Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a comfortable mid-morning in Tarrey Town. The sky was cloudless, but a warm breeze promised light showers in the afternoon. Despite being backed up by the Sheikah Slate’s weather forecast, Link could almost smell it in the air. He had just finished picking off a few Guardians below the town, trying to make sure it remained safe. Once he finished cooking his hearty radish soup with tiny flakes of truffle, a hint of goron spice and topped off with slices of hot pepper, he would sit under someone's roof and watch the rain. He was calling it “spicy radish soup,” which wasn’t very creative, but seemed promising in terms of flavor. 

While he stirred his soup over the communal cooking pot, he spotted Hudson in the corner of his eye. Hudson was an old friend— they hadn’t spoken in a while, but Link knew from hearsay that he had built a new house here and now a couple and their little boy had moved in. Really, he hadn’t talked to anyone in Tarrey Town recently. Conversation with normal townsfolk bored him. It was always the same news: sometimes pointless gossip, other times  worries about the Calamity and the state of the roads. Hudson was a little different. A man of few words, he usually went straight to the point in a conversation. Link turned and waved at him, and the mustachioed man lumbered over and sat down on the ground across from him.

“What are you making?” Hudson peered at Link’s concoction. 

“Spicy radish soup,” Link replied, wafting a bit of steam up to his nose. “It will be ready soon.” 

Hudson leaned over and took a whiff of the bubbling soup. “It looks good.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about expanding someday to that valley below us again. Once it's safe.”

 Link’s eyes shifted lazily up towards Hudson. “Thank you. Hopefully it will not be like my last dish here. That was a disaster.” 

“Could you get rid of the Guardians? Permanently?”

Link felt a knot form in his stomach. He didn't like disappointing people. “It will be fine. I was joking.” 

“About guardians?” 

“No, the soup.” 

“What about the guardians?” 

Link frowned. “Will you pass the grater?” He held out his hand in Hudson’s general direction. The man leaned down, picked up a grater on the other side of the cooking pot, and handed it to him. Link took it and began grating a chunk of salt he had pulled out of his pack. Then he took one finger and dipped it into the stew, testing the flavor. “Guardians are controlled by the Calamity like other monsters. It is impossible to permanently get rid of them.” 

Hudson glanced to one side. “I know.” He turned back to Link with a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “I got a message from some folks nearby. They—“

“They what?” Link interrupted, his expression quickly changing to one of annoyance. 

“Hold on, I’m getting to it!” Hudson didn’t seem to notice. “The tech lab a day’s walk from here? They said you’re avoiding them. They want to talk to you.” 

Link visibly sank, his head dipping down as he stared with a vacant expression at his soup. He wasn’t hungry anymore. It took him well over a minute to look back up at Hudson and murmur “Yes.” 

“They told me what you’ve been doing. It’s been three years since I built this town. I told you not to tarry here,” Hudson’s bushy eyebrows furrowed. “You didn’t listen.” 

“I have been dealing with other things.” 

“Those are more important than your duty as a Champion?”

Of course, Hudson was right in a sense. Link was all too aware of his purpose in this world. Unfortunately things were complicated now, complicated in a way someone like Hudson couldn’t possibly understand. Link was a piece in a puzzle lasting millennia, a cosmic spiderweb of gods and souls bound by thin golden thread. It was sometimes too much to bear. He was angry, angry at the inevitability of everything he did, angry that the only real thing left to do was to go to the castle and be a servant for the rest of his life, angry that—

Link felt a large, sturdy hand on his shoulder. He jumped, turning his head sharply to stare at Hudson, who had walked over to his side of the cooking pot and was standing behind him.

 “Your soup’s boiling over.” 

Link glanced back at the cooking pot. The poor soup had begun bubbling over the rim of the pot and into the fire. He rushed over, spoon in hand, and rapidly stirred it while grabbing one end of the heavy pot to prepare to lift it off the fire. Link jerked his hand back as he touched the metal. It was far too hot, but his soup was the priority. The pot burnt his fingers but he gritted his teeth and bore the pain as he hoisted it up and over to the side of the cooking fire. The soup didn’t look burnt, at least. He stuck his fingers in his mouth as he recovered from the disaster. 

Hudson, still standing behind him, chuckled a little at the predicament. “Quite a rescue there.” 

Link grimaced. “Do you have any bowls?” 

“A few.” Hudson smiled. “Can I have some soup?” 

Link nodded. 

Hudson strolled away and came back with two bowls, a large pot, and a ladle. He scooped up the hot soup bit by bit into the pot, and when he finished, he beckoned Link into his home— just in time as well, as they could hear a light rain drumming on the roof as they shut the door. The house was empty, though evidence of Rhondson still lay strewn about: a picture of her mother hanging on the wall, a small workbench littered with pincushions and tiny scraps of cloth, fabric patterns and measuring tape placed neatly in a corner. Next to it were the half-finished pieces of a baby’s crib. Was Hudson having a baby? Why was Rhondson going on a trip, then?

“Where is Rhondson?” Link said. He didn't ask about the crib.

“She went to see her mother in Gerudo Town.” With a grunt Hudson lifted the pot onto their dining table. He took a bowl and ladled a generous helping of soup into it before handing it to Link. 

“That is a very bad idea, because of the roads,” Link said. “They closed down Riverside Stable. There is a new type of Guardian patrolling some of the roads closer to Hyrule Field as well.” They were Skywatchers, but he didn’t expect Hudson to know that. 

“I know. She said she could handle it. I trust her,” Hudson replied. “I’m worried though. Have you seen her?” 

“No.” Link raised his bowl and took a long draught of the soup. It was just the right amount of spicy, while still retaining the delicate flavor of the radishes. The truffle added an excellent rush of extra taste. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s no problem.” Hudson sighed and served himself a bowl of soup. 

The two ate in uncomfortable silence for a long while. Eventually the rattling rain on the roof subsided, and Link thanked Hudson for his time before leaving. It was already late afternoon. Time seemed to slip past him these days, and he only noticed when he felt like he was wasting it. He decided to be more discreet than usual, and stepped behind a building before opening his Sheikah Slate and teleporting back to Hateno.

The storm seemed to have traveled south, as Link was met with a torrent of rain when he arrived in Hateno Village. It didn’t matter to him much. He took a deep breath to smell the petrichor, then strolled away to his house on the edge of town.

 After four years of work, Link’s house had changed quite a bit. Not only did he have a small vegetable garden on one side of his house abundant with pumpkins and carrots, but Hudson had helped him build a cellar and additional room for his house (after a hefty fee, of course.) Emergency cellars were popular these days, and even though Link doubted he would need one he didn’t mind having extra room for his preserve jars and dried food. Worst case scenario, he could invite any neighbors caught outside during a monster attack while he fended the monsters off.

In the back, he had started to introduce different types of fish to his pond, as well as planting cherry trees and a weeping willow along the perimeter. A family of ducks had made their home in a thicket nearby. Link had watched them for hours as they built their nest and swam on the pond. He fed them little bits of bread and fruit, and now they would let him sit fairly close as long as he didn’t make any sudden movements. 

Link wiped his dripping bangs out of his face as he stepped inside his house. After drying his shoes on a mat, he exchanged them for woolen slippers and walked promptly over to his new kitchen. After a great deal of effort, Link had built himself a fireplace there. It was small, but manageable— he had more room for a stack of firewood to feed the flames, and it was easier to clean. He sat down next to it, wedging a few pieces of firewood on the ashes before pulling a stick out of his slate and snapping it in half for kindling. Then he lit the fire with a piece of flint and a kitchen knife he had left out. After a few puffs of air, the fire was crackling merrily. Link gazed into the fire, letting his mind wander away into nothingness. 

He’s right, you know. Poor speck. You’re ruining their lives.

She was right on time. Her voice rang inside his head as it usually did when he was alone. Link didn’t respond. 

Link?

He looked at his hands. The skin on his burnt fingers was starting to peel. He could probably find a salve—

I’m speaking to you, Link. I expect a response.

“I don’t have anything to say, Your Grace. I’m sorry.” 

I understand. 

After a few moments of silence, Link assumed she had left. He stood up with a groan and stretched his neck and shoulders before opening a cabinet filled with tiny jars with various labels. 

Oh, you’re so much different than you used to be. When you were seven you used to pray such sweet things— prayers for rain, prayers that the flowers in your mother’s garden would grow faster—except the one time you were angry at your sister and wished she was dead! You were so diligent! I was never disappointed in you then. Now you won’t even talk to me. 

“I didn’t know.” Link pulled out a salve made of white chuchu jelly and aloe, and began applying it to his fingers. “What else did I pray about?” 

I shouldn’t indulge you with too much of your past, but I’ll oblige. Your first prayer was with your father. You were three, and you barely understood what was happening, but you prayed for my blessing. I was thrilled to meet you again!

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it.” 

Unbearably long, even for my standards. I truly began to think the cycle we are bound to was over. When you do retrieve my vessel and destroy the Calamity, I imagine you will live a long, happy life afterwards serving her.

He loathed the idea. One hundred years ago, he had served the vessel and failed her miserably. In her mercy, she had brought him back for a second chance. He wasn’t sure why. There were rumors that she had loved him, and he couldn’t understand it. In the memories he had recovered of her, she seemed inhuman. Her face was shrouded in light, and she spoke only of the goddess. The other champions and even the king regarded her with awe. Nevertheless she was frail and needed protection. She terrified him, but he obliged. He was her right hand, her silent sword, her knight. 

“Yes, that would be very good, Your Grace.” Link mumbled.

It would be! You’d make everyone happy instead of patching over problems with your sorry compromises. 

“Of course.” 

Why don’t you then?

Link shrugged. 

For the thousandth time, please use your words, Link.

“Oh, I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like the right time.”

(A/N 2025: here's the second sketch I ever drew of GBoH Link :) )

Chapter Text

Link slept like a log that night, then woke up at five o’clock sharp. Jumping out of bed, he put on his favorite tunic in record time. He had worn it yesterday, but it didn’t smell bad yet. If he had time, he noted, today would be a good day to do laundry. After combing his hair he rushed outside to exercise. A jog up to the lab would help him shake off any drowsiness he had. He passed the first few houses, waving as he saw an early riser poke their head out from the balcony. A few wandering merchants had retired and now occupied the houses Bolson Construction had built when Link first arrived in Hateno Village. 

Before he could run down the stairs to the main road, a blue laser flickered onto his forehead. He stopped, and grinned. Purah had turned on the defense turrets today. That probably meant she had spotted monsters nearby. 

“IDENTIFY YOURSELF,” The turret commanded, its laser pointer wavering slightly. 

Link strolled up to the turret, then put a hand on it, staring into its single eye. “Link, from up the road.” 

“IDENTIFIED. A LARGE GROUP OF MONSTERS HAVE BEEN SIGHTED AT–OVLI PLAIN–PLEASE EXERCISE EXTREME CAUTION WHILE TRAVELING. HAVE A NICE DAY, CHAMPION LINK.” 

“Ovli Plain?” A chill rushed up Link’s spine as he glanced in the aforementioned area’s general direction. It was only a ten minute stroll from Hateno at best. A “large group of monsters” could mean anything from a few silver moblins to five lynels and a guardian, though. Oh well. His grin from earlier broadened as he leaned down to address the turret. “You have a nice day yourself.” 

Link jumped up, and ran back to his house to gather his weapons and supplies for the fight. The Sheikah Slate was on his dining table, sitting there with a plate and cup he had forgotten to wash last night. He grabbed it and put it on his belt. A part of him grumbled about making the fight too easy when he picked up a bow and sword he had scavenged from a lynel, but he reminded himself that whatever these monsters were, they were far too close to the village for comfort. Then he selected several bomb arrows he had stowed away for a time like this, as well as a hefty amount of regular ones. After finding his Hylian Shield he swiped a stray apple from a bowl on the table and headed out the door again. 

Link took off down into the fields, stuffing the apple into his mouth as he ran. He unfurled his paraglider and leapt off the small plateau Hateno Village sat on, scanning the area below as he sailed along. He spotted an unusual group of monsters in seconds. There were two moblins accompanied by a group of about ten silver bokoblins. A threat for sure, but nothing he couldn’t handle in about five minutes. He swung his paraglider to a hill just beyond them to prepare, then tipped forwards, causing him to dive down until just before he reached the ground, where he leaned back to cushion his landing.

 Dropping lightly to the earth, he walked behind the hill for cover, musing over a strategy as he ate the rest of his apple. Link peered at the gaggle of monsters. They were squabbling amongst themselves-- completely distracted from any attackers, he realized, as he crunched his apple loudly. He could take out a few bokoblins easily with the bomb arrows he had, then pick off the rest with his sword and regular arrows. If things were getting dull he could play with the stasis rune and bowl them into each other. Link tossed his apple core to the side, and with his bow ready he went out to face the monsters. 

The stupid things didn’t notice him until half of the group went flying. When they did, and the ones left standing drew their weapons on Link, he laughed and sent another three bomb arrows their way. Six of the bokoblins caught in the blast stopped moving. One of the moblins seemed dazed, but the other moblin and the four remaining bokoblins looked mostly unharmed. They set their bulging eyes on Link and rushed towards him. He stepped forward, sword in hand. 

The first bokoblin went in for a swing with its club, which Link barely had to sidestep before moving in and dispatching it with a well-timed hit on its neck. As he stepped back, he heard the whoosh of a sword, and blocked an incoming swing from the next bokoblin. Before he could attack it he saw one of the moblins hurtle towards him with a bone club twice his size. Link ducked out of the way, but that bokoblin didn’t see it coming. It shot across the plain like a flat stone on a pond, slamming its head into a ruined wall. Link doubted it would get up again. 

 He sucked in a breath, and decided to focus on the moblin first. With no apparent inhibitions, he swiveled on his heel, lazily rolling his eyes over to look at the beast. Keeping his sword to one side, he left his chest and head completely unguarded, challenging the moblin to land a hit. The moblin paused for a moment, looking at him with its wild eyes, but took the bait. It lifted its club to its side, leaning backwards to accommodate for its weight, then swung at Link’s head. He still didn’t move. The wind whistled in his ears, growing louder with each moment. Its face, though mostly unreadable, seemed to brighten as the club came closer and closer to connecting. It was barely a handbreadth away.

