally overwhelm him, he breaks off, catching his breath and sliding his hand on her cheek. “Zelda, I need to tell you,”
She places a finger on his lips. “Link. No. You don’t need to.”
He pulls her hand away and meets her eyes, whispering, “But I want to. I love you, Zelda. Whatever happens after tonight, I want you to know this. I love you.”
He bows his head and tilts his chin to look into her eyes, feeling naked before her. She rests a hand on his cheek and strokes his face with her thumb. “Link.” Her voice is soft.
“You don’t have to say it back,” he whispers, though oh, he hopes she does. “Just know I love you.”
She looks into his eyes, and continues to run her thumb on his cheek. She says nothing, but leans into his lips with a sigh, slowly working her mouth against his. He slips his hand to the nape of her neck, drawing her closer.
He is not sure what is before them in Faron, but he knows things will be different once they have ridden through this cycle they are entwined with. But that is tomorrow, he thinks. Tonight he can still curl into her and forget there was ever anything else.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He stays on her balcony later than he should have. It was hard to leave.He stirs slowly awake, in his own room, dawn on him before he is really ready, but he gets dressed. They are riding under a flimsy cover, he thinks, but once they are out of central Hyrule, the plain clothes will likely be enough for them to pass. She still doesn’t carry herself like a commoner; even without the crown she will stand apart. He will keep that in mind as they ride.He escorts Zelda to the stable as the sun rises, carrying both of their packs for the trip. Epona is already out of her stall, tacked and cross-tied, with someone looking her over. He starts to call out when he realizes it's Impa. “Sorry, Link, no coffee this morning. I had to see you two off.” She offers an embrace for each of them before she steps back. “I don’t want to make this drawn-out. Please be careful, both of you. I want you to both come home. Please don’t run off with each other. At least wait until this is over.” The trio share a laugh and Link promises there will be no running.Once they are beyond the gates of the castle, though, Zelda asks, “What if we did run off, though? We could live on the beach on Lurelin.”“Do you want to do that?”She tilts her head, looking through the ears of her dark bay gelding. “I don’t know. I might like to try it.”He snorts. “It is just us, until we get to Ordon. We are just Link and Zelda. We should be passing through places with inns on this route. Safe places for the nights.” He softens his voice. “We can just be Link and Zelda, just two people, at night, if you want. If you don’t, that’s ok. It’s not Lurelin, exactly.”“It’s the same idea, though,” she finishes. “I think I’d like to try that.”He has an urge to fill the silence between them and for once stamps it down. If it’s still important later, he decides, it can wait. “Let’s move on, then. We have a bit to go.” He clucks Epona to a canter, and Zelda quickly follows.The road rolls on uneventfully and they reach their first destination by late afternoon. Size-wise, it’s between Wolfpeak and Tabantha Village. Link isn’t sure of the name, but he spots the hitching rail in front of the inn and points it out to Zelda. He dismounts and ties Epona before helping Zelda down. “Remember,” he murmurs to her, “we are regular people, passing through. Let me get a room. Maybe we can have dinner served there.”She nods, and pulls the hood of her travel cloak up to hide her face.The inn is welcoming and homey. There’s a large hearth with a fire crackling on the left side of the main floor great room. A couple of tables fill the room, and it looks like dinner is being served. Link takes a deep breath and thinks he smells some sort of roast. His mouth waters. There’s a bar at the back of the room, doubling as the office for the inn. He heads toward the bar, Zelda in tow. He is halfway across the room when he hears her stifle a gasp. He turns to see her gaze directed at a portrait hanging over the hearth.A portrait of a young Princess Zelda, looking serene and wise beyond her years. She is seated on her throne, superimposed over the winged crest of Hyrule, Triforce over her head. Link puts an arm across her shoulder to spin her away. “Look down, and don’t speak,” he whispers to her before taking her arm and stepping to the bar.“Hello!” he calls out. “I was wondering if you had a room? We are passing through and my wife isn’t feeling well.”The man behind the bar snaps to attention. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir - let me get you set up and she can get some rest.”Less than an hour later, he has convinced the innkeeper to allow him to get meals (and a stout) sent to the room, and settled the horses for the night. The room is modest, with a double bed, and a side table with a basin and an oil lamp. He notes that there’s just enough floor space for him to stretch out on.“Oh. Oh my.” Zelda is still amused once they are settled for the night. They are both sitting on the bed, the side table pulled over to serve as a dining table. “I was such a skinny thing. Oh, I remember sitting for that. I’d only been married a year or so, and was trying to get pregnant, because that’s where I thought my fate had gone at that point. That had to have been twenty-five years ago - I wonder if that’s been hanging there the whole time.” She looks pointedly at Link. “Where were you then? Twenty-five years. So much has happened.”Twenty-five years is a long time, he thinks. Had he been seventeen? Eighteen? In either case, he was still learning how to swing a sword without getting hurt and trying to figure out who he thought he was. He picks over his dinner.He was definitely not who he was then. “Time passes, people move.”“What do you think your younger self would say, knowing what you do now?” she asks.“Zelda, I still hardly believe this has all happened to me now. I would not have been able to hear this at seventeen. Eighteen. Whatever.” He chuckles. “If someone told eighteen-year-old me I would be sleeping in the same room as Princess Zelda, I’m pretty sure I would have had a very good laugh. And on that note, I’m going to stretch out on the floor, please do not step on me.”“Nonsense,” she commands. “You’ll do no such thing. This bed is for two, and you are sleeping with me.” She places a hand on his knee and he dips his eyes to it. Her voice softens. “We are just Link and Zelda right now. Not the Queen and her Hero.”“Zelda. I do not intend to put pressure on you.”“You’re not. Let’s finish dinner and see what happens.”What ends up happening is she changes into a fairly modest soft pink silk gown while he takes their dishes back to the kitchen. She is already under the duvet when he comes back and she pats the open side of the bed next to her. Amused, he takes off his boots and tunic, blows out the lamp on the side table and slides into bed in trousers and his undershirt. She snuggles herself under his right arm, resting her head on his shoulder. He places his right hand on her ribs and kisses the top of her head.“Do you think we would have liked each other as teenagers?” she asks.He swallows a laugh. “Oh, goddesses. I don’t think you would have liked me as a teenager.”“Why not?”“Looking back? I was a worse wreck and less able to hide it. I am lucky I was pretty; at least people would give me a chance. I am sure we would have clashed, hard.”“You’re still pretty.”He takes his hand off her side to tangle it in her hair.“It's funny - I’ve thought that if I had drawn the sword when I was sixteen, I would have been better equipped for this, but I am starting to think maybe that wasn’t true.”She shifts against him, and he is aware of every little place she touches him doing so. She stretches her arm across his chest to give him a squeeze. As they lay quietly in the dark, he slowly tumbles the events of his life that end with him sharing a bed with the Queen of Hyrule in a no-name inn on the road to Faron province. Her breathing deepens and slows as she relaxes next to him.“Sleep well, Zelda,” he whispers. “I.. I love you.”She doesn’t respond. He closes his eyes and tries to sleep.It’s still dark when he erupts out of the duvet in a panic - scrambling, heart galloping. His hands find her next to him and he wraps himself around her, panting and shaking. She startles awake in his grasp. “Sorry.” His voice is hoarse. “Nightmare. Just a nightmare.” He isn’t sure who he is trying to console. He still clutches her as though he is drowning.“It’s okay, Link. Do you want to talk it out?”“No.” He doesn’t recall very much. Just darkness. A sound that might have been fire, a great, roaring fire, consuming anything before it. And fear, rising in his throat.“Impa said you might have bad dreams.” She twists in his arms, and he loosens up, allowing her to roll to her side and face him.“Impa said.”“She also said you were a good cuddler.”“I guess she would know.” He pauses. “I don’t have feelings like this for Impa. Maybe if things were different-““Link, you do not need to explain every little thing to me. It’s okay, I can see you are close. You’re not her type, anyway. Come here.” She reaches her arms around him, pulling him in and tucking his head under her chin. She strokes his hair. It is more comforting than arousing, and he drifts back to sleep.They ride the next day to the next wide spot in the road with a small inn, though this one doesn’t have her portrait hanging over the hearth. They dine in the common room, holding hands across the table, and quietly watch the few patrons.He wasn’t able to find a table near the hearth in the inn’s common room when they had dinner, and now he feels the chill of the evening nipping his ear tips. His fingers are interlaced with Zelda’s, and her fingertips are cold against his, as well. They sit in silence, passing time before they retire to the room for the night. They are together, though haven’t been together, yet. Not yet. He hopes that might be soon. They have both been cautious. “Chilly tonight,” she notes, breaking their silence. He nods, and finds himself launching into a story. “I knew a woman in Lurelin. Everyone thinks of the warm days there, but when it rains, it’s cold and everyone just huddles together inside. Anyway. She called it sweater weather. This feels like sweater weather.”He goes quiet. He hasn’t thought about Celia in a very long time. While he remembers the heat they shared on cold, grey days, he also remembers the way he failed her. He drops his gaze to his lap, shame creeping over him. Zelda’s hand squeezes his, bringing him back to the inn. “What is it?”“I wasn’t very good to her.”“You were not the man you are now. You shouldn’t punish yourself now for who you used to be.” Her fingers brush his chin, drawing his face up to hers. “Your past brought you here. Acknowledge it, and step forward to who you are now.” She looks deeply into him. It wasn’t that long ago that his first instinct would be to look away, and withdraw into himself. He is trying to be better, to live up to what the goddesses have seen fit to force onto him, so he stares back. The world is a cold, hard place. Colder and harder than he understood. She offers light and softness, even though she sees who he really is. She is a refuge, a safe place to escape his harsh realities. His shame dissipates, replaced by a slow warming in his gut. Impa once lectured him about intimacy. It meant far more, she claimed, than taking a partner to his bed. He thinks he finally understands what she was trying to tell him. He loves her. He has told her that, though she has not repeated it back to him. Yet. Perhaps she will see him as worthy of her if he accepts what she is giving him, now. “I know,” he whispers. “But it’s hard.”She leans across the table and kisses his forehead. “I know.” There’s a moment where she draws a breath as though she intends to add to her thoughts, but she presses her lips to his forehead again, before taking her seat instead. They sit across the table from each other, fingers tangled together, eyes only for each other and the rest of the inn forgotten.