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Chapter Text

The temple was ancient and crumbled, and Zelda had to cling to her governess, Mrs. Godfrey, all the way down the precarious wooden steps the carpenters had put in, eyes wide as she took in the great fall on the other side of the rickety railing. Her head turned this way and that, looking at the broken columns and the mossy walls and the rubble, before Mrs. Godfrey cuffed her gently over the head to make her refocus on her father.

King Rhoam was on one knee in front of the goddess statue, hair braided elaborately and head held high before the divine mother. Six royal guards flanked him in neat rows; Zelda knew all of them by face, if not by name, so they had to be the most senior of them.

“Dear mother Hylia,” he said, his voice ringing crisp and clear against the aged stone walls, “goddess of love and light, please let me speak the worries of my kingdom, our grief and our hopes.”

Contrary to what many in the kingdom believed, Zelda had learned prayer at her father’s knee, not her mother’s; it was a vital part of Hyrulean leadership, to have strong faith in the mother goddess that pulled them through catastrophe after catastrophe. For the Princess Zelda, her father had told her, for the female heirs of the throne, it was even more important.

She followed along intently, nodding along to the smooth cadence of her father’s speech. She barely even noticed Mrs. Godfrey’s hand tucking her closer, as if to secure her position.

“The signs of the Calamity draw ever clearer,” Rhoam continued, unwavering gaze on the goddess statue. “Death Mountain rumbles with warning. The monsters grow restless. Malice is thick in the air during the full moon. And I fear that the kingdom is not prepared.”

There was a reason that this ceremony, and those like it, where King Rhoam truly sought the guidance of the goddess, was performed with only those closest to him. He would never dare speak such thoughts in front of the masses.

Zelda, too, would confess her worries only in private one day.

“My daughter, our own Princess Zelda, bears the triforce promised to her bloodline. She wears her burden well, Mother, but it worries me that we have not yet found her counterpart, your chosen hero and knight. We cannot face the Calamity without him, and I fear for the wellbeing of our kingdom if the Calamity strikes first.

“I ask for your guidance in this time of trouble. Whether that be to find him among our own, or in our sister kingdoms, or afield; whether that be to move on and trust your will, or to prepare ourselves for great challenges, know that I only wish the best for my kingdom, and I trust, Mother, that you desire the same.”

Zelda could sense, somewhere in the rhythm of her father’s speech, that he was finally drawing to a close, not having broken the stare of the goddess statue the entire time, nor moved from his place on one knee. It remained to be seen whether the goddess Hylia would answer him, or if she would leave them to follow their own faithful judgment.

Silently, hand squeezing Mrs. Godfrey’s and eyes on the goddess statue alongside her father’s, Zelda prayed too.

Please help us, divine mother. I have the most awful feeling about the coming years.

“Mother, bid us well as we walk our path.”

King Rhoam wrapped up his prayer with a tone of finality, and only then bowed his head to the towering statue. And perhaps that would have been the end of it.

But then the statue’s eyes began to glow. Her smile seemed to curve and widen, soft and benevolent. Zelda gasped softly, wavering on her feet in an imaginary quake, and Mrs. Godfrey caught her without looking, rigidly tense. Zelda leaned into her, eyes wide, but something in her… could not bring herself to be afraid.

A fraction of the weather-worn wall behind the goddess’ head disappeared, but their angle, far below, didn’t allow them to see where it led. The lightest breeze seemed to flicker through the stale air of the temple.

“Hold,” Rhoam said warningly, suddenly on his feet. Every guard on either side of him had drawn their swords; Mrs. Godfrey had pushed Zelda behind her. All of them watched the passage that had opened high above the statue.

The passage closed again. For a reason she couldn’t quite identify, Zelda’s breath hitched. The air went still.

A head poked out from beside the goddess’ wing, features indistinguishable across the distance. None of them relaxed, but Zelda’s governess gasped quietly, squeezing her hand. Zelda didn’t take her eyes off the newcomer.

They felt. Important.

“Make yourself known,” King Rhoam commanded, his deep voice booming through the stone temple. “Are you a servant of the goddess or the Calamity?”

There was a heavy pause, and then the figure started to climb down, sliding carelessly across the goddess statue – down her shoulder, then her robes, and finally dropping to hit the ground, crouching to absorb the impact.

They were wearing a hood, and something sparkled at their forehead from underneath it. Their light blue tunic looked ceremonial, but their trousers were ordinary and they were as heavily armed as any of the guards. Their eyes were so strikingly blue that Zelda could make it out from halfway across the grand room, and they leveled their gaze at King Rhoam without flinching despite the protective motions of the royal guards.

Then, wordlessly, they stripped off one of their fingerless gloves and flashed the back of their hand at Rhoam, revealing a vivid, unmistakable triforce to match the faded one on Zelda’s own hand.

Most of the guards lowered their bows and blades. Rhoam held steady, though Zelda could see it was a strain.

Was it really that easy?

“Are you my daughter’s counterpart?” Rhoam asked the mystery figure, holding himself stiff and tall despite the gravity of the situation.

The hooded figure glanced over at Zelda for just a split second, finding her easily, and then looked at Rhoam again and nodded. They raised their hands and signed, Do any of you know sign language?

Zelda gasped softly. Legend said that the goddess’ hero spoke rarely, if ever, preferring the use of sign; she had been taught it as a child for that reason, and her father before her, and all of the royal guard-

But it felt different, somehow, here and now, to have the hero ask.

“Speak and be understood, hero,” Rhoam said firmly. “Everyone in this room knows your language.”

There was a split second’s pause, and then the hero nodded and continued, I’m from some years in the future. Without intervention, this fight against the Calamity will not go well. The goddess has asked me to do what I can to help this attempt go better.

“Show us your face and tell us your name, boy,” Rhoam commanded. “Your advice will be heeded, but not your secrecy.”

The hero grunted softly, and then reached up to drop his hood, revealing a face much younger than Zelda would have expected, cheeks round with youth and hair braided in a simple traveling style.

My name is L-i-n-k, he signed simply. Rhoam’s eyes narrowed.

“Link… Are you Selwyn’s boy?”

Zelda glanced at one of the guards, closest to the front on her father’s left side. His expression barely twitched, but she thought his name was Selwyn.

Link – Zelda’s counterpart, the hero to her princess, the sword to her seal – shrugged. I’m not sure. A particularly harsh battle cost me most of my memory of my early life. I won’t be able to help you find me.

Rhoam grunted as well, low and contemplative. “One last question before we return to the castle, boy. Have you defeated the Calamity?”

Link tilted his head, and he didn’t smile. Yes. But not before most of the kingdom fell. It will take more than just my own efforts to do better this time.

“Then we will waste no time,” Rhoam said, with such grim decisiveness that Zelda wondered if he had suspected all along that they would lose. “We will return to the castle, and there we can launch the first steps of our preparation.”

Link nodded, and Mrs. Godfrey exhaled shakily, squeezing Zelda’s hand in hers.

“Goddess save us all,” she murmured, almost too quiet for Zelda to hear.

With over a decade of experience, Selwyn was one of the most senior members of the royal guard, well-respected among his peers and trusted by the king himself. And it took every one of those years to maintain his careful composure when Link dropped his hood.

Even now, as they mounted their horses by the road that skirted the bluffs, Selwyn could barely take his eyes off the boy. He hadn’t seemed to notice Selwyn, who had no idea whether to be grateful for the fact; in fact, most of his attention seemed to be on the young Princess Zelda, who was staring back with wide, uncertain eyes, clinging to her governess for reassurance.

Selwyn’s only son was nine years old at the moment, the youngest of his four children. He said perhaps one or two words on a good day, liked to climb the cathedral when no one was looking, and had a bad habit of disappearing into the forest to gather mushrooms for dinner whenever he felt like it.

He was unnaturally brilliant with a sword, and was picking up skill with a bow quite rapidly as well. There was already talk of allowing him to begin knight training years earlier than was typically encouraged.

Selwyn looked at this man, no more than twenty years old by Selwyn’s estimation, and found that it was easy to see his little boy in him.

“I’m afraid we came to the temple to pray for guidance, not a hero,” King Rhoam was saying to Link, allowing the man to linger only a step behind him. “So we don’t have a horse prepared for you.”

Link shrugged, tilting his head up to watch the king. He was still a small boy, dwarfed by the king on his horse. That’s fine. Is there still a herd up ahead?

Rhoam raised an eyebrow at his guard, and Cedric, the oldest of them, offered, “There is, sire, a herd of wild horses in the Aldor Foothills.”

I can tame a wild horse, Link said, unconcerned, Selwyn’s little boy who once had coaxed a sweet young doe over the bridge and tried to convince his parents to let him keep it.

Selwyn could see vicious scarring peeking out from under the boy’s clothing, patches of rough raised skin creeping up from his right shoulder and each wrist, hinting at much more hidden from sight. His stomach turned, but he kept his head held high and his guard up. He was still on duty.

Goddess, this was a nightmare.

“Then we will pause when we reach that point,” Rhoam said decisively, and turned his horse to lead the way down the road.

Link didn’t seem bothered by the long travel on foot; if anything, he seemed exceedingly comfortable, weaving back and forth off the path as if apathetic to the group he traveled with. He climbed a few yards up a cliff face to harvest some rushrooms, took a detour to pick some Hyrule herbs they passed by, crossed the road to pick some apples off a tree…

Selwyn found himself overly aware of the things he was so used to his son doing already, and in particular the way Zelda watched with wide eyes, like Link had become an object of fascination. Even the other guards were sneaking glances at him, expressions anywhere from calculating to wary to faintly awed.

Link ate one of the apples, gaze scanning the landscape thoughtfully, and kept the other two tucked under his arm. His eyes lingered on each house they passed, shadowed and wary. If Selwyn looked closely, he could just identify the sword on his back as the sword of legend, the shield as the Hylian shield. The bow, unnervingly, looked like one that would be wielded by a strong lynel.

They stopped, as the king had promised, by the Aldor foothills, and Link nodded to the king and took off towards the herd in the distance. At a suitable length away, he crouched, starting to creep toward one of the horses with more care.

“So, Selwyn,” King Rhoam said, without looking at him. “Is that your son?”

Selwyn had to clear his throat before replying, eyes on the figure carefully approaching a beautiful blue-gray horse up the hill. “Yes, sire, I believe so. The physical resemblance is clear, and the behavioral similarities are, if anything, even more pronounced.”

Link held out the first apple, waiting patiently for the horse to come close enough to take it from his hand, and then fed it the second and started to pet it. Selwyn could almost hear him making soft, soothing sounds to it as he worked.

Selwyn ached. Link was going to grow up into a wonderful boy.

Just a few minutes later, Link was nudging his chosen horse over to them at a gentle trot, guiding it with nothing more than his knees in its flanks and a hand in its mane. When he was close to the group, he nodded to the king, who nodded back, eyes narrow and assessing.

“Do you have everything you need, boy?” he asked. Link tilted his head, and then nodded. “Then let us be on our way. Fall in beside my daughter. I trust you will look after her and her governess.”

Link looked back, sharp eyes immediately finding the princess and her aide, and without another word he dropped back to stay between her and the road, scanning the horizon with the ease of obvious practice before looking back at her.

And then, for the first time since he’d appeared, he smiled. It was small, and looked tired, but it was real.

Hello, he said to the princess, letting go of the horse’s mane to speak. I don’t believe I knew you when you were this young. Have you started studying potions yet?

Eyes wide and fixed on the older boy, Zelda shook her head, clinging to her governess behind her.

You’ll like it, Link assured her. You always got very excited about your research. You once spent upwards of twenty minutes convincing me to eat a live frog to see if it enhanced my speed.

“I fed the hero of the goddess a frog?” Zelda squeaked out, and then clapped her hands over her mouth, and then signed, I fed the hero of the goddess a frog?

Don’t worry, I’m well known for eating anything that will fit in my mouth, Link said, eyes warm. This was true, though Selwyn had hoped he’d grow out of it. He couldn’t count the number of times Selwyn had found him eating bugs and dirt and handfuls of minnows. A Goron friend of mine liked to feed me rocks after battles, said it would help me grow big and strong.

Zelda smiled at Link, shy and awestruck still, but eyes starting to sparkle with amusement. I don’t think it worked.

No, it turns out rocks don’t offer Hylians a lot of nutrients, Link agreed, smiling at Zelda like an old friend.

One of the other guards, Asher, gestured subtly to catch Selwyn’s attention, and then asked him, You let your boy eat rocks?

Do you think there’s a damn thing I can do about it? Selwyn signed back, and then winced when King Rhoam cleared his throat meaningfully.

I don’t think I should, though, Zelda added hesitantly, shooting her father a guilty glance.

Link’s smile disappeared. I’m going to talk to your father about that. The approach to your training is one of the things I’m going to suggest changing. Zelda deflated visibly, and Link’s expression softened. I promise you were exemplary to the end. No one could have asked for better. But that was by your own virtue, not that of your training.

Mrs. Godfrey reached down to squeeze Zelda’s shoulder, comforting her when she did not relax. “Oh,” Zelda whispered, still looking unhappy.

You saved my life, Link added, focused and earnest. Selwyn felt his heart skip a beat painfully in his chest, and glanced at the scarring that crept out from under Link’s tunic, too vivid for a boy his age. You saved the kingdom.

Zelda looked cheered, though, straightening almost immediately in place. Then I’ll look into it as soon as I can, she vowed, with determination enough that Selwyn almost found himself smiling alongside his son.

His son. Goddess.

Link nodded at her kindly, and then looked ahead again, one hand returning to the horse’s mane and the other stroking its neck with deliberate gentleness.

His boy.

Chapter Text

It was evening before they arrived in the castle’s observation room, settling in a mockery of informality around a table at the foot of the stairs. Link didn’t look bothered, though Selwyn noticed that he placed himself beside Zelda as if by habit, even with the girl so small.

Most of the guards remained outside the doors, standing watch, but with a glance and a gesture, Rhoam indicated for Selwyn and a few of the others to remain inside, likely as both guard and advisors. Selwyn himself was mostly just grateful for the chance to continue watching.

Zelda was wriggling impatiently in her seat, Mrs. Godfrey’s hand on her shoulder not quite enough to settle her, and the guards lined the walls with care.

The king, of course, sat directly across from Link, steadfast and strong.

“Give us your warnings, hero,” Rhoam said, heavy with determination. “Catrain will transcribe your words for perusal.”

Link cocked his head, and then glanced over at Mrs. Godfrey, who nodded at him, already laying out a notebook and ink quill. Link looked back at Rhoam, shifted so his hands were more visible, and said, I must warn His Majesty that Zelda told me I lost many of my court manners with my memory. I may at times be blunt.

Acknowledged, Rhoam said, finally switching to elegant sign now with everyone situated to see him well. Speak freely.

There are three orders of business immediately to mind, Link said, and Selwyn fleetingly wondered if he had thought about this before. Have you begun excavating the land for ancient technology?

King Rhoam’s eyebrows rose. Only just. I would ask that you not mention it outside of this room. It is still meant to be secret.

Apologies, Link said shortly. I will be discrete. As you dig, you will find two things: guardians and divine beasts. Do not reactivate the guardians. They are too easily corrupted by the Calamity’s malice, and the damage they cause is catastrophic.

Selwyn didn’t like the intensity of Link’s expression as he said that.

We can reinforce them against malice, Rhoam said, with such acerbic determination that Selwyn wondered if he’d been lying about them not having only just started. I will not readily turn down the tools of our ancestors.

Link frowned at the king, skirting so close to hostile that Selwyn worried for him and wanted to scold him by turns. A single blow is fatal to an unarmored man. They can crush walls beneath their feet and bridges with their beams.

All the better to destroy the monsters that serve the Calamity, Rhoam said steadily. No ordinary man can fight a lynel in service to Ganon.

I’ll fight a dozen lynels before I find myself forced to stand against those guardians alone again, Link snapped, and it was definitely a snap, motions clipped and angry. Selwyn’s breath hitched, thinking of the towering form of a white-mane lynel, the crusher weapons that were as big as a man’s torso. At least lynels are vulnerable to ordinary weapons.

Do you understand calculated risks, boy?

Abruptly, Link turned to Zelda, who squeaked, eyes wide. But Link only signed, slow and gentle, Cover your eyes, please. I’ll have your governess tell you when you can look again.

Zelda stared up at him, trembling, and then covered her eyes.

Then, uninvited, Link pushed himself up and twisted to sit on the table, still facing most of the room, including Selwyn. And then he pushed up his tunic.

Someone gasped, quiet and strangled. After a moment Selwyn realized it had been him, his fingers convulsing on the hilt of his sword. Link didn’t look up, but Selwyn knew he had noticed.

The skin under Link’s tunic was a mess; it was so much worse than Selwyn had thought from the little he could see around the edges. No, his entire stomach, most of his chest, all the way up, Selwyn suspected, to his shoulder- the skin was twisted, torn, and melted, rough and papery in places, bunched tight in others. It looked horrifically painful.

Link twisted. His back, while not as thoroughly covered, had many of the same marks, the worst of which was centered on an awful blast-shaped mark near the small of his back.

After an eternity, he dropped the tunic, nodded at a faintly trembling Mrs. Godfrey, and turned to the king.

My body was reinforced by the goddess, Link said, too calmly for what he had just shown them. Even the king was dead white. My sword shielded me from the worst of Ganon’s magic. I had skill and endurance far and above most of my peers. And the turn of the guardians brought me a breath from death’s door. It would be a poorly calculated risk to take.

King Rhoam took a deep, steadying breath. After a few pointed nudges from his friend beside him, Selwyn forced himself to do the same.

And what of the divine beasts? Rhoam asked at last.

Link softened, looking exhausted, and slid back down into his seat. I’ll leave that to your discretion. It would be a risk, but not an insurmountable one. The divine beasts could not be used against us as viciously as the guardians were, and they were invaluable against the Calamity itself. If you decide to use them, I would be willing to make suggestions for how to go from there.

Selwyn saw Zelda poke her governess and ask silently, What did he do? Mrs. Godfrey just shook her head, expression grim, and belatedly started writing again.

And the second order of business? King Rhoam demanded as much as asked.

Your daughter, Link said simply. Seventeen years of relentless prayer did not unlock her powers. I don’t know what will, except that when I saw it happen, it was when I was on the verge of death. Regardless, rigorous training is not a route worth pursuing, and you regretted it in the hour of your death.

To his credit, Rhoam responded to this news with nothing more than a grim nod. What do you suggest as an alternative, then?

A friend of mine suggested that passion might be more key, Link said. Your daughter loves her kingdom. Let that be her guidance and trust that she will find her own way.

Rhoam did not look impressed, but he did not immediately discard this as he had the rebuff on guardians. Instead, he looked Link up and down, and commanded abruptly, Show me your sword.

Link reached for it, and then hesitated and asked, You know not to touch her?

According to legend, any but the hero who touched the sword would have their energy and even their very life sapped from them in retribution. Selwyn wondered how much truth there was to the tale.

Rhoam inclined his head, and Link took it from its sheath and set it across the table.

Selwyn, despite himself, couldn’t help but lean forward a little to look. He was gratified to notice that no one else seemed able to restrain themselves either.

The sword that sealed the darkness was a beautiful blade.

Have you proven yourself to the blade? Rhoam asked.

As many times as she’s asked me to, Link answered without hesitation. Selwyn noticed the use of the animate pronoun and wondered if it was simple attachment to his sword, or something else.

Had my daughter?

I know she was allowed to handle her, but no one but me may wield her.

Rhoam stared at the sword for a few moments longer, and then, finally, leaned back and nodded. I will consider your words. What is your last order of business?

My younger self, Link said, clipped. How old is Zelda?

Ten years old at this time, Rhoam said, starting to frown. Zelda was curious too, wriggling in place again, worried and wary.

Then I’ll be nine, Link said decisively, and despite himself, Selwyn swallowed. Don’t look for your hero just yet. The goddess’ trials are not gentle, and nine is far too young for them.

There was a distinctly calculating gleam in Rhoam’s eyes this time, when he challenged Link. War is not gentle.

Link’s eyes flashed with displeasure, and he definitely hadn’t noticed Rhoam’s deliberate manipulation, because he said, quick and firm, Three of my trials sent me to the heart of the Lomei Labyrinths. One of them stranded me on a deserted island without supplies, where I fought two monster camps and a hinox. One had me navigating through ruins shrouded in eternal darkness. Nine is too young for the goddess’ trials.

Rhoam didn’t even bother pushing his challenge this time, instead sitting back to regard Link thoughtfully. You’re well-tried for one so young.

Link looked briefly taken aback, frowning a little as he tried to process that.

The goddess expects a lot of me, he said at last, as if that was the end of it.

Selwyn expected a lot of his children too. He expected them to learn quickly and work hard. He expected them to make mistakes once and no more, and to maintain awareness of themselves and their surroundings. But he didn’t expect this.

Rhoam just nodded, though, thoughtful like it made perfect sense. Tell me this, then, boy. How far in the future are you from?

Link’s expression shuttered.

Just over a hundred years, he signed, with a lack of feeling that was detached instead of calm. I’ll show you where to find the Shrine of Resurrection eventually, but it took me a century to recover from the injuries I sustained in the Calamity. Zelda had to hold the line alone until I woke from stasis.

Even the clang of metal on metal didn’t make Link look away from Rhoam, which was good, because Selwyn didn’t think he could hide his dismay even with Asher’s hand on his arm holding him still and grounded.

Link doesn’t even know your face, Selwyn reminded himself harshly. He won’t respond well to being parented right now.

A dark shadow fell over Rhoam’s expression, grim and resigned. The kingdom fell.

The kingdom fell, Link agreed, and then he bowed his head. I’m sorry.

It was far too late that night when Selwyn returned home, and Eileen, of course, noticed right away, her brown eyes too sharp and too knowing from where she was dozing on the sofa. Their little boy was already curled up against her legs, tuckered out from whatever adventures he’d gone on that day.

Selwyn went straight there, sat beside Link, and pulled the sleeping child across his lap. A light sleeper since infancy, Link woke with the jostling, tilting his head up to squint up at Selwyn inquisitively.

“Go back to sleep, honey nut,” Selwyn said quietly, and Link yawned and curled up into him, slipping back off without any further questioning.

“What’s wrong?” Eileen asked, voice soft as kitten fur, not making any move to take Link back from him. Good, since Selwyn didn’t think he could bear to let the boy go right now. “Did something happen?”

Selwyn shook his head, because even with the roiling mess his stomach was he couldn’t bring himself to speak of things he’d been told in secret. He reached for the elastic that held Link’s hair back and tugged it out, letting Link’s hair fall free, and then the little braids that framed his face too.

Selwyn wanted to reach under his shirt too, check that the skin there was still unharmed and child-soft, that there was nothing rough or twisted under his collar. That was the point at which he would start to fret Eileen even more, though, so he contented himself with this, his son’s warm weight on his lap and head lolling against his chest and soft breath puffing at his arm.

“King Rhoam is pessimistic about the kingdom’s future,” Selwyn said at last, because that was all he could reveal without betraying the king’s trust. “How are the girls?”

“I think Grace and Mary are still awake, if you want,” Eileen said, quiet and sympathetic. “Eloise might be reading, but you know how that girl likes her sleep.”

Selwyn shook his head, and then changed his mind and nodded. “Tell them I have something for them.”

Eileen raised her eyebrows, but nodded, disappearing just into the children’s bedroom.

With his wife out of sight, Selwyn bit his cheek, then lifted his son’s right hand up and examined it in the flickering firelight. There, barely visible even if you knew to look for it, was an unmistakable little faded triforce, only a shade off the color of Link’s skin.

Selwyn had never noticed. Not once in nine years.

Link stirred again and Selwyn dropped his hand like a hot potato, but Link was already blinking blearily, pushing himself up carelessly off Selwyn’s chest.

“Dark,” he mumbled, thin and hoarse, frowning at Selwyn, and Selwyn had to laugh, reaching up to ruffle his son’s honey-blond hair – matched to his wife’s instead of Selwyn’s own auburn.

“My duties ran long, honey nut, that’s all.”

Link dropped back down lazily, freeing his hands. Shouldn’t keep you past your shift. That’s what a schedule’s for.

Sometimes it just can’t be helped, Selwyn chided gently, the firelight making the shadows of his hands dance against the back wall. You’re all worn out yourself, what have you been doing all day?

Link yawned. Played with Sera around the watchtower. Guards kept trying to drive us off, but they couldn’t catch us.

What have I told you about distracting the guards? Selwyn chided, but the rush of relief was too much to put any heart into it, and Link just grunted wordlessly and curled into him, seeking warmth and already dozing off again. He mumbled something that might’ve been an attempt at a word, but if so, Selwyn couldn’t make it out.

Footsteps made Selwyn look up, and Grace came into sight first, eyes bright and curious, shortly followed by Mary. Mary was followed by Eileen, who caught Selwyn’s eye and signed, Eloise is fast asleep, but I can wake her if you need.

Selwyn shook his head, already much more at ease for having seen his family, safe and sound. Let her sleep, it’ll keep until tomorrow.

He ran his gaze intently over the two older children in front of him – Mary, his youngest daughter, and Grace, the middle child, both wide awake and waiting… one a little more patiently than the other, he noted with an amused glance at Grace.

Things might be getting more dangerous in Hyrule soon, he signed at last, earning a gratifying seriousness from both his children. I want the two of you to have these. I’ll give your sister hers tomorrow.

Link, at nine years old, would not be getting a weapon to carry with him at all times, destiny or no destiny. Mary, Grace, and Eloise, at sixteen, eighteen, and twenty-two respectively, probably should have received some quite some time ago.

He pulled two identical daggers from his pouch and set them on the arm of the sofa, where each girl picked them up to examine them, letting them flash in the light.

“Mary,” Selwyn said to catch her attention, and then waved his hand to catch Grace’s. He kept his face serious as he continued, These are not for killing monsters. Do you understand me? I want you to repeat what I said.

These are not for killing monsters, Grace echoed obediently, followed a moment later by Mary, whose laser focus was almost, almost enough to satisfy Selwyn. Why not?

It takes more than a clumsily wielded sharp edge to kill a bokoblin, Selwyn said bluntly. You take that, you stab them, and you run away. Mary, bokoblin are loud, so you’ll probably hear them, but Grace, I don’t want you ever walking outside the town walls without keeping a constant eye on your surroundings. Do you understand?

I understand, Grace said, with such a tremulously uncertain look that Selwyn had to soften.

I’m not trying to scare you. I just want you to be careful. Will you be careful?

I’ll be careful, Grace promised, and Selwyn smiled at her, patted the couch beside him in invitation, and glanced at Mary in question. Mary turned the dagger over in her hands, and then shook her head.

“Going to bed,” she mumbled, but she waved before she left, lingering a little just by the door to examine them before disappearing through.

Eileen sat on Selwyn’s other side, sighing hard enough to ruffle Link’s hair. You be careful too, she signed carefully, meeting his eyes with deliberate seriousness.

Always, Selwyn promised, letting Grace lean against him from his other side. He tried not to think of the older Link in the castle, probably curling up all alone in a borrowed bed, or staying awake to keep watch in an unfamiliar place.

There was work to be done. Selwyn just had to remember that.

Chapter Text

Selwyn had until midday to prepare himself to see the older version of his son again. He spent about half of that time drilling Link on his own footwork, smiling faintly at the gleeful grin that followed every successful iteration of a maneuver.

“Very good,” he said warmly, the third time Link successfully jumped out of a roll and into a solid strike. “I think that’s enough for today, why don’t you go play until lunchtime?”

Link grunted and nodded enthusiastically, barely remembering to put his practice sword away before he darted off, probably to go climbing with his little Rito friend – Seraphina, Selwyn recalled, or S-down in sign. Selwyn had never been able to find out if that was a pun on the feathers of baby Rito or a jab at Sera’s clumsiness.

“And don’t bother the watchmen!” he called after his son, sighing at the dismissive shout he got in return. Resigned, he turned to head towards the castle, figuring he’d get there just a bit early.

He wondered how the older Link had slept. Probably not well, with scars like those.

By the time he arrived, it was clear Link had at least been busy through the morning; specifically, he’d apparently made his way to the royal guards’ chamber, where it looked, from the assembled disgruntled men lining the walls, like he’d spent the morning systematically beating them one by one.

He gave off an appearance of boredom, but Selwyn knew that gleam in his eyes. Link was having fun.

A shout greeted Selwyn’s entrance, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Finally, it’s Hallowell!” Lief called out, lounging against the back wall with a sheepish grin. “Hallowell, you wretched popinjay, get in here and show this man what’s what.” To Link, “Hallowell’s the best of us, you’re in for it now.”

Selwyn forcibly held his composure, leveling an unimpressed look at Lief. Lief was one of the younger royal guards, just a year or two in service, and at times like this it showed. “Is this truly the best use of our guest’s time?”

“He’ll show himself out when he’s ready,” Lief dismissed, though his grin downsized into something abashed. “Come on, Hallowell, when’s the last time you got to show off yourself?”

Selwyn hummed noncommittally, but Link was looking at him now, bright and interested, and almost despite himself he started heading down.

“Not using your own sword today?” he asked, glancing at the royal broadsword Link had in his hand. Link shook his head.

She doesn’t know how to play nice, he explained with an odd sort of fondness, faintly garbled by the grip on his sword. I don’t want to really hurt anyone.

“Ominous,” Selwyn murmured, and then drew his sword and placed himself across from his son, just as he did whenever they sparred gently for training. “Terms?”

“We’ve been going to the yield,” Lief offered, bouncing on the balls of his feet with obvious excitement. Selwyn would have been more exasperated if the others hadn’t looked almost as interested; apparently Link had been drawing some attention.

Link, Selwyn noticed, didn’t have a mark on him, not even a tear in his clothing. Just some sweat gleaming on his forehead.

“On five, then,” Selwyn said decisively, waiting for Link’s nod before he glanced at Asher, who stepped forward to count them down.

Link’s eyes were sharp with a captivating sort of focus, but all Selwyn could focus on was the scarring on his shoulder. That side had to be weak. Selwyn would have to be careful with that side, with scarring like that he could really hurt the boy if he was rough-

“Five!”

Selwyn was almost too slow to even bring up his sword before Link was on him, their swords clashing with almost unnatural strength. Link pushed his sword aside with apparent ease and elbowed him off-balance, and Selwyn was forced to turn on his heel to catch the next strike on the flat of his blade.

Link didn’t let up, and Selwyn was too off-balance to counter. Link’s right side definitely was weak; he didn’t lift his sword as high on that side, guarded it instead of leading with it, angled it away from Selwyn.

Link disarmed Selwyn with a hard strike to his wrist, and then knocked his feet out from under him and shoved him down. He finished with the point of his sword at Selwyn’s shoulder, not a fatal blow but definitely not one he could fight with.

Selwyn had just been beaten decisively, quickly, without even much of a fight, and he knew even before he looked up that Link wasn’t going to fall for it.

Link didn’t look pleased, or confused or even offended. He looked hurt.

He dropped his sword and signed, stiff and angry, I am not weak.

Selwyn took a breath, letting it out slowly, and signed back apologetically, I know. But I have children. I worry.

Link stared at him for a long moment, as if searching his expression for truth, and then nodded. He leaned down to pick up his sword, and then went for Selwyn’s as well, tossing it over almost as soon as Selwyn was on his feet.

Again, he signed, exactly as Selwyn had done to him that morning, as Selwyn had done to him a thousand times before.

Selwyn took a steadying breath, set himself across from Link, and focused. Then he nodded.

There was no countdown this time before Link lunged.

With his focus kept deliberately on the fight, it only took Selwyn a few minutes this time to fall into the rhythm of it and appreciate the fact that Link was good.

His own young son, of course, was brilliant for a nine year old, and he was going to be a record-breaking swordsman one day. But he was a still child. This Link, the one before him now, had years of experience under his belt alongside his natural skill and training, and it showed.

Not a single opening passed by Link’s clever gaze, and though he guarded his right side religiously, he was clearly accustomed enough to doing so that it didn’t slow him down. He caught Selwyn’s sword on the flat of his own and twisted it away, and his footwork carried him swiftly out of reach every time Selwyn closed in.

Selwyn finally lost again fifteen minutes later when Link unexpectedly kicked him in the chest, sending him flying off his feet again, and was on him before he could rise with a knee and a sword point in his back.

When he looked up this time, though, Link was grinning. Without thinking, Selwyn smirked back.

“Yield,” he rasped, and Link immediately let him up, offering a hand, forehead damp with sweat. Selwyn accepted it, chuckling as he was hauled to his feet. Someone whistled, impressed. “You’re skilled.”

It felt like a gross understatement, in particular a massive dwarfing of how proud he felt right then, but Link’s grin widened in obvious delight.

You’re better than anyone I’ve fought before, Link replied, which, given how long Selwyn had been the best of the royal guard, was more funny than flattering. But Link looked comfortable again, using some Sheikah tech at his hip to switch his royal broadsword for the sword of legend.

Selwyn smiled and waved towards the door. “I need to attend to the king – I assume you had more business with him yourself.”

The levity melted out of Link’s posture, and he nodded.

The walk to the king’s study was quiet; Link kept looking around like he was trying to familiarize himself with the castle halls, carefully vigilant, and Selwyn just kept watching him. His own boy had been in these halls dozens of times before. Selwyn wondered just how much of his memory Link had lost.

That Link did not know Selwyn’s name was worrying, but not shattering. That he did not react to Selwyn’s face…

At some point, Link caught Selwyn looking, and apparently decided his behavior required explanation. The castle was the focal point of the Calamity’s attack. It took a lot of damage over the years. If I’ve seen it intact before, I don’t remember. Link turned his head to follow some of the bookshelves as they passed, visibly wistful. It looks nice.

That’s good to know, Selwyn signed gently, smiling a little at the surprise that flashed across Link’s face. If you remember when it started, the king would appreciate that as well. Perhaps if there are any areas that should be evacuated beforehand.

Link’s expression turned contemplative, and he nodded. For a few minutes, they were both quiet, and then Link said suddenly, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I remember very little of the original attack.

That’s fine, Selwyn said, pushing down the flash of fear that wanted to ripple through him. Any information is more than we have now. And there’s you – I haven’t seen you properly at work yet, but it’s clear you’re skilled.

Link still looked pensive, but he nodded again, slow and absent.

That was the end of it until the two of them reached the study. Selwyn turned out of the small entryway and fell into position, nodding at the guard whose position he was replacing, and Link lingered there for a moment, looking at the desk, before following.

The king was assembled with more than a few of his finest advisors and strategists, the large table already spread with maps and papers and a handful of note-takers and scribes. Link faltered visibly, nose crinkling in clear discomfort, but recovered enough to offer a shallow bow to the committee.

Princess Zelda was present as well, her governess attempting to tutor her as though it were business as usual, but she seemed unsettled and her concentration had clearly shattered as soon as Link came in.

Rhoam raised an eyebrow and nodded for Link to rise, then indicated where he wanted Link to sit. I hear you’ve spent the morning putting my guard through their paces, he said archly. Link shrugged.

A few of them wanted to see where I stood, he said apologetically. And they went down so easily that some of the others felt the need to defend your honor.

I take it they failed, Rhoam said, though Selwyn could clearly read his interest in his face; the royal guard’s skill was nothing to sneeze at. I will be interrogating you further on this later, but for now, the Calamity.

A weight seemed to fall over the room. Link set his elbows on the table, his resolve clear in the lines of his face.

With the understanding that this ultimately resulted in the fall of the kingdom, and that this was not remedied until later, the King said, heavy and solemn, I need you to explain the battle with the Calamity.

Link hesitated, and then, with obvious shame in the line of his shoulders, signed, I don’t remember much of it. I can only tell you what I know.

Due to the incident that resulted in the loss of your early memory? the king checked. Link nodded. Very well. Explain what you know. We will do our best to extrapolate.

Link nodded solemnly. As far as I know, it took a week for the kingdom to fall, he said bluntly. The speed of it was most likely thanks to the destructive power of the guardians, but there were other factors as well. From a strategic perspective, one of the most important of these is probably malice swamp.

I’m familiar with malice, the king said intently, searching Link’s expression. But you correctly assume that I am not familiar with malice swamp.

Malice swamp, malice muck, malice slime, Link listed off, and then reached down to pull up his sleeves, exposing the burn scars that seemed to not only cover his wrists, but also a considerable portion of both forearms.

It also exposed a little bracelet- no, two bracelets hooked together, at least one of which Selwyn was almost certain was the one his mother had commissioned for him when he was six. Yes- there was a flash of a little green gem where it had been set into the engraving, its twin on the other side now missing. He wondered what the other one was.

Link did not acknowledge either bracelet. Malice swamp is a thick, oil-slick gel with properties closest to a magical acid. Coming into contact with it leaves burns that rapidly get more severe. I most often encountered it as part of the landscape, crystal pillars of it around large patches of swamp or occasionally in smaller puddles. Sometimes large patches of it can be dissolved by destroying the eyes that the Calamity looks through, embedded in the muck. He tilted his head, expression tired, and tugged at his bracelet before he continued. Around two-thirds of my scarring is not from guardians. It is from malice burns.

Some of the advisors were not subtle when they leaned closer, examining Link’s forearms. Selwyn refrained, his fingers twitching unhappily, and wondered just how much of Link’s body was hurt. Eloise was fast growing competent with potion-making; perhaps she could help.

And this is very important, Link added, casting his gaze around to meet each of the advisors in turn, intense. Are you watching? The king raised an eyebrow, and a few of the less stuffy of them nodded slowly. Link seemed to accept that as adequate, and continued, Malice injuries become a malice infection if the person is left alone. Sometimes- Selwyn’s stomach turned as Link gestured to himself, and more specifically to his exposed forearms, they heal badly. More often, they die. They need to be with people that care about them.

Every word, Selwyn could tell, was being written down in no less than triplicate, and some of the strategists were even taking their own notes, clearly already planning workarounds and counters to this. Even Selwyn himself was following that track- it would perhaps be more efficient to keep soldiers in smaller units, so they were constantly working with close friends and wouldn’t need to be sent home or put civilians at risk. Did it have to be reciprocal, or was it enough for it to be one-sided?

The king was not to be distracted, however.

The events, child, the king prompted, leaning forward. I need you to explain what happened.

Link took a deep breath, and then let it out. Selwyn had to restrain himself from doing it along with him. Beside him, Asher set a hand on his forearm, the most either of them would allow their composure to break while on duty. Selwyn was grateful for the support.

The Calamity struck on Zelda’s seventeenth birthday, as we were returning from the Spring of Wisdom, Link said at last, and he wasn’t looking at anybody, his gaze distant and fixed on the table. Zelda gasped audibly, and her governess shushed her. I hurried to the castle and the champions, one from each of our sister kingdoms, to their divine beasts – I’m afraid I don’t know where the princess went, only that she was safe and that I was able to reach her later.

Zelda’s seventeenth birthday- it was a more exact date than any of them could have possibly hoped for. That gave them almost seven years to prepare, more advance knowledge than they could have hoped for – they could recruit the champions early, know if they were trustworthy and competent…

Link would have been sixteen at the time. Selwyn wondered how good he’d be by then – if he’d have achieved knighthood, if he’d climbed the ranks.

In their divine beasts, Link continued, each of the champions faced a Blight, a manifestation of the Calamity’s power, and died, leaving the divine beasts in the possession of Calamity Ganon. I can only assume that when I reached the castle and realized they were gone, either my courage failed or I faced Ganon anyway, and retreated when I realized I could not win. The next thing I remember is fleeing with Zelda to Fort Hateno, where she awakened her power.

Where Link had died.

Selwyn had fought alone before. Twice – horrible, fraught occasions that had left him battlesick for years – he had fought as the sole survivor of a group, clinging to life by the cracked edge of his sword. It was not something he had ever wanted for his children.

Link met Rhoam’s eyes, expression still unchanged, flat and resigned.

For fairly obvious reasons, I have no memory of what happened after that, he finished. I have some guesses, however.

Rhoam maintained a composure that a bitter, grieving part of Selwyn was beginning to resent. Deliver them.

Link glanced over at one of the advisors and gestured for the map to be spread out, and, possibly too stunned to argue, the man obeyed. Link stood up, studied the map for a moment, and then pointed at a number of locations – Nero Hill, Akkala Citadel, a garrison just south of Castle Town, the military training camp, the coliseum, the castle and Castle Town itself.

Those were the locations still coated in malice swamp a hundred years later, Link explained, sitting back down. I noticed after a while that all of them also had substantial ruins. They might have been strongholds that the Calamity particularly focused its attention on.

The king studied the locations that his strategists hurried to mark with a sharp eye. Not all of them, he said at last. There are a few that might have been initial targets. On the day of my daughter’s birth, there is usually a tournament, so the coliseum would have been full of my most skilled men. The military training ground is always packed. And, of course, Castle Town. Rhoam met Link’s eyes. Was there anything left of it? Link shook his head. I’ll have it evacuated before then. What of the castle?

Link hesitated, clearly considering, and then said, The outskirts, the walls, and the basic structure were all intact. The inside was wrecked and infested with monsters. There was even a talus on one of the lower levels, and a lynel in each gatehouse.

Rhoam grunted, brow furrowing deeply. How much of that damage do you think was dealt in the initial attack?

Link tugged absently at the bracelet again, frowning, and then signed, It was inhabited mainly by lizalfos and moblin. They can’t cause that kind of structural damage. Almost all of it was likely done in the first wave. He closed his eyes, scowling faintly, and then opened them and added, The library was hit the hardest. There was a hole in the roof, and parts of the walkways were crumbled. Most other areas were mainly just full of monsters and malice. The Calamity was in the sanctum.

Selwyn’s heart skipped a beat. He clenched his jaw. That wasn’t going to happen. Even if the attack happened in the precise same way, he would make sure that Grace was not in the library that day. Or Eloise in the alchemy labs, or Eileen and Mary in the stables-

Dammit.

He composed himself for the umpteenth time, and watched his son abashedly admit that that was all he knew, immediately launching into strategizing with the best of Hyrule’s advisors for the coming Calamity.

Link had aged by decades in the time ahead, and Selwyn couldn’t be more proud or more frightened.

Chapter Text

It was hours before the meeting broke up, and Link was already chiding himself for not making time to talk to Zelda sooner. She’d spent most of it blatantly ignoring her studies, watching the proceedings with eyes that were too young.

She’d been escorted out before it was finished, so Link, when he was finally free, was left to go seek her out; this was made easier when one of the guards, Hallowell, caught him just as he was leaving and gently directed him to the library. Link thought absently that Hallowell seemed like a kind man – a little soft, perhaps, but then, Link hadn’t seen him in a real battle yet. Maybe he was only soft for children.

Odd that Link, for all his exhaustion and aching scars, counted among that number.

Zelda and her governess turned out to be sat at a high table in the hushed-but-not-silent library, studying from a thick, new-looking book set in front of her. The governess sent Link a warning look, but Zelda had already spotted him, eyes going wide and sitting bolt upright. Link gave the governess an apologetic shrug, both of them a short bow, and then sat across from Zelda.

Good afternoon, Link greeted gently, studying the girl in front of him. In many ways she looked exactly the same as the princess he knew, the same big blue eyes and long silken hair braided into the same basic style. Even the shape of her face was the same; Zelda had apparently retained most of her baby fat over the years, at least until her last few months of life stole it from her.

Her eyes, though, were centuries younger.

Good afternoon, Zelda echoed mechanically, staring at him with obvious uncertainty. It was fair enough.

It was strange circumstances that had brought Link to this time. If his Zelda hadn’t granted him leave to go – go anywhere, anywhere but Hyrule – he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to look this little girl in the eye. As it was, a familiar pensiveness gripped at his heart and made it heavy.

Zelda had been just a child, once.

I have a present for you, Link said, instead of any of that. Zelda blinked owlishly, and he fidgeted with his slate just enough to pull free a Silent Princess and offer it to her. She took it silently, eyes fixed on it, and he waited for her to look back up before he continued, I don’t know if these are your favorite right now, but they were my Zelda’s. I can put it in your hair if you like.

Zelda blinked at him again, unsure, and then held it out for him to take back. He did, tucked it into her braided circlet in a few careful moves, and watched as she reached up to touch it.

“If that is all, I believe the princess needs to be getting back to her studies,” the governess said sharply, making Link glance over. She looked more uncomfortable than angry, stiff and bristling, and Link considered her for a moment.

I’m sorry, but I’ve found it easier and more fun to work when the princess and I have a good rapport, he said with some wry amusement, forcibly holding off the weight that threatened to settle over his shoulders. I’ll try to find a more convenient time in the future. May I ask your name?

“Mrs. Catrain Godfrey,” she said curtly. Then, after a moment’s consideration and a lingering look up and down, ‘Governess’ will do in sign.

Link inclined his own head, then glanced back at Zelda and shifted to include both of them. I was wondering if either of you had any questions.

Why can’t you talk? Zelda blurted out, and then squeaked and tucked her hands under her legs, bright pink. Link blinked at her, and then snorted softly, which deflated Mrs. Godfrey where she was starting to gear up for a scolding.

He clicked his tongue until Zelda looked back up, and then signed, Have you ever had a dream where you’re trying to do something, and you know how, but you can’t do it no matter how hard you try? Zelda stuck her tongue between her teeth, frowning, and Link almost smiled and elaborated, You dream that you’re trying to cut vegetables, but you keep looking down and finding fruit under your knife, or that you’re trying to say a prayer but you keep changing which one partway through, and you don’t realize it until you wake up.

It wasn’t something Link had tried to explain often – for the most part he preferred that people just accept it as a reality of who he was – but he’d thought about it more than once, how he would explain, if he wanted.

And for Zelda- for Zelda, he would try to make her understand. (His Zelda had never asked.)

Zelda seemed to consider that for a moment, and then nodded decisively, looking at Link with all the seriousness she could muster. He couldn’t help but smile a little.

That’s what it feels like to try to talk, he explained. I know what the sounds look like in other people’s mouths. I know what they sound like, and I know I’ve made some of the same sounds. But they don’t come together for me. My mouth doesn’t work that way.

Zelda made a soft sound of comprehension, exactly the one he knew she would, and nodded eagerly. “Like when I try to dance!” she said triumphantly, and then blushed.

Link laughed out loud, a short, breathless chuckle. Exactly like that, he said warmly. He’d seen Zelda try to dance; two left feet was an understatement.

Mrs. Godfrey cleared her throat, and Link’s smile died away as he looked at her, cocking his head expectantly. She looked more resigned to his presence than anything now, softly shutting the book and setting it aside.

Extraordinarily personal questions aside, she said, with a significant glance at Zelda, who looked away guiltily, I would like to know if you could provide any further guidance on the princess’ development. We have very little to go on now.

Link hummed quietly, and then answered, Not really. Zelda and I spoke about it some after the fact, but not very much. She said, eventually, that what she was missing was the need to act from her heart. That is something learned, not taught. I can’t help you.

Zelda deflated visibly, and Link felt bad about it, but it was true. His counterpart’s power was very different from his own.

The governess’ expression didn’t lose its intensity. You said it was triggered when your life was at stake. There wasn’t anything in your relationship that may have contributed to her awakening? Perhaps an investment you’re keen to rekindle?

Link’s jaw clenched. Despite himself, he reached down to tug at his bracelet, making sure it was still there, before he answered.

Is that not considered a personal question now? he asked coolly, and then, without waiting for a reply, No. Zelda was a very close friend and the partner to my hero’s soul. I was engaged to someone else and they died in the Calamity.

Godfrey exhaled, softened, and inclined her head. Apologies and condolences. With the princess in such a vulnerable state, I had to ask.

Link crossed his arms uncomfortably, scowled a little to himself, and then uncrossed them and signed, She didn’t want me to die for her. That was all she ever said about it. He looked at Zelda, still as a frightened rabbit, forced himself to relax, and continued more gently, Ideally you won’t be put in that position again. As far as I’m concerned, passion unlocked your power. Do what feels right to you. This power is your birthright as much as my sword is mine.

Zelda took an exaggeratedly deep breath and nodded furiously, and then looked at her governess with as much determination as she could muster.

Can you teach me about elixirs today? she asked, so earnestly that Link could see the woman softening.

Mrs. Godfrey nodded. We’ll take a trip to the alchemy lab, she agreed.

Once Zelda and her governess left for the alchemy lab, Link was alone again, which was a bit of a relief; there were too many people in the castle now. Or rather, there were exactly as many people as there ought to be, and Link was too skittish to appreciate it.

It wasn’t hard work to get outside and climb the castle. Feeling flustered and foolhardy, he downed a stealth and an enduring elixir at the bottom, each one strong enough to tingle on the way down, and then made his way up. The sense-enhancing properties of the stealth elixir made it as easy to feel out cracks and weaknesses in the walls as it did to hear when the guards were coming. He didn’t think they’d appreciate him scaling the fortified walls.

The climb was a hard one, stretching his tight skin and taxing his muscles, but he found that he didn’t mind so much after the last few days. It was a welcome break from less familiar tasks, and at intervals he could turn and look out over the fields, and he could see, for the first time, why Impa had said that his memory loss was a blessing.

He could see the ruined towns from where he clung to the castle wall.

Correction: Link could see, from his vantage point two-thirds of the way up the castle, the intact buildings of busy, thriving towns. He could see Hyrulean flags waving in the wind, and a large clock tower he didn’t recognize. He could see the roads, wagons moving steadily along – whole wagons of supplies, not individual brave travelers peddling what wares they could carry and reasonably expect to flee with.

It was beautiful. He wanted to see more of it. He wanted to visit the towns he could see but not recognize, he wanted to travel the busy roads, he wanted to see if the other kingdoms were doing just as well.

He wanted to protect it.

If he had remembered this the first time he looked out over Hyrule field from Central Tower, he would have been sick.

Eventually, Link started climbing again, and settled on one of the spires just short of the top. He straddled the space between the conical slate and the slanted shingles of the regular roof, rested his arms lazily around the spire, and looked out over the fields.

The wind blew by, ruffling his hood, roaring in his ears, and threatening to chill him to the bone. People moved around in the city below, scurrying like ants, too far away to hear.

There weren’t any Sheikah towers visible, or any shrines. No ruins or malice swamp. Not even a hinox or a monster camp.

No guardians. No divine beasts.

Link heard the footsteps before the man spoke, which kept him from jumping, and instead he looked down almost exactly as he did, tilting his head to look at the man leaning out the cut-stone window.

“You really are Selwyn’s boy, aren’t you?” the man mused.

It was one of the royal guards, still in uniform. Not one of the ones Link had fought that morning, but one he’d seen before, with the king. He seemed relaxed, but in the way a fighter on the road relaxed, still watchful and on his guard, sharp eyes on Link.

Link turned around, back to the spire and unworried by the precariousness of his position, and looked at the guard.

People keep saying that, Link said noncommittally, somehow uncomfortable with the thought – with the idea of being known better than he knew himself. What is it now?

“The climbing,” the man said matter-of-factly, still leaning on the windowsill. “Little Link likes to be high up, and I’m pretty sure he’s climbed the castle a few times before too. Hangs out in the windows.”

Link blinked, considering that. It had come rather naturally, when he’d first started to need to climb cliffs and walls. One almost could have called it easy, if it hadn’t hurt his shoulder so much.

“Name’s Asher,” he added. “Signed ‘sword uncle’, because Selwyn’s kids think they’re real funny, and Selwyn and I met in training.”

Kids. Plural. Link lifted his wrist, turned it to watch the two parts of the bracelet jingle together, and then cocked his head at Asher. Did you need something?

“Just thought I’d check on you for him. What are you doing all this way up?”

There’s too many people.

“So many you had to climb all the way up here? The library was quiet too, you know.”

Link leaned against the roof, frowning down at Asher, and then gestured for him to step back. He did, and Link hopped down and swung neatly into window, landing solidly on the stone floor inside. Turned on his heel to face Asher, and crossed his arms, staring at him.

How did you know I was in the library? Link asked after a moment. Asher paused, and then smiled and tapped his ear.

“Walls have ears.”

Link wasn’t impressed, but he took the mental note anyway. I’m more used to being alone. What do you want.

Asher exhaled. “Kid, I’m trying to be friendly. You’re, what, twenty years old? All by yourself in a time not your own, pretty obviously of a mind to single-handedly prevent the fall of the kingdom. And you’re my best friend’s kid. I can’t just leave you alone.”

Link bit his cheek, staring at him warily. He wondered if ‘Selwyn’ was dead.

I’m not used to crowds, he said at last. Or buildings. The last couple years I’ve mostly been in the wilderness. Mountains or forests or fields. He hesitated, and then tacked on, slow and stilted, I always thought it was nice.

Asher snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

Link looked back out the window, then to Asher again. There’s a lot of people out there.

Asher’s expression softened, just a little. “Yeah. One, maybe two million, I’d guess, between all five kingdoms.”

Link deflated a little, leaning on the stone sill.

From two million, to a few thousand.

A beat of silence passed, and then Asher huffed. “Hyrule must be in pretty rough shape a century from now, huh?” Link looked up sharply, and Asher shrugged. “If nothing else, you’ve made that clear. Royal guard sure dropped the ball on that one, didn’t we?”

The bitterness and self-recrimination in his voice was just this side of palatable. Link blinked at him, wide-eyed and thrown, and Asher just raised an eyebrow back.

“You didn’t think it was all on you, did you?” A beat. “Goddess, you did. You’re a teenager, aren’t you? You’re less than twenty.” Link nodded at him, still confused, and Asher scrubbed a hand over his face. “Kid- Link. Did you know the royal guard gets trained in sign?”

Link hadn’t, but it explained a lot. He gestured for Asher to go on, pushing himself up to sit in the window, trying to press down the desire to retreat back up to the spire again.

“Matter of tradition, same as it is for the royal family,” Asher said plainly, eyes intent on Link. “And it’s a status symbol these days, yeah, but that’s a side effect. The actual reason is because the hero of the goddess always speaks in sign, and one day, the royal guard is gonna need to be able to talk to him. Because we’re supposed to back you up.” He waved his hand, indicating the field and the mountains, the volcano and the desert and the towns. “Ten thousand years ago, Hyrule decided it wasn’t right to put all of that on two people, and we’ve damn well stuck by that.”

Link looked over his shoulder, back out over the rolling fields of Hyrule. He didn’t know how to reply to that. For nearly every part that mattered, the Blights and the guardians and Ganon, crawling out of the shrine and gathering everything he needed, he was alone.

He’d met people. He’d talked to them. He’d befriended and helped them. But Link was the only Hylian swordsman who could take down so much as a black bokoblin. He fought alone.

“The others say you swept the floor with them,” Asher continued, the frustration in his voice a little more apparent with every word. “Everyone free this morning, up to and including our most senior.”

H-a-l-l-o-w-e-l-l wasn’t fighting at his best, Link signed, because it was true. Even the second round, Hallowell hadn’t been giving it his all. Link thought he’d enjoy fighting the man for real.

Asher paused, giving him a lingering, unreadable look, and then shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t have been that easy, period. Especially with an injury like yours.” Link bristled. Asher held up a hand. “What did I say? You outdid every one of us like you could do it with your hands tied behind your back. But I bet you aren’t at your best either.”

Link didn’t quite relax, still stinging sharply no matter how true Asher’s assertion was. It was a good day; it had been easy to ignore the ache of his skin.

“You shouldn’t have been able to do that,” Asher said bluntly. “And that’s not on you, that’s on us. King Rhoam’s already talking about stepping up training. If there’s any unique skills you picked up while you were working on your own, it’d be damn nice if you shared.”

Link kicked his boot against the wall, feeling childish. Plenty. I don’t know if they’re relevant. A lot of them might not come up. How to fight a guardian, how to handle a monster camp alone. And some of them you might already know. Asher gestured for him to go on. How to fight a lynel, a molduga, a talus. What monster parts make the best elixirs, which ones make good elixirs but have bad side effects.

Asher raised his eyebrows and snorted. “You brew?” Link nodded. “Well, those last are more a job for the alchemy lab than for us, but the rest can’t hurt to share. Worst that’ll happen is we’ll teach you back.”

The thought was oddly cheering. You have a lot of feelings about this.

Asher snorted again, and finally relaxed a little, looking amused. “I’ve helped your old man spoon-feed you before, Link. I’ve brought you home when you found yourself on the wrong side of the wall or in the lock-up, again. This just went from part of my duty to something very personal.” He paused, and then continued, softer, “I’m not the only one feeling it either.”

Link went deadly still, and then looked Asher in the eye. My father is a member of the royal guard, he said. It wasn’t a question, but Asher, suddenly wary again, nodded slowly. I’ve seen him. Maybe spoken to him.

Comprehension flashed across Asher’s face. He cleared his throat, glancing away.

“Yeah,” he admitted roughly. “Must be some amnesia.”

Link swallowed, misery welling up in his chest as he processed the realization. Then he pushed himself off the ledge, letting his feet hit the floor, and said, I’ll go to the library. You’re right, it is quiet there.

Too quick to be anything but a run, Link left, and he didn’t look back.

Chapter Text

“Hah! Hm!”

It was the surprise of the vocalizations more than anything that made Link look down – it was rare that he heard anyone grunt and shout in the same way he did when he needed someone’s attention. He met the eyes of a redheaded girl with blue, upturned eyes, who smiled when she realized she’d gotten his attention.

Link was mostly just surprised he’d been seen. It was rare that anyone look up far enough to notice him on top of the column where he was sitting.

Everything okay up there? the girl asked him, a hint of a smile just visible. You’re not stuck, are you? Like a cat up a tree.

Despite himself, Link felt the corner of his mouth twitch. I’m okay. I just need space to think.

The girl nodded solemnly, without actually letting her small smile drop. My little brother always gets up high when he wants space too. I need the ladder, should I bring it back when I’m done?

Link shook his head. He hadn’t used it to get up and he didn’t need it to get down.

Do you want a book while you’re up there?

Link considered for a moment, and then said, Only if it’s no trouble. A recipe book would be nice.

She flashed him a cheerful OK and disappeared just out of sight, towards the bookshelves in his blind spot. Just a few minutes later, she wrenched the ladder over and climbed up just far enough to hold up a thin, spiral-bound book, which he reached down to take.

Thank you, he signed, and she grinned at him before leaving again with the ladder, its wheels rolling loudly on the ground.

Link settled back into place, flipping slowly through the book without actually seeing it, just feeling the pages slip through his fingers. In moments, his mind had returned to turn over the conversation with Asher again.

I’ve helped your old man spoon-feed you, Asher had said. Like it was a relatively recent memory. Like it was a normal one, without particular significance.

No grief. No melancholy. No sense of loss or longing.

Why would there be? In this time, a hundred years past, Link’s family was still alive. There was a younger Link, running around without any idea of what was to come, and three older sisters. A mother who made porridge with honey, and a father who helped him back up when he fell.

None of those were memories of a time long lost anymore. They were real. They were people that Link could go out and find, if he wanted. People he could talk to.

He set his hands on the open book in his lap and turned his wrist over, examining the delicate little bracelets hooked together there. Each of them was silver chain with a little engraved plate. One had his name and the words I do not speak, I use sign.

The other had the name Grace Hallowell, and the words I am Deaf, I use sign, matched exactly in font and cadence to his. On the back, in a different handwriting, Isha had inscribed simply, In memory.

Bringing the two bracelets to Isha had been one of the last things he and Zelda had done together before she became too ill to travel. It was a morose but soft memory, for her to help him crystallize his grief into something he could touch rather than the vast and incomprehensible chasm that it usually was.

That was the way he and Zelda had differed, in the months after the Calamity had been sealed: while Link had lost even the memory of his past, Zelda knew in excruciating detail exactly what once had been and was no longer. Instead of an aching void, she felt the phantom of everything that should have been, before it was all destroyed.

There were plenty of times that she was bitter about the difference. Link understood. He was too, sometimes. He supposed the grass would always seem greener on the other side.

Link wondered if this would be easier for her to deal with than it was for him, for her to have back what she missed so dearly, or if it would be harder – to have loved and lost and grieved and then have it so abruptly returned. What did one even do, when you’d lost so much time mourning what was no longer gone?

He supposed, probably, the same thing Link was doing with the little wide-eyed (round-cheeked, curious, healthy) Zelda he’d found here: keep it all safe.

It had been three weeks since his Zelda had died, and three days since Hylia had apologized to him and offered to let him go back. It felt, on both counts, like much longer.

He flicked restlessly through the recipe book, unable to focus with his mind so unsettled. Scholars and nobles and scribes moved to and fro below him, working at the tables or looking through the shelves. It was busy. It was full. Grace had worked here once, Zelda had told him. Did she now?

It was too much. Link tucked the recipe book into his slate to free his hands, and then climbed down from the column, swift and unnoticed, sliding down with a soft bump. Then he took it back out, placed it on a nearby table, and disappeared down one of the hallways.

Deep in the castle, one floor below the sanctum, there was a small, quiet chamber, elegantly decorated, that served as a temple for the inhabitants of the castle. The goddess statue was large, like the one in the Forgotten Temple, the Temple of Time, and the springs, and the arched ceilings left plenty of room for hanging plants and flowers around her head, like a living flower crown, and the rest of the room as well. To her left, there was a silver, stemmed bowl that burned with blue fire; to her right, a small fountain.

There were a dozen large offering bowls at its feet, two rows of six, made of beautifully carven wood. The front row had the more common offerings, apples and berries and dried flowers, and the back row had the more elaborate fare of the castle: handmade jewelry, fine tooled leather that had been prettily embroidered, a few cleaned lynel hooves and a cured hinox eye, even one bowl that was full of a mix of wines and dyes.

Link hadn’t come across it until he was exploring the castle during his first night in the past, and he thought he even knew why; all the access points in his own time had been impassable, clogged by malice. He’d spent almost three hours there as soon as he’d found it, though – he thought it might be his favorite place in the castle.

This time he paused by the offerings, dropping to one knee to place some honey candy in one of the front row bowls, and then continued on past them to kneel in front of the goddess statue.

He took a breath, let it out slowly, and bowed his head. Then, without looking, he signed, Dear mother Hylia, goddess of love and light, please let me speak my worries, my grief, and my hopes. It has been three days now since you offered me the chance to make things right, but I still worry that I will not be enough.

There is so much to mourn here. I find myself grieving things I didn’t know the future had lost until I saw them, but they are no longer gone save for in a time no one but me remembers. It can be hard to understand. How can I miss them if they are not destroyed? But I do. Even when I know my sister now lives, I know that I will not ever let go of her bracelet.

And I am scared. In my own time, Zelda and I could win, but it cost us everything. I worry that even if we win again, at far less cost, it will still be more than I can bear. I am tired. I feel weak. I have lost so much, mother, and it hurts in every way.

Even as I have so much of it back, I don’t know what to do with it. I have met my father and I did not recognize him. I know I could find out if I asked, but I’m scared. I am not his son anymore. I am not the person I was before I fell on that battlefield. He will not recognize me either. I don’t want to be a disappointment, but I worry that I cannot help it.

Thank you for sharing in my grief, mother. Please bid me well as I walk my path.

Link lingered there for a few more minutes, basking in the peaceful quiet of the temple, and finally sighed. He stood up, stretched a little, and turned to leave. A Zora appeared from a small room nearby, one Link had noticed but not taken note of, and kept his distance, giving Link a small, kind smile.

Good evening, the Zora signed serenely. I am the priest of this temple, if you wish to seek solace. I do not recognize your form, but certainly I could come to.

Link blinked, and his mind took a few moments to recall the relevant information: once, when there were more devout followers, the temples in Hyrule had been kept and maintained by their priests. If Link wanted, he could ask the man for advice, or for comfort.

Link shook his head. Thank you, but it was enough to share my grief with the goddess. Link already felt steadier, at least enough to continue on his way. Besides, he wasn’t sure how much he could safely share.

The Zora’s smile softened. Of course. Walk your path in peace.

He nodded absently, fiddling with his bracelet just for something to do with his hands. Link thought he could probably return to the library now – he hadn’t actually read that recipe book earlier, but maybe now he’d be able to concentrate well enough to learn some things. Even if that one wasn’t where he’d left it, he could probably locate another.

Still distracted, Link almost ran face-first into Hallowell on the man’s own way towards the temple. Both of them side-stepped in the same direction, leaving them blinking at each other in confusion, and then Hallowell chuckled.

It certainly has been a few days for you, hasn’t it? he asked wryly, and tilted his head down the hall. If something is troubling you, I’ve got time.

Hallowell certainly did have a soft spot for children. Link shrugged, wrapping the thin chain of his bracelet over one finger, and then let go to sign, I wouldn’t want to bother you.

You’re not bothering me. It’s the least we can do. Perhaps I can help.

Link hummed, rocking on his heels a little. Hallowell seemed sincere, and sharing his grief had steadied him but some advice might be nice. Finally, he nodded.

Hallowell took him to another small room just off the temple, similar to the one the Zora priest had emerged from, and shut the door for privacy. Link looked around a little, finding no more than a low shelf with some books, a round table surrounded by chairs, and a small bowl of glass and stone marbles.

He sat at the table and took a handful of marbles, letting them roll around in front of him to fidget with. Hallowell sat too, leaving one chair between him and Link, and waited patiently for Link to speak.

I realized earlier that my family is alive in this time, Link said at last, keeping Hallowell just inside his peripheral vision. But I’m not sure what to do about it.

Hallowell took an oddly measured breath – perhaps hadn’t expected the matter to be so intensely personal – and then asked, Why not?

I might have unintentionally misled you all about how much of my memory I lost, Link explained, pausing to roll the marbles around as he thought over how to explain. I lost everything. I probably would have forgotten my own name if it hadn’t been the first thing I heard when I woke up. I’ve remembered fragments since then, but it’s… I can’t adequately explain how little it is.

That must be exceedingly difficult, Hallowell replied, slow and careful. Wouldn’t you want to relearn what you can?

I do, Link assured him earnestly. But I’m worried I’ll upset them with who I’ve become. They still have their child. They don’t need me to make things complicated. Especially when I’m so… messy.

You should consider it, Hallowell said gently. They might surprise you. And you’ve seemed so far to be a sweet-natured child. You wouldn’t upset them.

Link exhaled, rolled the marbles around for a few more minutes, watching the light reflect off of them, and then shook the hand with the bracelets and said, One of these is mine. The other belonged to my sister. Hallowell inhaled sharply, but Link was almost too distracted to even take notice. I took it off one of the lizalfos that lived in the library, and I killed it. When the Calamity brought it back, I hunted it down and killed it again. Savagely, like an animal. Wasn’t even good for parts after that.

Cupped one hand, rolled the marbles into it one by one, and then let them go and watched them spin.

I don’t know why, he said at last, when he didn’t catch any motion from Hallowell. He’d probably surprised the man. I don’t even know if it killed her. It probably didn’t. But I get so angry every time I see it. He shrugged unhappily. I’m damaged. I don’t want them caught up in that.

You’re battlesick, Hallowell corrected gently, something heavy in the lines of his face. It happens to the very best of us. They’ll understand. It’s not uncommon around here.

Link bit his cheek, unconvinced. I hurt Zelda once. She tried to wake me from a nightmare and I threw her halfway across the room. She got a concussion.

“Link,” Hallowell said aloud, soft and serious, and when Link glanced over, signed, Accidents happen. It’s not your fault. And you want to see them, don’t you?

So much, Link admitted honestly, and then nodded, slowly, shoulders relaxing a little. I’ll think about it. Thank you.

Hallowell gave him a small smile, tired and dry. Of course. I hope you are able to find solace in yourself. For my own part, I need to do some commiseration with the goddess as well.

It was a subtle and elegant way of excusing himself. Link nodded, waving his hand, and didn’t watch Hallowell go.

…He felt better.

Chapter Text

Link spent the next few days mostly giving all the details he could remember. He explained the ancient weaponry and the blood moons, the towers and the labs, and what names he could: Robbie and Purah and Impa, Mipha and Daruk and Urbosa and Revali, all people to look out for and trust with the future of the kingdom.

Rhoam spent a day interrogating Link on the exact circumstances of the Divine Beasts, how they helped, what damage they caused, what it took to use them, and ultimately decided to take the gamble.

It was productive, which Link appreciated no matter how much it wore on his nerves; straining to remember things was always stressful.

He’d overheard that there was a market day in Castle Town on Saturday – Asher had mentioned it to Hallowell – and he had to admit that he was curious. So when Saturday evening came, he slipped out of the castle and into the town square.

The market was noisy and crowded. Link, lingering on the edge of it, tried and failed to come up with a point of comparison. He’d never seen anywhere so busy.

There were so many people.

Link knew without even trying that he wouldn’t be able to stand having so many strangers so close to him; a lot of them were touching, brushing and bumping past each other without a second glance. Instead, he climbed up onto one of the buildings nearby, a butcher shop, and watched the people below haggle and shout and laugh, bargaining and trading. He could see a jeweler selling earrings and necklaces and hairpieces, a potter offering earthenware, a tanner with expensive leather goods.

It was fascinating enough that Link didn’t even get bored watching them, waiting for the crowds to thin. Food traded hands, meats and stews and bread, and bottles of wine in a cart. A calf, leashed and led around. Scarves and shawls.

The sun had set by the time Link finally came down from his perch, and he made his own way around, just as wide-eyed as he had been when he’d watched from a distance. He bought a brass cauldron with a matching tripod that he could carry around in his slate, and an oil lamp that would be a blessing on dark nights, and, unable to resist, a delicate necklace with a pearl pendant wrapped in a ruby-specked teardrop setting, which he put on.

He ended his rounds by perching on the side of the fountain in the center of the square, watching the few remaining shoppers make their way around, eating the candied nuts and berries he’d gotten from another vendor out of their bottle.

Motion nearby made Link look up, and he smiled when he saw the redheaded girl he’d met at the library, offering her a small wave.

She smiled cheerfully back, returning the wave before stopping close by and signing, I guess you aren’t always so skittish after all.

I spent an hour on the roof nearby before I came down, he informed her, and smiled a little when she laughed. He held out the jar of mixed candy in offering, and she made a delighted sound before taking a few, sitting down beside him. He set the bottle between them and asked, Are you here for the market or do you live nearby?

I live nearby, she said easily. Mom did a round through the market earlier, we don’t really need that much right now. But most of my family works in the castle.

Link popped a honeyed berry into his mouth and tried to think about that. Even with the last few days, it was hard to imagine. But not all in the library?

Definitely not! She took another nut between words and crunched. Dad works as a guard and Mom as a horse trainer. My older sister is an alchemist’s apprentice and my younger sister works with Mom.

That’s a big family, Link said wistfully. The girl nodded fondly. You have a little brother too?

Yeah, but he’s too young to work just yet, she explained. He wants to be a guard like my dad, but we’ll see how he grows up. I keep telling him he’s too sweet for it. Like-

She popped another berry into her mouth and winked at him, and he snorted.

They kept going like that until darkness fell – somehow the girl got around to the topic of ruins, and Link started to tell her about the ones he’d visited that would still be around in this time – and then Link looked down and realized that between them they’d emptied the bottle. The girl followed his gaze and wrinkled her nose apologetically.

Why don’t I buy you more? she offered. I did just eat half of yours.

Link shook his head, smiling a little. It’s fine. I should be getting back to the castle anyway. I’ll see you again?

She nodded firmly, and then snapped her fingers. I never told you my name! It’s G-r-a-c-e, you sign it like this. She formed a G in one hand and used it to indicate her mouth, giggling softly.

Link mirrored the sign, warmth blooming in his chest, and returned, Mine is L-i-n-k, signed honey nut.

Honey nut? Grace signed back to check, and then her expression went blank, freezing in place. Link froze, too.

(Link remembered-)

(He’d spent some time sulking in a bedroom, once, with two beds and two dressers. He’d turned over to look at the door when he heard it open, and Grace had walked in, wearing a wry smile.)

(She’d knelt beside him and signed, Don’t sulk, your face will get stuck that way.)

(He’d grumbled wordlessly and sat up to sign back, But it’s not my fault no one thought to look for me in the chimney. It was a good hiding place.)

(She’d tweaked his nose, making him jump, and returned, You’re supposed to come when you’re called, honey nut. But you’re right, it was clever of you. I’ll give you a treat if you promise me a smile.)

(He’d perked up, and she’d held out a small bowl she’d hidden out of sight, full of honeyed acorns.)

(He’d beamed at her, and she had smiled back, wide and pleased.)

Link blinked, coming back to himself with a jolt, and found Grace still staring at him, eyes wide and face pale.

Grace. Grace. G-giggle. Grace.

Without giving himself time to think, he grabbed her sleeve and urged her to her feet, and she stood and followed him when he darted away. From the back of his mind, his threadbare memory told him that there were secluded rooms in the cathedral, and they could find privacy there.

So that was where they went.

Grace stayed quiet and compliant long enough for them to go inside, through the main hall and into one of the offside rooms, and only when they’d both sat down did she ask him, Is my little brother okay?

Link nodded quickly, feeling his stomach turn with anxiety. (He wasn’t ready for this-) He’s fine, probably at home. I asked that no one look for him and nothing is… immediately wrong.

Grace searched his face for a moment, probably checking for honesty, and then, slowly, relaxed, just a little. She reached out, and her fingers ran firmly over Link’s forearms, lingering briefly at the burn scars visible from under his sleeves. One hand found the bracelets and just barely touched them before moving swiftly along, turning over one hand to brush his callused fingertips. Moved up over his arms, fingers grazing his face before she finally pulled away.

And Link let her.

As he watched, her face shifted into calculation, thoughtful and intent, and she asked, What happened?

Link swallowed. His mouth was dry. Things went badly, he explained lamely, unsure and skittish. It- if we’d known more, it could have gone better, so Hylia offered-

What happened to you? Grace corrected, and she touched the paired bracelets, his callused fingers, the scarring around his shoulder. Link went still.

He looked down at his wrist, and then said, I don’t want to talk about it.

He didn’t know how to explain. Gently, to someone he barely remembered and didn’t know well.

Grace considered him for a moment, something shrewd in her eyes, and then signed, It’s a good thing neither of us have voices, then. Startled, Link let out a snort. Visibly bolstered, Grace sat back in her chair and continued, cocking her head as if in deep thought, It must be something complicated. Like- a plot to get an extra helping at dinner! Or, no, Hylia realized that no one but you can keep Link out of trouble, so she sent you back to help. No, you angered the sacred monks and were forced to flee.

Link leaned against the table and laughed, hard and helpless, muffling it uselessly into his hand. He laughed until his chest hurt, and since he hadn’t laughed since Zelda had died, that didn’t take much. And then he kept laughing.

Grace grinned at him, clearly pleased with herself, and then asked casually, So why didn’t you say anything sooner?

Link was still trying to control his giggling, cheeks aching with his smile, and Grace’s question didn’t completely process until after he answered, I didn’t recognize you. I don’t remember much from before the Calamity.

He looked up when Grace failed to reply, and his smile vanished when he realized what he’d just told her and the abruptly frightened look she’d taken on in reply.

I recognize you now, he rushed out, heart twisting unhappily. I remember, I recognized your namesign, you snuck me sweets one time, and anyway I should have recognized you from the start, I remembered you months ago, you told me not to sign with my hands full-

He knew he wasn’t helping but he couldn’t seem to stop himself, not until Grace interrupted, pale but determined, You need to come home.

Link had to strangle a yelp, and he protested, I can’t do that! I don’t remember anything, I’m different, I’m all wrong- please, they’ll just get upset-

Don’t worry about it, Grace said firmly, standing up as if the matter was already settled. Actually, do worry about it, because if you don’t come I’m gonna tell Mom on you.

Link let out an undignified squawk, staring at her. She looked dead serious, staring at him expectantly, and, helplessly confused, he said, Okay?

She nodded, as if that settled it, and led him back out.

Grace led him to a house only a block away from the town square, with a vividly green roof and solid stone walls like all the rest. She didn’t knock on the door before she entered, and she didn’t let go of Link’s hand either.

There was a sitting area just inside, with two sofas and a couple of chairs all set around an unlit fireplace. A girl a little younger than Link, with a large pale red birthmark covering most of her left cheek and some of her neck, sat in one of the chairs, reading. A woman sat in another, boredly mending a torn tunic, with a small pile of more clothes set beside her.

On the couch there was another girl, this one a little older than Link, who was fiddling with a toy knight set on wheels; one of the wheels had fallen off, and she was fixing it under the anxious gaze of a young boy that even Link could recognize as his younger self. His breath hitched.

Grace, unconcerned, went straight to the woman – with some force of will, Link even recognized her as his mother – and started signing urgently, her body blocking off too much for Link to make out. Still, whatever she said made the woman stand up, puzzlement and the start of worry coming over her, and Grace all but dragged her over to Link, who shuffled in place, sick with anxiety.

Link could feel the eyes of the others burning into his back as Grace directed them up and away, up a ladder to what turned out to be a large attic with a window overlooking the square, letting in just enough light to see by. Grace sat them both down across from each other, confident and no-nonsense, and then turned to light a candle to improve the dim lighting.

Then she turned back to them and signed to the woman, Mom, this is Link from the future after the Calamity, but he barely remembers anything. Link, this is Mom, her name is E-i-l-e-e-n.

Then she sat down and gestured vaguely, as if to say ‘deal with it’.

Link let out a high, betrayed hoarse noise that he would later deny having made, and, as Eileen turned towards him, visibly unsettled and questioning, he scrambled to make Grace’s claim into something believable.

He showed her the two bracelets first, tilting the plates up so Eileen could see the inscriptions on them, which surely she would recognize. Then, desperate to push the gravity of the matter, he also pulled off one glove and turned his hand over, showing her the triforce mark that had made this happen.

Eileen’s mouth opened and closed for a minute, and it took her a while to react beyond that. Link all but held his breath, watching as she stared at his hand, then reached up to tilt the bracelets up again, then looked at his face, her blue eyes searching his.

Looked down again, then back up, and then she let go of his hand.

What do you remember? she asked first, sign swift and easy like she used it all the time.

I’m sorry, he replied miserably, heart racing. (He wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready.)

I forgive you, Eileen replied without hesitation. What do you remember?

Link hesitated, fingers twitching impotently for a moment, and then signed, You make rice porridge with honey it. Once you made it for me and the smell woke me up, and you promised me a surprise. I was excited. I knew what it was.

Eileen waited, and Link just pushed his hands into his lap, shoulders hunching and shame curling tightly in his chest. After a minute, her expression crumpled.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eileen said aloud, voice thick with sympathy and concern. This must be why Dad came home such a mess a few days ago. Picked little Link right out of my lap and held him until they both slept through the night on the couch. Have you talked to him?

I wouldn’t have been so graphic if I’d known he was there, Link answered weakly, unable to look right at her. (He’d already worried them so much.)

Conflict and uncertainty flickered rapidly across her face, but in just a few more moments it crystallized into resolve, and she nodded as firmly as Grace had earlier.

You should stay for dinner and talk to everyone, Eileen said, leaving no room for argument. You don’t have to explain any more than you want to. But you should be there.

…Are you sure? Link asked after a moment, as thrown as he was anxious. He’d been invited to stay for dinner before – with Dorian’s family, sometimes, or when he cooked for Bolson and Karson, and once with the mother in Lurelin.

But this was. Different.

Of course, Eileen said firmly, almost in unison with Grace, and that, apparently, was that; he couldn’t read any more of her thoughts in her expression.

Everything is going to be okay, Grace tacked on, when Link accidentally caught her eye. She gave him a smile, small and reassuring. Dad should be home for dinner tonight, and he knows more, doesn’t he? Link nodded. Then he can help, if you want to explain, you know, later.

Her smile wavered the littlest bit, and Link looked away quickly when he realized she was more ‘good at faking confidence’ than she was ‘actually confident’. He nodded again, standing up just before the other two did.

Link followed them both downstairs, taking his time on the ladder, and by the time he hit the bottom, Eileen had ushered the other three children to the kitchen, speaking in a quiet voice he could just barely make out. He faltered uncertainly, but didn’t have more than a second to hesitate before Grace was waving him over. He sat beside her on one of the couches, perching on the arm so that he wouldn’t be too close.

You didn’t mention that when we talked, Grace said conversationally, drawing a circle on the back of her hand to illustrate. Link winced.

I panicked, he said sheepishly, resisting the urge to cover the back of his hand. It’s complicated. But it was all I could think of that would explain how I got here.

Is it new? Grace asked, leaning forward to get a closer look. Link let her, trying to think of how to answer when he didn’t even really know for sure.

He was saved from having to come up with a response by the return of the others. Eileen looked a little flustered and weary already, while both sisters looked openly doubtful. But it was Link’s younger self who walked right up to him, still clutching his toy knight under one arm, looked him in the eye, and asked, Is it true?

Link looked at him, a full foot shorter than Link and slight enough that Link could probably pick him up with one arm, blue eyes a perfect match to Link’s right down to the solemn shadow.

Link hadn’t wanted to explain this to him – not now, not for at least a couple of years. But it would be much worse to leave him wondering.

After a moment’s consideration, Link slid off the arm of the couch and knelt in front of the younger Link, gesturing for him to sit down. Little Link stared at him for a moment, wary and unsure, but finally obeyed.

Gently, Link picked up the little boy’s hand and turned it palm-down; a cursory examination revealed what he was looking for, and, without any resistance from the younger boy, he traced his finger over the nearly invisible triforce marking on the back of his hand, and then let go. Then he dropped his own hand side by side with Little Link’s, showing the matching triforce there, glowing with a faint unearthly light.

Little Link swallowed hard, but didn’t recoil, and Link was surprised to realize that the boy had already known.

It’s faded because you’re young, he said at last, drawing Little Link’s attention back up to him. Everything else seemed to fade away, his focus narrowing down to this conversation. He didn’t want to mess it up. It’ll grow in power as you overcome trials. You recognize it, don’t you?

Little Link hesitated, his shoulders tense, and stole a quick glance off to the side, where the others were hovering. Finally, he shrugged, pulled his hand back, and said, slow and tense, It’s the goddess’ blessing. It’s a call to arms.

He looked so young and so brave, just on the edge of trembling, that Link couldn’t help but soften. It was… odd, to imagine that this had been him, once.

It’s a promise from the goddess to her knight, Link said gently. If nothing else, it was clear Little Link already understood the gravity of what the blessing meant; what Link needed to do was reassure him. She loves you and she trusts you. She knows you’ll do your best and she’ll help you as much as she can. She leaves you no commands because she knows she doesn’t need to; you’re exactly what you need to be.

Little Link stared at him, brow wrinkled with clear anxiety. His toy knight was still squashed under his arm, threatening to slip free and clatter to the ground. Link took a breath, searching for the signs he needed.

I’m here to help, was what he settled on. Whatever may come. I promise.

Little Link bit his cheek, shadows flickering and flashing behind his eyes, too quick for Link to read, and finally he asked, How long?

There were any number of things he could mean. How long?

Little Link looked down, fidgeted, moved his toy knight to his lap, and then looked back up at Link, took a deep breath, and said tremulously, Legend says that the Hero of Time was eleven.

Link inhaled sharply. Offside, he could hear more than one of the others do so too, quiet as they’d been so far.

It had been the king that told Link that he was ‘the hero’, though he’d noticed the triforce marking by then. Slower to come had been the understanding of what that meant – of the soul of the hero, the legends accumulated over time, the sword that felt almost like a part of him.

He hadn’t fully accepted it until he’d drawn his sword for the first time. But of course, Little Link had had much more time.

No. You have time, Link reassured the younger softly. I didn’t draw my sword for the first time until I was fifteen, and my quest didn’t begin until I was sixteen. I finished when I was seventeen, and I’m eighteen now.

Grace is eighteen, Little Link returned, just as soft and almost melancholy. He didn’t look as comforted as Link had hoped.

And isn’t she almost grown? Link countered. It’s okay. Our sword is patient and she’ll wait for you. All you need to do now is grow up and grow strong. I’ll keep watch in the meantime.

Little Link looked down again, and after a second, nodded hard, and then got up and darted over to a corner of the room, where he sat again and spun the repaired wheel of his toy, looking tense and unhappy. Before Link could even consider doing anything, Grace was there, crossing the room to take her place beside him.

A little lost, Link looked back to the others, Eileen and- and Eloise and Mariana, and realized he didn’t even know which was which.

The older sister looked less doubtful and more unsure now, and she wasn’t even looking at him; she was looking at her little brother, clearly troubled. Eileen’s expression had taken on a solemn overtone to match Little Link’s, and she was looking there too.

The youngest sister was looking at him, and her expression had gone from skeptical to calculating. So we have six years until the Calamity, she said decisively.

Link glanced at her, surprised but not unappreciative.

Seven years, he corrected. The king knew it was coming before it arrived. He hesitated, and then tacked on, feeling oddly small, I didn’t mean to bother you at all. I ran into Grace by accident.

That drew Eileen’s attention back to him, and in a moment, she’d crouched beside him, one hand on his shoulder, and said quietly, “Honey, you can come home whenever you want.”

Link stared, completely lost as for how to reply, and after a moment, she smiled sadly, let go, and leaned back to give him a little space.

Do you still like to cook? she asked him. He nodded uncertainly. Would you like to cook dinner with me? It seems like we have some time to catch up on.

Link fiddled with his fingers for a moment, and then nodded again.

Chapter Text

Between the two of them, they made enough glazed meat pies for seven, and while those were finishing up, some honey candy as well; Link thought absently that those were his favorite, and then realized that of course, Eileen would know that.

It was easier than Link would have expected, to have a task to share instead of trying to figure out what to talk about, and he was almost relaxed by the time the front door opened. Almost smiling, he glanced up to see if he’d recognize the man after all, and then went still, feeling the blood drain out of his face.

His father had frozen in place too, going ashen as he met Link’s eyes.

It was Hallowell.

Hallowell. Selwyn Hallowell, like Grace Hallowell, like Link Hallowell, because Hallowell was his last name, because the last name was what you called someone if you weren’t good friends.

Link was so damn dense.

Link dropped the wooden spoon, looked away, and signed quickly, Excuse me. Then, without looking at anyone, he scurried out of the room, blind instinct directing him to the still-open ladder to the attic.

In only a couple of minutes, he found himself in the high rafters of the attic, clinging to one of the support beams and pressing his head against it, berating himself.

He’d met Selwyn. He’d sparred with Selwyn. He’d talked to him, he’d talked to him about his family, and he hadn’t recognized the man as his father. Not even a little bit. Not an inkling.

Link was tired of missing his memory.

A while passed before he heard footsteps, and when Eileen called out softly, he was already looking at her. Her eyes searched the ceiling for him even as she emerged from the trapdoor, and when she found him she smiled gently, unable to hide the worry in her eyes.

What do you need to come down? she asked, surprising him.

He took a short, sharp breath, and then shook his head hard. I don’t know. I’m wrong. I’m a stranger. I’m broken and feral. I think I should leave.

Eileen paused for a moment before replying, eyes on his. I knew exactly where to find you even though I didn’t see where you went. You’ve been helping me in the kitchen since you were five. You have the bracelet I bought for you and you’re gentle as a butterfly. You’re not a stranger; you just grew up the hard way.

There was an odd ache in his throat that didn’t want to go away. I didn’t mean to scare anyone. I’m sorry.

It was probably for the best, Eileen said gently. I don’t think even Grace knew your destiny, but now Link doesn’t have to bear that all by himself. He’ll be alright.

Link swallowed. It gets worse. It gets… bad. I don’t want to hurt you.

“I’m your mama, sweetheart,” Eileen said, only just loud enough for Link to hear. “I’ll feel best if I can help you.”

Link’s eyes stung with the threat of tears, and he pressed his forehead to the pillar again, willing them away, and thought- what he wouldn’t have given to have that… anytime over the last year. Anytime over the last two years.

When he thought he could do it without crying, he looked up again and said meekly, I don’t know what to call him.

Link will do you both fine. Like a little brother with the same name.

Link swallowed hard. He hadn’t even thought about that. If he had to give up his name on top of everything else he’d lost…

Not him, he said instead. I don’t know what to call you either.

Eileen’s expression shuttered with sadness, but she just answered, He’d be happy if you called him Dad, but you don’t have to. Neither of us have sign names though. We all use ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’.

E-l-o-i-s-e and M-a-r-i-a-n-a. I don’t know their sign names either. I don’t know which is which.

E-l-o-i-s-e is my oldest, Eileen said gently. Her name is signed like this. She made the sign for ‘flower’, positioned at her head where you might tuck a flower into your hair. M-a-r-y is the youngest girl, her namesign is the outline of her birthmark.

M-a-r-y. M-a-r-y. Link let his head fall against the pillar again, miserable. Mary. Not Mariana. I really think I should go.

Please don’t, you’ve been so sweet, Eileen coaxed, oddly intent. Stay for dinner, you did promise. And come down so I can hug you. It’s far, far overdue.

Link hesitated, staring down at her, and then gave in. He slipped off the rafter, hitting the floor with a light ‘thud’, then stopped uncertainly. She gave him plenty of warning before she hugged him, but within a couple of seconds her arms were wrapped tightly around him.

Link even let himself lean into it for a moment before he carefully tugged away, skittish and uncertain, and darted back down the ladder.

Eloise, he could tell, had herded everyone to the dinner table; he could see Grace still leaning close to Little Link, doing something to make him giggle, and Mary had her sharp eyes fixed on a harried-looking Selwyn. Eloise had the platter of finished meat pies, and was setting the rest of the table.

“-didn’t give us those knives for no reason,” Mary was saying to Selwyn, intent and shrewd. “I knew there was something you weren’t saying, but Mom insisted we leave it alone-”

“Yes, for a reason,” Selwyn said wearily, reaching up to rub his forehead. Mary looked unsympathetic.

Link grunted before she could press, catching both their attention, and met Selwyn’s eyes the best he could. Selwyn even looked apologetic. Why?

This explains why you wouldn’t fight me properly, Link offered, trying to smile, and then, more solemnly, …I’m sorry for telling you the lizalfos story. I didn’t think it would be personal.

Selwyn waved it off, expression softening. It certainly helped me understand.

Link shuffled uncomfortably, but Eileen passed behind him and ushered him into one of the chairs, and in a few more minutes they were all seated, digging into the messy meat pies. A glance told Link that his younger self had cheered up a bit, and also had already gotten honey gravy smeared over most of one cheek. The corner of Link’s mouth twitched.