Then Link backflipped. Everything went still. The air seemed to hold itself in place, like a pool of ice water suspended around him. Link pushed his legs forward so he dropped onto his feet, then forced his way through, sliding through liquid air. After ducking under the frozen club that had just threatened his life he turned back and gave it a friendly tap before pushing through to face the moblin. He kicked himself up onto it, and watched time begin to quicken. By the time Link was high enough to see the moblin’s face its expression changed from glee to fear. The air around him whistled and swept away from his sword as he lifted it up with both hands, and with one swift movement he jammed it into the moblin’s chest. He could hear its bones crack as the sword wedged itself deeper into the moblin’s body. It let out a guttural scream. Link knew he couldn’t pull his sword out before it fell, so he pushed himself off its body and dropped to the ground, landing like a cat as the moblin’s body hit the ground. Then he trotted back to the body and yanked his sword out, glaring at the three remaining monsters. 

Even though their minds were twisted by the Calamity, Link had struck fear into the bokoblins. The two hesitated, then came at him, swinging their weapons frantically. Both had swords with glistening golden hilts. Link pounded his shield into the face of one, then locked swords with the other. The bokoblin didn’t let up– the silver ones were incredibly strong compared to their counterparts. Link kept his weapon steady for a good few seconds. His right palm started to sweat, and against his will, his arm began to shake. Locking eyes with his opponent, he shifted his weight further forward, trying to intimidate the bokoblin more, but the initial fear seemed to have worn off. The bokoblin growled, and kept its stance firm, though Link could see its fingers twitch around the pommel of its sword. He’d have to find a better opening, he realized. Movement from the other bokoblin caught his gaze in an instant. It had staggered forward, trying to attack as it recovered from the nasty blow in the head Link had given it. Link swung his shield around, and with a burst of strength forced the bokoblin that had locked swords with him to stumble away as he slammed the shield into its face. Now that it was dazed he killed it with two swings of his sword. The last bokoblin was too startled to resist as Link pounced on it like a lion, bashing its skull with a heavy blow to its head. It fell silently to the earth. 

The last moblin growled and stepped forward, making it clear to Link that it wasn’t about to cower away from him, but Link was determined to make quick work of this final monster. He took out his Sheikah Slate and pointed it at the moblin. Its massive claymore froze in midair with a yellow glow around it as it tried to swing at Link, and, confused by its sudden lack of a weapon, it stepped back. This was the only opening Link needed. He ran forward, slicing into one of the moblin’s comparatively tiny legs. It bellowed in pain, and pulled its leg up, making it easy for Link to hack at its side until it fell over. As it sprawled across the ground, Link raised his sword up again and stabbed it in the head. 

With that out of the way, Link dislodged his sword from the dead moblin’s head and took a moment to recover. Panting, he looked at the time on his Sheikah Slate and smiled. It had been just seven minutes since he left the house. Even though he fought monsters like these almost every day, he was impressed with how quickly he had defeated them. Against his better judgment he thought about asking Hylia if he was better now than he was before the Calamity. After all, his past self seemed to be an interesting conversation topic for both of them. 

Before he could think it over, sirens went off in the direction of Hateno Village. Link jerked around to find the cause of the noise, then realized something. Though usually elusive, Purah had been coming down from the lab lately to perform maintenance on the turrets and educate the villagers on what to do during a monster attack. During one of her demonstrations, she had mentioned something about an alarm system…

Wait, what?

Link’s eyes widened, and impulsively he dashed straight for the village.  How had the monsters gotten there so quickly? Had Purah and Symin not seen them? What were the villagers going to do? Maybe it was a test for the alarm system— but why would they do it on a day where there were monsters around? At least he was already armed. 

“Greetings, Champion.” 

Link skidded to a halt. He knew that voice. Narrowing his eyes, he searched for its source. It didn’t take him long to notice a nearby tree branch sagging under a heavy weight. A large Yiga sat there, the single eye on her mask boring into Link. His back straightened, and he raised his chin in mock curiosity as he turned to face her. 

“You again?” He sniffed. “Kohga knew better than to stick his neck out like this.” 

“Master Kohga did not lead in such dangerous times,” She corrected evenly. 

Link curled his lip. “As if you haven’t helped with that.” 

Over the past two years, the Yiga Clan had been becoming increasingly active in their hunt for Link. They harassed and threatened people he encountered, destroyed stables along roads he traveled, and stole weapons from him to try and build more. This particular Yiga was carrying a modified Guardian Sword. It was longer than the typical short sword found inside shrines, and it shone a bright orange instead of blue. Link wondered why they had changed such an insignificant part of the sword’s design, but the Yiga usually made no sense. Indeed, this one in particular–Kishu– he found to be the most nonsensical of them all. 

Kishu tensed, then sprung down from her tree, landing in front of Link neatly. She was massive— Link barely reached the middle of her torso, and he had grown a good few inches since he woke up in the Shrine of Resurrection. 

“Go away,” Link said, though he didn’t expect she would. 

Kishu chuckled. “How were those monsters? Too easy?” 

Link paused. He needed to get back to Hateno Village. The Sheikah Slate was already set to the stasis rune, so he whipped it out– but before he could activate it, Kishu’s foot flew into his face. He went sprawling across the ground and heard a clatter. There was nothing in his hands now. Link pushed himself up off the ground, but Kishu had already picked up his Slate and was twirling it around with her finger. 

“What’s this? Something you found on the side of the road?” Kishu asked. 

Link studied Kishu, then the precious item she had stolen from him. Her head was cocked to one side, and she paced around while she tapped the screen of his device, holding her hand to her mask in false surprise as the screen lit up. 

 Rage bubbled up inside Link. No one had ever tried to take his Sheikah Slate.  He stood up and leapt at Kishu, but as soon as he came close enough to hit her, she vanished into thin air. Link sucked in a breath and gritted his teeth, trying to contain his frustration as he whirled around to block a slice from Kishu’s sword. “Give that back."

“No,” Kishu snarled. “you hylian rat.” She teleported several paces away from him, then swung her sword in a diagonal arc. A beam of energy shot out from the sword.

 Link sidestepped the beam, but underestimated its length and felt the very edge of it cut into his arm. He winced. If he didn’t stay calm, he was as good as dead. “Funny you call me a rat—“ He heard the sound of slicing air behind him, and turned around again to block another attack from Kishu. “—when you’re the ones hiding in a hole!” Invigorated by his jab, he kicked her back, then swung at her legs, but it was too late. Kishu’s sword came inches from Link’s neck before he met it with his own and shoved it out of the way. 

“We’re cleverer vermin than you are, then.” Kishu remarked, slicing at Link again in a broad arc so quickly his first instinct was to step away. Kishu laughed, stepped forward, and did it again. Link stepped back. Was she getting into a rhythm? A split second later Link realized his mistake. Kishu advanced, seeming like she was going to swing at him, but instead kicked him down.  He hit the ground back-first, and before he could scrabble away she slammed her foot onto his chest like she was crushing an ant. Link gritted his teeth, but a small whimper escaped anyways. He moved his arm to try and hit her leg, but the pressure increased on his chest. Freezing in place, he glanced up at her. 

Kishu lifted her head high. Link couldn't see her expression, but he could tell how disgustingly proud of herself she was. She drew her blade a hair’s length away from a long scar across his face. “It scarred. Good.” 

Link let his face relax into a neutral expression, but his throat locked up. He wanted to cough—it felt like she was crushing his lungs— but he realized that if he moved her sword would cut into his cheek. Then the tip of her sword hovered back to the beginning of the scar. She dropped the point down half the length of a fingertip, sliding her sword into his cheek like butter, dragging the sword along the length of his scar like she was performing a surgery. Nevermind, then. 

“I really ought to kill you right now, but I want you to know why you deserve death. Murderous, cowardly, vile little creature. You tried to destroy my clan, then when we caught you in the act you ran away. With this, right?” She held up his Sheikah Slate. “Technology you stole!” 

Link coughed. Kishu’s blade went off course and dug into another part of his cheek. The wound felt like it was on fire, but he couldn’t help but snort.

“Stay still !“ Kishu stabbed the ground next to him. “These are the last few moments you have before you die! Don’t dishonor them more than you already have, cur!” 

She was losing her touch. Link decided he wasn’t going to lose his head over this, and began formulating an escape plan as she monologued. 

Kishu returned the edge of her sword to the spot it had veered off.  “Do you remember how you got this scar? I thought I had killed you. Do you remember that? How does that make you feel—AGH”

Kishu’s foot retreated swiftly once Link hacked at it with his sword. He had no time to lose. Rolling away from a stab he jumped to his feet and began a swing with his sword. She pulled up hers to block it. Before the weapons connected, Link swung around to give a sweeping kick to Kishu’s knee. Kishu let out a roar of pain and stumbled back, her giant frame keeling over as Link went straight for her head. 

Then she disappeared. Link glanced around frantically, but he couldn’t find her anywhere. He gripped the pommel of his weapon and waited for a few moments, but there was still nothing. Kishu had left. 

Unable to contain himself any longer, Link laughed aloud— half out of relief and half out of the ridiculousness of the whole situation. And she had called him a coward! “What an idiot!” Link shouted. “ Hylia above , she thought she could—“

He remembered suddenly that she had also taken his Sheikah Slate. Yiga clansmen could only teleport long distances twice per Blood Moon, as far as he knew: once to get to their destination, and once to get back to their hideout. If Kishu had used both, she was probably back at the hideout— but that was a four day journey from Hateno Village. The absolute best-case scenario would involve him traveling there, sneaking through to get his Sheikah Slate back, and getting out as quickly as possible. 

“ARRRRGH.”

(A/N 2025: here's a picture of Kishu without her mask on!)

Chapter Text

Link began running back to Hateno Village. The main road was surprisingly empty; a tense stillness hung heavy in the air. He walked through town, studying each building for any signs of life. One of the defense turrets looked like it had been sliced in half. Across the street from the broken turret, a large blackened spot on one of the houses made Link conclude that whatever it had fired upon hadn’t liked that very much. To his surprise, he glanced down below the spot and saw the charred body of a yiga footsoldier. The turret probably killed the footsoldier in one shot. The Yiga Clan usually didn’t fight to the death— they were cowards, and whenever it looked like they might lose, they tended to teleport away. He raised his eyebrows and looked back at the turret, impressed by its power. 

He continued walking. Many of the houses looked like they had been broken into— he slipped inside one and saw that the inhabitants’ belongings had been rummaged through. There didn’t seem to be any wounded people or bodies other than the yiga. 

 Before he could investigate further, he heard a groan coming from the Great Ton Pu Inn. Link jogged over, then slowed down as he reached the open door to the inn. When he stepped inside, he was greeted with quite the sight. A portly villager he often saw strolling outside had propped himself up against the inn’s front desk, hunched over and clutching his stomach.

“What happened here?” Link asked, rushing to him. Then he glanced down at the floor. A small pool of blood had collected around the man’s feet, and more of it had started to seep into his shirt. 

The man grunted in pain. When he finally spoke, his words were quiet. “Get help.” He winced, and slumped down further. 

“Where?” Link crouched down and put a hand on the villager’s shoulder, looking at him intently. “What happened?”  

“Hurts. No time. Get Sophie…” The man winced as he began to lose his strength, sliding down the side of the desk at a snail’s pace.

“In the shelters?” 

The man nodded. Link spared no time and ran to the nearest one. It was just outside the inn— apparently the man hadn’t been able to reach it. The emergency cellar was hidden by a metal door covered in a large slab of grass and sod. This made it difficult to detect, but inconvenient to open during emergencies. Usually two people had to hoist the door open while others ran inside. Link couldn’t properly knock on sod, so he slammed his arm on the door hoping he would be heard. 

“It’s Link! Someone was left outside. Is Sophie here?” He shouted. 

If he strained his ears, Link could hear gentle murmurs from inside the cellar. After a few moments, he heard a clearer voice. 

“Sophie’s not here. Is it safe out there now?” 

“Yes. The— attackers left.” Link looked back as a sort of failsafe. “What about—ah, Rhodes?” Rhodes had helped him with a small injury before. Link wasn’t sure of the full extent of Rhodes’s healing abilities but it was better than nothing. 

More murmurs, then another voice. “I’m here!”

“You can dress wounds?” Link asked.

“Yes, but Uma knows more about that than I do. Is it serious?” 

“It looks bad. I’ll be back when I find Sophie.” 

Multiple voices agreed with him. Link pushed himself back to his feet and ran towards the village entrance. Sophie would have most likely been at the clothing shop by the time the siren went off. Thankfully there was an emergency cellar right across from the store. He stopped right in front of it, and banged on the door. 

“Sophie? Are you in there?”

“…Yes?” Link heard a timid voice through the door. 

“Someone wants to see you. He was left outside. It doesn’t look good.” 

A small gasp of horror echoed outside the metal doors. A lock inside clicked, and the door began to open slowly. As soon as he could insert his fingers under the door, Link helped push it up, and soon met the terrified eyes of Sophie and the young farmer who lived across from the clothing shop. 

“Who is it? I—” Sophie looked like she was about to burst into tears. 

Link offered no comfort. “He’s at the inn.” 

Sophie stepped out of the cellar. Link beckoned for her to follow him, but before he could start walking Sophie had rushed ahead of him, beelining for the inn. Link loped behind her. He reached the inn a moment after her, and stepped inside. 

Several villagers were milling about the inn already, talking in low voices. They jumped as Sophie skidded to a halt, looking desperately for the man who had called her there. Link’s eyes slid over to the receptionist’s desk. The pool of blood had been hastily mopped up, leaving dark streaks across the wooden floor. He rounded a corner, and saw the man was lying on one of the inn’s downstairs beds. The old woman who sat near the well was tending to him, but her face was hardened. 

“Come here, Sophie. Your father wants to see you,” the old woman— Uma, Link realized— said. 

Sophie ran to the bed, and the wounded man’s arms went to wrap around the girl in a hug. 

“Are you going to be— please—“ Sophie managed to choke out. 

“Sophie. I don’t know.” The man’s voice was solemn.

Uma glanced up. Link must have caught her eye, as she shuffled towards him without a word, then leaned into his ear. “He hasn’t got long, I’m afraid. Will you stay?” 

Link shook his head. He had done what he could. “No. Thank you.” 

“Thank you for telling us where Seldon was. Poor Sophie will get some closure, at least.” Uma raised her eyebrows as she studied Link’s face. “Oh my, that cut on your face looks deeper than I thought. I can try to teach Rhodes how to stitch.” 

Without thinking, Link placed a hand on the wound. It stung, and when he pulled his hand away there was bright red blood all over his fingers. He shrugged. “I’ll do it myself.” 

“Are you sure that’s safe, dear?” 