“It’s cold in here,” she finally says. “Let’s go to our room and huddle together. Let’s get you warm, hero.”He doesn’t protest the sleeping arrangements, and she doesn’t ask him to leave while she changes, though he does turn his back to give her privacy. She spoons up to him. He slips his arm around her waist, resting his hand on the curve of her belly. He breathes her in. She smells more like vanilla than lilacs tonight and he wonders why. When he whispers I love you to her she places her hand over his and gives it a squeeze.There are no nightmares that night.She wakes him in the morning, leaning into him with slow, light kisses, touching her lips along his jaw and down his neck until he pulls her to him, his mouth over hers, taking his time. Her hand slips under his shirt, and her fingers trailing to the waistband of his trousers, making him shift his hips to try and press deeper into her palm. He sighs, savoring the pleasure in her touch, his own hand finding the swell of her hip when the knock on the door startles them, breaking the mood.“You wanted to be up early, sir.” Link drops his head back against the pillow with a huff. Zelda leans to his ear, her voice soft and musical. “We can pick up when we stop for the night.”“Lay with me tonight, Zelda,” he whispers back. “Please.”She answers him by taking his earlobe in her teeth for just a second before she pushes herself off him. She runs a finger over his lower lip, gazing at him. “Tonight.”The ride to their final stop before Ordon is quiet and pretty. He is almost nervous as he gets the horses put up for the night and gets them a room. It’s the same tickle he had when he last stood before the Master Sword in its pedestal in the Temple of Time, what seemed a hundred years ago. He shakes his head, annoyed with the feeling.They have dinner in the common room again, and sit across from each other holding hands and watching the activity of the inn. One other patron feels the need to comment how cute it is that they still hold hands. Link said nothing to this, but the expression on his face stifles further comment. Zelda chuckles as the man stalks off, and then leans across the table to whisper, “Time for bed, old man.”He nods and stands up. She slips her hand into his and lets him lead her to their room. Once inside, she turns to face him, taking his hands.“Just Link and Zelda?” she asks, softly.He takes her face in his hands. “Just Link and Zelda.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He has spent so much time thinking about this moment. He has thought about it for months, how it might happen, if she might bring him to her bed chamber one afternoon, fresh from rolling in the magic of the portal stones. Maybe she’d steal to his single bed one night, leaving him sweaty and breathless, as they coupled on a too-small mattress. It feels perfect that they are, instead, anonymous, at an inn too small for a name the night they come together. He leans in to meet her, open-mouthed. She steps into his embrace to join him halfway. Her fingers slide down the soft linen of his tunic until she finds his belt. Her fingers hook under the leather and she hauls him up against her, pressing his thigh between her own. He shudders, and flicks his tongue into her mouth. She meets him by sweeping her own tongue against him and he groans against her. Zelda chuckles and dives back to him, aggressively, pressing her lips to his. He lets her take him, desire for her, only for her, it’s only been for her, filling his body and soul.He breaks the kiss, breathlessly staring into the soft blue of her eyes, still cradling her head. He drags the fingers of his right hand gently along her throat and traces her collarbone, starting at that notch in the center and slowly trailing out to her shoulder. He moves lower, lingering over the rise of her breast, spreading his fingers out. He does not break her gaze, even as she tightens her grip on his belt and pushes her pelvis into him with enough vigor he almost takes a step back.He drops both hands to the swell of her hips, digging his fingers in before darting back to bite her lower lip. His lips and tongue dance along the edge of her jaw, tipping her face upwards. A soft sound escapes her when he finds that spot behind her earlobe. He wanders along the side of her neck, her pulse fluttering like the wings of a fairy under his mouth.Her hands vanish from his belt, reappearing at the small of his back, then sliding over the curve of his ass. He has wanted this moment, wanted her, for so long, maybe forever.He wants her to want it, too. He wants to be sure. “Zelda,” he murmurs into her shoulder. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but if we are going to stop, now is the time.”She takes a deep breath, stretching against him. The friction of the layers of clothing between them is nice, but he thinks about how this would feel without that. He is all heat and anticipation, and she must feel him hardening between them.“Zelda.”She stays still, her breath on the back of his neck, hands resting on his rear. She slowly slides her hands over him, finding his cleft and giving him a squeeze. He inhales sharply, closing his eyes, gripping her hips, his face buried at her shoulder. He considers just pushing her up against the wall, as though she is some barmaid who has offered to spend the night with him.And then she whispers, “I want to.”He scoops her up in a fluid motion, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back. She barks out a small sound in surprise, throwing her arms around his neck. He smiles and snatches a kiss from her before crossing the room to set her on the bed. She is giggling at him, her eyes bright and curious. He sits next to her and brings his right knee to his chest, grabbing the heel of his boot and flexing his calf to push it off. He makes direct eye contact with her, shifting his countenance to be overly serious and she rewards him with more laughter. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s very hard to take boots off sexy. I’ve tried. It never works. ““I don’t know.” She runs a finger along his calf and he feels his skin prickle under her touch. “I like watching you.”He pulls his left leg to his chest, repeating the process of pulling while flexing his calf, watching her the whole time. He throws the boot aside. “That good?”“Good,” she murmurs, leaning toward him to touch her forehead to his.“Your turn, though I’ll do the honors.” He dips in to kiss her again. He does not think he will ever tire of how she feels under the press of his lips. The front of her dress is laced closed with a pretty green cord. He pulls her closer without taking his mouth off of hers and sets to work on the knot. It comes free under his fingers and he quickly unlaces her bodice, slipping his hands inside to free her breasts. She is warm and soft in his hands, shivering under his touch. She sighs, tilting her head back to offer him her throat as his fingers brush over her nipples. He slows to roll the pad of his finger over her, teasing her nipple into stiffening for him. He imagines his fingers between her legs, teasing her clit instead. His cock tests the seams of his pants as he imagines how she will taste. She gives a breathy moan and he forces himself to pause and slow.As much as he likes first kisses, he also likes first times. He has long lost count of his first times. There have been first (and sometimes only) times that were frantic and rushed, a race to sate an urge. He has had first times that were slow and gentle, and a few that were awkward. There have been enough that he is confident of his skills with a new partner. He is excited by how she will feel around him, how she will taste, learning what she likes. Does she know what she likes? He wants to please her, show her that he can pleasure her in a way she hasn’t before. The next time she thinks of his name, it won’t be tainted by the guard captain in Eldin. The next time she whispers or shouts Link when she comes it will only be about him, even if he’s not there. But they have all night. He doesn’t need to rush this lesson.He takes his right hand away from her breast to catch the back of her head, trailing teeth and tongue slowly down her neck. He leans over her as he does so, slowly pushing her back against the bed. She lets herself drop back to the mattress as he meanders his way down between her breasts. Her hands are under his tunic, skimming along his abdomen, and he huffs against her skin with pleasure. She finds his belt again, and undoes the buckle before taking a moment to trace the shape of his cock. Her touch is electric and takes his breath from him. She chuckles and presses her hand against him, giving him a firm rub.How had he ever thought she might blush at him?As he anticipates another stroke, her hand is at the back of his head. She takes an experimental handful of his hair, and the tightness on his scalp gets a groan from him this time. She is going to finish him before he starts. Zelda makes an amused sound and guides him to her breast. He takes her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it, feeling it stiffen. Eager, he tries pushing his hand further into her bodice, and hears the purr of a tearing seam. “Hold on,” she whispers, standing up beside the bed to pull the dress over her head. She stands naked, back facing him, shaking off her shoes. He reaches for her, unable to resist the dimpled flesh of her ass. His hands find her hips and he slowly kisses up her spine. He pulls her hair away from the nape of her neck as he works his way up. He curls his other arm around her waist, hand on her soft lower belly, pulling her close against him. It has been too long since he has been with someone. When he was younger and wilder, he loved taut skin and slim waists. As he has aged he finds he prefers softer curves and bodies that have lived. He prefers experience. Maybe it has been even longer for her, but she seems to know her way with another. He is eager to delve deeper into her, to find out what else she knows.He pushes against her, moving his hips in a deliberate circle, delighting in the friction of trousers against his erection.She pushes back against him, giving her hips a roll of their own. Delightful. He can only imagine what it will be like to pin her to the mattress. Or maybe be pinned by her.The latter image makes him huff. She takes his hand off her belly and turns, as though he is spinning her in an erotic waltz. She steps back and drops his hand, letting him take her in.