Mary continued to pester Selwyn between bites, leaving the man looking increasingly stressed and Eileen more than a little sympathetic. Every so often, Eloise would translate one of the questions to Grace, who would fidget and try not to look too worried herself.

“But where did he come from and why were you there?”

“Does it have to do with the Calamity? Was he summoned or something?”

“Have you learned anything? Is it bad, is that why this is happening?”

Finally, Link waved to catch Selwyn’s attention and signed, It’s okay if you want to explain.

Selwyn held his gaze for a moment; his eyes, Link realized, were a shade or two off Eileen’s, and Link wondered which of them he was more like. Finally, Selwyn sighed, wiping his hands off on a cloth napkin before he nodded. Mary stopped asking questions.

This is extraordinarily secret, Selwyn warned, meeting the eyes of each person in turn, making sure they were paying attention. You’re to speak of this as little as possible. He waited for at least a few nods before continuing, and even Little Link was paying close attention. A few days ago, the king went to the goddess for guidance. After he finished praying, Link arrived. He’s been course-correcting based on what went wrong in his own timeline.

Mary’s expression had dimmed from determined to faintly wary, and she shot Link a questioning look. He shrugged.

Pyrrhic victory would be being pretty generous, he said wearily, avoiding looking at any of them. A few days before I went through the door of time, I was offered the chance to make things right. And I took it.

We underestimated the power and cunning of the Calamity, Selwyn continued, thankfully taking the attention off Link. It’s not a mistake King Rhoam intends to make again.

How badly? Eileen asked, looking more exhausted than afraid.

He’s going to have the royal guards’ training regimen redesigned from scratch, Selwyn said wryly. We’ll be going over it with Link sometime in the next few days.

Little Link started, shooting Link a wide-eyed look, and Link himself just wrinkled his nose dubiously. I’m eighteen years old and from a Hyrule without a standing army. I don’t know anything about training. How does he think I can help?

Selwyn chuckled softly. It won’t all be on you. Mostly we’re discussing reworking the standards we use. They clearly aren’t high enough at the moment. A moment of consideration, his fingers tapping on the table, and he added, We might need to make some adjustments to equipment as well. Asher tells me you’ve picked up brewing.

To Link’s surprise, Eloise perked up, turning curious eyes on him. How deep?

After a moment, Link recalled that Grace had said Eloise worked as an alchemist and smiled a little. He considered, and then said, I found lynel liver makes a strength elixir fit to shatter boulders, but it gives even me a nasty stomachache so no one else should drink it. And talus gravel makes a defense elixir that can stand up to a molduga, but unless you mix it with chu jelly it’s impossible to get down.

Eloise looked visibly excited, starting to lean forward to interrogate him further, but Eileen, looking fondly exasperated, interrupted, Not at the dinner table. You can talk about potions later.

She huffed but sat back again obediently, picking at her meat pie again, and Grace, finished with hers, glanced at Link, then pointedly at his younger self, met his eyes again and asked, Do you have any funny stories from the future?

Link caught on easily enough, softening a little to give her a small smile, and then caught Little Link’s attention.

Do you want to hear about the world’s worst cook, Warbler’s Nest, or the gut check brothers? he asked the younger.

Little Link fidgeted a little, and Link understood why Grace had been so pointed; he didn’t know what his younger self’s usual state of mind was, but Link thought he still looked subdued.

Gut check brothers, Little Link said at last, and Link smiled, took a bite of his food, and started to explain.

You don’t have to walk me back, Link said to Selwyn, a little bemused.

Selwyn shrugged and smiled a little. Humor me.

Link cocked his head, examining the man for a moment, and then let it go. For a few minutes they walked towards the castle in silence, the light of the moon only just enough to see by. Selwyn looked content with this, keeping the same attentive eye on their surroundings that Link did, a sword on his back even out of uniform.

Why didn’t you say anything? Link asked eventually, when he’d had enough.

Selwyn was quiet for a bit, seeming to take the time to mull it over, and finally replied, I didn’t want to take the choice away from you. You knew I was nearby. I thought that if you’d wanted to know, you would have asked someone.

Link didn’t reply at first, because it was true. He’d wanted to decide what he was going to do before he knew where his father was – for all the good that had done him in the end.

It was difficult to avoid people when you didn’t know who they were.

But you still went out of your way for me? Link said at last, belatedly tacking on an inquisitive tilt of his head. Selwyn actually chuckled.

I was worried about you, the man said honestly, a touch of odd self-recrimination in his expression. I didn’t think it was right for you to be all alone.

That’s what Asher said too.

Asher is a good friend. Selwyn huffed a little, flicking his hair out of his face, and then asked, Did you know that you knew your destiny as a child? At Link’s look, he explained, Mom told me. She said you were very gentle with our little boy.

Link’s face heated up in faint embarrassment, and he answered quickly, I didn’t know, no. I felt what it meant before I knew it consciously, too, but there were a lot of things I recognized with my heart and not my head when I first woke up. And I wanted to make sure he knew he didn’t have to be afraid of it.

Doesn’t he? Selwyn asked grimly, and glanced with significance at the exposed scarring of Link’s shoulder. Link had to resist the urge to cover it.

I didn’t say it was safe, Link said, a little defensively. But I was never going to be anything else but this, and neither is he. Destiny is not a command. It’s a path that leads him exactly where he was always going to go.

Link’s relationship with his nature had always been easier than Zelda’s.

Selwyn’s next look lingered long enough for Link to flush again, self-conscious, but the man didn’t look doubtful or exasperated. He looked surprised, and maybe even proud, a hint of a smile on his mouth.

You’ve grown up well, Selwyn said. Have you spent a lot of time thinking about this?

Link shrugged, cheeks still warm. He’d had a lot of time to think about things in the wild. Sorry.

What for? Link didn’t answer, and after a minute, Selwyn stopped. Link stopped too, turning towards him with a small frown. They were almost at the castle. Link.

Link tensed a little, hands rising to his stomach to cross over him almost protectively. Selwyn looked tired, his eyes serious in the dim moonlight, and he turned to face Link with a solemn expression that seemed to… to run in the family.

I know you’ve changed, Selwyn said evenly, not breaking Link’s gaze. I know memory loss and battle have changed you, and the circumstances are strange, and it’ll take time for all of us to adjust to those changes. But you’re still my son and you still have a place with us if you want it. We’ll make it work.

Link took a deep breath, slow and careful. Just like that?

Just like that, Selwyn said firmly.

Link wasn’t sure what feeling it was that welled up in response to that, but he thought it was longing. Okay.

Link had spent a long time alone. He’d even enjoyed most of it, the independence and the freedom. Families, communities, were things that other people had and that Link protected.

But the ache of something missing was a too-familiar companion, and Link got so, so tired of it.

In the Hallowell home, serious talks usually went on in the attic; it was about as secluded from the rest of the house as any room got and had a large window to keep it from feeling too confining, and, as a bonus, Link in particular usually felt more comfortable there.

This was a blessing when the slight boy came in already looking downcast, his hands clasped behind his back and his feet shuffling in place as soon as he was up off the ladder.

Selwyn leaned down, pulled the folding ladder up, and latched the door firmly shut before he turned around, quietly disinviting the other children from this conversation. He had to hide a smile at Mary’s muffled swearing, but it quickly faded when he turned around again.

“You aren’t in trouble, Link,” Selwyn said quietly, drawing the boy’s uncertain eyes up to his. He crossed the room to kneel in front of Link, gesturing subtly for Eileen to sit kitty-corner – no need to make feel Link feel outnumbered, but they both needed to be there.

Link crossed his arms and huffed softly, taking a shuffled step back and then forward, restless and uneasy.

Selwyn took a moment to consider him, watching his shadowed eyes and guilty posture and silently matching it to his earlier conversation with the older incarnation of the boy.

Eileen had relayed what the two boys had said to each other, weary and worried and clearly undecided on what to make of it all, and between the two of them they had shot down most of the easy openers – ‘why didn’t you say anything,’ ‘how did you know,’ ‘you do know you can tell us anything.’ All of them were too generic to be really helpful in a situation like this.

What did you think of your older self? was what they had settled on and what Selwyn’s hands spelled out, just off-center enough to be unthreatening. It clearly started Link, his eyes going briefly wide and the tension dropping out of his shoulders.

Link cocked his head, unwavering eyes on Selwyn’s, and then answered slowly, He said he was Grace’s age. Selwyn nodded. Link held his gaze, unsmiling and steady. He seemed older.

Grace is very sheltered, Eileen offered, scooting forward to be a little more within Link’s line of sight. Honey Candy has lived through different times, likely much harder ones, and you’ve always been mature for your age.

Honey Candy? Link echoed blankly, squinting at Eileen. Eileen blushed.

It’s what Grace started calling him, she admitted. Nothing else has felt quite right. She waved her hand, dismissing it, while Selwyn chuckled. What else?

Link stomped one foot, then the other. He seemed faithful. Like. Religious. He stuck his tongue out. I guess it makes sense, I just hadn’t thought about it that way. He hesitated, not looking at either of them, and tacked on uncertainly, I think he’s thought about all of it a lot more than I have.

That was their cue.

He has, Selwyn said, as gentle as if to drop a pebble in a pond without making a splash. We talked about it a little on the way to the castle. He said he knew it in his heart before he did in his head.

Link dropped down off his feet, hitting the ground with a bump and a grunt. I guess, he signed uncertainly, cheeks still colored pink with mixed embarrassment and anxiety. Pressed the end of one braid into his mouth and chewed, and for once Eileen didn’t scold him. Did he say, did he say if he did a good job?

He looked so unsure that Selwyn didn’t even think about it before he leaned down and signed, quick and conspiratorial, He beat every member of the royal guard in a day without taking a single scratch.

Link blinked at him, wide-eyed and surprised, the chewed braid flopping out of his mouth. Selwyn leaned back again and grinned at him, and Eileen took over, amused.

Talk of our visitor aside, she said carefully, making Link stiffen up guiltily again, I couldn’t help but notice that you were remarkably unsurprised by what he told you. It’s okay, you’re not in trouble. But I wonder why you didn’t talk to Dad and I when you were so clearly worried.

Link reached up to tug on his braid, squirming in place, and took several long moments to answer. Both parents waited him out patiently, and his eyes darted anxiously between them like he was hoping one of them would call it off.

Neither of them did.

I thought that as long as I didn’t say anything, nothing would happen yet, Link admitted at last, with a refusal to look at either of them that just projected embarrassment. Like his childishness was something to be ashamed of. If I pretended like I didn’t know, then no one else would either, and I’d have more time. I’m not really big enough to hold a good sword yet.

Eileen managed to react first, reaching down to take one of Link’s hands in hers and squeeze gently. “You don’t have to do anything right now, sweetheart. You heard us at dinner earlier, didn’t you?” Link cocked his head uncertainly. “Link is planning on helping as much as he can, and the royal guard is training even harder just to make sure they can too. You’ll have all the time you need to grow up.”

Link took a deep breath and nodded rapidly, looking just a touch overwrought, and Eileen smiled (that kind little reassurance that had made Selwyn fall in love) and added,

“And we all know now. So whenever you’re worried, you can come to us just like you always do, okay?” Link bit his lip. “Is there something you want to say?”

…Can I sleep with you tonight? Link asked meekly.

Was there a chance in the world that Selwyn was ever going to say no to that?

Chapter Text

It was probably the events of the last day that made Link’s feelings so complicated while he waited for the Sheikah to arrive. Still preoccupied with the stilted but oddly sincere affection he’d been met with, he couldn’t bring himself to focus on the practical reasons why he’d asked for them.

He was closer to Robbie and Purah than to anyone else in this time except Zelda, but he was well aware that, unlike with Zelda, those relationships would be difficult to rebuild. In his time, much of the attention they’d paid to him had been out of guilt, the silently shared trauma of the day they’d saved his life. Without that tie, he wasn’t sure he could gain enough of a foothold to become friends again.

…He thought they’d be happier for it, though.

They arrived in the late morning, while Link was still sorting through the alchemy notes he’d logged into his Sheikah slate, figuring out what was worth transcribing to give to the castle laboratory. He didn’t consider himself a researcher, not like Robbie or Purah or Zelda, but weeks and weeks spent trying out different combinations of monster parts and critters had to be worth something. His Zelda had been very impressed, at least.

One of the research assistants came to get him when they arrived, fidgeting nervously and jumping when he looked up before they’d even spoken. But their voice was steady when they explained, “The Sheikah scientists have arrived, Master Link.”

That was something he’d been struggling to get used to: nearly everyone in the castle treated him with the same deference that most of the Sheikah in his own time had. It was… strange, and a little discomfiting.

He closed the notebook he’d borrowed and dissolved it into his slate, nodding at the assistant in thanks, and got up to follow them.

The castle’s alchemy lab was a busy place; the ancient tech lab was still in the process of being built, he’d found, with so little of it dug up. Most of the research took place here.

(He could see Eloise working, part of a small cluster of ruffled-looking researchers, diligently taking notes while they argued around her.)

Link didn’t recognize any of the three people the research assistant led him to, which he realized with a wince shouldn’t have surprised him; he wouldn’t know any of them for a hundred years, and Purah had managed to de-age herself on top of that.

Link cocked his head, flicked his fingers in a quick hello, and studied the three of them thoughtfully. The man, he assumed, had to be Robbie, a hair taller than Link was now and his shirt gaping open halfway down his chest. The older woman, hair done up in a high, neat bun, was probably Purah, because the younger had to be Impa; she looked just like Paya.

Impa was the only one to reply right away, mirroring his hello in a stilted and uncertain manner. Link inclined his head towards her respectfully.

She looked young. Maybe fourteen or fifteen, holding herself stiff like she’d maybe never been in the castle before.

…So this was the Impa that he had once been friends with.

You’re Impa, aren’t you? Link prompted, spelling out the name carefully and keeping his sign slow. She nodded slowly, eyes narrowed in concentration. Have you met Zelda? Shook her head. She should be in the library this time of day. Introduce yourself and tell her that I said you’d be good friends.

Impa bit her lip, staring at him uncertainly, and then, after a beat, nodded once, drew herself up to bounce on the balls of her feet, and then nodded again, more firmly. Without a word, she turned around and darted off like he’d sent her on a mission, and he stared after her for a moment before he finally turned back to the other two.

Purah snorted. “Not great at forethought, are you?” she mused, crossing her arms idly. Link cocked an eyebrow at her, and she stuck out her tongue. “Robbie and I don’t know sign. Never had time for it.”

Link blinked, startled. Both of them had known sign well in his time.

They must have learned in the interim. He… wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

After a moment, he shook his head and waved it off, and turned and beckoned them to follow him to a secluded table. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were following, just in time to watch them exchange weary, exasperated looks, and barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

It wasn’t impossible to get by without spoken words – though it was much easier in this time than in his own, with how many more people knew sign – but he did actually have a fallback.

He hadn’t learned the full story until he rescued Zelda, but Purah, a hundred years ago, had found an audio recording and text-to-speech function in the Sheikah slate not long after Link had finally started to break through Zelda’s walls. Zelda had immediately thought of Link, and between the two of them, Zelda and Purah had managed to piece together what they called a communication rune.

Zelda had spent weeks and weeks recording useful words and phrases when they first put it together, and Link had updated it with Sidon’s help towards the beginning of his journey. They’d updated it again while Zelda was bedridden and looking for things to do.

He’d need to add to it again soon, when he had a better idea of what he’d need in this time. He wondered who he could ask to help him.

Link set the Sheikah slate on the table, amused to note the abrupt spark of interest on both scientists’ faces, and tapped through the categories until the Sheikah slate spoke in Zelda’s voice.

“I can speak with my Sheikah slate. It takes some time to choose all of my words, but I can communicate effectively.”

His only warning was the spark of glee in Purah’s eyes before she snatched the Sheikah slate up, turning it this way and that as she examined it. He clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the way his chest tightened in the beginnings of panic, and waited for her to finish touching it, exploring the interface and making excited noises.

“This is definitely Sheikah tech, not something I’ve ever seen before but the pattern is unmistakable – probably late era too, hardly anything we’ve come across is this compact, where did you get it? Was that Zelda’s voice? It sounded a bit like her! That’s fascinating, it sounded like a perfect recording-”

She looked up to meet Link’s unamused eyes, and he held his hand out silently. She looked down at the slate in her hands, and then surrendered a put-upon sigh before she handed it back. Link’s chest unknotted.

He didn’t set it down this time before he tapped around for a few minutes more, and then said, “Zelda recorded most of the communication rune for me. Purah arranged the majority of the Sheikah slate’s programming. I’m not sure where the Sheikah slate was found but it was recovered with the rest of the ancient technology.”

“That last sentence was stilted,” Robbie noted with interest, and suddenly he and Purah were both almost right on top of Link, looking at the slate while he still held it. It was almost familiar, in spirit if not in reality. “What made that one different?”

Link set the slate down reluctantly, keeping his hand on it, and showed them the introductions category, then tapped ‘name’. “My name is Link.” He paused, then navigated to a selection of single words, which he used to cobble together a sentence. “Not every sentence I need is here. When I pick words not phrases then the recording is not smooth.”

“Fascinating,” Robbie and Purah murmured in unison, and then shot each other accusing looks. Link smiled a little.

He sat down and gestured for them to do the same, and, their interest seemingly caught, they obeyed. The rest of the lab gave them a wide berth, which suited Link fine; this explanation would take time and concentration, and keeping these two focused was difficult at the best of times.

“How much was explained already,” Link asked them, Zelda’s voice hitching and pausing awkwardly around the makeshift sentence.

Robbie leaned back and crossed his arms, eerily like Purah when she’d criticized Link earlier. “Not very much,” he said offhandedly, tilting his head as if to study Link anew. “How you arrived and when you’re from, mostly. We weren’t told about why you called for us, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Link wasn’t, but that didn’t matter very much; Robbie had told him what he needed to know, which was that both of them knew the circumstances. He spent a few more minutes putting his words together, and then said, “You were the foremost experts in ancient technology in my time. I have materials. I want you to study them.”

Both of them perked up, and Link really did smile this time.

“You get those last,” he warned, snorting as they scowled at him in unison. They really were too alike. “I know you. You won’t listen after. Other notes first.”

Then he ran them through the different functions of the slate: the magnesis and cryonis and stasis runes, the storage capacity, the camera and the compendium and the Sheikah sensor. It felt weird to be teaching them instead of the other way around, but he was sure that it wouldn’t last long.

Link stopped short when he reached the map, and frowned at it for a moment.

“What is it?” Robbie asked, unexpectedly attentive. Link glanced up at him with surprise, and then flicked through the slate.

“I need a map for this time,” he explained.

Without missing a beat, Purah gestured, and within a minute or two a research assistant had appeared as if summoned.

“Got a map?” she asked casually, and the researcher all but saluted.

“It will take but a moment to fetch one, ma’am.”

Purah winked at Link when she caught him staring. “You’re not as much of a meathead as I thought you’d be,” she said casually, leaning over to look at the map. “The king usually likes to just dump a task in our laps and tell us to get on with it.”

Link shrugged. “We were friends in my time. I know how much you put in your work. You spent a lot of time on it.”

“Well, the magic doesn’t come easy!” Purah said cheerfully. “What was my current project last you saw me, huh? Was it something cool?”

Link bit down a smile. “You tried to create a make young rune and made yourself six.”

Purah paused, visible embarrassment flashing across her face, and then said, “I guess it worked, then!” Link nodded. “Where was Robbie in that? It’s usually Robbie’s job to keep me from experimenting on myself. Or Impa’s.”

“With limited success,” Robbie muttered, and tried to spy on Link as he was formulating his answer. Link waved him off without even looking.

“Robbie lives in Akkala. He created weapons out of ancient parts. I brought some with me.” He paused, considered, and then added, “They are good weapons. I want you to recreate them.”

“For your sake I hope you brought multiple samples,” Purah said dryly, and then looked surprised when Link nodded. “Wow, okay.”

“You have low standards,” Link told her.

“You have no idea the garbage we deal with on a daily basis,” Robbie snorted.

It was at that point that the assistant reappeared, bearing a map, and Link patted at the two scientists until they made room for it, grumbling. He moved the Sheikah slate to an out-of-the-way corner, and then grabbed for a pen, where he started to mark things by hand.

He started with the Sheikah towers, marking each one with an X.

“There are Sheikah towers in these locations,” he explained. “If you find a Sheikah slate you will only need to dig up one. The rest will rise out of the ground when it is activated. They analyze the land and make a map.” He gestured to his own slate. “This will also activate shrines. Shrines are used by the hero to gain power. I have finished mine but the current hero will need them.”

“Good Hylia, I should have been taking notes this whole time,” Purah complained, and then snapped her fingers until someone brought her a notebook and pencil. Link rolled his eyes. “Are most of those icons shrines? Are you going to mark them out too?”

Link shook his head. “Finding shrines is a sacred task. The current hero will do it.”

“Hylians,” Purah muttered. Robbie hummed in vague agreement.

“Was that all? Do we get to play with materials now?” he demanded, audibly impatient. Link huffed, amused, and shook his head.

He marked out two more locations, the Akkala Lab and the Hateno Lab, this time with circles. “These were your labs. There is special power in these places. You did not explain. But if you found it once you can again.”

“Oh, good, I love wild goose chases,” Robbie complained. Link huffed at him, and Robbie huffed back. “Don’t give me that look. I’ll complain if I damn well want to.”

“Don’t be childish, Robbie,” Purah said haughtily, which Link thought was rather rich coming from her. He smiled again, but it quickly faded as he contemplated the last point of his map.

With great reluctance, he marked out one last location, the Shrine of Resurrection, with a small star. He spent a long time typing out his explanation, and the longer he took, the deeper Purah and Robbie began to frown.

“This is the Shrine of Resurrection,” he explained. “It is a chamber of healing that can heal someone from nearly dead. It puts them to sleep. In it I slept for one hundred years. I woke up with no memory. You will use it in an emergency. I do not want to go back in there. Do not put me back in there. I know you will not listen if ordered otherwise. I do not want to go back in there. I would rather die.”

He felt a little bad for how disturbed Purah and Robbie both looked by the time the slate stopped playing. But not enough to regret having made himself clear.

Link never wanted to come back from the dead again.

Robbie looked at Purah. Purah looked at Robbie. Purah looked back at Link, opened her mouth, closed it, and then said bravely, “How well did it heal you? I mean, physically.”

Link had never been more grateful for her laser focus.

“I went in with severe cursed burns on the majority of my body,” he tapped out. “I have good not perfect range of motion and can use all weapons effectively. I am physically weaker than I was before. I am always in pain. I am frequently tired. I do not know how much of my recovery is because of blessings from Hylia.”

As much as Purah looked conflicted, it was equally clear that her fascination was dominating that conflict by far. It made Link feel strangely affectionate. Purah was very predictable.

“It doesn’t guarantee complete recovery, then, that’s good to know,” Purah murmured. “It’d be useful to have before and after images, but I’m sure in a crisis we didn’t have time for that, did we?” Link shook his head. “Shame. Did you recover further after you left the shrine?”

Link considered, and then wiggled his hand a little. “I learned to adapt. I regained the enhancements I’d lost. Different.” Considered further, and then tacked on, watching Purah snap her mouth shut out of the corner of his eye, “Before I was blessed my stamina and resilience were very low. Lower than typical. If I had remained that strong I would have died quickly.”

Purah hummed a few times, scribbling that down, or something like it. “Good to know. Probably not useful for most anyone else then, unless they had much less severe injuries to begin with.”

Link did his best not to react, and glanced over to Robbie, who was frowning at him again, brow wrinkled. When he caught Link’s eye, Robbie said slowly, “The odds of you dying right by the Shrine of Resurrection are…”

He didn’t finish the thought. Link hesitated, and Purah looked at him too, both of them frowning at him. Link felt a little cornered.

“I fell at Fort Hateno,” he surrendered at last, reserved. “The two of you took me to the shrine from there. It took a day and I stopped breathing twice.” He glanced at Purah. “You hit me with yellow chu jelly and it worked. You should tell a doctor.”

“Uh, yeah,” Purah said, uncharacteristically quiet. She looked unsettled. Link winced and repressed the urge to apologize for mentioning it.

“Well, you’re doing a good job of making me sound like a useless lump!” Robbie said, with forced indignation. Link smiled a little, relaxing, and tapped out his response idly; they’d been good about waiting for him to finish.

“You held off pursuit. It was mostly guardians. It took strength. Do you want to see parts and weapons now.”

“Yes,” they both said in unison, with enough passion that it betrayed their relief as well. He smiled a little, navigated through the slate, and started to release the items he’d been holding in reserve.

First came the raw ancient parts, each one released in a constant stream into one of a few waiting containers. He’d had about a day’s warning before coming to this era, and he’d spent a lot of that time hunting guardians in preparation for this encounter. Under the circumstances, he figured the parts would be a lot more useful in Robbie and Purah’s hands than his own, and he poured out every single one.

In total: about five hundred ancient screws, a hundred and eighty springs, three hundred gears, seventy shafts, fifty regular cores, and four giant ancient cores.

Robbie and Purah looked like kids in a candy store. He almost cooed at them.

The weapons, he was more reserved with; he never felt safe without at least a couple, even with his sword on hand, even in a time that shouldn’t have any infected guardians. He had fifty ancient arrows, and he gave them twenty; shamelessly, he told them he had ten more if they needed, but no more than that.

Then came the more complicated ones: one by one, he set out three ancient bows, three ancient shields, two short swords, and two spears, leaving himself with just one of each of those things. (He figured Robbie would invent the bladesaw on his own anyway. Link had never had much use for it, but it was a very Robbie-style weapon.)

With reluctance, and a long moment of consideration, he even added his only set of ancient armor: the helm, the cuirass, the greaves.

“I will want that back,” he warned. “Please be careful with it.”

Purah’s delighted cackle was not promising.

For the next several minutes, he just watched them play with the new toys, faintly amused. He expected them to ask how they were used – ancient weapons had a bit of a learning curve – but neither of them did, and he even had to stop Robbie from firing an ancient arrow at a wall with one of the bows. Even just the thought of that waste made Link want to throw up.

Finally, Robbie pressed a button on one of the spears, made a delighted sound when it lit up, let it go to watch it turn off, and… looked at Link.

“Now, not that I’m not extremely excited to play with these,” he said, going from audibly thrilled to oddly cautious. “But I’m curious why you’re so determined to get access to weapons that are clearly going to be extraordinarily difficult to get a hold of in this time. Are they truly that useful?”

Link tapped his fingers against the table for a few seconds, and then reached for his slate. Both of them waited.

“Weapons made with ancient parts are extremely effective against guardians,” he explained at last. “If the Calamity is able to revive the guardians then we need to be able to destroy them. We have no other chance.”

Robbie frowned at him, bristling in the start of indignation. “What makes you so sure they’d be Hyrule’s downfall?” he demanded. “They’re meant to be our salvation – and yours too, thank you very much!”

He’d captured a few pictures while he was hunting, expecting this question. Link navigated to the photo album, and then turned it to show them.

The remains of Castle Town, most of the guardians still active and pacing its remains. The sealed entrance to the Great Plateau, strewn with the corpses of guardians. The ruins of Akkala Citadel.

Robbie went dead pale, even as Purah’s expression held steady. Link nodded anyway.

“Guardians killed me,” he said, too calmly for his rapidly beating heart. “They destroyed Hyrule. Do not take them lightly.”

Link was exhausted.

There was something lonely about reteaching Robbie and Purah what they had realized a long time ago by the time he woke up.

Chapter Text

After he finished talking to Robbie and Purah, Link went to go check on Zelda and Impa, intending to pop in and back out again; the castle was starting to feel confining, and he wanted to retreat to the roof again. Somehow the visit to Castle Town just hadn’t had the effect he’d originally intended.

But when he found them, he was surprised to discover that they weren’t getting along at all.

Oh, they weren’t fighting – Zelda was too well-mannered, Impa too nervous, and neither of them angry. They were both wary instead, sitting more than an arm’s length apart at the table, Impa scribbling out some spell tags and Zelda with a bestiary open in front of her, neither of them actually paying attention to what they were doing.

Confused, Link sat down across from Zelda, smiling a little when her gaze instantly snapped to him, eyes wide and delighted.

“Link!” she exclaimed, and then dropped her book and started signing just as Impa looked over too. I started looking up the properties of frogs because you mentioned them, did you know that there are also frogs that can keep you from getting tired and some that might help you sleep and one that might-

Her sign started to fall apart, becoming slow and faltering the longer she rambled, and eventually she just showed him the book and started chattering aloud, too excited to struggle with it. Link leaned over and listened indulgently, nodding along as she pointed out careful sketches printed on each page, frogs and then lizards and then snakes and fish and snails.

Link hadn’t made an elixir from a snake before. He would have to try sometime.

Zelda finally ran out of breath and pages, and looked at Link hopefully, eyes sparkling with delight. He let himself smile back, warm and fond and tired, and offered, Most Hyrulean foods have similar properties. It’s not as useful for battle prep as elixirs, since it’s inconvenient to have to wolf down a whole meal for the full effect, but it’s good for when you know you have a big day ahead of you. He tilted his head towards Impa without actually looking at her. Kakariko has some specialties.

It had the intended effect; Zelda turned her curious eyes on Impa, who started a little, looking unsure. But after a moment, she nodded. “Yeah, Kakariko…” She trailed off, sighed, and then restarted, My village grows mainly swift carrots and tough pumpkins. They have speed and defense properties in turn. And blue nightshade and endura carrots grow near the fairy fountain. Those are good for stealth and endurance.

Her sign was slow and stilted, but good. Link wondered why she knew it, but not Purah or Robbie. Was she being groomed as Zelda’s advisor already?

Have you visited the fairy fountain? Zelda asked eagerly, and it occurred to Link that Zelda might be too young to have visited any of them; Tera and Mija were both quite far from any easily accessible points, and Cotera was really more a Sheikah spirit than anything. That left Kaysa, who was a considerable climb up from the path.

Impa nodded, fiddled with one of her spell tags, and then said, Just the one above my village. Not the others.

Zelda looked over at Link, curious, and Link nodded at her, warmth flickering through him. There’s Cotera above Kakariko, Tera deep in the Gerudo Desert, Mija a long hike from South Akkala Stable, and Kaysa across from Nero Hill. I’ve found them all to be kind and helpful. Tera is a little silly, Kaysa is very flirtatious, and Mija is aloof. Cotera is easiest to get along with. All of them are powerful and talented; I go to them to enchant my clothing for protection.

Can I see? Zelda asked eagerly, and Link didn’t even hesitate before he flicked through his slate, carefully withdrew the diamond circlet that had belonged to the older Zelda, and gave it to her.

She handled it carelessly, turning it this way and that with avid curiosity, examining it from every angle. The diamonds shimmered in the light, casting little sparkles on Zelda’s face, and even Impa leaned to look closer, inhaling sharply when she got within a couple feet.

“It makes my fingers tingle,” Zelda said at last, wonder filling her voice. Link smiled a little when she looked at him.

That’s the magic, he assured her. Your diamond circlet and mine are two of the most powerful protective wards I have. You can keep that one, if you like. It’ll protect you even when Impa and I aren’t around.

He should start working on some for his younger self and his siblings. Maybe his mother too. And ask if the royal guard uniform provided enough protection, and- Link had to force himself to stop before he worked himself up. Just because they didn’t have the same armor he did didn’t mean they were vulnerable.

Impa shot him a brief, startled look, and he paused for a moment, catching up, and then shrugged, briefly abashed when he realized the problem; he was maybe getting ahead of himself.

Did you and I share bodyguard duty? Impa asked him, slow and hesitant.

No, Link said shortly, still not turning towards her. As he watched, Zelda turned the circlet over one more time, and then held it out to him shyly.

“Can you put this on for me, please?”

Link took it and leaned forward, carefully nestling the circlet into place in such a way that it didn’t unsettle her neatly styled hair. Practice made the movement easy, even after all this time; his Zelda hadn’t really worn it when she was bedridden, but she had loved it while she could still go out, and he’d never gotten out of the habit of doing her hair for her.

When he did glance over, Impa was just wiping the startled look off her face, transforming it into something not quite offended enough to hide the hurt. He tilted his head, considering her, and repressed the urge to sigh.

I don’t remember you at this age, but I’m told we were friends, Link said at last, meeting Impa’s eyes evenly. For the first time, he became conscious of how difficult it was to bring up anything but a vaguely leaden feeling when he looked at her. But I didn’t know you until you were much older, after I woke from the Shrine of Resurrection. We didn’t spend much time together then.

But you said we’d be good friends? Zelda questioned, only reluctantly dropping her hand from where she was touching the gold leaf of the circlet in wonder.

Link leaned down, gave her a small smile, and nodded solemnly. Impa as I knew her cared for you very much, he promised Zelda. After a hundred years of waiting, the first thing she did when she saw me again was tell me to save you.

Zelda’s eyes glimmered with surprise and awe, and she looked at Impa like she was just seeing her for the first time. Impa, on the other hand, looked like a deer caught in the headlights, looking not at Zelda but at Link.

She looked like she was just starting to understand something.

“Can you tell me more about Kakariko?” Zelda all but begged, scooting closer to the older girl and drawing her attention back down. Impa hesitated for just a moment, glancing between Zelda and Link, and then finally looked down at Zelda and started to answer.

Link held back a sigh of relief and stood up to slip out the door. He needed a break before he met with the royal guard again, or he’d jitter out of his skin.

The guards’ chambers had been completely cleared in preparation for the evening’s meeting; the king certainly wasn’t wasting any time in taking advantage of their visitor from the future. He’d even spared the entire senior squad of the royal guard, all nine of the most skilled members of the contingent.

Selwyn also recognized three of the most skilled blacksmiths in Castle Town, each one with a long history of supplying for the guard, and a couple of retirees who had never quite withdrawn from duty.

Link, of course, was not in a position to recognize any of these people, though he kept a careful eye on all of them from where he’d opted to perch on the railing rather than at the table; Selwyn had to repress the irrational urge to go over and pull him off it. He looked a little too skittish to respond well, and he still hadn’t looked directly at Selwyn. He’d even pulled up his hood, tugging anxiously at the hem. It looked like a lot of his flightier traits hadn’t faded with age at all.

Cedric, as the oldest of the guard, had taken on the responsibility of explaining the current selection process and training regimen. Link didn’t appear to be listening, but when Cedric glanced over to catch Selwyn’s eye, he nodded; Link was following along, his eyes focused on the middle distance and a frown tugging at his mouth.

“New guards are pulled directly from the ranks by the king himself,” Cedric explained, adjusting his cap as he mulled the issue over. “It’s common for one of the royal guards or a captain to direct his attention to a promising candidate, but King Rhoam always picks the initiates himself. If they can prove they’ve killed a black hinox and a talus without the help of a group, they’re admitted to the guard.”

Selwyn hadn’t had to do that; the story of the lynel that had taken out every man in his unit save for him had already spread by the time he was nominated. The king himself had said that a man who could kill a lynel alone didn’t need to prove himself further.

Is there a set number of royal guards? Link asked, his eyes focused on one of the targets on the wall. One of his feet kicked gently, swaying back and forth. Selwyn had to push down a fond smile.

Cedric nodded. “Thirty-three – nine elite and four junior squads of six. At that level, the senior guards mainly train among themselves and the junior guards are trained further by the senior. It’s primarily sparring, but it’s expected that there are noticeable improvements from month to month.”

Link hummed and nodded, and then remained quiet, staring at the ground, for long enough that Selwyn realized that he was struggling to figure out where to go from there.

He cleared his throat, and when Link’s eyes darted up to his, he smiled gently and, keeping his voice low, explained, “It seemed to me that the area most in need of improvement is raw skill, rather than equipment or power. You mentioned some trials to King Rhoam when you first arrived. Were they any of those that pushed your combat skills higher?”

Link tilted his head, contemplative, though he didn’t look away from Selwyn.

(Selwyn tried not to notice how much more uncertain he looked now that he knew who Selwyn was.)

Most of my trials were focused on testing my problem-solving abilities, rather than combat, Link said hesitantly. That was fascinating; it was far from what Selwyn would have expected from the tests set before the hero. But there was Eventide.

“Eventide?” Selwyn prompted patiently. “That’s an island in the southeast, isn’t it?”

Link nodded. Monk Korgu Chideh put their trial there. The first time I went there, all of my supplies – my weapons, my armor, my food and elixirs, everything except my Sheikah slate – were taken away. I had to make my way through the island and bring the three Sheikah orbs to their cavities. Two were in monster camps, and one was on the belly of a hinox.

Link faltered, eyes on Selwyn’s, and then continued.

You shouldn’t tell Little Honey Nut that. It was a surprise for me, so it should be for him too.

Asher inhaled sharply, but when Selwyn glanced over his expression was already unreadable again. Selwyn looked back at Link and nodded, and Cedric broke in, leaning forward onto the table, intent and somehow much more gentle than he had been a minute ago; the byplay clearly hadn’t gone over his head.

“Can you walk us through what you did to complete the trial?” he asked. Link bit his lip, and Cedric chuckled. “It will help us understand what skills you needed, and therefore what skills we might need to imitate or compensate for.”

Link looked around slowly, perhaps just for the first time processing everyone looking at him – fourteen people in all, every one of them focused and intent. One of the retirees, Alastor, had scars scattered across his face and even one on his neck; one of the blacksmiths was a Goron, fingers and forearms chipped and cracked, not looking bothered at all by the proceedings. Another, Selwyn recognized as the woman in charge of the production of royal weaponry.

Link squirmed, kicked the railing, and then forged on ahead without looking directly at anybody.

The first thing I did was look for food and wildlife, he explained. Eventide Island is pretty rich with flora and fauna, and in a tight spot most foods have low-level healing properties even when eaten raw. I… picked up a couple tree branches, as makeshift weapons, and caught pretty much anything I could find, but what I looked for was food with strong healing, attack, or defense properties. On Eventide that was mostly durians, bananas, crabs, and porgy, and there were some lizards and truffles and radishes too.

Link was getting into his explanation now, gaze shifting around the room as if he were exploring the island all over again, and this time Selwyn didn’t bother to hide his smile. Link had always loved gathering whatever he could find. The more things changed…

Another part of his mind took mental notes: Link was placing strong emphasis on the ability to heal and to enhance his natural base abilities, more so even than he did on looking for weaponry. Not the priority Selwyn would have anticipated. He had to keep himself from looking again at what was visible of Link’s injuries.

The smallest monster camp was just three bokoblin on one of the beaches, Link continued, signing faster now, so I cleaned that out and took their weapons.

“With what?” Alastor interrupted, leaning forward with his eyes narrowed like he had a suspicion but couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Link blinked at him owlishly, taking a moment to reorient himself.

With the tree branches, Link answered at last. They were all blue bokoblin, so they were weak enough I could get away with it.

Alastor nodded, and without comment, leaned back again and gestured for Link to go on. Link flushed a little, clearly embarrassed, and fidgeted for a moment before picking the thread back up.

The next monster camp he tackled had a cooking pot, Link explained, which meant that he was able to cook the supplies he’d found into magical enhancements. There were chests with weapons, extremely limited in scope and supply, and he used those alongside the stolen monsters’ weapons. He ran out facing the hinox, which meant he had to steal one off its necklace-

“Why did the weapons keep breaking?” one of the blacksmiths cut in, frowning. “Were there only rusted or poorly made weapons on the island, as part of the challenge? To ensure you used them efficiently?”

Link wrinkled his nose. I don’t pick up rusty weapons if I can help it. Not much better than a tree branch. No, I’m just kind of rough on weapons. When I was on the road it was pretty rare for even good ones to last more than a week. He blinked, then snapped his fingers in realization. Royal guard weapons were always pretty bad too. Powerful, but brittle. Not what I would choose for even a drawn-out battle, let alone a whole mission.

The blacksmith opened his mouth, looking offended – Selwyn was almost sure now that he forged for the royal guard – and Cedric interrupted.

“We may ask you to demonstrate later. Can you finish?”

Link shrugged. There was only one more large monster camp after that. They seemed to have the best weapons, so I’d avoided it until then, but I ate some food for attack and defense and went after it with the weapons off the hinox, and that was the end of it. Putting the last sphere into place revealed Korgu Chideh’s shrine.

One of the senior guards who hadn’t spoken yet cleared his throat, holding Link’s gaze unflinchingly when Link looked at him. “Perhaps you’d consider explaining the process of taking on a monster camp alone. I confess I’ve only done it in a group.”

Link blinked, surprised again, and mulled it over for a moment before answering. You take the lookouts out first, ideally with a bow, but you can blow them off with a Korok leaf too. If they’re asleep, you sneak in and steal their weapons. Then you detonate any bomb barrels, because they’ll throw them at you if you don’t and they can do some damage. And if they were awake, you pick out any silver or gold monsters and disarm them with shock arrows, and steal their weapons. They hit too hard to risk letting them keep them.

That was apparently the end of it, and Selwyn found himself surprised; it was at once much more and much less than he might have expected. He couldn’t help the smile on his face, even when Asher kicked him under the table; Link was such a clever boy.

“Perhaps we’ve been focusing too much on power and too little on adaptability and strategy,” Cedric said contemplatively, leaning back to frown at the ceiling.

“That’s all well and good, but Link beat Selwyn in a straight fight with no tricks to it whatsoever,” Asher pointed out, arms crossed.

“No, I think he’s got the right of it,” Alastor disagreed. “You get used to doing things the same way all the time, you get stuck in a rut, have a harder time adapting or improvising. Sparring with the same people over and over, that’s the exact opposite of what Link’s trials seem to be.”

“There’s a certain ceiling of skill you can reach with only a single tactic,” the other retiree agreed. “That was a severe oversight in training; royal guards are encouraged to specialize, so they can focus on developing that skill, but we should consider rethinking that.”

“And the gathering of supplies?” one of the other guards asked dubiously. “That’s all well and good, but we don’t send our soldiers out unarmed and without rations. Might come in handy for a knight traveling alone, but it may not be relevant to us.”

The table descended into debate, and Link stayed quiet, seemingly content to listen to the back and forth, the discussions over training gauntlets and training exercises and diversity of skill over focus. Selwyn tried to keep an eye on him, but of course he was drawn into the discussion too, eagerly snapping up the wave of new ideas and possibilities.

It was almost an hour before that first wave of discussion slowed down, the well of ideas beginning to dry up, and the Goron blacksmith chose that moment to speak up, looking at Link.

“Why don’t you take this time to show us what ya meant about royal guard weapons?” he asked gruffly. “If you’re always breaking weapons anyway, it might be that they’re fine for the guard, just not for you. But we’ll see.”

Link cocked his head, considering the Goron for a moment, and then nodded and dropped off the railing. Without even taking a moment to look around, he went straight for one of the weapon racks and picked a royal guard bow off it, turned toward the wall of targets, and slipped an arrow out of his slate.

The first thing Selwyn noticed as Link nocked the arrow was that Link was pulling hard. Hard – but not so hard that Selwyn couldn’t imagine him doing it in a battle.

In rapid succession, Link fired, drew the next arrow, nocked and fired again- five times into each of the four targets over the course of less than two minutes. Just as he fired the last shot, the bow broke in his hands, and he hissed and stepped back, shaking them off. The shattered remains of the bow clattered around his feet, and he crossed his arms and turned towards them, looking no more than vaguely exasperated.

Brittle, he signed one-handed, and then went to retrieve the arrows, tucking each of them back into his slate five at a time.

…It was little things like that that reminded them of the exact circumstances Link had come from.

The royal guards’ blacksmith made a frustrated, unhappy noise, and the Goron snorted and prompted, “Demo with another bow. There’s a royal on the rack too, unless that’s just as bad.”

Link shook his head and went for it, turned back to the target wall, and repeated the demonstration; by Selwyn’s estimate this bow lasted fifteen minutes at about the same rapid rate of fire before shattering as well. When he looked over, the Goron was scowling.

“Well, that’s completely inadequate,” he complained. Link shrugged. “That one on your back any better?”

Link shook his head. The only bows sturdier than a royal are the ancient tech ones Robbie makes. I’ve given him what he needs to recreate them, but it’ll probably be a while. I like lynel bows because they’re good for landing multiple hits on large enemies. Hinoxes or taluses or guardians.

“Good for when you’re fighting them on your own,” Cedric finished for him, and Link nodded. “And when you’re not?”

Link frowned. I still wouldn’t pick a royal guard’s, honestly, not unless I had a lot on me. Too high a risk of ending up unarmed.

Selwyn and both retirees were nodding before any of them realized it, and Selwyn cleared his throat self-consciously when Link’s eyes landed on him. “And the swords?”

They all have the same problem, Link said with conviction. If you come down for a spar, I could show you.

Selwyn nodded, rising to his feet, and most of the rest all went to the railing to watch as Link took a royal guard’s broadsword off the rack and turned towards Selwyn, who drew his own and braced himself.

The main difference between this spar and the last was that Link was clearly focusing less on speed and more on power, intent on making his point; each blow hit with the force of a black moblin’s full strength. Selwyn braced himself to match the feat, but it was a strain, and Link didn’t even seem to notice.

Ten minutes later, the sword shattered in Link’s hands, and he grimaced, stepping away. Selwyn stepped back as well, frowning at his own blade; it wasn’t yet broken, but it had clearly visible chips and the starts of fatigue cracks in the blade. He handed it to the royal guards’ blacksmith for inspection, and the man turned it over in his hands and scowled at it accusingly.

“I’ll speak to King Rhoam about transitioning the royal guard back to their old gear,” Cedric said decisively. “What about that sword you wear?”

Link shifted on his feet, tilting his head in a way Selwyn might have even read as dangerous if he hadn’t once watched him toddling around with a frog in his half-open mouth. She’ll wear out temporarily, with extended use, but once I unshackled her full power she was sturdier than any other sword I’ve ever picked up.

“Released their power?” the remaining blacksmith broke in, her voice puzzled. “Why did it require releasing? Did the Calamity seal it?”

Link clicked his tongue a few times, confused. I was pretty weak when I first woke up. I expect she would have hurt me, same as anyone else. I had to strengthen myself to draw her and then more to unlock the rest of her power.

“I thought it didn’t harm its chosen knight,” another guard, Ambrose, inserted, sounding suspicious enough that Selwyn actually had to keep himself from bristling. “Would any of us be able to wield it if we strengthened ourselves in the way you did?”

Link met the guard’s gaze, even and blank, and then cocked his head slowly. And for a long moment he didn’t say anything at all.

Ambrose was the oldest guard after Cedric. He wavered, but he didn’t break.

S-h-e, Link spelled out pointedly, making the royal blacksmith inhale sharply, would hurt me because her power was greater than mine could withstand. She would hurt you because she hates you. She’s very hostile.

Ambrose clenched his jaw, and Cedric swept in before the situation could escalate. “Can you explain what you mean by that?”

My sword has a spirit and a voice, Link said coolly, like he was saying something he didn’t think should need explained. She has been loyal to me since I first touched her and she’ll remain loyal after I’m gone. The one time someone tried to steal her while I was sleeping, I woke up to them bleeding from their eyes and ears. She is mine.

It was times like this that Selwyn was sharply, almost painfully reminded that as young as Link was, his soul was much older than his body.

“So that’s why you talk about her the way you do,” Selwyn murmured, smiling a little when Link looked at him quickly, all iciness gone from his eyes. “I don’t know if you realize it, but you seem very affectionate when you speak of her. The augmentation process, is that what you meant by proving yourself?”

Link nodded with certainty. The trials to unlock her full power were the toughest I took on. The last of them took me multiple tries.

“Could we attempt those trials?” Selwyn asked, before he could think better of it.

Chapter Text

Link spent quite a while communing with his sword after that, setting her across his lap with his eyes closed while she chimed and flashed. He nodded a few times, cocked his head, and once or twice even started to sign something before cutting himself off.

The rest of them took the time to discuss some other augmentations to the regimen and supplies, and Selwyn found himself and Asher both front and center of the discussion – not because the others looked to them, but because they kept putting themselves there.

They needed to do better. Failure was not an option.

Eventually, Link rose to his feet and returned to the table, bringing the conversation to an abrupt end. He gestured for the guards on either side of Selwyn to move away, and then set his sword down in front of him, leaned on the table, and looked Selwyn in the eye, holding his gaze.

He still looked painfully unsure, almost reluctant to maintain eye contact, and he was unmoving for a very long moment before he finally spoke to Selwyn.

The trials are calibrated for my skillset and physical ability, Link said, slow and careful. My sword has made it clear that she will not be adjusting them. She’s agreed to let you try, but she’s not going to make a final decision on the rest of the guard until you’ve finished your first attempt.

Selwyn considered that, searching his son’s gaze, and then asked, “So if I don’t pass, no one else will attempt it?”

To his surprise, Link shook his head. I think it depends on if she likes how you approach it. My sword values resourcefulness, same as the goddess, so that’s what she expects of me and what she’ll expect of you.

“Ah,” Selwyn said thoughtfully, starting to smile in something like amusement, “so if I went at it hacking and slashing…”

The corner of Link’s mouth twitched. Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend that. He gestured. To attempt it, you’ll have to touch her. Don’t worry, she’s safe in her sheath, and you have permission.

Selwyn nodded and, mindful of what Link had said about the person who tried to steal her, carefully set one hand on the hilt of the sword that seals the darkness.

He blinked, and when he opened his eyes, he was in a grove, clearly enclosed by Sheikah-patterned walls. A quick check revealed he had no armor and no weapons, only his boxers preserving his modesty and something strapped to his waist and back – one was revealed to be a paraglider when he looked at it, usually used by soldiers working in units with Rito. The other seemed to be a simplified version of the slate he had seen Link using. Just as he was realizing that, a voice echoed in the back of his mind, sharp and cold like beautifully glittering ice.

“It was bold of you to suggest that you undertake the trials of my master.”

A quick look around revealed nothing present except a small, temporary monster camp across the room. No clear source for the voice.

“Understand that I have my doubts even now,” the voice continued – it must have been the voice of Link’s sword, cool and disaffected. “These trials were designed to test his courage, wisdom, and power to their precise limit, and his soul has had many thousands of years to hone those traits. I am disinclined to believe in the resilience of another. But I will allow it this once.

“These trials are set in a sacred realm within myself. You will feel every injury as a cut upon your own body. You will feel your death as truth. I do not expect you to perform as my master’s equal, and that is not the standard I intend to hold you to. What I will test is your resolve. We will see how it holds.”

Selwyn shook himself as the presence faded, swallowing around the dryness of his throat. Then he looked at the monster camp across the way, looked at a tree branch on the ground, and thought about how Link had explained his approach to Eventide.

He nodded to himself, and then he picked up the tree branch.

What felt like several hours later, Selwyn passed through the gate that slaying the hinox had opened for him. He was dizzy and sore, grinding his teeth through the pain of several assorted burns and arrow wounds and one very angry relocated shoulder from a fight against a talus. The dried blood from a head wound he’d taken encrusted some of the back of his neck, and he favored one ankle as little as he could feasibly manage.

Blinked, and all of the wounds were gone; he stood on a stairway suspended above an unending abyss, and a figure hovered at the next level up, colored dark violet and midnight indigo, her face molded smoothly into a carved-marble expression.

Selwyn blinked again, and then exhaled, letting himself relax a little with unexpected exhaustion. He’d completed this set of trials.

He climbed the steps to stand in front of the figure, keeping his eyes respectfully low and his hands at his sides. There was almost a minute of silence where both of them were still, and he could almost feel her gaze boring into him.

There were very, very few legends about sword spirits.

“You persisted through the trials despite clear unfamiliarity with the skills required for their completion,” the spirit of the sword said at last, in the exact same cut-crystal voice, tone and gaze both impassive. “Your performance was adequate. You may attempt the middle trials.”

Selwyn lifted his head up just enough to meet the spirit’s unnerving stony eyes, and then bowed to her without replying.

In another moment, he was blinking awake, pulling his hand away from the sword like he’d been burned. He shook himself, and when he looked over, Link was leaning closer, eyes concerned.

“Did that hurt you after all?” Asher asked sharply.

Selwyn glanced around, shaking his head as he realized that outside of the sword, no time had passed at all. It took a moment to adjust, and then he looked at Asher, placing his hands carefully in his lap to keep them from shaking.

“No, I’m alright,” he assured Asher, and then transferred his gaze to his son, studying him thoughtfully. He wished he could’ve been there when Link was first speaking to his younger self; it would have been telling to hear exactly what he chose to say. “Your sword is quite an aloof spirit.”

Link relaxed, straightening up with a small grin that warmed his whole demeanor, which was not necessarily a reaction that Selwyn could sympathize with at the moment. You can say it, I know she’s frigid, he signed with amusement. How did you do?

Selwyn considered. “We’ll certainly have to diversify weapons training, perhaps some exercises dedicated to making do with what’s on hand. Fighting without our usual armor and shields. More training in combating large numbers, not merely large enemies, and varied terrain. The later trials, are they more of the same?”

Link made a so-so motion with one hand. Did you pass, then?

Selwyn exhaled, reaching up to run his hand over the back of his head, where he’d taken the head wound. Clean and intact. “Yes, though it was… difficult. I can’t say I’ve ever fought a talus in my smallclothes before.” Or even without a bow and a solid supply of arrows.

More than one of the others muffled a snort into their fists, and Selwyn mock-scowled at them.

“You laugh now, but it sounded like the sword was satisfied with how I approached it,” Selwyn said, not without pride; it had been much more difficult than he’d anticipated. “You’ll have to do it too, sooner or later.”

Link beamed at him, and Selwyn couldn’t help grinning back, just for a moment.

There are three sets of trials, Link said. Are you going to attempt the next set?

“Well, that’s what she told me to do,” Selwyn said wryly, and Link was just starting to laugh when he set his hand back on the hilt of the sword.

No grove of trees this time; when Selwyn opened his eyes he was in a windy room without any apparent floor or ceiling, platforms set into the walls at varying levels. He had to lean forward to confirm his suspicion, and the mostly-unused paraglider was suddenly heavy on his back.

Selwyn, while decent with a bow, was not an archer. He had never been in a unit with the Rito before.

“You may begin this trial with a leap of faith,” the voice of the sword said to him, high and clear. “You will not find this set so easy.”

Selwyn took a deep breath, grabbed the paraglider off his back, and, just as the frozen enemies began to move and take aim at him, leapt off the platform, catching the updraft with a grunt of effort.

(For his children. This was for his children.)

Selwyn came out of the second set of trials with a long stream of filthy swearwords. Asher was there a moment later, a grounding hand on his elbow, and Selwyn absently reached up to squeeze it reassuringly before he caught his breath, struggling to shake off the sensation of falling.

When he was steady again, he looked up at Link, who was leaning down again, clearly concerned.

“Was that a guardian?” Selwyn asked at last, thinking of the towering and recognizably Sheikah-made construction that had dominated the last room.

Link paused, and then signed gently, Eye?

Selwyn nodded. The great, glowing eye as big as his head – and the beam it had shot from it, knocking him and his paraglider too far apart to catch – had been what made him so sure.

That was a guardian, Link confirmed. Stationary, but not a turret. I’ll lay out the different kinds another time. Are you alright?

Selwyn shook himself again, taking a few moments to confirm that the arrow wounds and the bumps and bruises were all gone, and finally composed himself, exhaling heavily.

“Resource management,” Selwyn said decisively, glancing up at Cedric. “It shouldn’t be a problem for us, but the practice in efficiency should be helpful. And…” This was still difficult to believe, so he used the opportunity to give Link a plaintive look. “Midair archery?”

It had taken him two and a half rooms before he realized that was what was expected of him, but it seemed the most effective way of going about it. Link’s sheepish look confirmed it.

I’ve needed it a lot, Link signed apologetically. We could probably get some Rito to help once you’ve got the basics down. I could try and help with that.

“We can handle the basics,” Cedric interrupted, faintly amused. “It’s usually a specialized skill, but it looks like we’re going to need all of those. Do you think you can extrapolate from what Hallowell’s been bringing up what else we’ll need to work on?”

Link paused, turned the wrist with the bracelets as if to hear it chime, and then nodded like nothing had happened.

He was almost done with the first section, Link explained. The next one is entirely in the dark among ruins, and the last is full of guardian scouts – there’s nothing special about that area’s terrain, but guardian scouts do have a unique attack pattern. And that ends the second set.

Cedric nodded, lips pursed as he categorized the information. “The second of?”

“Three?” Selwyn asked as much as said, glancing at Link. Link nodded.

The first area of the final trials is all lightning storms, Link said, slow and thoughtful. The kind you can’t use metal weapons in. Then a lava area – you’ll get a set of flamebreaker boots right before that, so you don’t have to worry about burning up, but there’s still lava. Then there’s ice, and you’ll need to manage your time or weapons carefully because you don’t get clothing, just some magic food. And last is almost entirely guardians set in ruins.

“Almost?” Cedric prompted. Link shrugged.

The very last room is a guardian turret, a mounted bokoblin herd, and a white-mane lynel in a largely open area, he explained, almost unconcerned, like the very idea of his slight, willowy son facing down a white-mane lynel didn’t make Selwyn’s lungs try to seize.

“How long did it take you to complete these trials?” Asher prompted, nudging Selwyn’s foot under the table.

Link hummed, and then grunted, soft and thoughtful. I ran through the first and second sets without any trouble, but the third took me a few tries. Four? After the third I left it alone and came back about two months later. He clicked his tongue. My sword made it clear she doesn’t expect or intend you to make it all the way through, so you could maybe choose a particular checkpoint to aim for.

“If you made it through the first two sets of trials without any trouble, then that’s what we should be able to do as well,” Ambrose cut in, gruff and subdued. Link tilted his head, neither inviting nor forbidding him from going on, and he tacked on, “Damn near everything in the final trials sounds more one-man army than learning flexibility. Maybe the lightning zone would be helpful.”

After a moment, Link inclined his head. Are you going to make an attempt now or another time? he asked.

Cedric snorted. “If Selwyn couldn’t do it, then the rest of us should definitely work on training before we bother your sword spirit about it. I, for one, haven’t handled anything but a halberd in about twenty years, and not all of us can pick up a brand new weapon and figure out how to use it under intense pressure.”

There were a few sounds of agreement from around the table, and Link actually looked a little relieved, retrieving his sword from in front of Selwyn and strapping her back on.

“There’s the issue of supplies too,” Selwyn said briskly, casting his mind back to the trials. “It’s only standard at the moment to carry blue potions, but we should definitely expand that.”

“And paragliders,” Cedric agreed, frowning, and glanced at the three blacksmiths. “I don’t supposed any of you could get in touch with some Rito specialists to collaborate with on some new gear.”

“We’ve got to work from scratch anyway,” the head royal smith said ruefully, while the royal guards’ smith made more aggravated noises. She elbowed him, unamused, and looked at Link before continuing, “Have you found the extra weight of non-Rito weapons to be a particular burden in the air?”

They make me a bit slower and I wear out faster, but that’s all, Link dismissed with a shrug. Nothing I imagine you couldn’t get used to with training.

“Might want to consider building some enchantments into your armor too,” the Goron blacksmith added, and looked at Link. “That diamond you wear, I’m guessing it’s not just for looks.”

Link shook his head. Diamonds provide particular protection against guardian beams. I gave Robbie and Purah some armor designed to do the same thing, but if you can spare the funds, then some diamond settings probably wouldn’t be amiss. I took this one to the Great Fairies four times over and it’s as good as a cuirass with the same enchantments.

“Expensive, but not a bad idea,” Cedric agreed. “We’ve definitely been holding back too much as it is, so it’s better to overreach than underestimate what we’re up against.” He leaned forward again, catching Link’s attention, gaze gone grave. “We’re not going to let things go so terribly wrong again.”

Link looked away quickly, swallowing hard, and nodded.

They wrapped up the meeting nearly an hour later, with a solid plan of action for the next few months’ work at least, and by the end of it Selwyn could see Link squirming and rocking impatiently, always a sign of mounting agitation. He was even starting to tap his hands together and nip at his palms, so he was absolutely at the end of his rope.

Which was to say – if the meeting went on much longer, Link was either going to start crying or climb directly up the wall and into the rafters. Selwyn recognized those longing looks.

Selwyn subtly signaled to Cedric to wrap it up, and only when they were leaving did he catch Link’s attention, giving the boy a gentle smile and trying to decide whether to laugh or flinch at the desperate look Link shot him.

You can come home with me tonight, if you like, he invited softly, slow and clear. Your mother has been talking about perhaps adapting the attic into another bedroom. It’s usually quiet there.

He didn’t have time to finish before Link was shaking his head violently. Embarrassment flashed across his face as soon as he’d done that, and he shuffled in place, took a breath, and said to Selwyn, I can’t, it’s too small, I’m not, not used to-

Link was clearly overwhelmed, and Selwyn’s amusement disappeared as his worry took over. He hummed soothingly until Link stopped moving his hands, looking at him with wide eyes, and then asked, Would you be more comfortable if you slept in the forest park tonight?

Link rubbed at his face, pretending he wasn’t wiping away tears, and then, without looking at Selwyn, nodded hard.

“Then do that,” Selwyn said, as quietly as he could manage. “You’ve given us all plenty to think about, so we should be okay for now. Just get yourself level again.”

Link nodded again, quick and shaky, and without another word, darted away, disappearing down the hall towards the exterior door.

Selwyn waited for another minute just in case, and only when he was sure Link had gone did he move on, catching up to Asher where he waited in the hall, tapping his foot and arms crossed.

“So, your boy figured it out,” Asher said mildly. Selwyn let out a slightly cracked sort of snort.

“Wouldn’t you know it, Grace brought him home last night,” he said ruefully.

Asher laughed, like Selwyn knew he would. “Of course it was Grace. Those two are attached at the hip.”

Selwyn’s smile fell even as he nodded mechanically.

“They are, aren’t they,” he said softly, thinking of the story Link had told about the monster that didn’t kill his sister. He swallowed painfully, and then asked, “Asher, what do you do for a boy that’s grieving everything twice over?”

There was a pause, and when he glanced over, Asher’s smile had disappeared.

“Nothing you can do except take him home, Selwyn,” Asher said quietly, and they both knew damn well he didn’t mean the way Selwyn had invited the boy back ten minutes before.

Chapter Text

Link found himself up at dawn the next day, greeted by the sun for the first time in a full week. It made him hum in quiet pleasure, nestled near the top of one of the park’s larger trees, and when he followed the sunbeams to where they spilled out over the field, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

It was time to hit the road again. He had a horse to train and former ruins to explore and a whole new land to get a feel for.

He didn’t even realize he was smiling until his feet hit the ground.

The stables were located conveniently close to where he’d gone to sleep, on the northwestern edge of the island where a pillar of crystal malice had rested in his own time. He pulled his hood up and walked right in, feeling light.

There was almost no one inside, just two or three stablehands, and… Eileen, already awake and hard at work, mixing up what looked like a batch of particularly fancy horse feed. He faltered at the door, not sure whether or not he should approach. Would it be strange to go talk to her? Would it be stranger not to?

It didn’t matter; the decision was soon taken away from him when Eileen happened to look up, smiling at him kindly as soon as she saw him – a maternal little blessing that he’d seen from her more times already than he could count on his fingers. He shifted on his feet, fidgeting uncertainly, and she just beckoned him over.

He went.

“You’re up early, honey,” she greeted, gesturing for him to stand beside her where he could watch her work. Unsure of what else to do, he did, glancing over to check the components she was using – alfalfa, oats, chopped endura carrots, mighty thistles, hyrule herb. Did you sleep alright?

Link shuffled in place and shrugged, vaguely befuddled. Reached up to nip nervously at his fingers, and watched her give him a measured look.

The stallion you caught is over on the end there, if you’re looking for him, Eileen said at last. Link relaxed a little, glancing over to where the horse was indeed there, poking his head out the door to snuffle for food. Going somewhere?

Want to ride, Link said, a little wistfully. He hesitated, glanced at her, and added, I’ll be gone for a little while. But I thought it would be nice to see some of the places I know as ruins.

I’ll let Dad know if he comes looking, she promised with another small smile, and Link couldn’t quite figure out why it warmed him to his heart. He nodded. You got everything you need for the trip?

Link hummed his confirmation; he had a good few bundles of wood in his Sheikah slate still, and the cooking pot he’d bought was stored in there too. That on top of his hunting knife, a soup ladle, a torch, his weapons and a few of his favorite ingredients, and he was set. Anything else, he could find in the wild.

Don’t forget Eloise wants to pick your brain about potions, Eileen reminded him, making him start. She was quite cross that you left before she got the chance before.

Link tilted his head, staring at her for a moment, and then looked away quickly and nodded. Then he paused, glancing back uncertainly. Eileen cocked an eyebrow when he didn’t say anything, and finally, he asked, hesitant and abashed, What does Mary like?

Eileen blinked at him, and then smiled, looking impossibly fond. She likes drawing, mostly. And frightful things, these days, skulls and monster parts and taxidermy animals.

Okay, Link agreed, even though Eileen hadn’t asked anything of him, feeling oddly small. Then, before Eileen could say anything more, he went for his horse, coaxing the beast out of the stall it had been given – he was a little surprised they hadn’t just released it.

After a few moments debating to himself, Link took his ancient saddle from his slate, just in case, and threw the saddle blanket over the horse’s back before strapping the saddle on. He pulled the bridle on next, coaxing it on piece by piece, letting the horse get used to it. It was easier than he expected, and almost on cue, Eileen chuckled.

“I’ve been breaking him in a little,” she explained, making him glance over. “It was assumed you’d want to keep him, and there’s no harm in it.”

Link gave her a small smile, fit the bit into the stallion’s mouth, and considered him for a moment; Link would have to name him at some point. He’d think on it while he was traveling. He led the horse along a few steps, nodded to himself, and then waved to Eileen on his way out the door.

“Stay safe!” she called after him, like it would actually matter to her if he didn’t.

He shrugged to himself and, once outside, hopped into the saddle with a huff. The stallion only bucked a little, and he rubbed its neck, soothing it in low hums and coos. Then he picked a direction and started riding.

It still befuddled Link how much bigger Castle Town was than he’d realized; it had to be home to hundreds or thousands all on its own, all packed together in their little houses and guarded by the wall and the soldiers stationed along it. He kept to the edge of that, not wanting to risk riding such a new horse through the crowded town, and then went out the gate unchallenged.

As soon as he was out of the gate, he kicked his horse gently, encouraging him up from a trot to a canter; no need to bring it to a full gallop. He steered the mount west, and he was off.

This early in the morning, there weren’t many travelers out and about yet, or really much of anyone at all. Link was unbothered as he steered his horse past the quarry and over the bridge, and then through the Breach of Demise. The sun rose steadily higher, and as the town fell into the distance behind him, Link relaxed, firmly tugging his mount back into place whenever the wild thing tried to stray.

The Maritta Exchange ruins were just south of the Tanager Canyon in his own time. If he was right, they should be just fine in this one – and if the Castle Town market had been so fascinating, he was eager to see what a full-on trade center would be like.

He wasn’t disappointed. At his easygoing pace, Link reached the Maritta Exchange in the early afternoon, slowing his horse as they approached the area – it was almost as big as Kakariko all on its own, he realized with wonder, and now that it was afternoon it was bustling with people. A constant stream trickled in and out of the gates, and more flitted from vendor to vendor, looking at wares.

Wide eyes focused on the commotion, Link paid a small fee to a stablehand to look after his horse while he walked around, and plunged in.

The Maritta Exchange offered a lot more specialized wares than the Castle Town market had. Link found some of the elemental arrows that he was familiar with, which was a relief, and a Gerudo jeweler marked as ‘Starlight Memories’ that must have been an ancestor of Isha’s. He couldn’t help but linger there for a little while, wistful, and the jeweler leaned on the table and smirked at him.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” she said lightly, following his gaze to the hair spirals and sticks. “I specialize in enchanted accessories, so these are good for more than just formal occasions as well. Not much use for a piece you can only wear once a year, eh?”

Link was sure he was hiding his longing poorly at best, but there was so much more here than the local gemstones he was familiar with, the topaz and ruby and sapphire, and they were all marked. Bright gleaming emerald, and shimmering lapis lazuli, iridescent moonstone and shining pearl, and he loved them.

None of them came cheap, but he had rupees to spare, and-

Can you explain the enchantments? he asked, unaccountably shy, and then reached up to tug at the Hylian religious braids that framed his face. He didn’t wear anything in them day-to-day, but…

Well. He could.

The woman gave him a sly smile, and started running through the enchantments, one by one. The moonstone earrings that let you see in the dark. The tiger’s eye pendant enchanted to increase strength. The emerald hairstick that sharpened intelligence.

But Link’s favorite, perhaps despite himself, was a delicate little set of hair spirals decorated with rose quartz charms like raindrops.

“I wouldn’t recommend wearing these often, but they’re a blessing on bad days,” the vendor explained. “Quite literally – I originally developed them for grieving widows, but they’ve found use with battlesick soldiers and skittish children as well.”

Link bought them, and then, on further contemplation, two matched sets as well: one of sapphire and ruby bracelets, and one of moonstone and sunstone hairsticks.

He flitted around the exchange for over an hour, marveling at the different things available, the clothes and shields and tools, a meat pie that he ate as he looked around. He was surprised to find a stand filled with what looked like bounties, listing different monster nests and larger-scale beasts in the area, and places where a reward could be collected.

After no more than a moment’s consideration, Link opened up his map and picked up a few that were along his route – a hinox in the Pikida Stonegrove, an ice keese nest in the Kopeeki Drifts, rumors of a lynel near Lake Illumeni. The last was just a request to confirm them so the royal army could be notified, but since Link would be there anyway it would be easier to just handle it.

He bought a pretty green scarf from a Hylian tailor that was kind enough to let him change in the back; he’d be going far enough north that he wouldn’t make it to Tabantha village that night, so full snowquill armor was definitely the way to go.

Finally, belly full and with a few new trinkets in his Sheikah slate’s storage, Link mounted his horse again and kept riding.

It got cold fast as he crossed over into the Tabantha region, and he let the horse slow down, getting to know this foreign terrain. Looking around revealed far fewer lizalfos than he was used to, but just as many moose and rhinos. That should make for easy hunting tonight; the meat in Tabantha was always good. The snow whipped in his face and agitated the horse, but that was nothing he couldn’t handle with a firm hand.

Halfway across the snowfield, he decided the horse’s name would be Hush. The stallion himself would probably never learn it – horses couldn’t see with the sort of precision required to recognize signs from any appreciable distance – but he liked to name them anyway.

Hush was too new and wild for Link to leave behind for any amount of time, which left Link to dismount and coax him up the slope when it came time to climb to the stonegrove. It took skill and patience, and night had fallen by the time they made it up, but Link found that he didn’t mind.

It felt right, to be alone in a whistling snowstorm, cooing at a horse and making a plan to approach the monster in the stonegrove. It felt natural.

Link stayed off the horse as he picked carefully through the tundra, leading it by the reins and keeping an ear out for the hinox. It was difficult to hear past the roaring wind, but after a while, he decided he could hear snoring, took a few minutes to settle Hush tied up on a stalagmite, and grabbed his bow.

An hour later, the hinox was down and butchered, Link had done the same to a wild moose, and he’d built a fire in a sheltered corner of the stovegrove, led Hush over, and cooked himself a helping of spicy meat stew in his new cooking pot. Before the moon rose into view, he’d fallen asleep against his horse, bundled up and warm.

He hit the keese nest on his way to Tabantha Village, and arrived early in the morning. It was a cheerful little village, for how far north it was, and about 75/25 Rito to Hylian. Children played in the streets that Link remembered slaughtering monsters on again and again – the third day after every blood moon on the dot, so travelers could pass unhindered – and he found himself smiling.

There was a food stand just starting to open up along the main street, still a novel concept to Link, and he stopped by and bought something called a Tabantha Bake. Looked almost like a meat pie, but with stewed mushrooms instead of meat, and rather than pie crust… bread maybe?

The owner chuckled, which was what made Link realize he’d stopped eating in favor of examining the food. “I can give you the recipe if you want it, son.”

Link pressed his hands together in a mock prayer, and the owner taught him the recipe while he finished his food, even letting him watch as he made a few for the next couple customers to come by. It needed access to an oven, but it could be nice when he was at home with-

Link stopped short, deflated, and barely managed to keep himself from sighing.

Well. Zelda had probably had this before anyway.

Do you know where I can turn monster contracts in? he asked the other man, and followed his directions to a small business front, where he knocked on the door before going inside.

The Rito man there was dozing, clearly not an early riser, but he shook the drowsiness off when he saw Link come in, sitting up with a grimace. “What is it, boy?”

Link set down the two completed contracts and cocked his head. The man squinted down at them, ruffling his feathers a little to settle them.

“An aspiring monster hunter, huh?” the Rito mused aloud. “Yeah, neither of these have been filled yet, though I’d hold off on the hinox at your age. A few knights will be sent to take care of it sooner or later. You know how to get credit for them?” Link shook his head. “You can either drop it here with your name, and someone’ll check your work and you’ll get the reward in a week or two, or you can show me a couple monster parts as proof.”

Link nodded, left the contracts on the desk, and popped three ice keese wings and a hinox toenail out of his slate before setting them next to their respective contracts. The man stared, and then threw his head back and cackled, pitchy and birdlike.

“More fool me for judging by appearance! You must be quite skilled for your age.” Link smiled a little and shrugged. “Ah, no need to be humble, a hinox is an impressive kill even for a grown man, and you look like you barely have your full plumage. Very well, that’s seventy for the keese nest and two hundred for the hinox, two hundred and seventy rupees in all for your efforts.”

Link signed a quick thank you and was surprised to receive a rough, heavily accented you’re welcome in return – he’d already been impressed by how common sign was, but given their elongated digits, Rito sign was almost incomprehensible to the inexperienced, and they didn’t normally bother. He had to marvel a little at the entire interaction.

He was ambushed by children on the way to retrieve Hush from the post he’d been tied at; they must have seen him go to turn in the monster contract.

“Do you really hunt monsters?” a round-eyed green Rito chick wanted to know.

“Can I see your bow?” demanded another, already tugging insistently at his tunic.

“Forget the bow, I wanna see his sword!” insisted the only Hylian of the group, eyes wide and pleading. “And monster parts, monster parts! I heard really good monster hunters chop parts off like-” He made a chopping motion with his hand, and then bounced on his heels, clearly too excited to contain himself. “And keep them for trophies!”

Link chuckled and knelt down, shifting back a little when the kids moved to swarm him, and spent the next few minutes showing them his bow and a few different arrow types. He gently batted their reaching hands away from his sword, and distracted them by pulling out some of the beautiful, glittering ice keese wings he’d collected earlier.

“Whoa!” came the chorus from the gathered children, and he had to smile, passing them around so they could each touch and fiddle with one.

After a while, Link gently broke away, hiding his smile at their disappointed moans, and finished retrieving Hush so he could continue on his way while it was still morning.

He reached Rito Village closer to noon and stabled Hush at Rito Stable, and was halfway up to the center column before he looked around and realized that Rito Village was much bigger than he remembered it being. It stretched across several pillars he didn’t remember it attaching to, coming to encompass nearly the whole of Lake Totori.

There were groups of Rito flying freely, too, and Link stopped halfway across the second bridge to watch them, wide-eyed. One was clearly an avian military unit, practicing flight drills and formations. Another was something that he’d only heard about, mostly from Zelda – a group of Rito dancers, forming beautiful shapes in the sky with a grace that Link could only dream of. A third was children, playing what looked like tag.

He was surprised to find that the goddess statue at the top of the staircase was missing, but further exploration revealed the reason: instead of being tucked away in a small cranny, decorated with flowers, there was a modest temple on the west side of the village. It only took Link a few moments to recognize it as one he had once dug luminous stone from.

There were a few other people inside, Rito and Hylians and a lone Zora, so Link kept his hands to himself, knelt on the leftmost of the mats set in front of the goddess statue and stone offering bowls, and sighed softly.

It had the same setup as the one in the castle, if much more modest – a flower crown around Hylia’s head, like Link remembered, and then a bowl of water on one side and another of glowing embers on the other.

Link closed his eyes, bent his head, and prayed.

Dear mother Hylia, goddess of love and light, please let me speak my worries, my grief, and my hopes.

I’m starting to understand why you let me come here. It’s beautiful here, mother. Hyrule is so vibrant and lively. So many of the places I know as ruins are full of happiness in this time, and I can only hope that I can protect them. I want to protect them.

I met my family. They seem kind, but I am still not certain how to act around them. I don’t know how to be a brother. I don’t know how to be a son. I can’t remember. I hope that they will be patient with me as I relearn.

It’s odd to be in a time with so many buildings and settlements. I have spent so much time indoors this last week. It’s uncomfortable, and adjustment is difficult. Sometimes I feel that I cannot breathe in so small a space. But it is good too. It’s good for so many people to have such safe homes.

Thank you for listening to me, mother. Please bid me well as I walk my path.

Link stayed there for a few minutes after he was done, listening to the quiet murmurs of the temple, and then took a handful of wildberries from his slate and dropped them into the offering bowl in front of him.

The Rito dancers, once he caught their attention and showed them his paraglider, were happy to teach him a few tricks for agility in the air; he learned how to twist on a dime, to circle like a whirlwind, and even almost got the hang of pirouetting like a legendary Loftwing charging through a storm.

By the time he left Rito Village, it was almost sunset, but Link couldn’t bring himself to regret the diversion; it hadn’t been on his list, but it was vastly different from how he’d remembered.

He kept riding into the night to reach Great Fairy Kaysa, surprised to find the trail up to her fountain much more passable than he remembered. Link still had to dismount halfway up the trail, guiding Hush along by the reins as the stallion huffed and snorted and complained, but it was clearly a well-worn path.

The moon had long since risen by the time Link reached it, and he tied Hush’s reins to a tree, patted his flank, and went to kneel at the fountain, whistling softly into the bloomed flower to catch Kaysa’s attention.

With a splash that had Link shaking the blessed water out of his face, Kaysa emerged, still yawning, to give him a wry smile.

“A bit late for a boy your age to come calling, isn’t it?” she mused, leaning against the edge of her fountain, with a pretty arch to her back. “What is it, darling? I haven’t seen your face before.”

Link gave her a small smile, and then held out his offering – a gold rupee and two silvers. She gasped in quiet delight, snatching them out of his hand, and disappeared back into the fountain with them, emerging empty-handed a moment later.

“You’re a sweetheart, I see,” she purred, leaning down to tower over Link from a closer vantage point, the tip of her nose bigger than Link’s entire head. Link just smiled a little, shuffling a half-step back to give himself space, and she laughed. “Did you want something, dear boy? That was quite a generous offering to just say hi.”

Link nodded, tugging at his clothes a little in example. Kaysa considered him for a moment, and there was a split second where her eyes narrowed, sharp and intelligent, before she broke out into a vapid smile again.

“Ah, I see! You’d like your clothing enhanced, wouldn’t you?” Link nodded. “Well, I can do that. Can you show me what you’d like enchanted, sweet boy?”

Link took out a few of the items he’d purchased recently – the pearl necklace, the ruby and sapphire bracelets, the sunstone/moonstone hairsticks and the rose quartz spirals. He laid them out in front of him, and Kaysa dropped down in her fountain to lazily examine them, pushing the items around with a single enormous fingertip.

“I can taste my and my sisters’ magic on you, boy,” she said suddenly, without looking away from the items. “It’s all over your clothing. But I don’t believe we’ve ever met before.” She glanced up at him and smiled, ignoring the way he stiffened uncertainly. “I certainly look forward to getting to know you.”

Link shifted, unsure of how to respond, especially when he knew she didn’t know sign. Kaysa just smiled at him, looked back down, and started to run through what she’d need to enchant each of the items he’d brought.

By the end of an hour, with Kaysa’s magic, Link was able to enchant the pearl necklace twice over, the ruby and sapphire bracelets each three times, the sunstone once and the moonstone twice and the rose quartz hair spirals three times.

Link was grateful that he hadn’t sold off the gems he didn’t recognize, though he still tried not to think too closely about the stolen jewelry silver and gold monsters wore like trophies. They’d likely continue to come in handy as he explored more enchanted offerings. Still, sooner or later he’d have to start buying jewelry to supplement what he actually wanted.

He found that he didn’t mind the thought so much.

Chapter Text

First thing in the morning, Link went out to the Great Tabantha Bridge to wait, and wasn’t disappointed; at around five-thirty in the morning, same as in his own era, Dinraal drifted into view, her massive clawed feet batting at the air and her serpentine body arching and flowing like a dancer’s ribbon.

Link bowed to her as she approached, and waited until she came passing under the bridge before he hopped the railing, shot at her massive flank twice in quick succession, and caught himself with his paraglider. He tracked the progress of the two fallen scales with his eyes, and then landed halfway up the canyon wall, watching Dinraal continue on her languid way. Only once she had passed safely out of sight did he jump down again to collect his prize.

“Only you,” Revali whispered in his ear, dry humor coloring his voice as he twisted around Link, bringing him up and back out of the canyon. Link chuckled, catching the top of the wall and hauling himself up with only a small wince at the pull of skin.

He caught sight of the start of a monster camp in the scablands and broke it up without remorse, then took a hard right to head for Lake Illumeni, nudging Hush to speed up and gallop past the intervening plateau. The wind rushed past Link’s face, and he leaned down closer to Hush’s neck and laughed.

There was nothing quite like the freedom of a solo journey.

On a whim, he steered directly for the lake and found his instincts to be true; there was a lone Hylian there, a man with salt-and-pepper hair that Link found stacking wood against the side of his house. Link guessed he was restocking after the winter.

He looked up as Link brought Hush firmly to a walk and then to a halt, offering the horse an apple for all his hard work before he approached the man with a wave. The man nodded back, setting down a wood chunk before turning to Link, brushing off his hands.

“What brings you all the way out here?” he asked, sounding less exasperated than Link might have expected from someone who had clearly gone to lengths to live in a remote area.

L-y-n-e-l, Link spelled out, mostly to check if the man would catch that much. The man hummed, and then, to Link’s delight, nodded.

“Yeah, there’s one out a little to the northeast,” he confirmed. “Been a bit of a pain, if I’m honest, can’t go anywhere near that area now. Blue-mane bastard. If you’d let the guard know, I’d be much obliged.”

Link shook his head dismissively. I can take care of it. May I leave my horse here?

The man narrowed his eyes at Link. “Don’t be arrogant, boy, most royal guards can’t even handle a fully-grown lynel on their own. You’re so young you’ve still got all your baby fat.”

Link waved it off, and the man actually scowled at him.

“You’re going to get yourself killed!” the man snapped, and rubbed his face, aggravated, when Link patted the air, trying to calm him. “You-”

I’ve faced lynels before, it’s fine, Link tried to assure him.

The man snarled at him and reached for his arm, and Link reacted before he could fully process what was going on. He grabbed the man's wrist before he could grab Link's, stepped back, and used both his own weight and the man's own momentum to send him off his feet. Link took a moment to steady his breathing, and by the time he turned around, the man was on his feet again, eying him warily.

Sorry, he signed after a moment. Don't touch me. I'm leaving now.

The man swore violently behind him when he walked away, and, from the sound of things, started to pace in agitation. Link felt a little bad about it, but really, it would be easier if the man had just believed him when he said he knew what he was doing.

The fight took Link the better part of two hours, the best workout he’d gotten in probably months. Lynels were always clever, fearsomely strong opponents, but blue-manes weren’t bad as lynels went, and Link had his sword, his enchanted armor, and elixirs made from talus gravel and molduga fins. The massive monster didn’t stand a chance, and Link came away with nothing more than a dislocated shoulder where he’d blocked a charge and a lightly burnt forearm from a fireball.

With a grimace and a groan, Link popped his shoulder back into place, and then got to work butchering the lynel. No jewels on this one, not on a blue-mane – nothing short of a malice-struck monster had that sort of deliberate cruelty in it – but Link kept its sword, shield, and bow, and then cut off its hooves and head, both of which he would clean later.

After a moment of consideration, he also cut out its heart, liver, and, with the help of a hammer, one short and thick femur, but left everything else. He’d been meaning to experiment with more lynel parts, but the pain of his scarring was starting to get to him even worse than his dislocated shoulder was, and there was no real need to push himself so hard.

The buzzards would clean up the rest.

He returned to Lake Illumeni at a weary walk, the afternoon stretching into early evening, and found the man still pacing back and forth, periodically stopping by Hush to fiddle with his tack, then shaking his head, turning away, and pacing some more. Irritated, Link whistled, sharp and piercing. Hush trotted over to him, and Link fed him an apple and patted his neck before turning to the old man with a raised eyebrow, fixing the undone buckles without looking.

The man, on the other hand, looked faintly relieved. “You come to your senses once you saw that beast? Can’t say I blame you.”

Link rolled his eyes, tapped around his slate for a second, and then tossed one of the lynel hooves at the man’s feet, most of the foot’s flesh still attached. He wasn’t disappointed.

The man knelt down, picked it up, turned it over a few times, and just stared like he couldn’t process what he was seeing. Finally, baffled and hoarse, he said, “Well, I’ll be. A little scrap of a thing like you? That couldn’t have been more than a few hours.” Link shrugged, and grimaced at the sharp twinge on both sides. “Don’t make that face at me, I was royal guard back in the day, and I couldn’t even take a blue-mane down by my own damn self. Come here, let me look you over.”

A little befuddled himself now, Link nonetheless went, allowing the man to examine for injuries. He zeroed in on Link’s hurt shoulder immediately, scowling at it.

“Name’s Jovani,” the man said belatedly, still examining Link’s shoulder and then the rest of his arm as well. “You’ll have some nasty bruises and I want you to let me bandage your shoulder before you go anywhere. Maybe your wrist too. Anything else?” Link indicated his other arm, showing him the faintly blistered burn. “Least it didn’t get you anywhere serious, I suppose, but come inside. Damn kids…”

Link allowed himself to be shuffled inside, more confused than anything, and soon found himself sat down at a small wooden table, Jovani darting around like he was in a hurry. He returned a minute later, setting bandages, scissors, and even a small bottle of hearty elixir on the table before finally settling himself in the other chair, still grumbling under his breath.

“Take your shirt off,” he directed Link at last. Link looked at the supplies on the table. “Yes, you foolish child, I’m going to patch you up before I let you go anywhere.”

Resisting the urge to shrug again, Link fumbled with his buckles a little before successfully undoing them. He got the tunic off, hissing painfully at the tug and pull, and nearly rolled his eyes when Jovani inhaled sharply. Instead he just leaned back in the chair, reaching up to knead at his scarred shoulder.

“Fire of Din, who let you get worked over like this at your age?” Jovani demanded, voice unexpectedly rough and angry.

Link blinked, turning to frown at Jovani. Jovani, while not visibly sick like some of the others Link had encountered, was examining Link’s body with a critical eye, even going as far as to do a circle around Link, scowling blackly. He crossed and uncrossed his arms, agitated, and didn’t settle even when he stopped, seemingly unable to take his eyes off Link.

Link thought it seemed kind of like an overreaction. His scarring was unusually severe, sure, but there were monsters around, and things happened. It wasn’t that weird.

Eventually, Jovani caught Link’s eye and visibly forced himself to calm down, sitting next to Link again. “I have a couple of strong words for your parents,” Jovani muttered acerbically, but he grabbed the bandages and started to wrap Link’s arm in a makeshift sling, stabilizing it. Link squirmed. “Keep that on for at least a day, boy, you don’t want to agitate your shoulder too much.”

Link scowled at him, and then blinked, looked down at his still-free wrist, and, for possibly the first time, held it out for inspection. Jovani frowned at him, and then tilted up one of the engraved plates to look at it.

Jovani mouthed along to the words Link knew by heart. I don’t speak, I use sign.

Jovani sighed, letting it go. “At least be conservative about it where you can. With the elixir’s help, you should be good to take the sling off by the day after tomorrow, but you should still be gentle with it.”

Link had gotten dislocated shoulders before, and he was pretty sure it didn’t require this much fuss. He hummed doubtfully, leaning heavily on the table, and Jovani rolled his eyes, gestured for Link’s other arm, and started to wrap the burn too. His touch was gentler than Link might’ve expected for how grumpy he was.

Jovani let Link stay around for a few more hours to rest, eat, and then clean his kill, and ended up sitting by bemusedly while Link boiled the hooves and head. Him asking about it somehow ended in Link using stiff, stilted sign to tell Jovani about his sisters, and then Jovani started talking about his time in the royal guard, and then he said something that made Link look up.

“Man who replaced me was a guy called Selwyn,” Jovani recalled. “Something of a legend as recruits went. He got pulled from the ranks when his unit faced a blue-maned lynel, took down every member of his unit except him. Came back a complete mess, but he not only lived, he killed the damn thing. Don’t mind being replaced with a guy like that, personally.”

He chuckled, but Link wasn’t listening anymore, quietly mulling that over. It tickled something in the back of his mind, where his lost memories lived, but tugging on that thread didn’t offer anything else.

…Link was glad he’d only ever faced lynels alone. The bodies he sometimes found in their territories were awful enough.

Link ended up falling asleep by Jovani’s house, waking up around when the moon rose. He declined the man’s offer to stay the night and rode out back onto the field. The rest had helped to calm the pain of the exertion a little, but the incoming clouds told him he should move along quickly if he wanted to stay ahead of the storm.

Traveling through the night brought him to the intact Sage Temple by early morning. Too keyed up to go to sleep just yet, Link went inside with the first rays of dawn light, smiling apologetically when the Rito priest inside startled.

“An early morning visitor,” the Rito said after a beat, her feathers smoothing back down. “Good morning. Have you come to meditate with one of the goddesses?”

Link cocked his head, and without much prompting, the priest started to walk him through the temple, seemingly eager to share.

The Rito priest walked Link through the different parts of the temple, explaining each one with obvious pleasure. The temple as a whole was triforce-shaped; the northern section was lit with candles and a small fireplace, while the western section had a modest fountain and a small stream outlining it, and the eastern section was half-earthen and filled with plants.

“I maintain all of the areas on my own,” the Rito explained proudly, gesturing to the moist soil woven with small vine plants and flowers. “Clean out the fountain, replace the candles, water the plants. It’s a form of meditation and devotion in and of itself, I think.”