“Being unsafe’s my calling,” Link replied, smiling. “Besides, I have a mirror.” 

Uma frowned. “I should tend to Seldon. Take care of yourself, Champion Link.” 

“I will.” 

With his task done, Link left the inn and began walking home. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel anything for the dying man. Link barely knew him— when he had first arrived he had shown Link around, and they had talked somewhat often after he had moved to Hateno. He seemed friendly, at least, and he talked about his daughter often, but he was painfully ordinary. Village life was simple and filled with uncomplicated people, and he was no exception. 

Link walked across the bridge just before his house and stopped, his one visible eye wide as he gazed up at his house. Perhaps he should have expected it, but he felt his stomach churn as he walked past the sign in front of his house— now broken and vandalized beyond recognition. The door, torn off its hinges, lay on top of a bed of carrots that had been partially uprooted. From where he was, he could see that his table had been flipped over and the vase on it smashed. There was a splatter of red paint he could see running down one of the walls. He unsheathed his sword as he stepped inside, unsure if the fiends had left his house or not. 

His footsteps echoed across the house as he examined the inside. All of the weapons and shields he had put on display were broken or gone. A red eye glared down at him from one wall— the blasphemous turned eye of the Yiga Clan. Link sucked in a breath, and frowned, barely holding in his temper. He marched over to the wall and placed his hand on the eye. The damp paint stuck to his hands, so he wiped his hand across the wall. The paint smeared but the marking stayed. It was half-dry already. 

My! What a disaster, Hylia quipped. Those pests won’t leave you alone! 

Link took his hand away, examining the paint that remained on his fingers. “I’ll have to clean it.” 

Pity. I was wondering if the whole ordeal would inspire you to go to Hyrule Castle. Were you sad about the man dying? 

Link’s head shot up. He didn’t say anything.

You shouldn’t be. It’s hard to feel anything for things so below oneself, though it does happen. I know, truly! But you seemed distraught. 

“No, I wasn’t.” He hadn’t thought about it much, really. It had been a tragedy to the village, for sure, and he knew he should at least pretend to care. Partially to distract himself Link decided to check the kitchen. His firewood had been scattered across the floor, as well as the contents of his cupboard of medicine. Thankfully most of the bottles and tiny pots were unharmed. He picked up two sealed ones he recognized: a bottle of alcohol with a sterile needle in it for suturing, and a numbing sap from a tree in the Faron region, then put them on a counter. 

Really?

“No. I lost my Sheikah Slate.” 

Come now, boy. I don’t blame you. You grew up among them, in this mortal body of yours! It’s difficult to not get sentimental. 

“They’re nothing like me,” Link replied. “I don’t get attached to them.” Really, he didn’t. Getting attached was a mistake. 

Say what you must to preserve your pride. 

Link grunted in displeasure, removed his scabbard and shield from his back, and leaned them against a wall. Then he grabbed a broom hanging by a hook, and walked back into the main room, sweeping up the remains of his vase. “How well do you think I dealt with those monsters?” 

You nearly were killed at the end of it. I thought I might have to intervene. 

“Before the traitor,” Link corrected. 

In comparison to what? Your first incarnation? The Hero of Time? 

Link swept the pieces of vase outside. “In comparison to me before the Calamity.” 

Stop asking about that. You were fine. Nothing in comparison to the greatest your predecessors achieved, but decent. 

“I’m sorry. I thought you liked talking about it.” Link dipped his head, brushing a few stray shards of vase away with the very tip of his broom. 

Are you mocking me? 

Link felt his muscles clamp up. Even his eyes couldn’t move, though he felt the faint pulse of a vein in his head pumping blood. The sound distracted him from his own panic for a moment, allowing his hands to slide down the broomstick and take a moment to breathe. “No.” 

I can tell when you’re lying, boy. You treacherous scum. You hate me, don’t you? 

He couldn’t keep in his panic now. The vein in his head thumped louder, but this time it made him feel worse. His ears began ringing, and a white light crept into his vision. Link shrank, his shoulders hunching in as he winced, clutching the broom like an old man with a cane. 

That’s why you don’t do as I ask. After all I’ve done— I made you a god! I saved your life and this is the thanks I get? 

 “No! No, I don’t hate you! I revere you! You’re my patron goddess! You’ve saved me countless times—I’m your humble servant! I’ve never hated you! It was just bad wording! I’m not very good with words. You know me very well, Your Grace, you know my tongue slips!” Link stammered, his voice cracking at the end of his panicked monologue. Flecks of blue filled his vision, and he squeezed his eyes shut, but the colors stayed. 

Slips of the tongue reveal intentions, hero. You’re right, though. There’s nothing you can hide from me. You’re far too easy to read. When did you begin to despise me? 

The white began to fade. She must have calmed down a little; maybe she could be reasoned with. Link stood up, keeping his back straight like an attentive soldier. “I never have despised you. How could I?”

I don’t believe you.  

Link felt sick. He couldn’t say no, but he couldn’t commit to a full answer. “Last week I resented you for, ah—“ After he stopped squeezing the broomstick handle so hard, he noticed his palms were sweaty. He had to think of a convincing lie now. “…telling me I needed to stop watching ducks. I have a good memory for perceived slights against me.” He stared back down at the ground as if he was speaking to it. “I’m sorry. I really am.” 

Fair enough. 

“Thank you.” Link let out a huff of relief. 

You’ve deeply upset me, and I don’t want to anger myself further, so I will leave you to clean. Think about what you’ve done.

  Just to make sure, Link waited several moments after Hylia’s last words before resuming his cleaning. There were a few more shattered pieces of pottery on the floor, so he cleared them away before putting on his slippers, which had miraculously survived the attack. Then he bent down and hoisted his table up— it was solid oak with a heavy base, and not easily knocked over or put back. After picking his tablecloth up off the floor he dusted his table lightly with it before spreading it across the table in a diamond shape. Then he headed into the kitchen. The intact bottles he inspected and put back inside his cabinet. It was difficult to tell what all of the broken ones were, so he decided to sweep up their remains and catalog his medicines later. In a few minutes, he stacked up the firewood scattered across the floor, and for good measure found a rag and cleaned up some ash inside of his furnace.

With the rag still in hand, Link stomped back into the living room and stared at his vandalized wall, as if that would remove the paint. It certainly wouldn’t come off with pure soap and water, and he wasn’t about to try. He needed paint for this ordeal— not that he had any. It would be best to focus on his face for now. Link brushed his long hair back, sweeping one long bang out of his face before tying it all back with the rag. 

Then he strolled upstairs to his bed. Thankfully it looked untouched, as well as his bedside table and a locked chest full of weapons he hadn’t stored in his sheikah slate. Tipped over on his bedside table was a small round mirror about the size of Link’s fist. He had found it several years ago in some ruins, and he had kept it ever since. Link grabbed it by its edges, and gently flipped it over, spreading his fingers out and letting it rest in his palm. His face was nothing to laugh at. A bloody nose from earlier had left a long trail across the bottom half of his face alongside the smeared blood from the actual wound. Speaking of which, the wound looked much deeper than he had anticipated. Not that this would prevent him from trying to suture it himself. He traced the path of the wound just above the broken skin, mentally preparing himself for it. His finger wobbled, then he stopped. It had almost reached his eyes. Though he saw them almost every day, for some reason they stood out to him now. They were mostly blue, though the bottom half of his irises glinted a warm golden color. He remembered someone complimenting them before. Who was it again? 

Oh. His memories were foggy, but this face stood out clearly, and he didn’t like it. He had to distract himself. What was there to think about? His pumpkins were growing larger, and the ducks outside hadn’t been fed. But– he knew why he was growing pumpkins. He had stolen the seeds. Even if– no, he needed to stop it. There was something important he needed to be thinking about, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He could think about the weather instead. It looked like it might rain earlier, but he wasn’t sure now. Why wasn’t he sure? The Yiga Clan had taken his slate, that was why. 

And why had they taken it? Of course, it was because they hated him. Why did they hate him? Of course, they always had. But–

The more he tried to stop thinking about it, the more it consumed him. Finally he decided he didn’t care. What was a little more pain he wasn’t supposed to feel anyhow? 

They had been sitting outside her grandmother’s house, kicking their feet in the water. Little orange and white carp flew away from their splashes, and lilypads trembled at their reign of terror. He didn’t remember what they had been talking about. They had talked too much about nothing anyways. Either way, through bits of laughter and scattered topics of conversation she had said his eyes were like deep pools of water in a moonlit cave. He responded by telling her her eyes looked like apples, and—already giddy from laughter— this had sent both of them into a fit. It was odd, looking back. He didn’t think his eyes looked anything like pools, and he didn’t understand why she would have either. Maybe—

Link blinked himself out of the daydream, then felt a twinge in his stomach. He brought the mirror to his face again. Blue and golden. Nothing like pools at all.

(A/N: Here's a sketch of Hylia :D )

Chapter Text

Link rolled out of bed some time before sunrise— “rolled” meaning the floor was the first thing to wish him good morning. Aching drowsiness racked his entire body, but he knew he couldn’t sleep any longer. He squirmed his way out of his cocoon of blankets, then dragged them back onto the bed, tucking in the edges he had pulled out before smoothing it over. Noting the strange sensation on one half of his face, he put his hand there and grimaced. He had bandaged the wound after he had finished suturing it. The stitches looked awful, and there was still a dull throb pulsing from the entire area. Instinctively he reached for his Sheikah Slate on his bedside table. Of course, there was nothing there. He rolled his eyes and went to get dressed. 

With his slate gone, Link’s clothing options were limited to what he had worn when it was stolen. Most of his choices were limited— a good amount of his food, all of his arrows, and most of his weapons were in the slate. Even worse— he couldn’t store anything that he couldn’t carry. At least he had the Champions’ abilities left, he thought. Not that he wanted to use them. He had decided long ago that he would only use the abilities in emergencies. Link pulled on his tunic from yesterday, avoiding the bandages on his face as it slipped over. The noxious odor of sweat and old blood filled his nose as he did. He supposed there was no use in cleaning it if he was probably going to get drenched in rain on his journey. 

Good day, hero! Is that how you say it? 

“Good morning, Your Grace—“ Link stopped himself from saying more. She might take that as him correcting her.

Oh, I see. Good morning, hero. You mortals’ fixation on tiny increments of time certainly is interesting. 

As Link felt the tension leave his body, he noticed that he had tightened his belt too much, and loosened it. Now the buckle was on a relatively unworn notch in his belt. “I think I’m getting fat,” he snorted. 

Most likely because of your own sloth. I assume you plan to retrieve your…thing today? 

“Yes, I do.” Link trotted downstairs and slid his front door open. He didn’t know how to fix the hinges. His storage cellar lay just to the right of his house, and after locating a small patch of raised grass he located the door and began pulling it up. 

Excellent. It has proved itself a valuable tool. I will keep careful watch while you find it! Those traitors have stuck their necks out much too far. 

Link grunted in reply. The cellar door proved very heavy. Without his magnesis rune, he was forced to rely on his own strength— and though he was strong, a solid metal door still tested it. Thankfully Link noticed a large rock near the cellar, and when he had opened the door about halfway he leaned to one side and stretched out one leg so he could kick it between the entrance and the door. It looked just large enough to let him slip in and out. He felt his arms giving while he moved the rock into place, but after a few moments of adjustments he thought it secure enough and let the door down. Sure enough, it held.  Link slipped into the cellar and took some wildberry preserves off a shelf and dried meat from a hook on the wall.

 He put his chosen items under his arm and squeezed back out. Even a little time in the cellar made it difficult to see in the sunlight. He muttered curses under his breath and kicked the rock keeping the cellar door open away, making it shut with such a loud bang he could feel his bones rattle. 

What are you planning to make? Hylia asked. 

Link looked down at the things he had collected. Admittedly he hadn’t been thinking too hard about what he wanted when he had taken meat and berry preserves out of the cellar. “Experimentation is the essence of good cooking,” he replied, strolling back over to his front door. Indeed, slices of dried meat with preserves didn’t turn out to be too terrible. The meat was very salty, and contrasted well with the almost overwhelming sweetness of the berry preserves.

 Unfortunately once breakfast was over he had the problem of packing to deal with. Travelers on Hyrule’s extensive roads often brought packs with them— sometimes better-off ones would ride a donkey or horse to carry more. Link didn’t have a pack, and his belt pouches certainly wouldn’t fit all he needed. He also didn’t want to ask anyone for one. Musing over it as he licked berry preserves off his fingers, he decided his best alternative was to bring all the tools he needed with him, and make do with what he found. There was plenty to eat along the road if he looked in the right places. 

In that case, he reckoned his best choice of tools would be an axe for firewood, his favorite guardian sword, a rito-made bow, and a wooden shield. The axe was the heaviest item by far— guardian weapons were unusually light, which took getting used to. He stuck two pieces of flint in a belt pouch, then topped it off with a roll of bandages before buttoning it shut. Then he took an antiseptic and his numbing concoction. He didn’t want to be unprepared for an infection on his face. His last pouch had his money in it, most of which he dumped into a spare drawer before filling the pouch with the remaining dried meat. One hundred and fifty rupees would easily cover his expenses for the trip. 

After sliding the door in front of the entrance to his house, he set off at a jog. Without resting—and he would need a rest—he estimated he could reach Dueling Peaks Stable in about eight hours. It couldn’t have been earlier than six in the morning, but despite this, all Link could hear along the road was the chatter of nearby birds. He ran past the defense turret with no trouble, though its head still turned to watch him leave. 

Traveling without the Sheikah Slate was frustrating. After two hours of straight jogging and stopping to dispatch stray bokoblins, the greenery blurred together. The path ahead was clear enough, but he still looked down at the ground to check if it was still underneath his feet. There wasn’t a single soul along the way, and for good reason. There had been rumors of guardians breaching Hateno Fortress and attacking people along the roads. He hadn’t seen any yet, which was a relief, but he expected them. 

Hylia had decided to be kind to him today, at least for the most part. It surprised him how quickly she had gotten over his words from yesterday, but he wasn’t about to question it. That would just land him in hot water again. She spent most of her time babbling about various things nearby– usually wild animals that had wandered closer to Link. 

What are those pink birds? I keep seeing them. Quite lovely, don’t you think?