“Oh.” His voice is full of reverence. “You’re beautiful.”She smiles at him as though she knows, and he drops to his knees before her. She stretches a hand out to him, running her fingers under his jaw, tipping his face upward. He lets his eyes flutter shut. When her thumb reaches his lower lip, he takes it in his mouth, lightly biting her, drawing her in. He sucks on her thumb, and when she gasps, he sucks harder.She pulls back suddenly and he looks up at her, licking his lips. He just wants to take her. He wants her now, on the floor of this no-name place with the whole common room listening. Now.He waits. It takes every ounce of restraint he has, but he waits. “Take off your tunic, Hero.” It sounds like an order. Without breaking eye contact, he obediently takes the hem of the tunic, pulling it over his head and throwing it across the room. He likes to carry out her commands. He rests on his heels, cock bulging in his pants, the queen naked in front of him. She takes a step to him, taking his face in her hands again, and pulls him into her abdomen. He is so achingly close to her sex - if he dips just a little lower, he can find out exactly what will make her call his name. He runs his tongue along her midline, drawing it out. She runs her hands through his hair, snatching a handful before he can reach his goal. He takes a deep breath, shaking, half afraid he will just cum in his trousers if he moves. Her grip loosens and he looks up at her, wondering what surprise she has next.“Good,” she whispers. “Up here, hero.”He likes carrying out her orders. He takes her hips in his hands, steadying himself as he runs his tongue from her pubis to her sternum. He stops between her breasts and leisurely drags his hands up her sides. She still has her hands in his hair. Her thumbs trace the outer edges of his ears, and she whispers his name.Link steps into her, squeezing a thigh between hers. She is finally bare and in his hands. He has had to satisfy himself his running his hands over her in silks and velvets, other fine fabric he could not name. The textures were interesting but did not truly give him insight to what was underneath. He is almost unsure what to do, how to touch first, and settles on cupping a breast, taking a nipple in his mouth and brushing his fingers across her other breast as she heaves a sigh. He traces the underside of her breast, and slowly runs a single finger down her body as his tongue rolls over her nipple. He sucks on her as he tangles his fingers in the curls at the apex of her thighs. When he slips a finger between her fold, he finds her wet. She rewards him by taking another handful of his hair. He lets her breast pop out of his mouth, though he still strokes his thumb over her nipple, keeping it at attention. He meets her eyes and slides his hand between her legs, gently massaging the soft tissue hiding her secrets from him. He has never been this hard before.She finally lets his head go, dropping her hands to the small of his back, then drifting to dip her fingers under the waistband of his pants. She grinds herself against his hand. When he slips a finger up into her center, he finds her warm and wet and welcoming.“Your Majesty, you’re in such a state,” he murmurs, exploring her, looking for the place he knows will make her gasp. “Whatever could've caused this?”She bucks up against him with a breathy moan, and grabs his ass as his curious fingers find the places he is seeking. He straightens up to meet her mouth for a kiss without breaking what he’s doing. He strokes her slowly, lightly, adjusting as she moves. He rocks himself against her thigh, trying to relieve his own pressure.“Let’s move this to the bed,” he suggests.He lays down next to her. She spreads her legs for him, letting him tease her more easily. Her own hands find his fly, and she runs a finger along him. “This cannot be comfortable,” she observes. She runs her finger back up his length. He chuckles. “It’s not.”“Then take them off?”He doesn’t wait for another invitation, pulling off his pants and underthings. He lays back next to her, on his side, propped up on his elbow, letting her see all of him, how much he wants her, how badly he needs her.“Goodness, look at you,”“Please no sword jokes.”She raises an eyebrow.“Zelda.”She makes a face. “What fun are you?”“I have heard all of them. Also more fun than you can handle, watch me—oh…”“I can handle more than you know, Link.” She is handling him just fine at the moment. More than fine, really. Her hand is just a little smaller than his. She doesn’t have his calluses. Her grip is just firm enough. She is not shy at all.
At all.
She gives him a slow stroke, running her thumb in a large circle over the head of his cock when she reaches the end. Then she does it again, a little faster. He lets his head drop back and covers his eyes, focused on her hand. She is warm and firm and the only thing that might make it better would be his chu jelly.Then she cups his balls, with her other hand, gently rolling them in her fingers, matching her rhythm on his cock. He jerks in her hands. Her thumb circles his head again, spreading the fluid from his tip. Tension in him rises, he is a bowstring being drawn.“Okay wait wait stop stop.”“Am I doing something wrong?”“Oh no, by the Three, no, you’re doing everything right. It’s. It’s just, ah. It’s been a little while and I’m going to make a mess here. Very soon. That’s all.”She releases him, giggling a little and he smiles back at her.“I have an idea,” he says. “Let’s try this. Kneel with your knees apart, maybe hold the headboard?”She quickly gets to her hands and knees, taking the position he suggests. Seeing her spread and ready threatens to undo him again. He shakes his head to clear it and moves behind her, pulling her into his lap, resting his cock between her cheeks. Zelda looks over her shoulder as he does, and he sees the flash of concern on her face.“It’s ok,” he assures her. “I’m not putting it anywhere you won’t want me to.”“What are you doing, Link?”“This.” He leans against her, pressing his chest to her back, slipping the fingers of his right hand back between her legs, finding that spot that makes her shudder again. When she raises her face up, eyes closed and breaths coming in pants, he plunges two fingers of his other hand inside her, marveling at her heat and just how slick she is and oh, it’s going to be good, so good to be surrounded by her. The sound she makes thrills him as he curls his fingers and he drives ahead, working her to a frenzy. She comes apart around his fingers. He doesn’t stop stroking her. Her cry can probably be heard in the common room and he wonders if he can get her to do it again. He finally stills his hands, catching her around her belly with his left, giving himself a couple strokes with his right.He gently leans her forward a bit and whispers to her, “Did you like that?”When she nods, still panting, he tells her, “We are going to do it again, but like this.”He leans her forward a bit, runs his hand over the curve of her ass and between her legs to find her entrance. He guides the head of his cock in, before burying himself in one quick thrust. She gasps and he groans her name. Her wetness and heat around him is intoxicating - he grips her hips to steady himself before finding a rhythm. She feels almost familiar to him, as though they have been together before. Maybe they have, in another life. He whispers her name again. She leans back into him, and slowly straightens, changing his angle with each thrust. There’s a familiar tension gathering low in his abdomen and he is focused on that when she twists and shoves him off with a hand on his chest.“What…?”He lands on his back and she leans over him, her hands on either side of his shoulders. She swings a leg over his body so her knees rest on either side of his hips. Her smile is a little wicked as she inclines forward to snatch a kiss from him. She guides him back in, and this time the common room must hear him.He puts his hands on her hips as she rolls forward, bringing a gasp out of him. She gives a throaty chuckle and whispers to him, Do you like that, hero?
Yes. Oh yes.
She grabs a handful of his hair at the nape of his neck, pulling hard, and begins to rock. He revels in her: how she smells and tastes, the spark of her touch on his bare skin, the certainty of her weight on chest and pelvis. She whispers his name into his ear until her breaths grow ragged. He rocks his pelvis to meet her strokes, and soon he has that sense of being drawn again. He wraps his arms around her, holding her tight until orgasm releases him and he falls back panting. She whispers his name in his ear. He has never found his name particularly pretty, with its single, harsh syllable, but hearing her say it is like listening to a beautiful melody. They rest, with her on top of him, foreheads touching, his hands at her hips, a handful of the hair at the nape of his neck still in her fist, both of them naked and spent.All is right in Hyrule tonight. How could it be otherwise?
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The morning comes too soon. They are awake before there’s a knock on their door. They ignore the interruption this time, letting the sound of the bed frame answer.
It is early afternoon when they find the cobblestone road that leads to Ordon. They ride in silence, save for the sounds of shod hooves and chittering of insects. As the first outbuildings come into view, Link takes a deep breath, as the bubble he has been existing in the past three days quietly collapses. He feels another chapter - maybe another book - closing behind him.
Zelda breaks the silence. “Queen of Hyrule and her chosen Hero again.”
He nods.
“I think I liked just Zelda and Link,” she says. “I hope there is room for that again.”
“I do, as well.” He closes his hands on his reins, bringing Epona to a halt that Zelda’s mount mimics. “Impa was right to warn us not to run off together. It’s a tempting idea.”
“It is,” she agrees.
They look at each other for a long moment.
“Are you ready?” she asks.
“No. I’ll never really be ready. But let’s do this.”
They ride into town at a walk and are immediately greeted by one of the riders that had been sent before them. “Your Highness, it is good to see you here safe and sound,” the guard captain calls out as Link and Zelda ride into Ordon. “This region has gotten more dangerous with each day.”
“How so?” asks Link.
“I would not have believed it if I had not seen it myself, but there’s a white-maned lynel roaming these woods.”
Link shakes his head. He had been taught lynels were real since his first day as a soldier. Very rare, but very real. It is still easy to think they aren’t.
He has seen too many things he did not think were real in the past year to question this.
“Everyone is staying close to home until it leaves.”
Link and Zelda share a look. “We should get people out of here while there is time,” she murmurs. She directs her attention to the guardsman. “I will be meeting with the mayor of this town as soon as possible. Please find him and send him to me. I will also need to see you and everyone else I sent ahead. You have birds that we can send back to the castle, as well, yes? I will be sending messages within the hour. Where can we set up a home base? I presume this town is large enough for an inn?”
“It is large enough for two, Your Majesty. One even has a suite. I will meet you there - it’s called Two Black Mares - with the mayor and the other guardsmen shortly.” The man turns on his heel and heads back into town.
“Welcome to Ordon, I guess,” says Link. “Let’s go find this inn.”
“Have you ever been here before?”
“Nooooo. Not me, at least.”