What’s the difference between meditation and prayer? Link asked, wincing at the movement of his shoulder. Jovani may have had a point.

The priest hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose… prayer is an expression of emotion, and meditation seeks serenity. Separate means to a similar goal. I believe that both are useful in their own ways, and neither is complete without the other. If you’d like, I can teach you how to meditate. Just pick an area, and I’ll sit with you.”

The center was mostly bare, save for a few cushions and, from somewhere, a faintly audible melody. Link wavered between there and the eastern section for a minute before his still-protesting knee led him to Hylia’s triangle, and he sat and looked up at the Rito priest expectantly.

She smiled, sat down across from him, and taught him how to meditate.

Link spent most of the morning in the temple, just breathing and resting and listening to the little sounds of the temple and its priest. He thought she was right; it was nice, in its own way, and helped to center him.

Riding was a little harder with his shoulder bound, but Hush was learning quickly, and not too hard to lead with Link’s knees instead of the reins.

The rest of the day passed in quiet, Link not lingering by any of the people he passed on the road. He went through Sanidin Park, but didn’t linger there; surprisingly, it had been intact even in his own time – he’d certainly spent enough time exploring it to remember that much – but now it was crowded and he thought he’d rather just move on for the moment.

A day’s ride brought him all the way to Gatepost Town, which reminded him a little more of Castle Town or the Maritta Exchange than Tabantha Village. The market was just getting into full swing, so he dismounted to lead Hush by the reins and steered around it, smiling a little at the bustle of families and crowds. Instead, he looked for another reward center and eventually found one not far from what he recognized as the (intact) entrance to the Great Plateau.

He decided not to tempt his inner demons by heading up there, and instead hitched Hush once again, encouraging him to drink while he could, stripped off the already much-hated sling, and headed inside.

There was a Goron manning this one, half-asleep from clear boredom, and Link had to chuckle, whistling softly to catch his attention. The Goron snorted, blinked, and then rolled upright with a grunt, squinting at Link. “Whaissit?”

Amused, Link placed the lynel contract down, and the Goron squinted at it.

“Oh yeah, I remember this one,” he grunted after a moment. “Nonsense, probably, but not worth risking it. You find a lynel?” He gestured downward. “You’ll be inconveniencing plenty people a whole lot if you lie to me. Ain't no one like dealing with a lynel.”

Link tossed the cleaned hoof onto the table. The Goron choked.

“Did you kill a goddess-damned lynel?” Pause. “Did you kill a lynel for a silver rupee?”

No, Link signed, amused. He tried not to wince at the jostling of his shoulder. He was not putting that sling back on. I also killed it for parts.

And weapons, but even in his own time, a lot of people got weird about taking weaponry off monsters. And especially about killing monsters for their weapons. Despite everything, that was really only something Link did.

The Goron stared at him, then scrubbed his face, shoved a silver rupee at him, and made a shooing motion. As he left, Link heard the Goron mutter behind him, “Pebble brats these days, I swear…”

Link snorted.

He walked aimlessly around the market for a while after that, skirting the edges to peek in, but nothing stood out to him, and he was just starting to consider making camp when a distant flash caught his eye. And when he looked up…

Link broke out into a grin, hopped on his stallion, and took off, speeding up from a trot to a gallop as soon as he was out of city limits. Hush, picking up on his excitement, held his stride for as long as he could before finally slowing to a canter near Outpost Town, and Link whistled, loud and pleased.

He bypassed Outpost for now – he could return to it the next day – and went straight on to Scout’s Hill, where, at the very top, a faintly visible column of light shimmered. And where there was a shimmering column of light…

Link whistled again, delighted, clapped a few times, bounced on the balls of his feet, and finally picked up the tiny star fragment, a little thing the size of his fingertip, and admired it for a moment. Even for him, these were hard to find.

Hush was huffing and puffing and panting, though, so after a while, Link fed him an endura carrot, and then used another to lead him down to Hylia River, where Link made camp while Hush drank and drank. He chopped a few ingredients into simple skewers, leaned back against a stray log, and examined the star fragment again. He looked at it, then at his pearl necklace, and then smiled, an idea forming in his mind.

He put the star fragment away.

In the morning, Link doubled back to Outpost Town, where he found a jeweler and explained mostly in gestures and examples what he wanted. Paid the Gerudo craftsman to finish the piece by the afternoon, picked it up with gratuitous thanks and more than a little bit of extra payment, and moved along.

The East Post turned out to be more a checkpoint than anything, a small garrison of soldiers stationed to keep watch over the bridge. He hesitated before just riding through, and none of them paid him any mind; given how many people he’d encountered going each way, he supposed that was fair.

Deya Village, he learned, had not so much been drowned as it had been built on water and then destroyed. The thought was more comforting than he might have expected.

He lingered there for a while, helping a busy mother keep the kids entertained while she made lunch, and in return she gave him a copy of the recipe she’d used: a hearty seafood dish called a Deya Hotpot, made with the village’s specialties. A local fisherman taught Link how to use a fishing pole and even gave him one just as thanks for listening to him talk, though Link wasn’t convinced he’d ever like it more than a bow or his bare hands. He worked with another to spread sand around the goddess statue so she would stay dry.

He moved on.

With some reluctance, Link spurred Hush on ahead and cut through Kakariko to reach Goponga Village. After some consideration, he made camp a little to the west of it, not wanting to commit to sleeping in a town again just yet, and visited it in the morning. Split evenly between Zora and Hylians, it was slow to stir, but Link was able to buy breakfast and poke around for a while, watching people as they set up around and in spite of the swampy environment that made up the area. He showed a Zora man his fishing pole and laughed when the Zora did, and the man taught him about bait and lures too, giving him a few to try out at his leisure.

A hardy canter brought Link to Akkala Citadel by midday, and he spent most of the evening exploring what he’d never quite realized was a beautiful and well-armed fortress.

Well. He’d realized it, technically. But it was so wrecked, so inaccessible, and so remote in his own time that to see it so intact, so grand, was breathtaking. He could go inside, and explore, and there were dozens of people there. There were guards, working stairwells, and windows from which he could look over the land for miles. There were ramparts and cannons and a beautiful, busy bridge, and a parade ground where there were military units running drills.

It was only reluctantly that he took off in the late evening to look for Mija, who enchanted his newest acquisition twice over with only a touch of her finger, and then slept in Kaepora Pass before heading on to the last leg of his journey.

Mabe Village was a charming little farming town, most of its goods supplied by Lon-Lon Ranch just to the east. He hadn’t spent much time there in his own time, but unlike the ruins, the intact Lon-Lon Ranch tickled something in the back of his mind. He couldn’t quite grasp it, but it made him smile anyway, and he took Hush on a few rounds of their trick circuit before he finally moved on to return to the castle.

He felt a lot lighter after his journey, which brought him back to the months spent looking after Zelda in Hateno; she had always known when he was feeling cooped up and tetchy, and there was always some excuse or another to send him out on an errand. She’d known him very well.

He’d miss her. Even with this Zelda still here, he knew he’d miss her. Probably for the rest of his life. Maybe for longer.

Link was still thinking about that as he finally brought Hush back to his stall in the stable, brushing him down, putting his tack away, making sure he had food and water. His body protested the exertion, the good kind of sore muscle mixing with the unpleasant pull-and-sting of unhappy scars, but he dealt with it. It wouldn’t be long now until he could rest. A few of the stablehands around him murmured, but he didn’t pay them any mind for the moment.

Finally, travel-worn and dirty and satisfied, he made his way back into the castle, slipping in through one of the staff entrances. He could probably wash in the spring; he didn’t think it was considered proper to be so messy in the castle.

He didn’t make it that far in the end. A harried looking guard stopped him on the way, and Link received an explanation for some of the earlier guards’ behavior when the man said, oddly stern, “The king expects you in his study, immediately.”

Link cocked his head, but when no more information was forthcoming, he sighed and nodded, and followed the man through the halls, then the library, and finally into the king’s study and the large meeting room he’d spoken in before.

The king was nearly alone this time, just a few royal guards stationed around the edges of the room; Link recognized a few from the meeting regarding tactics and weaponry, but none of them were Selwyn. Link wondered if he should let Selwyn know he was back, or if that would be…

His thoughts trailed off as he registered the king’s disapproving expression, and he frowned a little himself, confused.

“What matter so urgently required your attention that you thought it appropriate to depart for a week without notifying anyone?” Rhoam asked icily.

Link’s frown deepened a little, but he didn’t think ‘why would I notify anyone’ was the correct response here.

Rhoam took his silence as a reply of its own and grew even colder. “Such an action is unforgivably irresponsible of you, child. What if something had required immediate intervention? What if we needed to contact you and were unable to? You need to think about the consequences of your actions. The weight of an entire kingdom is riding on you.”

Did King Rhoam think that Link was anything except acutely aware of that? He had to stop himself from behaving mulishly, leaving it to a subtle clench of his jaw, and signed carefully, I don’t believe there was any harm in my actions.

“Then despite everything, you are still but a naïve child,” Rhoam said flatly. “Go, and be sure not to repeat this week’s delinquency.”

Barely keeping himself in check, Link nodded stiffly, turned around, and left, heading to the underground spring as he’d planned before. He had to keep himself from grinding his teeth. What right did Rhoam have to control his coming and going?

He made his way down to the spring without being stopped again, and there he stripped down, tossed his dirty clothing aside, and sank down to kick sullenly for a while before he started scrubbing himself down.

It was while he was washing that he heard footsteps, and he twisted around to find Asher coming down the slope, hands in his pockets and beret under his arm.

He smiled at Link, small and inoffensive, looking mildly entertained.

“This place is supposed to be secret, you know,” he said. It was pitched to be quiet, but it echoed slightly in the stone chamber.

Link shrugged. Nowhere was secret when the entire place was oozing with malice and monsters. He eyed Asher warily, wondering if he was about to be scolded again, but Asher didn’t look annoyed; he just pulled his tunic, boots, and trousers off and joined Link in the water, a comfortable distance away.

So, what were you doing this week? Asher asked casually, still looking so affable that Link suddenly realized it had to be deliberate, a conscious projection of non-judgement. Little Link doesn’t usually go further than the park or the sacred grounds to pick mushrooms or find fresh eggs.

Link cocked his head, eyes lingering cautiously on Asher for only a few moments before he answered, I did a circuit around most of Hyrule. Wanted to see some of the towns and villages before they became ruins.

Where did you go? Asher asked. Link shrugged.

Maritta Exchange, Tabantha Village, Rito Village. The sage temple. Gatepost and Outpost Town. Deya Village and Goponga Village. Akkala Citadel. And then I was at Mabe Village and Lon-Lon Ranch earlier today. He watched Asher take a long, deep breath, thought about what he’d just said, and winced. Sorry, I didn’t think.

It’s fine, Asher signed, only a little stiff. Are all those places ruins in your time?

Link mentally ran through the list. Rito Village isn’t. It just happened to be on my route, so I visited anyway.

“Oh, good,” Asher muttered, and then, That’s a pretty long list. You passed through all those in a week?

Link nodded. I took my horse. Hush. He needed training anyway.

You must have been moving fast. Did you even have time to do anything along the way?

Link perked up a little, pleased at the thought, the hot spring water swirling around his body with the movement. He nodded quickly. I learned some recipes from a few people along the way, and filled a few monster contracts too. And there was a lynel by Lake Illumeni, so I took care of that.

Asher did the exact same subtle spasm everyone else had. You killed a lynel… on impulse?

Link stuck his tongue out, annoyed. Stop making it weird. I didn’t think I should leave it there for however long it would be before someone came to handle it, and I was right there anyway.

Asher just shook his head, looking faintly bemused. You really don’t see what’s wrong with any of this, do you? Link bristled. I didn’t mean it like that. You never understood why you couldn’t come and go as you pleased as a kid either.

Link settled back again, scowling slightly.

No, he conceded at last. I don’t think I did anything wrong.

Everyone was worried, Asher explained gently. They expected to be able to contact you and then suddenly no one knew where you were. Dad was frantic until Mom told him what you’d said. And you were gone for a week. That was a full week when no one knew when you’d be back. Mom thought you’d only be gone a day.

Link frowned, starting to understand but reluctant to accept it. I don’t understand why it matters so much.

Asher was still for a few more moments, and Link, uncomfortable and uncertain, waited. Asher’s eyes were lingering on Link – on his scarred shoulder and arms and chest. He looked contemplative.

How many towns are there in your time? Asher asked at last.

Eight, I think, depending on how you count, Link answered, confused. Hateno, Kakariko, Lurelin, Goron City, Zora’s Domain, Gerudo Town, Rito Village, and a new one called Tarrey Town.

Do they work together at all?

Kind of? Link said hesitantly. Small merchants travel between them, I think that’s how most of the trade happens. The stables too.

Asher nodded, stayed quiet for a few more moments, and finally said, Living in an intact kingdom depends on cooperation. Carts of supplies come in every week on the same day, shops stay in the same place with the same goods, and the guards come to their agreed-upon shifts as planned. Link nodded along, unsure. Asher exhaled, visibly trying to work out how to make whatever point he was aiming for. It only works if people make and keep their promises. Customers come for goods on market day. Businesses pay their taxes and the kingdom puts those taxes back into the kingdom.

Link didn't know what a tax was, but he didn't think this was the time to ask.

And I broke a promise, Link signed slowly, sighing as Asher nodded, faint relief on the other’s face. Link tried to follow along, working through it slowly. Am I… not supposed to leave?

It would help if you asked permission, Asher said, with some humor. And ideally you’d have an idea of when you’d be back, maybe where you’re going to be and when.

Link sighed and nodded. Fine. Okay. I guess I can do that.

Asher snorted, and Link smiled a little at the obvious amusement on his face. No need to look so glum about it. It’s not the end of the world. I’ll talk to Dad and try to explain to the king what happened. It should help if he understands that you didn’t mean any harm by it – you’re just not used to answering to anyone.

…Thanks, Link signed at last, slow and faltering.

Chapter Text

Link reluctantly turned his head to face the door when he heard a knock, unwilling to move but even less willing to let someone in without seeing who had come. So far, no one had met him at the quarters he’d been assigned, but he hadn’t been in the past that long.

“Ah!” he grunted, and didn’t turn his face back into the crook of his arm until he saw that it was only Selwyn.

Selwyn’s footsteps paused, and then he shut the door behind him and continued forward at a slower, softer pace, the gentle spooked-animal one he favored around Link. “Good morning, Link. Did you sleep alright?”

Eileen and Selwyn were both strange.

O-k-a-y, he spelled out with one hand, not looking up.

Selwyn was quiet for a moment. “Is something wrong? Is it about yesterday?”

Link grunted and shook his head, keeping his breath as slow and even as he could manage; it was something he’d gotten very good at over the last year. R-a-i-n.

Though after King Rhoam and even Asher’s response to his sweep of the countryside the other day, he wasn’t going to admit that the travel had been a significant factor as well. Link had been moving fast, without taking the time to rest as much as he usually did, and his body was paying for it now that he was still. Tender, shooting pain splashed irregularly over most of his body, and it was only practice that kept him from reacting audibly.

“Ah,” Selwyn said softly, instant comprehension blanketing his voice. Because of course, he’d been there when Link had pushed up his tunic to display his scarring. “Should I run down to the apothecary?”

No scorn, no disappointment, not even a particularly undue amount of worry. Selwyn sounded like… Bolson, maybe? Teba?

N-o, Link spelled out lazily, and then, F-i-r-e-p-l-a-c-e. He considered briefly, then added, T-e-n m-i-n-u-t-e-s.

He listened as Selwyn got up and his footsteps headed towards the fireplace, where he would find the fading embers of a fire and the cooking pot Link had used to prepare the ralis root. Not the most effective painkiller in Link’s small collection, but it would take the edge off while allowing him to remain functional.

If it would just. Kick in already.

“You’re very self-sufficient,” Selwyn complimented, a few moments after he reached the fireplace. “Ten minutes to give the herb to begin working, yes?” Link grunted affirmatively. “Then of course.”

Selwyn walked back to the table where Link was seated, paused, and then pulled out a chair and sat down. Then he set a hand on Link’s folded arm. Link spasmed slightly, startled, but didn’t push him away, and Selwyn started to… run his thumb, slowly, back and forth over Link’s forearm. A soothing sort of motion, like he was petting Link.

Link didn’t move away.

The worst of the spasms in Link’s shoulder and abdomen faded away incrementally, loosening enough that it wasn’t so hard to breathe. The sharp ache eased into a heavy soreness, and when he rolled his shoulders experimentally, it wasn’t too bad. He exhaled, sat up, and moved carefully through a short set of familiar stretches, forcing the tissue to loosen further.

Selwyn stayed quiet, waiting patiently for Link to finish, and it was a little strange but it was almost stranger that it didn’t bother Link that much that Selwyn was there. He was unsure, certainly, but not… uncomfortable.

It didn’t feel wrong.

“Your hair-” Selwyn started as soon as Link was done, reaching forward in what was clearly a reflexive and ingrained movement.

Link batted his hand away, a little amused despite himself. It was the sort of thing he’d expect from Koko to Cottla, or Saki to Tulin. Seeing someone applying similar reflexes to him made him feel…

He wasn’t sure, actually. Small?

I can do my own braiding, he signed instead, because he’d done both his own and Zelda’s every morning for the last year, even on his worst days, and he wasn’t about to stop now. Selwyn chuckled, looking self-conscious, and leaned back, waving his hand in concession.

Link closed his eyes and started, weaving the fringes of his hair into neat, spiraled plaits on either side of his face. The rest would go in a ponytail, but the plaits kept his hair from blowing around his face and made him feel more put-together.

To the goddess of courage, I promise to face the day with all the bravery in my heart. To take my challenges as they come-

Link paused. Selwyn was praying along, a soft murmur that Link could barely make out. This… must be another thing he was used to doing, with or for his children.

Without commenting, Link kept going, Selwyn’s voice harmonizing in time with the echo of Zelda that he could hear in his head.

To try my hand at everything that comes before me, and to face tomorrow what I cannot face today.

To the goddess of power, I promise to give my fullest effort to everything I do. To exercise my aptitude where it lies, to improve at what I am still learning, and to practice what I am not yet skillful at.

To the goddess of wisdom, I promise to be mindful of all the choices set before me. To seek to understand the world, the people around me, and myself, and to make the best decisions I can with the knowledge I have today.

To my mother goddess, please hold my hand another day. Love me despite my flaws, support me when I falter, and forgive me when I do wrong. I promise to do my best.

Link tied off the second braid and let go with a sigh, opening his eyes. Selwyn had finished only a second or two earlier, and was still watching him with an odd, soft look in his eyes. Link cocked his head, considering him.

I’m sorry I didn’t warn anyone I was leaving, he said at last. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.

Selwyn chuckled. Yes, Asher told me. I suppose I should have expected nothing less. Honey Nut does more or less the same thing. Link frowned a little, and Selwyn rubbed the back of his neck. We’ve been using Honey Candy for you and Honey Nut for the little one. Grace thought of it. Do you mind?

Actually, Link rather liked it. He shook his head. Selwyn smiled back and continued,

The king recognized that he was perhaps inconsiderate of your circumstances and expects you in his study as soon as possible. We are already pushing that a little bit. Selwyn’s expression looked rueful. Link blinked.

Am I going to be yelled at some more? he asked warily. Selwyn snorted.

Hopefully not. He’s going to give you a chance to explain, and perhaps a compromise can be reached. I did tell him that you were in something of a state before you left.

Link huffed and nodded, faintly abashed.

Zelda always knew when I needed to get away for a little while, he told Selwyn, inexplicably. But maybe the reason she was so comfortable with me leaving was because she knew I’d come back.

He’d never left for more than a day or two, unwilling to be out of her reach any longer than that, but it had still been overwhelmingly helpful.

Selwyn was suddenly very, very still.

Will you be going back this time? Selwyn asked at last, careful and precise. Link took a moment to catch on, and when he did he looked away.

No, he said shortly. Zelda isn’t waiting for me anymore.

His eyes stung a little, which was ridiculous; by the time the malice infection had taken Zelda, he’d been mourning her for so long already that it was more of a relief, her suffering finally at an end. He hadn’t even cried.

Abruptly, he stood up and left, weaving through the halls before Selwyn could catch up. The man did anyway, only a few minutes behind, but to Link’s surprise he didn’t press the issue, though he was frowning deeply. Instead, he took the lead again, bringing Link on to the king’s study. He even kept the pace relatively slow, easy on Link’s protesting body.

Link wondered what kind of scars he had.

It was a small meeting this time; the king and Zelda and the governess, and of course the ever-present scattering of guards around the edges of the room – Link even recognized a few of them, now. King Rhoam’s gaze was more assessing than hostile this time, and Zelda, Link noticed, looked openly relieved; he wondered with a wince if he’d spooked her.

He sat in the place he’d taken the other few times, Selwyn took a place at the edge of the room, and Link waited, eyes on Rhoam.

After a few seconds of this, Rhoam’s eyebrows lifted, he snorted, and he signed, I received word from a former royal guard that you took down a blue-maned lynel on your own several days ago.

Link looked up before he consciously registered what had caught his attention, and found Selwyn stiff as a board, jaw clenched tightly and dead pale. Link thought of the first lynel he'd encountered, the towering red-mane on Ploymus when he was still weak and tired half the time, and the terror that had struck him as soon as it made eye contact. He softened a little and looked back at Rhoam, keeping half his attention on Selwyn.

I found a contract about the rumors, and I figured as long as I was there I should take care of it, Link said mildly. It’s nothing I haven’t done before, your highness. It was just a blue-mane.

Rhoam’s mouth twitched. Yes, I received word about that as well. The reward was a silver rupee, wasn’t it?

Link resisted the urge to roll his eyes. A hundred rupees, lynel parts, and one less lynel on Hylian territory, he pointed out. I’d have taken care of it with or without the bounty.

Rhoam grunted, waved his hand dismissively, and prompted, Explain what you intended to accomplish with your… excursion.

Link tapped his feet on the ground a few times, frowning. I don’t have a good lay of the land here. I spent a full year wandering Hyrule in my time, so I knew every inch of it, but that’s not true anymore. I wasn’t familiar with any of the towns or villages that had been demolished, or all of the roads. He shrugged. I still didn’t get all of them, but Central Hyrule was hit worst, so I hit most of them with the circuit I picked out.

Rhoam nodded curtly. Was that all?

Link barely prevented himself from making a so-so motion with one hand. That was my main goal. I needed to train my horse too, and I knew that going out for a while would help me cool my head. I was starting to get too upset to function. I don’t usually spend time indoors.

Rhoam pursed his lips. Yes, some of the guards mentioned that as well. Explain.

Link tilted his head, stealing a glance at Selwyn, who had composed himself again, still a little wild around the eyes. Link made a mental note. There’s too many people, the space is too enclosed. I don’t like being trapped. Zelda used to send me out to confirm rumors or clear monsters when she thought I was getting too anxious in Hateno.

He glanced at Zelda, who was watching wide-eyed, but with a sharply attentive look that he couldn’t help but feel fond of. But his mouth twitched into a frown when he noticed that the governess – Catrain? – was taking notes again.

Rhoam cleared his throat, and Link looked back at him.

Then a compromise is needed, Rhoam signed firmly, surprising Link. Rhoam snorted. I do not make habit of wearing out my best resources for mere principle. If space is what you require, Hyrule has that in spades. The important matter is that we know where you are and how to contact you.

Link had to work to keep his mouth closed and expression even. It was hard to believe it would be that easy.

My pace varies a little, but I could make a list of any settlements I’m going to pass, and check in at them, Link said hesitantly. But I’m not sure how to make it easy to contact me.

That will be enough for Rito messengers to work with, Rhoam said dismissively. Now, the matter of you putting yourself needlessly at risk. Link frowned at him. The lynel. Which you approached without notice, without backup, when no one knew where you were.

Link scowled, just about done with people getting on him about this.

I knew it would be fine, he signed, carefully patient. In my time there were more than twenty lynels scattered across Hyrule, and each blood moon brought them back at full strength. Rhoam’s face always shut down when Link mentioned the blood moon. I was fully supplied, prepared, and in good health, and I had no concerns about whether or not I would come out of the situation alive.

Rhoam studied Link, eyes narrow with thought, and Link waited, slightly impatient. Link could be accused of being reckless at times – Zelda certainly complained about it enough – but for Hylia’s sake, a blue lynel was not so big an issue as to merit everyone getting hung up over it. Link wasn't some hapless traveler with a dull sword; he was born for this.

How injured were you? Rhoam asked at last. Link exhaled, annoyed.

I dislocated a shoulder blocking a charge, and one of my forearms was a little burnt, he signed dismissively. They were both fine within a couple days.

Actually, his shoulder still ached, and his wrist twinged when he moved it wrong, but honestly, the rain hurt more. It was fine.

Did you have backup plans you did not use? Rhoam prompted. Link’s eyebrows flew up.

I have a dragon-fang fairy tonic that’s probably good enough to knit a severed arm back on, two fairies that stay with me in the Sheikah slate, and Mipha’s Grace should any of that fail.

I’m not familiar with gentle grace, King Rhoam frowned. Link suppressed a flinch.

Mipha, M-i-p-h-a, Link explained. Mipha’s Grace is the blessing she gave me after I freed her spirit. It’s a measure of her signature healing magic. He considered, and then added, The other champions all did the same, but I didn’t need any of theirs either, this time.

I will inquire further about those later, King Rhoam said firmly. Very well. It seems to be that you believed you were acting well within your limitations and allowance. Do not repeat the incident and I will consider it a folly of the changing times.

Link inclined his head, looked at Zelda, and smiled at her uncertain look.

If you have time to go outside after this, I brought a few things back that you might be interested in, he signed lightly, smile easing when she perked up. He glanced up expectantly at Catrain, who sighed.

I believe I could be convinced to consider it an extracurricular lesson, she said indulgently.

I captured a lot of them alive, so I’ll only be taking out one at a time, Link explained to a fidgety and excited Zelda, all of them moved to one of the covered outer gardens Link had never noticed before. Indistinguishable from the rest of the overgrown outskirts, he supposed, or the roof crumbled atop it to hide the structure below.

“Are any of them toxic?” Catrain interrupted, and Link gave her a slightly approving glance but shook his head.

The first one he grabbed was a hot-footed frog, which wriggled in his hand even as he held it out for Zelda’s inspection. She took it without hesitation, which made him smile, and looked up as he explained, That’s a hot-footed frog. It’s best taken as an elixir to increase speed, but it can be eaten for the same effect. It’s also the frog my Zelda once tried to feed me.

Zelda giggled, exactly like he was hoping she would, holding up the frog to watch it wriggle. “It’s so slimy though. Did you really eat it?”

Link didn’t actually remember, but he nodded anyway. I’ve eaten worse, believe me.

Zelda giggled again, and then yelped as the frog escaped her hands. She grabbed for it but missed, and Link pounced before it could escape into the rain, returning it to his slate with a small smile.

He showed her a few more things he’d gathered along the way – mighty thistles and endura carrots from around Kaysa’s fountain, a thunderwing butterfly from western Hyrule, swift violets from the mountains – and let her touch and inspect each one, fascinated and attentive.

“How did you learn all this?” Zelda asked eventually, while he was weaving some of the extra swift violets into a crown. Link paused, then finished it and put it on her head. She beamed, eyes sparkling.

Trial and error, mostly, Link answered at last. When I first started wandering around Hyrule, I wasn’t entirely sure what was and wasn’t edible. I made myself sick a lot, but I learned a lot too.

Zelda’s smile fell; he was sorry to see it go.

“Because you died, and then you didn’t remember anything,” she said, surprisingly steady. Link nodded.

Bokoblin meat tastes about the same as rotten meat, by the way, he signed, light and playful, trying to earn that smile back. It almost worked, he could see, and he allowed himself to grow more solemn. I… had gotten hurt badly enough that my own strength was not always reliable, so I depended on elixirs to supplement it.

“Where was I?” Zelda asked quietly.

You- Link tweaked her ear gently. Were right here where you belong. But my Zelda was keeping the Calamity sealed in the castle.

Is the strength of your body more reliable now? Catrain asked, eyes the exact shade of calm canniness that he was learning to expect from her. Link hummed and rolled his shoulders with a slight wince. The ralis root was already wearing off.

I think so, he said thoughtfully, pausing to rub his sore shoulder. It’ll never be what it was before I died, but I know how my body works, where its limits are, and how to make it cooperate. I know how to work around the problems I can’t push through.

Catrain’s expression had softened when he looked back at her, which wasn’t what he had been expecting. You seem a clever sort of hero.

Link shrugged. That had always been what the goddess wanted from him. You don’t have to worry about Zelda. I’ll look after her. Zelda was fidgeting with her dress. What’s wrong?

…What did I do that made you leave? she asked, looking small. Link inhaled sharply, held it, and then forced himself to soften, stealing a pleading glance at Catrain, whose eyes were already darkening in realization.

You didn’t do anything wrong, he promised after a moment.

Zelda bit her lip. Then are you going back?

No, Link said, trying to forget how tight his chest felt suddenly. I’m staying, I promise.

Zelda considered him, brow pinched in thought.

Did she die? she asked at last.

Link hesitated.

Yes, he admitted at last. A year after the Calamity was defeated. About a month ago for me.

Zelda had always been remarkably composed, and that seemed to be holding true. She didn’t look upset, only solemn and faintly worried. What happened?

Link glanced at Catrain, on Zelda’s opposite side, out of Zelda’s line of sight. Catrain inclined her head slightly and signed, Gentle but not dishonest.

Being with the Calamity for so long made my Zelda sick, was what he settled on, slow and careful. She never recovered.

Zelda’s composure was breaking a little. Link reached out and tugged gently at a part of her braid, keeping her attention.

We’re doing everything we can to keep things from getting that bad, Link promised. That won’t happen to you, and this- He gestured to himself. Won’t happen to me. Promise. We’re better off now.

Chapter Text

Asking around a little told Link when Selwyn would be finishing his shift, so he made sure that he was lingering nearby when he did, leaning against a hall wall and fidgeting with his gloves.

He’d had time to take a little more ralis root, so one more trip before the end of the day shouldn’t be too much, as long as he was easy on himself.

Link perked up as soon as Selwyn slipped out of the room, only two short minutes after his relief entered, and smiled bashfully as Selwyn’s eyes immediately landed on him. But Selwyn just smiled, invited him along with a wave, and asked, What is it?

You’re going home, aren’t you? Link prompted.

That was my intention, but I have time, Selwyn said, making Link’s cheeks heat up. He shook his head quickly, trying to discard any notion that he’d force Selwyn anywhere else.

Can I go with you? he asked instead.

When he looked over again, Selwyn looked genuinely pleased, smiling warmly and eyes bright. Of course. Your sisters won’t be home for a few hours, but Asher and Honey Nut should be.

Oh, Link hadn’t accounted for that. He bit down the urge to ask when they should get home. He could push himself a little, for this.

They took the winding path down and out of the castle grounds, the one that was wide and paved, with carts full of supplies going up and down. Link let himself look around, drifting until he was just a step or two behind Selwyn, keeping half an eye on him to follow along. In the middle of the day, it was pretty busy.

“Asher tells me you covered quite a bit of ground this last week,” Selwyn said after a while, drawing Link’s attention again. Did you enjoy the villages you passed through?

Link nodded. The Maritta Exchange was too busy for me, but I’ve never seen so much unique handiwork in one place. I found a lot of things I wouldn’t have thought of. And Rito Village is a lot bigger than I remember. I liked the temple there.

He trailed off, but Selwyn’s smile had softened, and he waved for Link to go on. Link considered, frowning a little.

The citadel was interesting, he signed at last. There were a lot of areas blocked off, I think maybe weapons stores? And I think maybe something to defend it. I didn’t go up, but I saw some soldiers patrolling the ramparts.

Cannons, Selwyn confirmed. They’re the citadel’s primary line of defense, along with the mountain itself. In an emergency, they’re also well-placed to destroy the bridge.

Link tilted his head thoughtfully, casting his mind back to the intact citadel, and then further, to the ruins. The bridge had been destroyed; he had assumed that the guardians themselves had done it, but he supposed that the rubble matched this better. And there weren’t any walking guardians on the far side of the bridge.

Huh.

Putting things together, he explained at Selwyn’s curious look. I spent some time exploring the citadel ruins. I’d noticed the cannons, but I didn’t realize those were what broke the bridge. He remembered them now, the cobwebs on the inside and the rust.

Selwyn hummed. I thought the citadel ruins were covered in malice? he asked carefully. Link nodded.

But there was a Sheikah tower there, and I needed to get to it for a map of the area. He blew out a breath, annoyed just at the memory. By the end of it, the frustration had outweighed his fear of the malice. I spent about four days exploring that area between the hours I spent trying to find a way up. There was so much evil swamp there that I had to climb some of the rubble and jump across.

Selwyn snorted. Evil swamp?

You haven’t heard the way the stuff growls, Link sniped, smiling a little to take the heat out of it even though the recollection made a chill run down his spine. It’s so noisy I always knew when there was some around, even before I saw it.

Unnerving, Selwyn signed mildly, and Link nodded.

Selwyn didn’t take them down the main street, which Link was grateful for; he led Link through a number of side roads instead, less crowded and less noisy, and ending up, of course, at the same house Grace had led him to only a week before.

Selwyn gestured for Link to go in first, so Link darted inside, sweeping his gaze over the room and tilting his head when he found it empty. He turned around and gave Selwyn a questioning look, and Selwyn smiled and shrugged.

Honey Nut is probably out playing somewhere, he explained. I expect Asher went to keep an eye on him. They’ll be back eventually.

Link hummed and nodded, and out of habit went to lean in the corner by the window, where it was easy to see outside and the rest of the room. He glanced up when Selwyn cleared his throat, and then flushed when Selwyn gently indicated one of the sofas set around the short table.

Link went and sat down, sighing faintly in relief as his weight redistributed, and Selwyn smiled at him and turned to go change out of his uniform. Link fidgeted, taking out his Sheikah slate and rubbing his fingers against the carvings.

…It was strange to be part of a family unit.

Within a few minutes, Selwyn returned, wearing a lighter tunic that Link could still tell had been at least a little enchanted for protection, and sat next to Link, visibly reconsidered, and moved a more comfortable distance away. Link relaxed.

I brought something back for you, Link said abruptly, now that they had settled. Selwyn raised his eyebrows, and Link flicked around his slate for a minute before he found what he was looking for. He popped it out and offered it to Selwyn, waiting until he took it before he continued. I made that a few days into the trip. Dragon scale and fairy dust. It should be about as good as elixirs get before the power starts to make them caustic.

Selwyn suddenly started to handle the bottle a lot more gently, turning it around to examine the delicate fairy wing ornamentation and the narrow neck. “This is incredibly precious, Link. Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”

Link smiled at him, refusing to let his uncertainty show. I keep a couple on me, but I made this one for you. The bottle’s enchanted too. It won’t break.

Selwyn’s gaze turned on him, and Link’s nerves edged up another level. Why did it matter so much that Selwyn like it? Why did it matter that Selwyn like him? He had no idea, but he found himself holding his breath anyway, searching Selwyn’s face for a reaction.

Finally, Selwyn laughed, setting the bottle delicately in his lap. “Do you know, the first thing I noticed about you was how easy it was to believe that you were my son all grown up? You still have all of the same quirks.” He looked at Link, eyes crinkling in a smile. “I watched you catch that horse and all I could think was that you had grown up very well. Everything you’ve done since then has just told me I was right.” He tapped the neck. “I’m sure this will turn out to be priceless, Link. Thanks.”

Link smiled brightly, pleased and relieved, and vaguely gestured for Selwyn to put it away. With a chuckle, Selwyn got up and disappeared into one of the other rooms, the one where he’d gone to change; Link assumed it was his bedroom. Maybe his and Eileen’s.

He sat by Link again and gestured to the Sheikah slate. How does that work? I’ve seen you use it for quite a lot.

Link shrugged. I don’t really know. Zelda was the Sheikah tech expert. But look.

He turned in place, one leg shifting up onto the sofa to rest half-folded between him and Selwyn, and winced a little at the twist of unhappy skin and muscles. He shook it off and placed the slate between them, so he could show Selwyn the different features of the Sheikah slate – the storage feature first, with one or two stored meals and more elixirs, and plenty of his favorite ingredients and materials. The map, some of his notes, the stamps where he’d marked all the places he needed to clear after each blood moon.

Unlike with Robbie and Purah, he skipped over most of the runes, but he showed Selwyn the camera and the album, with some of the pictures he’d taken: each of the divine beasts at their stations, his home in Hateno with his horse still in the stable, one of the enormous pillars of corrupted Sheikah tech that surrounded the castle. By all appearances, Selwyn followed along attentively, making interested and comprehending noises every so often.

After a minute of thought, he also showed Selwyn the communication rune, playing the introduction Zelda had recorded, and it made Selwyn startle and then turn a bright, pleased grin on Link.

“That alone makes me very glad you had this,” he said quietly, tapping the edge of the slate. “You and the princess must have been very good friends.”

Link’s smile faded away, but he nodded, curling up a little in place and tucking the slate against himself.

He was glad he could still hear her voice when he wanted to.

The sound of the door shattered the moment before it could really lower the mood, a commotion making both of them look up. The younger Link skidded to a halt from a dead run just as Link found him, eyes locked onto the two of them with guarded curiosity. Asher was a few steps behind, closing the door, but the care of his motions made it clear he’d already noticed them too.

It’s you again, little Link signed at last, so accusingly that Link wanted to laugh. He smiled instead, nodding at the younger boy.

I’m just visiting, he promised. I picked up a few things that I thought everyone would like while I was away, and I wanted to pass them out.

Little Link hesitated. Even me?

Link clicked his tongue a few times, sympathetic to his confusion. It’s easier to think of us as separate people. It’s basically true, after everything. Yes, I got you something. Come here.

The younger boy scurried over, leaning into Link’s space as soon as he reached him. He yelped softly as Link chose the bracelet set and released them, one after the other, into his lap. Link smiled a little and held them both out, and little Link snatched them up, holding them up for inspection. Selwyn sighed, but it was a fond sort of sound.

They’re both enchanted for protection from both weather and injury, Link explained when the younger boy looked back at him. The sapphire is for hot weather and the ruby is for cold. They won’t protect you in the heart of the desert or the peak of a mountain, but you should be fine short of that. And a red bokoblin could probably beat you about the head with a club and you’d be able to just stand there and laugh at it.

Little Link snorted, and then twisted them both a little in his hands, watching the light sparkle off the gems set between every few chain links. He slipped them both on, jumped a little as the magic took hold, and then said abruptly, They’re pretty.

They are, aren’t they? Link agreed, glad that the younger had liked them. He’d been a little more lost on what to get his younger self than most of the others. Gerudo make better jewelry than anyone.

They feel weird.

“Link!” Selwyn scolded, exasperated.

This time, Link did laugh, short and breathless. It’s because you’re wearing them both. You’re being heated and cooled at the same time. You should put one or both of them away.

Little Link nodded and scampered off, leaving both Asher and Selwyn snickering. Link smiled a little and rubbed the edge of his slate, and then gestured for Asher to come closer. Asher raised an eyebrow. “What, am I being included?” He sounded like he was trying to come off less touched than he was. Link shrugged uncomfortably.

I wasn’t sure about what you liked, he signed haltingly. You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want it.

He tapped the surface of his slate, and both Asher and Selwyn inhaled sharply when a mighty lynel shield materialized on top of it. Link resisted the urge to squirm and picked it up instead, running two fingers along the edge to draw attention to it, and then held it out.

Asher hesitated, eyes flicking briefly to Selwyn, and then took it, weighing it on what Link assumed was his shield arm.

Have you ever seen a lynel shield up close before? Link asked. Asher shook his head, looking slightly skeptical. They’re bladed. It’s useful when you’re surrounded or cornered. He mimed a shield parry with his left arm.

Asher slashed the lynel shield experimentally, mimicking Link, and considered. Then he did it a second time, moving his body weight with it in a more natural attack, and turned a small smile on Link.

“I’ll have to practice with it,” he said mildly, “but it seems like it could come in handy. I assume you picked this up at Lake Illumeni?”

Link nodded, relaxing a little as Asher seemed to accept it. A shield, a sword, and a bow. But the bow’s draw weight is a little much for most people, and the sword is so different from a Hylian one that it’s a bit of a learning curve. Selwyn was looking strained. Link looked away quickly and tacked on, Lizalfos weapons are the same way. They make some three-bladed short swords that are great for parrying, but using them takes practice because the shape is so awkward.

More monster weapons. Why did he change the topic to more monster weapons? The feeling of being twitchy and feral and unsuited for a home crept up Link’s spine again, and he had to squash it down.

Asher sat casually in one of the armchairs and set the lynel shield gingerly at his feet before he signed, I suppose you had to make do with what you could find, if weapons were constantly breaking on you.

Link nodded quickly, relieved. Bokoblin and moblin weapons are shit, but anything else is usually as good as a Hyrulean weapon.

Savage lynel swords were actually much better, most of the time, but he bit his tongue before he could say that. He was rescued from having to say more by the younger Link’s return, and he tilted his head when he saw that the boy had brought a book- no, three books with him. Selwyn was already chuckling fondly.

“If you move over, he can sit between us,” Selwyn murmured, and Link flinched subtly as he realized that if little Link sat on the sofa with them, he himself would be trapped in the middle. Eugh.

He moved over just as little Link reached them, and without missing a beat the boy flung himself between them and sat cross-legged in the middle, books on his lap.

He turned to Link, eyes very serious, and asked him, Mom said you forgot everything. Do you still like philosophy?

As it happened, Link barely recognized the sign for it. He looked down and nudged the books on little Link’s lap until he could see the titles. Cynicism in a Pot, by Kippi Woodsmith. The Art of War, by Sun Tzu. And Compassion in Terminus, with the author noted as Queen Zelda, seventh sage of the sixteenth generation.

Zelda would know exactly how long ago that placed the book. All Link knew was that it was a very, very long time, and it looked that old, too.

He hummed. I’m not sure. What are these?

Little Link grinned at him, revealing a missing baby canine. They’re my favorites! Look, look, let’s start with this one. He picked up the top book, Cynicism in a Pot, and opened it up to set it between them before he started signing again, This guy is a moron, so much, but he had some interesting ideas and also I like to make fun of him-

Link’s unfamiliarity with the topic turned out to be more an asset than a problem; more than being happy to explain, little Link was clearly delighted by the opportunity, intently walking Link through each of the three schools of thought he’d picked out. He chattered about the merits and downfalls of each one, Doge’s rejection of social reality and Sun Tzu’s firm dedication to the physical, how much Queen Zelda’s royal upbringing affected her musings and how little Link didn’t think any of them were right but they were all fun in their own ways.

Clearly disinterested in the conversation, but kind enough not to interrupt, Selwyn and Asher disappeared off somewhere, out the back door, Link thought. Little Link didn’t even skip a beat.

Link followed along, his interest growing with the younger boy’s enthusiasm, and at some point they started to argue back and forth about the merits of Sun Tzu’s ideal of a commander in regular life, and by the time the door opened again Link was having fun.

“Oh, goddess, why,” was the first thing Link heard, making him look up.

Mary had been the first one through the door, and she was eying the both of them with clear exasperation even as she made room for Eileen, two steps behind her and giving them a pleased smile.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” Eileen said, shutting the door with a soft bump. “Welcome home, honey, did you get everything you wanted out of your trip?”

There was a touch of humor in her voice that made Link flush, but he nodded, spinning around to face them. The motion had him biting down a hiss; he’d been so focused on the conversation with little Link that he hadn’t even noticed the herb wearing off, but it definitely had, a sharp, scattered ache shooting across his knotted skin.

Asher and Selwyn went out the back, he explained belatedly, forcing himself to relax.

Eileen paused. S-win? Link jumped guiltily, but in the next moment, she nodded thoughtfully. I like that. Have you been here since he got off shift or did you come later?

I came with him, Link confirmed, and before he could try and go on, little Link waved to catch Eileen’s attention.

He brought presents for everyone! little Link announced enthusiastically. He got me cool bracelets and now I don’t have to wear a coat if I don’t want to!

Link reached up to tug at one blue earring, faintly embarrassed, but Eileen looked pleasantly surprised and Mary seemed blatantly interested, dropping down into a chair not far away. Eileen sat on the other sofa, making sure they had plenty of room, and signed, That was kind of him. Is that why you came to visit?

Link nodded, looking down to swipe around his Sheikah slate. He got Eileen’s first, one after the other, and held them both out to her. Her expression was already softening before she’d even taken them, but when she rolled them in her fingers her mouth opened in a silent breath of delight. The wooden hairstick in her braided bun, with its little horse-head charm, tilted with her head.

“Oh, they look beautiful,” she said softly, and Link gave her a small, shy smile, leaning his weight against the back of the couch with a soft exhale.

They’re enchanted too, he signed. The moonstone should make it easier to see at night, and the sunstone should make it easier to see on bright days.

Eileen blinked, and then laughed, her voice cracking slightly around the sound, and pulled both hairsticks close to her chest. She shook her head once, and then set them on her lap and signed, You know, I ride right into the sun all the time and I never thought of looking for an enchantment to help. This is really thoughtful, thank you. You didn’t have to.

There was clearly more to it than that, or she wouldn’t have reacted so strongly, but Link was hesitant to ask; there was a soft and deep-rooted affection in her smile that was almost intimidating.

Link hummed instead, avoiding her gaze and thinking of Selwyn’s reaction earlier. I don’t mind. It’s good that you like them.

It wasn’t like Link had a lot of practice expressing himself with things like this. How else was he supposed to say I love you, I want to know you, I’m going to try and be good to you? He’d never tried to make friends with someone before; it usually just happened.

And the outcome didn’t usually mean so much to him.

“If you got me something lame, I reserve the right to demand something else,” Mary said, drawing Link’s attention to her. He let out a startled laugh, tilting his head slightly, and she crossed her arms and held his gaze, expectant in a way that was two parts confidence and one part bravado.

“Mariana, do you remember the very first thing I said about him?” Eileen said, sounding as weary as she did frustrated, like this was an old problem. Mary huffed, jutting out her chin stubbornly.

She said to be gentle with you ‘cause you were skittish, little Link tattled in a low aside, eyes glittering with mischief. Link turned deep pink, mortified that he’d been so obvious. He wasn’t supposed to need people to be gentle with him.

He flexed his whole body subtly, trying to work the ache away and maybe find a comfortable position, and considered his response.

That’s fair, was all he said in the end, though now he was a lot more nervous about what he’d picked out. It wasn’t exactly useful, or pretty. He tapped at the edge of the slate for a minute, scratching the corner. You can just ask for something, if you don’t like it. I was kind of guessing for everyone.

He glanced up in time to see wary uncertainty glimmer across Mary’s expression, her arms still crossed, like he hadn’t responded the way she’d expected. She shrugged. Whatever. Show me.

Link dallied for a moment longer, and then finally bit it and released Mary’s present from the slate, caught it by one horn, and held it out in offering. She stared at it, all expression wiped away in favor of open astonishment. He had to shake it once before she took it.

Mama Mare said you liked spooky things, he rushed out as soon as his hands were free, though she wasn’t looking at him anymore. He tapped his feet on the ground, resisted the urge to roll his shoulders again, and tugged at his earring. Eloise is getting the hooves and the heart, and the horns are a popular elixir component too, but I, I thought the skull would look better whole. If. You liked that sort of thing.

He’d carefully cleaned away as much of the flesh as he could, with the help of some red chu jelly and heavy matted moss. It had left the skull a little dirty, but almost entirely free of monster flesh, and a little rinsing had taken care of most of the dirt. It still wasn’t perfectly clean, but Link thought he’d done a decent job.

Little Link let out a few delighted chirps and coos, clearly impressed by Mary’s gift, but Link’s eyes were on Mary, his fingers playing with the end of one braid while he waited for her reaction. She just stared at it, eyes wide and unreadable feelings flickering rapidly across her face.

“I guess this is fine,” she said eventually, with a slightly wobbly tone of disinterest.

“What do you say, Mary?” Eileen chided. Mary set the skull on her lap and rolled her eyes.

“Thank you,” she deadpanned. Link stifled a snicker and just nodded, and Mary perked up a little again, fingers stroking the surface of the skull, testing the sharp point of a horn and prodding at an eye cavity. “What is this, a lynel? It’s huge.” Horns included, the skull was nearly as big as her entire torso.

Link nodded. There was one on my way, and lynel parts are hard to come by, so I wasn’t going to waste it.

Link felt a tug at his sleeve and looked down, and little Link, faintly uncertain again, asked him, Do you have to kill a lot of lynels? They’re supposed to be so mean even Dad’s scared of them.

Link softened again. I don’t have to kill any, he promised the younger, resisting the urge to reach out and run his fingers through his hair. I go out of my way to because it’s safer. I know I can kill a lynel, but if someone else wanders into its territory they’ll get hurt. But that’s my choice to make.

“Hey, what are we supposed to call you out loud?” Mary asked suddenly, without looking up; Link wasn’t sure she’d even caught the byplay. She was still focused on the lynel skull, running her fingers reverently over the massive ridged horns. “I mean, Honey Candy sounds kind of dumb out loud, but it’s not like we can call you Link.”

My name is still L-i-n-k, Link signed, hackles rising involuntarily. Mary rolled her eyes.

“Well, yeah, but we don’t call my friends Rosa and Rosa, do we?” she sniped. “Rosa Jenkins goes by Rosa, and Rosa Bookman goes by Bookie.”

Despite his own best efforts, Link found himself bristling, trying not to snap. But he didn’t want anyone dictating whether or not he could use his own name. It didn’t have to matter that he and the younger Link shared a name, it had never mattered before. No one was taking that from him.

“How about Honey?” Eileen broke in hastily, possibly sensing the brewing trouble. Link deflated, turning his gaze on her, and she continued, “Since you’ve been so sweet so far, and it’s always been a part of your sign name. What do you think?” In a softer tone, she added, “Mother Mare is lovely. I think that’s how I’ll introduce myself from now on.”

Link faltered, caught somehow off-guard, eyes on her.

…He’d liked it every time Eileen called him ‘honey’ so far. He nodded.

“Honey works, I guess,” Mary conceded, sticking her tongue out, and Link barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “So I get to keep this, right? I’m putting it in my room.”

Link snorted. Put it up like a trophy. It’s basically a deer head.

“Hell yeah,” she said, and disappeared upstairs. Eileen shook her head, amused.

“I can’t say you didn’t pick wisely,” she said ruefully, twirling her two new hairsticks between her fingers again. “…You gave us a fright, Honey. Disappearing so soon after we learned about you.”

She didn’t sound angry. She sounded solemn. Link dropped his gaze, uncomfortable.

I needed time to think, he admitted, a touch more honest than he’d meant. There was too much happening too quickly, and I was having trouble keeping up.

Zelda would have said he’d gotten spooked; it happened sometimes, when Zelda had inserted the two of them into Hateno’s community, or when he and a Gerudo girl had (very briefly) tried a serious relationship, or Sidon had invited them into Zora’s Domain and its court for a while.

Little Link bounced and twisted beside Link, who grimaced slightly against the jostling. You should come here next time, little Link said seriously. The attic is good for that.

Link had to keep himself from laughing. I’ll think about it, he promised.

Chapter Text

By the time Grace and Eloise finally arrived, Selwyn and Asher had returned inside, and Link was starting to feel run-down and achy. He’d meant to be back at the castle by now, but he certainly wasn’t going to back out before he’d finished here. He didn’t want to give the wrong impression.

Little Link had roped Asher into playing with the wheeled knights on the ground, and Asher wore an indulgent smile, voicing his characters in a wooden voice; little Link seemed so absorbed in the story he was weaving that he didn’t notice, or perhaps didn’t care. Mary was sketching something out in a pad of paper, Selwyn leaning over to watch, and Eileen… was watching Link, lips pursed in a thoughtful frown.

Link cocked his head, but before she could reply, the door opened, letting Eloise and Grace inside, one after the other. Link sat up a little, pleased, and Grace immediately turned her head, eyes fixing on him.

A moment later, she smiled and waved, nudged the door closed, and signed, Our mysterious new brother is back, I see. I didn’t realize your foraging instincts were only going to get stronger as you grew up.

Link surprised himself by giggling, eyes crinkling in a grin. You have no idea, he said warmly, and then beckoned. Come here, I have something for you and Eloise.

Eloise glanced away from where she was heading towards Mary, eyes bright and inquisitive. I saw my name?

Link beckoned again, a little more insistently than he’d intended, and Eloise and Grace exchanged a glance, Grace smiled, and both of them came over. Grace even started to kneel down like he was still shorter than her, which had him hiding a smile while she laughed at herself.

Most of the others were watching as Link flicked through his slate, though little Link was still absorbed in his game and Mary was pretending to still be drawing. He landed on the parts he was looking for and released them one by one – four lynel hooves, the cleaned heart, and the other dragon scale he’d gotten from Dinraal. Eloise froze, stealing a glance at Selwyn before her gaze was irresistibly drawn back to the parts.

She picked up the dragon scale. Looked at it, looked at Link, and he could almost see the contemplation in her eyes, nothing at all to do with the dragon scale and everything to do with him.

“No more beetle wings, huh?” Eloise said at last, voice quiet and oddly melancholy, and sat down beside him.

Link smiled hesitantly, searching her expression. I can find beetle wings too.

Eloise snorted, traced the edge of the scale with faint wonder in her expression, and put it in her lap to sign, I’ve only ever seen dragon parts sealed up in the castle storage. Where did you even get this?

Link shrugged, reaching up to rub his sore shoulder before he answered. Dinraal passes under the Great Tabantha Bridge at about six in the morning, every morning. She never seems to mind dropping a few fragments of armor.

Eloise put down the scale again. Did you shoot an arrow at the dragon spirit? she asked severely, exactly like Link had seen a half-dozen mothers do. He almost laughed.

I shot two arrows, Link said helpfully. I usually try not to take more than one part at a time, but I didn’t think she’d mind this once.

Eloise was trying to look disapproving, but it was obvious she was trying not to laugh. She looked down, eyes lingering on the lynel hooves, and glanced at Selwyn again before she huffed softly, eyes crinkling.

All grown up, aren’t you? she signed rhetorically, and then stole the hooves off his lap before he could interrogate her on that. Link was still restraining giggles that hurt his whole chest when Grace nudged him from his other side, drawing his attention.

And for your favorite sister? she prompted. Link glanced away for a half second, flustered.

I don’t remember a lot about you, he confessed to the wall, frustrated with himself. So yours was kind of more impulsive than personal. Is that okay?

Grace’s expression softened, and she bopped him on the nose with a single finger, giggling when he instinctively wrinkled it. Of course it is. It’s from you, so I’ll definitely love it. Do you know how many dead frogs and ladybugs I’ve accepted from you?

Link slapped a hand over his side when his burst of laughter made his scarred skin pull and protest, and only when the flare died down a little did he drop it to his slate and pull out the last gift. He wrapped the delicate chain around a few of his fingers and held it out, and Grace accepted it curiously, running the chain between her fingertips and turning the little cage pendant around and around to peer at the sparkling thing inside.

It’s beautiful, she signed at last, a gentle smile on her face as she watched the pendant turn. Link smiled a little and nodded. Is this from the Maritta Exchange?

Link shook his head. I commissioned it from a jeweler in Outpost Town. That’s a star fragment in the pendant; one fell as I was passing through Gatepost. Great Fairy Mija said the enchantment on it should bring you luck, but I’m not sure what that’ll mean for you.

Grace’s eyes fixed on him as he explained, big and bright and steady enough to almost make him falter. Finally, without looking away, she put it around her neck and smiled at him.

It’s perfect, she said without hesitation, and he all but beamed at her.

When he looked up, Eileen looked oddly proud, eyes soft with fondness and her own gift still tucked neatly into a deep pocket. Selwyn had distracted himself fixing something in Mary’s hair, but he wasn’t hiding the smile on his face either.

Relieved that it had gone well, Link pushed himself to his feet, holding his breath until the swelling ache died down again. When he looked up again, everyone was looking at him, and Eileen even looked crestfallen. He blinked and cocked his head, frowning inquisitively.

Are you leaving already? Eileen asked, and before he could even fully process the question, Link was wavering.

…I wasn’t planning to stay long, he said uncertainly, instead of ‘I need to go’ like he’d intended. He’d already been in this house longer than he had most, longer than he ever spent at once with Dorian or Rhondson or Teba. It wasn’t like his house in Hateno; it wasn’t like living with Zelda, sleeping together and eating together and taking care of her through the night and then all day too.

He didn’t live here. This wasn’t home. And he couldn’t curl up and rest in someone else’s home.

Grace promised to make salmon meuniere, little Link offered, sitting up as he was distracted from his play. I was going to help her. You can too if you want.

Link hesitated, picking at the cuff of his sleeve for a minute. The ache from the morning was back in full force now, and he was exhausted; every motion sent little shoots of pain through his skin like it was threatening to tear. His spine tingled dangerously.

But.

No way, we still haven’t talked elixirs, and I need to pick his brain, Eloise signed crossly. You can have him another time.

…Okay, Link gave in, helplessly confused, and a little bit warm despite himself. Little Link huffed, giving Eloise a resentful look that clearly didn’t have any heart in it, and hopped to his feet, darting over to tug at Grace’s hand.

Grace laughed, waved, and the next moment they were out the door, probably to go to the market.

Eloise beckoned impatiently, and with some bemusement, he went to sit beside her.

“…I heard you, in the alchemy lab last week,” Eloise said at last without looking at him, soft and awkward. She looked young. Younger than Link felt, most days. He winced.

Sorry, I didn’t think of that, he signed, abashed. It was easy to forget that voices had more carrying power than sign did, less dependent on angle and attentiveness. He thought a little more, picked at a loose thread on his sleeve, and then added, You didn’t need to hear any of that. Forget it.

Eloise took a deep breath, and then straightened up and said briskly, “Nonsense. Did you notice you’re nearly a decade older than my littlest brother and you’re still younger than me?” Link blinked, because he’d kind of noticed that but hadn’t quite thought about it that way. Eloise glanced away. “Anyway, I figured you didn’t need to be on your feet that long. You’re already scrunching your nose like that time you twisted your ankle.” Link didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Eloise, what are you talking about?” Eileen interrupted patiently, though Selwyn was already stiffening with realization, looking cross enough that Link avoided looking at him once he noticed, uncomfortable and fidgety. He shook his head at Eloise. Eloise stuck her tongue out at him.

“Link’s got a chronic pain problem,” she revealed without hesitation. Then, rushing as Link’s jaw dropped, “And he gets tired. And there was something about range of motion.”

“Ahh!” Link snapped at her, pulling away indignantly. You- why did- what the fuck?

Eloise shrank a little but didn’t look apologetic, though there was color coming to her cheeks, her fingers rubbing together anxiously. “It’s just our parents here, Honey. They should know.”

I’m fine, I have it under control, Link said tersely, and pushed himself to his feet. I’m walking back, I only meant to stay an hour or two.

Asher and Selwyn flashed each other a couple of half-formed hand signals, and then Selwyn was up, circling towards Link from a respectable distance away while Link eyed him distrustfully. But Selwyn just smiled, stayed out of arm’s reach, behind the sofa where Eileen was seated, and said calmly without breaking Link’s gaze, “Thank you for saying something, Eloise. I’m sorry, Honey, I should have thought of that when we left. You’re welcome to stay the night, but I can walk you back if you need.”

Link wavered, torn between watching Selwyn’s striking eyes and the hand he’d dropped to Eileen’s shoulder, massaging it reassuringly. Selwyn’s tone had thrown him off-balance; Link’s temper was hard to maintain at the best of times, and he was tired and aching and felt too vulnerable here, humiliated by Eloise's unprompted exposure. He hurt all the way down to his bones.

He didn’t know how to convey both that he was perfectly fine, and that he was tired and wanted to lay down.

I only meant to stay an hour or two, he repeated, stuck on that.

Silently, Asher slipped out the front door, and Link didn’t watch him go, attention on his family. Even Mary looked worried, expression pinched with uncertainty so the wine-stain birthmark on her cheek wrinkled.

The trapdoor to the attic was closed.

Link tossed his head irritably, hissed, and turned, stalking with a panther’s tread towards the front door. He could come back another day and apologize to Grace and little Link for leaving without saying goodbye. And be more careful to make sure Eloise didn’t know anything he wanted kept quiet. Right now, he just wanted to take something for the pain and sleep.

He heard Eileen coming before she grabbed his hand, but it still made him freeze, humiliation and displeasure twisting together in his chest.

“Please stay, Honey,” Eileen said, quiet but firmer than he would have expected. “I promise Eloise meant well. We’re just worried about you.”

Link clenched his jaw and glanced balefully over his shoulder, meeting Eileen’s eyes. Eileen’s expression was set and calm, but there was a tension around her eyes that read as fretful. There was a little twist at the corner of her mouth.

A little twist at the corner of her mouth.

Link blinked.

(Link remembered-)

(He’d fallen off the roof on a rainy day, and he’d hurt his ankle when he fell. He’d curled up on the ground there, biting his cheek and trying not to cry, and Selwyn had been the first to reach him, arriving at a dead run.)

(Selwyn had dropped to his knees, careless of the mud, and he’d leaned down and said firmly, “Let me see.”)

(And Link had without hesitation, uncurling just enough to give Selwyn access to his hurt ankle. He’d whimpered when Selwyn touched it. His vision had been blurry with tears.)

(He had been scrunching up his nose.)

(Eileen and Grace had been the next to reach him, and Grace had taken his hand and squeezed it, and Eileen had crouched beside Selwyn, eyes worried and a little twist to her mouth.)

(“It’s not broken,” Selwyn had said, after a few gentle touches, and he’d smiled at Link, steady and comforting. “Asher already went for a doctor. You’re going to be fine in no time, you little monkey.”)

“Link? Are you alright?”

Link blinked again, slowly refocusing to meet Eileen’s eyes again, off-balance as a new memory always left him. He wasn’t sure how to react, other than the abrupt realization that he… didn’t want to leave after all.

Eileen was a hair shorter than him, her head tilted up to look at him.

Gently, he tugged his hand out of her grip and signed, It’s nothing I’m not used to. It’s just been a long day. I’ll be alright.

Eileen huffed half a laugh, shoulders falling a little. I know, but it would make me happy if you let me make sure you rested. I worry. With a faint glimmer of wry humor, she added, You’re my youngest, baby, I always worry about you.

Goddess. Link wasn’t sure even Teba worried quite like this.

Asher went to the apothecary, Eileen added, coaxing. At least stay until he gets back.

Link gave in. Alright.

He let Eileen lead him back to the sofa not occupied by Mary and Eloise, now sitting together again, and grunted when he sat down. He fidgeted with his fingers, his focus slipping as the fatigue set in, and stiffened a little when Eileen pressed lightly on his shoulder, encouraging him to lean against her. She stopped.

“Too much?” she asked, with the first trace of uncertainty in her voice.

...Can we switch sides? Link asked, without explaining that his right side was his worse one, and that resting his weight on it would send fire burning all the way down his ribs and stomach.

Without hesitation, Eileen rose, helped him scoot over, and sat on his left. Then she tugged him down again, letting his head rest stiffly on her shoulder.

After a few moments of quiet where none of them moved, Link sighed and closed his eyes, ears pricked so he could still hear everything that went on. A minute or two went by, and then the soft scratching sound of Mary’s pen on her sketchbook started up again. Selwyn walked over and sat down on Eileen’s other side, and Eloise let out a quiet sigh, and then disappeared out of the room, opened the trapdoor, and started doing something upstairs, walking back and forth across the ceiling.

Eileen was warm where he leaned against her, and her arm tightened around his shoulders when a small flare of pain made his whole body twitch, trying to escape the fissures burned into his skin. Rain pounded against the windows and the roof. Link twitched again, pushing down the grimace that wanted to form now that he wasn’t otherwise occupied.

Eileen reached up to wriggle the hair tie off Link’s ponytail, letting his hair fall around his shoulders, and he let her. She unwound the braids next, the right one and then the left, combing the careful plaiting out with gentle motions.

He let her do that, too.

It wasn’t until he heard something outside that Link pushed himself upright, frowning at the door just as it opened, and caught Selwyn reaching for his sword at the same time. But it was only Grace and little Link, an ice bucket of fish hooked on Grace’s elbow and a few bundles of vegetables clutched against little Link’s chest, and then Asher behind them; they must have run into each other on the way back.

Asher made a beeline right for the three curled up together, leaving Grace staring after him with her brow furrowed slightly in worry; Link wondered how much she’d been told already. But little Link tugged her along, urging her eagerly into the kitchen, and she went without a fight, turning back to smile down at the little boy.

“I panicked a little,” Asher admitted readily, leaning against the back of the sofa to give Link the same mild-mannered smile he had in the underground spring. “Have you ever taken a tincture of Hylian lavender before?”

Hylia in the skies, lavender sounded amazing at the moment. Link nodded.

He didn’t realize what he’d admitted to until Asher’s smile surrendered an edge of melancholy, but before Link could react, Asher just asked, “How much do you usually take?”

Most of Link’s knowledge about pain-relief herbs had been from a thorough interrogation of a Zora doctor, Rutela. She had said two or three units was enough for most serious injuries; when the malice amassing inside Zelda’s body began to eat away her organs, she’d prescribed absolutely no less than six units, twice a day, and more if needed.

Two units is okay, Link said meekly, too embarrassed to meet Asher’s eyes.

“That’s not what I asked,” Asher said. Link stared at him, then dropped his gaze.

His skin burned to the point of hysteria. It had been hours since he’d taken even the ralis root, and he was exhausted, and he was safe. And he didn’t have anyone who needed him right now.

I take four, he admitted. If I really can’t stand it and Zelda doesn’t need me.

It had been a relief when Rutela’s apprentice had moved in with them. Neither of them enjoyed the days when Link watched himself wash Zelda’s face and braid her hair back and cook because he couldn’t bear to inhabit his own body. Zelda had joked once or twice that it made him a terrible conversationalist.

(He missed her.)

Asher’s face went flat and unreadable, obviously taken aback by the admission, and without hesitation, Selwyn plucked the bottle and syringe from his hand, drew exactly four units of tincture, and offered it to Link. Without a word, Link accepted it, flushed it under his tongue, and let it sit, hyperaware of the eyes on him.

He gave the syringe back to Selwyn. Thanks, he signed, without looking up, not even wincing at the bitterness spreading across his tongue.

Selwyn nodded, but his expression was tight, and after a moment he closed his eyes, visibly gathering himself. Link tilted his head, unsure, and then Eileen caught his attention, gentle fingers on his chin steering him to look at her before letting go to rest on his knee.

“Thank you for coming out here to see us today,” Eileen said, oddly intense. “All of us were extraordinarily glad to see you, Honey.”

Link hummed, not sure how to respond to that, and Eileen just smiled at him and guided him back down, his head landing on her shoulder again, earning a grunt from him. Then her hand dropped to his and held it, and Link looked down and realized that her hand was slightly bigger than his, only noticeable because they were so close together.

A little belatedly, Link swallowed the tincture.

He wondered how long it had been since someone had held him.

Chapter Text

They didn’t eat dinner at the table this time.

By the time Grace and little Link finished cooking, the tincture had kicked in and the whipcord tension had relaxed out of Link’s body, letting him doze against Eileen. The room felt warmer, the sound of the rain and footsteps quieter, and Eileen’s hand around his inexplicably occupied most of his attention.

Eloise returned downstairs just as the youngest popped in to tell them dinner was nearly ready. She padded over to the sofa where their parents sat and murmured to them, “I set up the cot upstairs. Do you think he’s going to make it up?”

“Thank you, Eloise,” Eileen said, just as quiet. “We’ll see how he is after he eats. If he’s tired enough, I might just stay here with him overnight.”

Link let out a sleepy, inquisitive grumble, not quite interested enough to actually form a question, and Eileen squeezed his hand reassuringly. He settled again, cheek pressed to Eileen’s shoulder, and sighed, feeling oddly content.

“…Mom,” Eloise said, this time not so much quiet as it was thin. “He still looks really young.”

“Children grow up fast, don’t they?” Eileen murmured back, not without a touch of humor. “It’s alright, Eloise. The most important thing is that he’s home now. We can look after him as long as he’ll let us.”

“Do you really think…” Eloise trailed off without finishing, voicing enough uncertainty that Link stirred a little, turning his head to blink up at her. She didn’t look away.

Eileen sighed. “I think that we always knew Link was a little different. I didn’t find it as difficult to believe as I should have, really.” A few moments of quiet, and then Eileen added, “Your brother’s always had a good heart on him, and not an ounce of fear.”

“Maybe he should,” Eloise said, and then straightened up. “I’m going to help Grace and Link bring food out for everyone. Mary, are you coming?”

“If I have to,” Mary said, but she was already closing up her sketchbook and laying it aside. “…And for the record, I think we should have known as soon as Dad figured out Link was going to grow up to outclass him.”

Link grunted softly, pushing himself up a little as Eloise and Mary went to help. Are we getting up? he asked, muzzy enough that he actually wasn’t sure. They’d eaten at the table last time, but Eileen and Selwyn weren’t getting up.

Eileen and Selwyn both chuckled, and Selwyn said, “Your siblings are going to bring the food here, I think. You look too comfortable to make you move.”

As if to illustrate the point, Link yawned, dropping back down with another grunt. Don’t let Eloise scare Honey Nut. He has more strength in him than you think.

He was too muddled to read the looks Eileen and Selwyn exchanged, but after a moment, Selwyn gave him a nod. “Of course he does.”

A moment later, a hand landed in Link’s hair, and he was too sleepy to tell who it belonged to; he just turned his face instinctively toward it, murmuring meaninglessly into Eileen’s shoulder.

This was a sense-memory, he registered dimly. He’d curled up like this a dozen times before, against Eileen, but other people too – Selwyn, probably, maybe Grace, Eloise. Mary? Asher? People he loved.

All the same, he brushed someone’s hand away before they could take the Sheikah slate off his hip; he’d never let his weapons out of reach before and he wasn’t going to start now. Eileen took a breath, and Selwyn murmured, “Leave it, Eileen,” and she did. Link relaxed again.

Footsteps came from the kitchen before he started to make out voices, but he didn’t stir this time as Asher asked, “Is he up to eating?”

Link yawned and nodded before either Eileen or Selwyn could answer for him. He didn’t protest when Eileen helped him to sit up, though, and took a moment to let himself feel a little dizzy with the relief of how much moving didn’t hurt.

I can feed myself, he said belatedly, blinking open heavy-lidded eyes in time to see Selwyn hide a smile. (Eileen didn’t bother.)

“Honey’s eating too!” Asher called over his shoulder, and then disappeared back into the kitchen, returning a minute later with a plate in each hand – one for Eileen, one for Link, a well-cooked filet of salmon and a modest pile of sautéed vegetables. Eileen took them both and set one in Link’s lap, waiting until he had a hand on it before letting go.

Link thought abruptly and vividly of helping Zelda drink, not letting go of the glass until he was sure she had strength enough to hold it.

He gave Asher a small, grateful smile, and then turned his head to watch the others file in – Eloise had two plates too, and gave one to Selwyn with a wry glance at Honey before sitting in a chair with the other. Grace and little Link shared the other chair, both their food on a single plate and little Link perched on the arm beside Grace, half across her lap. Asher sat with Mary, and Selwyn and Eileen both stayed with Link.

This time Link mostly watched while the others spoke, slow and heavy-lidded blinks blocking snatches of the conversation even when he kept up with who was speaking. Mary liked grooming the horses more than she did exercising them. There was a stable boy who kept flirting with her, and who she refused to give the time of day. Grace was helping sort through ancient legends, and with what she humorously referred to as ‘recent developments’, it was very strange. Little Link had a friend named Sera, and little Link wanted to maybe go with her on a day trip soon.

At some point, Link finished eating, let his head drop back down against Eileen’s shoulder, and yawned. She was so warm, and she pulled him closer every time he started to slip, letting his cheek nestle down against her arm until he was sighing contentedly.

A little hand prodded at his face, and he hummed and batted it away. There was a soft giggle, and small fingers tugged at his hair. Link let himself smile and batted little Link’s hand away again without opening his eyes.

“Sleepyyy,” little Link cooed in amusement. Honey inhaled sharply, face scrunching, as the younger tugged at his clothing, clearly intending to climb up and onto him.

Eileen headed the boy off, though, gently nudging him back down. “Careful, sweetheart. Honey isn’t feeling well, so you shouldn’t be climbing on him.” Little Link grunted, and Honey felt the sofa shift as Link leaned on it. He must have signed something, because after a moment, Honey heard Eileen reply, “Not right now, but he has old injuries that bother him, like your father does.”

Link blinked his eyes open and reached out to pat little Link’s head lazily, because he understood the impulse to climb things and little Link was small enough that couches and people still counted. Little Link pushed his hand aside and studied him very seriously, brow furrowed, and then poked Honey’s nose. Honey wrinkled it, and Link smiled at him. Honey snorted and then turned his face into Eileen’s arm again, hiding half of it.

Just a second or two later, Link heard the younger one scamper away, and the sound of Grace’s laugh shortly after that, then little Link’s. He hummed quietly, and Selwyn chuckled.

“I think it might be time to put him to bed,” he murmured. “Honey? Are you with me?” Honey hummed noncommittally, then craned his neck to look at him. “Do you want to walk up on your own or should I carry you up?”

Ugh. Link grumbled wordlessly and burrowed into Eileen’s side, close enough to feel her laugh. “Well, he’s apparently not walking up.”

Selwyn hummed in amusement, and then crouched down beside Link. “May I carry you up?” he asked, with more emphasis and a bit of a laugh in his voice.

Link grunted an affirmation without thinking about it, and was somehow still surprised when Selwyn reached under him and, with a grunt, lifted him up against his chest. Link grabbed onto Selwyn’s shirt and opened his eyes, looking around in confusion. One of Selwyn’s arms was cradling Link’s upper body close, and the other was supporting his legs. Link frowned for a few moments, and then abruptly decided he was too tired to care and let his weight fall against Selwyn again, making him grunt.

“No, I’ve got him,” Selwyn said to someone. “He’s not a big boy, he just has a lot of muscle weight at this age. Asher, can you help me get him up to the attic?”

He started moving, and Link subconsciously clung to him, startled by the feeling of being carried. That only lasted a couple of seconds before a feeling of déjà vu and safety hit him, and he relaxed again.

This had happened a lot too, a long time ago.

Link woke up slowly the next morning, sleep clinging to him in tendrils, and listened to the muffled sounds of training for a while before he truly registered where he was.

He was in the Hallowells’ attic, on a cot that had been placed under the large window. His pain had dropped back down to slightly-above-normal levels, so he assumed that it had stopped raining, though he would have to actually rest this time if he wanted his injuries to finish calming down.

He pushed himself upright, peering outside, and found that it overlooked the street, which was currently occupied by… Selwyn and his younger self. It looked like little Link was running sword drills.

He pushed the window open and leaned out, watching curiously, and the lack of obstruction meant that he could hear Selwyn’s voice more clearly.

“Start from the sixth step and work your way backward,” Selwyn instructed, all of his focus on his son. “Finish with the sixth step again.”

Little Link looked almost as intent, and without hesitation he ran through a series of forms that Link knew for a fact Oliff couldn’t have managed, not with anything like that kind of speed and grace.

“Stop,” Selwyn said, and Link stopped, perking up to look at Selwyn, head cocked. “Try the last few again. Pay close attention to the tenth step.”

Somewhat more slowly, little Link refocused and repeated the last few steps, working through them one at a time. Paused, and then did it again with more confidence. Link picked out in a couple of seconds what he’d changed – he’d been leading with the wrong foot, and it would have tripped him up on the turn.

“Perfect,” Selwyn said warmly. “Take it from the third step and go forward, then back.” Little Link signed something. “Yes, three back to three and then to three again.”

Link crossed his arms over the windowsill and rested his chin there, watching in fascination. He’d remembered a little of Selwyn’s training, a long time ago, but that had been a memory from a much younger age, and he’d clearly adjusted over time.

Little Link ran the same two-handed sword drill no fewer than three dozen times, in increasingly complicated sequences, not a single mistake slipping by uncorrected. Link watched his younger self, with intense focus, run it backwards, odd numbers and then even, nearly a dozen full times before finally getting it absolutely perfect.

Link had no idea how long they’d been at it before he woke up and started to watch. But he had to wonder. He hadn’t retained any of this, really; all of the technical knowledge, the steps and the exact drills and combinations, had slipped from his mind, almost certainly irretrievable. All he had was the muscle memory, and it turned out that was the really important thing.

Eventually, Selwyn glanced up and happened to catch Link’s eye, and called up, “You can join us if you’d like!”

Little Link twisted around, surprised, and then took one hand off the sword to wave up at him.

After only a moment’s thought, Link nodded, waved back, and then closed the window. He ran a few quick stretches, the usual routine to keep his scar tissue loose, and then brushed his hair, braided it, and darted down the ladder.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” Selwyn asked, looking more interested than concerned. Little Link perked up too. Honey cocked his head, unsure of what they were expecting.

I’ve watched T-e-b-a, Teba- He made a gesture with his hand meant to imitate the lay of feathers across Teba’s head. Train his son before, and the differences between you are interesting.

Selwyn raised his eyebrows, fondness flashing across his face, and gestured for him to go on. Link shrugged.

Teba is a pretty blunt man, so his criticism is harsher, he explained. And he doesn’t praise his son as often. But he’s not as strict. He doesn’t make his son repeat drills as much as you do. He shrugged again, a little embarrassed by the scrutiny. It’s just different. Teba is- was a good friend of mine, so it was the first thing I thought of.

Dad is better, little Link signed with conviction, and Link had to bite down a laugh. Who’s Teba? Is he a Rito?

Link nodded. He helped me recapture one of the weapons the Calamity turned against us. A great archer and one of the best fliers they have. Steadfast too.

Rito are good at that, little Link agreed, and Honey couldn’t quite suppress a smile of his own. Little Link shuffled his feet then, looking uncertain, and Honey grunted encouragingly. Are you gonna start teaching me too?

Link blinked, and then shook his head without even thinking about it. Absolutely not, I’d be an awful teacher. I lost all the technical stuff with the rest of my memory. Maybe I remembered how to use a sword when I remembered nothing else, but I couldn’t do what Dad is, running through the drills in different ways.

He turned pink when he realized what he’d called Selwyn, and pointedly refused to look at his face, not sure what reaction would make him more anxious.

I didn’t mean to interrupt, he signed instead. Should I go?

Only if you want, Selwyn said. I’m sure this can’t be very interesting.

Link shrugged, and went to sit on the sidelines and watch as the two of them kept training.

He looked up when someone approached some time later, and Grace smiled at him, sitting next to him with her legs crossed under her dress.

Good morning, sleepyhead, she signed warmly. Feeling better this morning?

Link gave her a small smile and a nod. It’s stopped raining, and I always sleep pretty well on lavender. Have you eaten yet? Grace raised her eyebrows and shook her head, and Link swiped through his Sheikah slate to grab a bowl of honeyed nuts, which he set between them. Grace beamed.

I think you have a bit of a sweet tooth, she teased, and then took a handful of nuts and popped a few into her mouth. Link did the same and snorted at her.

They’re a good snack for the road, he defended, amused.

Candy always is, Grace tossed back, and then ate a few more. And then, completely unprompted, You know, I never understood why Honey Nut let Dad train him so hard. I don’t know another five-year-old in the world that would run drills until their hands blistered. But I guess it makes sense now.

Link blinked, startled, and then looked over to watch little Link and Selwyn train for a few seconds. Little Link’s focus was unwavering, almost intimidating, and now that Honey looked for it, it did seem out of place on a nine year old.

I didn’t think about it that way, he signed belatedly, glancing back at Grace. Did his… my hands really used to blister? That seemed a little much. His own had too, once or twice, but only in harsh, long weeks with too much fighting.

Grace nodded, not smiling for once. Dad was pretty hard on you when you were younger. Mom always said it was because he was so scared you’d get hurt when you finally became a knight, but she was worried too.

It was hard to picture, and not just because Link had woken up with his hands already well-callused. But then it occurred to him.

Scared as in battlesick? he asked.

Surprise flashed across Grace’s face, but she nodded. Mom explained it to us girls, but you were too little. And he’s gotten a lot better in the last couple years, so I’m not sure Honey Nut knows the details. Did she explain when you were older?

Link shrugged. I don’t know, sorry. But I recognized it- He hesitated, embarrassed, and then cut off the rest of what he was going to say about that and finished, And that really only happens with stuff I knew very well.

Grace gave him a sideways look, clearly noticing the stilted phrasing, but didn’t pursue it. She nudged the bowl of nuts closer instead, reminding him to eat, took a few more, popped them in her mouth and said instead, You should visit again on Saturday. Sometime in the morning. Sera’s family is going to the Maritta Exchange and invited Link along, and Mom’s been getting restless so she’s thinking about taking the rest of us too. Dad and Asher will be busy, but everyone else is coming.

Link tilted his head, unsure. I wouldn’t want to make things difficult.

You never do, Grace said without hesitation. It’ll be fun. You loved the Exchange when you visited it last week, didn’t you? And Mom heard that there’s a shipment of foreign spices and produce arriving by then. You could try some.

Link found himself smiling. Alright. I’ll try, okay?

They worked their way through the rest of the bowl of honeyed nuts, and then cut up a voltfruit to split with her too. They were just finishing that when Eloise came outside too. She sat on Link’s other side, and he reflexively pushed himself backward, so he was no longer trapped between them.

Eloise pretended not to notice, but was too slow to hide her disconcerted look. They both turned to face him, though, forming a triangle where it was easy to see all of them.

It was possible Eloise had started to say something, but Link interrupted, eyes wide. You have flowers in your hair, he signed, delighted.

Eloise blinked, startled, and reached up to touch her hair, woven into a beautiful lace braid that ended in a pretty braided side bun. The bun was scattered with wildflowers. After a moment, she smiled at him. Do you know how to do that? she asked, and Link shook his head. Want me to teach you?

Link nodded enthusiastically, and Eloise moved closer, undoing her work without hesitation and then redoing it to show him, step by step.

By the end of the hour, Link’s braids had been redone to include some of the tiny daisies that had been in easy reach, and he and Eloise had moved on to talking about potions.

Link found himself smiling so much that his cheeks ached, and he didn’t mind at all.

Chapter Text

“The prodigal son returns.”

It only took Link a moment to locate the source of the voice, easily finding Ambrose beside Cedric, smirking in a way that didn’t do the least little bit to hide his irritation. Link tilted his head, the corners of his lips turning down.

Do you have a problem? he asked evenly, letting his fingers flick, projecting his annoyance.

Ambrose backed down, a pass rather than a retreat, and Link returned his attention to Cedric. Selwyn wouldn’t be on duty until later, so he’d be rejoining Link shortly, but he’d wanted to notify Purah and Robbie first. Apparently there had been a lot of people awaiting Link’s return, a strange thought.

Link kind of wished he’d checked on Purah and Robbie too. It would have been more fun.

Cedric’s lips were pressed tightly together, whether at Ambrose or at Link anyone’s guess. But after a moment he relaxed enough to say, “We’ve been working on diversifying weapons training, but I want to give everyone another week before anyone attempts the trial.” He gave Link a lingering, speculative look, and then said, “I want to see how you approach fighting a group. If it’s easier, you can lead by example.”

Link shrugged, unfazed by the prospect of taking on half a dozen of the guard or more. That’s fine. Don’t they need more notice though?

“No,” Cedric said without inflection. “This is our top priority at the moment, and there’s a substantial portion of the guard in the training ground. It’s been quite busy lately. Everyone is working hard.”

Link’s cheeks flushed with a little color this time, but he didn’t look away.

“Half a dozen of the junior guards would probably be apt,” Cedric continued. “Does that sound about right?”

Link cocked his head, considering. He nodded. That should do it, but better if they’re more middling than very new.

“Done,” Cedric agreed. He beckoned Link on, leading him out to the field through hallways he clearly knew by heart, while Ambrose took up the rear. He’d expected more of them in the royal guard quarters, but that was silly; it wasn’t that large. “Asher tells me you were gathering intel while you were gone. Anything useful?”

Link hummed, surprised. Depends on what you consider useful, I guess. I know now that the soldiers take care of most monsters, but there are enough skilled civilians that some will hunt them for pay. I know there’s enough trade that the Maritta Exchange has plenty of enchanted jewelry I couldn’t get in my own time. I learned some aerial maneuvers from Rito dancers in their village, and I know Rito Village is bigger than I remember. You really want me to keep going?

“Familiarizing yourself with your environment,” Cedric said, with some frustrated self-recrimination. “No, that gets the idea across quite well, thank you.”

Link nodded, and then they were out on the field. Link swept his gaze over it, easily picking out the different sparring pairs and occasionally trios, the ones practicing new maneuvers, the ones experimenting with unfamiliar weapons. Almost all of them, he was sure, were using weapons other than their first choice, but there were a few that clearly had experience with the one in their hands as well.

They were also all using royal gear instead of royal guard gear, which made him feel oddly flattered. He hadn’t been expecting to be taken so seriously, so quickly.

“Younger ones are taking to it better,” Ambrose noted analytically, also looking over the field. “Makes sense, they haven’t had as much of a chance to settle into their specialty. Might help if you used a weapon other than your sword too.”

Link hummed in acknowledgement, grabbing his Sheikah slate to flick through it and see what he had. He settled on a forked lizal spear, which had a good shape for catching and redirecting blows and would be even better for keeping them at a distance, and glanced up again when Cedric whistled piercingly.

It only took about fifteen minutes for everyone to fall in, and Ambrose took over to explain the exercise, voice crisp and no-nonsense. He was just finishing up when Selwyn reached them, and Link gave him an uncertain nod before he refocused.

Link didn’t recognize most of the guards that Cedric picked out to fall in around him, though he knew he’d sparred with half of them his first morning in the castle. Two of them bore halberds, one of them a menacing-looking flail, and the remaining three had claymores. Not a one of them had a shield, a poor choice.

Not that he had room to talk at the moment. Still, excitement was rising in his chest, his muscles wound up with anticipation.

He whistled twice, soft and sharp, and on his signal they started to move. The two halberd-bearing guards advanced first; he thought they’d worked together with those before, coordinating their attack so he’d avoid the first and dodge either into the second or in range of the oncoming flail. Link did neither, catching the first halberd in the fork of his spear and slamming it into the second, and then stepping through the new opening to get himself out of the circle and facing the group.

Link was smiling again. He wasn’t used to being challenged in casual fights.

That was how the fight went, with Link paying special mind to swift footwork and quick reactions, catching attacks in the fork of the spear and deflecting them to either side. When he found an opening, he shoved the spear down, so that the guards were forced to lose their weapon or their fingers. With the weapon on the grass, Link would take the first chance he got to swoop in, steal it, and tuck it away into his slate.

Twice the disarmed guard managed to get the weapon back before Link could steal it, one of the claymore wielders and the flail user. The second time it nearly cost him a blow from the remaining halberd; he’d let himself become too predictable. And his dodge almost ran him right into the recovered flail.

His focus narrowed down to a razor edge, Link didn’t really take in the reactions of the guards until every one of them was disarmed, which they seemed to consider the end of the match. This was fair. Even Link didn’t go up against a monster without at least a tree branch on hand.

He finally ground to a halt only a few feet away from where he started, still gripping the lizal spear as if anticipating an attack. It wasn’t until he swept his gaze over the six guards he’d been facing, each of them backed off from the informal arena, that he relaxed.

A couple of them had their heads down, not quite hiding expressions of mixed embarrassment and anger. Two of them looked miserable. Another, the flail user who’d held onto her weapon until the very last moment, was rubbing her fingers.

Link lowered his spear slowly, a little bit puzzled. All that surrounded him was dead air, the silence of the guards around him deafening in its intensity.

After far too long a pause, Link put his spear away, picked up his slate, and started to hand weapons back one by one. The soldiers received them like chastised children, accepting them wordlessly and often with averted eyes.

He paused before handing back the flail, feeling the weight of the spiked ball swaying at the end of its chain. With a silent request for the owner to wait, he stepped back and swung it a few times, fascinated by the way it moved. He spun it once, testing the force of it, and then stepped back again and swiped it twice through the air, both times nearly hitting himself in the leg. He spun himself in a circle, using the flail like a two-handed weapon, and grunted happily at the force of it.

Finally, he gave it back, fingers lingering wistfully on the handle for a split second before he pulled away. The guard took it ruefully, bouncing it in her palm a little before tucking it in its sheath.

Ambrose stepped forward to break the silence, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to whistle loudly. “Alright, that’s enough spectacle. Can any of you tell me what you got out of that?”

“That we aren’t nearly as good as we think we are?” one of them suggested, not without a hint of bitterness.

“Always a good lesson, but not what I was looking for,” Ambrose said dryly. “Try again, and take it seriously this time. We’re not playing games here, you might have noticed.”

“Situational awareness is already heavily emphasized, and strength with it,” another offered after a moment, slow and careful, crossing her arms. One of the claymore wielders, Link recognized, but not the one that had recovered his sword before Link could steal it. “But I noticed the hero… that Link doesn’t fight as if he is strong. His style is defensive, as if he assumes that every opponent is stronger than him.”

She faltered, and another, one of the halberd users, picked up, his voice low and oddly dubious. “He probably would have won faster if he were more aggressive, but he didn’t. He played keep-away with that spear of his and disarmed us. He stayed on the edges so no more than two or three people were in range at a time.”

When they looked at him as if for explanation, Link shrugged, uncomfortable. It was odd to hear his fighting style analyzed like that, and he wasn’t sure what they were looking for. That was just how he’d always fought.

Malice-mad monsters will always be stronger than Hylians, he signed at last, when it became clear they wouldn’t look away without his commentary. Even if you can take a hit, it’s better not to. You don’t always know how hard a monster can hit either. Sometimes they’ve got a nasty surprise.

They didn’t seem satisfied with that. He scuffed the ground, avoiding looking up. He didn’t want to explain the state he’d been in when he’d woken.