“I don’t remember,” Link admitted, squinting at a pair of them as they flew away. If he had his slate, he could just hold it up and figure out what they were. Gods, this was so inconvenient. He barely knew where he was going, he wasn’t sure what the weather was going to be like or what time it was, the weapons strapped to his back were rattling against each other. Inside his pouches, he could hear the two jars and pieces of flint clacking, as well as the jingle of his three purple rupees. His jog had a distinct rhythm to it that he began to hear. One, two, one, two, rattle clink clack, one, two, rattle clink clack, one, two . He almost liked it, but only because he was bored. 

At around midday, Link sat on a stump, nearly collapsing in on himself as he panted. Running was harder work than he remembered. Then he heard the gentle whirr of propellers. Link stood up, scanning the area for the source of the sound. Just beyond a small cliff, a guardian skywatcher roved the area, scanning it for any signs of life. He scrambled to his feet, staring at it as it flew closer, then turned away, having found something else that caught its attention, apparently. So there were guardians here. Despite his exhaustion, he decided to keep moving. With this equipment he was woefully underprepared for a fight with a skywatcher. 

After reaching Hateno Fortress, though, he knew it was only going to get worse. With a sigh, he stopped running and stood in the road, concentrating on something deep inside him. He felt a small tremble as he activated Mipha’s Grace for the first time in two years. It wouldn't heal any wound given to him– she was only a ghost, after all– but it would save him from any fatal injuries. The air around him felt strangely humid, and small flickers of blue light filled his vision, but he squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed them a little, and they went away. It would be fine; it was just a trick his mind was playing on him. 

Link slowed down significantly as he came closer to the fortress. He was able to find a small stream near the side of the road, thankfully, and picked up a few mushrooms and tubers along the way, but it was easily past noon when he came to the giant wall that had defended Hateno Village for over a century. There was a cooking pot that he quickly made use of, and as he waited for his meal he gathered up sticks and leaves to make a small fire near a beehive. The smoke from the little fire was enough to pacify most of the bees: he came back to the pot triumphantly with a few stings and several fistfuls worth of sweet, golden honey. Bird song and bugs buzzing in the grass filled his ears as he watched the cooking pot, occasionally moving mushrooms around the pan with a stick so they could cook evenly. 

He wasn’t looking forward to the rest of the trip. The location was a good distance away from the road, but it was close enough to bother him. It wasn’t because of the memory he has acquired there, either. Though its truth frightened him at points, and the glaring light of the vessel’s face so close to his own burned his eyes, it was hazy— like a nightmare. Link assumed this was because he was dying in it. The others felt much more real. 

After remembering it he had hobbled over to someone and bawled like a toddler on her shoulder. It was embarrassing in retrospect; he was a whiny idiot two years ago. Link stabbed his stick into a mushroom and blew on it to cool it down. A careless idiot, too. He had injured his knee so badly he couldn’t walk properly then. He couldn’t fight the Calamity like that, so Lady Impa had begun looking for another person to wield the Master Sword. Yet again he had proved himself completely useless. 

This is quite the pleasant little nook, don’t you think, hero? 

Link popped a mushroom in his mouth and nodded. “It’s—“

Hush, child, don’t speak with your mouth full. You could almost call this a holy place! So many prayers emanated from here one hundred years ago. It makes the place so serene…

Link swallowed. “There’s going to be plenty of guardians past the fortress.” 

I can sense more than guardians there. Your bokoblin friends still seem to be roving the place! They’ve found some new companions, too. 

“Don’t remind me.” He smiled, dipping his head a little in embarrassment.

I’m sure you’ve had time to think about how to get across the plain. You’re always so quiet— always thinking, right? 

“Yes, I like to think.” Link ate another mushroom. “Do you?” 

I don’t think as often as you do, but you have less to work with, really. She laughed. 

Link chuckled in response. “That’s true.” 

She babbled to him until he finished eating, commenting on the birds, the weather, the trees. Her voice was nice to listen to— it was warm and clear like a bell. Things didn’t feel so bad when she wasn’t angry at him. When he finished the last of his honey candy, Hylia vanished. Link wondered if she had gone to eat lunch as well, somewhere far away in the realm of the gods. 

Link used those thoughts to distract himself as he ran through the entrance of the fortress and into the plain. A blue flame flickered in the corner of his eye, but he furrowed his brows and focused on the road ahead. Two guardians a ways off in the distance patrolled it, and even further away he saw another skywatcher flying over the road. There was no sign of the bokoblins Hylia had mentioned. He swallowed his fear and continued, keeping a watchful eye in every direction, his face stern and concentrated. Just two more hours, and he would reach the Dueling Peaks. 

The first hour or so went smoothly. Once he slipped past the first few guardians he found some spots where nothing was lurking in the plain except a few chuchus. Now there was a single guardian ahead of him. Link slowed to a stop, glaring at the ancient machine. It hadn’t noticed him, but it seemed very content to crawl down the road. With the guardian uncomfortably close, Link looked around for places to hide. A few broken-down guardians looked like they would provide sufficient cover, so he dashed towards one, skidding to a halt as he scrambled behind the thing. In case it did spot him, he took his shield out. Sure enough, it began to pass through, whirring as it scanned the area but finding nothing. 

He heard a rumble, then a significantly quieter but no less jarring click behind him. Link stepped back to look at the destroyed guardian behind him. Malice bubbled around it, oozing through the bottom and stretching out into large streams. A red light flickered on his chest. The streams of malice solidified, and slowly the guardian began to rise on its new legs. 

Then it fired. Link’s reflexes came into play, and he brought up his shield just in time. The blast ripped into the shield, and he felt the searing heat of the laser pulse onto the back of his arm. It wasn’t hurt, but he knew that his shield was useless now. He tossed it to the side and started running further into the field. The red light reappeared, this time aiming for his head. Dashing forward at full speed, he found another broken guardian to hide behind right before the reanimated one fired again. It crawled forward on its legs made of malice, leaving a trail of it as it went. Despite being occluded by one of its dead brethren it seemed to know where Link was. It fired at the corpse, making it shudder as Link hid behind it. 

If it was going to keep chasing him, he knew he had to do something. He took out his bow, nocked an arrow, and poked out from behind his cover. Its eye immediately flicked towards him, but he had anticipated this. An arrow flew into its eye and bounced off its hard, clear lens. It was sufficiently stunned by it that it stopped targeting Link, so he dashed towards it. He knew he didn't have much time, and with his limited stock of arrows he had to find a way to kill it without resorting to that again. With that in mind, Link slashed at the guardian’s legs. In one clean swipe, two malice legs destabilized. The guardian wobbled and leaned to one side, rattling in desperation. Link moved to the other side of the guardian. He prepared to swing at more of its legs before he heard an ugly squelching sound. The malice was reforming. 

Before Link could move in on the guardian, its red light flashed onto him again. Link ran back to his cover, hissing profanities as it began drawing closer. He couldn't immobilize it, and it wouldn't let him hide. There was no way he could take it head-on– not with his current arsenal and no clue how to defeat it. His only option was to run. Sticking his head out from behind his cover, he tried to find an escape route that led him back to the road. The other guardian had wandered away, but there wasn't any place to hide close to the road that he could see– at least not in the few seconds he had before it fired at him again. He stepped back behind his cover just before the laser shot at where his head had been moments ago. Glancing ahead, he saw a multitude of large rocks and guardian corpses he could hide behind, if they didn't start walking like the first one did. 

As the guardian finally crawled around his cover, he dashed towards the nearest rock. It fired at him before he could anticipate it, and missed his head getting blasted off by a handbreadth. He could almost smell the intense heat of the laser in the air. With his heart in his throat he made it behind a nearby rock. Link could feel his hands shaking as he took a moment to locate the guardian. It was further away now, and the further it was the less accurate it would be. Even with that reassurance his legs felt like putty. He had fought guardians before! Gritting his teeth together, he ran again towards cover. Link looked back, and saw the white-hot laser flying straight towards him. He rolled out of the way, then clambered behind another guardian corpse. It wasn't getting less accurate. 

Then Link saw a thick stretch of trees ahead of him. Even if it followed him until he made it to the forest it was too large to be able to slip through the foliage. He looked back at the guardian. It was leaving a thick trail of malice behind it, like some kind of evil snail– and, keeping in theme with the snail, it was moving more slowly than most guardians. If he kept going, he could make it. Link took a deep breath to prepare for his escape. He could hear the guardian crawling towards him, the malice around it squelching and gurgling as it drew closer and closer. 

He set his eyes on the forest, then took off. It fired at him, of course, but he was aware of its tricks, and managed to keep a closer eye on it so he could dodge at appropriate times. Link wove between rocks, ducking for cover every chance he could before darting to the next one just before a laser blast could hit his hiding place. Then he took one last mad dash towards the trees. Another blast came hurtling towards him, but he dodged this one with ease before slipping into the forest.

As soon as he made it, Link slammed his body into the trunk of a large tree. He glanced back into the field. The guardian chasing him had left a long trail of malice behind it, so it was easy to locate even though it had deactivated and was hiding among the dead guardians. Assuming there weren't any more enemies, he stepped forwards. A net snapped up around him, and he shot up into the air. For a moment, he lay inside, stunned. Then he saw two beady blue eyes peeking out from inside a bush.

Immediately Link cursed and began struggling against the net, but his time was already running out. A blue bokoblin leapt out of the bushes, wielding a simple wooden club. Several others crept up from behind trees, crying out in their strange language as they ran towards their prisoner. Link's heart leapt into his throat. They were normal bokoblins, of course– he had been caught in bokoblin traps before, too– but something about this little group terrified him. Twisting himself around in the net, he held his knees as close to his chest as he could. He could smell the humidity in the air, and this only made him panic more. Where was his sword? He wriggled his arm closer to his back, but the net prevented him from going much further. 

When the blue bokoblin raised its club, he shut his eyes and squeezed his legs even closer to his body. It hit him squarely in the side with a hard blow. Not so bad, though he knew it would leave a bruise. He leaned forward a bit to give his arm more room and began working it towards his back. Then another, heavier blow came from the other side, and another– and another! Eventually he stopped being able to distinguish between them. His right arm was slick with blood, and something felt out of socket.  A heavy and spiked thing slammed into the side of his head so hard he felt his brain rattle inside his skull, but he stayed focused. Finally, he grabbed it. In one swoop he cut himself out of the net and fell unceremoniously onto his haunches. The bokoblins squealed in surprise. 

Now that Link was free, he could fight back against these monsters. He strained himself to get up, but as soon as he got to his feet he felt his head pitch forward. Another blow from a bokoblin sent him sprawling back onto the ground face-first.  Despite his fading consciousness a rage filled him. They were trying to maim him again. 

Link heard a stifled grunt, then felt a heavy body collapse onto his with a thud. He began to squirm out from under it, then stopped– he didn't know what had happened. Straining his neck he saw that one of the bokoblins had fallen on him, an arrow piercing its abdomen. The rest of the bokoblins began to panic, abandoning their almost motionless prey in favor of finding whatever it was that was attacking them. They didn't get far before Link heard another bokoblin bite the dust. There was a yelp from one, and then another thud. He heard others begin calling to each other, and the sound of heavy feet fading away. 

“Link?” A voice shouted. There were more footsteps, this time coming towards him. 

Link began to squirm underneath the bokoblin, trying to free himself. Everything spun around him as he moved. The pressure on his body suddenly left, and he realized someone was standing right above him, holding out their hand. He pushed himself up off the ground, watching the hand split into two. “Are you trying to kill me?” He asked. 

“No, I– oh goddess.” Two hands– hands from earlier?-- gripped onto his shoulders to keep him from toppling over. “You're bleeding everywhere.” 

“Who are you?” Link looked up. He could vaguely see the face of a red-haired Gerudo woman with green eyes looking at him. She seemed fairly concerned. 

“It's Rhondson! You helped me find my husband, remember?” 

“Ah, Rhondson?” It seemed familiar. Link decided that she could be trusted, and slowly moved to put his sword away. It hurt to move that arm–well, everything hurt. He was seriously considering drinking the painkiller he had in one of his pouches even though he knew it was only a topical medicine. “You caught me at a bad time. I’m not much use to you now. Let me–” He began lifting himself off the ground, but his head pulled him forward again. The only thing that stopped him from falling over was Rhondson’s grip on his shoulders.

“I think you’ve misunderstood. I want to help you.” Rhondson insisted. 

“No need,” Link said, feeling more lightheaded by the minute. Why couldn't he stand? Was something wrong with his legs? 

“Dueling Peaks Stable is nearby. The bokoblins could be back soon, too. Please, I can carry you.” 

Link pushed away, stumbling back from Rhondson and managing to keep on his feet for just a moment before stumbling over a dead bokoblin and falling flat on his back again. He couldn't walk. What was wrong with him? 

“Link. You will die if you don't get out soon. You're an experienced traveler, yes?” 

“I can't-I can't walk.” Link squeezed his eyes shut. Tears began to roll down his cheeks, and he let out a very soft whine. “What if she can't fix me again? ‘M better off dead.” 

Rhondson sighed. “You're delirious. Come on, up into my arms.” 

Link felt something scoop him up like a little child, then hoist him away. He decided he was alright with this, and let himself slump a little into Rhondson’s arms, head nestled into her shoulder. She snorted at him, but didn't complain. 

As Rhondson walked along, the only thing going through Link's mind was how Mipha had abandoned him. He remembered her ghost above his body as monsters dragged him away. People later said his leg was mangled beyond recognition, bones shattered into a pulp. It wouldn't have been able to heal properly, they said– but Mipha could have tried. She should have tried. He moved his head over so he could watch the sky. Now he was useless and abandoned, backstabbed by his fellow champions and everyone else. It truly was a mercy that Hylia tolerated him. 

It didn't take long for the two travelers to reach Dueling Peaks Stable. After what Link guessed was around fifteen minutes Rhondson looked down at him and started running for some reason. He could only just tell. Things were getting blurrier and blurrier. Eventually he felt his body being thrown onto a bed and people’s chatter around him. The world felt strangely damp. It was already hard to breathe, but the smothering humidity made it even worse as he gasped for air. His vision was fading, and despite his attempts to ignore it, pain wracked his body. He couldn't help himself now. Giving into the blackness swallowing his consciousness he passed out. 

Then Link woke to a strange sensation. A soft, cold hand laid on his cheek, sliding over it gently. He opened his eyes and saw Mipha–what was left of her–inches away from him. Her misty face was dead-eyed, though she had a slight smile as she worked to heal the wounds on his head. So she did come. It didn't bring him much comfort, really. He stared at her, watching her work with no more emotion or gratitude than a stone. 