The inn is easily found, the great sign of two black horses, presumably mares, in profile, hanging above its entrance. Ordon seems about the size of Wolfpeak, though Link thinks it might be doing a little better than the northern settlement. The inn has a large set of rooms on its second floor that Zelda requisitions as her war room and living space.
Link is a little disappointed to get his own space at the foot of the staircase. After three nights of sharing a bed, he is reluctant to be alone. He tries burying his feelings by telling himself it's for the best. He can block an attack on the stairs.
He tells himself he knew the travel days were temporary. He tells himself that the things that started the day he wrapped his hands about the hilt of the Master Sword are running to their conclusion, and he needs his head focused on that. She asked for discretion. There’s still a sting.
Fine. I don’t have to like it.
There’s no time to think things over. The advance detail guardsmen are back with Cosso, the mayor of Ordon. Link has a chance to drop his pack in his room before following the entourage up the steps to Zelda’s new field office.
Zelda’s suite consists of a common room and a private bedroom. His apartment at the castle is slightly larger, but Zelda makes do. She had already brought a table in, where she sits at the head. She motions him to a place on her right, and seats Cosso across from him.
“I am sorry to be so abrupt, Your Honor, but your holdings are in grave danger. I have reason to believe that Ordon is being targeted by the Curse of Demise. I am sure you have heard that the Hero of Hyrule has risen and claimed the Master Sword…”
Link realizes she is talking about him. He freezes his expression as he tries to decide exactly how he feels hearing this.
The Hero of Hyrule has Risen to Claim the Master Sword.
He is still just Link. It’s still odd to think of himself that way, even if it’s true. Even if he no longer tries to reject it immediately. He sets his jaw and focuses on a point in the center of the table to concentrate on Zelda’s voice. He abruptly realizes he is serving a symbol, and pulls himself a little straighter, a little taller, to look his part for her.
“As soon as we are done here, I will be sending messages back to the castle via pigeon to try and get more guards here immediately. Those guards will assist in the evacuation of as many citizens of Ordon as possible, as soon as possible. I would like to send a group back to the castle tomorrow, in fact, with a pair of the guards that are already here. You will have safe haven in Castletown. I would like to hold a town hall meeting tonight to get that information out.
“If there are no questions, I would like to get started.”
“Your Majesty,” Cosso starts. “I would be remiss if I did not ask what made you think Ordon was being targeted.”
“I have been advised there is a lynel wandering about some of the grazing land on the far outskirts of town. Is that not true?”
“That is true, and we’ve pulled the goats off that area in hopes it will continue on.”
“It isn't a natural phenomenon. Unusual types and sizes of monsters have been on the rise. In particular, they arrive a week or so before places get wiped off the map. Eldin’s Bridge is the latest casualty. We are here in hopes to prevent Ordon from being added to that list.”
She softens her tone. “I understand this is unusual, and sudden. I have seen four communities die literally overnight, in violent and strange ways. There are almost no survivors in all cases. Ordon has a rich history with Hyrule. Legend says that one of heroes of the past called Ordon his home. I cannot allow this place to be lost. Please let us prevent a tragedy.”
There is more back and forth. In the end, birds are released to Hyrule Castle, and two hundred or so citizens of Ordon assemble in their town square to listen to Zelda implore them to gather what is important and irreplaceable to them and be ready to travel in the coming days. There are murmurs of quiet fear in the crowd. There are enough credible sightings of the lynel to make the idea of an attack plausible. Not everyone is convinced. A few voices loudly proclaim they will be staying at their homes.
It is nearly dark when things break up. Link is tired and hungry and ready to drop his hero-of-legend facade. He had stood silently by her side for hours in the square, quietly watching the crowd, taking note of dissenters. Zelda turns to him and drops her voice. “Dinner in my quarters. I’ve already put in orders with the kitchen, it should be waiting.”
He gives a single nod of his head, relieved at the idea of downtime.
Dinner turns out to be braised goat in a savory sauce with mashed potatoes and some sort of greens. Link thinks he tastes goat cheese in the potatoes, as well. There’s a locally brewed beer, lighter than he typically likes, but it compliments the meal well. He falls on his meal with gusto, Zelda watching.
“This is good,” he reports, coming up for air. “It tastes a lot like lamb. I love lamb.”
“It’s amazing watching you eat.”
He stops, mid bite, and looks at her, eyebrows raised.
“You’re very. Enthusiastic.”
“I like to eat. I’m enthusiastic about other things, too.” He puts his fork down. “I’ll miss you tonight.”
She reaches across the table to take his hand.
He forgets, for a little while, why they are having dinner in Ordon. He intertwines his fingers with hers. He could look at her forever. His heart swells and he tells her, “I love you.”
She drops her eyes from his for just a second, but he sees it. “Link.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Why is it hard for you to hear this? You’ve been loved before. Everyone knows you have.”
They sit, fingers interlaced, in silence. He is reminded of a night they went stargazing. He chooses his words with care. He ruined that night stargazing.
“Zelda. I’m not him. I won’t hurt you.” He pauses. “Let me in.”
He doesn’t think he’s ruined it this time. When she leans across the table, she kisses him, soft and full of promise. But she stops and says, “Good night, Link. My head knows you are right, my heart is slow to follow.”
He takes her hand and presses his lips to it. “Good night, Zelda, I love you.”
He heads to his room on the main floor. It’s going to be a long night. He tells himself it shouldn’t matter if she doesn’t say the words. They are just words. Surely, her actions show what she feels, even if she can’t say it. He curses this other Link, wherever he might be. Who had he thought he was to treat her badly?
He is slightly bleary the next morning. His hands are wrapped around a huge mug, sucking down coffee as fast as he can, thankful for cream. Zelda seems better rested and he watches her over his mug as she glides through the common room, projecting serenity and calm, offering her blessings to those who are already packed and ready to head to Castletown with the first pair of riders later that morning.
She finds him, and places a hand on his shoulder before leaning down to his ear. “We need to plan our next move this morning, after the first group sets out. I fear time is growing short.”
He nods, and brings the mug to his lips, imagining the warm liquid inside is somehow her.
It’s a small group, maybe a dozen, including the two recon riders. There are a couple horses, one hitched to a small buckboard, with three or four children huddled in the back. Link and Zelda see them off, assuring safe passage and telling them they will see them at the castle when things are safe. He hopes he is telling the truth.
They watch them head north, and wait until the group is out of sight.
“Well,” says Zelda. “Let’s go inside and figure our next move.”
He nods, again, still tired, and follows her back to the inn, where she takes a seat in the common room.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well.”
She folds her hands in front of her, and frowns slightly. “I hope you didn’t have nightmares?”
He shakes his head. “No. Just didn’t sleep well.”
She is suddenly business. “I know we don’t have many eyewitness reports, but it seems like these attacks start in the center squares of their targets. I think we should bury the portal stones in the square, so they are ready, but hidden.”
“I might hold one back,” he offers. “But mark the place it goes. This way we retain control of it.”
“That seems reasonable.”
“This afternoon’s project then?”
She nods. They sit in silence for a moment. Then, “Link.”
He meets her eyes.
“I hope you were not up late because-“
He cuts her off. “It’s ok, Zelda.”
She stops. He wants to reach out to her and take her hand, but there are too many people filtering through the common room.
“Go take a nap, Link. We can set them later.”
It’s mid-afternoon when he meets her back in the town square, as she marks out where to place the stones. He switches the amethyst he has been holding for the topaz, since that’s the stone that goes in the far corner of his triangle. He hefts it, recalling the anger he felt when he threw it at her feet.
He still wants her to say it, even as he tells himself the words aren’t important. Surely, there is something else he can set his mind to, instead of waiting for things to happen.
“Zelda,” he suddenly says. “I need to go clear my head. I am not good at waiting for things. I’m going to go scout around. I think I need to be alone for a bit.”
“Be careful.”
He is careful, and he takes himself out to where the lynel has been spotted. He hasn’t ever seen one before, but it was the one creature that he had been assured existed when he was training. Silver moblins and dragons might be stories, but lynels were very very real, and very very dangerous.
Fortunately, they were also rare.
He heads to the grazing area where the creature has been seen, reflecting that a year ago, there would have been no way he would have sought out this encounter. After what he has seen, how bad can it be?
After an hour of quiet and slow wandering around the edges of the grazing area, he sees it.
He drops to a squat, stilling himself to watch. It’s such an odd thing, with its huge, horse-like body topped with the torso of a horned monster. It is constantly on high alert, scanning and sniffing, tossing its head and long white mane. Its body is covered in stripes of shades of blue.
The creature patrols in endless circles, dinner plate-sized hooves crushing vegetation beneath them. It has worn a path with its circuits.
There are a lot of strange creatures in Hyrule, and lynels are among the most mysterious. They are fierce and deadly. They attack on detection. Their eyesight is poor, but their hearing acute. They carry weapons. Link can see the distinct shape of an improbable spear on the beast’s back. This one also has a bow. They must make them, but they are only ever seen alone, making rounds in circles like this one.
Is there a place they live and have families, he wonders. Where do they teach each other to make those weapons, and how to fight? What makes them so aggressive? It seems so independent. Why are they associated with trouble for Hyrule? He leans forward a little to better follow its movements.
The lynel abruptly stops, planting its forefeet and whipping its head around to Link’s direction. Link holds his breath and freezes, hoping to blend in with his surroundings and vanish from the beast’s attention. It is oddly like a spooked horse, all coiled tension, but focused instead of panic.