“It’s a wise approach,” Selwyn broke in, his voice as kind as it was firm. “I believe the younger guards are simply thrown, since it’s so unusual for someone of your skill level. But it demonstrates an admirable humility, and it’s certainly the mindset we should all approach the Calamity with.” His tone invited no argument. “Anything else, perhaps more specific to approaching a group?”

It descended into discussion, shifting slowly away from Link’s approach and into that of the guard, both individually and together. Link relaxed, letting his gaze flick up to scan their surroundings again. He found he couldn’t quite place the area in his mind, but that wasn’t necessarily unusual; the castle and surrounding area had been so utterly destroyed that it had become virtually unrecognizable. Even the things he did recognize felt new.

Cedric was passively monitoring the discussion, his face unreadable; Link suspected he was making his own conclusions and judgements, but didn’t want to interfere with the thought process of the younger guards. Ambrose was more animated, face shifting minutely between agreement, disapproval, and doubt.

“Link,” Cedric said at last, unexpectedly. Link looked at him in question, and Cedric switched to sign – for privacy, Link quickly realized. Everyone is working hard. After this last week, it would be appreciated if you made it clear you were as well.

After this last week, Link echoed flatly, trying not to bristle against the splash of cold that hit his chest.

Cedric's forehead pinched a little, but he was still hard to read. You unsettled a lot of people, disappearing for so long, so soon after you arrived.

I told you my reasons.

You did. They were good reasons, but very few are privy to them.

Link had to bite down a growl, hackles rising involuntarily. You don’t think I should have done it.

I didn’t say that, Cedric signed carefully, and Link cut him off, his frustration abruptly rising to a rolling boil.

I am working hard! Link snapped, turning to face Cedric and casting aside all illusions of discretion. Stop saying I'm lazy, or irresponsible, or childish or, or fucking anything! I’ve never given anything short of everything! Do you know what it was fucking like when I woke up?

Tears were stinging at his eyes, and he couldn’t stop signing long enough to wipe them away. Months and months of bottled-up feelings were tumbling out of his fingers like water from a falls. Silence was rapidly blanketing the field as people took notice, and Cedric was stiff and still, a deer in the sights of a bow.

I walked out of that stupid shrine with nothing, Link snapped, trembling and furious. No memories, no idea where I was, not even a fucking shirt because it hurt too much to put it on! I barely knew my own name! Disguised travelers kept trying to kill me for no reason! I was having flashbacks to things I didn’t remember! My body hurt all the time and I didn’t know why! All I knew was that I had to beat Calamity Ganon any way I could because stupid I%$* and the stupid kin# told me that before I learned anything else and…

Goddess, he had to stop crying. It had been months since he’d worked himself up into this kind of hysteria, and it had always been Zelda that calmed him down before. He paused to scrub at his face, dropping his gaze from Cedric’s, and kept going as if compelled.

And I still did it, okay? I did all of it, I did it right, and I took breaks because if I didn’t I would have died, or I would have become a fucking animal, but I don’t want to ever hear anyone say that means I didn’t work hard, because I did. It was really fucking hard. And if I have to do it again then I’m going for a goddess damned ride first.

There was more he wanted to say, stop getting mad at me and I’m sorry I’m a defective hero and moving faster wouldn’t have saved Zelda, but he couldn’t put them in order and his hands were shaking and his cheeks were wet and he was gasping for breath.

Hands closed around his to still them, and they were Cedric’s, and they were large and warm and Link didn’t look up.

“You did the right thing,” Cedric said steadily. “The ability to pace yourself is precious and worthwhile. I never meant that you were wrong to take a respite. I thought it would improve morale if you were seen participating in preparation. The king is taking an envoy to Zora’s Domain in a week.” And then, quieter but strong as steel, “And you are not going to be facing the Calamity on your own.”

Link took several seconds to process that, and then wiped his face and nose on his sleeve, uncaring of how childish it seemed. Without looking up, he nodded. I like Zora’s Domain, he signed, feeling small and raw. I'd like to be able to see Mipha and Sidon.

Cedric nodded at him, and then let go. Almost as soon as he had, there was a hand between Link’s shoulders. He stiffened abruptly, but when he looked up, it was just Selwyn. When he looked down again, he found that Selwyn’s knuckles were scraped and bleeding, as if he’d punched something.

Behind them, Ambrose started shouting something pointed and distracting, spurring the heavy silence into activity. Selwyn just herded Link away, gentle and puzzlingly protective, and Link went along with it, still trying to force his roiling emotions to settle.

Where are we going? Link asked belatedly, when they were inside the castle and heading off in a seemingly random direction. Apparently Selwyn had decided Link was done handling the guard for today.

Selwyn took his hand off Link’s back (Link found he instantly missed it) to answer in sign. I was going to take you to one of the upper levels to go out to the roof, unless you’d rather go somewhere else.

Link laughed a little, wet and shaky. I’m not a cat.

I’m not too sure about that some days, Selwyn teased gently.

They didn’t speak again until they’d reached an upper level with a window and a spire, like the one Asher had found Link on two weeks before, and without hesitation Link climbed out to straddle it. It was a relief not to have a roof over his head, and being able to see across the mountains and plains loosened the tension in his muscles. He set his cheek on the slate spire and watched the horizon for a while.

When he finally turned around, he was more surprised that he wasn’t surprised that Selwyn was still there, waiting patiently in the windowsill. He looked more than a little melancholy himself, though he wiped it away almost faster than Link could notice it when he caught Link looking.

Impa thinks that if I’d rescued Zelda sooner, she wouldn’t have died, Link said abruptly. Selwyn shifted, and Link dropped his gaze, leaning back against the spire, knees clenched around the roof like he was riding a horse. If I hadn’t taken a hundred years to wake up, or if I’d moved faster once I did, or both. Impa thinks Zelda could have survived.

What happened? Selwyn asked, without looking him in the eye. Link swallowed thickly.

I don't want to talk about it, he said.

She’d died slowly, over a period of months, in excruciating and unimaginable pain. Link thought that was the worst part: he didn’t have nightmares about sharing her fate because he was afraid of death. It was because he was so damn scared that it would be slow, and agonizing, and inevitable.

Again.

He hadn’t admitted to either of his parents the night before that he carried three kinds of painkillers in his Sheikah slate wherever he went, ralis root and lavender tincture and a dozen stems of cursed stalweed. He hadn’t wanted to explain why. But, power of the triforce be damned, Link wasn’t going to die in pain. He owed no one that kind of suffering.

What do you think? Selwyn asked, drawing Link’s attention back to the present.

Link shrugged helplessly. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last two years, it’s that there are some things I just can’t do. And I think protecting Zelda from that infection was one of them.

Selwyn reached up and squeezed Link’s calf, gentle and comforting.

“Then that’s that,” he said quietly. “I’m sure you did everything you could.”

Link’s breath hitched, and he reached up, scrubbed at his eyes, and nodded.

Chapter Text

About half an hour after Selwyn left to take up his shift, Asher appeared in the window. Link suspected this was not a coincidence.

“I heard you had a bit of a breakdown earlier,” Asher said lightly, leaning on the windowsill. “Cedric feels pretty bad about it. I don’t think he was expecting you to start crying like that.”

Link grunted, not lifting his head from where he was almost dozing against the castle’s slate roof. The rose quartz hair charms worked well; they didn’t make him feel good, exactly, but they’d taken off the hysterical edge of his emotions and let him calm down by increments.

He felt better, anyway.

It’s a sore point, Link said, after a conspicuously long pause. When I was journeying before, every day it took me to get to Zelda was another day she was fighting alone. But… He shrugged, and Asher nodded, like he understood. Link relaxed a little, sighing softly. I’m tired, that’s all. I’ll feel better tomorrow.

He wouldn’t, but he didn’t need to admit that, or that the throb in his skin right now was as much in his head as not. He’d confessed enough to people he only half-knew today.

“Do you want to go to the temple?” Asher asked, and Link was sliding inside almost before he’d processed the words.

Asher seemed content not making conversation on the way back down, and Link let his attention stay on their surroundings, the suits of armor in the hall and the paintings he’d never seen before and staff and nobles bustling back and forth. This was the castle that Zelda had grown up in. This was the castle that Link had, in some ways, grown up in.

Link had loved his home in Hateno from the moment he’d gotten it, when it was just windows and walls, a banister and a staircase. He’d loved it when it was a house and a back shed and a bed. But he’d never been sure whether Zelda liked it, or if she was just relieved to be far away from Ganon.

Asher lingered to sit at one of the reading tables, idly flicking through a book, while Link went right to the goddess statue, kneeling at the foot of it. He lowered his head, put his hands in his lap, and prayed.

Dear mother Hylia, goddess of love and light, please let me speak my worries, my grief, and my hopes.

I miss home. I miss Bolson and Karson, and everyone in Tarrey Town. I miss Teba and Sidon and Riju and Yunobo. I miss Beedle and Purah and Robbie. I miss Zelda. I didn’t realize how much it would hurt to lose them all. I’m not sorry. They would all be so much happier without the weight of the Calamity. But I miss them.

Mother, I wish you hadn’t put so much weight on my shoulders. I know you didn’t mean to, and it’s a small price to pay for the safety of Hyrule. But it’s too heavy for me. I’m more sure of it now than I’ve ever been. It’s too much. I want to rest, but I don’t know if I can. I’m not sure I made the right choice, mother. I don’t want to face the Calamity again.

But maybe today is just a bad day. Yesterday was nice. It was comforting to be able to take my medicine and let someone hold me and rest. I didn’t even have to ask for it. It felt like they just wanted to take care of me. And maybe they did. Is it selfish of me to love them for it, mother?

I’m going to go to Zora’s Domain with Rhoam soon. I want to see Mipha, and Sidon as a child. I don’t remember Mipha well. But I want to. Every memory I have of her is so sweet, and I think I almost miss her anyway.

And… I think I might ask Selwyn what I would need to do to be able to travel for specific reasons. The hot springs on Death Mountain always helped relieve the pain a little, and the spa in Gerudo Town too. I’ve never had to ask permission before though. I’m worried Rhoam won’t understand, or that he’ll think I’m weak for giving in. Heroes aren’t supposed to be afraid of pain.

Thank you for listening to me, mother. Please bid me well as I walk my path.

He spent so long at the foot of the statue that his knees hurt a little when he rose to his feet, and he stretched before going to flick through his slate. After a moment of thought, he sat on the other side of the offering bowls, by the front row, and wove together a half-dozen silent princesses into a flower crown before setting it inside.

Asher was still seated at the table, seemingly absorbed in the book he’d picked out, and Link stopped by the shelf to take one too, not ready to leave yet. By chance, he stumbled across one of the books little Link had shared with him, Compassion in Terminus, and decided to grab it.

Within ten minutes, he was absorbed, and a while after that, Asher put his own book away and slipped out quietly.

It was probably coincidence that Zelda and Catrain found him there later. Zelda even perked up and made as if to approach, but Catrain pointedly steered her back toward the goddess statue, and she deflated. Link glanced up to wave at her, and she gave him a pleased smile before she gave in and went to the statue. If he listened, he could hear her murmuring, rote prayers of devotion and appeal and too much world-weary wisdom for a girl her age.

“I know I’m only one of a thousand before me, mother,” Zelda whispered to the statue, “but everyone is counting on me and I want so much to help.”

Link stopped listening.

It was a while later that Catrain finally let Zelda approach the table, and she hopped up without hesitation and asked Link, “What are you reading?”

Link put the book down and pushed it over so she could see, and waited for her to look back up before he replied. It’s a philosophy book. Looks like one of your ancestors wrote it. It’s about the compassion people can grant in even the darkest of times, and some musings on why some people can find it and some can’t.

“Ohhh,” Zelda murmured with interest, flicking the pages back to look at the inside cover. Why can they?

Link shrugged. I haven’t finished it yet. But she seems to think it’s about trust. Plenty of people don’t believe that they can afford to be kind. If someone doesn’t think anyone will help them when they’re hurt, they’re not as likely to help someone else either.

Do you think that? Zelda asked, leaning forward with wide and oddly earnest eyes. Link hummed, a little bemused by her interest.

She has a point, but it’s not the whole picture. I think that kindness has inherent value, but not everyone does. There are no free actions; action takes energy. So if you think that kindness is a waste of time and resources, you won’t always bother when times are good, let alone when they’re bad.

Hylia teaches that kindness is best freely given, Zelda pointed out, eyes round and oddly beseeching. Link nodded, perking up a little as his mind started to pull together an explanation, thoughts he hadn’t realized he had coming together into a coherent whole.

It is. But that doesn’t mean it’s without cost. It’s work to be mindful of people’s needs, and to go out of your way to help them, and sometimes even just to bite your tongue and choose kind words. But it’s good. It’s important. Kindness is what makes the world worth living in.

Zelda's brow wrinkled, clearly trying to fit this into her current mindset. But then why does it matter what it takes?

He smiled a little, reached up to play with his braid, and then answered, Not everyone has the resources to spare. If you’re grieving, then you might not have it in you to comfort someone else. If you’re sick, you might not want to run an errand for an elderly neighbor. His smile turned bashful as Zelda kept looking at him, her tongue sticking out in deep contemplation. I spent a long time learning to forgive myself for my limits. A couple times I worked myself so hard that I ended up bedridden, and that's not sustainable. It's a hard lesson, but it's important.

I’ll be queen someday, Zelda said unexpectedly, and she was tapping her toes on the floor with intense focus, solemn and unsure of herself. But that still won’t be enough, will it?

Link bumped her foot gently with his, feeling more sympathy than he thought he could articulate. No. No matter how hard you try, you won’t be able to solve every problem in the kingdom. But if you can make things better, then you’ve done really well.

Zelda didn’t look comforted, and Link found that he wasn’t really sure how to fix that. If there was a way to reassure someone who had the weight of the whole kingdom on their shoulders, no one had ever tried it with Link.

Zelda has been enjoying her alchemy lessons, Catrain said unexpectedly, while they were both watching Zelda practice her posture, gliding across the floor in the precise posture Link associated with his Zelda at her best. Every so often, the book on her head wobbled as she struggled to maintain perfect control of her growing body. I was surprised. Research isn’t an endeavor typically associated with the eldest princess.

Link shrugged, half his attention on Zelda not so much out of paranoia as habit. I think mine picked it up from researching the Sheikah tech and explored from there. Has she met Purah and Robbie yet?

I don’t recognize either of those sign names, Catrain admitted. Are those the Sheikah scientists you met with? I don’t believe either of us have met them.

Link nodded, abashed. P-u-r-a-h, Purah- He repeated the ILY-click-snap sign he used for her. Is from a favorite catchphrase of hers, and R-o-b-b-i-e, Robbie- A sideways ‘L’ across his eyes, close to the sign Link used for guardian. Is from a gesture he likes to use and his goggles.

Dignified folk, Catrain said dryly, startling a quick smile out of Link. You speak of them fondly. Were you very close?

“Mm-hm,” Link hummed. Catrain was being unusually friendly. I’m not sure how well we knew each other in this time, lots of things changed after the Calamity. But I know that Purah and Zelda worked together on my communication rune, and that must have taken weeks or months of working together. Not to mention that Purah thought to come to Zelda with the idea in the first place.

I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the communication rune, Catrain said, arching one eyebrow.

Link’s mouth opened a little, and he sat up straight. I didn’t show that to you? It’s the best gift anyone’s ever given me. He grabbed for his slate and flicked through it, scooting just close enough to show Catrain the category screen. He tapped ‘question’ and then ‘herb-look’, and Zelda asked for him, “What does the plant look like?”

“Oh, my,” Catrain said aloud, and then, How close were you, really?

Link tilted his head, studying her for a moment. It seemed a different question from the last time she’d asked. I don’t know how close we were when she made this for me. But after everything we lived together, and we were together almost every day. She wasn’t the first to notice when she started getting sick. I was.

Do you miss her?

I was missing her before she was gone, he said, more honestly than he’d meant to. Then, hastily, I don’t want this Zelda to become her. She deserves better than that.

I think you both do, Catrain said without looking directly at him, and he tilted his head. You wear the weight of too many years for your age, child. Anyone with eyes can see that.

Link shrugged. He knew. I thought you didn’t like me.

I thought you were going to put more pressure on a child that was already under far too much, Catrain corrected. The more I speak to you, the more it becomes clear that you intend to do no such thing. I suppose that’s why you were so adamant about not telling your younger self.

Oh, he already knows, Link said, not liking the way the thought rang a little hollow in his bones. Catrain raised her eyebrows.

You told him? I thought you were against that.

I was. But I needed to tell him something, when my sister brought me home. He pressed his lips together, still unsure of how to feel about this. It didn’t matter though. He knew anyway.

Catrain’s lips parted, solemn comprehension flickering across her face before she shut her mouth again. I suppose the two of you were never going to be anything but far too aware of the expectations placed on your shoulders.

The book on Zelda’s head had stopped wobbling, and she was weaving around the room now, between chairs and bookshelves, slow and careful and elegant, head held high. She looked as focused as Link had ever seen her.

I would have thought you’d have agreed with the king, Link said.

I did, once, Catrain agreed freely. But, goddess above, she’s just a little girl, and she’s too mature for her age already. I worry about what she’ll do if she never unlocks her power.

Link stayed quiet for a moment, and he was almost as surprised as Catrain when his first response wasn’t ‘she will.’

She’ll never forgive herself, was what he signed instead, leaning back in his seat, scuffing his feet along the ground. Just as mine never did for unlocking her power late, and for not being able to finish Ganon off on her own. Zelda has always been hard on herself.

Catrain was still for long enough that Link cocked his head, and then she finally replied, And so are you, I suppose.

…Wouldn’t you? Link said wearily. Catrain sighed.

Of all the generations that it had to go wrong, why this one? she asked nothing in particular. Link shrugged.

Does it really matter? he asked.

Catrain pressed her lips together, but before she could reply, Zelda was coming over, her book clutched in her hands and a determined look on her face. When she reached them, she held it out to Link.

Am I supposed to read it or put it on my head? Link asked, mouth pulling into a smile before he consciously registered his change in mood. Zelda gestured, and he obediently stood up and placed it on his head, holding it there for only a moment to learn the weight and balance of it.

The next half hour was spent letting Zelda lead him around by the hand while he tried to keep the book stable. Link walked like a swordsman, not a princess, so the overall effect wasn’t quite the same, but he liked to think he was getting there no matter how many times Zelda pursed her lips at him like she was trying to figure out how he was doing it so wrong.

“Can I record some stuff for you like your Zelda did?” Zelda asked unexpectedly. Link reached up and took the book off his head to give her a questioning look, and she shrugged, visibly embarrassed. “I saw you and Mrs. Godfrey talking about it. It’s okay if there’s nothing left.”

Link softened, sat down, and let her scoot close enough to him to look over his shoulder while he sketched out the command that would let him add to the communication rune.

I do need a few things, since I’m in a different time and situation now than I was last time Zelda and I added to it, he said. I don’t know everything I’ll need yet, but I have a few ideas if you really want to try.

She nodded eagerly, and he smiled a little, moving the slate to her lap where she could hold it.

I need one to summarize the basic state of the time I came from, Link explained, watching her face for comprehension. That Hyrule was splintered and in ruins, that monsters ruled the fields, and many of today’s villages were destroyed.

Zelda bit her lip, thinking about that for a minute, and then asked, slow and uncertain, “What are you trying to tell people with it?”

Affection spread through Link’s chest; his Zelda had often asked similar questions before she started. Most likely to either explain the gravity of a warning or my- He waved his hand vaguely. Aloof personality. Zelda tells me I was always like that, but at least now I have an excuse.

Zelda giggled, just like he’d wanted her to, and thought about it for a couple more minutes before nodding to herself, tapping the circle, and speaking – slower than his Zelda, not so confident, but every bit as steady.

“Link comes from-” she started. Link reached out to tap her elbow, and she stopped, ducking her head in obvious humiliation. He tapped it again, and she looked up, cringing as if expecting to be scolded.

It’s alright, I didn’t explain well, he signed apologetically. Can you do it in first person? It’s your voice, but I’m borrowing it.

Her mouth formed a small ‘o’, and she nodded firmly and tried again.

“I come from a time where Hyrule had fallen,” she said clearly. “Many villages were gone completely, and it was dangerous to travel the roads. I can’t tell you everything we lost, but it was more than you can imagine.”

She stopped it carefully, and then looked up, visibly seeking approval. Link smiled at her, soft and gentle.

That was perfect, thank you.

Chapter Text

Rhoam had barely closed the door behind him when he spoke, not waiting for Link to rise to face him. “Catrain tells me my daughter's future self died prior to your arrival here. I am interested to know why you didn't consider this important information.”

Link took a moment to process that, feeling a little like he'd been smacked over the head, and then returned his gaze to the fireplace he was leaning against, watching the fire burn. Somehow he felt more wrung out today than he had at the end of the day before. I thought it would be cruel to tell you. There was nothing we could do to prevent it that we weren't doing already.

Unexpectedly, Rhoam went to sit on the rug as well, only a few feet away from Link. He wasn't dressed as a king right now, Link realized; he was in bedclothes, his crown missing, no rings on his fingers or bracelets on his hands. His hair was still braided, a simple waterfall braid as a makeshift crown, but it had loosened over the course of the day, threatening to fall apart.

He reminded Link, inexplicably, of the old man who had greeted Link when he first emerged from the shrine.

I didn't mean to scare her, Link added belatedly. He hadn't even changed out of his day clothes yet. He wasn't sure what time it was, and he definitely didn't know what to do with the all-too-human man who had walked into his quarters uninvited.

She is right to fear for her fate, Rhoam signed, expression dark, and then let his shoulders slump. He looked tired. I myself prefer not to shy away from unpleasant information. I ask you, as a father, not as a king, to tell me what happened to my daughter.

He had had the same expression when he asked Link to save Zelda so many months ago.

Link still wasn't sure. I told Zelda some.

Tell me more.

It was awful.

Don't make this any more painful than it has to be, child.

Link exhaled and unwound just enough to make signing easier, focusing his gaze somewhere around Rhoam's navel. He didn't want to talk about it, really. He didn't even want to think about it, remembered it enough in his dreams and in every other thought that brushed against the memory of her. But Rhoam deserved this much from Link.

The Calamity is the source of all malice, and Zelda was bound to it for a hundred years, Link explained. She got an infection – worse than mine. It started to spawn inside her stomach, her lungs, her bones- and Goddess knows what else. She started to vomit up malice only a few months after being freed.

Link had nightmares about that, about vomiting into a basin and finding it laced with blood and swamp. It had never happened to him, of course, but he'd cleaned it up more times than he could count. He knew the look of it. He knew exactly how many times Zelda had burned herself on her own waste.

King Rhoam looked tired – exhausted. Link almost could have called his expression miserable. Did she suffer?

Link shrugged, and he was glad he didn't speak with his mouth because his throat was too tight to manage more than breath. She had as much lavender as she asked for. It kept the worst of it from reaching her.

First thing in the morning, and any time she asked for it throughout the day. By the end he'd known when she was reaching the end of her rope by the sound of her breath, and he'd always had it out and measured before she needed to say anything. (He'd hated to see her in pain. He'd hated the pinch of the skin around her hollowed-out eyes.)

Link swallowed.

Rhoam lowered his head and inhaled, long and shuddering. His eyes shut tight, hand rising to press against his forehead.

“I knew as soon as she was born that her life would be difficult,” he said after a moment. “The signs of the Calamity had been approaching for years. The volcanic activity, the aggression of the monsters, the long winters and the violent storms- anyone with eyes and ears knew the cycle was reaching its climax once again. My wife and I knew our firstborn would be a daughter. And we knew she would have more responsibility than a child ever should.” He went briefly quiet, took another deep and labored breath, and continued, “I never wanted this for her. I wanted to make sure she was ready.”

Link waited until Rhoam lifted his head again before he replied. I know you did. She knew it too. You did your best.

My best was not good enough, Rhoam signed, with a deep self-loathing that Link knew intimately.

It never is, Link said. His body ached. It was probably just in his head this time.

My best cost my only daughter her life. My best destroyed the kingdom.

Rhoam? Rhoam's best had destroyed the kingdom? Rhoam, who had no role in any part of the Calamity except that which he gave himself?

Rhoam thought he had failed?

Link didn't mean to start crying- really, he didn't. But his lungs tightened until he couldn't breathe, and his eyes burned, and he hiccuped because he'd tried to inhale and whimper at the same time and then, yes, he was crying, temple still pressed to the fireplace and his arms around his stomach. Because it had never been the king's job to protect Zelda and to save the kingdom.

It had been Link's.

A few moments passed with only Link's sobs to break the silence, and then Rhoam had moved closer and was pulling Link against his chest, oddly gentle, one-armed so it would be easy to get away if Link wanted. Link pushed only halfheartedly at Rhoam's chest, because he was large and sturdy and, it turned out, gave good hugs. In seconds Link gave up even the pretense, fingers curling into Rhoam's nightshirt, and keened. Rhoam didn't speak at first, but when Link didn't move away, he started to rub circles in Link's back, like Link was a child.

It was a relief to cry. Like washing out a dirty wound. Like emptying an overfilled jug.

For a while, that was the only sound in the room – that and the crackle of the fire, and Rhoam's breath by Link's ear. Link cried like he hadn't in months, because he was overwhelmed, and he was lonely, and it was so easy for the weight of everything he needed to carry to become too much. And for once he let himself feel sad and scared.

He'd never had a chance, really. But damn it, he had tried.

After what felt like an eternity, Link pushed himself away and rubbed at his face, his outburst reduced to sniffling and hiccups. Sorry, he apologized without looking. That made two breakdowns he'd had completely unprompted. What was wrong with him this week?

There were a few heartbeats of silence.

“I am glad that Zelda had you,” Rhoam said at last. “I don't believe I've made that clear. But I am... unspeakably grateful, for your loyalty to her. That alone I cannot repay.”

Link hiccuped again, trying to wipe the damp away, his breath still hitching and rapid. I miss her, he fumbled out instead, refusing to look up. You would have been proud of her. She was brave and she was loyal and she always tried to do better than she possibly could have and I miss her so much. She was all I had left.

Fuck, Link was going to start crying again.

He eased himself back to the wall, struggling to wipe his eyes and compose himself against the sudden wave of grief, and Rhoam gave him the time, looking weary and tired and a thousand years old.

I'm sorry that I couldn't save anyone, Link said after another minute, when he'd calmed down a little.

“No,” Rhoam said quietly. “I am sorry that it came to that. One day you will understand how young you are, and perhaps then you will realize why I am so determined to divide the burden so that it does not fall so heavy.” When Link didn't reply, he patted his arm. “To bed with you. I apologize for ambushing you so late, for something so sensitive. I was not myself.”

The air in the chamber was heavy and miserable with self-recrimination. Link didn't want to let it end like that.

He pushed away and Rhoam let him go, and Link took a few deep, heavy breaths even as he signed to Rhoam, You were waiting for me when I woke up. You were the only one that was waiting for me, because you wanted me to save Zelda. But you made sure I was on my feet first. He shrugged without looking up, wiping his face again. You let me have as much time as I needed. That... that meant a lot. To both of us. You should know that.

“Of course,” Rhoam murmured, and the atmosphere lightened a little.

The Royal Ancient Tech Lab was a shadow of its counterpart in the depths of the castle, but Link could see just by looking around where it would be built on and expanded and filled out. It had a courtyard full of targets and dummies, large crates of parts and tools lying around, and multiple large sheds that were shut and locked up tightly.

He knocked on the door, but no one answered. He let himself in anyway, glancing around at the sparsely filled shelves, the tables set up and ready, the unfamiliar machinery and large, messy diagrams and, also locked up, the boxes of parts he himself had provided.

Robbie and Purah were both here, deeply absorbed in their work on nearly opposite sides of the lab. Purah was near the door, sketching out one of the smaller ancient cores, half disassembled, from different angles; she had a pile of similar sketches of other parts at her elbow. Across the room, Robbie was working with a large map pinned to the wall, all of the points Link had drawn attention to clearly marked. Robbie had a clipboard, and he was scribbling something down, grumbling inaudibly.

Link smiled a little and decided to interrupt; he suspected they'd been at it since the early hours, judging by the amount of graphite covering Purah's hands and cuffs. He flicked through his slate for a few minutes, and then picked out a simple meal he knew Purah liked and set the seafood curry in a clear spot on the table. She turned to look at it, then at him, blinking owlishly.

He smiled, nudged the curry pointedly closer, and turned to go feed Robbie too.

“Just another minute, the expedition team's notes-” Robbie muttered, and then glanced over and squinted at Link. “You're not Agatha.”

Link shook his head and pushed the plate of mushroom rice balls towards Robbie, who gave him a baffled look and accepted them.

Link dragged a few chairs to the empty table near Purah and beckoned Robbie, who brought the plate over, sat down, and started eating, rushed in a way that said he was intent on getting back to work as soon as possible. Link hummed, amused, and glanced at Purah, doing the same thing.

“How is it going?” Link asked, and then covered his mouth to hide his smile when Purah and Robbie both dropped their food and started talking at the same time. Purah gave Robbie a reproachful look, and he subsided sullenly, letting Purah go first.

“The parts are fascinating,” Purah said, picking up the core to handle it casually. “It's the best-preserved Sheikah technology we've come across – I'd even go so far as to say it was designed that way. Even the oldest machinery unearthed before hasn't rusted, but the screws you gave us weren't even worn down. Were they brand new? Did Robbie or I figure out how to make new ones?”

Link shook his head and searched for a moment before finding what he was looking for. “Ancient technology parts can only be taken from destroyed guardians.” He'd given that warning to other travelers more times than he cared to remember.

Purah's eyes flashed, her head tilting up. “That wasn't Princess Zelda.”

“Prince Sidon recorded a few lines as a favor for a dear friend,” Sidon's voice boomed cheerfully, and Purah hummed, dropped it, and forged on.

“Not much progress on the bow yet, I think given the size differential we'll need to create something that can hold a charge from the ancient cores rather than actually incorporating them. But we've nearly gotten a working model on the sword – you want a longsword? Once we have the short sword it won't be a big leap, but you didn't bring any.”

Link grunted, surprised, and tilted his head. “Who will be using them?”

“Well, you, obviously,” Purah said thoughtfully, rolling the broken core around in her hands. “King Rhoam, and then probably the royal guard will get a few each. But they're too rare to become standard issue, unless we figure out how to replicate the necessary parts.”

The thought was an odd, cool relief against the simmer of the previous day's emotion. He smiled faintly and nodded. “Longsword. Would be good. Battle axe. Halberd.” He shrugged at their looks. “Weapons the royal guard uses.”

“We'll widen our scope a little,” Purah said agreeably, grabbing for another sheet of paper and making notes. “The ones we have existing models of will be easier, we have examples to work from, but after that- sure. It'll be fun.” She flicked her fingers at Robbie and went back to her food, and he gave her a brief scowl before perking up.

“We've sent out expedition teams to some of the locations you pointed out,” he said, waving at the map with one hand. “Only the first has returned so far, the one that was looking around the Hyrule Garrison, but they think they've found what we're looking for. Do you happen to have a picture?” Link shook his head apologetically. “Shame.”

“What about the Divine Beasts?” Link asked.

“No luck there,” Robbie huffed. “Do you have an idea of where to look? I've been trying to find connections and patterns in the locations, but-” He waved vaguely at the map. Link assumed this was because he'd failed.

Link shook his head anyway. “I don't know. I can look next time I go out. I know you dug for them.”

“I would never,” Robbie dismissed, tapping the table restlessly. “I have much better things to do, calculations to run, mysterious energy sources to locate and understand...” Link's mouth twitched into a smile. “Yes, alright, perhaps I'm enjoying the challenge. It would still be easier if I knew what I was looking for. If you did ride out again to search for potential locations, what would you be looking for? Perhaps others can be sent out in your stead.”

Link shrugged apologetically. “Landscape differences. I know places where there were valleys scaffolding canyons and if they look different I will suggest King dug there.”

Robbie sighed, put-upon. “At your earliest convenience, then. Preferably a little earlier.”

Link snorted.

“I will be going to Zora's Domain with King in a week's time,” he offered placatingly. “I will look for Vah Ruta then. Also Rito Village Death Mountain and Gerudo Desert.” He paused, frowned. “Or I will go to Hebra on my own. It is very complicated. There are many possible places and it may take me two or three weeks to search well.”

“No, no, that's not going to work,” Robbie said impatiently. “Work with a team of Rito, that should cut it down to only a couple of days, and then the king is more likely to actually allow it.”

Link blinked, bemused. That hadn't even occurred to him. He shrugged, nodded, and moved on. “That leaves Sheikah Slate. For that I will look elsewhere. Maybe Necluda Sacred Springs or Tanagar Canyon.”

Purah mouthed along to the recitation of location names, and then scowled accusingly at the slate. “That can't be the most efficient way of communicating.”

“I like sign better,” Link said. “Sheikah Slate is slow and stilted and I need to concentrate very hard sometimes. But many people don't know sign and the slate is good for that.”

Purah was tellingly quiet for a few moments, and then seemed to push the thought aside and move on. Link repressed the urge to sigh.

“A couple members of the royal guard said you mentioned a couple different types of guardians, plus something called a guardian scout. Mind giving us the rundown?” Link cocked his head. Purah click-snapped and grinned at him. “You never know what'll come in handy when you're figuring out the inner workings of ancient technology! Plus, I'm curious.”

Link hummed, a little uncomfortable, but gave in easily enough. The next half hour passed in a shuffle of explanations, and only a few minutes in, Link stole Purah's pencil and some of her scratch paper to start sketching out examples. He wasn't a good artist, by any means, but he was passable enough to get the general idea across, and he laid out the skywatcher guardians, the walking ones, the decayed guardians vs the sentries, and then moved on to the scouts and their attack patterns.

“I only came across scouts inside of shrines,” Link explained. “If there were any small ones outside of those then they were most likely destroyed after the Calamity. It is possible being inside the shrine protected them from the malice corruption.”

Purah nodded along, both her and Robbie taking separate notes, and after a minute Robbie pitched in, “We'll investigate any shrines we find and see what properties might've kept their contents safe from the Calamity. Maybe we can imitate that too.”

Link shrugged again, glancing away quickly, and focused long enough to say, “Try not to overwork yourselves. Don't forget we have time.”

Then, quickly, he retrieved their now-empty plates and left, trying to shake off the jitteriness the conversation had left in him.

It was fine. There were no activated guardians in this time, and there probably never would be.

It was fine.

Link rubbed his shoulder gingerly, and then hastily moved along.

Chapter Text

On Saturday, Link took Hush and met the others just outside the front gate of Castle Town.

He was surprised to see most of them gathered into a covered wagon, but on further contemplation he shouldn't have been; it was quite a large group to go all on horseback. A red-feathered Rito had the reins, waiting patiently for the last of them to arrive, and there were a few more in the back – another adult in sky blue, a lavender fledgeling, an indigo Rito nearly fully grown. Eloise, Grace, and little Link were all in the back too, but Eileen and Mary were nowhere to be seen. Grace waved Link over as soon as she saw him.

We're just waiting on Mom and Mary now, she said cheerfully. They'll be here as soon as they finish feeding the horses. Are you all set to go? Did you remember to bring spending money?

Link had to hide his smile behind his hand. Since I am not a child, yes, I remembered to bring spending money. Are Eileen and Mary riding? There doesn't seem to be room for two more unless you crowd in.

Mom would lose her mind if she was stuck in a wagon for three hours, Grace informed him. She was wearing the necklace he'd given her, he noticed. And Mary doesn't go out often, so she likes the excuse to ride. Then, to the curiously watching Rito, This is Honey Candy! He's from Kasuto. It's pretty remote, so don't mind him if he shies away from some of the busier places.

Link blinked, mulled that cover story over for a moment, and then nodded when some of the Rito looked at him. As if waiting for the confirmation, Eloise translated aloud as soon as he did, which meant at least one of them didn't know sign.

He was guessing that the little lavender Rito was Sera – little Link was seated securely next to her – but he wondered who the others were.

Almost as if reading his mind, Grace waved for his attention again and ran through them, fingerspelling the names as needed – the older fledgeling was August, the adult in the wagon was Myrtle, and the one out front was Vito. He waved to all of them and then drew back uncomfortably, urging Hush just far enough away that he was difficult to talk to without being rude.

Eileen and Mary arrived only a few minutes later, both on horseback, and Link was able to listen to the mixed chatter while keeping Hush to a lazy trot alongside the wagon. A lot of the conversation was in sign, so the wagon cover blocked plenty of it, but there was plenty to catch too.

Most of it was casual and banal – Myrtle asking Eileen where Selwyn was, Eloise telling Myrtle about a knitting project and some dyes she wanted, August (as far as Link could tell) ignoring everyone. But he caught a few other tidbits too; Vito was by and large too busy driving to participate, but from what Myrtle said, he was a bard in the castle, and Eloise got very quiet when it was mentioned. And then she was a little too loud when she asked if he'd discovered any new songs about the hero.

Link wondered if Vito was the man who would eventually be Kass' teacher.

Overall, though, it was a peaceful and pleasant journey, and Link loved being able to trot across the plains, wide stretches of land visible from every side. The wind blew past his face, and twice he and Eileen raced down a particularly clear stretch of road, laughing and playful. Mary kept pace with the wagon, keeping an eye on the fields, but she was smiling for maybe the first time that Link had seen.

It was afternoon by the time they reached Maritta Exchange, and Link faltered when he saw that it was bustling. But after dropping the horses off, Eileen and Myrtle led the way around one side, clearly familiar with it. Mary snorted, drawing his attention, and he frowned at her in question.

“You never liked crowds,” she said dismissively. “Dragging you-” She gestured to little Link, clearly not indicating Honey. “-through the front is just begging for a screaming meltdown, and that's really a waste of everyone's time.”

Link tilted his head, and noticed belatedly that his younger self was wearing mufflers and a matched set of rose quartz hair spirals like the ones Link himself had just recently purchased, conversing with Sera in rapid sign. He clicked his tongue thoughtfully. The back and the outskirts aren't as busy?

“Obviously,” Mary said, and then skipped ahead to catch up with August. Link smiled a little and tagged along after, keeping half his attention on their surroundings out of habit.

They found their way to a small side entrance and went inside, and sure enough, while there were a few people wandering the area, it wasn't anything Link couldn't tolerate. Little Link was even bouncing on his heels, and as soon as Myrtle gave Sera an exasperated wave of permission, he and the little bird took off.

Without really thinking about it, Link fell in beside Grace as everyone splintered into groups, and then started when he realized what he'd done.

Why do I feel so attached to you? he asked without thinking, and then winced when Grace's expression pinched into discomfort and poorly concealed unhappiness. Sorry. That sounded bad. I just- He faltered for a moment, wondering if he should even bother, and then shook it off and finished, I keep going to sit with you, or stand by you. And I share food with you. I don't share food that I'm already eating.

He hadn't noticed that last point until now, but it was true. Link would make food with the intent to share, and he would share a whole apple that he hadn't touched yet. But if he started on a plate of food, it was his plate of food. He knew it was a strange thing to get hung up on, but...

Grace had softened, but the edge of discomfort hadn't eased out of her expression. Oddly, it made Link feel better.

It's probably because I did most of the babysitting for you when you were little, she signed. And once it was obvious you preferred sign over speech, I got really excited, so I played with you a lot. We've always been close.

Link tried to fit that knowledge into the scrambled puzzle board of his early life, slotting it into place the best he could. Without thinking, he lifted his wrist and turned it over, watching the two bracelets clink together. Grace Hallowell was Deaf, and his favorite sister, and she'd watched him often when he was a child.

It had been a very long time since Link was a child. But apparently some part of him still remembered.

He started when Grace reached out, casually snagging the two bracelets and flipping both engravings so they could be read. She was close enough for him to feel her stiffen, and he blinked dumbly at her hand, which had her own bracelet shining around the wrist. The moment stretched on forever, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, she let go, visibly unnerved. Why do you have my bracelet?

He looked at her, and Link knew, technically, that they were the same age. Maybe she was a few months older, or younger, but they were about the same age. But her eyes were wide with incomprehension, refusing to make the final jump that would tell her the obvious, and Link felt the weight of a century on his shoulders. In his mind's eye, he could see the twisted form of a silver lizalfos, with a stripe pattern he knew better in his gut than his memory. He could feel the messy, animal rip of its flesh under his bare hands.

He could see the bracelet that was no longer on its wrist, and he could taste grief in the back of his throat and it tasted like bile.

I'm going to go find- The concept of a spice merchant, a produce peddler, a cookware specialist, all of them fled from Link's mind, and he just wavered for a moment longer before he shook his head, turned around sharply, and left, walking quickly in a random direction. He could hear Grace take a few quick steps after him, and then stop. He didn't look back.

For a few minutes, he wove blindly through the alleys and side routes, of a mind only to move as quickly as possible. His keen ears kept him well away from any crowds, and he ignored any calls from the vendors until his heartbeat finally calmed enough for him to slow to a walk.

It was only then that Link let himself think through what had just happened, and when he did, he reached up and rubbed his face.

Goddess, Hylia above, Link was a mess. A battlesick, broken, worn-out...

He missed Zelda. Zelda had always understood.

Link took a few minutes to breathe, finally taking in his surroundings for real. He was alone, no one he recognized in sight, barely even anyone he didn't. The buildings looked easy enough to scale, and as long as he was quiet, he could find the others just looking around from the high vantage point of the clock tower. For now, though, he tried to smooth his own raised hackles, and then followed his nose.

This was supposed to be a good day. He'd liked the Maritta Exchange last time, and the ride over had been fun.

He had to try.

It was completely by coincidence that Link ran into Revali while poking around the produce, narrowly avoiding a full-body collision.

Revali, looking precisely as he did in Link's distant, foggy memories, sniffed and ruffled his feathers at Link, haughty and annoyed, but, Link somehow knew, not actually particularly bothered.

“Watch yourself, fledgeling, there are more people here than yourself and your mother,” Revali said dismissively, already turning away. Link considered him for a moment, considered the situation... and then put the fruit in his hand down and went to follow Revali to wherever he might be going, his heart speeding up a little as anticipation distracted him from his murky thoughts.

Revali was the only one Link wasn't sure he'd be able to convince to come on board; he wasn't entirely certain what made the man tic one way or another, and as far as he knew, he had never been privy to the details. This first meeting, far away from the ropes of duty and expectation, was too fortuitous for Link to pass up.

He might not know how to convince Revali to agree to pilot Vah Medoh. But he did think that, if he could match the Rito in a fair contest, he could at least earn Revali's respect. If he could just find an opening...

Within a couple of turns, Link knew that Revali had noticed his quiet persistence; he never did anything as obvious as turn his head to look, but he would tilt it, putting Link just within his peripheral vision. Link traded rupees for spices, for a few unfamiliar citrus fruits, for a set of tempting arrows that promised to detonate on impact, without any damage beyond a harsh flash and a long bang.

“There's a range off that way, if you like, but you're better off using your own arrows than my flash-bangs there,” the Rito running it told him, gesturing off down one alley and then to the bow strapped to Link's back. “Just picking it up or are you an old hand?”

Link gave him a small smile and a shrug, and then turned to look for Revali again, not bothering to hide it. This time Revali met his eyes, the Rito man's narrowed in return, and Link cocked his head, hummed, and then tapped his bow and pointed down the alley the fletcher had indicated. Revali's eyebrows rose, but it was clear he knew what Link was alluding to; his beak soon opened, his cheeks pulling into a clear smirk, and with a flourish, he turned and strolled away. Link smiled a little, weary but pleased. That was a point to Link.

He followed Revali down the road, reaching the corner just as he turned into a large, unexpectedly tall building – more than twice the height of most of those around it. Link considered it for a moment, trying to match it to anything he'd seen in the ruins, but eventually shook off the thought and went inside.

Link had never seen a proper archery range before, and he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. What he got, though, was one long, tall room, with targets ranging from twenty yards away to over a hundred, and set at different heights as well, which explained the towering stature of the building. There was a counter with another Rito behind it, who Revali was speaking to, and a number of bows hung on the wall, though the arrows were stowed safely behind the counter.

By the time Link had finished looking around and moved properly into the building, Revali had moved away from the counter again, and he beckoned Link dismissively, which was something Link hadn't realized was possible until now.

“The range will be mine for the next half hour, if this even takes that long,” Revali said brazenly, with a well-hidden light of anticipation in his eyes. “I assume you did presume to set your skill against mine.”

Link wondered how often Revali got to match his skill against another marksman. He must have built quite a reputation by this point.

He gave the Rito a nod, and then quickly outlined his proposal in simple signs and gestures: maximum distance only, bullseye claims a target, winner is the one with the most targets when they're all taken.

Revali rolled his eyes, but apparently understood the suggestion without much trouble, because he settled into place and drew his bow. “A child of the Hylian court, I see,” he muttered, most of his attention on the range ahead. “On three. One, two...”

Link smiled, aimed, and as soon as Revali hit three, both of them were off.

It wasn't especially chaotic. There were only the two of them, and while they were fast, neither of them made a single shot that didn't hit, arrows flying straight and true. Revali was good, which was something that Link had known on an intellectual level, but it was nothing on seeing Revali's flawless precision himself. The Rito didn't even seem to pause to aim; in one fluid movement he would draw a new arrow, nock it, pull back and fire, graceful and unhesitating. After only a minute, Link stopped watching Revali at all and focused on the competition, picking out any target that he could see Revali's systematic approach would be targeting soon.

There were around forty targets on the very far end of the range, and it took less than ten minutes for the two of them to claim them all. Link looked at Revali, found him looking back, and tilted his head toward the other end. Revali gave him a curt nod, his expression oddly calculating now, and without a word the two of them hopped the barrier and headed toward the targets to assess the results.

“Blast,” Revali muttered, when they were nearly there. “We didn't establish a way to tell them apart.”

Link hummed dismissively, hopped up to grab an arrow off one of the targets, and turned around to hold it out to Revali. It was one of Link's; he'd been using shock arrows, leaving only a faint scorch mark on the wooden targets. Revali's eyebrows rose.

“Then let's tally up how much I won by,” Revali said, stepping aside to take an enchanted updraft to the ceiling.

The next few minutes were spent pulling down arrows and tossing them into their respective piles. Link scowled as he located each mistake he'd made. There were a few places where he'd struck targets that were a few yards from the back wall, too far away to easily tell them apart, and he tossed those arrows aside impatiently. There were a few arrows that hadn't hit bullseye, and Revali had claimed those instead. All in all, Link had fallen about six targets short of victory, and he was almost – almost – more surprised than annoyed about that.

The verdict surprised Revali more than Link had been expecting, given how confident the Rito had been in his victory. But Revali soon spoke up, his contemplative gaze fixed on Link.

“Victory is mine, obviously,” Revali said flippantly. “You're decades too young to even think of challenging me. But I will admit your skill is greater than I had anticipated. Are you planning to work with a Rito unit?” Link shook his head. Revali scoffed. “Please, any child with talent that even thinks to approach mine would be wasted in a Hylian archery division.”

Royal guard, Link explained, as close as he could get to the truth without telling Revali everything. Revali's eyebrows flew up.

“I didn't believe any of them specialized in marksmanship.”

Link tapped his sword, turning his body for Revali to see when the man actually leaned to look. He was struck suddenly by how organic it felt to be meeting Revali for the first time. Revali did not know Link, and Link did not truly know Revali. Their friendship was a theory to him, and none of the stifling grief he might have expected hung between them.

“Don't try to tell me you're not a marksman first and foremost,” Revali said scornfully, his pride clearly stung by the claim. Link bit down a smile.

Sword first, bow second, Link clarified. Everything else third.

Revali was quiet for a few moments.

“A bold claim to make at your age,” Revali said at last, and then, “It's impolite to use a separate language from your conversational partner, you know.”

Link rolled his eyes. It is, isn't it? he signed lightly, and stepped forward to hook his thumb under his own bracelet and hold it up for Revali to see. Emotions flickered across Revali's face, too quick to read, and then he nodded and turned away.

“I'll be watching for your debut, Hallowell,” Revali said, making Link jump, startled. He'd never been addressed with a surname before. “Perhaps once you've achieved that lofty goal of yours, you can seek to challenge my considerable expertise again.”

Link smiled, glad Revali wasn't facing him to see how strained it was, and gave Revali an affirmative grunt, and just like that, their first meeting went off more smoothly than Link could ever have expected.

He stayed for a while after Revali had left, returning his arrows to his slate, along with a couple that Revali had forgotten and left behind. The Rito owner was almost as interested in his career path as Revali had been, which was an odd feeling; Link had never had much say in the matter, after all. He practiced a little more, aiming for targets at different depths to polish his perception, and finally headed out in the late afternoon; it was probably more than time to find the others again.

He ran into little Link and Sera first, and Sera's sign made him smile; it was indecipherable even to him, her elongated fingers and clumsy dexterity combining into something close in nature to toddler speech, but little Link seemed to understand it just fine.

Honey grunted loudly, making both of them look at him, and little Link perked up and waved.

Look what I found! the younger boy signed excitedly, and held up a beautiful, slender training bow, well-crafted and sturdy looking.

Honey smiled, sitting down beside little Link, opposite Sera, and signed, Are you planning on picking it up soon?

Little Link nodded quickly, eyes bright with determination, and started explaining exactly how he was going to convince Selwyn while Honey nodded along indulgently.

It took Link most of the trip back to figure out what he was going to say to Grace.

He figured that Grace had told Eileen some of it, from the concerned glances the woman was giving him, but it was Grace that he really wanted to smooth the situation over with. He'd be leaving for Zora's Domain in only a few days, and then he'd be gone for another week or more, and he didn't want to seem like he was avoiding her.

In the end, Honey walked with them back to their home, and then gestured for Grace to follow him around the back. Her face pinched in worry again, but she did without question. Honey took a deep breath to steady himself and followed her back.

I took your bracelet off a monster in the library, he told her, trying to leave out as many unnecessarily graphic details as he could. Her eyes went wide, her hand rising to cover her mouth, and he winced but kept going anyway. I don't know what happened to you. I'm sorry. But you didn't have it anymore by the time I... got to the castle. I didn't want to leave it there, so I kept it.

Grace's breath hitched and stuttered for a moment, and he avoided her gaze, cheeks flushing with shame. It felt like an eternity before she reached out and touched his hand, drawing his attention again before she spoke. Her brow was lined with worry, but she was smiling again, as if the mere force of will could cheer them both up.

I'm glad you kept it, she said. She would have wanted you to have it more than anyone. Are you going to keep it still? Even now that you're here?

Link glanced down, turned his wrist over to watch them both move, and nodded.

It's not the same, he said, as evenly as he could. All of that... still happened. It was real. She was real. I don't want to forget.

His throat was tight again. It had never felt so difficult to articulate the magnitude of what he'd lost to Calamity Ganon. Everything his failure had cost them. If it wasn't real, if his passage through time had erased it all, then why did the grief still drag at him? All of it made sense to Link, but he wasn't sure how to explain.

Both of them were still for a painfully long moment. Link kept his eyes on Grace's hands, and not on her face, and he didn't look up again until she started speaking.

I'm sorry you were left alone, she signed, slow and sincere. She let that sit for a moment, eyes on his, and then added, Mom's been making the attic into another bedroom. You should stay sometimes. It looks like everyone is ready for another sibling.

For some reason, Link had to fight the urge to laugh, and he let himself smile. Maybe. I'll be busy though. I've got a lot to do.

Grace smiled at him, unmistakeable pride glimmering in her eyes. Of course you do. Just come home sometimes.

Link gave in and laughed, a short, rough sound more breath than giggle. Okay. Sometimes.

Chapter Text

They set out in the early morning. It was a small party, Link was informed, though it felt enormous to him – himself, Rhoam, and five royal guards, including Selwyn. Out of habit more than anything, Link kept an eye on their surroundings as they left Castle Town; though there were no guardians in this era at all, as he very well knew, he couldn't shake the feeling that there were a dozen lurking just over the hills, out of sight but well within targeting range.

For some reason, his tension seemed to make the others tense as well, and before more than fifteen minutes had passed, Rhoam raised his hands and called a halt. Link tugged on Hush's reins, the hair on the back of his neck raising. He looked around, finding nothing out of place, before he finally tugged again, turning Hush towards Rhoam.

What is it? he asked, when no one else did, and then realized they were all looking at him. Rhoam raised an eyebrow.

You tell me, boy. You've been on edge since we left the city. What do you sense?

Sense? What nonsense was Rhoam talking about?

It's nothing, Link said after a moment, a flush of humiliation creeping across his face. There's nothing here. This area was thick with guardians in my time, and there were so many that it was easy to be ambushed by several at once. It makes me nervous. I'll calm down when we're out of range.

Rhoam raised his eyebrows. Cedric indicates that you had no trouble countering multiple opponents when it was my royal guards you were facing. What makes these guardians different?

Link swallowed thickly, unable to stop himself from glancing around again, checking the horizons and the forest. Even the glimpse of a covered wagon made his heart race for a minute before he focused enough to identify it. It doesn't matter. There aren't any here.

I decide whether it matters. Explain.

The tired and melancholy man of only a few days before felt very far away. Link swallowed again, and checked the horizons, the forest, and the city walls. It was hard to let go of Hush's reins to sign. Guardians fire in intervals of about five seconds, and one hit is more than sufficient to knock you down and stun you for a few. So if you fall, and there's already another shot coming...

It had only happened to him around a half-dozen times, at most, but every one of them was a scar in his limited memory. His ribs ached.

If they can hit you while you're already down... Link trailed off, his hands shaking.

Link couldn't remember if that sentence had an ending. His ears were ringing, and his chest ached with what he knew was the threat of an oncoming panic attack. He remembered- the feeling of being shot down, rolling through the dust, struggling to get up only to be shot down again, and then again- the burns, the cracking ribs, the dust and grit in his mouth, the smell of singed hair- the deafening klaxon of their warning- the deafening klaxon on every side- the deafening- the glowing eye-

He couldn't breathe. His fingertips tingled, numb and creeping. When he felt someone touch him, he jerked away, reached down without looking, and yanked on the horse's bridle. The horse reared in panic, kicking out blindly at the air, and he steered it away as if in preparation to flee.

But the motion shocked Link out of his flashback, if not his panic attack, and when he looked up it was only Selwyn, just barely out of reach now, focused on Link. Link was gasping, so violently that it stung his throat and would soon make him dizzy, but he wasn't getting any air. There were guardians swarming in from every side; he could almost hear the klaxons, see the red dots on his clothes. But Selwyn's expression was deadly focused.

How do you get out of it? Selwyn asked him, very calmly. Link blinked at him, rapid and disoriented, and then fumbled to answer. There was no feeling in his fingers.

Shield, Link answered at last. You need a shield, you need-

He wanted, he needed-

His throat ached with the force of his breath. He fumbled for his Sheikah slate with nerveless fingers, found the remaining ancient shield by muscle memory, and summoned it out. His hands were clumsy on the smooth surface, and he almost dropped it, but in too many seconds, it was on his arm, right where Link could parry with it, and he felt a little better.

He was shaking, he registered dimly. He looked around. The fields were- a covered wagon made him startle viciously, but the fields were clear. Hush was starting to shuffle his feet, head tossing anxiously as he picked up Link's mood. Without thinking, Link leaned down and soothed him, and after a few more moments, forced his breath to slow to a silent count. After another second, he dismounted and pressed his face against Hush's neck, feeling the horse huff and wait obediently. His heart fluttered like a snared butterfly in his chest.

He missed Zelda. What was it Zelda used to say to him?

“Tell me again about Satori Mountain. How many apple trees did you find on the way up? How many durians? How many rushrooms? Did you find any radishes? Did you find any truffles? How many silent princesses were around the little pond, with the cherry blossom tree? Do you remember the time you found Satori? He was kind to you, wasn't he? He caught you watching him, crossed the pond to stand in front of you, and touched his nose to your forehead. You said it felt like a blessing. Do you remember that, Link?”

It took an eternity, but finally, Link straightened up again, exhausted but with his breathing back to normal. He reached up and wiped his eyes without looking at anyone, leaning heavily on his horse because his knees felt like jelly, and then said, Sorry. Can we leave? I don't want to be here anymore. I promise there's nothing here.

His hands were trembling, and humiliation was thick in his chest.

He should be better than this. People were counting on him.

“...Very well,” Rhoam said after a minute. “Cedric, come to the front. Your suggestion has merit.”

Slowly, in starts and stops, they moved forward again, heading on over the bridge and past Crenel Mountain. Selwyn fell in beside Link at the back of the group.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly. Link swallowed, grip white-knuckled on the reins, and nodded without looking up.

Sorry for making a fuss. I know there's nothing here.

“You've done nothing wrong,” Selwyn said, so firmly that Link almost believed it. “Were you looking forward to something in particular in Zora's Domain? You seemed excited about it before.”

Link nodded, relaxing a little, though he still didn't look up from Hush. Mipha and Sidon will both be there. Sidon and I were good friends in my time, and Mipha... I don't remember her very well. But I know we were close. I'd like to meet her again.

“Tell me about Sidon,” Selwyn said, and Link did.

The rest of the trip went better. They kept a brisk pace for most of it, cantering past mountains and over bridges. Link fell back a few times, pausing to pick apples or mushrooms, and once to catch a few bright-eyed crabs as they traveled over the shore past Zelo Pond. They slowed to a trot after the first Zora bridge, and Link marveled a little at the small but vital landscape differences from what he remembered; the monsters must have damaged the path over the years. Eventually, he even put the ancient shield away.

After his conversation with Cedric, most of which Link paid no attention to, Rhoam seemed to lose himself in thought, his forehead wrinkled and careworn and his hands on the reins. The guards fanned out around him, and kept in roughly that formation as they traveled, save for when the path demanded a narrower group.

They reached Zora's Domain in the early evening, left the horses at a stable that Link definitely didn't remember, and crossed the final bridge as a procession. Despite having seen the beautiful structure a hundred times before, Link had to sit back and admire it. He might prefer Satori Mountain, secluded and secret, but Zora's Domain was stunning to behold.

They were received warmly, which surprised Link for a moment, although it shouldn't have. Following Rhoam's decisive lead, they marched up one staircase and on to the throne room, where Dorephan was lounging. Link was startled to see another, almost equally large Zora beside Dorephan, her scales the deep scarlet that Mipha and Sidon both bore; she must be the queen, though Link had no idea what her name could be. Both of them seemed pleased enough to see Rhoam, and after a moment, Link's heart skipped a beat as he spotted Mipha sitting at the foot of her father's throne.

The royal guards fanned out behind Rhoam, standing at parade rest; Link was somehow pushed to the front, at King Rhoam's elbow. King Rhoam inclined his head respectfully, so Link dipped into a deeper bow, just until King Dorephan spoke.

“Rhoam, you know you are always welcome. But you were quite sudden in requesting this meeting, and I do not recognize the young man at your side. What tides do you bring?”

“Both very good and very grave news,” Rhoam answered. “You are aware that the signs of the Calamity's approach grow stronger each year, and I have been seeking to counter it. My prayers for guidance were answered in a most unexpected way. The young man before you is Link, the most recent incarnation of the hero's soul, and he hails from an ill-fated future. He has brought much knowledge that we would not have otherwise had to prepare us for the Calamity, and my purpose here is by that leave. If I may proceed?”

King Dorephan was suddenly eying Link with an uncomfortably speculative look, and the queen, face lined with age, gave Rhoam a nod.

King Rhoam began to explain, laying out the situation and counter-strategy as Link had presented them a few weeks before. Mipha was listening attentively, but after a while, her gaze shifted to Link, unmistakeable recognition in her eyes. That was right – she had met him once when he was a very small child. He was surprised that she recognized him like this.

Link was forced to return his attention to the sovereigns when the queen called out to him, and he cocked his head inquisitively. She gave him a small, world-weary smile; something about it reminded him of his Zelda.

“From King Rhoam's description, you were quite in the eye of the hurricane,” she said, slow and considerate. He shrugged and nodded. “Then you would know best what would be likely to affect our decision. Can I trust in your honesty, hero?”

Link clicked his tongue, uncomfortable with all the eyes on him, but after a moment, nodded.

In my timeline we were caught by surprise, he signed, mind flickering back to their unwavering confidence on Lanayru Road. When Ganon struck, he turned many of our own weapons against us. Most relevant to you, the champions were trapped in their divine beasts and killed by fragments of the Calamity. The one that attacked Mipha in Vah Ruta was the Waterblight. Sick-water, Link signed for it; it wasn't as if its name truly mattered. I faced the same fragment to free her a hundred years later, in relatively poor condition but well-prepared. I believe that, were she not caught by surprise, Mipha would have been able to defeat the Waterblight on her own.

The king closed his eyes, hissing softly, but the queen nodded, slow and weary.

“Describe by your own mind what the world was like for Zora after the Calamity won,” she ordered, earning a surprised but faintly pleased smile from Link. Mipha was sitting straight up, brow furrowed, eyes focused on Link.

Hyrule had been nearly obliterated, but the Zora were doing well, Link said bluntly, ignoring some shufflings of discontent behind him. I believe the biggest problem was caused by the road to the rest of Hyrule, which eventually became completely impassable, both because of damage to the road and monsters that made their homes on it. I know there were chronic supply problems, mostly related to medicine and the luminous stone you use for repairs. There was also a lynel on Ploymus Mountain and a talus south of Tal Tal, which could not be permanently destroyed or redirected due to the nature of the recurring blood moon, when the Calamity's magic would put them back no matter their condition. He hesitated, and then, feeling it would be remiss not to, he added, Everyone missed Mipha very much, even a hundred years later.

The queen gave him a deep, grave nod, and then looked at Mipha. “Did you catch all of that, my dear?” Mipha nodded uncertainly, looking small but determined. “Then it is your decision to make. You have the information.”

“Oren-!” King Dorephan protested immediately, and the queen, apparently Oren, gave him a quelling look.

“King Rhoam stakes his own daughter on this task as well, as is his duty and her destiny. It is only by good fortune that we do not have the same obligation. She will make the decision, as is her right as a grown and quite mature Zora.”

King Dorephan subsided, but his face was still pinched unhappily. “The odds look grim,” he murmured, and then looked at Mipha. “I will allow you to make your own decision. But I beg you, be cautious, my dear. You are precious and well-loved.”

Mipha gave both of her parents a grateful smile, and then stood up, crossed the room towards Link, and stopped in front of him, eyes bright and expectant. His throat closed up, emotion rushing through him as surely as breath rushed through his lungs. He almost wanted to reach out and touch Mipha just to see if she was real.

She was beautiful.

My court sign is rough, Mipha signed apologetically, slow and deliberate. Your name is L-i-n-k?

Link nodded, and then added, clear and broad, Honey candy. If you'd like.

Mipha nodded, laser-focused, and smiled at him. Honey candy. Have we met? You seem quite familiar.

Had they met? Something about the question made Link smile, rueful and faintly melancholy. Yes, they had, but it was very nearly as if they hadn't for the both of them. Once. A few years ago now, for you. I skinned my knee and you healed it.

Mipha nodded thoughtfully, and then, clearly with a purpose of some kind, continued, Did I do well as a champion?

You were wonderful, Link said honestly. By all accounts, you took to your beast better than anyone. You said it was like meeting an old friend.

Mipha nodded again, searching his eyes as if for answers. Did I help you?

Link swallowed with difficulty. More than you can imagine.

As if that was all she needed to know, Mipha turned toward Rhoam, eyes bright, and said, “I will do it. I will pilot Vah Ruta.”

It was a pleasant surprise when Mipha insisted on accompanying him to find Vah Ruta; she might not be able to spot the landscape differences the way Link would, but she knew her way around better, and this way Link could... get to know her, he supposed wistfully.

Under the circumstances, she was more intent on her task than he might have expected. Her pace stayed even with his, and her gaze roved the landscape as if her gaze could penetrate the earth and find Vah Ruta without any digging at all. He watched her for a while, but didn't realize how long he'd been doing it until she flushed slightly and looked up, meeting his eyes.

I hope you do not mind that I joined you, she said sheepishly. Her eyes glimmered with her embarrassed smile, and it wasn't until Link registered the skip of his heartbeat that he realized why he was so transfixed. I realize now I did not give you room to protest.

He felt himself smile, and it came more naturally than it had in months. I don't mind. This does have plenty to do with you, after all. I just don't often travel with others.

In fact, he thought that the only person he'd ever traveled with was Zelda. And that... well, like he'd told Catrain, that was different.

That sounds lonely, Mipha noted, wide eyes on him. Link shrugged. He felt warm.

Most people think so, but I never have, he said honestly. The wilderness is a companion of its own.

That's a beautiful way of looking at it, Mipha signed gently, and the look in her eyes made his heart skip a beat again. He looked away quickly, cheeks flushing with heat, and rocked on his heels before composing himself.

I was thinking that Upland Zorana would be a good first place to look, because it should be easy to assess, he signed quickly, not quite looking directly at her. Around the reservoir is more likely, but it'll be harder to look, since the area is more complicated and harder to navigate. I was going to do that tomorrow, maybe stay out overnight and spend two days out there if I needed. Is that alright with you?

Thankfully, Mipha grew serious as well, straightening up and giving him a firm nod. That sounds perfect. I'll be right beside you.

Link actually stopped. Mipha walked a few steps more before turning around to give him a puzzled frown. He hesitated, not wanting to tell her that the words had resonated with something in his memory; nothing had risen to the surface, and he didn't even really have the shape of it. So instead, he said to her, That does remind me. I didn't want you to think that I was giving this to you to pressure you, or for your parents to, but I have something for you.

Oh, you didn't- Mipha started, flustered but fondly amused, and then she fell silent as Link opened up his slate and caught the bottle that emerged. He held it out to her to take, and it was a few moments of surprised staring before she did, as delicately as if the enchanted silicate were candy glass instead. From inside, a patient little fairy pressed both her hands to the side of the bottle and fluttered her wings sweetly, and then sat back down, cross-legged. “Oh my.”

Link started to reach up to scratch his head, then stopped himself. The other champions will be getting one each too, eventually, but I... wanted to make sure you had yours well before you needed it, not after. I- Fairies are irreplaceable in a tight spot, she'll stay with you until you need her. Keep her with you. Please?

Mipha took a deep breath, pressed the bottle to her chest, and smiled.

“Of course I will,” she said quietly. “Thank you very much.” She looked down at the jar. “And thank you too, little one.”

The little fairy sparkled up at her, and Link relaxed, smiling in relief.

Chapter Text

Upland Zorana definitely has some dig sites, but not any big enough to fit Vah Ruta, Link explained earnestly over breakfast, pausing between sentences to take bites of his omelet. It might be worth digging there anyway, there's probably ancient parts and maybe research and so on, I don't know. I think Mipha and I will check around Tal Tal Peak next, but it's much more likely that it's north of there, in Ulria Grotto. That looked like a pretty big dig site, and it had plenty of strange things still there when I went.

Selwyn listened attentively, which made Link feel pleased and oddly embarrassed about it, warm and delighted. Why not check there first?

Efficiency, Link shrugged, tilting his head thoughtfully. Ulria Grotto is pretty far away, up in the northeast, so I'd like to check on other things on the way. It's not like I'll know for sure Vah Ruta is there even if I go there and it's all filled in.

Selwyn nodded his understanding, and he looked like he was going to speak more, but then Mipha came by, bright-eyed and smiling already. She gave both of them the shortest bow of acknowledgment, barely more than a dip of her head, before focusing on Link and signing, May I accompany you again today? I enjoyed our conversation yesterday, and I was hoping to ask you about some more personal matters as well. I hope you don't mind.

Link shook his head, sitting up and repressing the urge to hop immediately to his feet. Not at all. Would you prefer we be back by evening, then? I was going to stay out overnight, so I wouldn't have to cover old ground in the morning, but if you'd rather be home...

No, that sounds lovely, Mipha assured him. I'll be sure to prepare accordingly. But we should leave soon- in an hour?

Perfect, Link said without hesitation, and smiled back brightly when Mipha gave him a warm smile and a nod.

When he turned back to Selwyn, the man's expression had gone odd. Link tilted his head in question. Selwyn held his gaze for a moment, wearing that strange look, and then finally said, You seem quite taken with her.

Link took a beat to absorb that, and then felt his cheeks heat up. He nodded, not bothering to deny it.

She's quite the beauty, isn't she? Selwyn signed back, and after a moment, Link realized that the man was teasing him, a playful little tilt to his smile and a sparkle in his eyes. In personality as well as appearance. I suppose you're old enough to appreciate that now. Assuming you and Zelda...?

Link wrinkled his nose and shook his head, not realizing the implications of the reaction until Selwyn laughed. Link huffed at him, but he had to work to keep from smiling, and after a moment he didn't bother. No. Zelda's different.

Hylia above, he missed Zelda.

He didn't realize how quickly his mood had dropped until Selwyn reached forward, squeezed his shoulder, and drew Link's attention back to him. Selwyn was still smiling, small and self-assured, and once he had Link's attention again, he said, Considering she's agreed to become a champion, I expect you'll have plenty of time to spend together.

Link hummed happily, perking up a little, and nodded. Satisfied, he set to finishing off his breakfast, and with a chuckle, Selwyn did as well.

As agreed, Link and Mipha set off toward Tal Tal Peak at midmorning. To Link's pleasure, Mipha didn't mind taking it slowly; she watched him with clear curiosity as he drifted to and fro, picking mushrooms and lotus seeds as they caught his fancy. He offered her a few and she accepted them, eating a silent shroom in delicate little bites that he watched for a few seconds too long before turning away again, cheeks pink.

It was a while before either of them spoke – longer than Link had expected. It was Mipha who broke the silence, starting to speak, pausing, and then signing instead, carefully, Was Sidon well?

It took Link a few moments to understand her meaning, but he softened as soon as he did. Sidon was wonderful. He takes after you, I think.

Mipha smiled, small and distracted, and Link tilted his head, inviting her to share what still bothered her.

I want to know, but I don't think it would help either Sidon or myself to ask, Mipha admitted, looking small and unexpectedly self-recriminating. Link hummed curiously. Sidon, you see, is of an age where he ought to be speaking. He has been for almost five years now, but he shows no sign of it.

Link was glad that his surprise didn't show clearly on his face. Instead, he hummed encouragingly, and for some reason, that made Mipha's shoulders relax a little.

“Link,” she asked aloud, voice very, very soft. “May I ask you an extremely personal question?” Link nodded without hesitation, and Mipha gave him a grateful, distracted smile. “Is it... very difficult, to be unable to speak?”

Link stopped walking. Mipha walked only two steps past before stopping and turning to face him, face flushed with embarrassment and some measure of shame. She was already opening her mouth to apologize when Link shook his head, frowning contemplatively at the middle distance. Finally, Link shrugged.

I don't know what to tell you. It depends on the circumstances. In Castle Town, where nearly everyone knows sign, it's almost easy. And if all you want to do is communicate needs, that's not hard to get the hang of either. But it is difficult to hold meaningful conversations with strangers, or to navigate new or remote places. He hesitated, studying her for a moment, and then added carefully, I think that Sidon is in a position where anyone he needs to communicate with will learn sign just for him, and that will help to make everything else work out. You learned it for him, didn't you?

Mipha ducked her head, as if embarrassed, and then gave Link a cute, bashful smile. I... yes. I knew the basics, but I wasn't particularly skilled until it became clear that Sidon would not communicate any other way. I suppose that must seem terribly selfish of me.

Link hummed his reassurance, feeling oddly indulgent. It's a lot of work to learn a new language if you don't have a reason for it. If you're really worried about him, you should help Sidon make a phrase board to ask for things with.

A phrase board? Mipha mirrored uncertainly, and without thinking, Link stepped closer and lifted the Sheikah slate.

He spent the next few minutes walking her through it, all without using a single sign, and it wasn't until he looked up and found her face only inches away that he realized how close they were. He could feel her breath. His whole face flushed red, and when he blinked, he saw Mipha turn pink and embarrassed too. By silent agreement, they stepped apart, flustered.

We should go up Mikau Lake, Link signed, not meeting Mipha's eyes, and she nodded too quickly.

“Yes, of course.”

And then she was reaching for Link and they were both mortified all over again, and Mipha still had to carry Link up the waterfall with his arms clinging onto her and hers holding him, neither of them looking at each other. At the top, knee-deep in water, they stepped apart again, and Link silently led the way onward.

The stifling awkwardness held until they reached the waterfall on the south side of Tal Tal, when Mipha broke it again.

“Link... were we very close, in the time you remember?”

Link stopped again, and then, abruptly, turned toward her. She looked worried, chewing her lip as she waited for his response, and he hesitated for a second longer, a tight feeling closing around his chest. It was familiar; it was the grief of more things than any man or monster could hope to quantify.

I don't know why King Rhoam didn't lead with this, Link said at last, without looking away from her. But I don't remember very much at all. I fell, too, when the Calamity first hit, and the shrine that kept me alive wiped away most of my memory. So... I know that I knew all of you, everyone who fought with me. And yes, I know we were very close. But...

He shrugged. Mipha's expression had turned soft with compassion.

That must be unimaginably difficult, she signed. Link swallowed, feeling too caught in her gaze to look away.

It makes some things easier, he lied. If Zelda had believed it – and oh, she had – surely Mipha could too.

She didn't seem convinced, but she was also clearly unwilling to argue, and instead she said to him, Then we will make the best of the time we have now. Will you tell me what you know about the others?

The knot in Link's chest released, and he was smiling again before he knew it.

It was then, in the moments before he started to tell her about Urbosa, that he realized he was still very much in love with her.

By the time they finished their exploration, Link was certain that Vah Ruta was either in Ulria Grotto or the east side of the reservoir; both of those places had clearly been massive dig sites, more than large enough for a divine beast. Personally, Link suspected Ulria Grotto – the place had had far too many idiosyncrasies in his own time – but he didn't share more than the possibility.

The two kings apparently weren't done with negotiations yet, though, so Link was left to spend a few days wandering around Zora's Domain and the surrounding area. Most of those days, he wound up spending time with Mipha, who seemed happy enough to fish with him or help him gather cooking herbs and mushrooms, no matter how dirty she got doing so.

So it caught him completely by surprise when Selwyn stopped him on his way out to wander, with such an intense expression that it made Link straighten, mouth pulling into a frown. Selwyn caught his reaction and obviously forced himself to relax, which left Link more confused and disconcerted than anything.

What's wrong? Link ventured after a moment, frowning at him.

I was wondering, Selwyn signed carefully, if you had ever asked a Zora healer to look at your injuries.

Link stiffened despite himself, feeling oddly defensive. He had to keep himself from ducking his head and shuffling back, and as it was, he must have been projecting his sudden discomfort, because Selwyn made space between them anyway. Link forced his hackles to settle, answering as evenly as he could. No. The Zora healers were not fond of me. I usually went to the doctor in Kakariko. Why.

Zora healers are skilled with magic, Selwyn explained, and he wasn't hiding his worry now, not completely. Link wondered if... if it had been eating at him, the thought that Link was hurt. Link didn't know how to feel about it, if it had. They may be able to help in ways that Hylian healers couldn't. Link still hesitated. As a favor, Link? It would soothe my mind to know we had tried.

That did it. Link nodded reluctantly, and the wash of relief was visible on Selwyn's face.

Reluctantly, Link accompanied Selwyn towards the infirmary, following at a somewhat more sedate pace. Selwyn strode with purpose and disappeared inside as soon as they were there, and Link skirted around uncertainly. He was surprised, then, to come face to face with an equally startled Mipha.

“Is something wrong?” Mipha asked as soon as their eyes met, clearly anxious, and Link had to laugh.

He didn't have time to reply properly before Selwyn reappeared, escorting an elderly, squinty-eyed Zora man, with a bit of river Zora roundness to him. Link tilted his head at the same time that Mipha straightened up.

“Nico!” Mipha exclaimed, eyes wide. The Zora man grunted, leaned on his cane, and, surprisingly brisk, limped over to a chair beside a bed, surrounded by privacy curtains. Then he looked up and gestured to Link.

“Come on, boy, let's see the damage,” he said, more kindly than his brisk words would suggest.

Mipha instantly twisted to face him, worried all over again, and Link shook his head at her, trying to wave her worries away even as nervousness prickled down his spine. He didn't really like exposing the full extent of his scarring, especially to people who hadn't seen it before. It made him feel... well. It was too much vulnerability, that was all.

He sat down on the indicated bed, and Mipha pulled the privacy curtains for him, even disappearing outside of them herself despite clear curiosity. That left Link with Nico and Selwyn, neither of whom seemed to intend to leave. Link tugged at his sleeve, and at Nico's encouraging nod, he started to undress, without looking at either of them.

Link rarely wore armor; it weighed heavy on a body that was sore on the best days, so he kept that to when he needed it. So all he took off was his tunic, his trousers, his bracers and his gloves.

There was scarring from his journey, of course, but they were pale and few compared to the injuries that had nearly killed him. Zelda had remembered how he'd gotten them all, and she'd explained them eventually, one by one. The splashes on his forearms where his sword had cast off all the malice that went near it. A spot on his back, where a guardian beam had scored a direct hit, and most of his stomach and chest where he'd landed in malice swamp. Across the backs of his legs, where another beam had nearly taken them off, and both shoulders, where he'd been too slow to dodge. His knees, where his legs had given way from exhaustion, and a foot, where he hadn't been watching his step.

All of them were burns; most had contracted as they healed, making it difficult or painful to move in certain ways.

Link didn't look up again until he was down to his boxers, holding himself stiff and uncomfortable. Nico looked grim and oddly unsurprised, and Link couldn't read Selwyn's expression at all. He would almost describe it as neutral, except for the intense focus, and when Selwyn reached for him, Link let him.

Selwyn's hands were gentle when he grasped Link's forearm and turned it over to look more closely. Then his hand moved to Link's shoulder, fingers prodding as if to test the feeling of the tissue, and then to his hip, thumb brushing over the textured skin. Link grunted quietly, confused and unsure, and Selwyn let go and leaned back, without taking his eyes off Link's torso. Whatever he was thinking, he didn't speak it aloud.

After a minute of contemplation, Nico nodded, as if coming to a decision. “I'm sure you know that this is beyond fixing,” he said first, and Link nodded. “What regular care do you apply?”

I have a stretching routine that I run through three to five times a day, and an ointment I use at night, Link answered promptly. Selwyn translated aloud, which made Link look away, cheeks flushed, but it did explain why Selwyn had stayed.

“And how well does that help?” Nico asked. Link hummed uncomfortably.

It reduces my baseline pain by a lot, and gives me more range of motion. But there's still a lot of flares and I can't really... He stopped short as Selwyn started to translate, and instead folded his arms over his stomach, face hot.

“It's alright, Link,” Selwyn murmured, when he'd caught up. “I'm well aware of what old injuries and pain can do to a man. It won't make me think any less of you.”

Link grunted, disliking the fact that that did make him feel better, and finished without looking up, My right arm can't reach over my head. My left doesn't go very high either.

To his relief, Nico just nodded thoughtfully. “To be expected with this injury profile. I'll apply some magic and see if that loosens anything for you, but I expect your best chance is to lacerate some of your larger scars and then carefully heal the new wounds. That should grant you some increased flexibility.”

Link blinked, surprised, because that was still much more than he was expecting. He moved aside to make room for Nico to sit beside him, and watched his hand while Nico placed it about an inch away from Link's right shoulder.

The glow didn't catch Link by surprise, but the relief did, a little. It was more like ralis root than lavender, but it was still as if the built-up tension in the area had abruptly released, and the feeling spread as Nico shifted, hand roaming slowly over each patch of scarring.

The tension returned as soon as Nico moved his hand and its magic away, but Link thought it was not quite as bad as before, his skin loosening a little as Nico worked. By the end, Link was even smiling a little, grateful for the clear effort if nothing else. Nico looked worn out when he finished, but he straightened up as steadily as ever.

“That is the best I can do for you, I'm afraid,” he said briskly. “Any improvement?” Link nodded. “A little or plenty?” Link gestured apologetically to the former. “Hm. Would you be open to attempting the more intensive measures at a later date? I believe your king is planning to leave this evening.” Link nodded without hesitation. “Excellent. Then please return at your convenience. I don't believe that is an operation Princess Mipha has been able to observe, so there will be much benefit from it.”

Link's cheeks flushed with discomfort again, and he started to dress without answering, listening as Selwyn thanked Nico for his time and effort and asked some follow-up questions, many of which Nico politely deflected. Ten minutes later, they were on their way, and Link was all too aware of the weight of the silence between them. How hard Selwyn was trying not to let Link bear the weight of his reaction.

It finally got to the point that Link looked up and caught Selwyn's attention, and said, It's not so bad. I spent a lot of time learning to live with it, and it's fine as long as I'm careful. He smiled a little, trying his best to seem lighthearted, and added, It's not really any worse than the battlesickness. They make a pretty nice matched set, don't you think?

Selwyn snorted, seeming to surprise himself, and reached out to ruffle Link's hair. Link grunted in alarm, and Selwyn smiled. That they do. Now, why don't you tell me what you and Mipha have been up to?

“I've enjoyed spending time with you this last week,” Mipha said to Link, a hint of shyness threaded through her voice. “I've found life in corners of the domain that I'd never truly noticed before. I should thank you for that.”

Link gave her a small, warm smile, lingering in front of her despite himself. I'm glad. You deserve to see all of the beautiful places Hyrule has to offer.

His cheeks warmed before he'd even finished, and Mipha's eyes sparkled, a little more confidence easing into her body language.

“I suppose this is goodbye for now,” Mipha said quietly. Her eyes had lowered. “Mother has assured me I am to set out for Castle Town as soon as Vah Ruta is uncovered, but it is likely to be some time from now. I can only tell you that I will come as soon as I can.”

She was looking at his mouth. Link's breath caught, and suddenly he was looking at hers too.

I can be patient, he said distantly, and as if to contradict himself, he rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, and then back, wavering and uncertain. Something in his nerves sang, excited and electric in a far better way than he was used to. I'll listen for any news, so I know to expect...

Mipha completed what he hadn't been able to bring himself to finish, and in a fluid motion, rocked forward, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and pressed her mouth against his, plump and urgent. He relaxed into it right away, eyes closing and lips parting as something in his chest fluttered happily, and only a second later they split apart again, flustered but pleased.

I can wait, he signed at last, belatedly, and Mipha beamed at him.

Twenty minutes later, Link was on his horse and watching the rear of the group, teetering between keeping Hush steady and letting out the happy buzz that seemed to have filled him head to toe. A couple times he dropped the reins to flap his hands, something he rarely did, and when he remembered to keep a hold of them, he rocked in place, clicking his tongue and feeling his body move.

Selwyn was laughing at him quietly, something Link didn't notice until the man spoke, when they were most of the way back down the river. “I take it that you enjoyed meeting Mipha as much as you had hoped.” Unbothered by the teasing note in his voice, Link hummed in affirmation, low and pleased. “She must be good for you, if you're this happy. I don't believe I've ever spoken to her myself.” Link hummed again, as much for the feeling in his throat as in response, and Selwyn laughed again. “It's wonderful to see you in such a good mood.”

There was warmth and sincerity in the last remark, and though Link's good mood didn't really fall, it softened a little as he dropped into contemplation. He was in a good mood, wasn't he? How long had it been since he was so happy? It couldn't have truly been months. Surely not all the way before they realized Zelda was ill. But now that he thought it, he was sure it was true.

Picking up on the change in tone, Selwyn started to look concerned, but Link shook his head and straightened up again, shoulders back as he looked around. The trail to Zora's Domain was thick with flowers. He'd never realized that before.

It's a good day, Link said at last, with more weight and meaning laden in it than he could otherwise express.

He and Zelda hadn't had a lot of good days. But the ones they did were precious.

“It is,” Selwyn agreed, much softer, and kept pace with Link down the riverbank, their horses trotting steadily along.

Much later, when they were cantering down the road, Rhoam directed them north, away from Thims Bridge, and Link sat up, confused, then grunted loudly for Selwyn's attention. Where are we going?

“If I had to guess,” Selwyn said, after a conspicuous pause. “I would say that we're approaching Hyrule Castle from the north, through Helmshead Bridge.”

The rush of relief hit Link before the embarrassment did. Is it because of me?

Selwyn didn't answer right away, which was answer enough for Link. But when he did speak, it was to say, “You mother used to be the only one who could calm me out of panic attack.” Link sat up, giving Selwyn a startled look, and Selwyn gave him a small, wry smile back. “Asher would try, but I think I'd fought alongside him too many times to believe anywhere he was was safe. But Eileen was always home to me, even when she was working in the stable or the castle. If she was there, I could be sure there was no danger.”

Link watched Selwyn for a few long minutes, troubled and uncharacteristically unsure of himself. Selwyn studied the road ahead, deliberately composed, but with his head angled to catch Link's response.

He tried to picture Selwyn, on the ground and gasping for breath.

When did they stop? he asked at last. Selwyn made a thoughtful sound.

“I don't really know,” he said honestly. “In truth, I don't think they ever did. But they became much less. I relearned how to feel safe in more places, and in more situations. But on very bad days, I still avoid the stables unless I know Eileen is there.”

Stables... of course. Hooves.

Flashes, Link said on impulse, and looked away quickly when Selwyn leveled his full attention at him. For me it's always been... flashes.

After over a year of being set off by sun on the water and the reflections of well-shined shields, it had been Zelda who figured it out for him. Sudden flashes of light, like the muzzle flash of a guardian's beam, could always make his heart leap into his throat and leave him winded and clumsy with fear.

“Then I'll make sure the windows all have curtains,” Selwyn said. Link laughed, but it came out shakier than he'd meant, and he thought he'd really like that, actually.

And he thought that Selwyn would do it, too.

The first thing Selwyn did when he was back in Castle Town was stop by the blacksmith and commission a set of curtain rods, one for every window that didn't have one already, and then a couple more in case he'd forgotten some. Then he went and did the same at the seamstress.

Then he went home.

Eileen and the kids were all already in bed, but there was light flickering under the door. Selwyn didn't bother to cast off anything more than his gear before he fell into bed with her, and her rising smile faded into worry, her hands going to undo the plaits in his hair.

“What happened?” she asked softly, brow creased.

Selwyn sighed, but he already felt better for being home again, with Eileen's hands in his hair and the smell of horses in the air. Still, his voice came out plaintive. “Eileen, why did I ever want any of our children to become knights?”

Understanding crept into Eileen's face, and he saw his own worry and distress reflected back at him. “Is it Honey again?”

Selwyn nodded, too exhausted to even try to deny it. “He told me that flashes of light can set off panic attacks. He doesn't like the fields south of Castle Town either.” He could still see Link's wide, haunted eyes, fixed on a monster no one else could see, a look Selwyn remembered seeing on his own father's face, on a few fellow armsmen, and a few times in the mirror, toward the beginning, when the look never left him. He pushed himself closer, where he could rest his forehead on Eileen's shoulder, and felt some of the tension ease out of him. “I put in a commission for some rods and curtains.”

It was a hilariously inadequate way to express the weight draped over his mind, but he thought Eileen understood anyway.

Eileen pushed his hair out of his face and behind his ear, sighing, and for a moment both of them were quiet.

“Of all of the people in Hyrule...” Eileen murmured, aching with regret. “Is there anything we can do to help, Selwyn?”

Selwyn grunted unhappily. “I'll need to ask,” he muttered, leaving off the unspoken and shameful admission that he hadn't yet been able to bring himself to. “But Eileen, from everything he's said, from the way he behaves around us... Goddess Hylia, I think he just needs someone to take care of him.”

His voice roughened toward the end of the exclamation, and he cleared his throat, frustrated. Eileen was quiet for a few moments, and then tugged gently on his sleeve, urging him to look up at her. She was smiling, a wan and brave little grin.

“I've been thinking about that,” she said. “It's... awful, the thought of what can, what would happen to our children without us. But then I started to think, how many parents have the chance to try and heal that damage?” Her smile softened a little as Selwyn looked at her, becoming a little embarrassed. “It's small comfort, I know. But as badly as Honey has been hurt in our absence, I... like to think of how much better it is for him, now that we're here.”

Selwyn blinked at her, and then smiled, warm and pleased.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “You're right, of course. Perhaps with a bit of luck, we can make all the difference in the world.”

Chapter Text

Not two full days passed before Cedric had them all assemble in the royal guards' chamber again, all nine of the senior guards as well as Link himself. Link set his sword on the table again and watched it with a hawk's eye, as if one of them would try to damage or make off with it, and each of them took very careful turns throwing themselves into the trials.

They'd learned by now, quite harshly and in a few different ways, that matching Link's skill would probably be the most difficult challenge most of them had ever taken on. None of them approached the task lightly.

As they filtered through, frequently doubling back for a second or third or fourth try, they split into groups, discussing the challenge and tactics to put to work, comparing notes, checkpoints- Selwyn even caught a few of them discussing very specific monsters in a room, the furthest lizalfos lookout over the water or a black moblin toward the end.

Ambrose got into an argument with half the guard about how many bokoblin there were in one room before Link coughed into his hand, drawing their attention, and explained that his sword had taken quite a dislike to Ambrose, and seemed to have handicapped him. Ambrose was outraged; the thought almost made Selwyn chuckle.

By the time they'd all filtered through, every one of them was visibly exhausted, mentally if not physically. Ambrose was rubbing his forehead in irritation, and Cedric looked disappointed in a way that made even Selwyn wince in guilt.

“Three,” Cedric said, profoundly unimpressed. “Eight of Hyrule's finest, and three eked out a pass on the first set of trials.”

Selwyn pursed his lips, trying not to agree too obviously; from his unconcerned expression, most of his attention on his sword, Link didn't seem surprised. Selwyn would even venture to say he'd seemed a little impressed, like he hadn't expected so many of them to get as far as they had.

Link didn't seem to expect much from other swordsmen.

It had been Cedric, Ambrose, and Asher that had made it through. Asher had been the last, having gone at the trials like a dog with a bone. In the set of his expression, Selwyn could see the same flinty determination he himself bore.

Having already passed, Selwyn had been exempted from attempting the first set again. He'd taken three swings at the second, which had brought him all the way to the second stationary guardian, where he'd gotten stuck. There had to be a trick to those things, but he had to admit, there was something unnerving about that eye swinging to face him in the darkness.