Whatever Mipha had done helped him see more clearly now. There were multiple people surrounding him– mostly stablehands and a few travelers, he assumed. One of them was wrapping a bandage around his now-uncovered right arm, which was mottled with vivid shades of black and violet now. He wiggled his pinkie finger, making the stablehand jump and stare at him in alarm. Several other onlookers also snapped to attention. 

“Mr. Link!” A younger onlooker blurted out, his pooched-out lip trembling a bit at the sight of the champion. 

Link sat up. Mipha’s Grace had healed everything particularly egregious, but he could still see bruises and scabs on his arms from where the bokoblins had nearly beaten him to death. She was only a ghost. She had seemed like such a wonderful person, an esteemed warrior, healer, and future leader, but what did he know? Snippets, and it was just enough to make him care until she failed him. He had wanted to love her back like she did, but things weren’t the same anymore. The people around him were chattering, amazed by his sudden recovery, while Link carefully slid off the bed and stood up. He wobbled for a moment, then took one step, then another– and another, until he realized that his legs hadn't been hurt at all. He had been delirious and unable to keep his balance. 

“Link?” A familiar voice called. He snapped to attention, and saw Rhondson standing close by. The full magnitude of his blubbering and whining earlier hit him at full force as he went over the events of the past hour in his mind. His mouth dropped open, then shut as he saw the inkling of a smirk on Rhondson's face. 

“I'm happy you're alright.” Rhondson said. "For a little bit I wasn't sure if you'd make it." There was no malice in her voice, but Link scowled nonetheless. 

“Of course I'm alright.” 

(A/N 2025: here's a drawing of Mipha!)

Chapter Text

Link kicked his legs and swam out of the water, digging his fingers into a rock as he clambered up it like a wet rat. He sat down on it with a huff, and started washing himself with a bit of soap he had asked one of the stablehands for. It probably wasn't meant for cleaning anything but clothes, but soap was soap. There was a lot of grime and blood on him– he hadn't bathed in a while. Today he had a special reason. If he was going to be traveling with Rhondson he wanted to make sure he didn't smell like a dead animal. 

A chill wind bit into his skin, and he swam with some effort back to shore. His clothes were lying on a rock in the sun next to his gear. He rushed to put everything on before his teeth started chattering–they were mostly dry already. His sword hand hurt to move, so he applied heavy amounts of the numbing salve before wrapping it up in a stiff bandage. After that, he began to stroll back over towards the stable. 

About halfway there his vision began to go white, and he felt icy claws grab onto his brain. He stopped immediately.

“Good morning, Your Grace.” She was so kind yesterday. “Is something amiss?” 

You know what you did.

Link glanced to one side without moving his head. He didn't know what she was talking about, but he could guess. “I'm sorry, I was too close with–”

No. 

Feeling a twinge in the pit of his stomach, Link said no more, and began walking again. 

When he reached the stable, he slapped a purple rupee onto the stable’s counter. The stable manager–Tasseren, he believed–furrowed his bushy brows at Link. 

“Are you staying another night? Or do you have a horse,” Tasseren asked, looking down at the money. 

“No, I’m paying for last night,” Link said. 

“Last night? That was paid for. I was going to let you stay for free, but your, uh–” 

“Is she here?” Link blurted out. 

“She left ten minutes ago. If you run, you should be able to catch up to her.” 

Link grabbed the rupee and took off. He could catch up to her at a jog, probably, but he wanted to hurry. The path rushed past him as frantic worries ran into his head. Rhondson wasn't a threat; she was happily married. Or–

It was blurry, but he remembered how idiotic he had sounded when he had met Rhondson earlier. He had been nearly beaten to death by common, weak enemies because he had lost his head. That must have been it. 

“Your Grace?” He half-yelled, as if that would do any good. “Are you there?” 

No response. She must have left. Link returned his focus to the road only to see Rhondson in the distance looking at him. He blanched. 

“I'm flattered, but I have no idea what you're talking about!” Rhondson yelled back. 

Link hung his head as he slowed down to a trot, finally catching up to Rhondson. “I'm sorry.” 

“For what?”

The champion stood up straight and rolled his shoulders back, looking Rhondson in the eyes as he walked next to her. “For confusing you, and for the trouble I’ve caused you.” He took out a purple rupee from his pouch, and held out his hand with the money. “I would like to protect you for the duration of your journey, as I am going towards Gerudo Town as well. Please let me accompany you.” 

Rhondson looked down at the money, then back at Link. “I wouldn't mind the company, but there's no need to pay me. Keep it.” She closed her hand around his for a moment, holding it shut before giving it a firm shake. “Come, let's walk together.”

Link looked down at his fist for a few seconds, then deposited the money into his back pouch. He began to walk alongside Rhondson. Keeping up with her wasn't too hard if he concentrated on her pace–looking between her and the ground seemed to help. 

It didn't take Rhondson long to realize Link wouldn't start a conversation. “How have you been?” 

“Good,” Link blurted out. “Thank you for asking. How are you?” 

“Good, more or less,” Rhondson replied, making a see-saw gesture with one hand. “—So, what have you been doing? I see you grew your hair out. It looks nice.”

Link's hair was a shaggy mess that fell to his shoulderblades. The soap he had used had removed a lot of the oil in it, making it look even worse than usual. He stared at her in disbelief. 

Rhondson sighed. “I forgot how much you have in common with Hudson. Let me try and ask a more specific question. Why are you traveling out towards Gerudo Town?” 

“The Yiga Clan stole something from me.” 

Rhondson frowned, apparently trying to decipher what this all meant. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, putting one hand on her hip. “...how?”

“There was an attack on Hateno Village. No casualties except one.”

“They made it as far as Hateno…” Rhondson trailed off, gazing into the distance. “It's been bad in Gerudo Town as well. They're openly stealing, and there's been talk of shutting the morning market down, according to my mother.”

“Casualties?” 

“I don't think they’ve tried to kill anyone recently,” Rhondson replied. “Everyone’s worried about it, though.” 

“Good,” Link grunted. Rhondson only nodded in response and the two walked silently along the road, though it felt less jarring now. About an hour passed as they made it through the Dueling Peaks and into the fields beyond. She tried to strike up a conversation a few more times, but he never responded with more than a few words. Having a companion walking beside him wasn't so bad. It was rather like a horse, he thought, but it was a person, and people weren't horses and didn't act like horses. Either way, he appreciated the company. 

Rhondson and Link didn't see any trouble until they had traveled a ways out into the fields. It didn't take much for Link to hear the gentle grunts of a bokoblin camp minding their own business. Link stopped in his tracks, straining his ears for any more information. The area was lightly wooded, filled with boulders and little hills to hide behind, so it would be easy to pick off a small camp if they were too close to the road. 

She didn't notice the noises immediately, so she was surprised when Link began treading softly over to where he thought he heard the monsters. “Link—” 

Link whipped around. “Shht!” he hissed as he gave her a glare. If she was any good at surviving on the roads why didn't she understand that his caution was natural? Rhondson immediately stepped back and went quiet after he notified her, but it still annoyed him. The wind was blowing into his face, carrying the familiar scent of meat cooking over a spit and the sweaty, rotten scent of bokoblins. Confident in his ability to get closer to the camp without being spotted, Link slunk closer to the noises, heading to a small outcropping jutting out of the earth. There were conspicuously placed piles of leaves everywhere—traps, he was certain, which he carefully stepped over. His well-worn leather boots made little noise as he situated himself behind the outcropping and caught a glimpse of the camp he suspected was nearby. One, two, three—around five bokoblins in total, all blissfully unaware of his presence. Two of them were slowly turning a spit with a large roast boar on it, while the others watched, chattering in their language. He narrowed his eyes at the closest one to him and took out his bow, nocking it quietly with an arrow before aiming at the creature’s exposed back. 

Then something threw a rock. It hit the side of one of the bokoblins turning the spit, making it yelp and whip its head around in the direction the rock came from. The other four monsters came to attention, sniffing the air for any intruders. 

“Help!” An unfamiliar voice shouted, and before Link could respond he saw a young Hylian girl make a mad dash out of a thicket. She had black hair and a large, heavy coat on—no one Link recognized for sure—and, strangely enough, she was heading directly for the road. The bokoblins growled and chattered amongst themselves before picking up their weapons and running after her. They didn't have to go far. The girl stepped into one of the leaf piles and as expected her foot got caught in a snare. A rope snapped, and she was yanked away, struggling to get loose as she dangled in the air. 

Without a second thought Link let an arrow fly at the bokoblin closest to the girl. It stumbled as the arrow hit it in the head, then collapsed and fell still. The other bokoblins glanced at their companion, and followed the direction the arrow had come from to Link's hiding place. Then they all rushed towards the bush, preparing their swords and clubs to strike. 

Thankfully Link was prepared. He unsheathed his sword in the blink of an eye and tore through the nearest bokoblin. As he lunged towards another, he heard one of them scream and fall to the ground. Stabbing his new victim in the heart and yanking his sword out he saw the body of a bokoblin with an arrow in the chest. He looked towards the road. Rhondson was standing nearby, aiming her bow at the final monster. Gods, didn't she know he didn't need help?

The last monster had a club. When Link turned to the thing his chest twinged—then he stepped forward to meet it with a snarl. He let it wind up and swing. The bone club hurtled towards him, but he sidestepped like a dancer, twirling a little on his heel as he gripped his sword with both hands and brought it down on the monster’s shoulder. It sliced straight through its arm. For good measure Link kicked it down before stabbing it in the gut. It screamed, so Link stabbed it again. The monster's other hand clawed into his face, but this only made him angrier. Blood rushed to his head, coloring his vision, pulsing against his skull. He plunged his sword into it two more times until it fell limp, and his body shuddered with catharsis. 

Link felt something gripping his shoulder and snapped to attention. Rhondson. Her eyebrows were bunched together in concern, her mouth twisted into a grimace. Link's heart retreated from the top of his head to his gut, but he felt his face get even warmer. He glanced down at the monster carcass he had been stabbing at in a deranged fervor just a moment ago, then held up his hands. There was sticky purple monster blood all over them and the handle of his sword. He fruitlessly tried to wipe the blood on the side of his tunic, and started stammering an apology. “I'm sorry, I got carried away, you didn't need to step in. That must have looked very bad. I usually go for a clean kill. I won't do it again.” 

“Are you okay?” Rhondson asked. “You were shaking.” 

“Yes, I’m fine,” Link replied, finally wiping the blood off. “I'm very sorry.” 

“Little help here?” The girl shouted, still hanging by her ankle. She was reaching down for something on the ground, desperately clawing at the air to try and grab it. 

“Coming!” Rhondson rushed over to help the girl, taking out a small hunting knife from a sheath on her belt before beginning to cut away the rope. 

Link decided to beat her to it. Stepping forward he sliced at the rope with his sword, cutting it cleanly in half. The girl fell onto the ground with a loud thud. 

Rhondson stepped away in alarm, and bent down to help the girl. She was no more than a little dazed, and accepted Rhondson’s hand. 

“You're safe now,” Link said, staring at Rhondson and the girl. “What are you doing out here alone?” 

“Hold on a moment, Link! Don't interrogate her.” Rhondson helped pull up the girl, who winced as she tried to put weight on her ankle. “Nothing feels sprained or broken?” 

The girl shook her head. “Just sore. I have tough ankles.” Wobbling slightly she stood up straight, then patted her knee. “All good.”

“You look too young to be traveling on your own,” Rhondson said.

“Oh! Um, I wasn't, I—need to get back to them, that's all! My aunt, I mean. We were traveling together and we got separated by monsters.” 

“Why were you hiding off the side of the road?” Link asked. 

The girl whipped around to face him, scrunching her neck into her oversized jacket and glancing him up and down. “Hi! They—there was—they had food. I was going to try and steal it!” 

“Then why did you provoke them.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“You threw that rock, didn't you?”

“No! I just ran here and got caught by that stupid trap!”

“Link, leave her alone. She's clearly shaken from being by herself and almost getting killed,” Rhondson said, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder. “What is your name? We're going towards Gerudo Town, so we could accompany you if you're heading that direction.” 

“I'm a tr—Travy.” She hesitated, glancing between Link and Rhondson as if she was looking for approval. Apparently she was happy with their responses, as she decided to continue. “Yeah! Rhymes with gravy. I'm heading towards Gerudo Town—my aunt is Gerudo, actually.” 

“I'm Rhondson.” The Gerudo woman began to walk towards the path, beckoning for Travy to follow her. “What's your aunt's name? Maybe I know her.” 

“Vinna. Um, she's not…popular.” 

“That name doesn't seem familiar, no.”

“It’s fine. I just…wanted to see Gerudo Town with her.”

“So you haven’t been?” Rhondson said, inclining her head towards Travy. “It’s too bad you already have a tour guide. I would love to show you around.” 

“You…could, maybe?” Travy suggested. “My aunt is there on business. Her and her husband need a little extra money.” 

“Oh! In that case I guess I could show you some of my favorite places. Gerudo Town is the most lively place in all of Hyrule! There are festivals, an open-air market on cool mornings, shops, sand seal rides, dozens of little coffee shops and bars—it's one of the few towns that wasn't affected by the Great Calamity.”

Rhondson and Travy, still chatting with one another, found their way to the road. Link followed behind. One the scabs on his hand had reopened, so he took off his glove to look at it, sulkily glaring at Travy. Didn't Rhondson see that something was wrong? 

Have you figured it out yet? Hylia said. 

Link slowed down, letting Rhondson and Travy walk ahead. He nodded. “I apologize for my attitude yesterday,” he said quietly. Before he said more, he looked at his fellow travelers. They didn't look like they could hear him, so he continued. “As well as my ignorance.”

I forgive you. Who are those two ahead of you? Are you traveling with them? Why?

“I am traveling with them, yes. I rescued the girl. We are headed to the Gerudo Desert.” 

Funny. I thought you usually let travelers go their way.

“It was not completely my decision, Your Grace.”

Why don't you leave?

“I wanted to repay the Gerudo for saving me by protecting her,” Link replied. “We are going in a similar direction. No time will be lost.” 

I assume you won't try anything with her. The Gerudo are well-known for desiring strong men.

Link almost laughed, but it came out more like a cough. 

What? 

“No, she's married.”

“Link, come up here!” Rhondson shouted, looking back at Link. “I was going to ask you something.” 

She had better not! Link could feel Hylia clinging to him, disorienting him and making it difficult to see. He grimaced and stumbled forward anyway. 

“I forgot to ask you earlier,” Rhondson began, “I was thinking—since you're going to Gerudo Town, I was wondering if you’d like to stop by for my sister's a’vaama ?” 