After several long minutes, it resumes its circling. Once it is on the far side of its path, Link slowly stands and slips away, back into the woods and to Ordon. He keeps to himself the rest of the day, wondering if the lynel understands its role in this endless cycle any better than he does.
The next few days are a blur. A group of guards arrive from the castle, on lathered, exhausted horses. They are remounted as more small groups of Ordonians are sent to safety. He hopes they are going to safety, at least.
Soon, it is just him and Zelda, a handful of town leaders refusing to abandon ship, and a half dozen or so who just won’t believe anything is going to happen. They wait to see if Impa’s dire prediction is correct.
He loses count of his days in Ordon. Five? Maybe six? He is pretty sure it’s six. The last of the evacuees had left the afternoon before, and it’s eerily quiet this morning. The day is sunny and warm, at least, as he nurses a cup of coffee on the long covered porch of the inn, watching nothing happen in the town square. Zelda pulls up a chair next to him and takes a seat.
For a long time, they just sit in each other’s company.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you,” she finally says, staring out into the square.
“We’ve both been busy.” It feels good to have her to himself again, more or less.
She murmurs an agreement. There’s another long moment, and they break the silence together.
“I saw the lynel the other day.”
“Do you want to go for a walk?”
They finally look at each other. Her eyes are a little wide. “You saw the lynel?”
“Yes! I can take you to see it. We need to be very quiet, though. And maybe wear something darker colored; that pink and white dress is going to stand out.”
“Give me a moment.”
A couple hours later, he takes her hand to help her up over a fallen log on their path, placing a finger over his lips to indicate they are close. She is in a dark green tunic, pants, and boots she managed to borrow from somewhere. He pulls her close, to whisper right in her ear.
“We are almost there. I’m not taking you as close as I got, but we should still be able to see him. We have to be dead quiet.” He wishes the beast were not nearby. There’s pleasure in just being so close to her, and the woods are such a pretty place to spend time with someone. He pushes this away. Not with a lynel nearby.
He finds a spot at the edge of the tree line, with enough cover for them to hide, but with a clear view of the path worn into open grass. He touches her shoulder and points, and they both settle to wait for it to appear.
Link isn’t sure how much time passes, but it feels like the lynel should have made its way across their vision by now. He rises on his toes and squints.
Zelda shifts and points to another spot where the woods join the clearing. A doe steps out of the cover of the trees, ears flicking, head slowly turning, looking for danger. She steps out further into the grass, looking, listening. Finally satisfied that she is safe, she drops her head to graze. Link holds his breath and looks to the path trampled in the grass.
Nothing
. He lets his breath out and drops his lips to her ear. “We should have seen him by now. He must have moved on. That deer would not be so comfortable if he were here.”
His eyes float over the curve of her cheek and the shape of her ear. Has it been six days, seven? since he got to stand so very close to her. He closes his eyes and inhales her scent. Vanilla, sweat, a little bit of the woods they have wandered through.
He reaches out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. She shifts her head, just a little, as though asking what he is doing.
“Was there really a lynel?” He can barely hear her.
“There was,” he whispers into her ear. He leans closer and gently presses his lips at that spot where her jawline met her ear. He nips the skin and begins to work his way down her neck as she sighs and relaxes into him. She stretches her neck to the side as he slides his teeth and tongue to the hollow of her shoulder, burying his face for a moment.
She stiffens and stifles a gasp. He pauses. That reaction didn’t seem to be for him. He picks his head up a little, as the sword
thrums
through the scabbard on his back.
“Zelda?”
Link hears it, smoke on silk. “Ah. The goddess incarnate and the spirit of her chosen hero. Nice of you to arrive out here together.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He should have known.
He should have known
. That lynel wasn’t just going to wander off. He sees the doe bounding off, tail flagged in alarm. Link straightens up and turns to the voice, face flushed.
Damien isn’t in striking distance. Leaning over his big black sword he is still taller than Link. There is a grin on his face and he seems giddy, amused at catching them. Zelda is staring him down, fury in her eyes. He turns his head to meet her glare.
“Are you fucking your hero yet, Hylia?”
Link’s eyes widen at the question.
Vulgar, so vulgar
. He glances quickly at Zelda, but she seems unfazed, continuing to stare stonily at Damien. Link suddenly smells magic twisting around them, making the hair on the back of his neck rise.
“I said,” Damien speaks loudly and slowly, “are you fucking your hero yet, Hylia? It’s a simple question.”
She stands still, shoulders rising toward her ears, eyebrows lowered, jaw clenched. Link feels her drawing up power. The emotion coming off her isn’t exactly anger, but it seems like a cousin to it.
He turns to Link, after maintaining his gaze with Zelda for a long moment. “And is your goddess good in bed, at least?”
Link still finds it hard to stay afloat in all the magic that surrounds him. The question is shocking to him and he does not feel it deserves an answer. But he feels what he feels, and he gives one, anyway.
“I love her.” He tries to sound confident and sure. He hears Zelda stifle some small sound.
“
You love her.
” Damien laughs.
Link dislikes the tone. His cheeks heat. There’s an inexplicable worm of confusion in his gut, deep down. He does love her, and how is that wrong or shameful?
“Distractions, old man.” The younger man gives his head a sad shake. “That wasn’t the question. Do you know your own history, hero? Do you know how she had you imprisoned and claimed it was to temper you, as though you were some blade to be used? Do you know you died doing her bidding, before she revealed that to you? And then she chained your soul to this cycle? She uses you, hero. You are but a tool before her. When you break, she will just get another. She promises you love, but she cannot deliver it. You will end like the rest, brokenhearted and yearning for what you cannot have. I hope she was a good lay for you. At least you’ll have that. She never loves you back.”
There’s a tiny voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that he has told her his feelings, many times, and she has yet to reciprocate. He closes his eyes and inhales. She must love him back. Her actions speak where her voice is unable. She must.
“See, Chosen of Farore? You already know that in your heart, don’t you?”
He may not know all of his history, but he knows that the first Zelda chose her Link because she knew he would follow her without question. That Link had loved his Zelda. Did she love him back? What did Damien mean about imprisoning? Or chaining his soul to this cycle? He swallows and looks to her for guidance.
“STOP,” hisses Zelda. “I love him. I always have.” She turns to meet Link’s eyes. There is something behind her own he has not seen before. It’s terrible and sacred and he has to breathe deeply before it. The sword on his back vibrates again. Oh, this is really happening.
“Link,” her voice is different, almost multiple voices. “LINK. Know I love you. We are bound, but this is real. I told you that when you sought my counsel.”
He closes his eyes and takes a breath. This is so much more than he imagined.
And then.
Softly, in his ear, the quiet music of her own voice, the one he heard on her balcony, or murmured into his ears during their days enroute to Faron.
“Link. I’m sorry. Have faith in me.”
There’s a bright flash of light that cuts through his closed eyes. He startles, opening them and swings his head toward it in time to see Zelda drawing back on that magical, impractical bow and loosening a light arrow. She follows it quickly with a second and a third. Damien seems surprised and flings himself back to avoid the volley. She turns to Link and says, “Back to Ordon. We need to be near the stones.”
He nods and they dart back into the woods, following the goat trails back to town as quickly as they can. He is full of questions that he isn’t sure he really wants answers to, but their pace is too fast for conversation. He pushes them away desperately. He needs to get away from his doubts, at least for now.
You’re the Hero of Hyrule and chosen by the Sword that Seals the Darkness. You bear the Triforce of Courage, and it is time, finally, to be brave.
Don’t be distracted.
He pushes his stride a little harder, conscious of Zelda at his heels, making sure to keep close to her. He has no idea if they are being followed or how. He isn’t sure if the roar in his ears is really behind him, or just in his head. At some point, he turns to grab her wrist, dragging her along in his wake. He stumbles, sprawling onto his chest and pulling her down with him. She plants her hand on his back, pushing herself up before reaching out to help him up.
“Please tell me you have that topaz, Link. On you, right now.”
He nods, patting the pocket of his trousers.
“Let's go, he could already be there.”
“Zelda, what did he mean about prison? Is that true?”
She has been completely in command. Her brow furrows and eyes soften at his question. “Link, we don’t have time right now. I can tell you when we are on the other side of this, I promise.” She touches his cheek with her hand. “You’re not a tool. You’re
not
. And he lies. I need your help so there is an other side. Please.”
He has come this far. He is not who he was in the Temple of Time, wincing under the title of hero. She led him here, reforged him to who he is now. He decides he still trusts her. He never pushed her deeply for his own history, not really, and it’s too late now. He takes her hand off his face, closing it in his own, and turns toward Ordon, heading for the square where they have placed the portal stones.
He is relieved to hear the clack of cobblestone under his boots when they finally arrive and he drops her hand to hastily toss the topaz into place. They take the positions they’ve practiced. He draws the sword and swings that big blue shield forward. He drops his head a little, relaxes his hips and knees, ready to react, clearing his mind, ready. Zelda draws herself up. She isn’t casting yet, but she is also ready.
They wait. The square grows quiet, as though everything holds its breath.
They wait.
The attack does not come. His adrenaline ebbs, heart rate slowing to normal. He straightens up, and turns to Zelda. She is also at ease.
“Wasn’t he behind us?” he asks.
“This is a trap. It has to be.”
“Do you think he is still coming here? What if he has decided to go somewhere else while we are here?”
“He hasn’t left,” she says, flatly. “I can still feel him. He’s here, he’s waiting for us to drop our guard.”
“How long do we wait?”
She shakes her head.