Only Ambrose and Asher had attempted the second set alongside Selwyn. Both of them had hit the first guardian, fallen, and not gone back in.

It was clear that Cedric was trying to find somewhere to go from there, but he kept cutting himself off. Frustration clashed with resignation clashed with determination, inner conflict playing out across his face. Selwyn understood; the things that had been expected of the royal guard before were already well beyond what most casual swordsmen would even believe were possible. What they were being asked to manage now was another league beyond that.

So he couldn't berate them for poor performance, which they hadn't truly demonstrated. But neither could he let it slide. They needed to be better. Failure was in no way an option.

Still, there was something about it- about Cedric's defeated expression, and Link's mild-mannered surprise, that rubbed Selwyn entirely the wrong way. There had to be more they could do.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he leaned forward and said, “Wait.”

Cedric stopped. Link tilted his head curiously, and Selwyn turned around to meet his eyes. Baby blue eyes, large and curious, still easy to remember with a toddler's cheerful little troublemaker grin. There was no more of a leap from that age to his son now than there was from his son now to the man in front of him.

“Explain to me how to defeat a guardian,” he said, feeling reckless and just a little bit desperate.

Link frowned, guarded uncertainty flickering across his face, but when no one stepped in, he raised his hands and hesitantly started to answer. He wouldn't meet Selwyn's eyes, but his movements were confident and steady.

The most important thing is to keep them from firing. You have five seconds to shoot them in the eye, and that will stun them for a little longer than that. You have five seconds from when they lock on to shoot them again. He shrugged. With a stationary guardian, that's about it. If it's a stalker, you can cut its legs off to make it stationary. Other than that, you hit it hard until it breaks. Guardians are pretty sturdy, but take something strong and heavy to it and they break eventually.

“Is that all?” Selwyn pressed, searching Link's expression intently.

Link hesitated.

I've never seen anyone but me execute this correctly, he said slowly. It's kind of dangerous. I'm not sure I'd recommend it.

“Link,” Selwyn said firmly, and nothing else. Link's shoulders dropped.

You can shield parry the eye beam, he signed. You have to time it to exactly the moment the beam hits the shield. But it does a good amount of damage if you deflect it back right. More than any normal weapon, and some ancient ones too.

Selwyn sat up, steeled himself for one last attempt, and gestured to Link's sword. “May I?”

Link searched his eyes for a moment, uncertain and oddly vulnerable, and then nodded. Selwyn held that expression in his mind as he hit the ground, back in the elevated chamber that was quickly becoming familiar to him.

He was moving before the first bokoblin fired.

“You did well to complete the second set of trials.”

Relief washed over Selwyn as soon as he heard the voice of his son's sword spirit, and he looked up the first staircase, and then the second, where the spirit was regarding him coolly.

He'd taken so many hits in the last couple of fights that he could still feel a phantom ache in his body; it had taken two fairies to get him the whole way through. Still, he climbed the stairs until he was only a yard in front of the sword spirit. It seemed the respectful thing to do, and Selwyn was quite sure he did not want to disrespect this spirit.

“You have reached the end of your set goal, but not the end of your journey,” the spirit said unflinchingly, gaze boring into his. “You know that you have very far yet to go, and I am not speaking of the final trials.” Selwyn nodded warily. “You may proceed. However, before that, I have a final test for you, should you choose to take it.”

The world around them shifted, placing Selwyn and the spirit both at the base of a large tower in a Sheikah pattern. There were ruins around it as well, half-drowned in an ominous violet, shifting sludge that seemed to murmur into the air, glowing with old power.

“This is what my master remembers of Akkala Citadel,” the spirit said. She wasn't looking at him anymore; she was regarding the sticky, oozing ruins with visible distaste. “You need not pass this test, only take it. The objective-” She shifted her gaze to the top of the tower, and Selwyn followed, frowning when he realized that there was ooze caked onto the tower as well. “-is to reach the top of Akkala Tower.”

“And the catch?” Selwyn asked. He swore the spirit almost smiled.

“If your skin makes contact with these puddles of malice, it will be the most painful thing you've ever felt,” she said, and then she vanished. Selwyn chose to believe it was because she already knew his answer.

He dragged his gaze from one side to the other, contemplative and wary. There wasn't an obvious way up without touching the swamp, but then, it wouldn't be much of a challenge then, would it? He circled the large pool a few times, searching for a route up, and tried not to notice the shift and sigh of the mire.

Evil swamp, Link had called it. Ha ha.

Finally, Selwyn decided that the only way up was through, and it would be better to take the punishment than stall here forever, looking for a solution that didn't exist. He wove his wary way through the ruins, tottering over a steel beam towards the tower and then hopping down, crept up again, and finally latched onto the tower and hauled himself up.

There wasn't as much malice through here as there were on most other parts. He'd have to put a hand in it, there was no avoiding that without scraping his chest or stomach through the swamp, but if he was careful, he probably wouldn't do more than clip a leg or a foot.

He put his hand into the muck.

His mind went blank.

It would have been less painful to put his hand in boiling water. The pain roared up from his hand all the way to his shoulder, and it knocked the wind out of him. He seized, locking up as if all his nerves had screamed loud enough to make a shock like a yellow lizal, and then the steel webbing simply... slipped out of his grip.

He was falling before he realized he'd let go, and he was flinching away from the sword, back in the guard chamber, before he realized he was falling. He tried to take a breath. Couldn't.

“Hah!”

In less than a second, Asher was on his feet, and Link was right next to him, reaching for the hand he'd folded down around, unwinding it to look for damage that wasn't there. Selwyn blinked at the worried face of his son, then looked down at his entirely unharmed hand, and took a deep breath to a count of five. Let it out to a count of three. In to a count of five.

“I'm alright,” he said at last, only a little shaky, and gently pulled his hand out of Link's before he met his eyes with an intensity he couldn't have begun to explain. “I completed the middle trials. The final room was a single guardian scout. Three arms.”

Link stared at him, eyes wide with a shattered sort of shock, exactly the way that Selwyn belatedly realized he'd been hoping for. He looked down at the hand Selwyn had favored, then back up at Selwyn, expression melting into wary confusion.

Selwyn gave him a kind smile, and thought he understood exactly what the sword spirit had been trying to accomplish.

He imagined collapsing in a patch of what he'd just touched, and remembered how many ugly blotches of scarring he'd seen on Link's bare body, back in Zora's Domain. How large they had been. How many of them had looked liquid.

“She suggested I climb a tower,” Selwyn said. Link tilted his head. Selwyn let his smile turn rueful. “I think I did it wrong.”

It took a moment, but Link's eyes widened with comprehension, and if anything he looked even more anxious and worried than before. Selwyn gave in, reached up, and ruffled Link's hair. Goddess Hylia, but he had to marvel at the fact that Link was still the same kind boy he'd always been.

“But the trials, Link,” Selwyn reminded him gently, steering his mind away from that malevolent swamp. “If I could do it now, I think the others can manage it sometime in the next couple of years, don't you?”

After only a second, Link broke into a smile so wide it closed his eyes, and he nodded firmly. And this time, Selwyn thought with a rush of heady relief, he truly seemed to believe it.

“So, our goal is to become Selwyn,” Asher said, gently poking fun as he eased back into his seat, still looking a little shaken. One of the younger guards groaned, slapping a hand over her forehead, and Selwyn gave Asher a severe look that was a little too sincerely felt. Perhaps Asher picked that up, because he eased up a little, switching to more of a business tone. “I suppose it's good to have something to shoot for, but it's definitely a long-term goal. But if I had to suggest something, I'd say we're due for a visit to the training grounds.”

Link looked confused, so Selwyn explained, “The military training grounds, south of the Great Hyrule Forest.” Link's expression cleared, and Selwyn smiled a little. “It's not a bad idea. The grounds are excellent for terrain and obstacle training.”

Link nodded thoughtfully, and then asked, What did he mean, become you?

For some reason, Selwyn was thrown back to the first few days, when he'd sparred with Honey for the first time, and the boy had told him, completely earnestly after beating him by a landslide, that he was the best he'd ever fought. He wanted to laugh. “I have... let's say, more of an intuition for swordsmanship than most of my peers.”

Link hummed in satisfaction, nodding again like a few things suddenly made sense. A league above, and then a league above again.

Selwyn suddenly worried that the work of the last ten minutes would be undone. “...Yes.”

But Link still looked more thoughtful than resigned, taking a few minutes to mull something over before he said suddenly, I don't know what happened to the royal guard. Zelda never said.

“I imagine most of us stayed with either the king or the princess, or perhaps fell wherever we happened to be when the Calamity struck,” Cedric said, drawing their attention back to him. “I confess, I'm more interested in what happened to you. You've never quite specified.”

Link stiffened, and it was on the tip of Selwyn's tongue to bat the subject away from Link before it could hurt him, turning it firmly down. He thought Cedric might even listen if he did, after the week before.

Whether from his own curiosity or his sense of duty, though, Selwyn held his tongue.

I don't remember, he said at last, signs slow and careful. I don't think it matters.

“It would be useful,” Cedric said, very quietly, “to know the threshold of what it took to beat someone of your skill.”

Link pressed his lips together firmly, looking less than enthused, but after another minute, he capitulated.

Zelda says it took us three days to run to Fort Hateno, he signed slowly. It wasn't quite nonstop. She isn't well-conditioned for such flights, so we would stop for short periods to rest, and twice to sleep. For... for her to sleep. She was very clear about that.

It was horrifyingly easy to imagine, actually. The same resolve, and the conditioning resulting from it, that had driven his five-year-old son to train for countless hours had probably been what let Honey power through days without rest. Selwyn wondered grimly how long it had taken for blisters to develop on his hands, which must have been callused and well-used to handling a sword by then.

We were pursued the whole way by silver monsters and guardian stalkers, Link continued, eyes fixed on the table, looking more focused than anything, if very tense around the shoulders. I really, truly don't know any details. But Zelda said I started taking injuries on the second day, when I ran out of arrows, and that by the time we reached Fort Hateno, I needed help to walk. He hesitated for a moment, debating something, and then said, Eventually, a guardian came for us, and I didn't have the strength to lift my shield. That was when Zelda awakened her power. I collapsed very soon afterward.

For almost a minute, all Selwyn could think that he was very glad, after all, that Link did not remember any of that.

Then, selfishly, he wanted to go home, and hold his young son in his lap again until he slept through the night.

And then, right at the heels of the other two, stony resolve. There would be no reason for Link to fight alone against the Calamity's hordes. Not as long as there was blood in Selwyn's body.

“Well, then the solution seems to me to be very easy,” Cedric said calmly. Link came out of his trance to blink at the man in confusion, and he was far from the only one. The corners of his mouth quirked up. “I'll suggest safehouses be built into some of the mountains and other naturally reinforced areas. They'll be kept stocked with supplies. It will be costly, but the king spares no expense against the Calamity. You may be asked to meet with a quartermaster to help decide what to include.”

Staring at Cedric, Link swallowed, and then swallowed again. He glanced down the table, like someone would tell him Cedric was joking, and then looked back at Cedric and nodded stiffly. He looked too overwhelmed to even sign.

For his part, Selwyn was desperately grateful. If it never served another function – and hopefully it would never need to – it would still, at least, give Link some badly-needed peace of mind.

Cedric didn't quite smile, but his expression was a little softer when he regarded Link. “You might also consider speaking to Robbie and Purah. I believe they've been making good progress on their research, and I expect their weapons are among the things that would be best included in supply caches, yes?”

Link nodded hard, reached up to rub his cheek, and huffed, then grunted, eyes closing most of the way for a long moment.

Thank you, he signed at last, without looking up. For everything.

Chapter Text

Link invited Grace to go with him to the royal lab. She accepted, seeming genuinely interested, and he spent the walk over telling her about Robbie and Purah – their respective work, what they'd been like in his own time, what they were doing now and what he did when he checked on them.

He slowed down as they approached the lab, but he found himself smiling faintly; it looked closer now to what he would have imagined it as, from what had been left when he found it. It had clearly been expanded at least twice, and the walls were high and sturdy, and a couple of chimneys were spitting smoke into the air. He waved Grace forward eagerly, and she followed him only half a step behind, craning her neck to peer curiously past him.

He knocked before they entered and led her through, looking around to see where Robbie and Purah each were. They seemed to be working together at the moment, and he was delighted to realize that they seemed to have put together a working prototype for the ancient short sword.

Link whistled to catch their attention, making them both turn sharply and then leap apart as if caught doing something bad. He laughed, and Grace stifled a giggle as well. Link pulled out his Sheikah slate as he approached and tapped out casually, “Is that the final version?”

Purah, unsurprisingly, recovered first. “Just about! We'll need you to test it a little, but it works at the push of a button, and that's a damn good sign. Seems to look the same on the inside and out.”

Link smiled and glanced at Grace to explain, and started when he saw her looking more lost than he'd expected, her smile turned a little stiff and uncertain, like she'd found a slug instead of a meal on her plate and wasn't sure yet if it was a joke. He tapped her on the shoulder, set his slate aside, and translated quickly. She perked up, confidence restored in full.

You've been wanting one of these, right? she asked. Dad mentioned it last night.

Link wondered how that might have come up, but he nodded. The materials are too rare for them to be widespread, but there aren't sturdier or stronger weapons anywhere. And Robbie and Purah are clever; I knew they could put them together if I asked.

You seem to like them, Grace commented, wide eyes curious.

Link's smile turned embarrassed. Yeah. Like I said earlier, they were good friends, and they're good people. And I thought you might like to see the ancient weaponry. The way it works is amazing to watch.

Purah cleared her throat pointedly, looking a little impatient, and Link looked down at his half-forgotten Sheikah slate and immediately winced at the idea of trying to translate everything he and Grace had said with it. Instead, he apologetically picked it up and said, “I think they would like to see weapons.”

The look Purah gave him was a lot more lingering than Link properly understood, but eventually, she brightened like nothing had happened at all, enthusiastically demonstrating the couple of prototypes they'd put together – the sword, the spear, a morningstar that Link eyed thoughtfully. No arrow yet, which was disappointing; they were apparently taking his warnings to heart and being conservative with them, which made progress slower.

Grace seemed delighted and jumpy by equal parts; Link wondered if she spent much time around elemental weapons at all. But she asked good questions that Link translated the best he could, and seemed, unless he was mistaken, to look at him for his reaction almost as often as he looked for hers.

At some point Purah and Robbie retreated into the corner to retrieve and argue over some notes, and Link turned his head as he heard something. It was too quiet to properly make out, but it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and without thinking he headed toward the rear door.

What is it? Grace asked.

I heard something, Link signed, and then pushed open the door, looking out into the enclosed back field. His mind went blank.

The enormous round eye of a guardian swiveled around to look directly at him. Distant but clear, he heard the high, rapid alarm of a guardian’s targeting sequence.

Without a second thought, he grabbed Zelda by the arm and ran.

The castle was a lost cause; there were too many guardians around it, goddess, they’d dug them all up and activated them, set them in key locations, everything needed to keep someone out- their only chance was to get to… Akkala Citadel? No, Fort Hateno, Akkala Citadel was guarded by the ancient machines too, dozens of them.

Behind him, Zelda was stumbling, unused to running, and Link struggled to slow his pace to accommodate her without giving too much ground. He was sorry to push her, but even Link had limits, and they could only risk so much pursuit.

“Ah? L- L-lin-” Her voice was high with panicked confusion, but there wasn’t any time to explain, in order to get even a semblance of safety they’d have to reach – he glanced around quickly – the Breach of Demise, probably, that would provide some cover where he could explain.

Instead, he tugged pointedly at her wrist, wincing at the pained sound she made in response, and kept going.

Even he was breathing hard by the time they made it into the shallow cover, his side burning with the injuries he’d taken. Zelda was wheezing, clinging to his arm, and he helped her sit down carefully before he explained, still trying to calculate how to get her somewhere safe.

I’m sorry, I couldn’t do it, he fumbled out, struggling to even out his breathing. There were just, there were too many guardians, too much sticky malice, I- I couldn’t even make it inside, something happened to the champions, something went wrong.

Zelda made another sound of confusion, listing forward as she panted and wheezed, and signed shakily, What are you talking about?

I don’t know, Link said miserably, looking around quickly. There wasn’t any sign of approaching monsters, but that wouldn’t last long. He'd seen them, marching in platoons. But we’re alone, we have to retreat, we have to get to Fort Hateno, it’s the only place that isn’t reinforced by guardians. We won’t be safe anywhere else.

There was a brief pause, and Link stopped looking around to look back at Zelda, just starting to catch her breath as she stared at him in confusion.

Why are we running? she asked, slowly, too slowly, didn’t she understand how much danger they were in?

We have to, Link said forcefully, like it wasn’t tearing him apart. Dad told us, remember? Both yours and mine. If all else fails, we get out. We fight another day. We can’t help anyone if we’re dead.

Zelda was staring at him like she’d never seen him before, face pale.

It’s Grace, Zelda signed to him at last, trying to smile like nothing was wrong, her hands shaking as she slowly stood up. It’s Grace and we’re just outside Castle Town.

I know! Link snapped, his heart racing so hard that it hurt. It was hard to breathe. I know Grace is in the castle! I’m sorry! Tears stung at his eyes, spilling hot lines down his cheeks. I promised to protect you. I have to protect you. We have to go.

He grabbed Zelda’s wrist and tugged again, making her stumble, but instead of running, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He stiffened, confused, and involuntarily breathed in.

Mushrooms. She smelled like mushrooms and apples.

…No, that wasn’t right. Zelda smelled like paper and ink, and usually incense too. Grace smelled like mushrooms and apples. He turned his head closer and breathed in again. Still mushrooms and apples.

He lifted his head, staring blearily at the castle. The skies were clear. There was no taste of malice in the air.

No sign of monsters or the Calamity.

All the strength went out of him at once, and his legs gave way; he would have crumpled to the ground if Grace hadn’t caught him, lowering them both down until they were sitting. He clung to her like a limpet, shuddering as he slowly processed what had happened, and let out a soft, choked whimper.

“Shhh,” Grace soothed, keeping him tight against her. “Hm-hm. Shhh. Hm-hm.”

A strangled whine pulled itself free, and Link turned his face into her neck, breathing in again. Mushrooms and apples. Mushrooms and apples. He was in Hyrule, before the Calamity ever happened, and they weren't being swarmed.

He breathed. Mushrooms and apples.

Drained and shivery, Link didn't fully come back to himself until he realized she was shaking, too. He pulled away and sat up, feeling a little dizzy and lightheaded, and looked at her. She tried to smile, lifted her hands as if to say something, and then clapped both hands over her mouth and sobbed instead, frightened and overwhelmed.

Link blinked at her dumbly, and then, deliberately, softened, feeling guilty and upset. On shaky legs, he got to his feet and helped her up, and with some coaxing, they started back toward Castle Town at a much easier pace, Link staying where he could keep a comforting arm around Grace.

He must have scared her pretty bad, he thought, with a bitterness directed only at himself. He felt sick.

They made it back to the Hallowells' home in the late afternoon, and by then, Grace had long since stopped crying, but now she was avoiding looking at him, tense and obviously unhappy. Link looked away from her in return, but didn't pull away; he wanted to make sure she got home.

Most of the rest of the Hallowells were there when they returned, which was regrettable but not surprising; it was a weekend day, and aside from Selwyn, most of them had time off. (Robbie and Purah were just obsessed with their work, which Link knew.)

Link guided Grace to Eileen and explained what had happened without looking at her, using the briefest explanation possible, and then escaped – not out the front door, as his conscious thought had been, but instead up the ladder and into the attic. And when he still felt too closed in, too crowded, he opened the window and squeezed out, hauling himself onto the roof.

He could feel the wind blowing against his skin. It was a soothing feeling. He settled on the crook of the roof over the window, and then flopped back, exhausted. He still felt shivery.

He turned his head so he could see the royal lab in the distance, and stared at it blankly. He didn't know what he was waiting for, if he thought it would just suddenly crumble to dust under the trampling feet of the guardian inside, but he had to watch it.

An eternity later, someone joined him on the roof, and for the first time in at least an hour, Link broke eye contact with the lab and looked over. It was Little Link, and he looked mulish and sullen and uncomfortable.

You made Grace cry, he said accusingly, when he realized Honey was looking. G-giggle, Honey noticed distantly, was a very difficult sign to make in anger.

Sorry, he signed belatedly, feeling clumsy and slow. I didn't mean to.

Little Link stared at him for a long moment, and slowly, his shoulders fell.

Mom said you had a nightmare, but you were awake, he said after another minute. Honey mulled that over for a minute, and then nodded.

Yeah. Pretty much.

Little Link stared at him. Honey did not elaborate.

Dad gets nightmares when he's awake too, Little Link said at last, surprising Honey. Grace had implied his younger self didn't know that. Little Link didn't seem to notice his reaction. Mom sits with him afterward and they talk about Lake Hylia. Do you have something like that?

Honey found himself smiling faintly, and he pushed himself up and turned to face little Link better. Zelda and I used to talk about Satori Mountain, he answered.

I've never been there, little Link said earnestly.

Honey told little Link about Satori Mountain.

Honey slipped off the roof before Selwyn got home, or Eileen could come up to try to talk to him, and started back toward the royal lab. With every step, his blood burned hotter. He got angrier. What were they thinking, after everything that had happened? Everything that the guardians could do? How dare they? By the time he reached the lab, night had fallen and he was boiling.

He pushed the door open. He did not knock.

Purah and Robbie were there, which did not surprise him one bit. Impa was too, and that knocked him off balance for a moment before he reoriented himself, and without thinking, he started signing furiously, not even caring that they wouldn't understand.

What were you fucking thinking? You know damn well exactly what you're risking, digging up that malice-fucked lump of ground-up junk from a piss-drunk rot-eating bastard, did I not show you enough fucking pictures of everything they crushed under their goddess-damned feet, did I need to show you the bodies too, should I have shown you the fucking child from the fucking cart that tried to drive through Hyrule goddamn fucking field-

Link paused, uncharacteristic rage twisting into a stranglehold around every muscle in his body. Someone was talking. He rounded angrily on the voice, baring his teeth, and Impa stammered, taking a startled half-step back. It was at that point that Link realized she was translating his words aloud.

Link looked away again and kept signing furiously, but grudgingly kept it where she could see it. He admitted to himself that he felt a little better, knowing that his words were at least being heard.

You shred that thing down and don't wake up any more or we'll be back where we fucking started! Link signed, hard enough that he could have ripped a hole in the air with the raw strength of his hands. Don't make this any damn harder than it has to be! I don't even know what to say to you! I don't care what your reasons were, nothing is fucking worth this! Nothing could ever be worth this! I'm not a fucking god, I'm not, I can't stop them from tearing apart villages or ripping up farms or outposts or buildings or roads or-

Oh. He was having a panic attack again.

“Control yourself, Link. They were acting on my orders.”

Still in full kingly garb, King Rhoam walked through the door, looking grim. At his heels, Selwyn, looking worried and frayed, and a few other guards Link had worked with and not spoken to, and what looked like a messenger.

He looked from them back to Purah and Robbie, for the first time registering their reactions- both huddled back in clear shock, Purah's head bent in a poor attempt to hide the fact that her face was wet, and Robbie dead pale. He looked at them for a moment, and then to Rhoam again, refusing to comprehend what he was being told.

...Your orders? he repeated blankly.

King Rhoam was regarding him with an aloof look that cut Link somewhere raw and screaming. “My orders. I instructed them to continue working on the attempts to reactivate the guardians alongside the Divine Beast and Sheikah Tower projects. I judged that as long as precautions were taken, the benefits still outweighed the risks. They were also instructed to inquire as to further precautions they might take... or activation parameters.”

Link thought back to the last time he had visited, and they had asked him about the scouts. He clapped a hand over his mouth and gagged.

Everything was crashing down around Link's shoulders. Everything had been for nothing, all of the training, all of the gathering, planning for the champions, redirecting Zelda's training, it was all- he leaned over and dry heaved, not caring that he was overreacting, that he was falling apart in front of people, that his vision was swimming with tears.

He'd failed. He'd failed again, and Hyrule was going to fall, and Zelda was going to die all over again and there was nothing at all that he could do to stop it after all and he may as well have given up the first time. He may as well have died, for all the good he did anyone.

“Your Majesty, I, I don't think Link is able to...” Selwyn started, strained and stammering.

“Go, Selwyn,” Rhoam said dismissively, and then Selwyn was rushing forward.

He didn't touch Link, which was good, because Link thought he might have screamed if he had. Instead he sat down arm's length away from where Link had collapsed onto the ground, head spinning, and signed something Link couldn't follow.

In only a few minutes, all of the lights were blown out, all of the machines turned off, and everyone except for Selwyn and Link left.

It was quiet.

I want to go home, Link said without looking up, and he knew he was crying.

“I'm so sorry, Link,” Selwyn said quietly, and Link put his forehead against his knees and screamed anyway.

Selwyn didn't do anything else for a long while after that. He sat with Link until there were crickets chirping outside, deafening to Link's ears. He paid attention when Link finally reached out and pawed at him urgently, finally resorting to pointing at the back door where the guardian lurked. He went looking when Link poked through the slate again, fumbling to try and cobble meaning together, and found Link's ancient armor among the stored parts and prototypes, and then the eleven remaining ancient arrows and an extra shield. He led Link out the front door and away, and he helped Link sit and then lay down next to a pond that Link would probably recognize in the morning.

Link curled up on his side, feeling scraped hollow and miserable and lonely, and he missed Sidon, and he missed Paya, and Teba, and oh, Goddess, did he miss Zelda.

Exhausted and far away from the slumbering guardian, Link fell asleep between one breath and the next.

Chapter Text

Despite Selwyn and Eileen's best efforts, Link spent the next week trapped in his own head. Living in what should have been the heart of the Calamity's power, he felt paralyzed by fear; every shadow was a lizalfos, every corner hid a turret. Where before he'd only vaguely recognized any part of the castle, now every part that matched to one he remembered screamed in his line of sight, along with exactly what lurked there. The shield flashes of the training grounds made him physically nauseous. Twice he pulled his sword on a passing armored soldier; once it was his bow, an ancient arrow nocked and aimed. Too many times, he woke up screaming.

He was jumpy and miserable, and he didn't have the strength to break himself out of it. Rose quartz didn't help, Zelda didn't help, sitting down and sorting his inventory and listing everything he remembered about Satori Mountain didn't help. His body ached and throbbed all the way down to his bones.

At a week and a half, Eileen took Link by the hand and pulled him along, and he followed meekly. He didn't realize where they were going until he saw the building, and then he looked at Eileen, blank with question.

“We're going to Satori Mountain,” Eileen said, in a no-nonsense, businesslike tone that did not invite argument.

Link let her pull him into the stable, climbed onto Hush when prompted, and followed her out and away. Eileen's horse was a pretty black mare, calm and collected, responding easily to a touch on the neck or a tug of the reins. Eileen told him, unprompted, that her name was Starlight, she was Eileen's second horse, and she was getting on in years.

She led him north, the opposite direction from Satori Mountain, but he barely noticed, his hands loose on Hush's reins. For the first time in a week, he was looking at the distance, eyes on the fields as they passed.

Riding at an easy pace, it took nearly a week; Eileen took a long route, going counterclockwise past the castle, over Tanager Canyon, south through Tabantha, and finally east past Thundra Plateau to reach Satori Mountain.

But before they ever reached it, Link was already feeling better. It was easier to get up in the morning, and easier to go to sleep at night. He woke up fewer times through the night, and a few times he cooked for the two of them, when they were far from company. He could breathe again.

Mary said you get restless, Link said once, the only time he spoke all day on the third day of the journey. Eileen smiled at him, soft and pleased.

My parents are merchants, she signed. You only ever met them a couple of times, but I grew up on the road. I had my own horse because I couldn't stand the cart, and they found it easier to just let me move.

They didn't approach Satori Mountain from the road; both of them decided together that it wasn't worth the trouble. They made their way up a steep but manageable rock slope instead, leading their horses by the reins. When they found a level patch of ground with some trees and plenty of grass, they tied them up and left them there to graze.

Without waiting any longer, Link made a beeline for the first stop, a cluster of trees around a stump, and sat down, leaned back against it, and breathed. Breathed.

And, for the first time in close to three weeks, Link relaxed.

Nothing could hurt him on Satori Mountain.

For the most part, neither of them spoke while they were on Satori Mountain. They hardly even signed; the only thing Link said the entire time was to ask Eileen not to hunt there, because it was disrespectful, and she had agreed.

Some parts of the mountain, he took her to. That first shelf had swift carrots, and safflina, and blue nightshade, and he dug up some of those to snack on or use later. He took her to the first clear pool, which had very little around it, but was cool and good to drink. He took her to the apple orchard, where the trees were so heavy with fruit that there was plenty on the ground to pick up at leisure, no need to jump or reach.

A few times they split up, and he climbed around and lingered in his favorite places while she found some on her own. She brought him a hearty durian that they shared, making faces and laughing at the stink. She found a couple of the deposits of glittering gemstones. Her eyes sparkled with childish delight when she brought him a sizable harvest of mushrooms she'd picked from around the mountain, which they roasted by turns and shared beside the fire. Link thought that she might love Satori Mountain nearly as much as he did.

At night, they slept by the cherry blossom pond. After a couple of days, Link picked the silent princesses and wove them together with the blue nightshade into a crown, and he offered them to Eileen, and she accepted them.

They spent a week on Satori Mountain. It was longer than Link had ever allowed himself to linger on his own, but with every night they stayed there, his chest unwound. He spent days snacking quietly on the bounty of the flora around them, and took naps when he wanted, and at night he played with his fingers in the water and listened to the chirping of crickets. Eileen explored, climbed trees, once expended great effort to sit atop the very peak, wind blowing her hair as she beamed out over the vast, rolling wilds. Mostly, she just stayed with him, always within shouting distance.

It occurred to him, eventually, that the waking of one guardian did not necessarily mean the end of Hyrule. He rolled over, took a nap, and had no nightmares.

On the eighth day they'd been on the mountain, Link woke up in the morning, contemplated the castle in the distance for a while, and then lazily suggested to Eileen that it was time to go home. They picked up and left, and Eileen asked him which way he wanted to return by. That was when Link realized that the initial route had been to circumvent two trigger points: the fields south of Castle Town, and the royal lab.

Link smiled at her warmly, and indicated that they should take the short way, through the fields.

Just don't ask me about guardians while we're there, Link said, and was surprised to realize that the gestures had been almost playful. Eileen smiled at him and promised not to.

And they went home.

It was harder than Link had expected to get through the fields; the knowledge that there were active guardians, now, in this era, was a gnawing fear in the back of his mind. Still, he and Eileen made it through and stabled their horses outside the castle, and with only a moment of hesitation, Link hugged her tightly before he took off.

With reluctance, Link found his way towards the king's study again. He did catch a bustle of activity that indicated his return had been noticed, but he tried to ignore it, making his slow way through the halls. When he reached the study, there were fewer people than he'd expected there – King Rhoam himself, Robbie, and a couple of guards, Selwyn and Asher and Cedric.

Link sat down a comfortable distance away, crossed his arms on the table, and tilted his head. King Rhoam spoke first.

“I concede that I underestimated the degree of your battlesickness, and I apologize for mishandling it,” Rhoam said calmly. “But I will not apologize for ordering the guardians awoken.”

Link nodded, feeling tired already but ultimately unsurprised. How many?

“There are four awakened at this time,” Rhoam said. Link's stomach turned, but he nodded grimly. “Link. If there is something that can be done to lessen the degree to which this affects you, I will see it done.”

It was likely the closest Link would come to getting an apology.

Tell me why, he said helplessly. Hadn’t he told them enough about the horrors the guardians had wrought?

“In your time, we were taken by surprise and completely unprepared,” Rhoam said quietly. “That is why they were able to wreak the destruction that they did. That is not now the case. You have brought not only the warning, but also the knowledge of counter-tactics and weaponry. If and when they turn, it will be in controlled numbers, and we will not be helpless.”

It made sense. Link hated it, he wanted to cry again, but it made sense.

Why? he repeated.

“The monsters are coming in massive numbers, Link,” Rhoam said, expression taking on a cast of weariness. “Their strength is ever-increasing. There are moblins swathed in the magic of the elements. Ancient taluses are awakening from slumber, hinoxes and lynels migrating from faraway lands. Our army cannot handle war on this scale.”

Link pressed his hands over his face for a moment. He felt achy in a way he knew was purely psychological. After a while, he nodded again, exhaled, and then looked at Robbie.

Uncharacteristically subdued, Robbie set out, one by one, a number of things that Link recognized. An ancient arrow. A deactivated ancient shield. The sword they'd completed. A bow. Link glanced at him warily, and then reached over and tested them, one by one. As far as he could tell, they all seemed to work. He nocked the arrow in the bow and pulled, and everything responded as it should. He put them back down, breathing a little easier.

He glanced up at Rhoam, and then said, stilted, Cedric said you might...

“Already done,” Rhoam said calmly, “barring the intended inclusion of ancient weaponry. The nearest are in the Breach of Demise and Crenel Hills, but others are in the process of being built.”

Link closed his eyes and nodded. Goddess, they were doing this. They were really doing this.

Prove to me that anyone, just, anyone except me can fight a guardian and win, he said at last. Even one guardian.

“Terms?” Rhoam asked.

...No ancient arrows, or shield, Link said. One on one. I'll. I'll walk them through it, beforehand. And anyone else who needs to know.

“Selwyn?” Rhoam prompted.

“Done,” Selwyn said without hesitation, and Link's stomach twisted. But he didn't take it back. “I'll use my own sword.”

Link reached up and rubbed his face. He didn't want to do this. But after a moment, he dropped his hands from his eyes and beckoned Selwyn to sit across from him, and he started to run him through it, starting at the top. I know I already went over this with you. Listen anyway.

And Selwyn did. Link went over everything, from the basics he'd already covered to the little tricks he used on his own, a couple times getting distracted by things he thought were true but he wasn't certain – that guardian scouts could be utilized against full-size guardians, that a spear in the eye would be as good as an arrow, that an eye beam could be parried with a sword as well as a shield.

After a while it was apparently obvious that he was just rambling nervously, because Selwyn reached over, squeezed his shoulder, and said, “Everything will be alright.”

Link clasped his hands together and nodded unhappily.

King Rhoam was apparently serious about following through. They went immediately on to the royal lab, mostly in silence, and found Purah half-asleep on her desk while Robbie did some kind of test on one of the giant ancient cores. Link hung back while Rhoam corralled them both to attention, clearly with more than a little annoyance, and explained what they were needed for. Link kept his eyes on the back door, lips pressed tightly together.

When people started moving, Link went out the back door first.

The guardian, sitting placidly right beside the lab, swung its eye to focus on him. It did not start beeping. It was... possible that had been his mind playing tricks on him. He touched his diamond circlet to remind himself that it was there.

He moved aside, and he didn't turn away from it, but he swept his gaze over the rest of the yard.

As Rhoam had said, there were three more, all lined up against the back wall of the lab. They were curled up like dead spiders, legs pulled close, and all of them had their large eyes fixed on him. His heart fluttered nervously, but he held himself forcibly steady, watching while Robbie crawled under its belly and began to do something, muttering to himself.

Robbie rolled out from under it, and Cedric and Asher moved to guard the king, though both were alert rather than truly tense. Selwyn, meanwhile, strode to the center of the yard, drew his sword, and turned to face the guardian.

Without preamble, it shifted its weight, spreading its legs to full stalker extension, focused on Selwyn, and-

Link clapped his hands over his ears without thinking. He hated the sound of that klaxon.

Selwyn fought the guardian with deadly focus. He dodged to the side of the first shot, darted in, and severed one of its legs. It swiped at him with another, and he leapt away to avoid it, lunged away from the next shot, and rolled to his feet. Parried the next beam with his shield, though it went wide instead of flying back at the guardian, scorching one of the high walls.

Selwyn was doing well. Link could see that, objectively. He kept his wits about him, his focus sharp, he never stopped moving for a moment. The worst moment came when he sliced through the last two legs at once, risking another second in close quarters, and the guardian beam hit him in the shoulder and threw him halfway across the yard. He was up in a moment, panting, but it still made Link's heart jump into his throat, eyes locked on where cloth had been scorched away.

Link bounced unhappily on the balls of his feet.

Finally, what felt like a very long eternity later, Selwyn slammed his sword through a hole in the armor that he'd already torn, and apparently severed enough components inside that its eye dimmed and its body went limp, slumping to the ground. Selwyn was covered in sweat and panting, and his shoulder looked badly burned, but he was on his feet, watching the guardian as if he was ready to keep fighting if it stirred. Link did, too, for a minute.

King Rhoam looked at him. Link exhaled hard.

Fine, he signed at last, exhausted. Okay. Fine. He beckoned for Selwyn to come closer, took a fairy elixir from his slate, and poured it over his shoulder, rubbing gently to encourage it to work, and didn't continue until the skin was healed. The champions should all know how to handle a guardian. And Zelda and Honey Nut should know enough to be able to run from them. I can... there are some shrines near and around the castle, if you want a head start on examining them. See if they protect against malice. But you would need the Sheikah slate.

“It's been found,” Rhoam said. Link jerked his head up, looking at him with wide, surprised eyes. “It was in Lanayru Bluff, as you suggested to our Sheikah scientists. It has not been used or handed over, but it is in our hands.” Link kept staring at him, and Rhoam inclined his head. “The remaining champions have been assembled and all four currently reside in the castle on a temporary basis. They have been briefed, but await more specialized training.”

Link swallowed, trying to wrap his mind around everything that had gotten done in his absence. Rhoam took it for confusion.

“Cedric proposed that it was... harmful, to lay the burden of proactivity on your shoulders,” Rhoam explained. “You do enough as the wielder of the sword that seals the darkness. You do not need to also bear the burden of planning and preparation. As such, we have begun to take steps somewhat more... independently.”

Link wasn't expecting the sweep of dizzying relief that crashed over him.

It was a stupid thing to get hung up on. It wouldn't matter in the end. But- but. If something went wrong. It wouldn't have to be his fault. It wasn't- it wasn't all his responsibility, just this once.

Can I go to the springs at the maw of Death Mountain? he asked on impulse, almost meekly. He swore Rhoam almost smiled.

“It will be arranged by the end of the week,” he said.

It felt strange to be heading toward the Hallowell home before Selwyn did, but Link didn't like the note he'd left his... his siblings on, and he wanted to make sure Eileen knew he was grateful. The route from the castle to the house felt more familiar than he thought it should, and it occurred to him that he must have still lived at home for some time after he'd become a knight. Maybe all the way until he and Zelda began to travel together. Maybe even after that, in between excursions.

And anyway. He had something to ask of Mary.

When he knocked on the door, no one answered at first, and it occurred to him that he might be the first one there. That was... perhaps he should come back later, maybe wait for Selwyn after all. But after a while, someone called out, “Who's there?”

Mary's voice, he realized after a moment. He rocked on the balls of his feet for a moment, wary, and then called back, “Hnn!”

“Wh- oh, for Hylia's sake!”

Footsteps approached the door, and after a few more moments it opened, revealing Mary, hair braided back behind her ears and her eyebrows raised. Her voice came out flat and annoyed.

“Honey.” Mary squinted at him. “This is your home, too, dummy. You should've just come in.”

Link almost smiled, not sure whether to be pleased or embarrassed, and he just grunted again. Mary rolled her eyes and stepped away, bumping the door with her hip so it stayed open for a few seconds longer.

“So, if you're back, Mom should be too, right?” Mary threw over her shoulder, returning to the sofa where she'd discarded some paper and charcoal. Link grunted affirmatively. “Good. Everyone has been in a right state, if Mom's home they can finally calm down.” Link made an unhappy noise. “Oh, shut up.”

Link stuck his tongue at Mary's back, not expecting her to turn around to look at him. He jumped guiltily, but Mary just smirked at him.

“Who were you looking for?” she asked after a moment, plopping down and crossing one leg over the other. She didn't go for her art supplies, her eyes on him, and Link's eyes lingered briefly on the shadow of her birthmark, all across her cheek. “Grace? She's been practicing apologies with Eloise all week, you should handle her before she works herself up anymore.”

Why would Grace apologize? Link frowned and nodded, but clarified, I did want to talk to Grace. But I wanted to talk to you too. It's... He hesitated. It's kind of strange though.

You're my brother from the future, it can't possibly be much weirder than that, Mary signed back without missing a beat, irritable and clipped. What is it? If you make me guess I'll kick you in the shins.

Link stifled a startled snort. I won't, then. It's. It's a favor.

Despite himself, he faltered again, and Mary raised an eyebrow, gesturing impatiently for him to go on.

Did Dad ever explain to you how I ended up so far in the future? Mary shook her head. There's a shrine on the Great Plateau called the Shrine of Resurrection. I got... hurt, and they put me in there to make sure I recovered. He took a deep breath, and without looking at her, rushed out, I want you to make sure I don't go back in there.

He finally looked back at Mary, anxious and pinched. Mary's lips were pressed together tightly.

If you get hurt again, you want me to finish you off, she concluded, unexpectedly sharp. Link nodded earnestly.

I can't ask Selwyn, because I'm worried he won't go against the king for that. And I don't think Mom or Grace or Eloise could. I... don't really know who else to ask. And I think... I think it would hurt worse the second time, if I came back again.

Mary's jaw clenched, and she looked away quickly, but after a long moment, she nodded. Link relaxed all at once, going a little dizzy with relief. He... hadn't realized just how much of a weight it would lift, to stop worrying that everything would repeat itself.

Thank you, he signed. Mary shrugged stiffly.

Whatever. I guess I can keep you from becoming a lich or something.

Link lifted his hand to his mouth, stifling a startled laugh, and for just a moment, Mary smiled.

Oddly, right at that moment, it occurred to Link for the first time that his sisters weren't young for their age. Link was just old for his. His smile faded, and he glanced away and asked, Do you think Mom would mind if I made dinner?

Mary hummed. I dunno, are you planning on staying the night?

...Yeah, Link signed, small and soft. I think so.

Chapter Text

A low, drawn-out groan pulled itself out of Link's chest, and he rolled over to bury his face in the crook of his elbow. And then he realized that he was awake, rain pounding on the window, voices coming from downstairs – for a moment he thought he was in his Hateno home again, and he craned his neck to check on Zelda. As soon as he realized he was sleeping alone, no body beside him, no cold hand in his, he woke up the rest of the way.

He dropped his head back into his arm and tried to talk himself into getting up. He had work to do. He had to get back to the castle, head out to help activate Central Tower, meet the champions and go over how to handle a guardian with them.

Lightning struck outside, and Link twitched. That did explain the acuity of the ache, like a hinox digging blunt fingers into his ribs. He was still there when the trap door swung open, and Selwyn climbed up- Link assumed it was to usher him downstairs and to the castle.

It was not. Link should stop being surprised by this.

“You don't have to go to the castle today if you aren't up to it,” Selwyn said quietly. Link grunted and pushed himself upright, but probably didn't help his case by shuddering as his muscles pulled and cramped, and he reached up and rubbed his shoulder. “Things will keep moving without you, Link. It's fine.”

Selwyn was bad at hiding his worry. Link scrubbed at his eyes, started to stretch, and immediately winced and stopped. Definitely the fire chu ointment today. He looked up at Selwyn and shrugged, dropping back against the cot.

Let me run through my routine and then I'll decide, he said at last.

And he did. The usual stretches were more painful than usual, and he had to perform them very carefully, but they were doable. He used the stinging fire-chu ointment instead of the blue, and it made him wince but then sank into his skin and loosened it. He braided his hair, put on his lightest set of clothing – hero's clothes with his hood instead of the traditional hat – and then leaned heavily against the window and took stock of himself.

His usual pain was achy but not tearing, and he was tense but not rigid. He hadn't gotten lightheaded while he was getting ready. He wasn't getting worked up or upset. That all left him with a couple options, and he contemplated them for long enough that Selwyn came back up to check on him. Selwyn was fretful.

I'm just thinking, Link explained, leaning back against the wall with a wince. I'm not burnt out already, but I don't have the energy to get through the whole day either. I could stay in, but I don't really want to, so I'll probably take a painkiller and go. He shrugged. I'm trying to decide whether ralis root or lavender would be better. I'm more functional on ralis root, but lavender would stretch my energy better, and I'm doing a lot today.

He blinked. That was a lot more than he'd ever explained to anyone else.

Complicated emotions flickered across Selwyn's face, and he signed back after a moment, How well have you recovered from the incident at the lab?

Link nearly groaned, reaching up to rub his face unhappily. Fire of Din, but Selwyn was right- he was going to be emotional too.

Got to be the lavender, then, he said resignedly. Two units would leave him sleepy but functional, and even if it wouldn't completely wipe away the pain, it would wrap all of his sharp edges in cotton. Selwyn was still looking at him, though, with a softness that looked almost like a smile. What?

Nothing, Selwyn deflected, but he was definitely smiling, just the littlest bit. I'm admiring how maturely you've learned to cope with your problems. I don't believe I did nearly as well in my younger years.

Maybe it was strange, but Link found himself biting down a happy hum, and not quite doing the same with a smile. Warmth spread through his chest, shy and pleased. People had expressed admiration for a lot of things he did, his sword skills, his potions, his cooking- but the thing Link was always proudest of was how he'd learned to work with his body.

He was glad to hear someone else say it, too.

Link took his lavender, and the two of them started to head back down the ladder. At the top of it, Link paused, tilting his head. He could smell...

Eileen had made porridge.

A little more slowly, Honey went down and found little Link and Eileen the only other ones awake, little Link sitting on the counter near Eileen and happily eating from his bowl. Eileen gave him a small smile and gestured to the table, where there were two bowls waiting, and Honey grunted happily and went to sit by one. He knew as soon as he took the first bite that it tasted exactly as he remembered, and he tapped his feet in pleasure.

“Good morning, Honey,” Eileen greeted, taking little Link's bowl back and refilling it, then topping it off with a swirl of honey. “Did you sleep well?”

Honey hummed noncommitally. He'd been in and out all night, same as he had been for the past two weeks; his very worst episodes were almost always haunted with dreams of remembered and inexpressible agony, and those were difficult to shake once they'd taken hold. But as those nights went, it hadn't been especially awful. He'd liked being able to watch the street in between stretches of sleep.

Eileen's smile gained a tinge of sympathy, probably not surprised by the non-answer. Selwyn grabbed an apple and a round orange fruit out of the bowl on the count, glanced over and saw Honey staring intensely, and took a second orange fruit. He cut both of them up, gave one to Honey, and shared the second with little Link.

Honey bit into it curiously. The fruit was sweet and tangy, probably the juiciest fruit he'd ever had, though the peel was bitter. Still, he decided immediately that he liked it and shot Selwyn a bright smile.

Selwyn was discarding the peels, and little Link was picking them up and eating them. He and Honey shared a grin.

“It's an orange,” Eileen explained, sitting down with her own bowl of porridge. Honey turned over his slice and looked at the peel. “Yes, it's orange.”

Honey chuckled softly, and put the rest of it aside to finish his porridge before the fruit.

It was a good morning.

By the time they left, the lavender had kicked in and Link was feeling rather drowsy. Sudden movements still stung, but it wasn't like he was making a lot of those. He and Selwyn took their time heading to the castle despite the pouring rain, and Link turned his head to watch the lightning flicker across the sky every so often.

“Feeling alright?” Selwyn asked quietly. Link hummed vaguely, and then nodded. “Good. Did you and Eileen enjoy your time at Satori Mountain? I know she's always wanted to go.”

Link hadn't known that, but it made him feel warm. He nodded again. It's exactly like it was. He ran the phrase through his head again, decided it didn't make sense, and amended, Mom seemed really excited about it. It's- He fumbled for a moment before managing, Plentiful. Lush? There's lots of flourishing life there.

Selwyn was chuckling, looking impossibly fond, and Link found himself smiling when Selwyn reached over to ruffle his hair.

“It sounds perfect for both of you,” he said. “And you and Grace seemed to be getting along smoothly.”

Despite his assured words, his concern was clear in his voice, and Link hummed in the back of his throat, mulling the implied question over, and yawned before he answered.

She was upset that she broke down after I did and couldn't help me finish calming down, he said at last. I told her it was okay. The guardian scared me, I scared her, and we were both too scared to think clearly. It happens. He shrugged. She helped me make the fruit pie for after dinner. It was fun.

“That was very mature of you,” Selwyn said quietly, and there was something heavy in his voice. Link gave him a curious look, but he didn't elaborate, and instead he said, “Does it worry you that you have less control over the plans now?”

They stepped into the castle, and Link shook his head like a dog.

No, he decided. It made me feel better. He shrugged. I've never had to manage other people before. There's usually just me, or maybe one or two people that help me out for a couple of days. It's never been...

He turned his head, looking at the bustling halls, and didn't finish. Selwyn seemed to understand anyway.

“I didn't want it to be a surprise,” Selwyn started, and Link turned his head sharply, then winced at the spike of pain. Selwyn reached out to steady him, and both of them paused for a couple of seconds before Link nodded and they kept going. “Sorry. That is... the king has decided to begin involving Link.”

Link stopped, lifted his head to look at Selwyn, and waited. Selwyn winced this time.

“Not directly,” Selwyn clarified hastily. “But he has decided to bring Link into the loop. He'll be meeting Princess Zelda later today, and the champions as well. I'll be going to get him myself in a few hours. He already knows.”

Link pressed his lips together, then nodded and kept walking. He didn't notice his tension until his skin threatened to protest, and he deliberately relaxed, sighing quietly. He rolled his shoulders and waited a couple moments before speaking.

There's a couple of shrines in and around the castle, Link signed at last. I... was going to leave them all for Honey Nut to find himself, but I think. It would be a good idea to show him and Zelda those, and how to get in. He nodded to himself decisively. One by the docks under the castle, one by the quarry, one in the Breach of Demise, one in Crenel Hills and west of the prison. He clicked his tongue, vaguely frustrated and feeling his tension rise again already. I'll have to check them later, I don't remember all of them. But the one by the quarry was a minor test of strength. It'll be safe enough, he could probably even beat it now.

Lightning flashed, and Link's shoulder threatened to seize, startling him as it broke through the drowsy haze. More frustrated than truly frightened, Link reached up and rubbed his face, and Selwyn nudged him forward.

“Then we'll do that soon,” Selwyn promised quietly.

They ended up in the library this time. King Rhoam had cleared and combined several of the largest tables on the lower level. There was a map, and Link placed himself beside it, wearily looking it over. It had pins in the locations he'd indicated as having Sheikah towers, and a few other things as well. When he looked up, Rhoam was frowning at him.

“Hylian lavender, your majesty,” Selwyn said, before Link could figure out what the man wanted. “Link indicated that he was in too much pain to handle a busy day unaided. I took the liberty of assuming he knew his own limits best.”

Link stifled a yawn, and then pointed at each of the shrine locations he'd mentioned to Selwyn. Cedric gave King Rhoam a questioning look, and at Rhoam's nod, added a pin to each of them as well.

Shrines, Link said plainly, leaning against the table. These ones are in plain sight. He pointed at the ones in the Breach of Demise and the quarry. These are hidden. The prison and Crenel Hills. This one has a puzzle. He pointed at the docks.

“And what of them?” King Rhoam asked after a moment. “You indicated previously that your... counterpart would need to locate them himself.”

Link hummed, low in his throat. They'll be safe, and easier to reach than Akkala Citadel or Fort Hateno. It's fine. None of those were very difficult to find anyway.

Rhoam was frowning down at the map now. “There is one inside the castle itself?”

Link nodded and waved his hand toward one of the towering sets of bookshelves. Behind the docks, through that passage.

“...That passage is secret,” Rhoam said.

Link shrugged, took out his Sheikah slate, activated magnesis and offered it to Rhoam. Rhoam accepted it and held it up, frowning as he slowly worked out the function Link was showing him. Finally, he turned around, and scowled when he saw the apparently secret passage lit up pink.

He turned magnesis off and handed the slate back to Link. “I see.”

Link hummed, rubbing the textured surface of the slate. After a moment Rhoam seemed to realize Link was done.

“We have uncovered the Sheikah tower you indicated northwest of the garrison,” he said at last. “Will my daughter or your counterpart benefit from accompanying us for its activation?”

Link shook his head. Sheikah Towers and shrines are activated the same way. Honey Nut and Zelda will only need to see it done once. It's not difficult. I'll go activate the tower and everything else will spring up after that.

“Very well,” said Rhoam. “Then let us waste no more time.”

It didn't take long at all; they rode over to the tower, squinting through the pouring rain, and Link was a little startled to see the remains of a hill still partially visible around the tower's diamond crown, almost like a particularly broad egg. It was even still partially buried, which Rhoam seemed irritated to see, but Link just nodded and stepped inside. He started to reach for his own Sheikah slate, and then paused and looked at Rhoam. Without waiting for clarification, Rhoam handed him the Sheikah slate they'd uncovered, and Link turned it over thoughtfully.

It looked like the shrines had, pre-activation – all of the carvings were there, but none of them were lit up.

Feeling an eerie sense of deja vu, Link placed the slate in its slot.

It was precisely as dramatic as he remembered. The diamond lit up around him, and with a rattle that he felt all the way to his bones, it whirred to life and began to rise beneath his feet. He grabbed one of the sides, watching the ground fall away beneath them and mud and rocks tumble down. Dust filled the air around them, and despite himself, Link leaned heavily against the rail and smiled. When he lifted his head, just as it was grinding to a halt, the familiar Sheikah Towers were visible in all their old places, lit up orange and glowing through the gloom.

The one around them, of course, was blue.

He turned around. Selwyn, Cedric, and Rhoam had been the only ones in the tower with him, and all of them had recovered rapidly from the surprise. Link took the slate back out of its place and offered it to Rhoam.

Rhoam accepted it without looking, all of his attention on looking around – at the towers, then at the Sheikah shrines now clearly visible, scattered across Hyrule. His face was oddly grim.

“These are the challenges you had to face to prove yourself worthy,” he said.

Link shook his head, wiping his hair out of his face. No. That was never in question. By himself, maybe, but never to the monks, never to Hylia. They're all of them tools. I complete a shrine, I earn a blessing. I earn four blessings, and I can ask Hylia for vitality or stamina. He shrugged. I needed a lot of that after I woke back up. I don't know how many I'd completed before. He tugged at the hem of his tunic. When I completed all of them, the monks gave me this. They're a variation on traditional hero's clothes, I think.

They looked small on him, but the material was soft and sturdy, and held magic better than anything else in plain cloth. The seams were unnoticeable even to him, and the boots had felt broken in from when he first wore them.

They feel nice, he added absently, yawned, and then walked to the access point and dropped to the platform below.

He leaned against the tower and waited for Cedric, Rhoam, and Selwyn to make their own way down; he could hear Rhoam grunting quietly, which gave him a dry sort of amusement. He supposed it could be considered petty revenge for the gasps and grunts he'd made himself, way back when he first woke, his body jolting with each small drop.

He closed his eyes and must have drifted off a little beneath the shield of a platform, because he jumped a split second before Selwyn could touch him, stepping back and turning on his heel. He relaxed as soon as he realized who it was, gave him a nod, and then looked at Rhoam.

Selwyn told me you were bringing Honey Nut in, he said, and before Rhoam could finish drawing himself up, continued, It's fine, I'm not arguing. But if you send for him now, I can show him how to find the shrine by the docks. Zelda, too.

Rhoam nodded thoughtfully. “I'm informed you have a disagreement with Impa.”

She'll be loyal to Zelda, he promised instantly, because that was something he knew to his bones.

“So she reported,” Rhoam agreed, and yes, there was a touch of softness in his eyes. “She has also expressed a desire to amend your relationship with her. I will not force you to cooperate, but I would... request that you take it with an open mind. Impa has trained for the last three years to be a Sheikah aid to the princess and the hero, not merely to the royal family. In fact, she brought the issue to me as a direct concern over her performance.”

Every time Link thought he'd come to learn everything there was to know about the efforts against the Calamity, he was swept off his feet again. He wavered, unsure, and reached up to rub one eye tiredly. His shoulder throbbed, faint and distant.

“Impa will be present when you go to familiarize Zelda and your younger self with the shrine,” Rhoam said decisively. “In an emergency, she ought to be able to take both children there. You are correct in your assessment that neither of them are ready to face the full might of the Calamity.”

A shiver ran down Link's spine. It had nothing to do with the rain.

It's never been that I don't trust her, he said, wanting to be very clear on this. I'm sure she'll do her duty to look after both of them. It's just... He trailed off, struggling to explain exactly why he felt so reserved around her.

“She indicated,” Rhoam said, “that while you had not said anything outright, you implied that her older self had caused significant offense through non-hostile action. You have not thus far struck me as one easily offended.”

Link stayed quiet, unwilling to argue. He felt heavy and tired. It was... essentially true.

“Keep in mind, Link, that the young are far more flexible than the old,” Rhoam said, and then waved Selwyn and Cedric back to the guard squad, starting back towards the castle.

Chapter Text

Impa and Zelda were getting along much better. Link, to his relief, was pleased to realize this. Zelda was eagerly sharing her research and the fruit of her interrogation of the castle's alchemists, and Impa was clearly doing her best to follow along, a fond smile curving her mouth. She asked questions, some of which Zelda answered and most of which she scribbled down, and she moved to shield Zelda as soon as she registered that someone else had come near.

Uncertainty flickered across her face when she looked at Link, but overall, he thought she looked a lot more confident than she had last time he saw her – which must have been over a month ago now, he realized, the royal lab aside. How quickly time could pass.

Zelda sprang to her feet, visibly thrilled. “Link!” Link cocked his head as she scrambled toward him, and she beamed. “You're okay!”

“Are you okay?” Impa followed up. Link stared at her. Impa fidgeted. It took Link almost a full minute to remember that Impa had been there during his initial breakdown, a thought which immediately made him profoundly uncomfortable. But it still didn't tell him how to react to Impa's show of concern.

I'm okay, he said at last, baffled. They stared at each other for a few moments longer, and then he looked at Zelda. You and Impa should be meeting my younger self today. How do you feel about it?

“I dunno,” Zelda mumbled, clearly anxious. She tapped her toes a little, squirming. “The hero's supposed to be all cool and strong and good at things, and I'm...” She stared at her feet.

Despite himself, Link gave her an affectionate, understanding smile, sitting down heavily at the table with Impa. He leaned against it and took a breath before he replied. He's a year younger than you. He likes philosophy and foraging and cooking, and when I first saw him in this time, he was waiting for his older sister to fix the wheel on his toy knight. And he's known what's waiting for him just as long as you have.

At that last, Zelda looked hopeful and then guilty, and Link smile softened.

It's not mean to want someone to understand how you feel, he added, and tried not to think of the fights he and his own Zelda had sometimes had – Zelda missing things and people he didn't remember, her jealousy for the specific, gutting grief he lacked, and his own blinding envy for the memories she'd kept that he had lost to the shrine.

Zelda squirmed, glancing up at him uncertainly, and then, finally, straightened up and nodded firmly, as if making a decision.

“I'm going to make him like me,” she said resolutely, which was both one of the funniest and saddest things Link had ever heard from either Zelda. “You said he likes foraging, right?” Link nodded. “And you like potions?” Nod. “Then I'm going to teach him all about magic plants!” Zelda nodded firmly, bouncing on her toes, and then went for a bookshelf.

Impa shook her head, leaning against the table with a faintly bemused smile. “I really don't know where kids get all that energy,” she admitted, and then glanced sideways at Link, uncertainty creeping into her expression. Link was startled to realize, all at once, that Impa at this age must have been insecure. “You think they'll get along?”

Link hummed and made a so-so gesture with his hand. When Impa kept staring at him expectantly, he gave her an uncomfortable shrug, and reached up to fist at one eye before he answered; lavender always made him slow and sleepy, even in relatively small doses, and his head was threatening to bob even as he tried to answer.

It's hard to say, he said after a moment. I know we didn't the first time around, but I think that time, we met right after I first drew my sword. But Zelda hadn't unlocked her power yet, and she felt insecure and frightened. He yawned. That won't be a problem this time. Zelda isn't training in the same way, so some of the pressure is off, and Honey Nut doesn't have his sword yet.

So you think it'll go better? Impa asked tentatively, switching to sign. Zelda was still poring over the selection of books, choosing the best ones to put in a pile at her feet. Link hesitated for a little longer this time before he answered, reservations rising up to tighten his chest.

Maybe. Zelda should be okay. But Honey Nut might be reluctant.

Both of them were silent for a little while, Impa gathering her courage and Link trying to discourage her silently, watching Zelda bounce on her toes with unwarranted intensity. Impa was still looking at him.

Is he scared? Impa asked at last, and Link looked at her sharply, startled by her acuity. He nodded.

The first thing he asked me was how long he had, he admitted, somewhat stiffly. He's worried he's going to be eleven like the hero of time.

How old is he?

He's nine. Link leaned back and closed off his body language for several long moments, disliking the vulnerability creeping up out of him, but had to loosen up to continue. Nine's young. Neither he nor Zelda are doing a damn thing until they're older.

Impa nodded her agreement, face creased, and Link relaxed a little, exhaling softly, and leaned back in his chair again. His shoulder and ribs ached faintly.

The two of them were spared needing to converse any further when they were approached. The library was mostly, but not entirely empty, and those still present were kept at a distance by the quiet interference of several of the royal guards; Link saw Grace steal a few curious glances over to them, though she kept herself busy looking through books and setting some aside at a table.

Little Link came out from the near end of the library and skittered down the stairs and toward them. He didn't seem uncomfortable in the library itself – Honey guessed that he'd been here before – but he did come to a stop right by Honey's elbow and give Zelda a lingering, anxious look.

Honey hummed softly to catch little Link's attention, and then signed, I told her you like to forage. She's been interested in magical plants and animals lately, and she thought she could find some to tell you about. You should go ask.

Little Link's head started to turn, sparking with interest, before he snapped back to Honey. Aren't we supposed to be talking about Calamity Ganon and stuff? he asked guardedly, confirming Honey's suspicion.

Only a little, Honey said, deliberately light and trying to push down the start of guilt. It was his fault things were going into motion early, after all. There's plenty of time for you to talk about plants if you want. You like endura shrooms, don't you? Those are some of my favorites too. Zelda can probably tell you about them, if you're interested.

Little Link shuffled his feet uncomfortably, but then nodded and, with obvious reluctance, went to go join Zelda, who jumped, looking at him with wide startled eyes. Little Link signed something, short and stiff, and Zelda snatched up one of the books and started flipping through it. She looked, if anything, more nervous than before.

I see what you meant, Impa said, as soon as he was gone. Honey hummed. King Rhoam and his guards had settled not too far away, and Selwyn, obviously off-duty, was watching little Link with clear worry.

The two of them talked about plants for a while, then insects. Zelda showed little Link a few lizards as well, telling him about them, but little Link was still mostly just nodding along, curled into a defensive ball. Zelda was getting steadily more anxious and scattered as she tried to fix something that wasn't her fault, and Honey was just preparing to step in when Zelda, latching onto new topics one by one, pointed at the rose quartz hair spirals woven into the braids framing his face.

“Are those enchanted?” she blurted out. Little Link started a little, then reached up to touch one of them. He nodded. “I don't know the properties of rose quartz, what are they for?”

Little Link fiddled with the end of one for a minute before he answered, still uncomfortable. They kind of... make the world less noisy, I guess? I get upset around crowds or strangers. Mom said I should bring them today because of. Everything.

“Oh,” Zelda said quietly, and then, “They're very pretty.”

Little Link smiled a little and reached up to bat at one. He nodded. I like them. I wear them a lot for long trips out. He stared at Zelda for a long, lingering moment, and then ventured, We could try and find something that tells us about different gemstone enchantments.

It was a clear peace offering, and Zelda brightened instantly, nodding so hard Honey thought she'd dislodge her crown.

Honey relaxed, smiling faintly.

Eventually, the four of them were directed to the observatory. Honey assumed that they'd been waiting to be sure that little Link and Zelda were getting along, which he appreciated. Both of them seemed to have relaxed a little; even if neither one was completely comfortable, they'd at least shed the suffocating tension that they'd started out with.

With that out of the way, Honey tried not to fret over the idea that all four of the champions were waiting for them in the next room. He'd been expecting to meet them slowly, one by one over weeks or months. And yes, technically, he'd already met Revali and Mipha, but Revali had been as himself, not as the hero, and they'd never been all together before. Honey wasn't sure how to conduct himself at all, and it was making him stressed.

Honey, little Link, and Impa all entered just after Zelda and the king, so of course all of the champions were looking up. Honey winced, turning his head aside, and little Link immediately skittered right past to look out off the balcony, tucking himself right up against the railing despite the pouring rain. Impa went to stand by the wall, stiff and uncomfortable again.

Honey swept his gaze wearily over the table.

There was Mipha, giving him a shy smile, seated straight and steady, and he quirked a small smile back. Daruk was right by the head of the table, clearly curious and his eyes sharper than Honey had expected, and Urbosa was already holding a hand out to Zelda, inviting the girl to sit with her with a soft smile.

Revali was looking at Honey like he'd never seen him before, which was patently untrue.

Honey sat down just a little away from Mipha, stifled an inconvenient yawn, and looked at Rhoam. Am I supposed to be doing something? he asked bluntly.

Rhoam visibly repressed the urge to sigh, and then addressed the champions. “This is the older form of Link, the chosen knight of this generation. The younger-” He nodded at the balcony. Little Link was still curled up defensively, head tilted to just barely catch sight of the table inside. “-bears the mark of his destiny but not yet his sword. You should expect to interact primarily with the older, but the younger will be present as well, as will my daughter.”

Zelda squirmed, looking kind of like she wanted to join little Link outside. Urbosa set an arm around her shoulders, letting the girl lean into her, protective and affectionate.

Urbosa looked at Honey first, long and assessing. “I'm told you've been a bearer of bad news so far,” she said.

Honey reached up, rubbed his shoulder, and hummed noncommittally. He nodded. It was the truth, after all. A thought sparked in his head, and he swept his gaze over the table again, then picked up his slate, took out three more bottled fairies, and pushed them across to each champion in turn.

Hold onto those, he said. He rubbed his cheek, grimacing a little, and then continued, Once you have your divine beasts you should keep some potions and supplies in there, but the fairies will do for now. Yawn. He wondered absently if he'd taken too much lavender, but then his abdomen throbbed faintly and he wrinkled his nose. I don't know your magical tolerances though. I'd like to go straight for dragonscale elixirs, but I'm worried they'll be too caustic. Maybe one of those each and some lynel hooves.

He looked up when no one seemed to reply, and registered that he must have done something wrong; Daruk looked grim, Mipha worried, Revali's brow was furrowed, and Urbosa's expression was simply... strange, with Zelda's forehead tucked against her. He cocked his head.

“I don't think I believed it until now,” Daruk admitted freely, but he was looking Honey up and down thoughtfully. “You're a small scrap of a thing, for a figure of legend.” He grinned at Honey. “What's the plan, little guy?”

Honey cocked his head, a little confused, but eventually said, For you four? Priority one is to not die in your divine beasts. Everything else follows from that.

“Priority one is to aid you and Zelda,” Urbosa countered. Honey sparked with irritation, set his elbows on the table, and leaned forward.

To not die in your divine beasts, Honey repeated forcefully. You four fall, and Zelda and I are alone.

Zelda flinched, huddling a little closer to Urbosa, and Honey relaxed, exhaling regretfully.

“Excuse me,” Revali interrupted icily, “was I ever going to be informed that our little Hylian champion is a nestling?”

“This nestling once beat six members of the royal guard with nothing but a lizalfos spear,” Rhoam said.

“I don't care if he beat Din herself in a fair fight,” Revali snapped. “It's humiliating to place the full weight of five kingdoms on the shoulders of a child, on the basis of a fairytale, and I will have no part of it. Do none of you see anything wrong with this picture? If he didn't have that ever so special sword on his back, he wouldn't even debut on the battlefield for years, and he wouldn't make royal guard for a decade.”

Goddess Hylia, Honey had been hoping to avoid this nonsense. He clicked his tongue irritably, drawing Revali's attention.

I woke up from a hundred years of sleep with no memories and debilitating injuries, he signed. I picked up a tree branch and from there I dragged myself together until I was able to go to every divine beast, get inside, defeat the fragments of Calamity Ganon that killed every single one of you, and then go into the castle itself and fight the Calamity. It took me a year and I did it all alone. If you can find one, just one other person who can do that, then I'll go to them and ask for their help myself, but until then, we're going to work with what we damn well have.

He caught a flash of inner conflict and genuine pain flicker across Revali's face, and then it was gone again. “Sword first, bow second, and everything else third, you said?” he murmured. Honey hummed, rubbing his cheek.

I thought if I could earn your respect before we reached this- He waved his hand at the room. I could sidestep all of the derisive comments. Apparently not.

“Of course not,” Revali scoffed. “You have not done a damn thing wrong here. All of the adults who put you in this position, however...”

Honey blinked, startled. What do you mean?

Revali gestured at him silently, and Rhoam cut across him, clearly irritated.

“Do you think that I am any happier about it than you, Revali? In this time, Link is a year younger than my daughter, and the Calamity puts both of them in unspeakable danger. It becomes more abundantly clear every day how they are all affected by it.”

“You put both of them in unspeakable danger,” Revali countered, and Rhoam nearly rose to his feet.

Lightning struck outside, and Honey leaned heavily on the table, feeling the ache crawl across his skin, sapping his energy a little at a time. Mipha gave him a small, sympathetic smile, and he shrugged back, quirking his mouth up without meaning to. I'm sure eventually we'll get around to something productive, he signed to her, and she giggled.

“If we could get back on task?” Urbosa suggested with deceptive mildness.

“I'm not done,” Revali snapped.

“He clearly is,” Urbosa said, and waved at Honey. Revali clicked his beak unhappily, but Urbosa just nodded and looked at Honey, thumbing over Zelda's shoulder. “I've been given to believe that you have some information for us. Perhaps about the divine beasts or these... guardians.”

Honey nodded, relieved. Guardians, then divine beasts, he signed, and navigated through his tablet until he pulled up an image of a guardian stalker, which he passed around. Each of them looked at it. He was rather proud of the picture; he'd taken it from high up on Central Tower, capturing one of the many stalkers that paced Hyrule Field. It was angled just right to see its glowing eye, but hadn't spotted him. Impa inched forward to look, and after only a moment of hesitation, Honey angled it to let her see.

Fighting a guardian, you can either get it in its eye and destroy its core, or you can do it rough and messy and tear through its shell until you break enough internal components that it dies, Honey said, and then looked at Revali. I'll introduce you to Robbie and Purah. Guardian components are rare, so ancient weapons aren't going to be widespread, but you should have ready access to ancient arrows. Revali arched an eyebrow and gestured for him to elaborate. An ancient arrow in its eye will take a guardian down, but you only have five seconds to hit it before it fires, and guardians hit hard. Besides that, ancient arrows are precious enough that you really can't afford to waste them on a miss. It'll probably just be you and me with those arrows. Honey considered. Unless you have another recommendation. I trust your judgement.

“I was given to believe that guardians were going to be our allies,” Revali commented, glancing sidelong at Rhoam. Urbosa and Daruk were looking wary as well. Rhoam sighed.

“That is the intention,” he agreed. “However, Link has informed us that it is possible for the Calamity to corrupt them, so it is important that you be aware of how to destroy them as well. He considers it a priority.”

“Hm,” Revali said, dubious, and then to Honey, “There are very few marksmen of comparable skill, but I'll take it under consideration.”

Honey nodded, relieved, and then tapped through his slate again until he had the old map of Vah Ruta up. He passed the slate to Mipha, who looked at it curiously. He leaned forward and started to explain.

Over the next hour, he introduced each champion to their divine beasts, and then secured an agreement to go looking for them in their respective territories – Urbosa first, then Daruk, then Revali, whose agreement was only grudging. Zelda listened quietly, and little Link eventually crept in from outside and then up onto a rafter, watching from above.

By the time Link was done, the lavender was beginning to wear off, and the ache was sinking into his bones again, like his muscles were trying to pull away from them. But everyone was looking pleased and thoughtful and even eager, and it had him smiling despite himself.

“And this little guy?” Daruk asked unexpectedly, and he looked up at little Link, who froze and drew himself away sharply, balanced precariously on a high support beam.

Don't look at me, little Link ordered childishly, eyes wide and anxious. I'm just listening so I know what's happening.

“Essentially correct,” Rhoam agreed. “The little ones are inherently involved in the fight against the Calamity, so it is only right for them to be well aware of the goings-on. But neither of them will grow into their roles for years yet.” He nodded at Honey. “He will be showing them how to access the shrine under the castle after we are finished here. You may accompany them if you are curious.”

Honey pursed his lips, because Rhoam hadn't mentioned that, but he didn't argue.

No one enters the shrine except me and Honey Nut, he said.

Chapter Text

It was strange to be doing this with people watching. The shrine under the castle was one of the few places virtually untouched by time. It was a little busier, certainly, and there were no monsters, but the cavern with the shrine itself was the same, and spacious enough to contain everyone who had wanted to come – far too many, in Honey's opinion.

“There's nothing here,” Urbosa noted with more detached interest than accusation. Honey hummed, and then beckoned little Link forward. Little Link padded forward, reservations still clear on his face, head low.

Honey crouched down in front of him, hiding his wince at the awful throb of his knees and his ribs; the hinox-bruise ache was back.

It's alright, he soothed, as reassuring as he could be. This is a shrine. You can do these as quickly or as slowly as you want. He tapped the back of little Link's hand, the one with the triforce mark. This is Hylia's promise that this power is yours. I'm going to take you inside this first one so you know what it's like, and then you can put the rest off for years if you want.

Little Link took a deep breath, straightened up, and nodded firmly. Honey smiled at him, rose to his feet again, and took two torches from his slate. He handed one to little Link, and then went to light his from one of the standing torches at the dock. At his gesture, little Link went to light his from the other.

Honey went to the large beacon next, nodded at his younger self, and then set his torch against the pile of wood. Only a split second later, little Link did the same, brow furrowed in concentration.

The beacon caught fire. With a harsh flick, Honey extinguished his torch and tossed it aside. It took little Link a few more tries, but he managed to blow it out, and just as he did, the ground started to rumble.

Honey turned, giving the shrine a small smile as it rose. He felt an inordinate fondness for the sight. It was always such a triumph to raise and complete even a single shrine, and after the ordeal of getting into the castle, even a major test of strength hadn't fazed him.

“That beacon has been lit many times before,” King Rhoam frowned, pacing closer to examine it. “It is used to guide ships into the docks. It has never summoned a shrine.”

Honey hummed dismissively. There are a couple like that. Sheikah orbs don't work for anyone else either, even if they go right in their switches. And I somehow doubt that anyone else could access the shrines in the Lomei Labyrinths. It's fine. Saas Ko'sah, the monk of this shrine, is watching. They know who lit the beacon.

Honey moved forward, starting to go through the familiar motions of activating the shrine, and then paused. He looked at Rhoam.

If you give the slate to Honey Nut, he can begin working on them, he said. Rhoam frowned at him.

“Is it necessary to hand over the device to your counterpart's custody?” he asked, with some heavy doubt in his voice.

Honey blinked. When he mulled it over, he supposed there wasn't, and he grew very uncomfortable very quickly. In fact, it had even been implied that Zelda had been the primary user of the device before the Calamity. Abruptly self-conscious, he stepped away and shrugged stiffly, reaching up to rub his shoulder before he answered. I'm not a fair judge of that.

“Link talks with his!” Zelda piped up, and then immediately flushed and hopped back a little as everyone looked at her. But of course, she rallied quickly, looking up at her father with clear determination. “You should let our Link use it. I think big Link just wants him to have it because it helps him so much.”

King Rhoam raised an eyebrow and looked at Honey. “Is this true?”

Honey nodded uncomfortably, and took a few moments to tap through his slate and choose a phrase.

“I can speak with my Sheikah slate. It takes some time to choose all of my words, but I can communicate effectively.”

Little Link's eyes went wide, and he stole a quick glance at Zelda, obviously recognizing her voice despite the subtle differences. Even with just that one phrase, there was a hint of longing in his face when he returned his gaze to the slate.

“An adaptive device,” Urbosa said thoughtfully. “That's quite clever.” She looked at Rhoam and said, without even a moment's hesitation, “Unless it has other strategic uses you haven't mentioned, I don't see why he shouldn't have it. Between the speech aid and the shrines, it sounds like he'll have more need of it than anyone else.”

To Honey's surprise, no one voiced objections, not even Revali. Impa even nodded, stopping herself quickly with a flush. Some of the tension eased out of Honey's shoulders, and little Link crooned in delight, bouncing on his heels.

Without further objection, Rhoam gave the slate to little Link, who took it with great care. He looked at Honey, who nodded at the shrine, and little Link scuttled forward, spent a few minutes looking around, and then, gingerly, set the slate on the key.

The shrine's door unwove, opening up for him, and some of the orange lights turned blue. Little Link made a soft sound of wonder.

Honey gave him a small smile and a nod, and then waved to the shrine again.

The two of them stepped inside, one of little Link's hands holding onto Honey's, and they flickered away.

Little Link's hand slipped away from Honey's before they stopped, but he didn't have time to panic; he looked to his right, through a sheet of glass, and there was little Link, wide-eyed and confused, looking back. Frowning, Honey looked ahead again.

It wasn't the shrine he remembered, the major test of strength. Saas Ko'sah's voice echoed in his ears with the same language, but the setup was different – two long halls, split by a glass dividing wall, and a chest in front of each of them.

Honey knelt in front of the chest and opened it, hearing little Link do the same on his side. Inside was a vial of lavender, about two units by Honey's estimate. Honey looked up. Little Link held a lightweight steel sword, most likely a soldier's broadsword, and he was looking back at Honey uncertainly.

Honey looked ahead again, and then at little Link.

We can go back if you want, he signed gently. I didn't intend for you to complete this shrine anyway, since I remember it as a difficult one. But it looks like it's set up for the circumstances. I think you could finish it now if you wanted.

That would be consistent with what Honey himself had long suspected: that the monks adapted their shrines to suit the circumstances. It would explain why circumstances outside the monk's control could result in a blessing, and why all of the objects too heavy for his injured body to push or lift were made of metal, and why so many of the shrines in rainy regions were less physically taxing- and it would explain this.

Little Link hesitated, looked down at his sword, and then back up at Honey. He straightened up, and then he nodded.

Honey smiled at him and took the lavender. It likely wouldn't kick in before they finished the shrine, but it would soften the punishment afterward. He rose to his feet.

Ready? he asked the younger, and the younger nodded, eyes sharp with focus now. Honey smiled at him, and then walked forward.

The doors shut behind them, and Honey whistled reassuringly when little Link jumped. A two-armed scout rose out of the ground in front of Honey, just Honey, and whirred to life. Honey's heart didn't even skip a beat, and he brought his sword to bear against it. He parried its axe, cut into its shell, stepped aside, and ducked its next blow, an easy and familiar dance.

Little Link was watching closely, so Honey tried his best to model the movements clearly. The scout's heavy blows sent pain shooting down from his shoulder every time he parried, but the unlit shaft of the axe was as easy to catch as normal, and his sword flashed and sang with irritation.

In only a few minutes, the scout was down, twitching and sparking, and he turned to look at little Link. After only a moment of eye contact, little Link seemed to understand, and he was already bringing up his sword when the one-armed scout rose out of the ground.

In a rough but skilled imitation of Honey's technique and attack pattern, little Link went after the scout. It took almost twice as long, but he beat it without a scratch, panting heavily, eyes wide. He whirled to face Honey, and Honey gave him a nod and a small, proud smile. Little Link grinned back.

They went through three sections like that, not a word passing between them, and little Link performed like a dream. The first section's scout had had a blade, the second a shield to get past, and the third used a beam that little Link was able to deflect with his sword, right back at the scout. He was a quick and intuitive learner, which was good, because about the best Honey could do to teach him was to play with the scouts a little before he destroyed them, wincing at the extra strain.

At the end of little Link's hall was a chest, and then after the chest, Saas Ko'sah. Honey chuckled, pleased, and then sat down and slumped against the wall with a quiet groan of pain.

He still smiled when little Link opened the chest, found a beautiful forest dweller's bow, and beamed.

The shrine is complete, but you can still go inside, Honey informed the king, while little Link excitedly showed Zelda his now faintly glowing hand. It looks like it adapted so that Honey Nut could complete it with my help. The others probably will too. Otherwise, this one can be used as a safe place in an emergency, as long as you have the slate.

Perhaps you could accompany him to some of the others now after all, King Rhoam suggested contemplatively.

No, Honey said, too quickly. King Rhoam frowned, and Honey amended, not bothering to soften his grimace. No, sorry, I... I think I'm done with today. I want to lay down. I'm tired.

“Yes, that would be the lavender,” Revali said cuttingly. Daruk grunted in surprise.

No, it's the fucking throbbing fucking pain all over my body, Honey snapped harshly, and then, at Revali's startled look, took a deep breath and let it out. Sorry. I wasn't expecting to fight today, and it's. Raining. Sorry.

He reached up to rub his face, willing the second dose to kick in faster. He could feel his pulse in most of his torso, tight and hot.

“Very well,” Rhoam said, a little quieter. “You're dismissed. The champions should be here for several weeks at least.”

Honey nodded absently and turned to walk stiffly away, ignoring the voices starting up behind him. He still paused when he heard a single pair of footsteps coming up the passage after him, and looked over his shoulder. He managed a weary smile when he saw that it was Mipha, looking worried.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, as soon as he was looking at her.

Link started to shake his head, and then paused. Nico had done something at Zora's Domain, and it hadn't fixed it, but it had... it had felt nice. I'm not injured, he said stiltedly.

“Not all pain is from injuries,” Mipha said resolutely. Link exhaled.

It's just scar tissue, he admitted. But Nico used some healing magic when he looked at me. It helped.

“Where?” Mipha asked, and Link considered for a moment, taking stock of himself, and then decided on a lower spot than usual – his lower ribs instead of the front of his shoulder, where the pain was usually worst; some of the maneuvers he'd used against the scouts had strained that zone a little more than usual. Mipha placed her hand there, and it started to glow. Link relaxed a little, blinked down lazily, and-

(Link remembered-)

(He had pulled something during training, a hot and throbbing pain in his back. He'd wanted to deal with it on his own, steaming at the failed maneuver that had gotten him hurt in the first place, but Mipha had insisted on healing him.)

(She'd held him very close, and he'd relaxed slowly, her cooling magic sinking into his muscles and soothing them. He'd apologized for making the mistake in the first place.)

(“Don't be silly,” Mipha had said, with a smile he could hear in her voice. “Everyone makes mistakes, Link. Even you.”)

“Link, do you need to go to the infirmary?” Mipha asked anxiously, bringing him back to himself. Link tilted his head back and shook his head, giving her a warm, tired smile.

I'm alright, he assured her. Just need to turn in early today. He exhaled, leaning back against the wall. When had they sat down? Sorry I wasn't paying much attention to you earlier. We'd already met, so I wasn't worried. I didn't mean to ignore you.

Mipha squeezed his hand when he was done. “It's okay, I understand. You seemed very drowsy even then. Lavender? Your injuries must be very bad.”

Link hummed agreement, which seemed to surprise her. Don't worry. I'm used to it. Is it really okay for you to stay here this long? Your family must be worried.

“It's only a couple of weeks,” Mipha assured him. “Can you stand? We should get you back to your room.”

Link nodded, and Mipha helped him to his feet. He immediately winced as the throb spiked, catching himself on the wall; his head spun, and it took several seconds for his vision to clear again, the spots fading away. Mipha was hovering when he focused again, steadying hands on him, and he gave her an apologetic look and pushed off the wall.

You don't have to come with me, he said after a while.

“I worry,” she said immediately, and then, flustered, “Of, of course, if you would prefer that I didn't-!”

Link had to smile a little, slowly unwinding as the second dose started working to muffle the wavering aches, tugging them away from his perception and coaxing him back into drowsiness. It felt a little stronger than the first despite the lighter dosage, since the first hadn't completely left his system yet, and it was a relief. It's fine. I didn't want to trouble you.

“Nonsense,” Mipha said, cheeks still slightly flushed despite her businesslike tone. “It would be unnecessarily difficult for you to get back on your own, it will be much easier if I help you get settled. You should eat before you go to sleep – something with honey, perhaps, to help your metabolism along-”

She rambled a little, nervous and flustered, while he listened, warm and fond. It took a while for her to realize what she was doing, and then she fell silent, letting them just go through the halls, Link nudging her when there was a turn he had to direct her through.

Mipha opened the door for him, and he grunted when he finally flopped onto the bed, expression twisting a little on impact. Mipha hovered until he relaxed again, exhaling softly, and then rolled over and took a bowl of glazed vegetables out; it was all he felt he could stomach at the moment. On second thought, he took out another bowl for Mipha and pushed it over to her, smiling at her faint wonder when she found it still warm.

He ate for a little while, and then, feeling a little better, lifted his head to look up at Mipha.

What did you think of the others? he asked curiously. Mipha hummed, delicately nibbling at a glazed carrot with her razor-sharp teeth.

Daruk seemed very easy to get along with, she signed at last. Link was pleased to see she remembered the sign name he'd been using for Daruk when he told her about them. It seemed to me that he wanted to help, nothing more – I think perhaps he is even relieved to be able to take action against the Calamity himself. I suppose it makes sense. Volcanic activity is one of the warning signs, isn't it?

Link nodded tiredly, cradling his head in the crook of one arm to watch her. His skin still felt overwound and painful, taking its sweet and grudging time backing off from the outer edge of strain.

Urbosa... certainly does give off an admirable air of authority, Mipha mused. I cannot quite remember precisely how long she has been chief of the Gerudo, but it must have been some time now. And she seemed quite protective of Princess Zelda – I do believe she was friends with her mother. Did you notice how closely she was watching Zelda react to your words? Link shook his head. She was – I think she might have been making sure she didn't become distressed.

Link smiled faintly. That would make sense, and it was probably a good idea. He hoped he hadn't missed anything important from little Link's reactions. Mipha took the smile as encouragement, perking up a little.

And Revali seemed quite... well, he was rather impolite, wasn't he? But I think he cares. They all seem like very good people. You chose well, I think. Mipha smiled warmly at Link, and Link hummed and nodded. Then he pushed himself to his elbows, pleased to find that it was much easier than he'd expected.

I didn't choose, he corrected softly. I don't know who did. Zelda, maybe, or Rhoam. He exhaled and dropped back down. The impact was soft, and the pull of sleep threatened to bowl him over. Feels better now. Thanks.

Good, Mipha said softly. ...Your younger self reminds me of Sidon, I think. Sidon likes to flit around out of sight as well.

Link smiled lazily. It's more comfortable that way. Not as busy. I'm sorry I didn't speak to your brother before.

It's alright, there's always next time, Mipha reassured Link. Will you introduce me to Robbie and Purah as well? I'm very curious.

Link furrowed his brow, and Mipha started to go to apologize, but Link shook his head absently.

I can do that, he said. Maybe when I talk to them about Revali. I... they're good people. You'll like them, and I think they have a working model of an ancient spear already. You can use one of those.

I'll make sure to train with it as often as I can, Mipha promised him, and then, hesitantly, Are you... ready to go to sleep now?

Link yawned and nodded, starting the slow and vaguely annoying process of squirming under the covers. Yeah. Thanks for keeping me company. I'll come look for you tomorrow and maybe we can walk around?

He gave her a lazy smile, and she all but beamed back.

He went to sleep with a small, pleased smile.

Chapter Text

“I want to spar,” Urbosa said to Link, as soon as they ran into each other in the training field. “First blood.”

Link blinked at her and tilted his head, but nodded easily enough. He was less sure about Urbosa's character than Revali's – he knew she cared about Zelda, and that she was rather thoughtful, but that wasn't much of a picture. (Of course, his picture of Revali had been rather inaccurate, so perhaps it was for the best.)

He settled himself across from Urbosa and drew a royal broadsword, the one he'd used to spar with the guards so many weeks before. In answer, she drew her scimitar and her shield, and then gave him the smallest of nods. Link grabbed his own shield and braced himself. Urbosa lunged.

Like Revali, it was a tougher fight than Link had expected. The curved shape of Urbosa's sword wasn't something he was used to working against, and he nearly lost fingers a couple of times when a parry sent her blade skidding up his. Once he narrowly avoided a cut to his arm when the same happened with his shield. She was also fast, and clever with the way she used her bright shield to distract from the rapid slashes of her scimitar. He had to keep his guard up to prevent her from slipping through, and several times turned on a dime to slam his shield into Urbosa's feinting sword.

Unfortunately for Urbosa, this was a challenge of short swords and shields, and that was Link's preferred weapon. His skill was unmatched.

Link struck first blood in the end. Urbosa slipped up, letting one of his harsh shield parries throw her guard wide, and Link swung his sword and scored a thin cut across her stomach, slightly deeper than he'd intended; he'd stepped in to take the blow from her own shield on his shoulder instead of his sword.

As soon as he'd done that, though, both of them stepped apart, and Urbosa looked down to examine the cut on her stomach.

“Impressive,” she conceded at last, giving him a nod. “I see King Rhoam's claims were not exaggerated.”

She invited him along with a wave, and curiously, he put away his sword and shield and followed her. She didn't go far, only sat on the rim of a fountain in the yard. He sat next to her, dipping his fingers curiously in the cool water, and glanced up when she started to speak again.

I'm told you asked for me by name, Urbosa said, studying him thoughtfully. Did you know me well?

Link shrugged, then shook his head.

If I did once, I don't anymore, he said bluntly. I have... maybe a handful of memories of you in this time, three or four, and I met your spirit once. He shrugged again. You seemed kind, and I knew you would want to help Zelda. And the Gerudo revered your skill in battle long after you were gone. I didn't see any reason to ask for another.

Even though I fell before I could be of use to you or to Zelda, Urbosa said, her lips subtly pursed. Link hummed.

You were caught by surprise, he said. None of us expected the Calamity to attack you from within your beasts. You had... two swords, two shields, and a little bit of food. Plenty for a Yiga ambush, but not for a fight against the Thunderblight. Link frowned, tilting his head a little. For me, the Thunderblight was the trickiest fight. But it's weak to its own lightning. It will likely be weak to yours as well.