I see. She's setting you up with her sister!

“No ,” Link grumbled, more at Hylia than Rhondson, but it served both conversations.

Rhondson frowned at Link’s tone, but shrugged and turned away towards the road again. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“What's an a’vaama ?” Travy asked.

Link leaned forward, still curious about what it was even if he knew he couldn't go. 

“It's a party,” Rhondson replied. “When a Gerudo woman reaches adulthood—eighteen—she goes through a variety of trials. When she is finished with those trials her family throws a small party in her honor. There is plenty of food. I'm looking forward to my mother's special a’vaama cakes.” Rhondson chuckled to herself. 

“Eighteen is awfully old to be considered an adult,” Travy muttered. Before Rhondson could reply, she did a sort of alarmed hop before clearing her throat. “Uh—but that sounds wonderful. I’ve never heard of a party like that. Um, what else do you do? Besides eat.” 

“We play games, race sand seals, talk until midnight…” Rhondson sighed. “I haven't seen my sister in years. I hope she doesn't have too much trouble with her trials.” 

“Why would she? She's probably had forever to practice,” Travy said. 

“Not really. She was never really…that familiar with Gerudo culture. My mother and father separated when she was very young, and she mostly stayed with him. I did hear that she's a talented stonemason, and that will help in the trials. To be completely honest, I'm surprised she's even trying to do them at all.” 

“I think you should have more faith in her,” Travy said. “If she really came to Gerudo Town just to do the trials, she must be really confident.” 

Rhondson made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Mother had to nag her into it. She originally came just to visit.” 

“You should have faith in her anyway!” Travy insisted. “That's what sisters do.” 

Out of curiosity, do you find Gerudo women attractive? Hylia butted in. You seem fascinated.

Link immediately backed away, going slightly pink in the face as he tried to get out of earshot of Rhondson and Travy again. “Somewhat?” He stammered quietly. “Not as beautiful as the vessel.” 

Hylia hummed to herself, skeptical. I don't think you'll be completely enamored with her until you meet in person, despite half the country knowing of her great beauty. It's understandable that you might be distracted by other women. 

Link went even redder at that. “I am not distracted by other women.” 

How can you say that with an expression like yours? You look like a lovestruck fool. 

Link knew by this point any insistence that he wasn't attracted to Rhondson would only convince Hylia of it more. He scratched his head and began to think of how to word his response without digging himself into a deeper hole. “I think…I can control myself around her. She is married, Your Grace. It would be wrong.” 

I don't think it's wise to expose yourself to constant temptation. 

Link frowned. “I will stay a distance away. I do not want to abandon her suddenly after I said I would accompany her.” 

Hylia seemingly pondered this. Fair enough.

It was easier this way. As they walked along, Link realized that even if he had wanted to talk, vapid chatting was never his strongest suit. They wouldn't want him near them anyway. Instead, he occupied himself with something more suited to him—watching the landscape for any hazards ahead. 

For a while, he saw nothing. As they came closer to Central Hyrule, he saw monsters off in the fields, too far away from the road to be concerned with. The plains were speckled with malice, like ulcers coming out of the aching world as it longed to be healed. He shuddered as a wave of guilt swept through him. The Divine Beasts were locked on Hyrule Castle, but they were waiting for him. What was he waiting for? 

A gentle whirr made his ears prick. Another Skywatcher? He glanced around, trying to locate it, when he saw it rapidly approaching Rhondson and Travy from the front. 

“Guardian!” Link yelled, running towards them. It was too late for a warning; the Guardian Skywatcher had already targeted Travy. Instead of running, she stood there in alarm, looking down at the pointer on her chest in surprise. Useless girl. Rhondson took out her bow and fired at the Skywatcher’s eye, stunning it long enough for her to pull Travy away and start running. 

Once it had recovered, the Skywatcher immediately went after Rhondson and Travy. Rhondson shot an arrow at it again. She missed, and the Skywatcher continued to target her. The pointer on her back became smaller and smaller, and its white-hot laser was nearly charged. 

Then a shrill whistle rang out, and a rock hit the Skywatcher in the side. It turned, looking for its attacker, and saw Link running into a nearby clump of trees. He knew that if he was able to find cover under them, the Skywatcher would have three options: try to locate and fire at him from above the treetops, fly inside the trees and risk getting its propellers jammed, or leave, and possibly go after Rhondson and Travy again. If he made a nuisance of himself he thought he could avoid the third option. 

It fired at him almost immediately, but he ducked, narrowly missing the burning laser. As soon as he made it to the trees he hid behind one for a moment, checking the area for traps or monsters, just in case. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He poked his head out from behind the tree and the Skywatcher immediately targeted him. It was close. Feeling a little cocky, he picked up a rock and threw it at the Skywatcher’s side before dashing further into the underbrush. 

The Skywatcher was a little more timid than Link anticipated, and flew over the patch of trees. He could see its eye through the thick cover of leaves, searching for him. Link remained still. It fired at a stray bush, burning half of it while the rest smoldered. After it started moving away from the trees, Link threw another rock at it, and the thing doggedly began searching for him again. Link crept away from his current hiding spot as he heard the Skywatcher’s laser begin to charge. It fired at where he had been hidden. 

“Hey, idiot!” Link shouted. “You missed me!” 

Though he knew it didn't understand him, the shout seemed to make the Skywatcher change its mind, and it slowly began lowering itself under the canopy of trees. Once its eye was below the top layer of leaves, it immediately targeted Link. He tensed, ready to move when it started charging, when he heard a loud crack . One of the Skywatcher’s propellers had gotten jammed by a branch, making the thing sag and head even closer to him. There was another crack as leaves clogged another one of the propellers. The machine could no longer support its own weight, and with an angry whirr it fell to the ground. 

For good measure, Link dismantled as much of the Skywatcher as he could in a short amount of time. It flickered angrily as he tore into it, pulling a good-looking screw out of its body and shaking any leftover Malice off. Its parts were in good condition, but with nothing for him to hold them in, he suspected they would be little more than deadweight. The thing shuddered and deactivated. It would have to wait for the next blood moon to be revived. Dropping the screw, he gave it a little kick before walking away to look for Rhondson. 

(A/N 2025: Here's one of my first sketches of Travy!) 

Chapter Text

Rhondson and Travy weren't far off. When Link trotted out of the forest, he heard Rhondson shout for him, and his two fellow travelers came into view. Rhondson was still puffing from running for her life in heels, but Travy seemed oddly energetic, skipping alongside the Gerudo woman with her hands buried deep in her pockets. She glanced at Link, tilting her head to one side by a millimeter, like she was a crow looking at a shiny rupee. 

“You're alive!” Rhondson wheezed, putting her bow away. “When you distracted the Guardian, I—”

“I’m fine,” Link said. “I have killed Skywatchers.” 

“Skywatchers…? I thought they were Gua—”

“Guardian Skywatchers.”

“Oh.” Rhondson smiled, huffing a little apology for getting it wrong.

“I’ve never seen one before,” Travy said, rolling back on her heels. “It was pretty interesting!”

Link and Rhondson both stared at her. 

“We did almost die,” Travy admitted. The two adults backed off, but Link gave her another glare before Rhondson struck up the conversation again. 

“Do you think it's safe to rest?” Rhondson looked up at the sky. “It's about time for lunch.” 

Link shifted his weight between his feet, pondering the question. “Ah, hm. Not here. It's too open.” 

“You raise a good point,” Rhondson replies. “Let's go.” 

They made it back over to the road, wary of Guardians or monsters, but after another half an hour on the road they began to relax. 

“Sorry if I seemed a little awkward,” Travy blurted out, kicking at a clump of dirt on the path. “Back with the Guardian.” 

“Oh, that?” Rhondson replied.  “I was only surprised.”

“I haven't seen one before, but I’ve heard about them a lot. My aunt travels, and she told me about how fearsome and powerful they were. It's sort of impressive, you know?” Travy sighed. “All that concentrated energy into a single beam that can kill almost anything it comes across…and they can fly .” 

Rhondson hesitated. “I never thought about it that way. You remind me of this strange man who talks about monsters constantly.” 

“Um—oh,” Travy replied, frowning contemplatively. Before she could say more, Rhondson had caught a glimpse of a few long stalks with large pink flowers on top. The girl grunted in confusion as Rhondson began tugging at a stalk. When it snapped off, she bent down and dug at the base of the plant. 

“I think it's a big one!” Rhondson said, tugging something free from the ground. She held up a large pink hearty radish for Link and Travy to see—Travy’s eyes widened in confusion at the root vegetable, while Link looked unimpressed. “Radish for lunch?” Rhondson said. “Travy? Link?” 

“What's it taste like?” Travy asked timidly. “My—uh, my mom gets a rash when she eats them so I’ve never had one before.” 

“They're very crisp, and a little spicy,” Rhondson explained, pulling up more radishes. “If you don't think you'll have any trouble, you can try.” 

“...Oh.” Travy frowned. “Maybe in return for it I can get you some mushrooms. I'm not great at foraging.”

“Hush, vaivi , I’m sure you'll do very well,” Rhondson said, brushing off her pantaloons as she walked back over to her companions. “Mushrooms are very hard to identify for me. We’ll make a good team.” 

“ Vaivi ?” 

“Oh.” Rhondon smiled. “I guess the best translation of that is ‘little girl,’ but I mean it more…as a sweet girl. A very nice, kind girl.” She turned back to Link. “Do you want radishes?” 

Link hesitated, then shook his head. “I will find my own food.” 

About an hour later they found a small patch of forest just off the road that looked like a suitable place to rest. A filthy, dented cooking pot sat there with a few broken stools and a bundle of wood hidden under a pile of rocks. Before anyone could interject Link immediately got to work, building a fire with the wood, then picking up the dirty pot. An old fountain with a weather-worn inscription stood nearby, next to a gurgling fissure of Malice. Nevertheless, the water ran clear and pure. It must have been from before the Calamity. Truly—he thought to himself as he worked to scrub away the ash and grime off the pot, his weary fingers stinging from the ice-cold water—this was proof of the kingdom's dominion despite the forces against it. 

“Thank you for washing the pot, Link,” Rhondson said as he arrived back at the camp. 

Travy, for some reason, had disappeared. Link put down the pot and searched for several seconds, but saw nothing. “Where's the girl?

“Travy went to get mushrooms,” Rhondson explained. “She said she would be back in ten minutes.”

Link quirked an eyebrow. “I will go foraging as well,” he said, swiveling on his heel and walking off into the woods. 

A few minutes after he started walking he found a loosely constructed bird’s nest with a few eggs inside. Forget the girl—he needed food, and quickly. He braced himself for the climb and began ascending the tree. His sword arm throbbed as it gripped onto branches, and he tried his best to ignore it. The owner of the nest fluttered towards him, screeching and clawing at his face, but he swatted the thing away and reached for the nest, then leapt down from the tree with three fresh eggs. He squatted down, put his prizes on the ground while he took his sword out and activated it. He hadn't tried to put holes in an egg with a Guardian sword before, but it didn't seem difficult. He brought the end of the sword to the egg and poked it gently. Link pulled it away, content with the hole, before making another one in the same fashion. He raised the egg to his lips and began sucking it. 

Eugh. He remembered why he didn't like raw egg. It was incredibly slimy. Link stood up, rolling his other two eggs in his left hand as he glanced around for something else to eat.

Then he heard a footstep. It was light, done with practiced ease—whoever made it clearly didn't want to be detected, so Link obliged and pretended he hadn't. There was a large clump of stamela shrooms growing in a nearby rotting log, so he made his way over to it. In the corner of his eye he saw the girl rush towards him. She wielded a knife that glowed orange. He waited for her to come closer, til she was nearly at his back—then he whirled around and tossed an egg in her face. 

The girl yelped and stumbled away. Link lunged forward, holding his sword to her throat. It took her a moment to realize what had happened as she spluttered and wiped egg off her face, but when she saw the icy blue surface of the Guardian sword, she froze, staring at Link with eyes that had suddenly turned red. 

“Just as I thought,” Link snarled. “You made me waste food.”

“No, I—” Travy flushed pink. “You threw it at me!” 

“Doesn't matter. Get out of here, rat, before I kill you.” 

“Rhondson could be worried about me.” 

“Fat chance," Link growled. "If she knew what you were she’d kill you too. I should have warned her.”

“No she wouldn't! She likes me, she—” 

“I said GET OUT !” Link shouted. “Teleport away, like a coward!” 

Travy's eyes darted around, sucking in a trembling breath. 

“Come on! What are you waiting for!” 

“Who were you talking to earlier?” Travy blurted out. 

“Forget it,” Link said, driving the blade even closer to the Yiga girl's throat. 

“I’ll scream,” Travy threatened, wincing as the blade cut into her skin. “And she’ll see you for what you really are.” 

Link pulled back the Guardian sword. “Then leave.”

“Look, I—part of what I said was the truth, I really am lost. Okay? And—you did save my life, I guess. You and Rhondson.”

“And what does that mean to you?” 

“It means maybe we can form a truce.” Travy stiffened. “I need to get back without humiliating myself and to stay friends with Rhondson, and you want to live, and also stay friends with her.” 

Link snorted. This kid was gutsier than he had expected. “Put the knife down.” 

Travy stepped back, flicking something on the hilt of the knife that deactivated the blade before dropping it. 

“See? All gone, you—you freak.” Travy held up her hands. 

Still holding his sword out, Link gingerly picked up Travy's knife. As he grabbed it, he felt something crack in his hand. Egg oozed out from between his fingers. “Agh,” he grumbled, shaking his eggy hand off. “I found some mushrooms. Take them and we'll go back to camp.”

 He stepped to one side so Travy could slip past him and collect the clump of stamela shrooms behind him. No more words were exchanged between the two as they both walked back over to Rhondson. 

“...And how are you two doing?” Rhondson asked as they arrived, looking up from stirring her sautéed radishes. A wonderful smell wafted away from the pot. There was nothing like some sautéed radishes with a sprig or two of Hylian herb on a long trip—maybe some extra mushrooms, too. Link's stomach grumbled loudly. 

“Oh, I see.” Rhondson chuckled. “There's enough radishes for three here.” 

“No, thank you,” Link said, sitting cross-legged on the ground next to the pot. 

“I brought some mushrooms back!” Travy said, showing Rhondson Link’s find. 

“I helped,” Link said. 