His mind starts wandering. It’s not exploring anything useful. He doesn’t remember being imprisoned, at least not for long. He tries to sort through the pieces and images that came with the sword, but there’s never a direct narrative. It’s just parts.
“Zelda. What did he mean you-Hylia had me-the chosen hero, whatever- imprisoned? Why?”
She huffs a sigh. “This isn’t the time.”
“And what was that about chaining my soul to this cycle, Zelda? Why not now?”
She draws a sharp breath inward, and there is grit to her voice. “I think that story will hurt you. Really hurt you. You have been hurt your entire life, Link, by people who have been careless with you who shouldn’t have, and you seem to have had no idea until recently. I will not be careless with you. You deserve better than what you’ve gotten. I will tell it to you, but not without making sure you’re in a safe place to hear it.” She finally turns to him. “
That
is an expression of love.”
He holds his breath as she speaks. She keeps catching him like this, telling him things he never thought of about himself. He is continually shocked to find she is right. He has nothing to say and just stares at her, feeling like he has finally been seen for everything he is.
“I’m sorry that I have a hard time mustering the words,” she continues, softer. “I know they seem so simple, and you probably need to hear them spoken. You need to hear them spoken a lot. I don’t think you’ve heard it enough and I’m sorry I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I hoped you would just see the truth and that would be enough.” She breathes out and a sad smile crosses her lips. “And right now, saying those words seems cheap. I wish I had just said them before. I didn’t understand how important it was for you to hear them.”
He holds his position, but looks over to her. He wants to take her in his arms, but he holds his place instead. She looks at him and seems a little sad. “I’m sorry,” she says again.
They wait all day. The sun sinks in the west, twilight creeps in, the sky darkens, the moon rises and nothing happens. Link and Zelda retire to chairs on the inn’s porch and sit in silence. He quietly turns her words over in his head when he isn’t wondering why they are being left to stew.
“Is he waiting for midnight? Seems cliche?” Link finally asks, not expecting an answer. “Is he waiting for us to sleep?”
“I don’t know, but he is still out there.”
Link leans forward on his thighs, shifting to get more comfortable. He stares out into the square, noting where the five stones making up the base of the Triforce sit, and he wonders why it’s not the entire Triforce. You’d only need one more stone, he thinks. He slowly turns this idea over. What if there is a sixth stone, and the bearer of the Triforce of Power takes that corner? If he and Zelda open a portal to who knows where, what happens when the third joins in?
He is so far down this road in his head that he doesn’t notice the spoiled sweetness in the air right away. He sees Zelda startle to her feet and rises, sword out before he realizes he’s touched the hilt.
And then it's gone, leaving Link alert and riding a surge of adrenaline. “What was that about?”
Zelda shakes her head and frowns. “There and gone. I’m not sure what he is doing. Playing, almost.”
“Do you think you could sleep out here?” he asks. “Maybe you should try. I’ll stand watch.”
“What about you?”
“At the very beginning of this, it felt like I didn’t really need to sleep. Maybe I can tap back into that. I’ll try, anyway.” He remembers being so tired just the other day, before he’d gone to see the lynel. “There’s still a few people hanging around, aren't there? Maybe get someone to make some food? I don’t know. I don’t know. We can’t both stay up all night, Zelda. We need to take turns or something.”
She crosses her arms and lowers her head for a moment. “I’ll see about sleeping out here. I don’t like splitting up.”
“I don’t either, but you’re just a yell away out here.”
She heads inside. Link flips the blade upward to try and catch his reflection on the steel, but there’s not enough moonlight. He flutters his eyelids closed and huffs, trying to quiet his mind and reach out to the sword. It's been a while since it's spoken to him.
I need to stay awake, how do I do that? I think I was doing it before?
Master, deliberately seeking sleep deprivation is foolish.
But maybe necessary. How?
There is no answer other than a sense of disapproval. Link takes his chair again, and lays the sword across his lap, tracing the Triforce embossed on the blade with a finger and searching for an answer.
Come on, someone must have done it.
His meditation is interrupted by Zelda dragging some bedding out and setting up a spot on the porch. “It seems like everyone left in this town is up tonight,” she comments. “Everyone’s unsettled. I asked for them to brew some coffee, too.”
“Oh, good idea.” He gets up and assumes a relaxed stance that he can hold for a while. It will be easier to stay awake while on his feet. He swings the sword point down between his feet and rests his hands on the hilt, ready to stand watch through the night. Someone-Link isn’t sure who-leaves a couple plates of food for them and a pot of coffee. Link pours himself a mug, sipping it as he stands, looking out over the square and waits. Zelda settles down and seems to fall asleep.
About an hour later, she shrieks from her bedding, and he whips around, sword at the ready. She props herself up on her hands, eyes wide, panting. He crosses the distance between them in three strides and squats down. “What happened?”
“Nightmare. Oh. Nightmare.”
He scoops her into an embrace. “You’re okay now.”
“Oh I don’t think I’m going back to sleep after that.”
“What happened?”
She shakes her head, leaning into him and he folds over her, stroking her hair the way she has done for him. It’s peaceful for nearly a minute and then she stiffens up and he smells twisted magic. He is on his feet, hauling her up with him, sword still in hand. It’s gone almost as soon as it registers, leaving them both abruptly alert. He feels like it’s just floating over a growing weariness in him.
“This is deliberate,” Zelda says. “He is keeping us awake. He is planning on dulling us first.”
“What are we supposed to do, then? We already walked into this.” Frustration bubbles up in him. He should have insisted on laying a trap at the castle. He shakes his head. “What are we supposed to do?”
“Let me think.”
He steps aside to give her some room. It’s easy to start spiraling on his current situation, and spiraling is only going to make things worse. He needs to dig in, he thinks, and find something to settle him. What he finds is that second day they looked out over Hyrule field from that ridge in Tabantha. He finds the three days they traveled to Ordon, happily ignoring destiny and fate in favor of just being two regular people.
“I wish,” he mutters, “we were just Link and Zelda again.”
Zelda turns her head toward him, and raises an eyebrow. “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘I wish we were just Link and Zelda again.’”
She cocks her head and looks forward. “Link and Zelda,” she whispers. “Link and Zelda.”
She stares forward, whispering their names. Link watches her. She draws herself up, suddenly. “We are less ready to accept new things as we get older.”
Her voice shifts again and he isn’t sure if he is hearing another Zelda. Or Hylia herself. Link wonders why he ever thought he was agnostic. She tilts her head, staring out into the square. “We think we know how the world works at some point and that’s the end of it. We just stop seeing that things could be different.”
“You might start your adventure, hero, by waking up one day and thinking things are different for you, without understanding the depth. You still try to trundle along like nothing has changed. Perhaps we’ve both failed to appreciate how different things are for both of us.”
She laughs. It’s a joyful sound that sharply contrasts with Link’s mood.
“I’m guilty of it, too.” She smiles. “I was raised knowing I might be a physical manifestation of a goddess, and I forget who I am because I am used to what I was. I have power I still haven’t thought to tap. So do you.”
“Link.” She turns to face him, and her eyes have that terrible and wonderful thing inside them again. He catches his breath, tightening his hands on the hilt of the sword. A prickle runs through his palms and up his forearms. The back of his right hand warms and tingles. Odd visions bubble in the back of his head, for the first time in a long while - a mirror shatters, and he is swept up in grief over it. He worked so hard to maintain himself and not drown in the floodwaters of the sword’s legacy. Maybe he should have just learned to swim.
“It will be okay, Link. You will still have you. Let them show you.”
He lets his breath out, and it stutters a little. It’s been months since the white water of memories rose in him. He’s been able to keep it controlled, with only bits leaking out here and there. What happens if it swallows him?
You can’t be brave if you’re not scared.