Likely? Urbosa questioned. Link sighed.

You're right, he conceded. I'll make sure you have my slate when we expect the attack. That was what I used against it.

Urbosa was quiet for a minute. She towered over him even seated; Link was small for a Hylian, and Urbosa large for a Gerudo. He had to tilt his head back to look at her. Her expression was oddly pensive, a small frown on her mouth.

You've put a lot of thought into this, she said.

I got a second chance. I don't want to waste it. He tilted his head, considering her for a moment. Thank you for helping convince the king to give Honey Nut the slate. I'd... forgotten it wasn't mine the same way my sword is.

Urbosa softened and nodded. It seemed the proper thing to do. Goodness knows you've given enough to the fight to have earned some back.

Link looked away, cheeks coloring. Urbosa, to his surprise, chuckled and reached out to clasp his shoulder briefly.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, “for everything you are doing to help us.”

Link blinked at her, startled, and then ducked his head, reached up, and pretended not to be scrubbing tears out of his eyes.

Link knocked sharply on the door before he pushed into the royal lab, and swept his gaze carefully over it before he came in. The door to the testing grounds was shut. A large table now sat in the open space, prototypes of ancient weapons scattered across it. Robbie was tinkering with what appeared to be the morningstar model. Purah was nowhere in sight, but Link could hear the awful stomp-and-grind of a mobile guardian outside. The map had a new arrangement of pins on it.

“Have you satisfied yourself that there are no Yiga inside yet?” Revali sniped at him, and shoved him pointedly. Link elbowed him back and went inside, where Robbie was already looking up.

“Link, I wasn't expecting- who's this?” Robbie cut himself off, squinting at the two people who had come in after Link. Link looked away, keeping his eyes on the back wall.

“I'm Mipha,” she introduced herself, looking around the lab curiously. “Once we find Vah Ruta, I'll be her pilot.”

“I'm informed that I am owed access to a particular kind of arrow,” Revali said, and Link rolled his eyes. “Is that not what you implied? It must have gotten lost amid all of the horrible news, bad omens, and dead children.”

...That's not funny, Link said after a moment, stiffly.

“No, it's not,” Revali agreed nonsensically. Link clicked his tongue, irritated and confused, and looked down at his slate to start tapping.

“Oh, put that away,” Robbie muttered. Link bristled, and a moment later, Mipha tightened her lips. Seemingly oblivious and still tinkering away, Robbie continued, “Purah and I have been putting some effort into learning sign, since it appears we'll be working with the Hylian court for some time.”

Link tipped his head, blinking in surprise, and let his stiff posture soften a little. He is a marksman, he signed, carefully simple. I want him to have ancient arrows. Unrestricted access.

Robbie nodded along until the end, then pursed his lips and signed back, Unrestricted access?

“He said unlimited access, for the love of Nayru,” Revali snapped, surprising Link again. “Haven't you been working here for over a month? Don't tell me you've had a dearth of opportunities for practice.”

“We're rather busy trying to accelerate technological breakthroughs centuries beyond our time, thank you,” Robbie sniped back, and then, to Link and without waiting for a reply, “That can be arranged, but supply is still quite limited. We can provide perhaps four in total at the moment, until more materials have been excavated.”

Link bit his cheek nervously, and then nodded. Give them to Revali. I have some.

“Peacock?” Revali demanded, outraged. “Peacock? You insolent little coxcomb!”

Link brought a hand to his mouth to hide a giggle. He'd remembered Revali's sign name so long ago that he'd forgotten Revali didn't know it himself. He almost wanted to take a picture of his face.

...Huh. He would have to do that soon, take pictures of his friends and his family.

“Oh,” Mipha said, quietly and with wonder. “Do you have one for me as well?”

Link's cheeks flushed pink, and he nodded. He cupped his hands, like he was cradling a baby bird. Gentle.

Mipha's cheeks turned pink too, and he had to smile. He looked back at Robbie, considering him for a moment, and then said, You should know Revali, so he can ask for arrows. Mipha wanted to meet you. She uses a spear. She likes to help and learn.

“Is that so,” Robbie mumbled, and then beckoned them over to demonstrate what he was doing, the flickering operability of the morningstar and the quivering power output. He went to get an ancient bow and arrow, showed Revali how the devices worked, and then walked him through operating them himself. Revali grunted.

“This draw weight is absurd,” he muttered.

“It's mainly for Link,” Robbie said dismissively. “Apparently his draw tends to break bows excessively quickly.”

“Hm,” Revali said, and gave the bow back but kept the arrows.

“May I see the guardians?” Mipha asked earnestly. Link started, heart skipping a beat. “I've heard plenty about them, but I confess I haven't seen any myself yet. I think it will be good to know what we're fighting alongside.”

“I confess I'm curious as well,” Revali agreed, though he looked noticeably more skeptical. Link bounced unhappily on his heels.

Robbie, of course, was delighted to abandon his work and show them the guardians. Link would have preferred to bolt back to the castle, but he followed them out, setting his slate's quiver to ancient arrows without looking down. One swipe across the screen in just the right way, and Link would have an ancient arrow in his hand, and the guardian would be dead before it could fire.

“Oh, goodness,” Mipha said, as soon as she realized Link was coming. “I didn't mean you had to come, Link, I promise I don't mind.”

Link grunted uncomfortably, because he hadn't thought she'd intended that, but now that she mentioned it, he really, really did not want to go. He hesitated, then looked at Robbie.

Three? he asked. Robbie crossed his arms, glanced away, and nodded. Link counted out three ancient arrows, held them out to Revali, and waited for him to take them with a heavy frown before he backed away. The grind of a moving guardian got briefly louder as the door opened, and then it shut and the sound was muffled again.

Link climbed into the rafters and hid in the upper loft, a little window balcony without any proper access points. He curled up, leaned against the wall, and watched the door. His heartbeat thudded in his ears, and he set his cheek against his forearm and thought of Satori Mountain.

When it opened, he jumped a mile, heart racing. But all that came through was Purah, looking intensely uncomfortable.

“Hey, Linky baby,” she said, trying for light and missing by a mile. “How ya doing?”

Purah hated small talk. Rarely even bothered with greetings or lead-ups before she launched right into the topic of interest. Link sidled up closer to the railing and looked down through the posts, under the banister, without responding.

Purah cleared her throat. “You seemed kinda upset last time you came by.”

Link pushed himself away again.

“Wait!” Link crossed his arms and didn't move back out. Purah was... mostly undeterred. “Robbie and I fucked up, okay? We shouldn't have gone behind your back, and we definitely shouldn't have let you get surprised like that. That's on us, and- and I didn't mean to scare you and I'm really sorry. I was- we were excited about the old Sheikah tech and King Rhoam said it was fine as long as we paced it and made the ancient weapons too.”

Despite himself, Link deflated, and after a moment he pushed himself back to the railing. When he looked down, Purah was fidgeting with her sleeves, but still looking determinedly back up at him.

You used me, Link said, because he thought he might have understood if they'd done it on their own, the same way he understood that they would take him back to the shrine of resurrection no matter what he wanted. But then they'd tricked him into helping them.

Purah crossed, uncrossed, recrossed her arms, obviously anxious. “You know more about ancient tech than anyone right now,” she said defensively, and then winced. “Okay, yeah, I know. I thought... we thought it was to help you.”

Link set his forehead against a post and closed his eyes.

In a lot of ways, it had been so much easier when he was working alone.

“Is there something you want?” Purah asked, voice raising a little and words coming fast. “You really like Sheikah tech, right? You usually get excited about it, and you like the stuff Robbie and I make and everything. I could make you something.”

The desperation in her voice made Link sick, and damn it, there was something he wanted.

Why do you care so much? he asked.

“I dunno,” Purah mumbled, shoulders hunching in discomfort. “People don't like Robbie and I that often.”

Link exhaled, letting his gaze linger on Purah for a few more painfully silent minutes.

He hadn't picked up his slate once the whole conversation. He hadn't even been at a particularly good angle for her to see. Purah had learned sign, and pretty well too. Like his Robbie and Purah had for him.

Link pulled himself up with a wince and a wobble, and then clasped the banister, hopped carefully over, and dropped down, bending his knees to absorb the impact. He walked up to Purah, a couple feet between them, and looked at her for a while.

Can you copy the communication rune onto the other Sheikah slate? he asked.

Purah blinked at him, startled, and then relief flooded her face. “Yeah! Yeah, definitely. Just need to work on both of them with the guidance stone for a bit, no problem. For little baby Link, right? Yeah.”

Link nodded silently, the line of his shoulders softening a little, and that was that.

With all of the other champions spoken to in private, Link figured he'd seek out Daruk all on his own, and that was what he did. He found Daruk working in the training grounds, tapped him on the elbow, and asked, Do you want to come share a meal?

Daruk chuckled, giving him a look that was almost soft, and signed back, Sure. Why not?

So they went to the dining hall. Most of the food was Hylian, but there were a good number of rock roasts as well, and Daruk grabbed a couple of those before they settled in one of the corners of the room. Link stirred his soup for a minute, looking at Daruk thoughtfully, and then asked, Your shield, is it an inherited ability?

Daruk looked briefly surprised, and he opened his mouth to respond, changed his mind and started to sign, realized his hands were full and chuckled at himself before he finally spoke aloud. “Sure is. How'd you know?”

Your descendant had it too, Link explained. Great-grandson, I think. I wasn't sure if it was inborn magic or a family secret.

“Never had much time for learnin' magic,” Daruk dismissed. Link tilted his head, considering him.

What do you do? he asked. I just realized I don't know.

Daruk laughed, so loud and booming that it echoed in the dining hall. No one batted an eye. “I'm the Goron chief right now. Zora think I'm crazy for comin' out here myself, but...” He nudged Link, only just hard enough to bump him over. “Anything for our oldest friend, I say.”

Link didn't miss the singular, and despite the heat creeping across his cheeks, he had to smile.

“So tell me about this descendant,” Daruk added cheerfully. “I’ve got one kid right now, Igneous, so we’re looking at his grandson, right?”

Link hummed. He wasn’t certain, but he thought that sounded right. Y-u-n-o-b-o, pebble roast, he explained, and smiled when Daruk laughed again. He’s pretty timid, but a really good friend, and he’s brave when it counts. The Goron chief of the time was looking after him, I don’t know why. Last I heard from him he was looking after the tot deposits, but he was looking to apprentice under an artisan too. I think he was planning on learning how to build cannons and stuff, or maybe Goron enchantments.

Smart boy, Daruk signed back, reorienting himself after he dusted off his hands. Link realized with a start that he’d forgotten his own meal, and took a bite before turning back to Daruk. Were you good friends?

Link nodded without hesitation. Yunobo’s very sweet, and he helped me to recapture Vah Rudania. Daruk mirrored the sign. V-a-h R-u-d-a-n-i-a, your divine beast. She was crawling around the mountain scaring people and throwing off lava rocks, so Yunobo and Boss would go pretty regularly to drive her off. But Yunobo helped me to get close enough to board her.

How’d you end up retaking her? Daruk asked, and he looked genuinely interested.

I showed you the beast map and all the terminals, right? Link asked. Daruk nodded. Under the Calamity’s control it had malice swamp and tainted scouts in it, but most of the functions were still in place, as far as I know. So I went around, activated all the terminals, and… He shrugged. When I went to activate the last one, the fireblight appeared – the shard of the Calamity that attacked you. Vah Rudania was the second beast I recaptured, so I was ready for it. And when I destroyed it… He hesitated, suddenly uncomfortable, but finally finished, Your spirit appeared.

Instead of equally uncomfortable, Daruk just looked thoughtful. Yeah? What’d I do?

Link cast his mind back, unintentionally losing focus.

It felt, in its own way, like the only time he had truly met Daruk until now. His memories, real as they were, were unmoored, ties to a life before the one he lived now. But Daruk clearly hadn’t felt that way. Daruk had been so pleased to see him – proud, even, like Link was a young friend he’d watched grow to maturity. Link thought that if he could have, he might have hugged Link then.

“Little guy?” Daruk asked, a little softer. Link started.

You gave me your blessing, he said at last, belatedly, and tapped his own chest. Your gift, Daruk’s Protection – you let me use it.

Good, Daruk said, without hesitation. But he was still studying Link, looking oddly solemn. …You know, I don’t think I’ve asked. With your amnesia, this must feel like a mighty strange place with mighty strange people. Be honest, how much do you really know us?

Link tensed a little, uncertain of Daruk’s intent.

Not very much, he conceded readily. I know we could be friends. As far as I remember, you always seemed to like me, though I think you knew Zelda better. But we got along. You weren’t surprised when I came to take Rudania.

Daruk grunted thoughtfully, and then grinned at him.

Well, let’s fix that, he said cheerfully. King Rhoam said you wanted to visit the springs at the maw. Let’s make a trip of it, all five of us.

That was the last thing Link had expected. He clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a snort, smiled through his fingers, and nodded.

Chapter Text

Casting his mind back, Link was surprised it had taken this long to find time to work in the alchemy lab, but he supposed he had been rather busy, and it hadn’t been much of a priority.

It was hard to work and talk at the same time though.

I started experimenting with different monster parts after I recaptured the first divine beast, he explained, setting his supplies across the table that had been cleared for him in between phrases. It wasn’t much; he hadn’t had time for a lot of monster hunting, but he did have the femur he’d taken from the lynel. It was kind of a close call, me going against the Waterblight. I wasn’t really ready for it, and none of my potions held up very well. I didn’t even have my sword back yet.

He exhaled, a little frustrated by the mere memory, and then took his hunting knife and stabbed it into the lynel bone. It was an old Sheikah make; it sank in halfway up the blade. Zelda squeaked.

“I thought the specific monster part didn’t matter much in potion making,” Catrain said, frowning down at the cauldron Link had taken. Link started to answer, and then jumped when Eloise got there first.

“Not exactly! Monster parts definitely have different concentrations and magical properties, but unfortunately, most parts that have defined enough properties to boost a particular enchantment are too strong to safely consume, and chu jelly perpetuates magic more than it dilutes it. We’re working on it.” Eloise paused, flushed, and gave Link a vaguely apologetic look, and her voice was a little more tentative when she tacked on, “Does that… not happen to you?”

The corners of Link’s mouth quirked up, and before he answered, he leveraged the femur open. The crack of bone shot through the lab like the clash of swords, and several people jumped.

Not exactly, he said, and hummed absentminded gratitude when Impa helped him pry the two halves apart. He wiped his hands off before he continued. They still make me a little sick, but it’s mild enough that the trade-off is usually worth it. Lizalfos hide makes it hard for me to catch my breath for the next few days, but if I need to, say, sneak into the Yiga hideout…

Eloise looked ill, and Link trailed off, confused. Eloise didn’t speak up, though, and soon enough Zelda drew his attention, peeking over with wide eyes.

“What are you doing with that?” she asked. Link smiled at her, and then turned away and started working.

With a metal spoon, he scraped the marrow out from the center of the large femur and glopped it onto the wooden table. It was vividly black, more so than the blood of a malice-infected monster, but it still stained his fingers dark red. When he had as much as he was going to get, he divided it into four roughly even portions, set the spoon down, and turned to Zelda, hands still stained red.

I’m going to take each of these and make a different elixir with them, he explained. If they have no special properties, or a property other than what I’m using, they should have a pretty normal effect for this kind of elixir, maybe on par with a lynel hoof. But if they do have the right properties, then that elixir should come out extra strong. I’m testing strength, defense, health, and endurance, because those are kind of what lynels are known for; they aren’t elemental beasts.

Zelda’s eyes sparkled with fascination, and he gave her a small smile and tossed first one of the lumps of marrow into the pot, then a few blobs of chu jelly to fill it out, and then a couple of hearty lizards.

“You’re not going to test these all at once, are you?” Eloise asked severely. Link had to suppress an odd urge to roll his eyes.

No, I’m just brewing them, he dismissed. I’ll test them when I can afford to be sick, or better, when I need that kind of potion anyway. He winked at Zelda. No better time to discover a new boost than right when you need it most.

Zelda giggled, and then lapsed into thoughtfulness as she watched the cauldron. “…Is this like you discovering what you can eat?”

Link hummed, surprised. Yeah, kind of, he said, deliberately ignoring the matching confused looks that Eloise and Impa were giving him. I mean, that definitely made this easier, because I was already used to trying things based on my best guess by then. But I was better adjusted too. I never tried to swallow talus gravel by itself.

Impa looked green. “I don’t know how you put these things in your mouth.”

Link gave her a blank look. No one stepped in to clarify.

He shrugged and leaned back, letting the elixir brew; that was the most time-consuming part anyway. I just do?

Impa opened her mouth. Eloise cut her off hastily.

“You should share your notes with the lab at some point,” she said. “If we know what effects we’re after anyway, we can try and work on diluting them. Make them safe for you and usable for other people.”

Link started. He remembered that coming up at some point, but he’d completely forgotten; he hadn’t even finished putting them to paper. Okay. Sure.

“What was your training like?” Impa asked, fascinated. Link stiffened a little, hesitating, and she pressed, seemingly earnest, “I mean, I’ve done a lot of everything myself, but not like this.”

Link stared at her for a moment, and then shrugged uncomfortably. He looked at Zelda, and then at Catrain, but both of them seemed just as curious. He looked at Eloise, who just raised an eyebrow. He exhaled.

There was a shrine by Kakariko that reminded me of a lot of my most useful maneuvers, he said haltingly. How to parry with a shield or time a good dodge. But I kept a lot of muscle memory too. I don’t really remember most of my training in this time, but I know Dad was pretty exacting. He nudged the ground with one foot, contemplative. Most of the rest I just picked up while I was exploring Hyrule. I’d talk to people and one would tell me how to make a fireproof elixir, another would tell me what foods were best for climbing a cold mountain…

He clicked his tongue a couple of times, and then rolled his shoulders. He wasn’t sure they’d get this part, really; most people didn’t. Even his Zelda had been confused almost as often as not, when he tried to explain.

I wouldn’t have picked up as much if I hadn’t woken up so injured. Those first couple months, I kind of had to make the most of everything I had, because I sure as hell couldn’t rely on my body, or on any experience. And even once I recovered, I kept most of those habits. Got into the habit of preparing as much as I could.

He fell still, watching the elixir start to simmer. He didn’t really like thinking about those first few foggy months of his adventure. To call them a struggle would be very, very kind.

It had gotten better, though. A lot better.

“Have you grown your own plants before?” Catrain asked, startling Link into looking up. Link shook his head. “You should visit the greenhouses. I believe you’d like it.”

Link thought about that for a moment, and then gave her a small smile and a nod. He thought he would like it, too.

For a while they were quiet again, and Link stirred the pot a few times, feeling almost contented for the moment. Eloise was scribbling something down, and Zelda was looking over his shoulder.

“Your training sounds harder than mine,” Zelda said, very quietly. “All I do is pray.”

There was too much self-loathing in her voice for such a little girl. Link reached out and briefly combed his fingers through her hair, smoothing it down, drawing her attention before he answered.

My training suited me well, he said plainly. And I got to pace myself as I liked. You haven’t gotten either of those things. Link paused. Besides, you shouldn’t aspire to the training I did. That was an emergency. It shouldn’t have happened that way. I… He faltered, but under Zelda’s gaze, he made himself finish, I shouldn’t have been alone.

It was getting easier to believe, though he still wasn’t sure if it made him feel better or worse.

“Wasn’t there anything you did with help?” Impa asked, and she sounded concerned.

Despite himself, Link smiled a little and nodded.

I needed help to board all of the divine beasts, he signed. And there was a Rito, K-a-s-s, who had learned all of the songs of the hero to help. A lot of those contained hints for finding shrines.

“Vito knows the songs of the hero,” Eloise said, surprise coloring her voice. “Vito, um, Sera’s father.”

Link smiled a little and nodded. He remembered her asking the man about that.

Kass said he learned from his teacher. I think that might have been Vito. When Honey Nut starts looking for shrines, he should ask Vito to play the songs for him.

Link looked down, and then hastily took the ladle and scooped out the finished hearty potion into a bottle, then held it up to the light. It seemed darker than normal, but that could have just as easily been the marrow as any char. He tossed the next set of ingredients into the pot, paving the way for a mighty elixir.

“I’ll speak to Vito,” Catrain said unexpectedly. Link shot her an inquisitive look, and she hummed. “I’m familiar with him – he’s the royal family’s bard, inasmuch as they have one at all. If what you say is true, that would certainly explain it. But plenty of songs are lost and found over time. You should check if he knows them all.”

Link clicked his tongue and nodded thoughtfully, then picked up the ladle and stirred the elixir.

He wondered if Vito was anything like his student.

I didn’t know you were religious, Honey said to Grace, nudging Hush down the right path with a gentle tug of the reins. Grace waved her hands aimlessly, reins twisted around the saddle horn of her own grey mare.

Nothing like you and Dad are, she dismissed with a smile, and then a sheepish shrug. She nudged little Link where he was leaning too far out behind her, and he returned reluctantly to his place, hands twisted into her skirts. But I’ve never been to the sage temple before, and I have a good feeling about it. Anyway, I wanted to spend more time with you. You’re gone too often.

Sorry, Honey said.

You don’t mean that, Grace countered, eyes glittering with amusement.

I don’t, he admitted, and laughed as soon as she did. I visited the sage temple when I did my lap around Hyrule a couple weeks ago. It’s amazing. If it were closer I’d visit it more often.

Why? little Link asked suddenly, fixing his gaze curiously on Honey. Honey hummed, tilting his head as he thought about it. He supposed it made sense that little Link was too young to be very interested in faith.

Finally, he set the reins in his lap and replied. It’s soothing. Getting in touch with the goddesses makes me feel less alone. Safer, too. You sleep in Mom and Dad’s room-

He stopped, wondering when he’d stopped using namesigns for Selwyn and Eileen, but little Link was still looking at him. Grace too, curious and thoughtful. He continued.

You sleep in Mom and Dad’s room sometimes, right? he prompted. He didn’t remember, but he’d certainly seen Koko and Cottla curl up with Dorian enough times. Little Link glanced away, flushing pink, and shrugged. Honey took that as a yes. It makes you feel safe just to be close to them, because you know they can handle anything you can’t. It’s like that. If I’m close to the goddesses, then nothing can hurt me.

But that’s not true, little Link said, and set his cheek against Grace’s back.

…No, it’s not, Honey agreed, and very carefully didn’t say that it wasn’t true with Selwyn and Eileen either. But it’s good not to be so afraid.

That’s funny, Grace said, drawing Honey’s attention back to her. She smiled at him. Dad didn’t become really devout until after he joined the royal guard. I didn’t think anything of it, but it makes sense now. That was right after…

Honey wondered for a moment where she was going with that, and then asked, The lynel?

Yeah, Grace confirmed, smile fading. I mean, the first one.

Honey blinked, startled. The first one?

Yeah, Grace repeated. Little Link tucked his face against her back, determinedly not watching the conversation anymore. There was a blue-mane when he was just a knight, and he was the only survivor of that attack. But then it happened again when he was in the royal guard. A white-mane and two reds wiped out the whole six-member junior squad except Dad. He was already battlesick, but that really messed him up.

Hooves, Honey remembered. Selwyn had implied he was terrified of the sound of hooves.

It would, Honey agreed grimly. Attacks like that, coming from every side? Honey didn’t have any particular dread of lynels, but he’d never had to face more than one at a time either.

The conversation was brought to a halt when they reached Zalta Wa’s shrine, tucked into the Breach of Demise just where Honey remembered. Honey tugged on Hush’s reins sharply to stop him, and then dismounted. Little Link followed a moment later, and then Grace.

So this is a shrine? Grace asked, walking over to run her fingers over the carvings. After a moment, she looked up for Honey’s answer, and Honey nodded.

Are you sure you don’t mind waiting here? he asked. This is very close to Castle Town. Honey Nut and I could go another time.

It’s fine, Grace dismissed. I’ll set up lunch while you’re working, it’ll be fun.

Honey gave her a small grin, and she grinned back, and then looked at little Link.

You’re going to do great, she said unflinchingly, and then smiled. It’s puzzles and problem-solving, isn’t it? That’s your favorite thing in the world.

Little Link relaxed a little and nodded determinedly, and without waiting to be prompted, he went for the shrine’s activation pedestal, grabbed his Sheikah slate out of his little pack, and set it into place. With a comforting hum, the shrine lit up, and the entrance opened.

Honey, then little Link waved to Grace, and Honey took little Link’s hand, and both of them went inside.

Honey was prepared this time for little Link’s hand to slide out of his, but it didn’t happen. They both landed on the usual platform, the shrine and its puzzle stretching out in front of them.

It was an orb puzzle, as Honey remembered, but very different otherwise. He itched to solve it, but held himself back and nudged little Link forward instead. When little Link looked up, Honey signed encouragingly, This is your trial.

After a long, lingering stare, little Link nodded firmly and darted forward to explore the area.

As Honey watched little Link explore and experiment, it became clear that it was another puzzle meant to be solved by two people. The start of two staircases was the foundation of the room, and there were paths between them, plus a number of sockets. There were jumps that Honey knew he could make but suspected his younger self couldn’t, and switches that looked like they could take little Link’s weight but not his.

Eventually, little Link turned and waved him forward, eyes bright with enthusiasm, and started to direct Honey through the puzzle. Honey followed his instructions to the letter, even doing things he knew weren’t right, and little Link seemed to lose himself in focus, pacing back and forth to try different things.

When the gate to the monk opened, little Link shouted out loud in delight, and then ran up the last few steps to go and greet them. He accepted the spirit orb with a bright smile and a few enthusiastic grunts, and bounced in place a couple times before he finally returned down the stairs.

They left the shrine together, and Honey was still smiling indulgently at his younger self when he felt his blood chill.

It wasn’t immediately clear why. There was a traveler sitting with Grace, a few feet away from where she’d set up for lunch, a basket and a blanket and a ball of yarn resting by her knee while she worked away at what looked like a shawl. The traveler was quietly eating an apple, apparently content to sit in silence. Grace seemed comfortable.

Then Honey realized that the traveler was a Yiga in disguise. He recognized it from the way the man held himself, the whipcord tension poised to strike. The man was no more relaxed than Honey himself was.

The traveler looked up and met his eyes, but before either of them could do anything else, little Link, oblivious, darted forward and plopped himself beside Grace, eyes bright, and started to tell her all about the puzzle in the shrine. Honey didn’t move, nor did he look away from the traveler, nor did the traveler look away from him.

“Food!” little Link chirped, missing the tension entirely. Honey looked at him, and the Yiga traveler didn’t move.

Honey sat on the blanket. After a moment of consideration, he also set his sword by his knee, well within easy reach. The traveler gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement. Grace gave the traveler one of the bottles of veggie cream soup with a cheerful smile. The traveler accepted it with a nod.

He doesn’t know sign, but he seemed interested in the shrine, Grace explained to Honey, clearly curious about his unwavering attention and oblivious to the traveler’s sinister motives. The more the merrier, right? I didn’t think you’d mind.

Honey hummed reluctantly, and then mentally chided himself and looked back at Grace. He considered explaining. The Yiga would never know. But instead he kept his sword within reach and just said, It’s fine. We brought extra.

Grace beamed at him, and Honey’s attention was drawn to her necklace – the one with the star fragment trapped in a tiny little cage, pretty and glittering.

Chapter Text

Little Link borrowed Honey’s Sheikah slate to talk to the disguised Yiga, and he was eagerly explaining the puzzle inside the shrine, one part with the slate and two parts by drawing lines into the dirt. By all appearances, the Yiga was actually following along, which just made Honey more apprehensive.

“That is an interesting use of Sheikah technology,” the Yiga said after a while, nodding at the slate. “Are you unable to speak?”

“Speak!” little Link chirped back, and then shrugged, smiling bashfully. It tugged at the back of Honey’s mind; he’d been meaning to ask about little Link’s voice, but it had never quite been the right time.

“Hm,” the Yiga said, and then tapped a part of little Link’s messy diagram. “This monk, are they a Sheikah?”

Little Link hummed, and then shrugged and signed, Dead, old. When the Yiga clearly did not understand even that much, he sifted through the Sheikah slate’s dictionary and had it repeat his words.

“Too old to tell?” the Yiga asked, and little Link nodded. “Hm.”

He said ‘hm’ a lot. Honey wondered warily what he was thinking.

“Why ask shrine,” little Link tapped out, slow and deliberate. Grace signaled abruptly, and both little Link and Honey looked at her. She met Honey’s eyes, and little Link returned his attention to the Yiga and the slate.

Why are you looking at him like that? Grace asked Honey, a small frown tugging at her lips. Have you met him before?

Honey couldn’t help but glance at the Yiga again, mistrustful. His hand wandered briefly to his sword before he replied. Not exactly. You could say I know his family. I won’t go for my blade if he doesn’t go for his.

“I have connections with the Sheikah,” the Yiga explained to little Link. “I am… very interested in where their history intertwines with that of Hylian legend.”

Little Link drew back sharply, tucking his hands against his chest; he couldn’t have been more obviously uncomfortable with the topic if he’d announced it aloud. Without thinking, Honey swiped the slate back and tapped out a warning, sharp and impatient.

“Do not speak legends with them,” he warned, about two minutes after he’d have liked to say it. Then, decisively, he pushed the slate back to little Link, and set his hand back on the hilt of his sword, not bothering to hide his hostility.

The disguised Yiga’s eyebrows rose, and he shifted in place as if to stand.

“You’re familiar with my family,” he said, and Honey nodded curtly.

Grace reached forward to tap Honey’s hand, and Honey forced his shoulders to relax and looked at her. Her worry was becoming more obvious. It didn’t sit right on her face.

What’s happening? Grace asked him.

He mentioned Hylian legend and it made Honey Nut uncomfortable, he explained, considered for a moment longer, and then expanded, His family has connections with the Sheikah, and all of this tech comes from them, so he’s… curious.

Why don’t you like him?

Honey tried to come up with an explanation that didn’t involve disguised travelers trying to gut him. His family is often hostile to Hylians.

Oh. Should I not have invited him to eat with us? Grace looked crestfallen. Honey sighed, shoulders falling a little as his hackles dropped.

He didn’t quite understand why he’d let it go even this long. But. Honey usually trusted his instincts. They hadn’t failed him yet.

He seems… fine. It’s fine. He transferred his gaze back to the other two, who were, oddly enough, still talking. Little Link was explaining their goal for the day, and as Honey watched, the Yiga said,

“I have never entered a Hylian temple before. I must admit I am curious. Might I accompany you on your journey there?”

Honey didn’t bother biting down a growl, which made both little Link and the Yiga look at him. He scowled at the man.

Little Link, seemingly oblivious, hummed in affirmation. “What name?” he asked.

“Mine?” the traveler asked. Little Link nodded. “Sooga.”

So they ended up with an unwanted companion on their journey, who seemed perfectly content to walk when Honey staunchly refused to allow him on his horse; it was too easy to imagine the man reaching around and slicing into his gut with one of the Yiga clan’s signature curved blades. Little Link still seemed very curious, and he’d started to pelt Sooga with questions: how old Sheikah civilization was, if he could find any books by them, what he knew about them.

“Are you an academic, little Hylian?” Sooga asked. Little Link shook his head decisively, sticking his tongue between his teeth as he tried to answer, learning the interface of the slate.

“Like thought thinking books,” he said at last, frowning in displeasure at his own answer. Honey exhaled – it would have been a laugh if he weren’t so tense – and gestured for Grace to steer her horse closer, then held his hand out for the slate. He angled it for little Link to see and navigated to a new part of the interface, where he carefully spelled out philosophy. When he pressed ‘play’, the word came out garbled but understandable, and he handed the slate back to little Link. Little Link flashed him a smile, and then, experimentally, tried, “Sheikah philosophy find.”

He’s asking Hostile if there are Sheikah philosophy books, Honey explained to Grace, who clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

That’s not very nice, Grace managed. Honey flicked his fingers dismissively.

Then Sooga started talking.

He didn’t have any book recommendations for little Link, but he had a lot to say, and little Link was listening, wide-eyed and attentive as he leaned against Grace’s back, watching the Yiga. Honey was starting to have to remind himself that this man was a Yiga.

“There are two schools of Sheikah culture,” Sooga explained, without ever changing his even pace, easily keeping up with the horses. “Sheikah civilization stretches back thousands of years; it existed before modern Hyrule. When demons ruled the land and everything was ruin, Hylians were sent to the sky, and the Sheikah were kept here on the earth.”

Honey hadn’t heard this story before.

“I consider this analogous to the status of the Sheikah throughout history,” Sooga continued, unflinching in his focus. “It’s dressed up quite prettily, but the Sheikah have always been a subordinate class to Hylians. It is Hyrule that is both the hero and the maiden of Hylian legend. Though we have the same stories, and traditional Sheikah worship the same goddess, it is Hylians that bear the mother’s name.”

Grace gestured, and Sooga stopped, looking up at the same time as Honey. Honey met her eyes, considered for a moment, and then started signing, relaying Sooga’s explanation the best he could.

“Hm?” Sooga asked, irritated.

“Brother, tell, sister, speech,” little Link said, slow and careful. Sooga’s illusory face smoothed out; Honey was reluctant to say it softened, but it looked like it did.

“Very well. Shall I speak slower?” Little Link shook his head. “Hm. Traditional Sheikah philosophy is very strict, in deference to their religious role as the servants of the goddess and of the Hylian royal family. At its core, it is the belief that destiny is a goal to be pursued unrelentingly, and any distraction from that destiny is folly. A deliberate deviation from ‘destiny’ is a personal betrayal of the goddess herself.”

Almost against his will, Honey took that and matched it to the Sheikah he knew: to Impa’s unwavering devotion to Zelda, and Dorian’s dedication to his duty as Impa’s guard, and even Pikango’s pursuit of his art, chasing down landscapes through sunshine and foul weather.

“My particular branch of Sheikah,” Sooga continued. Honey stiffened, and only grudgingly continued to translate when Grace cocked her head, concerned. “Is not so much a variation on Sheikah philosophy as a rebellion against it. We recognize our history and reject its perpetuation. In that light, family matters above all else. Second to that, self-respect and gratification. The pursuit of happiness should not be an affront to anyone, but the rejection of it is a betrayal of the self – that includes pride in one’s own creations.”

He seemed to come back to himself after that, and Honey thought he perhaps did not get the chance very often to share these thoughts with others. Sooga straightened up and looked over to meet little Link’s eyes.

“Did that satisfy your curiosity?” he asked.

Little Link set his temple against Grace’s back and hummed thoughtfully, fists twisted loosely into her dress. Honey could almost see him placing these new schools of thought in among the others, with no particular significance given to any of them except in relation to each other. Eventually, little Link nodded, but then immediately reached down for the slate.

“Do Sheikah believe in kindness,” he asked, after a lot of fiddling. Something flashed across Sooga’s face.

“Sheikah believe in loyalty,” he said at last, very even.

“Do Sheikah believe in kindness,” little Link repeated.

“…No.”

Honey and Sooga had a staring contest with each other just outside the Sage Temple.

“If you were not going to allow me entrance, why did you let me accompany you at all?” Sooga asked him, sounding, of all things, amused.

Honey let him in.

Little Link had eventually returned the Sheikah slate to Honey, and it was on his hip as he went inside. Grace and little Link were in the center triangle, speaking to the Rito priest, who little Link was translating for, a little clumsily. As Honey watched, though, Grace curtsied lightly and went to the northern triangle, with the fireplace and the candles. Little Link went to the west and dipped his hand in the running stream, wetting his fingers.

Honey went to the eastern triangle, plants in long lines of soil and earth patted down firm, but he didn’t try immediately to meditate. Instead, he kept an eye on Sooga.

Sooga followed him to the eastern section.

“Since I indulged your younger brother’s curiosity,” he said, very quietly, and there was no hiding the trace of contempt that developed in his voice. “I think it is only fair that you indulge mine. You are not as I expected, hero of the goddess. Tell me. How does a messiah view Hylian thought?”

Honey tilted his head, considering him. It was an understandable mistake, and much better that the Yiga believe that Honey was the only hero instead of his younger self. He nodded, took out the slate, and started to work, slow and thoughtful. When he was done, instead of playing, he turned it around so that Sooga could see what he had written.

Courage to try. Wisdom to improve. Power to succeed. These things change the world. They make happiness. Without happiness the world is worth nothing.

“Whose happiness?” Sooga prompted, eyes unreadable.

Happiness, Honey repeated, annoyed.

“This isn’t much, to what I gave your brother,” Sooga said.

Honey pushed his palms against his forehead, frustrated, and then lowered them and scowled at Sooga. Then, pride stung, he picked the Sheikah slate back up and tried again.

Hylia is the divine mother. She does the things that a mother does. She comforts us when we are upset. She protects us when we’re scared. She listens when we talk to her. She fixes things when they are too big for us to fix.

We are Hylia’s children. We do the things that children do. We love her. We give her silly small gifts. Handmade found food pretty. Like children. We try to make her proud. We do things in the way she likes. Make happiness. Help strangers. Explore learn grow. She values power wisdom courage. So I do too.

Farore Din Nayru are above Hylia. They are not our mother. They are not grandmother. They are distant. But they built the world. They made the rules. They are respected not loved not feared.

I know this is stiff. My mind does not make words well. If you complain again I will move to Grace and Link.

Honey knew when Sooga had reached the end, because he snorted and sat back, oddly contemplative. Honey had to remind himself again that this was a Yiga.

“But by what right do you declare yourself eternally children?” Sooga asked after a while, with no small challenge in his voice. His arms were crossed. “Absolving yourself of wrongdoing and failure should not be that simple.”

It’s not about absolution you ass, Honey typed, hesitated, and then continued more slowly, one careful word at a time, It’s about gentle. No one is ever done growing. No one is ever independent from Hylia. To her we are all children. Forgive yourself forgive others for mistakes. Forgive yourself forgive others for failure. Learn and grow.

“That is so far from either form of Sheikah belief as to be nearly incomprehensible,” Sooga said bluntly. Honey shrugged. Not his problem. “This is truly the extent of your belief? It is naivety in fancy words.”

The world is harsh, Honey typed carefully, and tried not to wonder how he’d gotten here, discussing religion with a Yiga. Faith is gentle. You go to faith when the world hurts. So faith should not hurt. Faith should help you through the hurt.

“I know your legends,” Sooga said. “You have never been a figure of mercy in them.”

Honey smiled. He was glad Sooga knew that much.

Courage to try, he typed. Wisdom to improve. Power to succeed. My goal is to protect others. This is my own and Hylia’s also. I do not hesitate. But I come home to mother at the end of the day. And I know I made her proud.

Sooga shook his head slowly, not precisely a denial but definitely in incredulity.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “The sheer lengths to which Hylians will go to stay soft…”

Well, softness was something of a cultural value. The corner of Honey’s mouth twitched up, amused. Then he moved away, leaned against the wall, and played with the leaves of the potted plants along the edge. He wouldn’t be able to relax enough to meditate, not with a Yiga right there and little Link and Grace not far away, but he could touch and stroke the leaves.

He thought about the Sheikah. About Impa and Dorian and Paya.

He thought about Purah and Robbie.

When he looked up again, Sooga was gone. Honey shifted to kneel in the corner, breathed in the scent of soil and greenery, and meditated to the rustle of soft leaves in the breeze.

That had been… strange.

Unsurprisingly, little Link was the first to get sick and tired of the quiet and the stillness, and soon after he started to run around and climb on things, exploring the rooms, Grace got up to usher him off a rafter. Honey got up only a few minutes later, nodding to the Rito priest and then getting the others’ attention to leave.

Where did Hostile go? Grace asked Honey. Honey shrugged.

Had family matters to attend to, I assume, he said dryly, though what family matters the Yiga had aside from killing him, he wasn’t entirely sure. Come on. We need to head out if we’re going to make it home by dinner.

It was almost an hour before it occurred to him to wonder at how easily the thought had come.

“The Hylians have found their hero,” Sooga informed Kohga, dropping to one knee in front of him. His mouth twitched as Kohga startled hard enough to fall off his seat, clearly having been nearly asleep until Sooga’s arrival.

Kohga shook himself and took several minutes to refocus, muttering under his breath before he abruptly asked, “What is he like? As much of a blind attack dog as we always thought?”

Sooga remained quiet for several moments, long enough for Kohga to brush himself off and sit back down, cross his legs and uncross them, start to tap his feet impatiently.

In truth, the encounter with Hyrule’s figure of legend had left Sooga profoundly unsettled. He had expected several things of the Hylian hero: entitlement, arrogance, a certain degree of standoffish distraction. He had not expected two thoughtful siblings and enough leniency to stand by and allow Sooga to preach thinly veiled Yiga sentiment.

“He’s aware of us and our goals,” Sooga said at last, not letting any of his more treasonous thoughts pass his lips. “Though I was well disguised, he recognized my true nature within seconds of seeing me.”

“Huh,” Kohga grunted, not sounding that interested either way. “Well, that sure explains why Hyrule’s been so busy the last coupla weeks.”

Sooga nodded. It was more information than he had hoped for: a casual citizen such as his disguise made him out to be wouldn’t have been able to penetrate the castle, and he was certain that the cause of Hyrule’s activities wouldn’t have left those gates. Particularly now that he knew what it was.

“He any good in a fight?” Kohga asked, bringing Sooga back to himself.

“We did not fight,” Sooga said. “He had… siblings with him. A younger brother, selectively mute, and a sister around his own age, Deaf. Since communication was challenging, I did not learn very much about them. But I suspect their presence was the reason the hero did not move to attack.”

“Huh,” Kohga repeated thoughtfully. “And you? Why didn’t you?”

Why hadn’t he? Sooga himself wasn’t entirely certain. He had simply felt… not compelled, but disinclined to attack first. It was only meant to be a reconnaissance mission, after all, and he certainly hadn’t expected to encounter the hero himself, when they hadn’t yet even known he’d been found. But for that same reason, it would have been a near-perfect opportunity. Sooga had no little confidence in his ability to match the hero in combat.

“His younger brother was talkative, for a speech-impaired child,” Sooga said at last. “I took it as an opportunity to gather further information.”

“Good thinking,” Kohga said agreeably, throwing one leg up over the arm of his chair. “Sounds like we’re about ready to move into gear, eh? Eh? If the hero’s here, the Calamity can’t be far behind.”

“Most likely,” Sooga agreed quietly.

Chapter Text

The five champions set off toward Death Mountain on foot, taking a brisk but steady pace. There wasn’t a lot to gather along this path, but Link did pause to pick some mushrooms to snack on as they walked, content to stay quiet. Urbosa and Daruk seemed comfortable, and Mipha was in step beside him, fidgeting with her clothes. But Link thought Revali was feeling out of place; he was holding himself a distance away, and he was refusing to look at them.

After a moment of contemplation, Link cut toward him and offered him a mushroom. Revali eyed him.

“What am I supposed to do with a mushroom?” Revali asked, unfairly suspicious.

Link rolled his eyes and took a bite out of another. Revali scoffed and turned his head away. Link huffed and returned to his place beside Mipha, sharing them with her instead. Mipha giggled and accepted one, nibbling delicately at the edges for a few seconds before she bit into it. Link was unfairly charmed by this.

Eventually, Daruk cleared his throat and Link jumped.

“This is gonna be a mighty long trip if we don’t pass the time right,” he said with a grin. Link cocked his head, because he’d been enjoying the quiet just fine. Daruk didn’t seem to notice. “Urbosa! You have a family, don’t you?”

“You know I do,” Urbosa said, though she clearly wasn’t bothered. “I’ve got a younger sister, yes. She’ll be my successor as the Gerudo chief, or her children will. I’m not planning on having any.”

“Why ever not?” Mipha asked, surprised. Urbosa flicked her fingers dismissively.

“I’m not exactly a nurturing woman. I leave that to Callipe. I’ve got a tribe to run. I take it you feel differently, Miss Zora Princess?”

Mipha blushed and shrugged bashfully. “Oh, I don’t know. I really like the idea! But I haven’t decided if I’d want to do it alone, and I have my little brother to worry about.”

They shared information back and forth, slowly warming up to each other through the small talk. Revali and Link both kept themselves out of it, Revali still obviously uncomfortable and Link content to listen and snack.

“So Revali,” Daruk started after a while, and Revali cut him off briskly.

“Absolutely not. Bother the little Hylian if you want more idle conversation.”

Link snorted, but when Daruk turned his expectant look on him, he shrugged. It’s complicated. I guess... my parents and a little brother, and three sisters?

The thought was unfamiliar and clumsy on his fingers, his certainty wavering even as he answered, and he thought it brought the others back to earth as they were reminded of the situation.

“An actual little brother or your younger self?” Urbosa asked after a moment, looking at him contemplatively.

My younger self, Link admitted, uncomfortable. He has three older sisters, but in the current... situation, one of them is younger than me and another is about my age.

“That’s gotta be strange,” Daruk commented, grinning at him. Link didn’t smile back. “Age differences are a big part of sibling dynamics! I didn’t know you were the baby of your family, kid.”

Yeah. Link hadn’t either, really, until he’d come back here. He felt the atmosphere growing more uncomfortable the longer he failed to respond, but he just didn’t know how.

“It’s appropriate, since he’s still a fledgling as it is,” Revali sniped at last, crossing his arms. “What were your parents thinking?”

Link shrugged. They didn’t really have a lot of say in it?

“Hylians,” Revali spat, with unexpected venom. Link frowned at him, but Revali didn’t offer any elaboration, and eventually Link turned his head to sweep his gaze over the fields.

They were near Crenel Hills, he realized suddenly, and without thinking he turned toward it.

“Where are you going?” Revali demanded. Link slowed his pace, looked over his shoulder, and remembered uncomfortably that he was traveling with a group. He shuffled guiltily.

King Rhoam said he built a safehouse into Crenel Hills, he said after a moment. But I haven’t seen it yet, so I wanted to have a look.

Revali grumbled under his breath, but Urbosa shrugged and looked at Daruk. “It shouldn’t be much of a detour.”

“I’m curious myself,” Mipha said earnestly. Link brightened.

So they took a detour to Crenel Hills.

The safehouse wasn’t in plain sight, but it wasn’t hard for Link to find either; it had been built into one of the enormous hollowed-out stumps that characterized the area, and if Link hadn’t recognized it, he wouldn’t have known there was anything inside at all. Experimentally, he pushed on the spot where he remembered an opening, and it swung open like a lever, spinning vertically.

The ground was drier than Link remembered it being, and all of the wooden spines still there. A false roof had been put in, shielding the area from rain and disguising it as a full, solid stump. There were a few crates around the edges, and peeking inside one revealed food, salted meat and pickled vegetables and honey. Another was half-full of arrows. A weapons stand had two royal broadswords, a halberd, and a bow.

Link let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Cleverly hidden,” Urbosa remarked, examining the room appreciatively. “Did they tell you how to find it before we left?”

Link got to his feet and brushed himself off before he answered. Kind of. I knew it was in Crenel Hills. There’s one in the Breach of Demise too, and I looked in that one a couple days ago. It’s not as well-hidden, but it’s good.

Urbosa raised an eyebrow. “You found this with only an approximate location?”

I like puzzles, Link explained, and glanced at the door. There was a strong block to bar the door with, if he needed. A little more tension eased out of him, and finally satisfied, he pushed through the door again to head back out.

“So what was all that for?” Daruk asked, once they were on their way back to their original course. Link hummed.

I spook pretty easily these days, he explained, embarrassed, and I kind of panicked when I found out that Robbie and Purah had been waking guardians. We’d discussed the idea before, because one of the things that originally went wrong is that Zelda and I were fleeing nonstop for a few days, but I think Rhoam had them built now to... pacify me, more or less. And I do feel better knowing they’re there, so I suppose it worked.

“Yes, I also try to comfort children by giving them places to hide before they go into battle,” Revali said sardonically.

Link exhaled, and then turned on Revali with a scowl. Stop talking about me like I’m not here and I can’t make my own decisions, he snapped. I’m not an infant. I’m not a child. And you’re not helping.

Revali surveyed him for a long moment, expression unreadable, and then looked away with a scoff. He didn’t argue, though.

“I have a husband,” he said at last, unexpectedly and seemingly apropos of nothing. “Our chick hatched a few months ago.”

Daruk looked suddenly sympathetic. “Always worst when they’re too tiny to hold their heads up,” he said warmly, and patted Revali hard enough to make him stumble and squawk indignantly.

“Do you need to be getting back?” Mipha asked with concern, and Revali grunted.

“Not particularly,” he said. “Are we going on to the terrible mountain or not?”

“Hey, that’s my land you’re talking about,” Daruk complained playfully, and Revali scoffed.

“That’s your wasteland, you mean.”

“I’m afraid you’re thinking of mine,” Urbosa said, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Or perhaps yours?”

“Unlike some of us, I have no governance over my kingdom’s land,” Revali sniped. Link mentally ran through the list of champions and hummed in surprise.

I hadn’t realized that. You’re the only one that’s not an authority, aren’t you?

“I am an authority on bowmanship,” Revali snapped, but it was too late. Mipha had already melted into sympathy.

“Oh, no wonder you were feeling awkward,” she said. “The rest of us all know each other, but you’re quite isolated in this group, aren’t you? Your skills must be truly remarkable.”

Link couldn’t hide a slightly silly smile, affection blooming in his chest. Of course Mipha had been able to put it into terms that wouldn’t ruffle Revali’s feathers so badly.

He’s very good, he assured the others, and they fell into comparing skillsets with ease.

“Holy mother goddess,” Urbosa swore, jolting a little as if to rise out of the water.

Don’t you start, Link warned, and then slipped into the hot spring with a quiet, pleased sigh. It had been a long while since he’d gotten to visit the maw of Death Mountain.

He’d debated back and forth a bit on whether or not to keep his shirt on for this, but eventually he’d figured it would be best to get the whole messy conversation over with. He was kind of regretting that now; he wanted to enjoy his time in the spring, and he hated, hated showing people his scars. He sank in to his shoulders and closed his eyes.

“Stop trying to escape this conversation,” Revali snapped.

You look funny with wet feathers, Link said without opening his eyes.

“Yes, you’re very clever,” Revali said condescendingly, as if he didn’t in fact look hilarious and bedraggled. “What. Happened.”

Do you want the breakdown or the summary, Link asked tiredly. A hand on his shoulder made him jump harshly, and he looked over to see Mipha, so focused that she didn’t seem to notice their proximity.

“Nico mentioned this to me,” she murmured, tugging with surprising strength to get a better look at his shoulder. “He didn’t say it was you, of course, but...” She reached up to trace a line across the tightly bunched skin. “Yes, I think right there would do it. It shouldn’t be difficult at all to loosen this surgically.”

She looked up and seemed to only then realize how close together their faces were, and she let go with a squeak, face turning pink.

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “That was terribly presumptuous of me.”

Link smiled at her reassuringly, trying to ignore the heat in his own face, and rolled his shoulder once thoughtfully. It’s fine. I remember Nico mentioning that too. It would be nice to have better range of motion in that shoulder. He looked back at the others and, feeling oddly more relaxed than before, he explained, I took a lot of injuries when we lost the first fight against the Calamity, and most of them never healed properly. Sorry, I know it’s kind of upsetting to see.

“Not really the issue,” Urbosa said, eying him calculatingly. “But you said you got those during the first fight. So you must have won the second even so injured.”

Link nods, kicking his feet lightly in the water. Yeah. It pays dividends to be prepared. He suppressed the urge to yawn, the heat of the water sinking into his bones. I thought it would be better that you know, though. They really mess with me, and I can’t always compensate for it.

“I bet not,” Daruk said ruefully. “I’ve seen survivors of major cave-ins with fewer fatigue cracks than that.”

Link huffed a laugh. The dubious benefits of the shrine of resurrection, I guess, he said wryly. Can we talk about something else now? I told you what I needed to say.

“Brat,” Revali muttered, and then, “Why don’t you explain why your younger self felt the need to hide in the rafters like a house pigeon.”

Well, I think his best friend is a Rito chick, for one thing, Link said, relaxing into the subject change. I’m the same way though, so I don’t really know what you’re asking. High perches and hidden corners are just comfortable.

“More comfortable than, I don’t know, a chair?” Revali demanded. Link snickered quietly.

Yes, actually, by a lot, he said. I always feel like someone is going to touch me when I’m sitting in a chair.

“What the hell,” Revali said.

“Oh dear,” Mipha said, and then started giggling.

“No, I get it,” Urbosa said, though the corner of her mouth was twitching too. “You are clearly a jumpy sort. You don’t like to be touched?”

I mean, if I know it’s coming it’s fine, Link said thoughtfully. It’s a bad surprise though. And chairs are, I don’t know, exposed? Vulnerable? I just like to sit other places.

“Sidon also refuses to sit in chairs,” Mipha provided, eyes glittering with amusement. “I never really thought about why.”

Huh. Now that Link thought about it, he did often see Sidon avoiding the more casual touches from some of his admirers. He’d always assumed it was out of decorum. Neither do I, honestly. It doesn’t usually matter anyway. No chairs in the middle of the mountains.

“Excuse me?” Urbosa asked, raising one eyebrow.

Link blinked, surprised. Yeah, haven’t I mentioned that? Until I came here I was in the wilderness almost all the time. Mostly mountains, a lot of forests and plains. I didn’t usually stay long in the desert, I guess. Sandstorms.

“A wise choice,” Urbosa said, seemingly on automatic, but now she was frowning. “What were you doing in the wilderness?”

Link shrugged. Lots of things. Looking for shrines, foraging, exploring. I haven’t gotten a good chance to explore Hyrule in this time, but in my own I probably could’ve found you anything short of a fallen star within a day.

In fact, just the thought made Link itch to delve into a new region. Maybe Necluda. He hadn’t gotten to pass through there yet.

“A good skill to have, little guy,” Daruk said with a grin, leaning back against the stone shore. “I wish I had more time to explore Death Mountain, myself. Place has a lot of secrets, and most of them are tasty.”

Link snorted. Beg to differ.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Daruk said, with good humor.

Link reached back, picked up a couple of pebbles, and popped them into his mouth. Beg to differ, he repeated, but he realized after a moment that he was grinning anyway. Daruk laughed.

“Agree to disagree,” he tossed back. “You gonna spit those out?” Link opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, showing that he’d swallowed them. “Ha! You’re a funny little Hylian.”

“That’s disgusting,” Revali said. Link nodded, chuckling softly. “You’re a child, and I assure you I mean that in the most derogatory sense possible.”

Link snorted so hard he nearly took in water, and ended up sputtering and shaking his head to clear it before he replied. If it means you’re done patronizing me, I’ll take what I can get, he signed with unwarranted warmth.

The mood stayed light for the next hour or so while they enjoyed the spring. There were a few other people there, more as the evening progressed, and as Link in particular started to draw more attention, he became increasingly uncomfortable. Eventually he pulled himself out to go cover up, and the others seemed to take that as a cue to exit the spring as well, shaking off water and pulling back on any clothes they’d removed.

“Feeling better?” Mipha asked Link in an undertone, as he was tugging his tunic back into place. He gave her a small, appreciative smile and nodded. “Good, that’s good. A lot of old soldiers don’t take good care of themselves.”

It took a while for me to get used to, Link admitted. It’s pride. When so much of your life depends on the integrity of your body, it’s hard to accept that it’s been compromised.

Mipha nodded solemnly, tucking and folding her draping sashes artfully over her. “Muzu, my tutor, is of that mindset, I think,” she said quietly. “He’s never forgiven himself for it either.”

Link winced at the implication. Are you close?

Mipha nodded, and then took a few steps closer. With her hands free, she signed, Will you be coming back to Zora’s Domain soon? You can meet him, and my little brother. We could explore again.

Color dusted across Link’s cheeks, and he smiled at her. I know a few places. Maybe I can go back with you when we’re done at the castle.

I’d like that, she signed back, and then leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

Without thinking, Link turned his head to catch her mouth, and Mipha squeaked in surprise. Then she shifted to get a better angle, and her mouth opened slightly. Feeling daring, Link tilted his head, and his tongue darted in and out, testing the sharp points of her teeth. When they split apart, both of them were flushed, and Link grinned at her.

I’d like that too, he said.

Urbosa whistled at that point, startling both of them, and Link looked up to see her smirking in amusement.

“Break it up, you two, we’ve got places to be,” Urbosa reminded them. Mipha sputtered in embarrassment, and Link smiled sheepishly before heading down the trail.

You still look funny with wet feathers, he told Revali as he caught up. He heard Mipha suppress a giggle.

“Brat,” Revali said grumpily, and swatted Link over the back of the head while he snickered.

Mipha caught up to Link only a few seconds later, and without a word she reached out and tapped Link’s hand shyly. Link felt his heartbeat speed up and his cheeks warm, but without hesitation he laced their fingers together, humming happily at the rough texture of her scaled skin.

They wouldn’t be able to make it all the way back to the castle that day, so as the sun dipped below the horizon, they went to Goponga Village instead, where Mipha spoke to the innkeeper with fond familiarity. It wasn’t until they were all settled in that Link laid down, stared at the ceiling, and realized there was no way he would be able to sleep.

He got back up and left the inn.

There was a small stone goddess statue on the eastern side of the village. It only took Link about half an hour to find, and once he did he knelt in front of it. The ground was sodden, and it soaked into the knees of his trousers. The moon above him was a fat crescent.

He took a breath, and then let it out.

Dear mother Hylia, goddess of love and light, please let me speak my worries, my grief, and my hopes.

I had a good day today. I think it was the happiest I’ve been since Zelda died. And I feel really bad about it. I have Mipha and Urbosa and Daruk and Revali back, and we’re becoming friends again. I’m getting to know all the places that the Calamity destroyed. I have... I have my family. I have everything back.

Zelda missed her past so much. She missed the champions, and her father, and the beautiful towns that fill Hyrule in this time. She was so angry about it. She wanted them back so badly. It doesn’t feel fair that I’m here and she isn’t. It doesn’t feel fair that I’m here at all.

I don’t know how to feel about this, mother. I know that Zelda wanted me to be happy. It was the last thing she ever said to me. But this... she wasn’t thinking of this. She couldn’t have known. Neither of us did.

Mother, why didn’t you send her here instead?

No, dammit, he was spiraling. He reached up and scrubbed his face with mud-smeared hands for a minute before he set them on his knees again, exhaling heavily.

Sorry. I do like it here. I like my family. I like the champions. I like having a second chance. But I miss Zelda, and I’m sad she isn’t here to enjoy this with me. We fought so much about whether it was better to remember or to have forgotten what we both lost. It hurts more now that I know what she was thinking of.

He took a deep breath. Let it out. Counted the apple trees on Satori Mountain.

I’m going to try and sleep, mother. I don’t feel well.

Chapter Text

The worst of Link’s melancholy passed during the night, but he remained distant and silent for most of the next morning. He knew that the others noticed; it was probably hard not to. He was lingering at the back of the group, eyes on the distance, and though his ears seemed to magnify every sound around him, he kept missing it when he was spoken to.

A touch on his hand made Link jump, and he turned to look at Mipha, whose brow was pinched in concern.

I’m sorry for startling you, she signed, but is something the matter? You seem distracted.

Link blinked at her for a minute, and then turned his gaze on the river alongside them, chewing the question over before he answered. The river, at least, looked just the same as it always had, except that there were no monsters camped along its banks.

It’s nothing, he said at last. I’m sorry I’m off today.

If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be sad, Mipha said, which for a moment took Link’s breath away. He had to force himself to loosen again.

Sorry, he repeated uncomfortably. It’s just... eerie, sometimes, to return to before everything fell apart.

He reached across to tangle his fingers in the two bracelets on his wrist.

Mipha made a soft sound of concern. It must be. I imagine you’re still grieving.

Link shrugged and made a little half-nod. It’s sporadic. I’ve had a lot of good days lately. Last night... He hesitated, considering, and then managed a smile, playful and self-deprecating. I felt guilty about being happy. Isn’t that silly?

A little bit, Mipha agreed, giving him a small smile of her own. Completely normal, of course. But silly. Recovery is always a good thing.

Something inside Link relaxed, and he was able to offer Mipha a warmer and more genuine smile. And never a straight line, he said cheerfully. He rolled his shoulders, contemplating the stretch. Is there something you were hoping to do before we returned to the castle?

They hadn’t been out nearly long enough for Link’s taste; he was starting to itch to do a proper run again. The fits and bursts of outings had been nice, but they had all been very precise and short-lived.

Well, I thought it would be ever so fortunate if we were able to fight together at least once, Mipha said, completely seriously.

Link blinked at her, and then laughed, loud and warm. With one hand, he fingered the hilt of his sword before he replied. We could take a detour, couldn’t we? The military training camp isn’t far out of our way. I haven’t seen it yet, it was too far when I did my circuit last month.

It’s fascinating, Mipha enthused, and then sped up to go propose the idea to an indulgent-looking Urbosa.

To Link’s delight, the others all seemed amenable to the idea, so when that point came, they kept going north rather than turning toward the castle. Trees soon started to speckle the field, and soon thickened into a small patch of woods, growing the further they traveled.

Before long there was a break in the woods, and Link got his first look at the fully intact training camp. The tall Woodland Tower rose out of somewhere in the middle, without the broken monster base he’d come to associate with it. He stepped up to the edge of the path and examined the rest.

There was a lot to the training camp. It seemed to be the size of a small village, with a dozen different buildings bundled tightly on the terraced land. It was busy, too, soldiers in shining armor crisscrossing the area on mysterious errands, fighting in some of the arenas Link could see set up, running what looked like an obstacle course. Asher had mentioned varied terrain, so Link looked for that – there was an arena set on a rocky slope, another caked in deep mud, another that was just a set of platforms in the air.

I don’t know where we’re going, Link admitted, and looked at Mipha, who seemed like she had been there before. Mipha smiled at him.

“There are a few courses meant to be tackled by a team,” she said. “We could speak to the training commander about attempting one. It’s not a fight, but it will help get us accustomed to working together.”

“If we must,” Revali complained, eying the courses with disdain.

The training commander was overseeing a large sparring session on a wide, flat arena; Link thought they might be reviewing sword basics. Mipha went right for him and spoke to him for a few minutes, clasping her hands together earnestly, and finally he nodded and waved in the general direction of the courses. Mipha gave him a bright smile and a quick, shallow bow before heading back toward them.

“He said we can take as much time there as we like,” Mipha said cheerfully. “I don’t think we should spend more than a few hours there, though, because we really must be heading back.”

“This was your idea,” Urbosa pointed out fondly, turning toward the course. “Which one?”

“We have our pick,” Mipha said, “but I rather thought it would depend on how much Link was comfortable with us helping him climb. I doubt we’ll need it against the Calamity, of course, but I thought- Link?”

Link had crossed his arms tightly across his chest, unnerved and frustrated, but after a second, he signed stiffly, I know your medical training makes it obvious, but please don’t draw attention to the things I have trouble doing.

“Oh. Oh!” Mipha clapped a hand over her mouth, looking mortified. “I’m sorry, I know I know better. I, I thought that it would be good team building. To practice that.”

Link exhaled, forcing his shoulders to loosen. It probably would be, he conceded grudgingly. He looked at the others.

“I don’t see why not,” Urbosa said agreeably. “You can’t climb?”

I climb very well, thank you, Link snapped. He took a breath and let it out, stilling his temper and forcing himself to actually turn the thought over. It’s painful, though. It... would make decent low-stakes practice, it’s true.

“Then let’s get going!” Daruk said, clapping Link on the back.

Link’s irritation fell away as soon as they reached the obstacle course, and he turned his head to follow the length of it, perking up with excitement. It seemed to be arranged for a diverse team like theirs, accounting for the different skills and sizes from Gorons to Hylians.

I think we’re meant to roll Daruk up that one, Link noted, eyes glimmering with amusement as he found a ramp with a hole at the top far too small for a Goron, unless said Goron was curled up like a pill bug.

Daruk laughed. “That’s a job for all four of ya for sure!”

“Oh, I hate this already,” Revali sighed, but he went to the starting line with the rest of them.

It was as fun as it looked. Link found that he didn’t even mind needing to be helped through a couple of obstacles, because the course was designed so that they all did sometimes. There were tall, thin poles that Mipha struggled to jump and balance on, so Link and Urbosa flanked her to keep her steady. Desert-dwelling Urbosa struggled to walk in the few patches of ankle-deep mud, and Daruk compacted himself down and rolled or was rolled every time the path shrank too small for him.

Link, as Mipha very well knew, needed boosts when there was a particularly tall wall, and support, usually from Daruk or Urbosa, when dangling was called for. And Revali, to the Rito’s obvious outrage, wasn’t nimble enough for some of the tasks with especially small handholds.

Link was surprised to find that within an hour of starting, he was smiling, wide and pleased. Not long after that, he was laughing, which sent Revali into a flurry of swears.

He was muddy and sore and out of breath, but he was laughing, and he didn’t even pause before he reached up to accept Urbosa’s help vaulting the next wall.

They were still only about halfway through the course when a horn blew, and all five of them went still, turning their attention on the horizon. It only took Link a moment to pick out the figure of a Rito flying toward them, and then the horn blew again.

Without hesitation, Link twisted and jumped off the high wall he was perched on, landing in a roll, and started toward the training commander. The others weren’t far behind, and it was Urbosa who reached the man first, suddenly all business. The activity he had been overseeing had come to a halt, but a few shouts from the commander sent them back to work.

“I hear it coming,” the man said gruffly to Urbosa, eyes on the distance. “Let’s see what we’ve got on our hands.”

In only a few more minutes, the Rito messenger came in to land, banking toward them when they spotted the ground. She looked ruffled and grim, but not hurt, Link noted, and only bothered with a shallow bow before she spoke.

“There’s a white-mane lynel heading in from the north,” she said, her voice not even wavering despite the sharp breath the commander took in. “It seems to be heading toward the Thyphlo Ruins, so it may be either meeting or awaiting reinforcements. I don’t believe it realizes it’s been detected.”

The training commander nodded sharply. “Thank you, Juli,” he said, and then turned to Daruk and Urbosa. “Ordinarily for a lynel I’d send for the royal guard, but under the circumstances, I’ll defer to your judgement.”

Daruk looked at Urbosa. Urbosa looked at Daruk.

“You think?” Daruk asked, starting to grin.

“I don’t see why not,” Urbosa said. “Mipha did say she wanted a fight.”

Mipha’s eyes went wide. Daruk chuckled and looked at the training commander.

“Leave it to us,” he said cheerfully.

Urbosa, Link, and Mipha borrowed horses for the trip north, setting off at a gallop. Daruk rolled alongside them, a boulder spinning at improbable speeds, and Revali flew overhead.

For all their apprehensiveness, not one of them had hesitated to go after the lynel, which Link thought spoke volumes about both their skill and competence. Daruk was particularly intent on the quarry, in such close proximity to Death Mountain. Link’s mind kept wandering back to his mental half-map of Thyphlo Ruins, which certainly held more than enough room for a secret ambush’s worth of monsters.

When they were closer, Revali sailed on ahead to scout the area, and then wheeled back and dove toward them.

“That’s no white-mane!” he shouted. “Looks close enough, but it’s like it’s washed its mane in monster’s blood, and it spotted me from a mile away.”

Link’s blood chilled, and he put his fingers to his mouth and whistled sharply. When the others looked at him, he signed, Silver, white-mane plus, servant of Ganon.

“Oh, perfect!” Revali snapped, but none of them stopped moving. “We’re not far off now! Ten, maybe twenty minutes at this pace.”

Link nodded and shifted his balance to look through his slate, and then, decisively, he downed a hasty elixir, a talus-gravel tough one, and the experimental lynel marrow mighty elixir. He’d be feeling it for days, but he didn’t like to take chances with the Calamity’s lynels.

“Got a few to spare?” Urbosa called to him, and with half a chuckle, Link flicked through his slate and tossed a couple more, for Urbosa and Mipha and Revali.

They finished the hasty preparations not a moment too soon. With the characteristic sharp eye of a silver lynel, it spotted them almost before they found it, even with their early warning. It let out a roar of challenge, and the horse under Link reared and balked. Impatient, he vaulted over its head and grabbed his paraglider, and a moment later, his own Revali twisted around him and sent him spinning into the air. It gave him a good view of the others charging in alongside him.

It only occurred to him then that he hadn’t really seen them dive into battle before. All of them were focused with deadly intent; Daruk burst out of his compact form to roar back at the lynel and slam into it, his enormous hands wrestling with the silver lynel’s. Urbosa fought like it was a dance, twisting past the two behemoths’ deadlock and building up momentum before her sword slashed across its flank, and on the other side, Mipha was herself like an arrow, flying towards its side and slamming her spear forward.

In the next moment, though, the lynel threw Daruk off with a slash of its sharp-edged shield, sending him tumbling, and both Urbosa and Mipha were swatted aside. Link and Revali were sinking arrows into the beast with little effect, and with a scowl, Link waved Revali off, dropped closer, and swiped his fingers blindly across his slate, letting muscle memory guide him.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight bomb arrows bombarded the lynel about the head and shoulders, and it bellowed, recoiling under its shield. Link let up, panting for breath, and let himself hit the ground while it was still recovering.

“Link!” Mipha called out, worried, but Link just lunged, grabbed one of the lynel’s great curved horns, and swung himself onto its back.

He looked at the others and shouted. All of them surged forward without hesitation.

It didn’t take as long as Link was accustomed to a lynel fight taking, that was for sure – not with the odds so stacked against the beast. Revali switched from regular to bomb arrows, and every time Link was thrown from its back, he would keep it wellstunned, roaring in pain as he rained them down on its sensitive horns. Daruk managed to break one of its forelegs while Link was yanking its head around, and Mipha’s trident went deep into its ribcage.

Link could feel the effects of the potions acutely in the rhythm of the fight. His grip on its horns was nigh unbreakable, and he could use the leverage to yank it around so harshly that it stumbled and screamed. He got back up every time he was thrown off, stumbling but unbroken, and Urbosa would sweep by, pick him up like a child, and put him back into reach with unmatched daring.

Finally, Link managed to take the lynel down with him when he was thrown off, a death grip on one horn, and Daruk took advantage of the opening to slam down on it and hold it there. Urbosa slit its throat, and Mipha thrust her trident up the soft part of its chin. It gurgled.

Link felt sore and sick and bruised, but when it finally stopped moving, he loosened his grip on the horn and laughed in relief, slumping down against its back and panting heavily. The others soon followed.

“That enough of a fight for you, princess?” Daruk asked Mipha with good humor, and she clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled drunkenly, spattered with sprays of monster blood and deep cuts.

“It certainly had us working together,” she said cheerfully, and then, “Is anyone hurt? Daruk, I know I saw it hit you with its shield more than a few times-”

Barely stopping to breathe, Mipha got right to work sealing up everyone’s injuries. Link pushed himself up with a grunt and grabbed a knife from his slate, starting to butcher the lynel – hooves, horns, heart, liver...

He was startled when Mipha finally set her hands on him, but of course, it was just to soothe the injuries he’d barely taken note of, a couple of cracked ribs and the vicious bruising on his shoulders from hitting the ground. He sighed in relief, closing his eyes, but something about the way she sighed when she was done made them pop open again, and he caught her as she swayed.

“Oh, that might’ve been a little much,” she giggled, but her eyes were glazed with exhaustion and her breath came quick and shallow.

Link dug through his slate and then grabbed one of his stronger stamina elixirs, tapping it against her wrist so she would take it and drink it down greedily. Link shook his head at her, feeling oddly soft.

It hit Link then what had happened. They’d taken down a lynel. It was something that Link was used to knowing he could only do alone, that no one else could help him with. He’d expected to do most of the work here too, even if the others could hold their own enough to be around. But that hadn’t been what had happened at all.

They’d worked together... and they’d taken down a silver lynel. He smiled broadly, and when Mipha’s eyes opened again, she grinned at him, too.

“It’s not a good sign that the servants of the Calamity have started makin’ themselves known,” said Daruk grimly, making Link look up. Urbosa nodded.

“It’s the surest sign yet of the Calamity’s power stirring,” she agreed. “The Yiga Clan will begin to notice soon too. We’ll likely have some time yet before it wakes, but we should prepare for the influx of monsters. Especially if there are going to be more like this.” She nudged the lynel’s butchered corpse with one foot.

“I’ll suggest that the Rito patrols be stepped up,” Revali said grudgingly, scowling down at the monster. “We don’t want anything like this getting close to a settlement.”

“Not unless it’s got us in,” Daruk chuckled, lifting his head to look at the others. “But it looks like we should go lookin’ for those beasts soon. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. We better get ourselves ready for the heat.”

Chapter Text

By the time Link finished running through everything he could think of, his head was aching, so he had no idea how everyone else still looked so attentive.

The blood moons, the malice-touched monsters, everywhere that he could remember seeing a hinox or talus or lynel. Which supply routes needed to be protected, the major camps that threatened travelers, where they threatened to encroach on settlements. Link hadn’t realized how much information he’d memorized about his own time until he started sharing it and just kept talking.

It was nightfall before he was done, and his hands were clumsy and tired, his stomach was roiling with the backlash from the lynel potion, and his head pulsed faintly when he tried to remember if he’d missed anything. He finally slowed to a halt, wavering a little, and looked back over the room uncertainly.

He felt like he’d given this same monologue at least half a dozen times now, and most of the people listening now had heard it before. The royal guards, the champions, the king himself, and three different scribes writing down everything he said, translated from sign and with occasional murmurs between them as they debated how to adapt a particular phrase. Link had once thought he was good under scrutiny – he’d gotten enough attention at Hateno and from every stable he passed through – but all of those people knew him, knew his cooking and his reticence and his scars. This felt different.

Uncomfortable, he rubbed his knuckles against his cheek and thought for a moment before he asked tentatively, Did I talk about the Great Fairies?

Yes, you did, Selwyn signed gently, something soft in his eyes.

Link bit his cheek. The Bridge of Hylia?

Yes, you did.

Tabantha Village? That one had been tragic to behold even in his own time, a ghost town full of monsters with no weapons from their conquest because there had never been any to take.

“Yes, Link,” Selwyn said firmly, and Link stilled his hands, tucking them uncomfortably against his chest.

Rhoam took pity on him. “That will do, Link. You’ve given us a wealth of information to work with.”

Link nodded skittishly without looking at anyone, and then, instead of seating himself at the table, he scampered over to a nearby bookshelf and scaled it. He hauled himself to the top and pressed himself against the wall, bounced in place to try and shake the tension off, and waved his fisted hands, a jerky motion like milking a cow. Finally, he rolled his shoulders, feeling a little better, and looked down to watch the conversation continuing below.

Goddess Hylia, Link needed to go for a run soon. To the Gerudo Desert, maybe – he still needed to find likely locations for the other three divine beasts, and Urbosa might not mind it if he behaved a bit erratically. He could visit Gerudo Town that way too. Oh, but his current clothes had been in style in his own time, and he’d only seen vai around his own age wearing them- maybe he could purchase a Hylian dress first, and then get some clothes that were more of the current time in town. He could ask Grace where she went, or Mary, maybe, since she was more active. He wouldn’t want a dress he couldn’t fight in.

“Excuse me?”

Startled out of his thoughts, Link looked back down at the table. Whatever else had transpired, Revali and Selwyn were now regarding each other with equally frosty looks. It had been Selwyn who spoke, soft with warning.

Revali wasn’t impressed. “Contemptible,” he said curtly. Link replayed the last few seconds in his mind and realized that had been what offended Selwyn. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I don’t suppose you care to elaborate,” Selwyn said, dangerously even, crossing his arms on the table in front of him.

“Oh, I would,” Revali said, and leaned forward to pin Selwyn with a venomous glare. “Should I begin with the blind obedience? The cheerful perpetuation of a dangerous tradition? Allowing a truly inconceivable amount of harm to befall your youngest child?”

Ah, Link thought. This again.

“This is about Link,” Selwyn said flatly.

“Obviously this is about Link,” Revali scoffed. “Have you seen the state of him?”

“I have, thank you,” Selwyn snapped.

“Then I am lost as to the source of your confusion,” Revali sneered. “A Rito chick in his position would be taken under the care of the elder in a heartbeat. Fire of Din, a Goron pebble wouldn’t be asked to do the things he has, and they can fall down the length of Death Mountain without a scratch. I assure you, your child does not have that same protection. But I suppose you’re just so infatuated with the idea of having such a special little boy-”

“You overstep,” Selwyn hissed, cutting him off remorselessly. “I am intimately aware of what my son is facing in the course of his duties, and further, I am doing my very best to make it easier and safer-”

“What an excellent job you’re doing, aside perhaps from the scarring, the battlesickness, the survivor’s guilt-”

Aggravated, Link clapped his hands over his ears, blocking out the argument. Revali was starting to get on his nerves. He hadn’t thought his age was the thing putting a chip in Revali’s shoulder. He’d kind of just thought Revali was born with it.

A tap on his foot made him look down, and Mipha was giving him a sympathetic smile. She beckoned for him to get down, and without hesitation, he slid off the bookshelf and landed silently. Without a word, Mipha led him out the door, and the two of them left the meeting room unnoticed.

“I know you’re tired of that,” Mipha explained, reaching out to twine their fingers together. “I don’t think they’ll miss us for a little while, do you?”

Hm. If he was holding hands with Mipha, he wouldn’t be able to make most signs. But he liked the feel of her hand in his. He shrugged instead, giving her a small smile and a nod. Mipha looked down at their hands, squeaked in embarrassment, and then loosened her grip, as if to let go. He squeezed her hand, stopping her, and Mipha looked up at him and smiled, embarrassed and a little bit silly with affection. He thought he might be too. He liked the way she made his heart flutter.

The two of them wove aimlessly through the halls for a while, not speaking. Absently, Link ran his thumb over the back of her hand, liking the cool, scaled texture of her skin. After a while, he started to steer her upward, and she went without questioning it, seemingly content just to walk with him.

He brought her to what had become one of his favorite places in the castle, the spire he’d retreated to soon after he first arrived. He let go of Mipha’s hand, climbed out, settled himself on the spire, and then turned around and offered his hand to her, smiling encouragingly.

Mipha blinked at him, wide-eyed, and then leaned over and looked down. She looked at him again, and he beckoned, trying not to laugh. She did laugh, soft and helpless, and then climbed out, took his hand, and let him balance her across from him.

They looked out over the horizon for a while, the fields and the mountains and the forests, all of the beautiful sights that made up Hyrule. Link held onto Mipha’s hand to reassure her, but his grip was loose and relaxed. Still, she did notice right away when he pulled his hand free to speak.

Hey, he said impulsively, turning to look at her again. Do you want to go somewhere together? This Saturday, in the afternoon.

Absolutely, Mipha said without hesitation, mouth widening into a delighted grin. Where?

Anywhere, Link said, completely sincere. Then he amended, a little embarrassed, What about Castle Town? We can meet by the stable and explore the outskirts. One o’clock.

It sounds like a date, Mipha said warmly, and Link beamed at her.

Link honestly could have stayed out there forever, but eventually Mipha started fidgeting in discomfort, so they had to retreat inside, sitting instead by the wall under the window. Link’s stomach bubbled in discomfort, still sick from the tainted potion, but it was easy to ignore in favor of Mipha’s warmth.

Impulsively, he leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, and she turned her head to catch his mouth, just like he had the day before. Startled, he had to suppress a soft moan, and moved closer instead.

They kissed until the warmth pooling in Link’s body was threatening to turn into heat, pausing in between to talk in snatches, and Link couldn’t remember a time he’d enjoyed someone’s company more.

“Aren’t you two getting along perfectly?” Mipha jumped and squeaked, but Link just looked up at Selwyn and tilted his head. Selwyn chuckled, but the amusement in his eyes didn’t quite mask the strain. He bowed briefly to Mipha, and then straightened up, looked her in the eye, and said, “I don’t believe we’ve met, Princess Mipha. My name is Selwyn, I’m Link’s father.”

“And a royal guard too, aren’t you?” Mipha inquired curiously, though from the way she ran her eyes over his uniform, it was a rhetorical question. “It’s very good to meet you as well. Did you need something?”

“It’s getting late, so I was going to ask Honey if he’s coming home tonight or staying in the castle,” Selwyn said, looking at Link. “You’re welcome to come home on your own, of course, but I didn’t want to leave without telling you.”

Warmth bloomed through Link’s chest, shy and delighted, and he quickly reached out to squeeze Mipha’s hand, and then signed, I’m coming. Mipha and I are going to meet on Saturday anyway.

Are you, now? Selwyn teased, and Link actually blushed. Have a good night, Princess Mipha. I hope to better meet you soon.

Mipha giggled with embarrassment, but let Link go without resistance. He followed Selwyn back down the stairs, humming in contentment, and only looked up when Selwyn spoke.

“How close were you and Mipha really in your memory?” Selwyn asked. He was still smiling, but it faded as soon as Link’s did, and Link actually slowed to a stop. He felt uncomfortable.

I didn’t expect to like her so much so quickly, he admitted. But... I know that we were close. She gave me Zora armor. I still have it.

Selwyn inhaled sharply, clearly not expecting that. Link shrugged and shuffled his feet. His stomach twisted, and it was only a little because of the lynel marrow.

I’m not hiding it from her, he added defensively. He reached up and bit his thumb, anxious. I just. Don’t want her to feel pressured. But. That’s why I was so excited to meet her.

When he looked up, Selwyn’s expression had softened. He reached over and nudged Link forward, and Link kept walking.

I’m glad it seems to be working well for you, Selwyn said at last. But I hope you’re not hanging too many of your hopes on this.

No, Link said, and squirmed again. No, I just... like her.

Good, Selwyn said, and Link relaxed instantly.

Before he was even fully awake, Selwyn’s hand was closing around the hilt of his sword, and his heart was racing. Before he was off the bed and on his feet, he’d realized it was Honey that was screaming, and by the time he was out the door, he was already certain that Honey was having a nightmare.

The cries and keens of his oldest son snapped at his heels as he headed for the ladder, with Eileen only a few steps behind him and other doors already opening. Without ceremony, he yanked down the ladder and hauled himself up just as he heard a bang, and some of the screams turned into sobs.

He crawled out to see Honey on the floor beside the cot, tangled up in his borrowed blanket and fighting against the confinement. His face was screwed up, and he was crying like a frightened infant, sobbing so hard he was struggling to breathe through it.

Selwyn hesitated, wary of startling Honey, but then he saw Honey’s head bang off of the floor and his knee hit the cot, and he tossed his sword aside and hurried forward. Working together, he and Eileen moved Honey away from the cot, but trying to hold him still was a lost cause; he wasn’t a tiny six year old anymore, and the couple of kicks that connected with Selwyn made him swear.

A brief glance back at the trapdoor revealed that Eloise had also come to investigate, and she was dead pale as she watched, wisely keeping the other children back. Selwyn looked at Eileen, and Eileen gave him a nod and went to calm them while Selwyn handled Honey.

Steeling himself, Selwyn pinned Honey’s shoulders to the ground and spoke firmly. “Link. You’re having a nightmare. You need to wake up, Link. Link, wake up.”

The tone mattered more than the words did, in this case, and slowly it started to have an effect. The thrashing slowed but didn’t stop, and Honey started gasping more, hyperventilating through his tears. It made something in his chest crack just to watch. Selwyn had never wanted this for his children.

Selwyn swore again and let go as Honey suddenly clawed frantically at his hands, and Honey scrambled back before his eyes were even open. When he blinked at Selwyn blearily, Selwyn was sure he wasn’t seeing him.

The burst of energy seemed to fade in seconds, and Honey slumped back onto the ground, still hyperventilating and keening by turns, cheeks glittering with tears.

Hurts, Honey fumbled out frantically, or that was what Selwyn thought he’d said. Hurts, it hurts, I’m burning, I’m burning. Make it stop, I need to stop, it hurts...

“You’re okay,” Selwyn said, with as much calm as he could muster. “You’re not hurt, Link. You’re at home, in the attic. You’re wearing pajamas. They’re soft, the way you like them. Your hair is down. You let Grace brush it out for you. You fell off your cot, and you’re on the floor. It’s wood. It gets cool at night.”

Selwyn watched Honey investigate all of these claims with shaky hands, checking his clothes and his hair and the floor below him, the blanket and then his own skin, prodding gingerly at his shoulders and stomach and legs. The crying slowed but didn’t stop. Honey took a deep breath and clenched his jaw against the whimpers, and then, in only a few seconds, burst into tears again.

I don’t wanna burn, Honey begged, still lying on the floor twisted up in blankets. Don’t let me burn. Don’t let me burn.

“I won’t,” Selwyn said. “You’re safe here.”

It seemed to take an eternity before Honey was safely in Selwyn’s arms, clinging on like a babe and his cries slowed and quieted for now. It was probably exhaustion more than anything that let Honey lean shamelessly into him, still shivering in great, wracking spasms. Selwyn rocked with him, calming his son in the best way he knew how, and ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair.

He didn’t loosen his grip on Honey until Honey did first, and even then, it was just to let Honey blink blearily up at him, and then say, I don’t want to go back to sleep.

Selwyn nodded solemnly, and the two of them went downstairs without another word. At the kitchen table, they shared a plate of honeyed fruits, as many kinds as they had on hand, and then Selwyn warmed some milk, stirred in a few spoonfuls of honey, and they had that too. Honey had always been Link’s favorite comfort food, and it looked like that didn’t change any as he grew.

Sorry, Honey said after a while, with his cup half-empty. I didn’t mean to wake everyone up.

Selwyn let himself smile, reached over, and ruffled Honey’s hair before he replied. It happens to the best of us. Are you feeling better?

Honey nodded, giving him half a weary smile in return. Yeah. I... have that nightmare a lot, but it’s not usually so. Vivid. I don’t know what changed. But I think- I think it’s from when I was being taken to the shrine of resurrection.

While he was dying, in other words. Of course he had nightmares about that. Selwyn still acutely remembered the sensation of the malice he’d sunk his hand into at the behest of the sword spirit.

Selwyn reached out and squeezed his hand, and then pulled back to say, I saw you and Grace discussing a visit to Gerudo Town earlier. Are you interested in the bazaar?

Honey relaxed a little and hummed his agreement, accepting the topic change with a touch of relief. The bazaar and the city, yes. I bet the Gerudo are thriving in this time. Honey yawned. Grace is going to take me to where Mary gets her dresses, since a riding dress would be better suited to battle than the ones Grace wears. I might ask Eloise too though. Try and get one that holds up to enchantment.

You aren’t planning on sneaking in, are you? Selwyn teased gently.

Honey yawned again, rubbing his face. Selwyn was abruptly and chillingly reminded of the accusations the Rito champion had thrown at his face earlier that day.

It’s not sneaking in if you just choose to be a girl for a while, Honey said belatedly. It was incomprehensible to Selwyn, but he had to smile anyway. It was so Link.

My mistake, you would never, he chuckled, and Honey laughed quietly too. Selwyn’s merriment faded rapidly as he looked at Link. Is something wrong? You look pale.

Honey swallowed, winced, and said, I think I have to throw up.

Chapter Text

It was one of the more unpleasant side effects Link had suffered from his creative potions. He ended up on the back step, vomiting into a bush, for most of the night, and at some point also started running a fever high enough to make him sweat.

I really thought I was out of the woods, too, he complained to Selwyn, who had opted to stay up with him rather than return to bed. I took the potion two days ago!

Sometimes illness takes a while to set in, Selwyn signed back, almost as amused as he was sympathetic. What potion was it? I’ve never seen backlash like this from anyone outside of young children.

Monster marrow mighty potion, Link said, declining at the last moment to specify what kind of monster he’d taken it from. It worked pretty well, I guess, but I didn’t really need the extra boost for that fight. Might be better for... ugh. Something else.

Selwyn snorted and ran his fingers through Link’s hair, making him sigh as he slumped against the wall, half curled up around his stomach.

Will you be alright if I leave for a moment to get you some water? Selwyn asked. Link was nodding before he finished, and Selwyn squeezed his knee before he got up.

Link leaned over and retched into the bush again, coughing from low in his chest.

They were there for most of the night, and before very long Link was just coughing up bile, which was far more painful than his meal’s second appearance. It brought up half-remembered habits from a lifetime ago or more, and until dawn started to break, he spent most of the time between bursts of nausea sitting almost in Sewlyn’s lap, panting to catch his breath while Selwyn rubbed his back and coaxed him into drinking despite his soft grunts of protest.

It was strange to be on this side of the equation.

With the rise of the sun, Selwyn apparently decided it was time to take Link back inside, and then he sat Link at the table and started making something. Link put his head in his arms and dozed, and didn’t wake back up until Selwyn set a bowl by his elbow, startling him.

“Plain porridge,” Selwyn explained at Link’s blank look. “If you keep it down, wonderful. If you don’t, it’ll probably be less painful to vomit up than the last couple of hours have been.”

Link made a couple of quiet, sullen noises, but eventually he sat upright and started eating. It wasn’t quite right – wasn’t how Eileen made it – but it did, to Link’s relief, settle his stomach a little, and he ate almost half of it before pushing the rest away and putting his head back in his arms.

Selwyn placed a cool hand over his forehead, and Link tilted his head into it.

“Still a little feverish,” Selwyn said. I’ll have to head to the castle soon, but I’ll ask Eloise to stay home and look after you. If you think your stomach’s settled, you should try and get some sleep.

You don’t need to ask Eloise to stay, Link said immediately, feeling his mouth pull into a frown. I don’t need to be minded. I’m not even vomiting anymore.

It’ll help settle my mind, Selwyn said. I don’t want you here alone while you’re feeling unwell.

Link shifted a little, but he didn’t protest again.

Not really wanting to make the climb back to the attic, Link allowed himself to be coaxed into stretching out across the sofa and closing his eyes. He listened to Selwyn move around for a while, then disappear into his and Eileen’s room again, and fell asleep before he heard the man come back out.

When he opened his eyes again, Eloise was mending one of Mary’s riding dresses, seated on the armchair nearby. She glanced idly up at Link, met his eyes, and started.

“Hey,” she said, giving him a small smile. “Feeling well enough to get a glass of water down?” Link grimaced and put his arm over his face. “Oh, don’t be like that. You’ll feel better afterward.”