“Stamela shrooms!” Rhondson stood up and took them from Travy, brushing off the bits of stray wood on their stems. After some deliberation she put them in the pot. “These are a good size, too. Are you sure you don't want any, Link? I don't want any food to go to waste.” 

“What if you are hungrier than you expect?” Link said. 

“I’ll be fine,” Rhondson said. “Please, help yourself. It's impolite to let a fellow traveler wait for us to eat.” She sat back down, taking three wooden forks from a pouch on her hip and reaching over to give one to Travy and Link. He took it. Link didn't want to look for food with an energetic little murderer on the loose. It was a beautiful fork, the handle carved with delicate twisting designs and a small inscription denoting its maker: Hudson, with love. Link wasn't aware that he enjoyed carving. It seemed almost too precise a craft for the big man who carried lumber around to build houses. 

“Like it?” Rhondson asked. “My husband made it.” 

“I know,” Link replied. “It's intricate.” He had tried carving a wooden plate before, along with a few other pieces. He was interested in the craft, and he was able to tell Hylia he was making gifts for the vessel as an excuse. 

“I feel sort of bad eating with it,” Travy said, looking at her own fork. Link shot her a hateful look. She was clearly trying to kiss up to Rhondson because of the conversation they had earlier. 

“Ha, don't worry! This isn't his best work, by far,” Rhondson said. “You should see the fountain in our town, or the little wooden horses he’s made! My husband is very talented.”

“Is that his job…making wooden creatures? How does he make a fountain?” Travy turned the fork over in her hands. 

“He's a carpenter, but carving is one of his hobbies,” Rhondson explained. “I don't know how he makes fountains, though. I’ll ask him.” 

“I will have to ask him to teach me his techniques,” Link said. “When I return to Tarrey Town.” 

Rhondson turned her attention from digging inside her pack to Link. “Oh! Maybe. Here, Travy, look at this!” She pulled out a small, wrapped package and handed it to the girl. Travy hesitated, glancing down at the package like she wasn't sure what to do with it.

“Pull the little string around it. I don't want to ruin the wrapping. Hudson made it for my sister,” Rhondson said. 

Travy did as instructed, revealing a little wooden fish about the size of her fist. Every scale was carefully carved out, and its tail almost seemed to be in motion, flicking its way through the air as comfortably as it would through water. She stroked the side of the fish to feel the detailing. “It's beautiful.”

“Very beautiful,” Link said. “Why a fish?” 

“They're my sister's favorite animal when she was smaller,” Rhondson replied. “I asked Hudson to make it. I thought it might make her feel a little nostalgic.”

“Mine's sheep,” Travy blurted out, glaring at Link. “They're really fluffy.”

“Sheep are stupid. I like horses,” Link said haughtily. “They are beautiful and friendly.”

“Until they kick you in the face!” Travy retorted. “They're big and dangerous. Not like a sheep. Those are small.” 

“You don't like that horses defend themselves.”

“Fine,” Travy said. “Rhondson, who is this guy to you anyway?”

“Link?” Rhondson glanced back at him. “You haven't heard of him?” 

“No,” Travy said.

“He's a hero to all of Hyrule,” Rhondson replied calmly. “Aside from that, he's a very experienced traveler.” 

“Wow,” Travy said sarcastically, narrowing her eyes at him. “I always thought those legends were sort of dumb.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Oh,” Travy began, rolling her eyes, “You know, the whole Champions and the hero thing. I think it's stupid that people from all different places and completely different convictions would actually come together to just lick the boots of this lame hylian king. I mean, I’m hylian, and I think it's stupid. That just tells you how stupid it is.” 

Rhondson wrinkled her nose. “They were respected warriors coming together willingly to fight a common enemy. I don't see how that's bootlicking.” 

“Don't you think they could have tried something else? Something different than going along with hylian superiority complexes?” 

“I don't see how that makes a difference.”

“Look, it's hard to explain—uh, studying all that used to be a hobby of mine, and it really seems to me like the Champions were a bunch of cowards who—” 

“What do you know about any of this!?” Link hissed. 

“More than you do,” Travy replied coolly. “Probably.”

“You impudent little—”

“Quiet, you two,” Rhondson barked. “That was all a long time ago. I think no matter what our opinions are on the Champions, it doesn't matter much now.”

Travy stared at Rhondson in disbelief. “What? But I’m right, he can't deny it!” 

“No you're not!” Link shouted. Fire still bubbled in his chest for these people he didn't know. It surprised him.

“Back in— my family, we don't shut down ideas we know are right,” Travy retorted. “And we know how to argue!” 

“You're not arguing, you're slandering them!” 

“If you think the truth is slander, that's your problem!” Travy argued. 

“That isn't the truth,” Link said, whipping his head around to look at Rhondson. “What do you think of the Yiga Clan?” 

Travy immediately went pale. 

Rhondson sighed. “Why do you ask?” 

“Ah, the—didn't you say that the attacks were becoming worse in Gerudo Town?” Link stammered. 

“Well, that's what my mother said, but she tends to exaggerate. I think we can all agree that they're very cowardly…”

“Um, I—don't know much about them,” Travy said. “Why are they cowardly?” 

“They won't stay and fight for anything if they can help it,” Rhondson said. “They have the ability to vanish whenever they like, so they'll destroy things and never pay the consequences.” 

“Like rats,” Link hissed. “Rats running back to their holes.” 

Rhondson grimaced. “Link has more personal experience, I think. He drove them out of their hideout—there are rumors he's done more, too.” 

“...Drove them out?” 

Rhondson nodded.

“That's all?” 

“...This conversation is becoming strange,” Rhondson said. “Link, you can explain what happened, right?” 

Link looked at Rhondson in bewilderment. “Ah—” He started shoveling food in his mouth, then pointed to it. 

“You should explain,” Travy said, bitterness leaking into her tone. 

“Can't. Mouth full,” Link insisted in a muffled voice before stuffing more radish into his face.

“You just started eating.” 

“He also just saved our lives, Travy. Let him eat,” Rhondson said. 

As Link ate, the whole group fell silent. This gave him more than enough time to sort through his thoughts. The girl was trying to incriminate him, he knew. He had heard enough of her clan scream in his ears about how their precious Kohga would come back and personally pull out his entrails for what he did. It hadn't been a perfect plan—and that was one of the few things he regretted. He had started directly after a blood moon, driving them out of their usual hiding spots and picking off any he could catch unaware. Meanwhile Buliara and her soldiers scouted around their hideout area, inserting explosives in hidden crannies and looking for possible exits. It was simple: make sure as many of them were inside their nest, find all possible escapes and guard them, then bomb the place. They’d rush out like ants, if they weren't crushed or killed by the blast, and he and the Gerudo soldiers would wipe them off the face of Hyrule. 

Hylia had been skeptical of it. They’ll catch on , she said. Wouldn't it be better to wait until the vessel is on her rightful throne and has made a sizable army instead of relying on these ruffians?   

Link ignored her warning, and on the day of the ambush he volunteered to set off the explosion. He had crawled up the designated path, surefooted as ever despite the sandstorm blasting against his back. The warriors had given him a fuse to set the chain of explosions off, but Link wasn't sure how to use it, so he decided to use his slate’s bombs instead. It was probably more reliable.

Then, as Her Grace had predicted, it had all gone wrong. Kishu kicked him away and stood over him, jeering as she boasted about stopping his plan. Before she could do more he detonated the bombs. The entire structure caved in. He had rushed through the ruined hideout, already littered with bodies, trying to make it to the rendezvous point as his head spun. When he arrived the warriors guarding it were dead. The others told him that the mission was overall a success, and they had ensured the clan wouldn't trouble anyone for a long time. That was far from the truth, of course. 

Link stopped eating, and cleared his throat. “I bombed their hideout a year ago,” he said. 

Travy’s chest puffed up, and her face flushed pink before she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. 

Rhondson cleared her throat. “I know you've been to Kara-Kara, Link. Do you think you'll be going towards Kara-Kara?” She turned to Travy. 

“Probably,” Travy replied, helping herself to a little radish. 

“It's a little slow—nothing like Gerudo Town. There are still things to do there, more or less. Do you have any recommendations?”

Link stared at Rhondson in confusion. What was she doing? “I—ah, there is a restaurant on the west side of Kara-Kara. They have a very good music band that plays there. The food is decent.”

“Surly Seal?” Rhondson asked. “I used to get drinks there. They're expensive.”

“Everything is overpriced in Kara-Kara,” Link said dismissively. “The men don't have the option to go to Gerudo Town so they have to deal with it.” 

Rhondson shrugged. “That's the tradition. It's not as much of a problem for you, seeing as you gained the respect of the Gerudo despite that. Is that your only recommendation?”

“Why did you change the subject?” 

“I thought you were done speaking about that topic, and I thought things were becoming tense,” Rhondson said firmly. 

“I wasn't finished,” Link lied. 

“Go ahead and say what you will then. I think you're being very hostile to Travy and I don't know why, so I’m trying to encourage you to find some common ground.” 

“It's fine, Rhondson, There's no way he’d ever want to get along with me,” Travy said sullenly. 

“You wouldn't either,” Link shot back. 

“Maybe I would if you hadn't immediately decided you were suspicious of me!”

“Do you know how many people travel these roads?! I will tell you this—they are certainly not all friendly!” 

“What did I do to make you suspicious of me so quickly, then!” Travy retorted. 

Link's chest puffed up in indignation for a moment. “I saw you throw a rock at the bokoblins. You were trying to provoke them before running for help.” 

“That's all!?”

“I find that to be very incriminating,” Link hissed. 

Rhondson stood up. “Link—come with me.” 

Travy’s face suddenly drained of color. “Wait—are—”

“I need to tell him how to behave around a young lady.” Rhondson said. “Come on.”

Link grimaced. He stood up like he was told to, arms at his sides, and marched alongside Rhondson until they reached a clearing just out of earshot. 

“How old are you?” Rhondson said, her face clouding with unhidden annoyance. “Twenty? Twenty-three? Something like that.” 

“Hundred twenty-one,” Link replied.

“Physically. You're an adult, and you should know better than to treat a lost child like that.”

“She's not lost. She's Yiga.” He glanced back at the camp, then slid Travy’s knife out from one of his pouches. “While we were looking for food she tried to kill me with this.” 

“Link—” Rhondson sighed. “I—I want to believe you, but you’ve been behaving—oddly. More than usual. Is there anything you need to tell me? I knew a doctor in Gerudo Town, she helped the soldiers there—have you heard of warrior's heart?” 

Link shuddered, and took a step back. This was out of character for any Gerudo. Had he come across a doppelgänger on the road? Was he being duped this whole time? “Why? What do you want?” he asked as his hands began to tremble. 

“Nothing,” Rhondson said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “You're not alone in this. It's very common for people with warrior's heart to think the battle never ends. The doctor can help you—with the tremors, the outbursts. Paranoia too.”

Link's expression changed from confusion to anger. “There's nothing wrong with me,” he growled, pushing Rhondson away. “You're not my friend, you think I’m pathetic because of what you saw!” 

“What?” Rhondson said. “I don't think you're pathetic.” 

“Look at this knife!” Link shoved it into Rhondson’s face. “It's from her! She tried to kill me! Don't you understand!? She's one of them!” 

“That's nothing like the knives they carry, Link,” Rhondson replied, stepping back. “Look, you don't have to talk to her. I'm sorry if I pressured you into it, but stop accusing a child of being a Yiga warrior. They don't send out children.” 

Link's hand gripped the hilt of the Yiga knife. “Fine.” He put it back in the pouch, and turned away. “Fine! I don't know why I bothered to accompany you if you aren't going to trust me!” 

“You can leave if you want.” Rhondson's tone grew cold. “We can take care of ourselves.” 

Link hesitated. Could they? He stared into Rhondson's eyes, trying to see if he could muster up any sympathy, but all she did was frown at him. Hylia was right—he should leave. He was getting too invested in her life. Mortals were slippery like that. He sucked in a breath, then dashed off towards the road, leaving the gerudo behind. 

(A/N 2025: More Travys. I really like her)

Chapter Text

Finally, Hylia said as Link made it to the road. They were slowing you down. 

“I probably would have made it to Riverside Stable, yes,” Link replied, returning to his regular jog. “I need to do something about that yiga.” 

Why? She probably won't do anything to the woman. 

“I don't want her to catch me off-guard. How much did you see of the attempt on my life?”

I was busy.  

Link felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach. “She's quick, and the area isn't safe. Better to get rid of her.”

Very well. But what of the woman? She doesn't believe you, and if you dispatch the girl close to her she will certainly notice. 

“I’ll wait until she breaks off from Rhondson,” Link said. 

You're going to follow them?

Link nodded. “I need to do something first.” 

He jogged off into the forest again. It wouldn't be difficult to find a patch of silent princesses somewhere—he’d crush the leaves and eat them to heighten his senses. Usually it was better to cook the flowers but he wasn't about to risk sneaking back over to the camp. Past a small strip of woods and into a hilly clearing he saw a few clustered around a tree. They were very abundant in this part of the country; in the spring their bright yellow pollen would smother the ruins where they grew in giant clouds. Link plucked the area clean, then crushed two of the leaves with his fingers and stuck them in his mouth. The rest he stuffed in his belt. 

The effect always took a moment to kick in, and Link never noticed it until after it left and couldn't concentrate as well on his environment. The chatter of birds nearly drowned out the nearby murmurs of Rhondson and Travy. They were passing through the forest on the road nearby, finished with their lunch. 

This seems like a waste of time. The traitor is just a girl—you caught her the last time, didn't you? You could do it again.

He hesitated. The laughs of his former companions echoed into the distance, louder than they should have been. Hissing quietly he began creeping towards the sounds. 

Link.

“Yes, Your Grace?” he whispered.

Stop following them.

“But—” 

But what? There's absolutely no reason why you should go after them. 

“What if Rhondson—I—” 

I knew you were developing feelings for her! 

“No!” Link raised his voice to a whine. “I’m not, why won't you believe me!”

How many times have you lied to me in the past week? More times than you'll admit, I am sure!

“What could I have lied about?” 

Now you're just—denying it!? You’ve been ridiculous over the past day. I think it's high time we talked face to face.

“I’m not denying it, I have lied before, I know,” Link insisted. He felt his consciousness begin to fade– the whiteness from a few days ago reappearing. Fear rushed through him. His stomach dropped, and his knees started buckling.  “I simply do not think there is anything I could have lied about recently! Please, now is not the time, I don’t want to go in there–” 

He awoke in a strange place. White pillars loomed above him like trees in a misty forest. An endless pool of water covered the ground, but he didn’t feel damp as he stood up, brushing the front of his tunic off as he waited for the only other inhabitant of this realm. 