He plunges himself into the mix swirling in his head.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It’s like falling into a crowd, but one larger than he has ever seen in his life, and everyone is vying for his attention. He has to remember to stop struggling to be himself in here. He needs to surrender to the commotion in his own head. It’s hard. He has been himself for more than forty years. It’s a comfortable space for him, it’s what he knows. He is afraid to give it up, but he is afraid to die again, too, and it seems like holding fast to himself ends there.So he falls, and hopes he will be caught.He has fallen before, a long way. She pushed him, thinking he was teasing her when he said he’d lost his loftwing. Just call him, Link. And he did, but the bird never came, and then suddenly there she was rescuing him. He thinks he may have returned the favor at some point, after chasing her down so many strange passageways, with just the sword as a guide, endlessly dogged by... someone, something? Something that seemed to find him an annoyance at first before realizing that he was more formidable than he appeared.He would have gone to the end of the world for her. He had.They never quite match up the same way after that. Sometimes they just don’t, like when he spent half his time as a wolf in some shadow version of the world he knows, pressed into service for her, he supposes, but spending all his time with a different princess who abandoned him in the end and made it so he could not follow.Sometimes their relationship is simply business, like the time he had blurred himself so badly hopping back and forth between the ages of nine and sixteen. But she had helped him on his way, though he had no idea who she was for a long time.Sometimes he is more like a mercenary, though no one actually hires him. He just hears there is a wrong to right and off he goes without much thought. And there are so many times they are ships passing in the night, because there is no need for a hero, so maybe he serves in her army, or as some trusted member of her house staff, or never makes it to the castle to cross her path in the first place.But once in a while, they meet again, and remember what they mean to each other before anything else had seen fit to insert themselves.He doesn’t get caught, exactly. But his fall ends without harm, and the crowd seems to disperse. It’s just him and some other presence. A spokesman of sorts, he decides.“This round wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?” he asks.“The Chosen of Farore is nearly always unaware of his role until it’s thrust upon him. Even then, maybe it’s not obvious for a while. Hylia knows who she is, almost from the moment her mortal form can understand such things. Demise actively seeks their player. But you and I and those like us — we are a secret unless we are needed. There’s usually a Zelda, and there’s a Link shortly after. There isn’t always a Demise, though - their cycle takes longer than ours.”Link isn’t sure who he is speaking with. He isn’t sure he is actually speaking. He thinks it’s the one called the Hero of Time because he seems to shift, sometimes a very small boy, younger than Kobin, and sometimes he’s a teenager, though perhaps one who saw too much, too soon. And every once in a while he’s just a skeletal thing in a horned helmet, missing an eye.“There was no holder of power when you first put your hands on the sword. We saw you, but it wasn’t a time for you to rise. And two years later, there was a child born. And when you were thrown off your horse, the one the moblin killed, that child was making decisions that set him on his path.“And then, about nine months before you last visited the Temple of Time, he made a deal, sealing his fate and yours.”The Hero of Time is just a boy again, but when Link looks into that young face, framed by light blonde hair, the blue eyes looking back at him are unspeakably old, eternal.“He is trying to wear us down. I think I can take him. I know Zelda and I together can. We have run him off twice. But not if we are exhausted. Can you help me, us?”The boy hero turns away from him and sighs. When he turns back, the planes of his face are sharper, and he’s gotten taller, his shoulders broader. He runs a hand through the front of his hair. Link notes he is wearing the hat. He wonders if he wears the same gear this hero does, or if it’s just a replica.“You are more powerful than you know, Chosen of Farore. You always have been. You just need to be open to it.” He meets Link’s eyes. The Hero of Time’s eyes haven’t changed. “It is harder to be open at your age because you think you know how the world is. You need to reject what you think you know. It’s not easy. You already have this in you. You limit yourself needlessly. Embrace who you are.”Link is silent. “Your experience is not a liability. I rushed in and opened the Sacred Realm, letting the enemy in. I claimed the sword before I could use it, and I sat out for seven years while he did his damage. I let that happen. All I saw was finishing the task I’d been given. You pause and you think. You consider your actions. It just makes your journey different.”“I don’t... how do I just... not. Be tired?”The hero before him sighs and shakes his head, seemingly frustrated. “Embrace what you are. You limit yourself. You have already been more when you forget where you think you end.”Link tries to stifle an annoyed huff, and puts his fingers at his temples. The conversation seems circular, and he fights his inclination to ignore the advice he came seeking. It doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t like riddles. He just wants to know what to do. “I don’t understand.”The Hero of Time gazes at him, and those ageless eyes soften for a fraction of a second before that horned helmet flickers over his visage. He is quickly a weary teen again. Link wonders if he has control over how he looks.“Be open. Open yourself. You are more than you think. You might not be divine, but you are blessed. Open the gifts you’ve been given.”Link wants to scream. He inhales deeply instead. He reminds himself he came looking for help. He needs to figure out this advice. He asked for this.And one more thing.“I need to know,” he says, flatly. “Did you love her? Can she…”The young man with the ageless eyes shakes his head. “I hope this answer opens your eyes. I loved another. Zelda is the person. Hylia is divine. The immortal are different from us, and they play different games. Hylia doesn’t understand what you feel and what you want. She might think she does, but she can’t. She can’t. “Zelda is mortal. She serves as a vessel, but there is a person there. Be careful, Chosen of Farore, though maybe you’re already too far down this road. Guard your heart, but know your duty. The former won’t matter if you fail at the latter.”Link considers asking more questions in this vein, but decides to save them for Zelda.“So, just stop being tired.”The teenager whirls on him, suddenly bone and encased in damaged armor. “Embrace what you are.” Whatever has been passing as a voice is eldritch and threatening. “Spirit of the Hero. Holder of the Triforce of Courage. Chosen of Farore and the Master Sword.” He is back to a chubby cheeked boy. He’d be adorable if he didn’t look so haunted. “You have power. Use it. ”The white water throws him back out into the spaces of his own mind and he is... not really alone, he thinks. But it is quieter, and he can breathe again.
Find your power. Embrace what you are.
He needed to figure this out quickly.
Be open.
What is he then? He is not someone who thought everything was fine, even as he left a string of failed relationships behind him, with family, with lovers. Not anymore. He never felt worthy of anyone’s time, not really, though he failed to see it. He had been okay. He thought he had been okay.Everything had been fine.But it never had been. Not really.Not really. He just didn’t know.It wasn’t his fault he was broken, and believed broken was just how things were. He is more than being broken. He knows that now.Every monster he faced, he beat. Even if it left him with scars and nightmares, he still came out of the dungeons. There are people who see him, really see him and not just some version they hoped for. There are people who would come to his rescue and make a place for him, because they care about him. He might be an old dog, but if he could be open to all of this in the past year, maybe there is more to open to.
Embrace what you are.
And what is he now?“I’m the Hero of Hyrule,” he whispers, trying it on, for real, this time. Then, in his normal voice. “I’m the Hero of Hyrule. I bear the Triforce of Courage. I have been chosen by Hylia to serve the Queen with the blood of the goddess.”He says this without flinching or shying away from the words. He is finally worthy of them. There is no going back now. “I am Link, and I am the Hero of Hyrule.”There is power in owning this, he realizes. He feels like more than he has been. Maybe this is what the Hero of Time meant. “I am Link…”And he is plunged back into himself, for a moment aware how bone-weary he is. That old fracture is starting to sing, and his hips think about joining in, and… No . The sword is still in his hand. He swings the blade up to a ready position, narrowing his eyes to focus on a target that’s not there yet.“I am the Hero of Hyrule,” he snarls. “I am blessed by the goddess Hylia herself, Chosen of Farore. And I am ready for you .”The air thickens and curdles with twisted magic. He holds his form, letting it flow through him. He senses more than sees Zelda to his left, her big, impractical bow at the ready.“It’s time, Link,” she says, not taking her eyes off some point in the distance. “It’s finally time.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The flicker at the edge of his vision puts him into motion. He doesn’t think, he just flows, flipping up the big blue shield and turning to his right in time to catch the jagged black blade as it comes down. There’s the sound of steel on steel. He feels the impact in his shoulder and he lets it rock him back, just a little. Link raises his eyes over the edge of the shield to meet Damien’s gaze. The back of his right hand warms, recognizing the being before him.“Nice reflexes, old man,” his adversary sneers, pressing the black sword down on Link’s shield. Link locks eyes on his enemy and pushes back, holding his ground. The back of his right hand continues to heat until it burns. He imagines he can smell it, but maybe that’s just magic. Link’s upper lip twists into a snarl; he is tempted to bare his teeth.Damien meets Link’s stare and smiles, red hair flowing about him like flames. “Nothing to say, old man?”Link does not drop his eyes. He takes in what his adversary is wearing, and where he might be able to slip his blade in between leather and chainmail.And then Damien lightens up on the shield, just a little, giving Link the opening he waited for. He surges forward, pushing the shield ahead of him and to the side, shoving the sword away. The Blade of Evil’s Bane is awake in his grip. The Master Sword finds a small unarmored space above Damien’s hip and bites, though not as deeply as Link hoped for. He hears a hiss of pain and knows he has scored, at least.“I don’t need words,” snarls Link, pulling his blade back. It’s not really blood on the blade. Blood doesn’t smoke like that. He keeps the shield up, his attention on his enemy. He is one with the heroes of the past.
Remember who you are. It’s time to rise.
He had moments in his life before where he felt like he was doing what he was made to do. Small ones, fleeting. He had never seen himself in the moment before. Somehow, every step he has taken brought him to this. Somehow, he is ready. He draws his sword arm back again for another swing. Time slows for him. He moves with purpose and deliberation, confident finally that all the work he has done will see him through this. His opponent telegraphs another blow towards him and he pulls his entire body back to avoid it, the dark steel cutting the air close by. This time when he swings his arm forward, he aims to land the blade in his foe’s neck.He misses that target, tip of his blade skittering across a breastplate, but only because he didn’t take his own height into account. And he leaves his right side open. Mistake , he thinks, bad mistake.
You can fix this mistake.