Grudgingly, Link pushed himself upright and reached for the glass on the table nearby, and took a few sips. It sat cold in his empty stomach, and he winced and set it back down. He should probably have some food too, but he didn’t really want to make anything.

“Honey. You know I’m right.”

Link sighed, because yes, he did. He picked it up again and spent the next few minutes grudgingly nursing the glass, trying to finish it. Being sick was such a chore.

Eloise went back to sewing, and Link watched her between sips.

After a few minutes, Eloise glanced up at him again. “Did you ever pick up sewing?”

Link shook his head. If his clothes really needed repair, which fortunately grew less common as the Great Fairies cast more enchantments, he usually took them to Rhondson or Sophie, both of whom could work magic with a torn garment. Some of his oldest clothes had a lot of patches to show for it, but they’d stayed sturdy.

“Do you want to?” Eloise asked.

Link thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. Eloise moved to sit beside him, the skirt spread over both their laps, and without thinking he leaned against her shoulder to watch. Neither of them said another word until she was done, and then it was for Eloise to turn the skirt, push it over to him, and talk him through fixing that hole himself. It took more than twice as long as Eloise had, for a hole about one third the size, but Link thought he’d done alright, and Eloise was smiling.

He gave her a quick smile too, pleased with the new skill, and then curled up to lean against the back of the couch, closing his eyes.

“Go back to sleep,” Eloise said immediately. He felt the sofa shift as she stood up. “I’ll make you some food when you wake up.”

Link grunted quietly, sprawled across the couch again, and fell asleep.

He woke up a few hours later, the sun spilling across the room from one of the windows, and immediately grimaced, walked straight to the back door, and knelt down on the step to vomit into the bush again. His stomach twisted angrily, and he coughed a couple times, then reached up to wipe his mouth.

“Oh, dear,” Eloise said from behind him. “Do you think you’re done?”

Link shook his head, retched once more, and then forced himself to breathe until he could nod. Eloise helped him back up onto shaky legs, and in a few minutes he was back on the couch, just about ready to pass out again.

“Not yet, Honey,” Eloise said. Link made a complaining noise. “I know, I know. But you need to eat or you’ll vomit up your stomach.”

Link agreed grudgingly, but still ended up dozing while Eloise worked. His mind wandered, losing itself briefly in long hours of convincing Zelda to eat little portions of food at a time, fruitcake, bread, honey, anything he could convince her to swallow. She used to cry from the pain if she vomited too much on an empty stomach.

Eloise returned with a cut-up apple, sticky with honey, and Link took it and ate steadily through the offering.

Wouldn’t you rather be studying? he asked her, when he’d finished licking his fingers clean. She shrugged.

“I’ve been looking after all of you when you were sick since I was eight,” she said dismissively. “It’s not a big deal. Anyway, I haven’t spent a lot of time with you. You’re always busy.”

...Honey Nut is here every night, though, Link signed, without looking directly at her. And he’s the one you actually know.

Eloise paused, and then sighed, letting her busy hands drop into her lap.

“Is that why you don’t spend much time here?” she asked. Link didn’t answer. “Look- it’s not like you’re not my little brother, you know?” She shrugged, looking a little flustered. “I mean, I know you’re from a different time and all. A lot of stuff happened to you. And I don’t know most of it. But it’s... not like any of that made you not my brother.”

Her voice got quieter as she went on, but it never lost an odd sense of conviction.

Something released in Link’s chest, and he relaxed.

Thanks, he said honestly, and then rolled over to fall asleep again.

Honey ended up sleeping there for another night, a blanket thrown over him while he dozed on the couch. The next morning his stomach had settled enough for him to eat a full meal and drink three glasses of water. He took this to mean he was well enough to get back to business.

He had to fend off a lot of fussing to convince his family of that, though, and it took some coaxing of his own to get them to finally release him and little Link to go visit Robbie and Purah. He didn’t tell his younger self why they were going.

It had been almost a week. Honey was nearly certain that Robbie and Purah would have worked out how to copy a rune in that time.

Aren’t these the people that scared you before? little Link asked distrustfully, shuffling his feet as he walked. Honey had to smile.

Yeah, but it’s okay. They mean well, and I’m not hard to spook.

Little Link looked dubious, but he didn’t have time to say anything more before they were inside. Honey swept his gaze over the room, Robbie and Purah and the closed back door, with no sound of mechanical grinding. He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled, which made both Sheikah jump. He hid a smile.

“Is that this time’s Link?” Purah asked, almost as soon as she saw both of them. She dropped the half-assembled part she was working with and headed over, and little Link crossed his arms defensively across his chest. Purah didn’t seem to notice. “Aren’t you a bite-sized little brat? Hey, you got your Sheikah slate with you?”

Little Link frowned at her, and then looked at Honey, clearly unsure. Honey chuckled quietly and said, You can give it to her. I think she has a present for you.

Little Link’s eyes sparked with interest, and he grabbed his Sheikah slate out of the inside of his jacket, offering it up to Purah. Purah grinned.

“Yours too, big boy,” she said to Honey.

Honey nodded and followed her over to the corner, where, he realized, there was something that was just barely recognizable as an approximation of a guidance stone. She directed him to place his Sheikah slate into the slot on one pedestal, and she placed little Link’s on the other. Honey gestured for little Link to come closer and watch, and he did, standing on tiptoe to watch curiously.

“And... snap!” Purah said cheerfully, and slammed her palm down on a button.

The pedestal with Honey’s slate started to glow blue, brighter by the second, and as soon as it reached a crescendo where it was almost white, it started to drain down, spiraling around and around in a pipe plastered with Sheikah runes. The pipe then veered upward, leading into what was definitely a long, thin guidance stone. The blue-white light trickled down, gathered at the tip, and finally fell and splashed against little Link’s slate.

“Ta-da!” Purah declared, and gestured impatiently for them to look.

Smiling, Honey reached out and took his slate, opened it up, and checked that his communication rune was still present and operable. It seemed to be fine. He looked down at little Link and found him bouncing on his toes, eyes bright with glee, and assumed that he had it too.

He looked at Purah and gave her a small smile.

Thanks, he said, tucking the slate under his arm. It means a lot.

“Anytime!” Purah said breezily, giving him two thumbs up. Honey chuckled.

“You better check to make sure that works,” Robbie called out without looking up, bent over something that appeared to be almost complete. “She’s been working on nothing else the entire week and she hasn’t slept in three days.”

Ah. Yes, Honey did see the telltale dark circles underneath the manic look. The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Of course it works!” Purah said indignantly. “I triple-checked every calculation last night!”

Honey gestured to little Link, and they went to sit at the crowded table in the middle.

I need to give you a tutorial on how it works anyway, he explained.

But I was using it the other day? little Link questioned, frowning at him.

That was for one specific conversation, Honey said. It’s a little trickier to use it on a day to day basis. Don’t worry, it’s not complicated, I just want to run you through it.

So he showed little Link the different categories, introduction topics and crisis-related phrases and the sections for necessities, for hobbies, for travel and emotional conversations. He showed him how to search for something you knew was recorded, how to adjust what section something displayed under, how to delete an unnecessary recording and how to create a new one.

Zelda and Sidon recorded most of mine, but you might ask Mom or Dad to do it for you, Honey explained to little Link, who was nodding along, brow furrowed in concentration. It’s a little tiring compared to sign language or gesture, but it’s important to have a way to communicate with people who don’t understand either of those.

Little Link nodded thoughtfully, and then put the slate back into his jacket, safe and sound. Honey hesitated, not wanting to leave before he’d properly introduced little Link to the Sheikah scientists, but it turned out that Purah was ahead of him.

In such a way that perhaps he would have preferred to leave after all.

“Hey, you wanna meet a guardian scout?” she asked little Link awkwardly. Little Link perked up right away, and Purah grinned at the same time that Honey frowned.

Little Link looked at Honey as Purah was leaving. What’s wrong? I’m supposed to fight with these, right? They’re meant to help me and Zelda.

Honey pursed his lips, weighing the truth of the statement against the risk. Yes, that’s the intention. It’s probably good for you to meet them. Just... be careful, that’s all. They hit hard.

Little Link nodded seriously, and then Purah was returning, followed by a docile guardian scout with a clear blue gaze. Honey’s eyes were drawn to the way its legs moved, but it didn’t make his heart stutter the way its full-size counterparts did. Little Link strode toward it fearlessly, his eyes bright with curiosity, and stopped only a few feet away.

Purah grinned at little Link and patted the scout’s side.

“We’ve been calling this thing Guardian Scout Four!” she said cheerfully. “Or Gus, if you’re not the stuck-up sort. Won’t be any good against anything bigger than a bokoblin camp, but it’ll be great for tracking enemy movements without getting picked off by sentries or patrols – oh, look here.” She crouched down, and little Link leaned to look where she was pointing. She popped a panel and tapped something, and a video started to play- Honey was too far away to make it out.

It has more arms than the ones I fought in the shrine, little Link commented, without looking away from the scout.

“It can put its arms away!” Purah explained, pressing a few more buttons until it had no arms at all. “But it’s more fun with all three.” She tapped something to let them pop back out. “We still have to test its coordination to see if it’s limited in what weapons it can use effectively, but these are probably what you’ll interact with one-on-one the most, so get used to them.”

Little Link grunted quietly, and then reached for its empty claw-hand and shook it decisively. He stared at it for another moment, then smiled and looked at Purah, a little warmer than when they’d first come in.

What about the big ones? he asked. Honey stiffened, hands clenching on the table. What are those for?

“Those’ll carve gouges through the Calamity’s ranks!” Purah enthused. “It can bring lynels and hinoxes and taluses down from the mountains, and not a one of them will put a dent in a full-size Sheikah guardian!”

Honey closed his eyes and tried not to put the pride in her voice next to the shame and defeat that he remembered in Robbie’s.

There were a couple seconds of silence.

“Oh, yeah, we did, actually,” Purah said. Honey exhaled, opened his eyes, and looked at them again. Purah was still smiling, but it was a little more awkward now. “Hey, Robbie! You got that child-size sword somewhere on your desk?”

Robbie slotted the last few pieces into place and nodded distractedly.

“Lazy bastard!” Purah snapped, but she went and got it and showed little Link how to work it, and without a moment of hesitation, little Link accepted the ancient short sword and started to run through forms with it, using the same swift grace that Honey had seen him training with.

It looked out of place on such a young child.

Robbie took what he’d been working on and stood up, drawing Honey’s attention. Then he headed right for Honey. Honey tilted his head.

“Little bird said you were interested in this one,” he said gruffly, and tossed the model to Honey.

Honey caught it and realized with a start that it was the morningstar prototype – or maybe not the prototype; it was clean of the marks and runes that Robbie and Purah both used to annotate their works-in-progress. He pressed the button to activate it, and the blue shards of energy popped out of the end, forming a menacing-looking spiked tip. He smiled, shut it off, and held it out. Robbie snorted.

“Nah, we still got the prototype,” he said dismissively. “Keep that one.”

Honey softened, and put the weapon down to sign, Thanks.

It went into the slate alongside all the others he kept on him, mostly other ancient weaponry with a few lizal and lynel weapons and royal broadswords, and then hesitated. He flicked over to the outfits he kept on hand and stared at them for a moment.

...Did you get enough data on the ancient armor? he asked without looking up.

“Not really,” Robbie admitted, feigning a dismissive tone – it had too much strain to be sincere. “We were more focused on getting the hang of the weapons. King Rhoam wants the royal guard outfitted with at least two each by the end of the season.”

Honey nodded slowly, hesitated for a moment longer, and then, decisively, removed each piece and set them on the table wherever there was room.

Don’t make the helmet look so stupid this time, Honey said, giving Robbie a small smile. There’s a reason I wear the diamond circlet instead.

“You have no taste,” Robbie tossed back, but he was smiling when he pulled the cuirass close and turned it over to examine the inside with fascination.

Chapter Text

Friday evening, Link spent a few hours in the library, searching through the shelves of old and historical books. The bindings ranged from crisp to crinkled to torn, some of them frayed at the corners, some of them so old they’d clearly been bound by hand, with pages crooked and misplaced. There were a few carved stone tablets of Goron make, using a shorthand symbology unfamiliar to Link, and baskets of Zora scrolls in waterproof glass and metal tubes.

He flipped through a couple of Hylian books, and eventually picked two, reached up on tiptoe to put them on the highest shelf he could reach, and then hauled himself up the bookshelf to perch on top. He leaned down to reach the books he’d stashed, and jumped when someone spoke.

“You’re so fucking weird.”

Link looked up, frowning faintly when he saw it was Impa who had spoken, standing a few yards away from the shelf. He sat up, placing the two thick books on his lap, and looked at her for a moment before he replied. Where’s Zelda?

She’s studying with the alchemists again, Impa replied briskly, and then hauled herself up the shelf beside his with only a grunt. Have you always fretted over her like this?

Link blinked, casting his mind back – first over the time he’d spent caring for Zelda, the time trying to remember her, working to get her out of the castle. His memories of before, following her everywhere for fear of assassination attempts by the Yiga or the Calamity’s monsters. Yeah, I guess.

Impa snorted, leaning back against the wall. You’re pretty gentle with her. I’d’ve thought you’d be rougher after all the battle you’ve seen.

Link clicked his tongue a couple of times, frowning. I don’t know. Maybe if she was flippant about it, I guess. But she’s never been that. She knows better. Her devotion was what killed her in the end.

It’s an honorable death, Impa signed solemnly, eyes somewhere on the wood between them. Link paused, looking at her, and couldn’t help but think of what the Yiga had told his younger self.

He didn’t know why he was letting the man’s words get to him so much. It was very unlike Link. But he kept finding himself mulling it over, untangling it like a knot or a puzzle. He kept thinking about the Sheikah he’d known during his journey. He kept remembering the legend of Impaz, which Cado had told to him, Koko, and Cottla in a hushed and reverent tone.

The last woman of her village, trapped by monsters and tied by duty. It was an awful story, but Link hadn’t had the heart to say that to Cado.

It was slow, messy, and painful, Link said at last. It might have been honorable, but it was not kind.

(Do Sheikah believe in kindness?)

Impa’s expression pinched slightly, and she didn’t reply right away. Link looked down at the book in his lap and opened it to the table of contents. It was a thick book, on the old side of new, and looking through the section titles told Link that it went as far back as the end of the sages’ bloodlines. Only a few hundred years.

Do you miss her? Impa asked suddenly. Link looked sharply back up at her, and she shifted, defensiveness creeping into her expression. You don’t talk about Zelda’s future much. Just her death.

Did he really? Link supposed that that was what weighed on him the most, having consumed all of his attention for the better part of a year following the Calamity’s destruction. But that wasn’t fair to Zelda. She’d been a lot more than that.

Sorry, he said. I don’t mean to be bleak.

Impa shrugged, and she repeated, Do you miss her?

Yeah, Link said, and then, instead of elaborating, he continued, You’ll get along – she’s duty-bound even at this age, and she’ll become more so as she gets older. It’s not just obligation either. She really believes in it. No one can make Zelda do something she doesn’t want to, not really. She’s too headstrong.

Impa hummed curiously. Is it weird to know what the future will be like?

Link shifted, discomfort flickering through him and being dismissed just as quickly. Sometimes. Why?

Impa stuck out her tongue, looking vaguely annoyed. You’re a part of my duty too, dumbass. And I don’t do half a task.

Instead of feeling thrown again, Link just shifted again, keeping a thoughtful gaze on her for several moments. He didn’t reply in the end, just returned his attention to the book in his lap and flicked through the first few pages. For the first time, Impa seemed to look at the books he was holding.

“Are those Sheikah books?” she asked, audibly surprised. Link nodded. “Why?”

Well, Link certainly wasn’t going to explain that a Yiga traitor had made him curious. Someone referenced Sheikah history in a conversation the other day, and I realized I don’t know a lot about it. So I was looking into it.

“Oh, that book’s not going to help you,” Impa blurted out. He looked up at her, and she flushed. “Uh.”

Link considered her for a moment, and then closed the book. Do you have one in mind?

Impa ended up leading him to a different part of the library altogether, telling him that Sheikah folklore was more akin to an oral history.

“People only started to write them down in the last century or two,” Impa explained, running her fingers over the spines as she examined them. “Mostly my own family, since we’re the oldest Sheikah bloodline in the present day.”

Link hadn’t known that about Impa, either, though in this time she seemed to share the information freely. Why does that mean your family wrote it?

“We have all of the oldest stories,” Impa said without hesitation, and picked out the third book to hand to Link. “And we spend the most time in Hylian court, which meant we spent the most time around written history. Otherwise it might have stayed word-of-mouth forever.”

Link hummed in interest, accepting the modest stack thoughtfully.

He ended up with a small stack of only four books, which seemed to cast a rather broad net: one book full of the very oldest legends, ones from thousands of years before. Another entirely focused on the Sheikah’s telling of the cycle through the ages. One that told the story of the Sheikah alone, their wax and wane through the centuries as set apart from Hyrule’s. And the last was all recent history, including, Impa admitted to him with obvious shame, the founding of the Yiga clan.

They were just wrapping up, Impa’s brow furrowed as she clearly tried to remember if she’d missed anything, when someone approached them. Link looked up and smiled when he realized it was Grace, clearly at work and coming to check on him.

You seem busy, she said to Link as soon as he met her eyes, giving him a small smile. Who’s this with you?

Link set the books down on the nearby table, but before he could even move to introduce them, he looked up to find that Impa was introducing herself, and Grace, for some reason, had turned bright pink. Grace fumbled with her hands, rubbed her cheek with a bashful smile, and then said to Impa, Are you looking for anything?

“Um,” Impa said, color starting to spread across her face too, and then, clearly making it up on the spot, I- bestiary, can you help me find a bestiary?

Of course, Grace promised earnestly, not even seeming to notice Impa’s embarrassment past her own. Link tilted his head curiously as they both walked away in a seemingly random direction, and then dismissed the odd encounter out of hand.

He sat down to start reading.

Link met Mipha where he’d promised, just outside the stables on the east side of the castle. She was dressed in the prettiest butter-yellow silk, draped over her so that it covered a bit more than usual and fell into a shape just like a Hylian dress, though he could see that there were gaps where some of her fins were allowed to peek through. She was already smiling in embarrassment, cute and flustered.

I’m sorry, I didn’t know where we’d go, so I wasn’t sure what to wear, she apologized, shifting in place as he approached. Is this alright?

You look perfect, Link said honestly, a little embarrassed himself; he hadn’t even thought to wear anything except his usual deep green tunic and brown-dyed trousers. And it doesn’t matter a lot where we go. I thought we’d just walk around and see if anything caught our eye.

Mipha relaxed. Perfect, she echoed, and took his hand when he held it out.

It wasn’t far from the stable to the edge of Castle Town, so they took their time walking there; despite his own halfhearted efforts, Link kept getting distracted by mushrooms among the tree roots and the little plants in the shallows of the water. After the third time, Mipha laughed quietly and crouched beside him to help, and he gave her a slightly embarrassed grin.

You can’t focus to save your life, can you? she asked fondly, her arms now wet halfway up to the elbow. She flicked her fingers at the water, casting off the droplets, and he laughed a little.

It’s just a shame to leave things behind, he said, and he straightened up, brushed his hands off, and offered her a hand up to continue on their way.

So they were both a little wet and a little dirty by the time they actually reached the edge of town, but in a comfortable and cheery mood all the same. The area they first entered appeared to be residential, but soon enough they passed through and Link found himself looking at an immense cathedral that he only vaguely recognized.

It was plain stone and wood doors, characteristic of Hylian worship; all of the carvings would be inside, the better to survive the ages, and a statue of Hylia, maybe as big as the one in the castle. Link wondered suddenly what it looked like inside.

They passed it by; Link would have to look at the place on his own time. Instead they found themselves in what was clearly the Zora neighborhood of Castle Town, with deep, clear ponds where a few guppies were playing and more grown Zoras chatting in the shallows. Link nudged Mipha.

I thought we could get lunch while we were out, he said. Do you want to do it here?

Mipha brightened, and then gave him a toothy grin and a nod.

Zora tended to like their food raw and unspiced, but they were amazing with flavor and texture. Link got Chillfin Sweet, a bound salad made from chillfin trout, ripe apples, honey, and chopped safflina; it had been his favorite since Sidon had first offered it to him. Mipha conversed with the owner for a while before requesting blueshells with nuts and radishes.

The food stand was run at the edge of the largest pool, and Link sat cross-legged just out of the water while Mipha dropped into it with a sigh of pleasure.

Most Hylians aren’t fond of Zora dishes, Mipha noted, looking curiously up at Link as she picked at her meal. Have you had it before? You seemed to know what you wanted right away.

Most Hylians are kind of squeamish, Link said, giving her a small smile. I’ve eaten raw poultry and rocks before, so it didn’t even really occur to me that anything was odd until I saw the innkeeper cooking for some guests.

Oh, so you share a diet with Gorons too, Mipha said, and then giggled guiltily and hid her hands. Link just laughed.

Rocks are kind of gross regardless of mineral content or curry spice, he said cheerfully. But it’s nice to eat socially sometimes.

I could never, Mipha said earnestly, and then popped a chunk of raw mollusk into her mouth.

When they were finished, they moved on, weaving through the streets. Link asked Mipha what she was learning at home, and she seemed absolutely delighted to talk about her lessons. A lot of them were medical, injuries that had to be treated before they were healed, complications that had to be dealt with, and some were trade related, the standing traditions between the Zora and the Gerudo and the older ones with the Gorons, and some overseas that Link hadn’t known about at all.

A lot of both went over Link’s head, but he followed along the best he could, and Mipha’s gestures only grew more earnest and animated as she kept going. At some point, a faint ache set in, telling Link that rain was on its way. He barely noticed, all of his attention on Mipha as she shifted from lessons to suddenly talking about her brother, learning sign just to help teach him and how excited he got when he watched the blacksmiths work.

Link spotted a convenient route up to a rooftop and nudged Mipha, who laughed as soon as she realized what he was suggesting. She allowed herself to be led up, climbing from a stack of crates to a windowsill and then hopping up, one after the other, onto the roof. Link helped her keep her balance as she climbed down, and they sat down close to the peak, Link straddling the shingles and Mipha’s legs crossed modestly at the ankles. The shopkeeper whose roof they were perched on came out to squint up at them, but he left them alone when Link waved at him.

I’ve been talking forever, haven’t I? Mipha said at last, smiling with some embarrassment. I’m sorry, I know you must not care too terribly much about healer training.

It’s okay, it was cute, Link said, and bobbed forward to kiss her fleetingly on the cheek. Just the light action sent a new warm glow through him every time, and Mipha’s bright smile said she liked it just as much. When do you think you’ll be able to put it into practice?

I already can often enough, Mipha said cheerfully. Nico lets me work on simpler injuries entirely unsupervised. But he thinks I’ll be ready to work completely on my own within a year or two.

That’s amazing, Link said earnestly. What do you think Sidon is going to want to be?

Mipha started to answer, and then her eyes lit up with mischief. You tell me, she said teasingly, and Link laughed.

I don’t think Sidon is going to grow up the same way, he said, with a cheerful confidence that surprised him more than it did Mipha. Then, I hate to tell you this, but he really did like being a warrior.

Of course he did, Mipha said fondly. Always wanting to play the monster hunter. Is it strange to think of him being so much younger now?

Kind of, Link said thoughtfully, taking the question at face value. But in a lot of ways, this Hyrule is a completely different place from how I knew it. The Sidon I knew grew up with that Hyrule. I think this is a second chance for him too. He flashed Mipha a smile. Who knows? Maybe he’ll take to exploring.

Oh, goodness, say it isn’t so, Mipha said, and then she laughed.

For a while after that, they watched the street below – the roof Link had taken them up had a good view of the square, and people seemed to love gathering around the fountain to socialize. According to Mipha, afternoon was the peak hour for this, too. Mipha asked Link if he wanted to climb down to join in, and Link shook his head.

This is better, he said with conviction. Crowds are awful.

He was surprised when Mipha just replied with a kiss on the cheek, but it made him smile, cheeks hot and pleased.

That kiss led into another, and another, going from cheeks to mouth to neck until Mipha finally stopped Link’s hands before they could wander too far, both of them panting against each other’s skin.

“Not on a rooftop,” Mipha scolded quietly, but she was giggling, and Link actually grinned at her.

Sorry, he said, only meaning it a little bit, but he did keep his hands outside of her clothes after that.

The date was brought to a halt when the sky finally opened and it began to rain, showering the castle and the town and sending people scurrying to their homes and the insides of shops. Mipha squeaked, cheeks flushed.

I think that might be a signal from Hylia, she said playfully, and Link laughed.

We could go back to the castle, he suggested, nodding down at the bridge, where a good handful of people were hastily crossing back.

I’m in no hurry, Mipha said, but then her flush deepened, and she added, eyes glimmering with mischief, But if we did, we could find some privacy.

That took a moment for Link to process, but then he grinned at her, gave her one last kiss on the cheek, and then turned back to the route they’d taken up to the roof, helping her back down. Then they were on their way back to the castle.

Have you dated anyone before? Link asked on a whim, on their way into the castle. Mipha glanced over at him, surprised.

A couple of times. Why? Have you?

A couple of times, Link echoed, thinking of his fleeting relationship with Paya, and the casual on-again-off-again arrangement he’d had with a traveling Gerudo girl. I was just wondering. You seem confident.

I come by it honestly, Mipha said breezily, and winked at him. Link’s heart skipped a beat, and his mind snapped back to the present.

Link led Mipha to his room in the castle, lit the fireplace to give them some warmth and light, and after that he somehow ended up on his back, and his hands were mostly too busy to talk after that.

Chapter Text

Link felt flustered. No one had ever really prompted her to explain before; usually when she mentioned it, people were either too indulgent or, occasionally, too uncomfortable to ask her to elaborate.

I’m not really attached to the idea of being a boy, Link tried to explain, guiding Hush with his knees as she focused on her sign. I mean, it’s easier, because that’s how people know me already. But it’s like a set of clothes. I can change them if I want to. I just usually don’t.

Urbosa, at least, didn’t look skeptical – or worse, mocking – like some of the few other Gerudo that this had come up with. (Except for Vilia, of course.) What makes you change them?

It’s usually to visit Gerudo Town, Link admitted bashfully. I don’t think about it that much. But sometimes I’ll do it for a night out in Hateno too. She hummed, surprised by the thought. I suppose now I could in Castle Town, if I wanted.

Am I invited, or are you just going with M-i-p-h-a? Grace asked, taking great care to form each letter, eyes sparkling teasingly. Link flushed, reaching down to tug at her skirt, and smiled despite herself.

The dress she’d settled on was a thick, sturdy piece, pretty green fabric with brown and yellow accents, and the tailor had promised that it should hold enchantment quite well. She’d have to visit Kaysa soon. She’d even braided her hair differently today, with some help from Grace, who had taken Link’s fumbling explanation with a thoughtful smile.

It had flowers in it. She was very pleased.

Six of one, half a dozen of the other, Link answered at last, smiling back at Grace. It’s not like I’m going to go out just once.

Good, Grace said firmly, and nudged her horse to speed it a little along the path.

Gender fluidity has always been rather difficult for me to grasp as a Gerudo, Urbosa admitted, smiling faintly in amusement. Link cocked her head, and Urbosa elaborated, Traditionally, Gerudo have two sexes but only one gender, which makes the entire concept irrelevant on a personal level – at that point, culturally, it becomes equivalent to very little concept of gender at all. The word v-a-i is nearly synonymous with sister, and v-o-e with outsider. But that does not leave much room for transition.

Link hummed, interested.

I knew a half-Gerudo woman who had some interesting thoughts on it, she said. Urbosa arched an eyebrow, and Link shifted a little to better face her. V-i-l-i-a, she lived in the bazaar. I only knew she was half-Gerudo because she had more masculine features than a full Gerudo tends to... and also because she told me, but that’s not the point. She told me that she always felt that her identity as a woman was intimately tied to her identity as a Gerudo – to question one was to question the other. But she also wore a veil to cover most of her face. She said that it made her anxious when people argued.

Urbosa hummed thoughtfully. That’s very interesting, yes. It concerns me that she stayed outside of Gerudo Town. Did she feel welcome there?

She went in and out a lot, Link assured her. I don’t know her reasons for living in the bazaar. But she was a tailor, and I know she got good business there. That might have been it. She smiled a little. Vilia gave me my first set of Gerudo clothes too, though I got a couple more so I could have some different colors.

Do you think I could find some? Grace asked hopefully, and Urbosa immediately gave her a small, warm smile.

Certainly, she assured Grace. Vai are always welcome to share our clothing.

They reached Gerudo Stable then, and Link paid the fee to let them stable their horses, leaving them to walk to the bazaar and the town.

Are there many monsters on the path in this time? Link asked Urbosa. She hummed and shook her head.

Enough that you’d best keep an eye out, but I wouldn’t expect to run into any. Vai who carry weapons tend to be those that like exploring the further reaches of the desert. She nodded at the distance, and Link let herself smile.

So you and I might run into some, then.

Urbosa gave her a small smile back and nodded. Unless you plan to outrun them, she said, eyes glittering with mirth. I hear you’ve worked up quite the case of cabin fever. Link shrugged sheepishly. That’s fine. It’ll be a fun exercise, I think.

Link grinned at her, and then looked over at Grace. Will you be alright on your own for a few days?

Grace laughed. I still feel like I should be asking you that. Yes, I’ll be fine. I’ve been wanting to see Gerudo Town for years, so I don’t think I’ll mind staying a while. Just make sure to come back safe.

Link felt a warm glow, and she nodded firmly.

Don’t get too ahead of yourselves, Urbosa said. We’ve got a little way to go yet.

Link nodded quickly, and then turned to scan the horizon, watching for lizalfos.

They reached the bazaar before too much longer. Most of the tourists here were men; women usually preferred to move on to Gerudo Town itself, though there were still a few. It was the hawkers and vendors that really threw Link for a loop; she was used to seeing a certain set of faces lounging by their goods, and she was unexpectedly saddened to think that she’d never see any of them again. Emri, Maike, Rhondson, and Vilia were all very far away.

A few loud claps startled Link out of her thoughts, and she looked over to see Grace, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Urbosa was smiling indulgently, and Grace shifted from foot to foot for a minute, and then set off at a brisk walk, looking at everything.

Link relaxed, smiled, and followed just behind her, glancing over the goods.

As seemed to be the case everywhere, there was a larger range of products than Link remembered. One stall was even selling the jewelry that Link herself normally only found in town. Another sold elixirs – heat resistance, cold resistance, and electro. Grace started to head toward that one, and without thinking Link reached out to stop her, and then flicked through his slate while she cocked her head. After a second, he popped out a heat resistance elixir and caught it in one hand, then offered it to her.

That should keep you cool for the day, she said. That was what you were looking for, wasn’t it?

Grace chuckled and nodded, cautiously sipping at the elixir and wincing at the taste. Yeah. It’s too hot to be wearing this many clothes. She blushed when she realized what she’d said, giving Link a sheepish grin, but she just laughed. Grace’s smile eased. Is the city this hot? I might need a couple more of these if I’m gonna spend the week here.

Link shook her head. There’s a lot of shade in the city, and fountains too. I think those take most of the heat. And the Gerudo are nice about letting you take a break inside if you need.

Link, we’ve talked about you walking into people’s houses without asking, Grace said, and she was trying to look severe, but her eyes were sparkling with laughter. Link shrugged and grinned.

I must have forgotten, she joked, surprising herself with the ease of it.

Then you must want to hear it again, Grace said, and the next few minutes slipped by with Link holding back laughter, nodding solemnly as Grace gave her an exaggerated lecture on the importance of not walking into people’s homes while they weren’t looking.

Link forgot all of it as soon as she said it. As far as she was concerned, if she could find a way to get there, it was fair game.

Eventually they kept going, and spent a fun half hour weaving through the stalls and resting by the oasis. By the time Grace was finally ready to move on, Link was fidgeting impatiently with her skirt. She really wanted to get to running through the highlands.

You’re not going to be able to hold on long enough for us to go shopping, are you? Grace asked Link ruefully. Link shook her head immediately.

Not a chance, she said, only a little sorry for it. But we can do it afterward. It’ll be fun, and I’ll have a lot more patience.

Grace reached up, and before Link could react, she tweaked her nose, leaving Link blinking at her in confusion. Grace smiled. Never change, she said. Okay, afterward. That’ll give me time to get you a surprise too.

Link gave her a bright smile and bobbed her head once, and then they were on their way to Gerudo Town.

True to her word, as soon as they passed into Gerudo Town, Link was itching to set off. She bounced in place and gave Urbosa an impatient look, and Urbosa snorted.

Sometimes it’s obvious you’re still a child, she said with amusement. Let me show your sister where the inn is, and then we can go.

Link clapped her hands twice, considered the noise and bustle of Gerudo Town’s market, and shook her head. I can wait at the west entrance.

You need desert clothes, silly vai, Urbosa said. Link bit her lip and glanced unhappily toward the market, and Grace ‘hmph’ed in comprehension.

Is it loud or crowded in there? she asked Urbosa. Urbosa raised an eyebrow and nodded. Then she definitely can’t go in there when she’s antsy like this, she’ll crawl out of her skin. Is there somewhere quieter?

Urbosa softened immediately. I know a place. To Link, It’s by the east entrance. You can go wait there, I’ll take you afterward.

Relieved, Link gave Urbosa a sharp nod, waved at Grace, and then darted off. By the east gate, she crawled up onto some boxes, hopped onto a sun roof, and ended up on top of the outer wall, dangling her feet off the side. There was a little more space up there, and she felt immediately better for it.

Not ten minutes passed before Urbosa arrived and beckoned Link down, and she slid off and landed on her feet, crouching to absorb the impact. Urbosa led her down a couple of alleys, and it only took a minute for Link to realize they were heading to the GSC. She hadn’t realized it already existed in this time.

Sure enough, Urbosa stopped by the appropriate door and murmured the password through the slot, and it opened to admit her. She beckoned Link with a smirk, and Link didn’t hesitate before darting inside.

It was quieter in there, though there was still a low murmur of conversation, and she could smell incense on the air.

“Regular clothes or armor?” Urbosa asked Link. Link considered.

Light armor if they sell it, she said after a moment. Plate armor is too painful to wear outside of hard battle though.

Urbosa gave her a sympathetic glance, then waved and led her toward the back. There was the full mannequin of forbidden voe armor, still recognizable despite the slightly different design. There were some regular clothes, pretty flowing wrapped garments that Link would have to take a closer look at another time.

There was also another of vai armor, which Link liked; that had been restricted to the guard in her time. It was heavy leather accented with dyed carvings, and wrapped all the way from shoulders to hip, cheekily contoured to match a natural waist. There were plates like a vest bolstering the defense, along with gauntlets and greaves. Some light, loose trousers underneath that.

It looks perfect, Link said decisively.

As soon as the armor was on, Link rented a sand seal and took off at a dash. To her credit, Urbosa didn’t protest; she went to get her own as soon as she saw Link at the stall, and she wasn’t far behind while Link wove haphazardly through the desert.

To Link’s surprise, there were still just as many ruins as she remembered; apparently most of them were from long before even the current time. The sandstorms weren’t as violent as Link remembered, though she still steered far around, and eventually, she veered east and headed for the Champion’s Gate by the Lomei Labyrinth.

Exploring the broad strokes of the desert took them into the late evening, and Link was beaming at the rush of wind in her ears even when the sand whipped at her face. She shot by lizalfos hidden in the ground and twice molduga tried to pursue her when she came too close, but none of them caught her.

She loved sand sealing.

When she reached the eastern steppes, she hopped off her shield and kicked it into the air, catching it a moment later to put it on her back. She knelt down and gave the seal a few head rubs, and then nudged it back toward the city, urging it along with a brisk swat. By the time Urbosa caught up, it was heading back, its reins trailing along behind.

Urbosa followed Link’s gaze up the bluffs, sighed, and gave her sand seal the same send-off Link had. Link hummed, pleased, and then took off again, heading toward the wall to hop and climb up one of the more sloped portions.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of that day, which Link was grateful for. She would have preferred to take this journey alone, in the mood she was in, but Urbosa kept up, and she didn’t try to redirect her.

The rough landscape of the mountain forced Link to slow down from her hard run, but she took her fun where she could. There were plenty of places to climb high and glide back down, and those places gave her a good vantage point to survey the area around them, looking for any places where solid ground replaced the chasms and gaps from her memory.

Her shoulders ended up sore and protesting, aggravated by the liberal use of her glider, but that wasn’t enough to damage her good mood. After the third time, Urbosa even stopped following her up, and waited to see which direction she’d head before following at her own pace.

They came to a halt at the base of the high pillar where Vah Naboris would watch the castle, and Link flopped down on her belly and built a fire, humming in pleasure at the lingering rush of the day.

Urbosa sat down hard only a few feet away. Link folded her arms and set her cheek against her elbow, watching the fire. After a moment, Urbosa huffed a laugh.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to split up, little vai?” she suggested, with a hint of wry affection in her voice. “It seems you have your own idea of how to move through the area.”

Link was nodding before she had time to finish. She sat up, offered Urbosa some food, and took out her own plate before she said, Low ground, high ground?

“I don’t see why not,” Urbosa said warmly.

It took a few days to cover the whole of the Gerudo Highlands. Link was surprised to find that the area around Wasteland Tower seemed to be as she remembered it, so that hadn’t been a dig site. Most of the road to the desert had been intact too – there were some obvious dig spots, but none big enough to fit Vah Naboris.

Urbosa was covering the areas at the base of the highlands, checking for solid rock and earth where Link had indicated gaps, and that left Link free to roam the high ground. The area around Gerudo Tower was an obvious dig site, with no hole in sight and only a fraction of the exposed length Link expected from the tower – perhaps a hint from the people who came before. Link took note of that as her strongest candidate for Vah Naboris, but there were no guarantees, so she kept going.

She had to change into her Rito armor to move on to the highlands, but honestly, there was never a time when she minded that; it was one of the coziest outfits she owned. She was dismayed to realize that she hadn’t spent enough time in the highlands to be completely certain about all of the areas; it was simply too snowy for her to have familiarized herself with the sights like she had Zora’s Domain.

Still, Vah Naboris was massive, and frankly, she wouldn’t be at all disappointed to have them miss a few guardians here and there. She stuck to noting down any big gaps she found missing, and moved on.

The statue of the eighth heroine was buried, and Link noted that down special; it would be a shame to see it damaged. So was the entrance puzzle to the Keeha Yoog shrine, and he noted that down as well.

A snowstorm kicked up, obscuring the area around them, which just made Link’s life difficult. But there were wildberry bushes and ore deposits and even a frost talus, which Link hadn’t been expecting in this time – though it did remind her to dispose of the pebblet that must be lurking under the castle. She wondered if she could still sell jewels in Gerudo Town, but even if she couldn’t, they’d be good to upgrade jewelry with. If she was lucky, she’d even be able to take some of her family to one of the Great Fairies and give them another boost.

You could never be too careful.

She was still thinking about that when she veered down out of curiosity, trudging through ankle-deep snow that crunched under her feet. It looked like the area she remembered as being the back entrance to the Yiga hideout was buried too. Did that make it a dig site? She had to wonder.

Link looked up, and caught a glimpse of red through the whipping, swirling snow. In a split second, her sword came out, and when her eyes focused, she could make out a Yiga, mere yards away – from their stance, just as taken aback to see her.

They had a more solid build than most Yiga foot soldiers, closer to a blademaster. But if Link really had to guess, this person was even higher than that – perhaps the Yiga leader prior to Kohga.

Later, Link wouldn’t remember which of them had lunged first. She was glad for her Hylian shield; the Yiga wielded two katanas, and moved them in expert coordination. She wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to fend them off with only one blade and her agility to avoid them. As it was, she struck one aside with her shield and stabbed toward them with her sword, and still had to duck and weave around them when they brought up their other blade.

“Not so gentle this time, Hylian hero?” the Yiga said evenly, when they broke apart again. Link’s eyes narrowed. She hadn’t seen him in Yiga gear before, but she recognized his voice instantly. Sooga.

Far away from her brother and sister, Link had no mercy for a Yiga.

Without replying, Link lunged forward again, and they clashed in the middle of the storm, with nothing but snow for miles. Even the cliffs and the skyline were out of sight; it was just them and the crushed snow nearby, and the flakes seemed to muffle the clang of sword on sword on shield.

It was a hard fight. Harder than Link could ever remember having with someone her size. Ganon, the Blights, even lynels had size and overwhelming power on their side, and Link was hard-pressed to keep up with them but for sheer stubborn resolve. Sooga did not have any of that power.

Sooga was simply skilled.

Ultimately, of course, that could only amount to so much. Link ended up astride Sooga, his stomach crushed under one of her knees, his left wrist under the other, and his right arm twisted behind his head. Link’s sword rested just above his throat, and Link stared hard into the smooth, porcelain surface of the inverted Sheikah mask.

Sooga laughed, ragged and bitter.

“You’ve earned your reputation, hero,” he said roughly, tilting his head a little to make space between his throat and the blessed blade. “Go on. Do what you would not in front of your siblings. I die with honor.”

Impa’s voice came into his head, unbidden. It’s an honorable death.

Link scowled at the porcelain mask, and couldn’t for the life of her work out why she was so reluctant to execute the man beneath her. She’d never hesitated with a Yiga before. Given the chance, she certainly wouldn’t have with Kohga.

But.

(Sheikah believe in loyalty.)

“What’s wrong?” Sooga challenged, without trying to buck Link off. “Are you hesitating, hero?”

She was. In other circumstances, she might have wanted to talk to Sooga, while he was neutralized and harmless beneath her. But she didn’t have an easy way to speak to him, and she didn’t trust him enough to try.

Finally, she slid her sword swiftly across his throat. It left only a thin, shallow line of blood, an unmistakable admonition. Then, before Sooga could react, she pushed herself up, jumped, and let Revali catch and carry her higher into the air. She looked down over her shoulder, clumsily sheathing her sword, and saw Sooga sit up and turn his head to follow her, one hand on his throat.

Chapter Text

I wanted to make you guess what it was, but I couldn’t think of a good enough way to show it off, Grace told Link, and then reached into her bag and plopped a neat, gold-trimmed box between them on the edge of the pool.

Curious, Link picked it up and examined it. It had three small compartments like drawers, latched so they would hold closed during travel. She popped one open and looked inside, and once she understood, she had to drop it to her lap so she could clap a few times, delighted. When she looked up, Grace was smiling.

You wear your hair pretty much the same way all the time, Grace explained, then reached up to flick one of Link’s small fringe braids. And I know you, you won’t want to change it that much. But you might like to change it a little.

Link crooned happily and nodded, and without hesitation, she reached up and pulled her hair out of its ponytail. She added the plain cord to the box, and then picked out a bright red scrunchie and slipped it over her wrist. A few moments later, her hair was up again, and though she couldn’t see it, she felt pleased just knowing that it was there.

The first drawer was all full of hair ties, a few elastics, cords with different dangling accessories, big scrunchies like the one Link had just put in. The second was hair clips, dotted with pearls or glass gems or tiny clay shapes. The third was spirals, with charms of stamped or shaped metal.

I love it, Link told Grace earnestly, a little bit late. She just grinned at her.

I knew you would, she said warmly.

Urbosa had disappeared into the chief’s chambers, probably to attend to business while she could, and that left Link and Grace to spend a few hours wandering around the town. Link tried a few new foods she’d never come across before, and Grace found some clothing that seemed to please her, which reminded Link that she’d wanted some casual Gerudo clothing too.

A Gerudo stranger found Grace showing Link the display of hair accessories at the jeweler’s, and she taught them how to rebraid Grace’s hair into a pretty spiraled flower style. Link wasn’t sure she’d be able to replicate it on her own, but she loved it all the same.

At the end of the day, Link separated herself from Grace to disappear down an alley, following the back way until she found the familiar goddess statue, all the way on the eastern edge of the city.

Mauve wasn’t there, of course, and Link found that she missed her. She was probably around somewhere, but Link wasn’t even sure she’d recognize the old Gerudo at this age.

Still, she sat next to the statue and leaned against the wall, bent her head, and prayed.

Dear mother Hylia, goddess of love and light, please let me speak my worries, my grief, and my hopes.

I’ve been researching Sheikah history recently. It’s given me a lot to think about. I haven’t decided if I have an opinion about it yet, but I like knowing more about where some of my friends are coming from. I don’t like that a Yiga drew my attention to their history, but that doesn’t mean they’re not worth thinking about. I think I want to look more into the Yiga Clan’s history next. I only know a little about how the split happened, and Sooga implied that there was... more.

Mother, do you know why I spared Sooga? I don’t.

But I shouldn’t ruminate for too long. I’m starting to feel more comfortable with my family, mother. I can’t even express how happy that makes me. I didn’t... I don’t know. It’s something I didn’t even know I wanted. Dad brought me down from a nightmare last week, and Eloise stayed with me while I was sick, and Grace and I spent an evening in the market. We’re still learning to work with each other, but... It’s going well. It’s going really, really well.

There’s Mipha too. She’s both like and unlike how I remember her. Remembering her before was like a dream, and I knew who she was but I didn’t know her, really. But now... mother, I think I already want to marry her again. She’s sweet and soft and strong and earnest and I love her so much.

I’m really happy that I’m here. Thank you, mother. Bid me well as I walk my path.

Link returned to the castle about a week and a half after leaving, only to be swept into a wave of bustling activity. The senior guard had left for the training ground, leaving the junior guard to watch the royal family. There were Rito scouts for Link to work with and a team of Goron miners, both wanting to know where they should look for dig sites. Link was a little disappointed by the thought that he might not get to explore with Revali or Daruk, but he gave what information he could. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t have other chances to spend time with them.

When Honey finally met Vito properly, it was by accident. He went home after going over maps with the miners, something that still felt odd without Selwyn, and was surprised to find guests in the living room. It took him a moment to remember their names, Vito and his daughter Sera.

“I understand that these weren’t the circumstances you were expecting when you began collecting these,” Eileen explained quietly, looking sympathetic to Vito’s faintly dumbfounded expression. “But would it trouble you to play your songs to Link?”

Vito looked over at little Link and Sera. Little Link had his back deliberately to the conversation, nervously lining up blocks by size instead of playing with Sera. Sera was plopped down next to him, looking lost.

Without hesitation, Honey crossed the room behind Eileen and went to sit by them. Sera jumped sharply, giving him a wary look, and Honey offered her a small smile.

S-down, wasn’t it? he signed gently, and waited for her hesitant nod before continuing, Do you want to talk about what Mom and V-i-t-o are talking about, or do you want to play?

Sera cast little Link a fleeting glance, and Honey caught a flash of worry past the mixed uncertainty and tension. I don’t get it, she signed at last.

Honey hummed reassuringly and looked at little Link. Do you mind if I tell her? I think it’ll make both of you more comfortable if she understands what’s happening.

Little Link squirmed, stacked a few blocks by color instead of size, and nodded.

Honey looked at Sera. What are you most confused about? Me and Honey Nut, or Honey Nut and Vito?

Honey Nut showed me his hand, Sera said haltingly. And I guess that means that Dad’s songs are for him. And you’re him, but... from the future? Honey nodded encouragingly. Sera looked at little Link, then at Honey. How, I mean- why is it Honey Nut? Dad says it just is. But why wouldn’t it be, I don’t know, someone older?

Honey hummed in realization. It’s because Honey Nut always had the soul of the hero, he explained. It isn’t that he was born, and then the soul of the hero picked him. The hero is reborn with every cycle, so Honey Nut is the same hero that has existed in every cycle before us. That’s why your dad said he just is.

Sera chirped dubiously, feathers pricking and settling unhappily. Honey Nut doesn’t like bananas though, she said. Or school, or loud noises.

Honey let out a startled laugh and smiled at Sera. Neither do I, he said. He’s still... how do I put this? He’s still your friend, and he’ll always be that. He’s not a deity. Hylia looked at all of the people who would ever exist, and then picked one person who she thought would be really, really good at being a hero. But the hero is still just a person.

But you’re not my friend anymore, Sera said. Honey and little Link both flinched, and Sera continued, looking Honey in the eye, You don’t even recognize me.

Honey stared at her for a moment, and then softened, exhaustion sweeping over him.

I know, he said. I’m sorry. I was very badly injured my first time fighting the Calamity, and I ended up losing my entire memory. Most of it never came back. I didn’t even recognize Dad when I saw him. It’s not because I never cared about you.

Fear flickered across Sera’s face, and she shot little Link an anxious look.

He’d like it a lot if you kept being his friend, Honey added, now that he thought he understood the problem. Nine years old isn’t old enough for a destiny like this, you’re right. So right now he’s still trying to be a kid. You can help him with that, can’t you?

There was the crash of relief that they’d both been clumsily groping toward. Sera nodded eagerly, and in another minute, she was with little Link, and she was coaxing him into building a tall, wobbly tower instead of the long, low rows he’d been working on. Honey smiled at both of them, and then stood up to go check on Vito and Eileen.

Vito’s eyebrows were high on his face. “You handled that very well,” he said, with obvious bemusement. Honey shrugged, a little embarrassed.

Honey Nut speaks fondly of Sera, he said. It would be a shame if they stopped being friends because they were both scared of Honey Nut’s future.

Vito nodded. “I’ve never seen Sera so serious about anything,” he admitted. “Normally it’s an effort to get her to pay attention long enough to eat breakfast.”

The corner of Honey’s mouth twitched up. Something they have in common, then.

To say the least, Eileen agreed warmly. Thank you for stepping in, I was worried about the direction they seemed to be heading.

Honey hummed sheepishly, and watched little Link play with Sera for a few minutes, little Link pulling blocks free from the bottom to add to the top, before Vito drew his attention again.

“Eileen says you’ve heard my songs,” he said, slow and stilted. “Does that mean that I played them for you, eventually?”

Honey shook his head apologetically. It was another Rito bard, K-a-s-s. I think he might have been your student. He always said he wanted to carry out his teacher’s dream of playing the songs for the hero.

Vito chuckled. “As long as you heard them, I suppose,” he said. “How did he react?”

For some reason, the question knocked the breath out of Honey, and all at once he missed Kass terribly. He loved very nearly everyone he’d met on his journey, but few had been as kind to him as Kass had.

He was very sweet, Honey said after a moment. He pretended the whole time not to know who I was, but he waited near every pedestal to play his songs for me.

Vito furrowed his brow. “Why would he pretend?” he asked, in a slight undertone that took Honey a moment to understand – too quiet, probably, for little Link to catch.

He met me really early in my journey, Honey explained. When I was still pretty skittish and jumpy. As far as I can tell, he took one look at me and decided to be gentle.

“Then he certainly understood the nature of his duty,” Vito said, clearly pleased. “I suppose I must wait a few years myself, then, for our own Link to be ready?”

Honey smiled and shook his head. No. The shrines are... a very light part of his duty, you know? They’re puzzles. Most of them are very fun. He’s tried a few of them already, and he liked them. He shrugged. Kass’ shrines were some of my favorites. I think Honey Nut will like them too.

And if he’s not ready for one? Eileen prompted, brow pinched with worry. Honey glanced at her and softened.

He can leave and come back anytime, he promised. I did that with quite a few. Major tests of strength always triggered my battlesickness at first, so I didn’t really do any of them until late in my journey.

It wasn’t as reassuring as he’d meant it to be; Eileen looked even more stressed at the mention. But did they have to be so hard on you?

Honey nudged her, bumping their arms together. It was really okay. The monks always had a really good sense of my state of being, I think. All of the hardest shrines were also the ones that left me far better off than I was when I came. The major tests of strength were what let me work up to facing guardians again. Every time I beat one, I felt more confident and less afraid.

Vito smiled hesitantly, and after a moment, ventured, “I haven’t done all of the work I intended to, but there is one song whose pedestal is, I believe, within a day’s journey. The song of flight?”

Honey tilted his head, considering. The one about a Rito in love with the wind? Yes, I think that one’s nearest.

“Wonderful,” Vito said with delight, and Honey was sure that he was talking about more than just the shrine’s location.

Funnily enough, Honey hadn’t really made the connection before – if so many of the royal guard had been able to recognize him by his behavior, then his younger self must have spent time around them. But there little Link was, on the archery range getting tips from a few of the guards on how to shoot in the rain.

Honey supposed that there wouldn’t be a better time for it. It was pouring around the castle; Honey always forgot just how much it rained here. Luckily, he didn’t have much to do at the moment, which left him to take some ralis root and sit on the sidelines, watching little Link train with idle curiosity. The rain soaked into him, making his clothing stick to his skin, cool and dragging.

Honey didn’t recognize the guard that was working with little Link, but it definitely wasn’t the first time. There was trust in the way little Link shifted and responded to corrections, listening attentively and occasionally dropping his bow to ask questions.

“I didn’t realize it until now,” Zelda said quietly, making Honey looked over at her. She had a book open in her lap, but she wasn’t reading it; she was looking at little Link too. “But I’ve seen him around before, I think. A lot of the children of the guards will train out here with them sometimes.”

Honey hummed in agreement. It made sense; a lot of them probably wanted to follow in their parents’ footsteps. Zelda looked at him, and he said, Dad usually trains him at home. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dad with a bow, so... He lazily indicated the guard nudging little Link further back from the target.

Zelda let out a soft ‘huh.’ “I guess I never thought about how the hero learned to fight.”

Honey hummed again, and then sat up straight, gaze sweeping across the field. A second later, he swept Zelda up by the arms, holding her tightly, and dashed across the yard to where little Link was while she squealed in fright. He all but dropped her in his haste, drew his sword and shield, and turned. The guard next to him had taken up his bow as well, turning the same way.

A dozen bursts of orange light flickered and flashed across the field, signaling the arrival of more Yiga to join the ones that were already rushing across.

It wasn’t as chaotic as it might have been with a less disciplined contingent. While only the junior division of the royal guard was here, the requirements for them were still stringent. They rushed to intercept the Yiga while Honey and the guard beside him shifted to protect little Link and Zelda. They had just enough time to brace before the wave hit.

After a few minutes, Honey was able to pick out the centerpieces of the invading group: Sooga was in the middle, batting guards aside with only moderate effort- and so was, unmistakably, Kohga, right beside Sooga. He must have been older than Honey realized.

Honey spared little Link and Zelda a glance – they had room to breathe, the guard rising to keep back the rank-and-file of the Yiga. Little Link had his fragile practice sword out and ready, holding tight to Zelda’s hand with a stormy expression Honey recognized as his own even on the younger’s face.

Honey turned and stepped up to face Kohga and Sooga, getting between them and the two children.

“There’s the Hylian puppet we’ve been looking for!” Kohga jeered. Honey couldn’t help but notice that he held himself in a far more battle-ready manner than Honey remembered. “Why don’t you be a good boy and let us at the royal brat?”

Honey clenched his jaw, attention shifting minutely to Kohga, so he was startled when Sooga lunged, moving quicker than Honey could easily follow, so that he only caught the dual swords at the last moment, locking them between his sword and shield. He shoved Sooga away and stepped aside, braced, and swung broad and vicious toward them.

The guard was more than able to keep most of the Yiga occupied, but that still left Honey with Kohga and Sooga, and he grimly realized that against both of them, even he was hard-pressed. Sooga was fast and Kohga was powerful, and the rain sent a throbbing ache through Honey’s body, which bracing against Sooga’s blows only aggravated. Kohga instead used forceful blasts of energy, and more than once sent Honey tumbling. Twice Honey was so occupied parrying Sooga that he let Kohga through his guard, and caught a vicious serrated blade across his torso.

The second time, Honey forced himself to push through and move faster. Time slowed around him, and he sheathed his sword, drew his bow, and fired three shock arrows each at the two Yiga before he put it back, slammed into the ground, and rolled, getting up before they’d recovered from the shock. Blood soaked into his side and down his leg, and he had to keep himself from pressing down on it in pain. Instead, he downed a speed elixir, grabbed his sword, and stepped back into the fight.

Sword split skin and blood spilled over red Yiga uniforms, and Honey brought up his shield to catch Kohga’s demon carver, then stepped aside from Sooga’s swords. He turned his head, and accidentally met the blank face of Sooga’s mask.

Honey snarled at him.

“Why would we let this opportunity slip by, hero?” Sooga murmured to him, just audible over the rain, and then slammed forward. Honey dove and rolled, his bow snapping in the process, and knew before he looked up that he wouldn’t be on his feet before they were on him.

Honey snapped, and Urbosa’s bellow hailed the crash of lightning around them, buying Honey the time to stand. He left his broken bow behind, raised his hands, and let a bow of light form with his draw, aiming at Sooga.

“Keep going,” Zelda murmured to him, in the split second her ghost had before it flickered away. The arrow of light flashed forward, boring through Sooga’s shoulder and out the other side. Sooga shouted in pain, stumbling visibly.

Honey almost missed it, his side on fire and adrenaline making his blood roar in his ears, but Kohga wavered, and then he grabbed Sooga by the arm and shouted, “Fall back!”

The next second, all of the Yiga were gone, disappearing in bursts of orange sparks.

Honey took a moment to process the shift, and then let his knees fold, pressing his hand against his bloodied tunic with a groan, his head spinning.

Looked like the Yiga had decided to act on their new intel.

Chapter Text

“Sit! Honey, sit!”

Rather than the sound of the door, it was her youngest insistently directing Honey like a dog that drew Eileen’s attention, and she abandoned Mary in the kitchen to go check on them. She had to suppress a gasp.

Little Link looked anxious and worried, and rightly so; Honey looked awful, pale and wan, and Eileen could see bloodstains in his tunic. Honey let little Link push him onto the sofa, grunting with the impact, and little Link climbed up beside him.

“Mom!” little Link called out, without looking away from Honey. “Mom, Mom, Mom!”

“Right here, sweetheart,” Eileen said instinctively, and forced herself to move forward. Mary was right behind her, but all of her attention was on Honey, a sweeping sort of horror making her stomach twist. She knelt down in front of him, hands steady, and automatically started working off his tunic. “Easy, Honey, it’s alright, we’ll get a potion in you and you’ll feel much better, understand?”

Honey laughed breathlessly, squirming in a vague attempt to cooperate. He grunted instead of replying, hissed in pain, and then lifted his arms to let her pull his tunic over his head. Eileen did without thinking, and it knocked the breath out of her.

Not on her father, not on her husband, not on strangers in springs- never had Eileen seen such scarring. She felt nauseous.

“What happened?” she heard herself ask, pressing her hand to one of the open wounds on automatic. Her eyes didn’t know whether to look at the new wounds or the old ones. “Mary, get some cloths and water, we need to wash these-”

Yiga attack in the castle training grounds, Honey said, and then rubbed his face, looking exhausted and strained. Sorry, I should have gone-

“Don’t be sorry, you came right home like you should,” Eileen said sharply, and reached out to run her fingers through her youngest’s hair. “Sweetheart, are you okay, did you get hurt?”

Little Link shook his head quickly, his eyes wide and round. There was blood on him, and Eileen wondered whether it was Honey’s or- someone else’s. Goddess, don’t let Link have blood he’d spilt on him.

Eileen pressed a quick kiss to little Link’s forehead, and urged him closer until he huddled against her side as she looked back up at Honey. “You keep potions on you, don’t you?”

Honey nodded, fumbling with his slate for a few clumsy seconds before a red bottle fell out. Eileen murmured in relief, and then Mary was hurrying back in, her eyes glassy and wet in a way that was worryingly unlike her daughter, but bearing wet rags that Eileen reached for immediately.

She wiped at one of the gashes, trying to be careful, but Honey hissed, twitching under her touch. She murmured an apology and kept going, pressing down to discourage bleeding. One hiss dissolved into a whine, and Eileen kissed his wrist apologetically, anxiety churning in her stomach.

“Sorry, Honey, but we have to wash them,” she chided without thinking, like he’d scraped himself on the road. Honey subsided immediately, clearly trying not to squirm. Little Link and Mary watched over each shoulder, hovering fretfully. When she was satisfied, she dumped a measure of the elixir over one of the cloths and pressed it to the deeper wound, then handed the bottle to Honey. “Drink it, dear, you’ll feel better.”

Honey sipped at it meekly, and his gaze dropped to her hands over his wound. There was an awful, lonely sort of longing in his eyes that said that Honey was still far, far too unused to being cared for.

Under her ministrations, the wounds stopped bleeding, scabbed over, and then slowly closed, leaving pale skin behind. Eileen started to relax, and then stiffened again, lifting her head to meet Honey’s still-hazy eyes.

“Are you in pain?” she asked, because all of Honey’s scars were spread in front of her, and it was raining, and the thought of her baby hurting quietly made her stomach turn.

Honey hesitated, eyes on hers, and then nodded, closing them. He was still panting despite being healed, quick and shallow. Yeah. Sorry. Hurts a lot.

“Mary-” Eileen started, and that was all it took before Mary was gone. She returned only a minute later, now with tears on her cheeks; Eileen would have to check on her as soon as Honey was settled. “Thank you, dear, sit down.”

Four units, Eileen remembered, and drew the dosage out before putting the dropper in Honey’s mouth without thinking. Honey accepted the medication meekly, and Eileen set it aside.

“And down,” she coached firmly, tugging on one of Honey’s arms. Under her guidance he laid down across the couch, subtly curled up, face still waxen. “Is that okay, Honey?”

...Yeah, Honey signed, though he was still stiff with discomfort. Thanks.

Eileen softened, kissed his cheek, and then turned back to little Link and cupped his face, stroking his cheeks gently with her thumbs. “I need to talk to your sister, sweetheart, but I’ll be back in a minute. Do you need anything before then?”

Little Link hesitated, and then hugged her tightly, giving her just a moment to feel his trembling body before he let go and climbed up beside Honey, sitting up as if to keep watch. Eileen had to smile softly.

Then she stood and held her hand out to Mary, and helped her to her feet, then into the kitchen, and then to sit at the table before she spoke softly. “Mary, what’s wrong?”

The winestain birthmark across Mary’s cheek was wrinkled, her face scrunching in distress. Mary started to speak, hiccupped, and whimpered instead, reaching up to scrub roughly at her face.

“He’s okay, right?” she asked desperately, without looking at Eileen. Eileen’s worry ratcheted up significantly. “I mean- Honey’s okay? He’s not that badly hurt?”

“He’s not badly hurt,” Eileen confirmed gently, still searching Mary’s face for answers. “I promise, Mary. He’s already all but fully healed, it was just a hard fight. He’ll be all better in the morning.”

Mary nodded jerkily, sniffled, and rubbed her cheek with the heel of her hand.

“Mary,” Eileen said softly, “did something happen?”

Mary’s breath hitched, and she said, “Honey asked me for a favor. Couple weeks ago.”

Then she started crying.

Honey drifted in and out of sleep for half of the rest of the day. It was the softest recovery he could remember having after a hard fight; usually he handled it on his own, at home if he was lucky or watching his back in the field if he couldn’t risk his progress. The deeper parts of the wound were slower to heal than the skin, so it was still hours before that stopped hurting, and then there was the rain.

Eileen stayed nearby even when the others went in and out, treading quietly as if trying not to disturb him. Honey paid her little mind when he was dozy, and talked to her a little when he woke up.

Why is it that Honey Nut talks? he asked after a while, drowsy and curious.

Sadness flashed across Eileen’s face, but she set her paper pad and charcoal down to answer; Honey caught a glimpse of a clumsy wolf’s silhouette before he was distracted.

I’d wondered if you still could, Eileen admitted. I don’t really know. He only talks when he’s comfortable, and he can’t at all when he’s upset. He tends to get mixed up if he tries to say too much at once, so he keeps it very short. If I had to guess, he still speaks because he simply isn’t under as much stress as you are.

Honey considered that. I guess that makes sense. I did kind of wake up a mess, so if he only speaks when he’s comfortable...

He didn’t finish, letting the thought die, and Eileen watched him for a few more moments before addressing him again, looking thoughtful now.

I’ve never asked, she said suddenly, because I didn’t want to push you. But I’ve been curious. How did you make yourself part of a kingdom that you didn’t even remember? You’ve mentioned having friends – what did you tell them?

Honey huffed a laugh, pushed himself upright with a slight wince, and replied, It was easier than you’d think. Hyrule was so fragmented by then that I didn’t stand out much at all. Most people never traveled between stables or villages, so anyone who went on the road was a stranger wherever they went. By the time anyone realized that no one knew where I’d come from, I was already a regular. So it didn’t matter. I was Link who cleared the roads and sold monster parts, and everyone knew me.

Eileen smiled at him, soft and affectionate. Of course. You make yourself known wherever you go. But what was it like for you?

Oh. Honey softened. It wasn’t so bad. I went anywhere I liked and talked to everyone I saw. I was really lost all the time at first, but it didn’t matter because I wasn’t trying to go anywhere in particular. I decided early on that I wouldn’t try to do anything until I’d gotten my bearings, so I didn’t. A smile flickered across his face. I found Satori Mountain because I followed Satori’s glow all night, over Hyrule field from Lake Kolomo. It took me weeks to find it again when I left.

It’s certainly beautiful enough to remember, Eileen said warmly. What were your friends like? You’ve mentioned Kass, and Selwyn told me about Teba.

She’d used his original S-win sign for Selwyn. He hid a smile in his elbow.

He told her about Yunobo and Riju and Sidon first, the faithful friends who had fought so hard against the beasts in their territory. Then about Beedle, the first person he’d met off the plateau, who’d bought a couple of apples from him to give him the rupees for a night at the stable. Hudson and how Tarrey Town had been built, and Bolson and Karson who checked on him every time he stayed in Hateno more than a night or two. Vilia. Paya. Dorian. Oliff and Flaxel.

It took him a long time to slow down, and longer to stop. But Eileen was smiling.

They must have been wonderful people, she said, when he finally let his hands drop. Do you miss them?

So much, Link admitted without hesitation, and in this moment he ached with grief. I can’t believe I’ll never see them again. But they’ll be a lot happier for it, too. It’ll be a kinder world for them.

You’re a very good friend, Eileen signed softly, with a much sadder smile. What about Zelda? You didn’t mention her.

Hadn’t he? Goddess. Well, he supposed that Zelda was in another category altogether. He tried to start, and stopped himself, and then tried again. How to explain Zelda? She’d saved his life after he’d saved hers. She missed the memory of him and loved who he’d grown into, and he’d adored her for every hard battle he’d fought to reach her. Every time he used Zelda’s Light, he thought of her.

Normally when he talked about his friends he told people what they loved and what they shared, but he found that for Zelda, all he could think of was everything they’d endured for each other. And that was such a terrible, unforgiving way to explain their bond.

Link had loved Zelda more than he ever had Mipha, and in such a vastly different way that it was laughable to compare the two at all.

Finally, he dropped his head into the crook of his arm and shook it.

I can’t, he said apologetically. I mean. I loved her more than anything. But I don’t know how to explain. We... shared a lot.

It was a horribly inadequate way of putting it, but Eileen sat beside him, cradled his head in one hand, and smiled down at him.

“I know, honey,” she said quietly. “Don’t worry. You can tell me anytime you like. And I’m so proud of you, for everything.”

Honey hadn’t realized that was what he wanted, but it made him smile in relief.

“Honey? Do you have a minute to talk to Selwyn and I?”

Honey cocked his head in curiosity, but he grunted affirmatively, straightening up from where he’d been settling down for the night. The trapdoor popped open, and Eileen came through first, then Selwyn. Selwyn closed the door again behind him.

Honey’s memory, at that moment, chose to remind him: serious talks took place in the attic. He stiffened uncomfortably, tracking the other two as they settled nearby. Selwyn had only come back that day; what had needed his attention so soon?

It’s alright, Eileen soothed, making him relax a little despite himself. You’re not in trouble.

He had to bite down a laugh. Yeah, remembered family or no remembered family, he wasn’t accepting a punishment from anyone. Whatever else he might be, Honey was not a child.

Eileen’s eyes glimmered with humor for a moment, perhaps catching some of that in his expression, but quickly turned serious again. Honey’s levity died just as quickly.

Selwyn’s fingers ghosted over his, drawing Honey’s attention over to him, and he said gently, We both know that you grew up too quickly. You’ve been through too much to ever truly be a child again, and I’m sorry for that. But with that understanding, Eileen and I need to ask you a favor. Honey cocked his head warily. You need to not pass that burden on to your sisters.

Something deep inside Honey bristled, and he tensed, his guard threatening to snap into place. I don’t understand.

“Easy, Link,” Selwyn murmured, squeezing Honey’s hand briefly before letting go again. But it was Eileen who elaborated.

When you’re overwhelmed, you need to come to Selwyn and I, not Mary or Grace or even Eloise, Eileen clarified, and then, quickly, It’s not that we don’t want you to confide in them at all. I think it’s wonderful that you’re rebuilding your relationship with your sisters. But you deal with heavy burdens, and your sisters are still young. They can’t take them for you, but Selwyn and I can.

Honey’s fingers twitched on his knees, and he felt skittish and unhappy, tempted by the window behind him and the rafters above. I don’t understand, he repeated insistently.

Eileen took a deep breath. Mary told me what you asked her to do.

Honey flinched.

It’s alright, Eileen repeated softly, though her eyes were clouded and dim. I understand. I don’t like it, you’re too much my baby for me to like it, but I understand. But you really scared Mary. She’s been having nightmares about keeping her promise to you. Honey, she’s sixteen. She’s never even lifted her knife to a monster. You asked for too much.

But- Honey started, and then cut himself off harshly, clasping his ankles so his hands wouldn’t shake. He understood, grudgingly. But. But.

(At sixteen, he’d been old enough for King Rhoam to point at the Calamity and say, fight.)

But you needed that promise to feel safe, Selwyn finished for him, with more insight than Honey had expected. Honey swallowed thickly, trying to bite down the terror bubbling up in his chest. I understand. And Honey, if that is what you need-

He reached down, took Honey’s hand, and held it tightly.

“I will make sure that nothing happens to you that you do not want,” Selwyn said quietly, with only the slightest waver in the beginning.

Honey met his eyes, and found that he believed him.

He swallowed again, nodded sharply, and then pulled away, not looking at either of them. I’m going to- I need to sleep in the park tonight. I’ll be back in the morning. Okay?

“Okay,” Selwyn murmured. “Goodnight, Honey.”

Chapter Text

No one told the soldiers who guarded the city walls anything important. Link was almost certain of it, because even months after Honey’s arrival, all of them still greeted him with pats on the head and honey candy and sometimes a bit of news.

The city wall was one of Link’s favorite places to go when he was alone. Sera got bored quickly, but Link liked to walk up and down the walkway where the soldiers kept watch, and he’d been doing it for so many years now that he was a familiar sight to them. He didn’t need to pick which turns to take, and he could stop whenever he wanted, dangle his legs over the wall, and look out to the horizon.

One day he’d be old enough to ride out on his own, and he could go as far as he wanted. To the ocean and back, through the mountains, over the desert- if he visited Rito Village, maybe he could even fly.

Link closed his eyes. He could feel the wind on his face, icy cold mountain air, and hear the rush in his ears. His cheeks would be whipped raw, swooping joy in his belly like swinging on a rope, only it would never stop. He could go as far and as long as he wanted, and reach places no one else had ever visited.

“What’re you thinking about, tyke?”

Startled, Link opened his eyes and looked up at the man who’d spoken, a soldier who’d previously been standing guard a few yards away. Link could see his smile past his helmet.

Link made a flapping motion with his arms, and the soldier laughed.

“Just like a Rito, huh?” he said warmly. “You’re close enough already, I think. You want to climb up there and sing like one? I don’t think anyone would mind.”

Link grunted happily, hopped in place, and nodded, and then scurried away, climbing up the ladder and onto one of the watchtowers. From there, he poked his head over to wall again, looked over the field, and brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly.

He knew the notes for a lot of songs that he’d never heard before. He didn’t worry about it; they gave him plenty of music to choose from.

He whistled into the open air, and he thought about magical forests, and sunlight, grief and healing, a beautiful bay mare that he saw in his dreams. Link loved music. Sometimes, he thought about learning to play.

Link finished a song that sounded like water, and he was still contemplating the next when a hand was clapped over his mouth, someone jamming his body against the wall. He went still.

The afternoon’s levity was over.

“Don’t do anything unwise, child,” the person behind him said. Link recognized the voice; it was Sooga, the odd Sheikah man who’d found them by the shrine. “I only want to ask you some questions about your brother. What is his interest in my people?”

Sooga’s hand slipped off Link’s mouth. Link grunted in protest, and the man remained silent for a moment.

“My mistake,” Sooga said eventually, and he let go.

Link took a deep breath, and then turned around.

Sooga looked completely different now than before, thin where he’d been round, small where he’d been broad. His expression was blank, like a mask. Even crouched, he was still taller than Link.

Link had a sword with him – the ancient one that Purah had given him. It was in his Sheikah Slate. Honey had insisted. He thought that he could get to it, if he was fast.

He sat down and crossed his legs, eying Sooga uncertainly. When the man only mirrored him, he set the slate in his lap, and started working.

“Honey is search for Sheikah history,” Link said, slow and careful, tongue poking between his teeth. “Honey ask Impa. They show Honey books.”

He was still clumsier with the slate than Honey was, but he was getting better. He hadn’t even needed to add that many words; the recordings from Honey’s slate were almost enough, and Link had only needed to ask his mom to record a few things. Apparently Honey didn’t need to tell people he was hungry anymore.

“Impa,” Sooga murmured. “That’s a traditional Sheikah name.”

Link nodded. “Impa is Sheikah. Stay with Zelda.”

“Of course,” Sooga muttered. “Why is your brother researching Sheikah lore?”

Link shrugged. “You made Honey curious. He shared with me. Sheikah tech. Land claims. Legend history arguments. History items.” Link made a face. “I didn’t understand everything. But Honey was interested.”

Interested wasn’t exactly the right word for it, but Link didn’t want to try to explain Honey’s reaction with the clumsy tablet in his hands. Honey had been frustrated, and tired, and, yes, fascinated.

“Honey want to talk to King about it,” Link added, almost as an afterthought.

Sooga was silent for a long moment. Link squirmed.

“Why would the hero of Hyrule care about such things?” Sooga asked at last, sounding suspicious. Link guessed that made sense, if he was from a branch that had broken off because they were so mad about it.

He looked down at his hand, and the little triforce emblazoned on the back. It glowed now, faintly, a few shades brighter than it had been before he entered his first shrine. It was still difficult to see, but it was there. He was still thinking about how to answer when Sooga grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, making him yelp. He had to catch himself with his other hand, and then look up.

Sooga was staring at the triforce mark, false face as unreadable as ever.

“Your brother,” Sooga said, after an eternity. Link’s heart beat like a rabbit’s. “He isn’t your brother at all, is he?”

Link whined and pulled away, and Sooga let him. Link settled his hand on the Sheikah slate. He thought he remembered how to get to his sword without looking. Honey had showed him – it was only a swipe in just the right way, and he would have a weapon.

“Of course, I suppose it only makes sense,” Sooga murmured. “Time is one of Hylia’s domains, and one of the most famous powers of the hero. What do you know about Hyrule’s future, whelp?”

Link was starting to suspect that Honey knew something about Sooga that he didn’t.

Link’s hands didn’t tremble while he tried to answer, but it took him twice as long as it should have, with how nervous he was. “Everything was ruins. No one was safe. Honey says we didn’t lose.”

But if they didn’t lose, then why was Honey so afraid?

Sooga stared at him for a very long moment. Then, with no further commentary, Link blinked, and Sooga vanished, leaving Link alone on the watchtower, unnerved and uncomfortable.

After another moment of watching where Sooga had been, Link turned to slide down a rail onto the ground. Sera was probably by the Zora ponds. They could catch fish together.

As much as Link loved the plants and fish at the bottom of the moat, his lungs were about to burst. He tapped Mipha on the shoulder, and immediately, she wrapped her arms around him, and they both shot toward the surface.

Link couldn’t help it; he laughed out loud, wiping his face and brushing his hair out of his eyes, and grinned at Mipha as soon as he could see her. It’s amazing, he admitted, kicking gently to support himself now that they were at the surface. I’d love to see the ocean from down there.

We can do that next, Mipha said, with only a hint of color in her cheeks. Her eyes were beautiful when they sparkled like that, water still clinging to her eyelashes. Zora’s Domain is wonderful underwater as well.

Link grunted and nodded enthusiastically, and only reluctantly tugged at one of her arms.

I’m getting tired, he said sheepishly. Let’s sit at shore for a while.

Of course, Mipha assured him, and they kicked back toward the edge of the moat, where they’d had lunch. Link pulled himself out with a grunt, and turned to smile at Mipha when she climbed out after him.

I’m going to miss you as soon as you’re gone, he said, all of his clothes plastered to his skin. I’ll have to start coming up with excuses to visit.

Mipha softened, leaned over, and pecked him on the lips. That’s not making the most of our time, is it?

I’m not known for my efficiency, Link said, but he was still smiling. He looked down at his clothes, tugged them away from his skin, and felt his smile fall a little. He let go, and asked Mipha, Hey. Can I tell you something?

Mipha’s smile faded too, brow pinching in concern. Of course. What is it?

Link hesitated a moment later, and then the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He looked over his shoulder. Then he reached for his sword.

Sooga held out his own blade, and Link had just enough time to realize he had both swords clutched in one hand before Sooga deliberately dropped them. They clattered to the ground, and Sooga took a step back.

“Yiga,” Mipha said quietly, so tense that Link could feel it where they were still pressed together. Link shifted without thinking, placing himself partway between Mipha and Sooga, and kept his hand on his sword. But he didn’t stand.

“I spoke with the little one,” Sooga said, perfectly even. Link scowled. Sooga ignored him. “Tell me what happened to the Yiga when the Calamity rose.”

Link’s eyes narrowed, but then he understood.

Loyalty.

Link held Sooga’s gaze for a long moment, the stare of the blank mask, and then shifted some of his attention to Mipha.

I’m sorry, he signed gently, can you speak for me?

Mipha hesitated, glancing warily up at Sooga. Are you sure? I don’t know what your relationship with the Yiga has been like in the past, but...

It’s foul, Link said dryly. But speaking with Sooga has been... revealing. And he seems to have something to say, or ask.

Mipha raised her hand to hide a guilty giggle, and it took a moment for Link to understand and smile at her sheepishly. Perhaps ‘hostile’ wasn’t the most charitable name he could have chosen. But his smile faded quickly.

Please? he added, and Mipha’s smile faded too.

She held his gaze for a long moment, and then nodded once and looked up at Sooga. “He’s asked me to speak for him,” she said, quiet and fearless.

Sooga nodded, unreadable. He did not reach for the blades on the ground.

Link took a moment to recall Sooga’s demand, and answered carefully. I’m not certain what you want to know. They lived in a hideout in the desert, and if I had to guess, there were more of them than there were loyal Sheikah.

“He’s not sure what you’re asking,” Mipha relayed, hands folded neatly on her lap and gaze unwavering. “There were more Yiga than Sheikah, and they lived in a desert hideout.”

“Did they serve the Calamity?” Sooga demanded. Link let himself sneer.

Tell him I don’t know the reasons or goals of the Yiga Clan, he said, a little more curtly than he’d meant to. For Mipha, he tried to soften. As far as I could tell, they had nothing better to do than throw bodies at me until they ran out. I always took that to mean they served the monster.

Foul is one way of putting that, Mipha signed to him, brow pinched with worry, and then returned her gaze to Sooga. “He says he didn’t know a lot about the inner life of the Yiga, but they were attacking him persistently enough that he assumes they worked for the Calamity.”

Sooga grunted. “And the Sheikah?”

Link was surprised by the question, and it took him a few moments to work it through, thoughtful. Do you still hold loyalty for the Sheikah? he asked without thinking.

Mipha glanced at him, lips pursed. Was that...? Link was nodding before she could finish, so she looked up at Sooga. “He asked if you’re still loyal to the Sheikah.” Sooga tensed, and Mipha amended hastily, “I’m not practiced at translation – he asked if you have any loyalty to the Sheikah. Feelings of it.”

Sooga only settled a little, shoulders tight in such a distinctive way that Link could almost see his frown. “I was a Sheikah once, yes.”

Despite himself, Link felt a flash of grudging pity. I never once saw a Sheikah outside Kakariko. They were safe in there, because it’s so closed off that it’s easy to protect, but isolated.

Mipha relayed that, and Sooga bowed his head.

“I see,” he murmured.

Ask him why he wants to know so suddenly, Link requested of Mipha. He was attacking only a week ago.

Mipha’s lips parted, revealing a flash of razor teeth, and she looked at Sooga with the coldest eyes Link had ever seen on her. “He asked why you want to know.”

“I spoke to the little one,” Sooga repeated, without raising his gaze from the ground. “The Yiga do not serve causes which do not serve them in return.” His blank mask tilted up to Link. “I promise you two weeks with no Yiga interference. Meet me the day before that time ends in the Breach of Demise.”

Link held his level gaze, watching the porcelain for a long moment. It had all of the makings of a trap, of course, as was the Yiga style. But Sooga- something about Sooga’s personality tickled the back of Link’s mind, like a memory.

Link nodded once, and this time didn’t have to blink for Sooga to vanish.

Mipha exhaled, and when Link looked at her, she seemed relieved.

“Goodness, that was more tension than any date needs,” she murmured, making Link let out a startled laugh. She smiled at him, though it was still strained. That man- he was one of the people who attacked in the courtyard, wasn’t he?

Link frowned. He was. I worry that if I hadn’t been there, they would have been able to assassinate Zelda. He huffed. I don’t understand what they want.

It sounds like they’re going to tell you, Mipha said gently, though her brow was pinched. But why now?

I think... Honey Nut might have let something slip, Link said haltingly, leaning back to slip. And I suppose, thinking about it like a Sheikah... They were doing better than most, but if they were hoping to be rewarded for their service to the Calamity – that certainly didn’t happen.

But the Calamity wasn’t exactly in power either, Mipha pointed out.

They don’t know that and they don’t need to, Link said dryly, earning a laugh. I definitely have to talk to the king soon now, though. I still don’t understand everything that happened, and I’m not... He scowled, pausing to dig his fingers into the ground before he continued. I’m not a diplomat. I don’t-

Poorly socialized, Zelda had said, affectionate though it had been. He cut himself off again and flapped his hands in agitation.

I get the feeling that they aren’t too hung up on court customs, Mipha teased, earning a flash of a tired smile. She grew more serious afterward. You’re not a diplomat, but you’re very kind, extraordinarily thoughtful, and clever. I think that as long as you make sure you understand the situation beforehand, you’ll be able to make sure everything works out.

Link nodded distractedly, but couldn’t bring himself to settle down again, too worked up from the unexpected guest. Eventually, they packed up the blanket and food, placed them back into Link’s slate, and started to head back toward the castle.

They parted ways at the stairwell with a soft kiss, and Link headed toward the library while Mipha went down to the alchemy labs; he almost regretted not going with her, already wanting to know what she was doing there.

But he shook himself and focused on his own self-assigned task, and he was just setting the history books on the table when someone cleared their throat.

What is it? he asked Catrain, gesturing for her to sit despite his surprise. He sat down, and smiled at Zelda when she appeared from behind Catrain, sitting herself delicately close by.

Zelda noticed something peculiar about the bow you used against the Yiga, Catrain explained, and waved at Zelda to take up the explanation from there.

Zelda’s face was flushed and her eyes lowered with an odd amount of shame. Link’s brow furrowed in concern, and he turned to face her better, watching her fidget with the hem of her dress. She looked like she was about to cry.

“It was a bow of light, wasn’t it?” she asked quietly, and all at once Link understood.

Carefully, Link shifted off of his seat and knelt down in front of Zelda, waiting until he had her attention before he began to speak.

It was your power first, he promised her gently, watching her lift her eyes to his, gleaming with uncertainty. My friends, when they died, were able to pass a bit of their power to me. Daruk gave me the impenetrable shield from his family line, and Mipha offered me the healing power she spend decades perfecting. Zelda was my closest friend of all of them, and when she died, she gave me her bow of light.

She had promised Link that he would never run out of arrows again – because, out of everything that had happened during those awful days, Zelda remembered most the fact that he hadn’t gotten hurt until he had to drop his bow.

Link took her hand and kissed the fingers gently before he let go again to continue. She earned that power in every way you can imagine, and that meant she could do with it as she liked. It’s not my power. She’ll take it back someday.

A broken smile flickered across Zelda’s face, and she didn’t look completely comforted. Link returned it, knowing exactly how she felt.

Chapter Text

After returning from training, the senior guard was making much better progress against the sword trials. One by one, all of them made it through the first set, and were making headway into the second. Cedric had even completed it – his experience as the oldest of the senior guards served him well – and Ambrose, still handicapped by one room, had managed to reach the final chamber exactly once.

“You hardly take your eyes off that sword,” Asher commented, and made a brutal feint with his halberd that Link had to quickly parry. “Afraid someone is going to run off with it?”

Link grunted in discomfort. He indeed never let Asher turn him away from the table where each of the guards were facing his sword’s challenge, riddled with anxiety whenever she was out of sight.

Link shrugged, and then jabbed twice in quick succession, forcing Asher to sidestep, before catching the halberd’s handle and twisting it out of Asher’s grip. Sure enough, Asher hissed, dropping it, and Link dropped his as well to answer.

I just like knowing she’s nearby. Usually I don’t even let her leave arm’s reach. I don’t feel right with her so far away.

Certainly doesn’t stop you from being skilled with everything else, Asher signed ruefully, and Link flashed him a smile, picked up the dropped halberd, and tossed it back.

Don’t worry about it. You’ve gotten a lot better.

Link leaned down to pick his forked spear back up, and then a clatter of wood drew his attention sharply to the table. Immediately, Link dropped the spear again and headed over. Across from him, Asher was doing the same.

Selwyn was leaning heavily on the back wall, struggling to control his breath. One hand clutched at his tunic, bunching the fabric, and the other slid blindly over the wall as if searching for escape.

“I’ve got you, Selwyn,” Asher murmured, clasping one of Selwyn’s arms firmly with his. Selwyn accepted it readily with a white-knuckled grip, and Asher pulled him out of the room without ceremony. Link wavered in place, uncertain, and mentally ran over the contents of the final trials. Last he’d heard, Selwyn had still been struggling against the igneo talus, but if he’d gotten past that and shot right through the frost area...

Decisively, Link bent down to pick up Selwyn’s sword, which he’d set down to lean against the table. He righted the fallen chair, gave his own sword a shallow nod, and then went after them.

He followed the sound of hoarse, strangled swearing and found the two men in one of the hidden alcoves, Selwyn still sucking in heavy, labored breaths.

Neither of them noticed him until Link knelt down to set Selwyn’s sword just within reach. Selwyn muttered another curse, pressing his fist against his forehead.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Selwyn choked out, flushed with strain, his grip on Asher looking tight enough to bruise. "I know we don’t have t-time for this, god damn it...”

Feeling a little out of his depth, Link pressed himself against Selwyn’s side, pressure and warmth and trust, and Selwyn cut himself off, panting. Link set his hand on Selwyn’s chest, and Selwyn let out a ragged laugh and slowed his breathing down again. Link could feel him shaking.

It was a special sort of awful, facing your worst fear dressed in next to nothing. Link still vividly remembered the raw terror of the guardians in the abbey, when he was still too lost to even know why he was so afraid.

Link wasn’t usually on this side of the equation, to say the least.

Link sat there quietly, listening to Asher murmur to Selwyn in a soft stream, and slowly Selwyn calmed. The shaking eased to occasional shudders, and pants turned to hitching turned to heavy but even breath.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Link,” Selwyn managed at last, voice tight with misery. “You even warned me about the damn thing, I knew it was coming, but hell. Fuck.” Another breath. “I should be able to do this. You already did this.”

It was true – Link had finished these same tests at seventeen, over a year ago now. But Link, to put it bluntly, was special.

He nudged his cheek against Selwyn’s shoulder, and when he had the man’s attention, signed, It’s okay. They’re just training tests. You don’t really have to complete them.

“I should be able to,” Selwyn muttered resentfully. Link actually smiled a little.

You don’t have to, he repeated. A sort of calm certainty settled over him that had been hard to find since they’d started planning. You just needed to get better, and you did that. Everyone did that. Everyone is doing amazing. You don’t have to pass a training test to prove it.

Your dad still has a thing or two to learn about realistic expectations, Asher told Link, and Link flashed him a smile.

Selwyn snorted, reached up to rub his face in exhaustion, and finally signed, You really feel better than you did?

Link hummed in confirmation. Yes, really. Things look... really a lot better than they did. He smiled at Selwyn, tired but pleased. There are pieces moving that I didn’t even know could move. I think we’re going to be okay.

Selwyn gave Link a weary smile, and Link twitched slightly, then settled as Selwyn’s fingers slid into his hair, scratching his head soothingly. “Good. That’s... good.”

Asher nudged Selwyn. “I told you he was feeling better.”

“His nightmares weren’t making that terribly convincing,” Selwyn tossed back. Link tensed, but there was no heat in it and his hand didn’t move from Link’s head. “That does not in any way mean I don’t want you home, Honey.”

Link relaxed, smiling despite himself. At some point he’d started to spend nearly every night there. Staying at the castle was more practical, so he still did it sometimes, but going home was... nice.

“Ready to head back?” Asher asked Selwyn, and Selwyn exhaled and nodded, gently nudging Link to make him stir.

With some reluctance, Link climbed to his feet, Asher gave Selwyn a hand up, and Selwyn grabbed his sword to sheathe it. He ruffled Link’s hair again when he caught up, giving him a small, grateful smile, which Link returned without hesitation.

No one had attempted the trials while Link was gone, keeping a respectful distance from the sword. Link exhaled in a peculiar sort of relief, then pulled himself up onto the table. That was all it took before they kept going as if they hadn’t been interrupted.

Impa reported your sudden interest in Sheikah tradition to me, Rhoam remarked, frowning at Link like a puzzle. It did not occur to me that the reason could be something like this.

Link shrugged, tapping the ground with his feet. I’m still not sure what their game is. But if we can even convince them to be a neutral party, it’ll be one less thing to worry about, and it sounds like all it’ll cost is a bit of pride.

And if they go back on their word? Rhoam countered.