He isn’t sure whose idea it is, but he lets the tip of the sword lead him into a spin, and by the time Damien’s sword comes down again, it's greeted by the shield. Steel on steel, impact to his shoulder, this time he doesn’t let it step him back. He lets himself smile, just a little.The flash of light comes from over his left shoulder. He barely registers it. A shooting star, there and gone. Damien sees it though, eyes wide, and manages to jerk himself back to avoid the light arrow. The first one, anyway. The third in the volley hits his right shoulder, burying itself into the leather chestplate. Link sees the wince, but guesses that the head of the arrow doesn’t make it through layers of leather and cloth to flesh.Damian leans more weight on his sword, and Link holds. It’s just meant to pin him, though, as Damien turns his attention to Zelda. “I need your blood to consecrate the throne in the castle when I take it. I can just use your head, though.” He turns back to Link. “I’ll end you later.”It’s almost too fast to track, but he swings his sword up and uses the flat of the blade to swipe Link off his feet, striking his left knee and sending him sprawling. He falls hard on his hip, and then his shoulder, dropping shield and sword with a grunt. By the time he pushes himself up on his knees, Damien has crossed the distance to Zelda, who is scrambling back while trying to draw the bow. When he gets to his feet, Zelda has her back against the entrance of the inn, and Damien is too close for the bow to be useful, and she can’t get a full draw, anyway, not with her back against the wall and what did he mean about just her head? He recovers his sword and shield, and she has made the bow vanish, in its place a rapier that seems to be made of the same magic-infused metal as her bow. When had she gotten a rapier, he wonders. He would have worked with her with that, he would have enjoyed sparring with her, when did she get a blade? He starts to run toward her.She isn’t very good with it. Why had she pulled this out now, when they had three days of traveling and was it a week now, in Ordon, they could have been practicing, why hadn’t she told him, oh, Hylia, that grip isn’t even good. Is she panicking? He closes the distance and has Damien's entire back to him. He rears his right arm back taking aim at his adversary’s hamstrings, throwing all his strength into the swing, snarling with effort. The blade hits home, opening up a line across the back of Damien’s right thigh. Link hears the grunt and sees the blood (the smoke) and knows he has scored. Damien ignores him.Ignores him, and raises that jagged black blade. Time slows again as Link watches. Damien begins his swing. His right leg wobbles and half collapses, throwing his swing into a lower arc than he intended. It strikes Zelda right between her hip and rib cage, right where everything is soft and vulnerable, and they had not thought to put her in chainmail, why hadn’t they considered that? She is thrown aside, a broken toy, and there’s blood, a lot of blood and he doesn’t want to think about what else might be exposed.Damien turns to where she has landed, seemingly intent on finishing her. With a growl, Link darts in front of him, trying to make himself as wide and tall as he can.“Really, Hero?”Link says nothing. He can still see her blood spilled on the ground in his mind, and he remembers tasting his own the day he died. He wants to help her, but turning his back just gets them both killed. He stands his ground, and relaxes his hips and knees just a little, ready to move, focused on the figure in front of him.“You don’t need to be part of this, old man. Step aside.”Link wonders how long she can lay on the ground, how long before it’s too late, even for a red potion. He still has one, maybe two, he is pretty sure. She gave them to him before she had sent him out that first time to Faron, trying to equip and protect him. How much time does he have before it is too late? He is angry, he is scared, he doesn’t have the luxury of indulging in either. He pushes aside thoughts he can’t deal with now, and channels his emotion.
Time to rise.
Link takes a step forward, still silent.“I’ll just go through you, too, then, old…”Link surges forward before that sentence is finished, catching his opponent flat-footed. He puts his entire body into his swing, grunting as the blade catches just under the breastplate this time and bites in, hard. He pulls straight back to remove it, feeling a satisfying drag on bone as he does. There’s blood, and he thinks he sees air bubble through it. That would be good, if he could get a lung to collapse.That would be ideal.Damien spins back from the strike, hissing and shrinking back before striking wildly. Link dances back, the black blade singing through the air where he had been. He lets his momentum push him to the side and forward again, aggressively slashing and missing this time. He is close enough to hear air being sucked into the chest wound he scored, and he quickly smiles to himself.Damien takes a step back. Link pushes forward again, teeth bared, losing himself in the flow of motion, one with his sacred blade and who knows how many others who have been in his boots. He loses track of how many times he swings and where he lands. He dodges the big black blade, most of the time. He blocks with his shield and dances out of the way, but he takes a blow to his right hip when his feet are a little slow. He hears the whistle from the chest wound he scored and he thinks Damien’s swings grow lower as he starts to struggle to breathe.Link meets his adversary’s eye and takes his blade with both hands, raising it overhead to drive home a final blow, but as he brings it down, it passes through nothing. There is no resistance. It's as though they are back in the inn in Tabantha and Damien has taken himself out of physical existence.Link doesn’t waste time pondering this. He spins and sprints back to where Zelda is still on the ground, still bleeding, and he can see that the puddle under her looks larger and that’s not good, oh that’s not good. He is cold, and his heart hammers away in his chest, he can feel it in his neck, it's beating so hard.“Zelda?” He hopes he sounds conversational, and not like how he’d just like to scream. “Hey. Zelda?”Oh, she isn’t moving and he can’t tell if she might still be breathing or not. He tries her name again, and this time even he hears his voice rise at the end of it. Her head moves, just a little. He should feel relief, but that’s not quite what it is. Maybe it's just a spark of hope and he can turn it into relief, if he’s quick. He drops to a squat beside her, ignoring the protest in his joints, fumbling through his pack, there has to be at least one, she had given him three and he only used one. She never asked for them back and it had not occurred to him to return them. He digs in, there are two, there have to be, those bottles had not been broken in the river temple, at least he is pretty sure they had not.His fingers find the slippery, smooth glass, and he wraps his hand around the bottle, pulling it free. He uses his other hand to gently tilt her chin up. Her blue eyes focus on his for a second and then roll. He tries to not see how there’s mud or blood or maybe both smeared on her cheek.“Zelda,” steady stay steady. “Zelda, listen to me, I need you to drink this for me. Zelda? Zel-“He stops, thinking he caught a curdled sweetness to the air, the hair at the nape of his neck standing up. A quick glance around shows him nothing but that will change. He pulls her up against him. She groans, and oh, yes, that’s a lot of blood, a lot. Is she usually pinker than this? He doesn’t look at that tear in her tunic where that sword hit her. If he doesn’t look, he doesn’t have to see how it extends into her belly. Her head tips back against him.“Zelda, listen to me. I just need you to swallow, ok, we don’t have very much time. Please, Zelda.”He mutters please Zelda over and over, like it’s a prayer as he uncorks the bottle of red potion and brings it to her lips. The air thickens and she isn’t going to drink voluntarily. He is out of time and if he just pours this down her throat and she drowns at least he tried.The outcome is the same if he does nothing.“I’m sorry, Zelda.”He pours the potion into her mouth and hopes it goes where it will be useful. She coughs and sputters and he guesses that’s okay as magic starts to swirl around him. She gasps, and her eyes meet his and OH she is back she’s back. He quickly stands, pulling her up.“You were hurt,” he says. “We have no more time. He is back.”“Right,” she nods. “Let’s get this thing open.”They scramble to their places and find Damien standing, waiting, just waiting for them, right where the portal should open. As though he knows. He leans on his sword again, and if he was giddy before, he is nearly laughing at them now. Link wonders what the joke is. He is clearly not in on the punchline.“You’re looking better, Hylia.” He wheezes, Link notes. He struggles a little for words, or at least for the air for them. “I suppose your hero swooped in at the last minute? Very noble. You’re wise to keep him around.”Link holds his ground and turns to Zelda. “Zelda, open it and let’s be done with this.”“Yes,” Damien can barely contain his glee, his voice just above a whisper. “Please, let’s open it. Please.”Something about this is not sitting right. Link takes the sword and shield, wondering where the attack is. Zelda gathers herself. Link watches the portal spin open, right behind Damien. There’s a glint in Damien’s eye that makes Link furrow his brow. And then Damien pulls something out of a pocket. A fist sized lump of glassy, black stone. Obsidian, thinks Link.And then he realizes he is looking at the stone that completes the Triforce.
What happens when he pl—
Link does not have time to complete this thought before Damien drops the stone behind him and for a second light flares along the ground, tracing the Triforce. The back of Link’s right hand erupts in pain, and he grinds his teeth. He can see Zelda give her hand a shake.The portal changes. The color shifts, the edges lighten. Instead of spinning, it seems to stop and lock into place. Symbols pop along the edge of the portal, glowing green. Link doesn’t think he recognizes them. Damien laughs.“What did you do?” asks Link.Damien’s laugh has guttered to a gasp. As his breathing heaves, the wound on his chest sucks air in. Link thinks it is a fatal blow.“It’s locked open,” Zelda answers. “He is calling something out.”“Locked. What does that mean?” “It stays open on its own.”“Then I can do this?” He darts between her and their adversary. “We practiced this, Zelda. Get your bow.”She doesn’t need another prompt. The delicate-looking half moon of a bow is in her hands and she nocks an arrow, drawing the string smoothly. Link aggressively guards her. There will not be another strike on her as long as he stands.“You continue to protect her, even when you know she has manipulated your emotions the way she has.” His words are ragged. This speech is probably too much for him, thinks Link. “She doesn’t love you, hero. You only matter where you serve her needs. You’re a tool, Chosen of Farore, a toy, and you’ll be tossed aside as soon as you’re not needed.”The light arrow hits him between the eyes and Link takes the opening, slamming the sword home overhanded and pushing the body into the portal. He grunts pulling it back, the blade smoking with whatever ran through Damien’s heart. Surely, three fatal wounds are enough.The portal remains unchanged. The green symbols pulse in time to a rhythm Link can’t hear, but otherwise it is silent and unmoving. He turns to Zelda, who has her face in her hands.“Did we do it?” she asks.Link frowns. It seems like this should be finally over, but the back of his mind is restless and on alert, instead of accepting the victory. Why?“Did we do it, Link?” she asks again. He does not have an answer he is sure of. He goes to her, scooping his left arm around the small of her back, grinning as he brings her against him. He wants it to be over, and even if he feels uneasy, it must be over.
Right?
He leans in to kiss her, and that’s when the earth rolls beneath their feet, pitching them both to the ground, Zelda landing on top of him. He has a moment to see disbelief in her eyes before he is nearly deafened by a roar of pure fury.“Oh, it’s not over.” Her voice is small and cold.“Oh.” It’s the tiniest sound he’s ever heard from her. “It’s Demise.”He looks at the portal, locked open and too late to close. He remembers images he has seen only in stained glass in the Temple of Time, creatures he always thought were just stories and how no one facing one with just a sword would be anything but lunch. He hopes he was wrong.