I’m not going to put all my trust in them right away, Link said dryly. I assume you wouldn’t either. But it’s not like the concessions will cost any more if they stay traitorous, and it might please the Sheikah. They’ve earned that for their loyalty, haven’t they?

Rhoam kept frowning for a while longer, and Link rocked and idled, humming to himself while Rhoam thought.

You take great liberties, initiating this on your own, Rhoam said at last. What prompted it?

It was sort of on accident, Link said honestly. Our first meeting was happenstance, and I think it was just luck that we didn’t attack each other on sight. And Little Link wanted to talk to him, and some of the things he said... made me curious, that was all. He shrugged. Parley wasn’t even my idea. But I don’t see a reason to overlook the opportunity.

It could be an ambush, Rhoam said.

I know, Link said. But I’m not easily beaten. I’ll come prepared.

Rhoam grunted, and Link had to stifle a laugh as he stroked his beard. I’m prepared to cede the artifacts into Sheikah care. As you said, they take care of their heirlooms. The historical records will have to be discussed between Hylian and Sheikah historians. What is your proposal for the conflict of technology?

That was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? Unfortunate, since it also made Link the most uncomfortable. According to record, it had had been the guardians that were the final straw for Hyrule; after seeing the raw power of the mechanical army, Hyrule had forbidden the Sheikah from drawing from their research for any reason. Ever loyal to their divine purpose, the Sheikah had quietly capitulated.

Except for the Yiga.

Link crossed his ankles and said, I was thinking that a Yiga scientist could work with Robbie and Purah. And... He lifted his head to meet Rhoam’s eyes more evenly. Let the Sheikah access their technology again. We never should have stopped.

Rhoam’s lips pressed together tightly. A bold demand for you to make, considering your own fear of Sheikah technology.

Low blow, and also inaccurate. Link tilted his head to regard Rhoam coldly. I fear the specific machine that brought me a hideously painful death. But it exists anyway, and I’ve never encountered another Sheikah device that made me recoil at the sight. Most of it is ingenious and immeasurably helpful.

You’ve only encountered the holdovers from a time long gone by, Rhoam countered. I’m sure you can easily imagine the enormous power they can bring to bear when they have free access to their former resources.

The Sheikah have never been anything but unwaveringly loyal, Link said, and all the ones that turn traitor use it anyway. It doesn’t help anything, and there’s no reason to make them live like serfs to prove their loyalty. Let them have it.

Rhoam held Link’s gaze for a while, and then, finally, dipped his head stiffly.

It will be done, he said. Let us hope we’re not given cause to regret it. But I will not allow a Yiga to live and work in the castle unsupervised, and they will be vetted beforehand.

Done, Link agreed, relieved. You do realize there might be additional demands after we talk, right?

Rhoam heaved a put-upon sigh, but he nodded. Yes, unfortunately. Keep your promises reasonable, child. I will not cede much to an enclave of traitors. Pause, and then he tacked on, The artifacts will be ceded to the Sheikah, not the Yiga. The Yiga have earned less than nothing.

Link nodded quickly, pleased. I understand. It’s only fair. He hesitated, and then let his hackles down with a sigh. Thank you. I know I’m asking a lot.

Rhoam sighed again, but something about him softened. Your dedication to justice and integrity is admirable, and you have given much to the kingdom of Hyrule. I can do no less than lend you an ear when you ask. A flicker of a smile crossed his face. For someone that so readily surrendered control of the preparations, you’ve certainly found a way to make yourself busy.

Link laughed a little. I guess so. I don’t like being idle, I just can’t... He waved vaguely indicating the castle and everyone inside, and Rhoam chuckled.

So it seems. Will you bring someone to translate for you?

Link nodded. After the fight they’d put up in the training yard, he wasn’t going to risk diverting his attention to his slate for that long. I was going to ask Urbosa, unless you think that’s too pointed.

Rhoam chuckled quietly. Not at all. I think it should get the idea across quite well. Have you spoken about this with her already?

Link shook his head. I thought I should talk to you about it first.

And temperance from you as well, even, Rhoam said, amused. Just so. Your judgement has been swift and sound so far. Return promptly with your report once the day comes.

Link hummed his reassurance, pleased with the conclusion, and gave Rhoam a shallow bow before he left. In two weeks’ time, they’d know whether the Yiga would remain enemies, or...

Well. Or not.

Before the two weeks were up, they received a message from Zora’s Domain: Vah Ruta had been uncovered in Ulria Grotto.

You don’t have to go right away, Link found himself saying, unable to take his eyes off Mipha’s. His heart fluttered in his chest, nervous and longing already. Vah Ruta is enormous. It’ll take weeks to extract it completely.

Mipha laughed quietly, and reached out to squeeze his hands before she replied. I have a duty to my people, I’m afraid, and I want to see Vah Ruta for myself. But you should visit soon. You haven’t met Sidon properly yet. She hesitated, and then added bashfully, And I have not met your sisters. So I’ll have to return soon anyway.

She leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. He shivered from the closeness and smiled at her when she leaned back again, helplessly pleased.

Yes. Soon, he agreed, and then took a breath, rolled his shoulders, and braced himself. I do still have something to tell you before you go, if you have time to meet in private.

Mipha’s mouth pulled into a worried frown, but she nodded without hesitation. Of course. Always.

So they ended up back in Link’s room in the castle, both seated at the table. Link sat kitty-corner to Mipha and set the slate on the table, then lifted his eyes to meet hers.

You remember, of course, that I lived in this time before, he said, slow and careful, and went through these steps, and came out the other side.

How could I forget? Mipha agreed, lips pursed. What’s wrong?

Nothing is wrong, Link said immediately, firm and swift. But it’s not something I should hide from you any longer than I already have. In that time, though I remember very little, I know that we were together. We courted for some time, and... eventually, you gave me a heartscale armor.

Mipha inhaled sharply, her hand coming up to her mouth, and Link ducked his head, cheeks coloring. To back up his claim, though, he flicked through his slate and pulled out the Zora armor, and laid it delicately across the table.

Mipha’s other hand joined her first at her mouth. Link flushed and had to hide an inappropriate smile, because it was adorable.

I don’t mean to pressure you into anything, he signed. Just because we were engaged in that time doesn’t mean we have to now. But I thought you deserved to know.

Mipha was still staring at the armor, and after a minute, she lowered her hands, reached out, and pulled the armor close, examining the fine craftsmanship. She let the scales drape across her hands, and flipped one sleeve up to examine the stitching. Then she put it down and looked at Link.

“You knew we would love each other,” she said quietly.

Not really, Link admitted. I’m a different person now from who I was then. But I knew I would like you, and I was excited to meet you. He flushed with embarrassment. I... really didn’t think I’d like you so much so quickly.

Mipha gave him a warm smile, and then looked down again, rubbing the flexible armor thoughtfully. She let go and signed, It’s not finished. Link tilted his head, and Mipha smiled at him, a little sad. You didn’t get this directly from her, did you?

It took Link a moment to connect ‘her’ with the other time’s Mipha. He shook his head. Sidon gave it to me.

There’s spellwork missing from the armor, Mipha said. Ones to help you dive, and breathe underwater. Help you see in the dark, cope with the cold, hear well enough to understand speech... She took a deep breath. If I propose to you again- I’ll add those spells. And then the armor will be from me as well.

Link blinked at her, startled, and then a wide, almost silly smile broke across his face, and he nodded. If, he agreed, already thinking wistfully of the day. Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me.

He didn’t know if he could have done it, if Mipha had asked him to put away this armor and wear hers instead; he hadn’t even thought about it until now. Maybe it would be from Mipha either way, but... no. He just couldn’t do it, just like he couldn’t let go of the other Grace’s bracelet.

Unable to find another way to express his affection, Link pulled Mipha into a long, deep kiss, enjoying for one last time the sharp points of her teeth and the textured rub of her scaled cheeks brushing his. He stroked one of her parietal fins, sighed at the touch of her fingers on the back of his neck, and only reluctantly pulled away.

I’ll miss you, he said. Mipha smiled at him.

I’ll look forward to your visit soon, then, she replied.

Chapter Text

“Are you ready for this?” Urbosa asked Link in an undertone, while he was tethering Hush to a tree, some distance from the Breach of Demise. He nodded without looking, frowning at the rope. “It was good of you to bring me. They’ll certainly know my face.”

Link glanced at her, and smiled briefly when he saw a smirk tugging at her mouth. It’ll make it easier to be hostile without being rude, he said.

“It certainly will,” Urbosa murmured, and finished tethering her horse as well. Then she turned to head briskly down the road, and Link followed, only a step or two behind.

The two Yiga made themselves known when Link and Urbosa had reached about halfway down the ravine, appearing suddenly in the bursts of light the group was so fond of. Link scowled and removed his hand from his sword, but Urbosa appeared completely unfazed.

“We did not agree to another presence at this meeting,” Sooga said, voice cool.

Then you’re an idiot, Link signed irritably. I’m not occupying my attention and both my hands in front of the two of you, parley or no parley.

“He called you an idiot,” Urbosa said, eyes dark with amusement. “I assume I don’t need to elaborate on why.”

“Hm,” Sooga said, which Link interpreted as ‘I understand but I don’t like it.’ Too bad.

Kohga didn’t seem to care very much either way, and he stepped forward with an air of aggression. Link eyed him and put very little effort into appearing anything less than disdainful.

“What do you want from the Yiga, boy?” Kohga demanded.

Grudgingly, Link oriented himself toward Urbosa just enough for her to see his gestures clearly, and he said to Kohga, I don’t care whether you choose to be neutral or an ally, as long as you’re not my enemy. If you become neutral, keep your damn swords to yourselves and I’ll keep mine. He hesitated, almost leaving it there, and then continued slowly, As an ally... I’d ask you to reinforce key points when the Calamity is due to strike. Maybe help Robbie and Purah research how to keep Sheikah tech free from the Calamity’s influence.

“For the most part, he’d be satisfied to not have you as an enemy,” Urbosa translated, hand on her hip. She was taller than even Sooga, and by more than a little bit. Her eyes were shadowed with an echo of Link’s unabashed dislike. “Stay out of his way and he’ll do the same. If you wanted to be more involved, he says that there are key points that will need reinforcing when the Calamity is due, and he’d like your help keeping Sheikah tech out of the Calamity’s hands.”

Kohga rocked on his heels, forward then back, suspicious. “Why would the Calamity have Sheikah technology if we weren’t allied with it?”

Link considered, frowning. He didn’t want the Yiga knowing about the guardians until their allegiance was set. It could possess some of the machines we’d dug from the ground, he said after a moment. It caused a lot of damage that way – most of the physical destruction was from them.

Urbosa translated aloud, and Sooga ‘hm’ed, low and dissatisfied.

“I suppose you held that against the Sheikah,” Kohga sneered.

Link let some of his hostility fall, hackles dropping, and shook his head wearily.

No, he said. No one could have foreseen what happened then, and Robbie and Purah did the best they could. They did their best to fix it too.

“He said no,” Urbosa translated firmly. “The two Sheikah scientists that worked on it meant well, and they tried to fix it afterward. He says no one could have expected what happened.”

“I suppose it makes sense that you insisted they spend the rest of their lives repenting,” Kohga spat. He seemed more... together, than the Kohga Link had known. He wondered what that Kohga had done for a hundred years.

He wondered if Sooga had been a casualty of the Calamity.

In the aftermath of the Calamity, there was not much anyone could do except work to survive it, Link said instead, dismissing the notion. Working against the machines was more a side effect of that than anything. The Calamity’s blood moons meant that anything malicious and deadly respawned around once a month.

“He says that their actions were necessary to survive a post-Calamity world,” Urbosa said. “The stolen... machines, returned to life every month or so, along with every monster in Hyrule and the surrounding area.”

The masks made the two Yiga difficult to read. Link didn’t like it.

“How did you serve the Sheikah, hero?” Kohga demanded after a moment, more intense than Link would have thought him capable of. “These people that you claim are your allies?”

Link softened, just a little; lingering care for the Sheikah was probably the only way that these two Yiga could touch his heart. Not in much tangible way, I suppose, he said thoughtfully, casting his mind back wistfully. I brought supplies from outside, sometimes, luxuries they couldn’t get anywhere nearby. One of Impa’s guards, Dorian, had two young daughters that I would play with sometimes. I taught the older one new recipes when I visited. He shot Kohga a sharp look, unable to help himself. Dorian’s wife was killed by the Yiga to force him to cooperate with him, and they threatened his daughters as well. So much for loyalty.

Urbosa pursed her lips, and Link sighed, already knowing his words were going to get pared down – something he did himself for his slate, admittedly, but it was more grating when he didn’t get to pick what made the cut.

“It sounds like they were doing too well on their own to need much help from him,” Urbosa said at last. “He brought luxury supplies that aren’t found anywhere near Kakariko, and he spoke fondly of a guard and his two daughters. He says that the girls’ mother was killed to earn the cooperation of the father.” She paused. “I – not Link – but I hope you know that such treachery won’t be tolerated by the Gerudo or by Hyrule. You will play nicely with the Sheikah, if you hope to have status.”

Kohga flapped a hand dismissively.

“Wonder what got into me, letting that happen,” he muttered, and then flapped his arms as if to reorient himself. Link snorted. “And the Yiga?”

Link scoffed, and didn’t bother to lie, mouth pulling into a sneer. They were ambushing me nearly from the minute I woke from the Shrine of Resurrection. If they were fool enough not to know when to flee, I killed them.

“He says that they ambushed him regularly,” Urbosa relayed. “If they didn’t flee in time, he killed them.” She crossed her arms. “I assume you know my face. I’ve done the same. I will not apologize.”

“You people never do,” Kohga scoffed. Sooga cleared his throat. “Fine. Enemies are enemies. Whatever.” He looked at Link, porcelain mask smooth and featureless, belied by his uncharacteristically attentive slouched posture. “Why are you loyal to the crown? Don’t tell me it’s that damn soul of yours. That’s a cop-out.”

Link’s eyebrows rose, and he actually had to rock back on his heels and think about it. Had there ever been a day that he had truly chosen his own path? That he had committed himself and his fealty to Zelda? Or had it simply always belonged to them?

Urbosa frowned at him. Link shrugged. I’m thinking back. You’ve seen me dig through my memory before. It can take time.

Urbosa nodded at him, and just as Kohga was crossing his arms, bouncing impatiently, she said, “His childhood memories were damaged by the Calamity. He’s trying to remember.”

Kohga scoffed. “You’re thinking about it?”

Link scowled at him. Don’t get used to it, he said.

“He said not to get used to it,” Urbosa relayed, and Kohga snorted. It almost sounded amused.

Please translate more closely this time, Link said at last, and Urbosa flushed and nodded. A lot of it really is my soul. I knew I was the hero when I was very young. So I grew up knowing my destiny was to fight by Zelda’s side against an ancient evil. It’s a lot to expect of yourself at such a young age, so you lean on what crutches you can for reassurance. I certainly did. He hesitated, biting his lip, and shook his head when Urbosa raised an eyebrow. But for the most part... and especially now... I believe in Hyrule and its people. I want to help them seek adventure. I want to help them give kindness to each other. I want them to create dreams and places and new things. If I have to die to make that happen, I will.

He almost brought up his family too – all of them worked in and around the castle, after all, and his father was a damned royal guard – but that wasn’t it, and he knew it. It had been so long before he had known anything of his family, and he had still remained loyal. No- it had been first the distant voice of Zelda, and then, the people of Hyrule that had truly cemented his loyalty, at least this time around.

Urbosa raised an eyebrow again, and Link hesitated for a split second, then nodded; that was all. Urbosa translated it, slow and careful, close to as word-perfect as a sign-to-speech translation could get.

“You love Hyrule and its people,” Sooga said quietly, when Urbosa was finished. Link nodded. “That is... admirable. And in line with our values.”

Kohga grunted, sounding dissatisfied and faintly unsettled. “You’re being awfully forthcoming.”

Link scowled at him again, snapping his heart shut like briskly closing a locket. I wouldn’t have come here to offer truce if I didn’t mean it, he said tersely.

“If he wasn’t ready to pour his full effort into this... conversation, he wouldn’t have come,” Urbosa said. Kohga made a soft ‘huh’ sound. Urbosa studied him for a moment, an echo of Link’s own disdain flickering across her face, and she added, “You should count yourselves lucky. I haven’t known Link for long, but I know he acts with nothing more or less than the utmost conviction... be you friend or foe.”

The threat wasn’t particularly subtle. Link appreciated it.

I’ve spoken to the king already, Link added, figuring it was as good a time as any to mention it. Some concessions have been made to the Sheikah already, and those aren’t conditional to your cooperation – they’ve earned them, even if you haven’t. Most of their historical artifacts are going back into their hands – the hookshot, the lens of truth, the mirror shield. Some spell scrolls, ancient maps. Sheikah and Hylian historians will be sent to negotiate historical records. And the king has promised to allow the Sheikah to live with their technology again.

Urbosa listed the concessions quietly, and at the last one, Kohga inhaled sharply. Urbosa smiled, sly and vicious, as if he’d fallen into a trap that she and Link had made together. There were a few beats of silence.

“And for the Yiga?” Kohga demanded. Link exhaled, irritated.

I suggested that a Yiga scientist be allowed to work with Robbie and Purah, he said. They’ll be screened for treachery, by the way, don’t think you can get away with anything. But I wasn’t sure what else you might want. Honestly, I figured the older debates were more important for now.

“He said that a Yiga scientist will be screened for treachery and allowed to work with the royal scientists, both Sheikah, currently working with Sheikah technology,” Urbosa supplied. “He wasn’t sure what else would be desirable; he wanted to focus on the original contention.”

Kohga’s head bent, and Link could hear his heavy breaths. Sooga remained dead silent. Link liked him better when he wasn’t deferring to Kohga.

“Full amnesty,” Kohga demanded. Link snorted.

Obviously, he said, and then nodded to save Urbosa the trouble.

“Equal status to the Zora and Gorons,” Kohga said. Link scoffed.

The Zora and Gorons are our oldest and most loyal, he said tersely. I’ll argue for inclusion in the alliance, but status will have to be earned.

Urbosa translated, and Kohga grunted. “Access to all information about the Calamity and the defense plans.”

Link nodded. Kohga breathed heavily.

“Fine!” Kohga snapped at last, fists clenched. “Fuck it. We’re in.”

Hey, Link said suddenly, when he sensed Revali’s approach. He looked over his shoulder, shifted to face him, and dangled one leg over the edge of the roof. Why does my age bother you so much?

Revali frowned at him, but leaned against the window, appearing to consider his answer. “Doesn’t it bother you?” he asked after a moment, voice dubious.

Link blinked, surprised, and actually thought about it. He shrugged. I don’t know. It is what it is.

Revali snorted inelegantly. “An evasive answer.” He shook his head sharply. “I think it’s disgusting. If no one in all of Hyrule can hold its weight except a prophecy child, then it does not deserve to last.”

That’s harsh, Link said ruefully, and then squirmed to turn around altogether. Bad things happen, and sometimes kindness means taking the fall.

“The fate of Hyrule should not rest on your charity,” Revali said stubbornly. Oddly, something in Link’s chest loosened, and he laughed, leaning back on the spire behind him.

You’re a good friend, Link told him impulsively. And a good ally. But I don’t need your help, not like that. It’s too little, too late. Will you look after little Link for me instead? He’s more frightened than he lets on.

Revali studied him for a moment, and then sighed, faintly resigned.

“I will,” he said quietly, and then, with a proper amount of haughtiness, “I ought to teach him how to shoot, I think – he’ll be better than you by the time I’m through with him, though not as good as me, of course.”

Link smiled at Revali, and then exhaled.

I’m kind of disappointed that I didn’t get to look around Hebra with you, he admitted. The next time I come to Rito Village, we should train together. I know your usual spot.

“Of course you do,” Revali muttered. “Fine. I suppose I could put up with that.” He frowned at Link for a moment longer. “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting strange.”

Link looked out over the horizon. The sky was clear, no rain, no clouds. There was barely even a breeze rippling around him, even all the way up here. Caravans and travelers went up and down the roads along Hyrule Field, and Castle Town bustled down below. Finally, Link shook his head.

I need to go to the temple, I think, he said.

He climbed back inside the castle, and he and Revali walked quietly to the base of the tower, where they parted ways. Revali headed in the general direction of the training fields, and Link did as he’d said and went to the temple.

It wasn’t empty this time, but that was fine. He knelt by the offering bowls and set a single silent princess in one of them, and then went to sit by the foot of the statue and bow his head.

Dear mother Hylia, goddess of love and light, please let me speak my worries, my grief, and my hopes.

I feel strange today – the sort of strange that comes when you have so many emotions that they all add up to ‘tired.’ I think that the weight of everything is finally hitting me. I don’t know why now. I don’t think I even knew that it hadn’t already.

This world is so real, mother. It’s so bright and busy and full of life. My dad can calm me when I’m scared. My mom holds me when I’m in pain. Grace tries to surprise me with things she thinks I’ll like.

And I think... I think that understanding how real this world is has given me room to grieve what I lost before. It’s difficult to mourn what you can’t remember well enough to grasp, but that doesn’t mean the sadness is gone. It only means that you can’t wash it clean.

But I can grasp it now. It feels real. I feel real. It’s as if I gained and lost this world at the same time.

I’m going to protect it this time, mother. I can’t lose them all again.

He stayed by the statue for a little while longer, just resting. He closed his eyes and listened to the movement around the room, and looked up only when he heard a set of footsteps coming toward him.

The Zora priest from before crouched beside him, smiling gently.

Would you like to talk about it, child? he asked.

Link thought about it for a moment, and then surprised himself by nodding. Without another word, the Zora led him to one of the tables, tucked away to lend it a bit of privacy, and sat down. Link sat across from him.

How many times can you grieve the same thing? Link asked the man, before he even knew what he wanted to talk about. The Zora’s expression softened instantly.

Loss is complicated, he said. When you lose a friend, your friend is not all that you lose. You lose the laughter you shared with them, the comfort they gave you, the games you played... each of these things is a loss of its own, and each of them will demand to be grieved. Some of them will demand it many times.

I don’t want to, Link found himself saying, with a little more force than he’d meant. Please. I did my time. I’ve done all this already.

He felt tears in his eyes, and wiped at them hastily, frustrated with himself. He hadn’t expected to cry; he hadn’t even realized he was close. The Zora reached out and squeezed his shoulder, but Link didn’t look far enough up to see his face, trying to compose himself.

I’m afraid there will always be days that it feels like a fresh wound, the Zora said, not unkindly. I promise you will learn to live with it.

That wasn’t what Link wanted to hear.

I’m tired of learning to live with it! Link snapped, almost more upset by how quickly he’d lost control than the damnation itself. I don’t want to be hurt anymore!

His body burned. It was a clear day.

It wasn’t fair. He had just felt strange. When had he gotten so upset? And why? For goddess’ sake, just half an hour ago, he’d told Revali sometimes kindness means taking the fall with absolute conviction. And he’d meant it. He’d meant it. But-

Come, the Zora signed firmly, and Link went without thinking, letting the man pull him into a side chamber and close the door. It was small and dim and quiet in there, with only a few faintly glowing stones for light, and Link immediately felt calmer in the peaceful, muffled room.

He sat down hard on the floor, and the Zora priest sat down across from him, as calm and composed as ever.

Link breathed. Then he took his jar of light, blue nightshade and crushed luminous stone and carefully chopped red chu jelly, from his Sheikah slate and set it between them. It was a very dim room.

I’ve complained about pain so many times and in so many different ways that none of them mean anything anymore, Link signed at last, when the Zora made no move to speak. It felt safer, in this small, quiet room. My body hurts and my mind hurts and my heart hurts, so much, all of the time. I don’t deserve this.

You could never do anything to deserve that, the Zora signed back, still just as slow and gentle and calm. It’s a cruelty that the world has inflicted upon you. Perhaps it will help if I rephrase my comfort. You need not merely learn to live with your pain. One day, you will learn to live in spite of it.

That was... Link was surprised to find that that was, genuinely, a much more soothing thought. To live in spite of the grief, and the battlesickness, and the scars – to make recovery into an act of defiance.

Just another fight. Link was good at fighting – better at it than he was at enduring the blows that the world seemed to rain down on him.

He lifted his head.

What’s your name? he asked the priest. The priest smiled at him, small and kind.

J-a-b-u, he said, for the guardian that once watched over us Zora. And yours?

L-i-n-k, Link signed without thinking. He felt tired, burnt out, but he didn’t feel so strange anymore. He felt... better. Thank you. I think I’m going to stay in here for a while. I want to be alone.

Then I will take my leave, Jabu said kindly. Remember that you can come to the temple anytime you need solace. The goddess will be here for you, and so will I.

Link gave him a weary, wavering smile, and then, as he left and shut the door behind him, Link closed his eyes, set his head against the wall, and breathed. In. Out. In. Out.

He’d get better, as long as he remembered to fight for it.

Chapter Text

Seven years went by, one after another. Honey turned nineteen, twenty, twenty-two, twenty-five; Zelda and Little Link turned eleven, twelve, fifteen, sixteen. Eloise and Grace moved out of the Hallowell household, Eloise to live with her husband and Grace with Impa. And the kingdom’s preparations continued at a steady, unrelenting march.

Only a few days before Zelda’s seventeenth birthday, Little Link – who often protested the qualifier these days – took Honey through the Royal Lab’s field to introduce him to the guardians.

This one goes by Nippy, Little Link explained, cheerfully bumping the casing of one stalker. See all the dents? This is the one that keeps the lynels off Hebra. We almost didn’t call it back, but with some Rito patrols keeping an eye out, there shouldn’t be any trouble.

Honey did see the dents, shallow but wide divots where it had been struck, thin but deep lines from the same – it was a well-used guardian, but still intact. The laser-like blue netting peeking out from the glowing patterns, protecting it from outside corruption, was almost undamaged.

Has it ever needed repair? he asked.

A couple of times, Little Link admitted. Lynels sure hit hard, and they’ve teamed up against it before. We’re lucky they haven’t picked up ancient weapons.

Honey nodded silently, and Little Link moved seamlessly onto the next.

Cistern, he introduced proudly. It guards the Bridge of Hylia. There weren’t as many attacks there as we thought there might be, but most of the lizalfos battalions get handled before they reached the lake.

Little Link looked up, smiling, but it faded quickly when he met Honey’s eyes.

This isn’t helping, is it? he asked after a moment. I was hoping you’d feel better about them if I introduced them, but...

I appreciate it, Honey signed gently. But I would really, really like to leave now.

Deflating, Little Link gave him a nod and turned to the exit, nudging Honey to go ahead. Honey walked out at a brisk clip, and didn’t let out his breath until the door shut behind them.

...Sorry, Little Link signed after a moment.

Honey chuckled softly, reaching up to rub his forehead before he replied. It’s fine. It’s... fine. I’m a little more fragile than usual, that’s all. But I’m glad you feel confident. That’s good.

Little Link studied him critically, not fooled by the demure deflection. How are you doing?

Honey sighed, sitting against the wall in the empty lab. Little Link followed suit.

Not great, Honey admitted, but ‘great’ is a bit beyond the scope of reasonable expectations right now. I’ll be glad when this is over. He gave Little Link a weary smile. I think we all will.

Little Link nodded solemnly. I’ve gone over the plan and the preparations about a thousand times, he said. Grace keeps walking me through Castle Town to remind me that everyone’s already finished evacuating.

So does Mipha, Honey said wryly. Maybe we can do it with each other and save them the trouble. Little Link laughed, like Honey had hoped he would. The Divine Beasts are stocked, everyone is here, Impa’s been making her spells tags, both of our Sheikah slates are full of elixirs and fairies... We’ve really done everything we can, haven’t we?

Of course we have, Little Link said, with fierce certainty. Goddess’ sake, I’ve spent the last week pacing restlessly because there’s nothing left to do but wait. It’s been driving Mom out of her mind.

Honey felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. No doubt because it’s you, Dad, and probably Mary as well, right?

And Eloise, Little Link admitted. Sometimes Grace starts doing it out of sympathetic anxiety. Mom has her work cut out keeping any of us calm, let alone all of us.

Mipha keeps telling me, Honey said, this time next week, it’ll be over.

This time next week, Little Link echoed. Mipha’s good at reassurances.

Lots of practice, Honey said dryly, hesitated, and then asked, How is Zelda doing?

Little Link pressed his lips together, stiffening slightly. Without looking directly at Honey, he said, She’s... trying. She’s been doing nothing but meditating for the last month. She can fill her hands with the light of the goddess, and she can strengthen or dampen it at will perfectly, up to a point. But anything more than that... Little Link shook his head. Well. You’ve seen it.

Honey nodded. Zelda had made good progress, better than in Honey’s past. But still not enough – or at least, he amended forcefully, not to her strongest potential. But that could be fine, and there was nothing they could do regardless. It was up to Zelda to find her power.

She’s determined, Little Link tacked on, and optimistic. She says that if she’s gotten this far, she’s certain she can go the distance.

Honey smiled a little. Her unbreakable will is something to be admired.

I told her it would be the stuff of legends one day, Little Link said. She thinks I’m teasing her. He smiled when Honey chuckled. You’re really okay? You know you could drug yourself to sleep for the next couple of days and no one would blame you.

Won’t say it isn’t tempting, Honey said wistfully. But I don’t want to risk being disoriented when the time comes. I’m managing. I actually think it’s helping distract Mipha, keeping me from working myself up.

That does sound like her, Little Link said, and finally climbed to his feet. How about we head to the training grounds? We can spar. It’s something to do, at least, and we’re about the only even match for each other.

I haven’t been able to beat you since you were fourteen, Honey said fondly, but he followed Little Link out anyway.

By the time the day itself hit, tension was at a fever pitch. The few noncombatants that had stayed in the area went to Mabe Village. Those remaining – around three dozen of the best-trained fighters in Hyrule – were dotted around the castle grounds, grimly waiting.

Honey flapped his hands in agitation.

“Stop that,” Sooga snapped. Honey scowled at him, and Sooga managed to give the impression of scowling back. “It’s distracting, and a waste of energy.”

Honey clicked his tongue mockingly, and then let his shoulders slump and turned around to lean against the low wall, watching the landscape below with worry. After a moment, Sooga sighed, and then he was right beside him, leaning over.

...It feels like any other day, Sooga said.

Honey smiled mirthlessly. Does it? I can’t tell.

That’s because you’re so battlesick that no two days feel the same, Sooga signed back irritably.

You’re not wrong, Honey said with weary humor. ...Do you have your fairy with you? Potions?

Don’t you start, Sooga warned him. Honey groaned and bounced on his toes, rubbing his palm into his forehead, and Sooga sighed. Goddess above, you’re so tense that it’s rubbing off on me.

That wasn’t as much of a surprise as it once would have been. Sooga had leaned on Honey’s judgement in battle more than once before.

Sorry, Honey said reluctantly. I’m so nervous I feel sick.

Sooga grunted in acknowledgement. Honey spent a few minutes picking out people he knew on the ramparts – all outside the castle, with enough room to maneuver, just in case. Zelda, Impa, and Little Link in one cautious formation, hopefully chatting quietly. Selwyn and Asher on a castle wall. Rhoam among his men. The four Divine Beasts, looming from the fields.

Honey closed his eyes.

My mother Hylia, goddess of the triforce, I miss the safety of your heart. With trust, with love, I ask for your shelter, the touch of your hand in mine-

Honey’s back straightened as if sprung, his eyes opening wide, prayer forgotten. He looked up at the castle, and his eyes saw nothing out of place, but he knew it already: the Calamity was here.

It was a taste first, something acrid crawling down his throat, and then a distant grumble akin to thunder. Sooga drew his swords, two glowing ancient weapons that activated at the touch of a button, but Honey waited.

Something screeched, feral and soul-rending, and then the tension broke: all at once, the sky split open, and the Calamity billowed out, a rolling fog of violet malice that writhed and screamed. Four pillars of ancient Sheikah tech shot out of the ground around the castle like a cat’s unsheathing claws. At the base of each one, enormous doors swung open, and dozens, hundreds of guardians began scurrying out like swarms of spiders.

The Calamity screamed again, a high-pitched scratchy noise that set Honey’s teeth on edge. Too fast to avoid, it burst, shooting corruption in every direction. Honey’s breath seized in his chest, and before he could think better of it, he turned to look.

All four Divine Beasts went still and dark. A shiver ran down Honey’s spine.

With the next burst, around two-thirds of the guardians quivered and changed color, and began to swarm toward the castle. The rest – the ones Robbie and Purah had protected – moved to intercept them flawlessly. All over the grounds, bright Sheikah weapons lit up as the fighters braced themselves for battle.

Honey let out his breath, and turned back to the Calamity.

“Hylia and the Golden,” Sooga croaked.

The screaming mass hadn’t dissipated after its burst of corruption, obviously. As Honey watched, it began to pulsate, and then to ooze. Slowly, rolling out of it like slime being secreted from a frog’s skin, or pus squeezed from a wound, lumps of malice swamp collected and fell, splattering and bubbling over the castle. Neither Honey nor Sooga moved; they were transfixed, watching the horror.

Finally, the clouds of malice began to swirl and descend, moving down the castle in a wave, and at the very top, much of it gathered into a massive, many-legged monster. It latched onto the castle, threw back its head, and screamed in bone-rattling challenge.

“Your sword, Link,” Sooga snarled, after an eternity.

Link took a deep breath.

He drew his sword, which glowed with sacred power, shining in the fog-struck dusk.

Then, together, he and Sooga ran toward the monster, steadfast in their resolve. Hyrule would not fall this night. Not to this beast, to this magic, or to the rapid flashes of light starting to blink over the grounds.

It was a difficult journey, even though they’d been among the closest to the sanctum. The further they got, the denser the splashes of malice became; Honey twice pulled Sooga away from a rapidly collecting globule, and once had to dive and cover them both in Daruk’s Protection as a slimy orb burst over them. His skin tingled at the near miss.

Before long, the guardians were upon them; there were too many in the pillars to be completely held off. Honey threw himself wholeheartedly into the fight, flashing and twisting between flailing legs to cut them off, and between them he and Sooga made quick work of any stalker that tried to stop them. The creak of tearing metal filled Honey’s ears and set his teeth on edge.

He was glad for the speed and toughness elixirs he’d taken in the afternoon.

A couple of guardian stalkers crowded Honey closer and closer to a patch of malice swamp, and he was just bracing himself for the burn when Sooga stepped in to cut them down.

“Keep your wits about you, Link,” Sooga reprimanded tersely, and then he was moving again. Honey took a deep breath, tightened his grip on his sword, and pushed on.

It was chaotic and noisy, too much movement and sound and color from every direction, and it was pure instinct that kept Honey moving through the crowd, slipping through gaps and cutting into openings. He didn’t even have time to be afraid anymore; it had been replaced with cool, smooth focus.

Then he and Sooga were in the sanctum, and Honey leaned against the wall and panted while they waited for the others to catch up.

“Do you have this fight in you, hero?” Sooga asked, with only the slightest mocking edge to cut his sincerity. Honey grabbed blindly at his slate and pulled out a stamina potion, gulping it down.

Of course I do, he signed irritably, when he was done. I’m not an idiot.

“Hm.” Sooga looked out to the grounds, and Honey followed his gaze without thinking. Malice swamp was still oozing and dripping from the fog, falling over the city in massive splashes. If it hadn’t been vacated... “Calamity indeed.”

Honey nodded. It was easy, now, to see how the lively city had become the ruins he knew. As it was, the guardians were smashing through houses and shops with abandon, and they’d still need to rebuild.

Zelda, Little Link, and Impa were the next to reach the sanctum, with Impa at the front of the group and Little Link watching their back, eyes bright with focus that had eluded him as a child, the match to Honey’s sword in his hand. Zelda leaned against the wall and wheezed, horror-struck eyes on Castle Town, but without a word, Little Link pulled her further inside, away from the sight.

Last were Kohga and Selwyn, rigid with focus.

“Everyone here?” Selwyn demanded, every inch the captain of the guard he now was. “Then it’s time to kick this fucker out!”

Little Link put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. In the mucky dark the Calamity cast, it sounded like a war horn.

Chapter Text

Vah Naboris was the last of the Divine Beasts to regain movement, screeching loudly before advancing toward the castle in slow, careful steps. Honey spared a heartbeat to sigh in relief. The Thunderblight’s rapid movements made it a tricky foe to hit, but Urbosa had made it, which meant that all four Champions had beaten back their invaders.

Revali, Daruk, Urbosa, and Mipha were all coming home.

The fight on the ground wasn’t going as well, which wasn’t to say that it was going terribly. Calamity Ganon’s attack pattern was different from what Honey remembered, less constrained, and parts of the castle had been smashed; Honey was relying heavily on Revali’s Gale to navigate quickly around the rubble, and Zelda’s Light provided more of his attack power than his sword did.

Hits had been few and far between on both sides. Aided by Yiga technology, Kohga and Sooga flashed across the battlefield, which kept them from getting hit. But moving fast enough to strike was proving a much trickier prospect. Selwyn had taken the dangerous approach of sticking extremely close, fighting Calamity Ganon like he would a particularly oversized guardian, which had scored him a few solid hits but was definitely going to get him hurt before long.

Little Link and Zelda were close together, with Little Link’s attention split between guarding Zelda and striking the beast. Perched up high, Honey pressed a switch that made a bright blue flash, and then the yellow one next to it. Almost a minute later, Vah Ruta and Vah Naboris fired at the same time, stunning Calamity Ganon, and it buckled but didn’t fall.

Zelda’s Bow of Light appeared in Honey’s hands, and he took aim and waited. Sooga and Selwyn coordinated a daring strike that took out both of Ganon’s foremost legs, knocking him off-balance with a roar, Honey fired, and Little Link lunged forward to his swollen, malice-wrapped torso, forcing all of its attention toward him and his brightly shining sword.

Though dazed by the barrage from above, Ganon still looked down and screeched, and Little Link was forced to dive aside to avoid a laser that scorched the earth around him and blew him a few more feet away besides. Taking the opening, Zelda stepped out of cover and threw up her hand toward the Calamity.

Her palm flashed, gleaming like the muzzle flash of a guardian, but nothing else happened. She fell back without a sound, and Little Link rolled to his feet to return to her side, undaunted.

That made four failed seals. It was looking increasingly likely that despite everything, Little Link might need to bring the Calamity down with only Honey’s help. Could two heroes substitute for a hero and a goddess-blood princess?

A narrow miss blasted Sooga off-balance, sending him skidding almost a yard before he caught himself, and he snapped. “Abandon your blind faith, boy!” he snarled. “Go to the damn grounds!”

Ah... there was that, of course. Honey pressed his lips tightly together, but when he tilted his head to look at Little Link, his expression was set. He whistled a swift signal, loud and piercing, and even Honey reluctantly shifted gears.

Around a year ago, as the Calamity drew ever nearer without Zelda managing to fully unlock her power, the king had started to grow restless and paranoid. Working with the same shielding technology that had been used to protect the guardians from the Calamity’s influence, the Sheikah and Yiga scientists had created a substitute, a five-point unit that they’d buried into the training grounds. If it worked as intended, it would be able to contain the Calamity’s power.

Perhaps Sooga was right, and it was only Honey’s religious faith clouding his perception, but the fallback made him uneasy. They’d decided that it was Little Link’s call, though, and if he wanted to try...

Herding Calamity Ganon was only slightly easier than hitting it, and it was really more about baiting than pushing. Honey remained high and distant, darting along the walls and roofs, but he’d have to get close to help shove the Calamity into the trap. He had so many elixirs in him that his blood ran hot; close combat would be as easy now as it ever could be.

Selwyn shouted as he was swiped off his feet, and the follow-up blast sent him flying into a broken wall, where he did not get up again. Little Link faltered for only a split second before pushing on, and Honey had to force himself to do the same.

He sailed down, hit the ground with both feet, and then put everything into swinging his sword with the same force his counterpart did, so broad strokes of energy crashed against the Calamity’s body. It roared, swiping at him, and Honey narrowly avoided it.

“This way, you unfaithful bastard!” Kohga shouted, which would’ve been a dead giveaway if the Calamity was anything but a monster of rage and pain. As it was, he hopped up and down for a minute, waving his arms, and only barely got out of the way in time when Calamity Ganon lunged for him, bringing it only a few yards away from the makeshift seal.

Then, recklessly, Zelda threw herself forward and pushed her hand out again, eyes wide. Her palm flashed, and then the light died, and then Little Link was tackling her, rolling both of them away a touch too slow to completely avoid the laser blasting toward them. Little Link’s sword flashed and glimmered on the ground where he had dropped it, and he was bracing himself to bodily shield Zelda.

Blindly, Honey slapped at the switches that would signal the Divine Beasts, but it wouldn’t be in time to keep them from getting hit. But then the Calamity roared, tossing its head the other way so that the beam seared along the ground, and Honey had just enough time to see Sooga’s sword in its knee before Sooga was batted aside by an enormous, malice-coated spider leg. Sooga bellowed in pain, and Honey saw him land yards away and curl down around clear smears of dark slime.

Kohga screamed and cursed, and Honey tuned it out, grim. Zelda was scrambling back, horrified, and Little Link had already retrieved his sword again, panting. Three of the four Divine Beasts fired on Ganon – he must have missed Rudania’s button – and both of them threw themselves forward.

In a flurry of swords and heavy iron weights, the Calamity was driven back, step by step. As soon as it was in place, then, Kohga dropped everything he’d lifted in the air and kicked the switch hard, and an enormous cage, blue and shimmering, bloomed up around the Calamity. It realized what was happening too late, and it was left scrabbling at the walls like a crab in a trap, bellowing in fury. Then the wall crept too high, pushing it backward until it fell like a tipped spider, and the ceiling closed.

Honey’s knees folded, and he collapsed, shaking. He looked up, and Little Link was already running to Selwyn, and Kohga to Sooga. Honey lifted his head to the beast, which crashed ineffectually against the walls, slamming itself around to the point of injury.

Honey swallowed a sob, and didn’t know whether it was relief or joy or grief. The next one he didn’t bother.

But they weren’t done yet.

He pushed himself shakily to his feet, stumbling a little, and brought his fingers to his mouth to whistle for attention. Little Link looked at him, and then straightened, and at the same time, both of them headed toward the sealed beast. He passed Sooga and Kohga on the way, circling the beast; despite the potion being applied, Sooga was breathing in strangled, painful gasps, the kind that you couldn’t help but punctuate with a whimper. Kohga was murmuring.

Once again, Honey went high and Little Link went low. On Little Link’s whistle, both of them lunged.

Unhindered by attacks, Honey’s sword went deep into the vulnerable juncture of its neck and skull, and Little Link’s went up into its fleshy abdomen. The Calamity roared, then screamed. Honey felt himself shaking, and both swords glowed and pulsed with holy power.

Then, all at once, the Calamity throbbed powerfully, throwing off waves of concussive malice that sent both Honey and Little Link flying away, and tearing the makeshift seal to shreds. Honey hit the ground and blacked out for a split second before he was blinking dazedly at a fairy. Groaning softly, he rolled over and groped blindly for his slate. Potion, potion...

A fairy elixir came free and he ripped the cork out with his teeth, splashed some over his head where it had hit the ground and bled, and then drank the rest. Most of the dizziness receded, but his body resisted his attempts to rise. Something was still wrong.

Little Link was moving to protect Zelda, but Zelda yanked him back, stepped forward, and raised her hand to the monster for the sixth time that day.

Light burst, flashing at the center of Zelda’s palm, and then, while Honey watched, the power swelled into an inferno, enveloping the Calamity in sacred light. It screamed and shook, and Little Link threw himself in again, swung himself up onto its back, and stabbed down.

It crumbled like sand and soot. Honey’s body throbbed with a vengeance, and his chest felt tight. He might need the other fairy’s help too. It was hard to breathe.

He passed out while Zelda was running toward him, and no fairy woke him this time.

“Honey, Honey, no, no, Honey-”

“He’s alright, Zelda, he’s only been out for a few minutes. Honey, can you hear me? Link? Can you hear me?”

“But what’s the smoke coming off of him?”

“Wake up, you holy bastard, everyone else made it, why can’t you?”

A hand gently shook his shoulder, and Honey’s eyes opened. But he didn’t open them. He’d never been so sure of anything in his life.

Only a moment after Zelda met his gaze, she recoiled.

“Your eyes,” she choked out.

“It’s like your irises are made of malice,” Selwyn whispered.

It hurts flickered through his head, but it didn’t make it to his hands. If he’d thought his blood was running hot before, it had nothing on his skin now – not so much like a burn as an awful warmth that assaulted his damaged nerves, sending wracking shudders through his body.

His eyes blinked, again outside of his control. It hurts.

His body tried and failed to push itself upright, collapsing with a gasp. It hurts.

It occurred to Honey that he was not the one thinking that, either. Hysterical echolalia was for when he was out of spoons, and he wasn’t.

His body’s second attempt to sit up succeeded, though it was still shaking with the effort, breathing hard and ignoring all inquiries thrown at it. Its lips moved, and then it coughed. It swallowed twice. Finally, its head rose and it snarled at Zelda.

“You imperial bitch, what did you do?” Honey’s body spat, hoarse and scratchy.

Zelda screamed.

“What the hell?” Kohga muttered.

Honey’s body tried to stand, but that attempt failed too, leaving it panting. “Shit... Hahh... What did...” Its hands rose, turning over in front of its face, and then swore; Honey recognized it as an ancient Gerudo curse. There was black smoke curling off of his body. “This is Link’s body. Your infantile foolishness put me in Link’s body. Damn it.”

It did stand this time, stumbling so badly it nearly fell again.

“Look what you did!” it snapped at Zelda, who took a frightened step back. “Do you think this helps you? Do you think this will contain me? Fuck! Fuck!”

Zelda swallowed something between a sob and a whimper, but there was a spark in her eyes now; it was unmistakable rage. Her voice, when it came out, was strong, even, and accusing. “You’re not Honey. You’re not even Link.”

Honey’s body sneered and tossed its head, looking around wildly. It was disorienting; Honey felt like he was being shaken around in his own body. Its eyes landed on Little Link, then Selwyn, then Kohga; Honey caught only a glimpse of Sooga, still down.

“Goddesses, it’s been so long since I could think,” Honey’s body croaked at last, its hand rising to rub its forehead, then its temple. “I can still barely think. What have you done?”

“Who are you?” Zelda demanded, taking a step forward before Little Link could stop her. Selwyn was breathing hard.

“The demon thief, the cataclysm, the- what is it these days?” Honey’s body sneered again, mouth twisting oddly, dry from overuse. “Calamity Ganon.”

Zelda swallowed hard, her eyes glimmering wetly. Then, before anyone else acted, she lunged forward. Her hands wrapped around Honey’s arms, and then seared with light, which burned through Honey for almost a minute before releasing him to slump forward, gasping.

Selwyn caught him, tilted his head up, and crumpled in relief when Honey met his eyes, lowering them both to the ground.

“Blue,” Selwyn managed, eyes locked on Honey’s. “Honey? Link, baby?”

Honey pushed his face against Selwyn’s shoulder and keened like he was eighteen years old again, completely overwhelmed between the battle and the most visceral violation he could have imagined, that he never had imagined. His mouth and throat felt stained and stolen, and he wanted to throw up.

“Shh,” Selwyn murmured. Honey could feel him shaking even as his fingers stroked Honey’s hair. “Shh. We’ll fix this. We’ll fix this. It’s almost over and everything is going to be okay.”

Honey couldn’t stop crying long enough to tell him that he could still feel the presence at the base of his skull.

For obvious reasons, they had to lock Honey in the dungeons.

To be fair to them, they softened it in what ways they could. They had a real bed brought into it, a short bookshelf with some of his favorite books on it, the jar of light that was always so comforting to him. He still got whatever food he asked for, and the blanket that his mother had made for him a few years after he settled in. The pillow he liked with the subtle scent of leaf litter ground into it. He’d even been able to change out his heavy armor for a light, loose set of clothing, easy on his skin.

The last thing he asked for was a generous supply of lavender, because Ganon’s presence in his body was making the scars burn in an unfamiliar and therefore particularly maddening way. It was Mipha that delivered that.

He looked up as she closed the door behind her, and several wires crossed and tangled up in his head. You’re not supposed to come in, he said after a moment.

I’d like to see anyone try and stop me, she signed back, and then she sat down beside him to hug him tightly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Tears pricked at Link’s eyes, and he turned his face against her neck, breathing in. They held each other for a few minutes, rocking gently, before she finally let go, squeezed his hand, and asked,

“How much?”

...Five, Link said. Please? It’s so much.

“You know I’ll never say no,” Mipha said quietly, and she measured out the dose and gave it to him, then let him hide his face in her tail until it started to kick in, rubbing his back soothingly. She waited until he started to relax before she spoke again. “Are you okay?”

Link jolted, and then pushed himself up and away, wiping his eyes. Sorry. I didn’t even ask. The Waterblight- He’d been having nightmares about Mipha and the Waterblight for months, how could he have forgotten?

“I’m fine, I’m alright,” Mipha murmured, soft and soothing, both her hands catching Link’s to hold them, rubbing as if to warm the fingers. “I was very well prepared, remember? I told you it would be okay this time.” She kissed him on one cheek, then the other, and he blinked at her, dazed. She smiled sadly. “All of us are okay, me and Urbosa and Daruk and Revali, all of your siblings and both your parents, even Zelda and King Rhoam.” Link tugged weakly at his hands. “Sooga is okay too. Kohga’s taken your warnings about malice burns seriously, and he hasn’t left him for a moment. He’ll recover well.”

Link took a moment to process that, and then a wave of dizziness hit him; he would have fallen if he wasn’t sitting down. As it was, he pulled one hand away to grope blindly at the mattress, and Mipha shifted over to move his pillow to prop him up. He shuddered as he landed, half-sprawled, but the pain was already not as bad as it had been, sinking deeper into a sleepy mire with every breath he took.

“What do you want right now?” Mipha asked, eyes bright and intent. Link turned onto his side and lifted one arm, and without hesitation she rolled into bed with him and let him pull her close and hold her.

Between his wife’s comfort and the medicine she’d brought, Link’s mind was settling enough to think for the first time in hours, maybe days. He breathed slowly, taking in the chlorine and saltwater scent of her scales, and let himself bob down closer and closer to sleep. His rigid muscles loosened.

After a while, he tapped the presence in the back of his mind. It growled at him halfheartedly, like a caged dog, and he left it alone.

That was there now, and it was unmistakably Ganon – Ganondorf of legend, not the mythical hellbeast of the Calamity. Link was almost certain he’d have to talk to it if he wanted to free himself of the thing, and it now seemed a far less daunting prospect. He rubbed his cheek against Mipha’s tail and smiled faintly when she giggled.

He certainly wouldn’t have anything better to do with his time while he was in here. He sighed, tightening his grip around Mipha, and then forced himself to loosen it. She rolled over to face him and pressed closer, and he caught her mouth on instinct when she leaned up to kiss him, soft and slow.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Mipha murmured to him, the moment they pulled apart again. Link nodded, letting his head fall to the pillow as drowsiness hit him in earnest. He blinked slowly, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Mipha.

Yeah. Yeah. The worst of it is over, right? That was the worst of it?

Mipha pressed her lips to his forehead briefly. “You lived through the worst of it almost a decade ago, sweetheart. You’re nearly at the best of it now.”

That was all it took to make a wide, almost dreamy smile break out across Link’s face, and he nodded, tucked his head into the crook of his elbow, and fell asleep still smiling faintly.

Mipha had that effect on him.

Chapter Text

Link spent a lot of his time in the cell drowsy or dozing, sprawled out over the bed in a position that vaguely favored his right shoulder. He slipped off into sleep, woke to the harsh scrape of hot sandpaper on sunburns, read or hummed or stared at the walls until the pain and stress got to him, and then took another dose to dip back into the fog before he rolled over to sleep again.

It was somewhere on the waking end of that cycle that Link finally reached out to Ganon, a feeling more like taking someone’s hand than shaking them awake, and there was only a moment of hesitation before Ganon accepted it.

For a second, he swore he could see the face of the man Ganon had been before the vision faded away again.

Deigning to speak to your prisoner, Link? Ganondorf jabbed, a distant echo in Link’s head. He burrowed his head into the crook of his elbow, focusing on the interaction.

Do you think I wanted this? Link asked him, the thought rippling out like an echo through water. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m as miserable as you are right now.

I had noticed, actually. Are you expecting pity?

Comprehension. This was an accident.

I’m not surprised. You and Zelda bumble your way through each cycle so clumsily that it’s quite a wonder you ever win.

Link flinched, throat tightening, and had to force his suddenly clenching hand to relax. It wasn’t anything he didn’t know. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Ganon did as well. I don’t suppose you have anything helpful to say.

Why would I?

You’re old. Your memory goes back further than mine does. Why wouldn’t you?

Ganon was silent for a minute, and then he sighed, and Link thought he could feel an echo of the man’s exhausted frustration. Nothing that would benefit either of us. The dying vestiges of my soul latched onto the remnants of my magic rooted in your body. You’d have to carve them out to dislodge me.

Link grimaced, shifting in place to stretch his muscles at the thought. There’s some perspective for me. I think that’s the only thing that could make them hurt more.

Ganon snorted, startling both of them. There’s nothing quite like malice, is there?

...No. Link shifted and resettled, opening his eyes to stare without comprehension at the wall in front of him. Ganondorf. Was that your name, once?

Once.

Is it still your name?

Nowadays, I think my name is whatever Hyrule chooses to call me. There was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice. Link blinked slowly, feeling the sore heat ripple with each breath, and considered that.

Ganondorf. What were you going to do with Hyrule, once you had it?

Ganondorf scoffed. Nothing. Destroy it, probably.

You don’t know or you don’t remember?

Ganon’s laugh echoed, derisive and half-forgotten. Neither. Both. Does it matter anymore? I think I had ambition, once, before all I knew was pain. If I ever had true plans for Hyrule, I have them no longer.

The malice hurts you too?

It destroyed me, Ganon snarled, with a flash like bared teeth. Link flinched and shifted, a shiver running down his spine, and almost pushed himself upright to get away before he forced himself to focus. I have been wrapped in that magic for thousands of years. There is no longer enough of my soul left to reincarnate. There is barely enough to think, even free of that monstrous flesh. I will have yours and then I will have nothing.

Link’s stomach turned, and he rolled over to face the other way, kicking anxiously. That won’t save you.

No, Ganon agreed coldly. Nothing will save me now. So then, hero of the goddess, what have I to lose?

Even once you have nothing left to lose, you can still suffer.

...You’ve changed over the years, Link.

I wouldn’t know.

No, you wouldn’t. Ganon was quiet for a while, and Link had to push himself upright, leaning against the wall just to change positions, one leg up against his chest. I, too, have changed. Damn Hylia and her triforce both. This curse could not have existed without her.

Irritation shot through Link, and he let his head fall against the wall, exhausted. Shut your mouth. Between you and her, only one of you unleashed evil after evil in a mad scramble for power.

Without her curse, I never would have gotten the chance. The reason.

Did she make you do it? Then shut. Your. Mouth. Oh, that was the cause of his sudden temper – the pain was spiking again, pulling taut across his stomach and chest. He pushed himself up to grope blindly for the vial, and Ganon stayed oddly quiet while he measured out a dose and swallowed it, laying back down to baby the strained skin. I don’t suppose praying to Hylia would drive you away.

Not unless Hylia herself came to banish me. Will you beg for the chance, hero?

Not yet. Have I always hated you this much?

You don’t hate me, Ganondorf said with steel certainty. You have hated me in the past, or pitied me. Once or twice you have been fond of me, even liked me, in your way. Pause. So far as I know, you have never been so afraid of me before.

A shiver ran down Link’s spine again. Then my previous incarnations were braver than I, he said bitterly. Ganondorf didn’t reply, and Link sighed as the lavender started to work again. Ganondorf. How did we get here?

Perhaps it was the hopeless edge that gave away his true question, because Ganondorf didn’t even hesitate, and he sounded just as exhausted as Link felt. In truth, it has been so long, and I have lost so much of myself that I no longer remember. This is simply the way that it has always been.

I suppose even evil exhausts itself eventually.

I think if there’s one thing that can be learned from this, Link, it is that evil is the one thing that never exhausts itself. Only the reasons behind it.

Link laughed, rolled over, and slumped back down, sighing. He slipped down, and sleep threatened to claim him proper again. I’m tired.

Yes.

If Ganon had anything else to say, Link fell asleep before he heard it. But in truth, he thought that that was all that Ganon had to say about it.

Link wasn’t the least bit surprised to find that Grace was the first of his family to visit him. She sat outside his cell door and smiled at him, and without thinking he moved to sit beside her, just on the other side of the bars. Ganon had been turning and stirring in the back of his head for most of the morning, and he was longing for a distraction.

You made it, Grace signed warmly, as soon as he sat down. Everyone made it.

Link felt himself smile, wry and relieved. He nodded. Yes, we did.

Everyone is thinking of you, you know, Grace told him earnestly, maintaining her carefully confident smile. Mom spoke to everyone this morning to make sure that someone would be visiting you this morning; I think she would have made time herself if I hadn’t said I would. As it is, she and Eloise are leading cleanup so people can start moving back in. Mom and Dad’s house is fine, but there’s some leakage in mine and Impa’s, and Eloise is going to have to move.

Link let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Mom and Dad’s is fine?

Completely intact, Grace promised him, a sympathetic quirk to her mouth. Most of the city is. There’s a couple smashed bits, and some malice swamp in the areas closer to the castle, but we’ll be okay.

Okay, Link echoed. Good.

Grace laughed a little, eyes soft. Turn around, she said. I want to give you something.

Link turned around without question, and jumped a little when he felt a tickle around his neck. A second later, it disappeared, and Link reached down to feel the pendant that had landed in the dip of his collarbone, then picked it up to look. It was the star fragment necklace that he had given Grace, so long ago. He turned around to look at her, and she smiled at him.

For luck, she said simply, and he smiled back. It disappeared as he felt Ganon threaten to stir again in the back of his head, and concern flickered across Grace’s eyes before she hid it. You haven’t been getting too terribly bored in here, have you? I know you like rereading books, but surely there’s a limit.

I’ve mostly been napping, he admitted, and Grace laughed.

Of course, silly me. Your second favorite thing to do.

Link laughed too, quick and surprised, and was starting to reply when he forgot what he was going to say. He blinked, and Grace cocked her head in concern. He blinked again, and this time felt the shake like vertigo, the balance in his head coming undone.

He blinked again, and someone else opened Link’s eyes, his consciousness dislodged from its place. Ganon sneered, and the whirlwind of emotions stung Link’s real self: bitterness, jealousy, spite.

“You’re wasting your time here, you soft-bellied wretch,” Ganon hissed, and slammed Link’s fist on the bars to make them rattle. Grace didn’t flinch, but she did shift back, eyes wide. “Pretty words and trinkets aren’t going to help Link against this, against me. You’ve nothing but empty gestures.”

Honey Candy? Grace signed uncertainly, and then, Calamity Ganon?

Link hated seeing Grace so uncertain, and he hated the sound of his own voice being forced from his throat, spewing venom and bile.

Ganon smacked the bars again, baring Link’s teeth at Grace. “Scram! You’re not wanted here! Get out!” His voice cracked – probably from disuse, given the scratchy, rasped quality of it. “You’ve less use than a heap of dung, and I wish you’d go the way of one! Begone! Shoo!”

Grace was still blinking in confusion, only a trace of fear in her expression, without a lick of understanding. Link’s stomach lurched, and his voice cracked again, wavering oddly. His eyes burned.

Link felt sick, and he wanted Ganon to stop-

The world jostled again, and Ganon fell out of place while Link fell back in. He snapped his mouth shut so fast he bit his tongue, covered his mouth, and gagged. The tears that had already been welling up spilled, and Grace swayed forward, then back, expression pinched.

It’s me, I’m sorry, it’s me, Link fumbled out after a moment, and then belied his own words by pushing himself away from the door, coughing. His throat was sore. I’m sorry, I don’t talk, please, I don’t talk, I don’t talk, my voice doesn’t work, I’m not, I don’t-

I know, Grace signed soothingly, scooting closer as soon as she was sure it was him. I know. I didn’t hear a thing, I promise. No one was here to hear him. It’s still your own, I promise.

Link’s stomach flipped, but after a moment, he collapsed against the bars, suddenly exhausted. He was glad Grace understood the nausea Ganon’s theft stirred in him, because Link sure as shit didn’t.

This sucks, he said miserably. Grace smiled at him, pain sparkling in her eyes.

Hyrule does seem to save its special horrors for you, she said, and Link blinked at her incredulously, and then pressed his forehead to the wall and giggled helplessly. His shoulder and stomach twitched with pain, and he barely noticed.

In the back of his head, Ganon was still spitting and grumbling.

Do you want me to stay here until you fall asleep again? Grace asked him, smile fading into a more serious and solemn one. I brought my knitting.

Please, Link said gratefully, and took a slightly lower dose than normal before laying back down, and he watched Grace work quietly on a baby blanket for a while, his hand closing absently around the star fragment pendant.

Then his eyes closed, and he was just listening to the click of the needles.

Zelda and Little Link arrived late in the evening, when Honey was just slipping into a heavy doze again. Both of them looked young and fretful, and Little Link went to kneel by the door while Zelda remained standing, clinging loosely to the bars.

I’m sorry we couldn’t come sooner, Zelda said hesitantly, face pinched. Father has kept us busy. Are you alright?

Honey managed a smile, rolled over, and pushed himself upright. He yawned, blinking heavily, and scooted over to lean against the stone wall and give the two of them a weary smile. Ganon had subsided for now; perhaps the nauseating cycle of pain had gotten to him as well, or perhaps he simply couldn’t be bothered to put the effort in at the moment.

I’m alright, he signed, as reassuringly as he could, dropping his head against the wall beside him. Little Link tilted his head, lips pressed together unhappily.

You’re lethargic, he said.

Yes, well, painkillers remain my best friend, Honey said ruefully. His skin sizzled every time they wore off, so sleepy and dazed it was. But it’s just lavender, I promise. It’s not...

He trailed off and yawned, but he knew they’d understand. Occasionally Honey would have a bad day where the despair or the lifelong exhaustion would swamp him, and medicine or no medicine, he’d be in bed for most of the day. This situation was ripe for it. Fortunately, though, his friends and family were well-practiced at keeping his spirits up.

Is everything going alright out there? he asked instead, trying to distract them. The cleanup, the resettlement and repair?

The worry didn’t leave Little Link’s eyes, but he nodded. About half the town’s been called back already, to get things running again. They’re giving the swamp a generous berth. But all of the guardians are pacified, most of them have been put away, and everyone is calm. It’s well and truly over.

I can’t believe this! Zelda burst out, eyes glittering with the threat of tears. Everyone else came out just fine, but of all people, you’re the one that got hurt? That’s so- it’s divinely unfair! Why you? Why, of all of us, was it you?

Honey only wished he had an answer to that that wasn’t either selfish or untruthful, and instead he lowered his head, avoiding Zelda’s gaze, feeling the weight of exhaustion in full. Without meaning to, he caught Little Link’s eye instead, bright with concern and intensity, and Little Link leaned forward.

If there’s anything I can do to help you out of this, I will, Little Link said seriously, not looking away from Honey for a moment. No matter what it takes. If anyone thinks of anything, if I can find something... He took a breath, for a moment looking just as pained as Zelda. You don’t deserve this.

Their indignation on his behalf made Honey soften, feeling a little better just for the simple solidarity, and he found the energy to smile at them wryly.

I’m sorry, Zelda added, before Honey could find something to say. Her lips were pressed tightly together, eyes fixed to his with as much intensity as Little Link’s. I wanted to do better this time. I wanted to do it right. And I’m really, really sorry you got hurt because I didn’t.

Honey shifted himself more upright, meeting her eyes evenly.

It’s alright, he said firmly. You’re alive. That’s all I could have asked for. He smiled. Everything is going to be okay. I promise.

Both of them seemed to settle immediately, as if that reassurance from him was all they needed to be sure, and that was just as comforting as their shared frustration.

Like two little siblings he’d never had. Honey’s smile softened.

Come on, he added gently. I’m out of the loop. What’s being done?

Chapter Text

Like Mipha, Selwyn insisted on coming into the cell with Link. Still in full royal guard uniform, stained in such a way that it implied he hadn’t taken it off since the battle, he shut the door behind him and crossed the cell, sat beside Honey, and pulled him up into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry that I couldn’t keep you safe,” Selwyn said, low and raspy with exhaustion. Link laughed despite himself, and before he replied, he let himself sink into the hug for a moment, hugging Selwyn back just as tightly. Selwyn wasn’t much bigger than Link, but his hug was strong and certain, and there was very little that made Link feel as secure.

Finally, he pulled away from Selwyn and smiled at him, feeling warm and light despite his own lingering weariness.

Are you kidding? he signed to Selwyn. It went so well I can barely believe it. The shielding on our guardians worked. Hyrule still thrives. Zelda and Honey Nut both made it through without a scratch. Most of Castle Town is still intact, and so is the library. Every village from Tabantha to Outpost to Goponga is completely untouched. Not one person that faced the Calamity itself was killed or even maimed. It’s so much better than any of us had hoped for.

The only one that got hurt was you, Selwyn signed back, expression lined and weary. Link’s smile faded.

...Yeah, he agreed, and he still couldn’t bring himself to be happy or even relieved about it. Link was a hero, not a damned martyr.

Selwyn reached over to squeeze his hand briefly before speaking. Everyone in the guard is still on tenterhooks, he told Link. We won’t have truly succeeded until your body is your own again. There’s no discounting what we managed to win. But no one has forgotten about you.

Link managed to smile again, unspeakably grateful. Are Lief and Cedric alright? Honey Nut told me they were the worst injured.

I told Cedric he was too old, Selwyn sighed. He’s probably off the guard for good now, but he’ll be okay. He’s likely to have the same sort of muscle damage you do in his back, though.

And Lief? Link pressed.

That was a close one, Selwyn admitted. But Ambrose had one of your potions on him, and Cedric’s fairy helped too. All of his insides stopped being outside, at any rate.

Link winced, but managed a smile for Selwyn. Good. I’m glad it worked like it needed to.

Selwyn tangled his fingers in Link’s hair and tilted his head to look him in the eye.

“Everyone is alright,” Selwyn told him softly. “I’ll tell you that as many times as you need to believe it.”

Link’s smile eased a little, and he nodded, leaning into the touch.

I don’t like it when Ganon uses my voice, he signed out of nowhere, letting Selwyn hold his head steady. It’s like he’s telling a secret I didn’t realize I was keeping.

“Grace told me,” Selwyn admitted. “You’ve always had the strangest relationship with your voice. If it helps, I can’t even really bring myself to think of it as being yours. I’ve never heard you speak, and in those tones- you’ve heard Little Link speak. It’s always so soft, especially these days. It just doesn’t sound like you.”

But it is mine, Link signed plaintively. Selwyn exhaled, dropping his hand from Link’s hair to his arm, and squeezed again, firm and steady.

“Yes,” Selwyn agreed quietly. “But I hope it is a comfort to you that he cannot defile it in the eyes of your loved ones.”

It would have to be. Link sighed and nodded.

“You look like you’re in pain again,” Selwyn added, when Link didn’t otherwise reply. “Do you want me to help you get back to sleep?”

Link nodded, and didn’t resist when Selwyn guided him horizontal, easing some of the burden off inflamed and burning scar tissue. He didn’t bother covering himself, but pushed his nose into leaf-litter scented fabric, and focused on where Selwyn’s arm was still pressed against his.

Selwyn didn’t speak again, just brushed his fingers rhythmically back and forth, up and down Link’s forearm. It was a soothing motion, and easily lulled Link toward sleep, his thoughts growing quieter and quieter.

He was almost there when his eyes snapped open, and he shoved himself upright, elbowing Selwyn roughly away. Selwyn met his eyes and recoiled, soft concern turning almost instantly to hatred. Disregarding this entirely, Link’s body grabbed Selwyn’s wrist in a punishing grip and yanked him toward the door, then shoved him against it with brutal strength.

“Get out,” Ganon hissed at Selwyn, matching hatred for hatred. “No one gets a happy ending in this story.”

“You’re a specter of spite and hatred,” Selwyn said coldly, without even trying to pull away. “You don’t know what a happy ending is.”

Ganon sneered at him, but let go and turned away, sprawling upright on the bed with the same sort of pained grunt Link himself would have made with the motion, and glared at Selwyn until the man gave in, backing out of the cell and locking it as soon as he was out.

He didn’t leave then, just sat outside the cell door and watched, and only a few more minutes passed before Ganon released his grip on Link, and Link dropped across his bed with a shuddering hiss, fisting his hands into his clothing.

“Link?” Selwyn called softly. Link spread his hand against his shoulder, as if to smother a fire there. “It’s going to be alright.”

Link nodded silently, and Selwyn didn’t move until Link did, eventually, take some medicine and drop off.

You’ve grown weak over the millennia, Ganon said to Link, when he was so close to asleep that he wasn’t sure the voice wasn’t a dream. He didn’t answer, and Ganon continued, I’ve known heroes that could fight through fire, walk on broken legs, walk into hell and walk back out. But now- now you are soft and frail and pitiful. How have you allowed yourself to fall to this?

You did this to me, Link replied at last, with hatred and venom he didn’t know he was capable of. I’ve seen you bring Hyrule to its knees, gut its people and its legacy, destroy my world until there was nothing left of it. I have seen Zelda choke and wheeze on her own blood and slime, I woke up to her cold hand still holding mine and I was relieved. Every night for months I have had nightmares like I have not had since I was sixteen. What strength am I supposed to have left?

How should I know? Ganon asked sardonically, only half succeeding in his attempt to not seem unnerved. In every other lifetime, I have robbed you of friends, of family, of history and everything you have ever known, and you have always found more to draw from before. That is the foundation your legend is built on, is it not, hero of courage?

Well, I haven’t, Link returned bitterly. I have nothing left to spend. You took that from me too, when you stole every day that I spent shivering in pain, every hour I’ve panted and cried from fear, every night I lay awake knowing that the next time I fought you would be the day I died. When you scooped me out and left me hollow, so that I had to fill myself with dirt and leaves and blood and hope it held. Congratulations. You found my limit.

Ganon didn’t reply for a while after that, and some of Link’s anger ebbed away into exhaustion, leaving him bobbing in the darkness again, barely aware of his pillow under his cheek and the blanket loosely grasped in one hand.

But still you do not surrender, Ganon said at last, even and pensive. Do you truly hate me that much?

I don’t hate you, Link answered, throwing his own words back at the shade. But I am so afraid of you, and I will never forgive you for that.

Ganon laughed, echoing and distant and ragged. There’s your courage, he replied softly. Completely spent, you still do not flinch from me.

A few minutes passed.

I have seen you hurt, you know, Ganon said suddenly. Hyrule so often does not remember to see you as one man among many, but I have never forgotten. I have seen you bleed. I have grabbed you by your throat and thrown you aside, and seen you disfigured, angry, and yes, I have seen you afraid.

Do you want a gold star?

Ganon barked a laugh. One sees strength differently when they have seen weakness, he replied. But I confess, I have long been jealous of you. What a boon it must be, to forget each lifetime as it passes by.

Speak for yourself.

Always. Ganon sighed. But for all that- I don’t think I’ve ever seen you bitter before. I’d almost venture to say it is amusing. You have always been such a sweet child.

Pause.

What I mean to say is- I know the structure of your soul more intimately than a lover. But still you find ways to surprise me. If this is you at your limit, then I can only say that Hylia has chosen a fine champion indeed.

Link took a minute to comb through that, frowning. Was that an undisguised compliment, Ganon?

It was meant to be, Ganon said with amusement.

Why?

Need it serve a purpose?

Link didn’t reply, confused and wary, and Ganon did not elaborate. Perhaps he did not know himself. For all his anger, his resentment, and his spite, he had done very little yet except lash out like an injured beast.

Link supposed that he, too, was spent.

Ganon, Link said suddenly. When there is nothing left to lose, you can still suffer.

So you said only the other day.

Did you listen?

Ganon didn’t answer.

Link wasn’t expecting Sooga to come, so his voice made him jump sharply and turn around, startled eyes landing on the masked Yiga. Link blinked at him owlishly, and Sooga repeated his words.

“Are you yourself?”

Link blinked again, and then spun around to plant his feet on the floor, wincing at the yank of skin and muscle. It didn’t distract him, though, and he immediately started to sign, I saw what happened during the fight, it looked like you got dashed with malice pretty bad. Did it heal at all? Are you alright?

Sooga was silent for a minute, but Link didn’t look away. He didn’t care if this was the first time he’d expressed such outright worry for Sooga; this was malice.

“...I am fine,” Sooga said eventually, his hand pressing high on his stomach where he’d been hurt. “The injuries did not heal completely, but nor are the remnants very noticeable.” He hesitated, and then added, “I understand you better now. I did not know it was possible to be in so much pain.”

Link exhaled and nodded solemnly, and only then gave in. What did you need?

“I want to speak to the Calamity,” Sooga said.

Link frowned, studying him for a moment, and then said, Speak and he’ll hear you, but I don’t think either of us knows how to switch voluntarily.

Sooga nodded in acknowledgement.

“In another lifetime, the Yiga served you across generations,” Sooga said, impenetrable behind his mask. “But when you came to power, the Yiga met the same fate as all others. Your loyal followers fell into ruin and desperation. Was there ever any truth to the claim that you cared any more for the Sheikah than Hyrule did?”

Link heard Ganon scoff, but there was no stirring in Link’s soul. He shook his head at Sooga, and Sooga made a sound of irritation.

“Straight to other matters, then,” Sooga said briskly, and then, to Link’s surprise, “What purpose does it serve to keep Link hostage? You have only placed the both of you in an indefinite limbo, imprisoned beneath the castle by stone instead of spells. Why?”

There was a split second’s pause, and then Sooga’s fingers twitched. Then Link’s mouth smiled coldly.

“Have you never done something out of pure spite, Yiga? Hurt someone for the satisfaction of hurting them, lashed out to pass the pain of your own life from yourself to another?”

“No,” Sooga said, without looking away. “I haven’t.”

“A man of admirable tenacity,” Ganon replied, tone not changing in the least. “But I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I lack the secondary motivation that you would need to manipulate me. I will be here, like a chain around Link’s throat, for as long as I have the strength to stay.”

“What will it take to make you leave?” Sooga asked instead of answering.

Ganon scoffed again, and then Link was in control again, shaking his head and then his hands. He looked up at Sooga, oddly worn out.

Sorry, he said. I’ve been talking to him too, but there’s not a lot to work with. He’s running on fumes, I think.

Sooga was quiet for a moment.

“So this is how long it takes for a curse like this to run its course,” he said at last, quietly. “Ten thousand years, before the souls within the spell give out under the pressure of the magic sustaining it.”

Link gave Sooga a wry smile.

It means a lot that you tried, he told him, and he meant it.

Chapter Text

Impa’s visit was a surprise, though after all this time it shouldn’t have been.

“How are you doing?” she asked softly, kneeling down as if to meditate to look into the cell. Everyone I’ve spoken to says you’ve seemed idle. That’s not like you.

Link smiled faintly, blinking through the sleepy haze of lavender, and after a moment rolled off the bed to mirror her position, so they faced each other through the bars of his cell. His skin hummed like the sound of an electric arrow in action, but the feeling was easy to ignore.

It’s complicated, he admitted. But I promise my head’s above water. There’s just... not a lot I can do for myself right now, and I can’t even bring myself to be angry about it. But I can keep myself okay. That’s something.

That’s something, Impa agreed wryly. She knocked her fist on the bars, rattling them. You weren’t supposed to get hurt, you dummy. A lot of people came back early to search through history books and legends and ancient magic tomes – anything they can do to help. Just hang in there. You’ll be okay.

You’re a good friend, Link told her, dropping his gaze to the stone. After a moment, he heard Impa sigh.

“Oh, hell with it,” she muttered, and a moment later he started as he heard the door open, then close and lock. Then she sat down beside him and pulled him into a one-armed hug. The lethargy made him flop down onto her, making both of them let out an ‘oof.’ Then she caught him into a loose headlock, and he lazily propped himself up into a more comfortable position while she said, “You know Grace hasn’t stopped thinking about you since she found out what happened? I think every meal she’s made since then has had honey. My teeth are going to rot out of my skull.” Link snickered into her shoulder. “And I haven’t either. I want you to know that.”

Link softened, pushed himself up enough that she loosened her grip, and gave her a tired smile once he was upright.

I’m really not scared, he confessed to her. I know I probably should be, but I’m not. He clicked his tongue a couple of times. It’s just... it was supposed to be over, Impa. This was supposed to be the last thing. I wanted it to be over.

Impa bumped him, eyes solemn. I know, she agreed. You’ve done your duty and then some. But bear with it a little while longer. Aren’t you looking forward to being free? You and Mipha can finally take a trip across the ocean without worrying.

Link laughed a little, smiling wistfully. Yeah... yeah. She’s taken to talking about it to distract me. She has sea charts and everything, and Sidon tells me she’s planning a surprise. Probably a scavenging thing. It’ll be fun.

Yeah, it will be, Impa promised.

You’re relieved of your duty to me and Zelda and Honey Nut now, Link added thoughtfully, leaning back a little. He rubbed his face. What are you going to do?

What do you think I’m going to do, dummy? Impa asked. I’m not going anywhere, and not just because I’m common-law with your sister. It’s been too long for us to forget about each other now, and I wouldn’t want to. I’ll be waiting for you when you and Mipha get back from wherever you take off to, and you better not forget to bring me something.

Link smiled broadly, and after a moment realized that his heart felt lighter.

Maybe a matching necklace, he said on impulse, and when Impa tilted her head, he tapped the star-fragment pendant of the necklace Grace had loaned him. So you and Grace can both have one.

Impa stared at him, and then flushed, looking embarrassed but pleased.

“You’re such an overachiever,” she said out loud.

They talked a little more after that, but before too long, Link was leaning against Impa’s shoulder again, and then he was slipping down, and by the time he fell asleep, she was lowering him into her lap, looking fond.

Eileen joined the list of people who walked right into Link’s cell to sit with him, though Mary, with her, remained just outside of it, sitting by the door to watch Eileen fuss over Link.

“I thought you could use some comfort food,” she said, setting a plate by his knee – bread smeared with honey, a treat that had quickly become one of Honey’s favorites. Link picked a piece up and bit into it. “How are you feeling? Emotionally, of course, but I’ve been hearing that you’ve been in a lot of pain too.”

Link grimaced, leaning back to chew thoughtfully on the bread for a while before he answered. Ganon’s presence is making it worse, I think. It’s like just the painful part of sinking into hot water. He sighed. I could probably try to adapt if I wasn’t so stressed. Hopefully it’s just temporary.

Eileen made a soft sound of agreement, reaching over to rub his back reassuringly. “Have you been having nightmares?”

Not like I expected, Link said, giving her a small smile. I mean, considering how much I’ve been sleeping you’d think I’d have a lot. But no. Honestly most of the day is just... quiet. He waved vaguely at the bookshelf. I’ve read most of those half a dozen times each.

“Do you want me to bring some new ones in?” Eileen asked. Link shook his head instantly.

I like it, it’s comforting. I have all my favorites here anyway.

“Of course,” Eileen said with a smile, and leaned over to hug Link quickly. “Everything is going to be okay, Honey. I promise. And I can’t wait to have you back home.”

Link was hit with an unexpected wave of longing, and had to shake it off before he answered. I know. I believe you. Really.

Eileen smiled at him, and then took a breath and looked at Mary. “Mary?”

Mary shrugged. “If you’re done.”

“Oh, if we wait for me to be done you’ll never get a chance,” Eileen said ruefully. “It’ll be good for us to have some time after. Link, honey, I’ll be right back inside, okay?”

Okay? Link echoed, confused. Eileen stepped outside the cell and locked the door behind her, and Mary crossed her legs, looking at Link. Mary?

“I want to talk to Ganon,” Mary said bluntly, with steely eyes and the same winestain birthmark coloring most of her cheek ruddy.

Link tilted his head, and was immediately hit with a wave of vertigo. Link’s body shook itself out gently, and then Ganon lifted Link’s hand and examined it, frowning hard as he flexed Link’s fingers.

“Perfectly on cue. How peculiar,” he murmured, and then looked up to Mary. Link’s stomach turned at the sound of his own voice, as it always did, and Eileen inhaled sharply. “You have your brother’s eyes. That’s a rare thing.”

“I’ve gotten that compliment before, but it’s still one of my favorites,” Mary said without smiling, hands folded neatly in her lap. “I’ve been to Gerudo Town a couple of times. I can tell you how they’re doing if you’ll talk to me.”

Link’s eyebrows lifted. “You won’t get anything of use from this, girl.”

“Humor me,” Mary said.

Ganon studied her for a moment, and then, unexpectedly, acquiesced. “How did you know I would be interested in the Gerudo?”

“I didn’t,” Mary said. “But Gerudo oral history goes back far, and Urbosa’s mentioned your history before. I thought that you might be. How did that work? Even when the Gerudo birth masculine children, Urbosa says almost all of them prefer to be vai.”

Ganon laughed raggedly. “It’s easy to pass yourself off as a member of the current generation if your people are scattered across the desert, girl. No one knew where anyone had come from in those days, or who their parents were. All I had to do when I dragged myself from the seal was lose myself in the desert, and then reintroduce myself to my people. Gerudo Town... have they truly settled enough to put down roots?”

Mary nodded. “Gerudo Town is thriving. It’s a beautiful town, Ganondorf, with one of the best markets in Hyrule. There’s even a second market halfway between the edge of the desert and the town itself, where voe can stay and shop.”

“Good. That’s good.” Ganon exhaled. “Their status?”

“Treasured allies,” Mary said. “Their friendship with Hyrule is as unbreakable as the Zora, the Gorons, and the Rito... though arguably not as much so as the Sheikah.” She tilted her head and considered for a moment. “There are several mixed markets around Central Hyrule – the Maritta Exchange, Outpost Town, and Castle Town itself of course. I’d argue that the Gerudo are the stars of those markets as well. Friendship with the Gorons is profitable for them; they work wonders with gemstones and metal.”

“They always have,” Ganon said quietly.

“You’ve known my brother a long time,” Mary said to him, eyes fixed and unwavering. Eileen clasped her hands together, lips tight and thin. “Has he always been the same as he is now? I’ve wanted to know since we found out who he is.”

“So that is what you truly wish to speak of,” Ganon murmured, giving her a bitter smirk. “The distant past, is that it?” Mary didn’t reply. “No. Your brother has changed much over the millennia, as have I. Let’s see... My memory no longer stretches all the way to the beginning, but in the youth of his soul, Link was a soft creature. His steel only became apparent with age. In the more distant past I’ve watched him spend days or weeks pacing the same stretches of land, going in circles – I could never tell if he was lost or if he simply enjoyed it. Sometimes he would lay down and sleep, right there in the grass or the shrubbery.”

“That sounds like him,” Mary said quietly. Ganon pulled Link’s mouth into a smile.

“Yes. If nothing else, I can tell you that he has never fundamentally changed. Only experience ages him, as it does me.” He sighed, examining Link’s open palm again, and then turning it over to the triforce. “Zelda’s line... I did not expect it to remain intact for so long. Fire runs in that family, I think- willful, defiant, dedicated. There are few other bloodlines that could have led Hyrule back into prosperity with every generation. I have not seen terribly much of this Zelda, but I have little doubt that she will be a wonderful queen in her day.”

“Link adores her,” Eileen said quietly. “The only worry he’s ever had with her is that she’ll burn herself up serving Hyrule.”

Ganon nodded, unsurprised. “I was once different as well,” he said, unprompted. “I always did care for the Gerudo – I wanted the best for them, though the wasting curse on my soul blinded me until I did them little but harm as well. But oh, did I always wish to see them thrive as well as Hyrule did. I remember now- I was jealous of Hyrule’s prosperity. I wanted to take it for my people.” He set Link’s hand down on the bed. “I suppose that does not matter now. At least they are doing well enough without my influence.”

“Better than ever,” Mary said evenly. “You’d have done them a favor if you’d stayed dead.”

Ganon barked a laugh, startled and mirthful. “You come by those eyes honestly. Yes- yes, I suppose I would have, but I’m afraid this is the most sanity I have had in centuries. Have you ever touched malice, girl? Have you ever been wrapped in it, boiled in it, marinated in it? I have. I am not your brother; I am not so pure of heart. The corruption sank much deeper than my body from the very first time I touched it.”

“I don’t care,” Mary said sharply. “You don’t truly know what you did to Link. You haven’t lived with him for the last seven years.” She jerked her head, sharp and irritable. “He’s so tired all the time, and he’s Grace’s age. It’s disgusting. My brother shouldn’t be a twenty-five year old centenarian.”

Ganon chuckled, then laughed, and there was an edge to it that Link couldn’t identify in his own voice; he was sure he’d never heard it. He ran Link’s fingers through his hair and sighed.

“It was not always this way,” Ganon said softly. “A long, long time ago, I knew your brother so well. I remembered a time before the curse.” He shook Link’s head. “I don’t remember anymore, but I remember remembering. And I know...”

He stretched, reached up, and scratched the back of Link’s head, under the hair.

“The Link and Zelda of this generation are terrified of me,” he said at last. “It’s not hatred; it is a blind and bestial fear, the kind with the power to reduce you to an animal yourself. They have never been so afraid of me before, even when I met Link as a child. They’re both too defiant, too confident, too clever... They have feared me as a wise man fears his enemy, but they have never before feared me as a rabbit does a wildfire. It’s...” He trailed off, staring at nothing. “It was not always this way.”

There was something like grief in his voice.

Chapter Text

Tell me again about the time and place you come from, Little Link said to Honey, soft and intent. Tell me about when you first woke up.

Honey furrowed his brow – Little Link hadn’t asked him about his time in a while, probably because he knew all Honey’s stories by heart. But then it clicked. You want Ganon to hear it?

Little Link nodded. Please? He does feel pity, and grief, and regret. Maybe it will help. If not, maybe you’ll feel better for having told him.

Maybe. Honey sighed, leaning against the wall to pull up what was now a memory nearly a decade old. I spent weeks on the Great Plateau when I first woke up. Mary was complaining about how easily I tire now, but you have no idea. I was so weak when I first crawled out of the shrine. I collapsed in exhaustion so often that most of the time I wasn’t even tired enough to sleep – I’d just lay there until my body recovered enough to move. Everything hurt so much. I didn’t even realize for weeks that it wasn’t normal to be in so much pain.

I’ve never asked, Little Link said suddenly, and Honey hummed in question. Were you as angry about it then as you are now? You’ve become so bitter about everything you’ve lost. You must have had some idea even then.

Honey chuckled quietly in comprehension and shook his head. To be honest, I don’t think there was enough of me awake to feel bitter. In the earliest days I was living minute by minute, then hour by hour. I couldn’t even really comprehend the idea that I had a past at all. If you’d told me about Mom and Dad then, about our sisters, I think I would have just stared at you blankly.

I wish I could have been there for you like you’ve been here for me, Little Link said to him. Honey’s chest twinged with warmth, and he smiled at Little Link softly.

You’re here for me now. That’s enough, he said firmly, and then let his mind wander back to the broken ruins of the Great Plateau. I actually had to go back, after everything, to look at the ruins there again. When I woke up, they were just... there. I didn’t think about them much. But later, when I knew more about what had happened, I went back to the plateau, and I was able to reconstruct a lot of what happened there. The sealed shrine, the guardians broken down with age, the shattered temple... it made sense later. But it was too abstract to truly understand right away. That was probably for the best.

Didn’t you go back before that?

No- not really. Not until the monks sent me there. I couldn’t tell you why. Perhaps I was afraid of being trapped there again. I avoided it at all costs, even when I had to go far around.

You never said anything.

Honey huffed a laugh, eyes on the middle distance. I was only afraid the first time, here. So much more had broken and fallen apart than I ever realized. It’s such a lively place in these days. Not so empty. Even when it’s not in use, you can tell it’s meant for celebrations. I love it.

Where else do you want him to know about?

Without meaning to, Honey let out a cracked, pained sound, turning his face against the stone. Little Link’s focus instantly dropped, turning into worry.

Sorry, was that too far? Little Link asked anxiously. I promise I’m listening too. I just- I was hoping you could get closure from this. You need it.

Honey managed a smile for his little brother. You’re probably right. Mipha’s actually been hinting toward that too, but... He closed his eyes, took a breath, and focused, reminding himself that he had to fight for his healing too. Tabantha Village broke my heart every time I went there, but there’s a road that goes right through it – I didn’t have much choice. Hardly any of the monsters there had weapons, certainly not Hylian-made ones. They had... torches, mops, hoes. Soup ladles, pot lids. And every time, I could only think- there must not have been any soldiers left when they took that village. Everything they looted was from townsfolk.

It’s never been a soldier’s settlement, Little Link signed softly. Even now it’s not. It’s more or less a town for tourists and travelers, isn’t it?

Honey laughed a little and nodded. Yeah... I really like it. It’s a small town, but friendly. It didn’t deserve that. None of them did. He closed his eyes and sighed, but opened them again before he continued. Deya Village haunted me until I visited it here. It looked like it had been drowned; there wasn’t a bit of it where I wasn’t at least calf-deep in water. All of the wood was rotten and fragile, and even the stones were worn smooth – where they hadn’t been freshly broken by the talus that lived there, anyway. Even now that I know why it looked like that, the memory is still unsettling.

Of course it is, Little Link signed. Now you know what it looks like full of people.

Honey’s breath hitched, startling him, and he nodded stiffly. Yeah. But it’s still better to know that it collapsed into the water, rather than the water having a hand in its destruction. He shook his head. I don’t know why it’s better. But it is.

He paused for a moment, letting his mind wander, the pain in his heart growing as he pulled up memories of a far-away time.

Akkala... Akkala was full of ruins. Easily as many as Central Hyrule had, except they were all so small. None of them were marked. Honey shook his head sharply, feeling his throat tighten. I never would have guessed they were Sheikah settlements. Not for a moment. In that time not a single Sheikah soul lived outside Kakariko. It was just too dangerous. Everywhere was so dangerous.