She walked out from behind a pillar, her long golden hair flowing behind her. Her appearance was exactly like the vessel’s, except for a bright light that obscured her face. Link kneeled in respect. 

“Rise, my knight,” she said, and he did. His arms were at his sides, shoulders straight, eyes on her—just as he was trained. 

She waited expectantly for him to say something. He knew what she wanted, naturally. Early on he had made mistakes, but his soul was bound to hers; it made sense that he would know instinctively. “I love you, Your Grace,” he said. “I love you and your vessel. Why would I—”

“You and I know that spiel is fake, ” Hylia said bitterly. “You're just saying what I want to hear.” 

Link swallowed. It usually worked, but it took time. “I am very sorry about today, I know I have made mistakes. I know I am a liar. I don't want any more trouble, I will do my best to fix my attitude, I’m not perfect, you know this, that is why you are helping me, to tell me what I am doing wrong so I can fix it, I just want to fix it, for your sake, I want you to be happy.” He sucked in a breath, hoping that was enough. 

Hylia tilted her head. “Me?” Her voice was softer now. 

Link nodded. “Why would I not want you to be happy?” he added cautiously. “My patron goddess deserves to be happy.” 

“Ugh, nevermind, you're so shallow ,” Hylia said, the coldness returning to her tone as she turned around. “You could only give me the worship of a mortal, I see that now.” 

“No, that is not true,” Link claimed, taking a step towards her. “After all, you know I am more than that, we are more than simple mortals, we are bound together, goddess to your humble servant, the demigod.” 

Hylia chuckled. “I’ve certainly taught you how to flatter a lady with words and not just looks,” she said. 

Link smiled weakly. She was relenting. She’d let him go now. Hylia turned back around and began walking towards him, making him tense until she wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. A shiver of relief ran down his spine, and he hugged her back. 

“You're such a sweet boy when you want to be,” Hylia said.

“Do you still think—”

“No, hush.” She squeezed him. “Honestly, I think I just wanted to be with you like this again.”

“Can I go after the girl?” 

“Why do you care so much about them,” Hylia said sullenly. “And it's may I. You’ve forgotten again.” 

“May I?”

“Answer the question.”

“Ah, I—I’m concerned about a citizen of Hyrule, that's all.”

“The truth.” 

Link held onto Hylia more tightly. “Perhaps there is some desire I have–” he lied, “–but I know it’s wrong, Your Grace, I swear, I am trying my best to control myself.” 

“Very good.” She patted his back and stepped away. “I admit I don’t trust you around such creatures, especially after yesterday. Do you understand?” 

“Completely.”

Hylia faded from his vision, as did the pillars and everything else, replaced with the canopy of a tree above him. He gritted his teeth as the sights and sounds of the forest rushed back. The back of his head throbbed. He must have fallen on it when Hylia had put him in his mind. Without thinking he sat up, and two crows pecking at his once-prone body flew away, cawing at each other in alarm. 

Wonderful. Let’s go to the stable, then, shall we?

“Yes, let’s go,” Link said, rising to his feet and walking to the road. The sound of his feet on the path seemed to echo in ears. Something hung heavy in the back of his throat, perhaps a question, a choke, a cry. Had he really lied to her about succumbing to temptation? There was an ache there that had been left when he abandoned his companions. Muddled feelings of shame swirled in his head, and trying to pick out anything was like trying to dam a river with a comb– so daunting that even considering it made him want to give up. It didn’t feel like that sort of love, but why had he fought Hylia over it? If there was anything he had learned it was that he could never trust his own mind. He was a liar, so of course he would lie to himself. When he dropped the confusion, disgust and hatred washed over him, and he asked himself why he would ever do such a thing–taking someone’s act of goodwill towards him and turning it into an excuse.

As the midday sun began to fall into the hills, Link came across the ruins near Riverside Stable. Smoke still rose from them. “Closed down” was a bit of an understatement; the stable and the little village surrounding it had been burnt to ash. However, there was still fresh water and a few usable amenities. As long as one stayed clear of the guardian stalkers roving the place, it would be a good location to set up camp. 

And rove they did! Link could already glimpse a group of three creeping around. He ducked behind a dilapidated stone wall. Those silent princesses he had taken would come in handy. He tore off several leaves and stuffed them into his mouth, keeping his eyes on the guardians. The clear sound of malice squelching through the joints and clay gave him an idea of where they might be headed, and it seemed to be away from him. 

Something white flashed in the corner of his eye, and he saw a human figure dart behind a tree, dangerously close to where the guardians were. The shock of the incident lasted longer than the split second image he had gotten, like a flicker burned onto his retinas. What was there? He couldn't let it get hurt. He hissed at the guardians, urging them to go faster so he could find out what it was. They didn't oblige. 

Link? Hylia said, breaking his concentration. There seems to be a great many of these so-called guardians. Do you want me to scout out the area?  

Link grimaced and returned his focus to the ones passing through. 

Link…?

He nodded. 

Very well. I’ll return soon. 

The creaking and squelching from the guardian stalkers began to fade. Link lunged forward towards the trees he had seen the figure in, and looked for any sign of them. Nothing—but in the distance he heard what sounded like Rhondson and Travy again. 

They were singing some sort of ditty about a lonely prince and his horse. It was a sweet and slow and strangely mournful tune. The prince was a traveler looking for a kingdom after he had been exiled from his own, but he could find nowhere to lay his head, or so the song went.

“By Virtues.” Rhondson suddenly stopped. “They told me it was bad, but—”

“It looks pretty normal to me,” Travy replied. There was an uncomfortable silence between her and Rhondson, and she cleared her throat. “I mean, I haven’t seen it before, so I wouldn't know what to expect.” 

Rhondson sighed. “It was one of the smaller stable towns. There used to be an archway as you entered here, and there were a few barricades to drive off monsters. And over here was a little blacksmith shop.” 

“Blacksmith?”

“They work with harder metals, from what I remember–and they make horseshoes. Those things horses wear on their hooves.” 

They’ve all retreated to the south. I think they found some deer to shoot at; who knows. 

Link's focus shifted back to Hylia, and he nodded. “Is it safe to stay here for the night?”

Probably. 

He slipped away from the travelers and searched the area for a good place to rest. Besides the blacksmith shop there were a few buildings that he could use as a makeshift shelter. A little stone cottage, half-crumbled but with a partially intact roof, looked perfect for his usage. Link stepped over a broken wall, and immediately heard glass crunch under his boot. The inside of the cottage was full of rubble. A burnt table stood on its last two legs, cushioned by a rug of grass, daisies, and silent princesses. It hadn't been long, and nature was already taking the place for itself. As he whistled the tune Rhondson and Travy were singing, he sat down in a sturdy-looking corner of the building. He would take a short breather, and go find food, he thought to himself. 

When Link’s eyes fluttered open he saw a shadow in the dark. He lurched awake, grabbing the hilt of his sword and yanking it out before standing up. 

The shadow stumbled back. “Hey! We have a truce!” 

Link lowered his blade. “What do you want?”

It was Travy, of course. She was balancing on the table with her hands in her pockets, staring at Link contemplatively. “You snore pretty loud. If you want to keep away from Rhondson you’d better stop snoring.” 

“You cannot stop snoring,” Link insisted.

“Yes you can. All you need to do is keep your nose clear and your sleeping position correct.” Travy’s eyebrows raised. “Also if you were dead you wouldn't snore.”

“So you were here to kill me in my sleep,” Link growled. Typical backstabbing yiga. 

“No! No, I came here to—uh, talk, yeah. You're crazy. Crazier than my sister th—um. Crazier than an evil monkey stealing Master Kohga’s bananas. Who did you think you were talking to earlier?”

Link felt like passing out again. “No one! I'm not crazy, you were hearing things!” 

“Huh,” Travy said, rocking on her heels, “I think you were talking about how you were in love with Rhondson. You're such a creep for that. All she wanted to do was help you.” 

“That was why I left! ” Link hissed, standing up and making Travy scamper several feet back. “I didn't—I—” He stopped himself. “I'm better off alone.” 

“Nice. Sounds like bad advice though. Whatever that voice is telling you seems really fishy,” Travy said, hopping over a low wall. “Not that you'd ever listen to me. Anyway—bye, sucker. Thanks for my knife!” 

She dashed off into the ruins. Link jumped over the wall to chase after her, but stopped. Travy was probably going back to her and Rhondson’s camp, and he couldn't risk it. Instead he returned to his corner in the house, checking his valuables. The knife he had confiscated from the yiga girl was gone, but nothing else had been touched. 

It was bizarre. He’d never call a yiga honorable, but he could respect that Travy wasn't interested in taking his supplies. Was she toying with him? Leading him into some trap? No, she wouldn't have tried to kill him earlier then. Terribly inefficient of her to leave him alive a minute ago, too. Judging by her general record of honesty and ineptitude, she was stuck with Rhondson—she couldn't teleport away. 

He could take advantage of this. 

(A/N 2025: flower thing I made a while ago that I think fits the chapter yeehaw)

Chapter Text

Two Years Prior

The candlelight cast an orange glow against his leg. Wrinkled fingers stretched it out, felt the weakened muscles and twisted knee, poked him with their fingernails. 

“At least it’s not numb,” the Sheikah woman said, pulling her hands back as she let go of Link’s right leg. Her name was Pimm—she lived out on the cliffs, her husband's grave guarding her door from Yiga. “Means there's no nerve damage.”

Link pulled his leg back in. Stretching it out too much still hurt, despite the medication he was taking. He grabbed the bandages that were sitting next to him on the bed and began carefully wrapping his leg in them. 

“Don't do it too tightly,” Pimm warned. “It'll reduce blood flow.” 

“I know,” Link mumbled. 

“Your healer friend did a wonderful job with the magic she had,” Pimm said. “And there are ways that it can be mended completely. We’d have to perform a little surgery, I’m afraid, and it would take a year of healing and rebuilding those muscles, but it's better than nothing.”

Link grunted. It wasn't like he had a choice. It was either surgery, or he could stay like this forever—no good in a fight, a burden to everyone. His friends were counting on him. Zelda was waiting for him, calling out to him for help. It had to be him. His chest swelled up in pain and pride.

“I’ll leave you be,” Pimm said, standing up and brushing her skirts off. “I hear that Paya is going to be leading a ceremony tonight.” 

Link nodded. “Coming of age for one of the village kids.” Against his cot there was a cane– a sturdy red one made of oak wood. Impa had an extra cane she had let him borrow for the time being, or so Link hoped. She had given it to him with the finality of a funeral officiant, her scowl garbing her face in the appropriate black. He grabbed the cane and pushed himself up off his cot. “Will you be there?”

“I might go,” Pimm replied. “The night air does me no good but I’ll never hear the end of it if I don't.”

“Paya and Josha would appreciate it,” Link said. 

“Wouldn't we all.” Pimm began walking to the front desk of the inn, slowly making her way out of the building as she gave the sleeping innkeeper, Ollie, a look of halfhearted annoyance. “Do take care of yourself, Master Link.”

Link shrugged. It was about thirty minutes before the ceremony, so he thought he might as well take a walk. Leaning on his cane he stood up, shifted around until he felt comfortable, and strode forward. It used to hurt when he put weight on his twisted leg, but nowadays the cane was more for balancing. He walked towards the door, flicking Ollie gently on the shoulder before sliding the door open and stepping outside.  

The sun's fiery head still poked above the cliffs, making Link squint as his eyes adjusted. Clouds swirled around the sun like line dancers, casting odd shadows as a stiff wind blew them over and away, another one to briskly take its place. Kakariko looked best at sunset. Vivid oranges reflected off of the village houses, and villagers began heading home from their work, solemn and contented, as was tradition among them. Despite having spent the better part of two years regularly hanging out with Paya, their "Hello, Master Link," always had a note of surprise. They knew who he was, and though the expectations they (mostly Impa) had were intimidating, it was nice to be around people who appreciated you from the beginning. The Sheikah had their role, and taught him his, at least in part. 

The loud clucking of a cucco snapped him out of his musing, and he looked down to see one of Cado's brightly colored birds glaring at him through a beady eye. 

He leaned over to look less intimidating to the animal. The cucco's feathers puffed out, and it started to cluck louder. Cado's hens weren't fond of him; unfortunately he had harassed them one too many times, but he wasn't about to let them wander around at night or roost somewhere dangerous. Limping towards it, he held out one hand while steadying himself with the other. It took a few steps back, flicking its head from side to side as its large comb and wattle jostled. 

"Come on," Link said, trying to slide his hand under its body. "I can't chase you right now. Truce."

Despite the hen's attitude earlier its feathers relaxed as Link lifted it off the ground. When it tipped a little to one side it squawked, flapping its wings to right itself before Link brought it to his chest. The bird was surprisingly heavy for being covered in light, silky feathers. 

"Sh." Link wobbled as he stood to his full height. He could return the bird back to its pen, he thought. This was much better than having to walk around town aimlessly. Shifting the weight of the cucco in his arm he began making his way to Cado's house. 

The further he walked into the village, the more he realized the paths were unusually crowded. Sheikah milled around the small clearing, talking amongst themselves or helping set up a small platform in the center of the clearing. Vivid orange sunlight shone onto the chieftain's house, casting a shadow as it watched over the preparations for the ceremony. 

"Master Link!" someone called out. Link turned his head towards the speaker. Cado's arms were full—he was taking a piece of the platform and putting it on the frame he had laid down with Dorian's help. "Did they get out again?" 

"I didn't see any others," Link replied. 

"Good!" Cado grunted, placing the wooden piece down. "I'm a little busy right now, so if you could take her back I would be very grateful." 

"Master Link, look at the flowers!" Cottla called, pointing to a long, lush garland of flowers around the border of the platform. "I made that all by myself!" 

"Good job, Cottla!" Link said. "How'd you find the time?"

"Stayed up all night!" Cottla replied cheerily. She was terribly busy most of the time—if she wasn't caring for Koko she was trying to do housework, completing the rigorous training required of all Sheikah youngsters, or doing odd jobs to save up for her "business," whatever that meant.

 Link could respect that level of dedication. "It looks great." 

Cottla beamed. "Thank you!"

Link began walking to Cado's house again. The cucco in his arms fluttered its wings, recognizing its home, and clucked in approval. As he ambled closer to the pen, he heard a soft voice—not one he was expecting, either. 

"Silly bird, silly, silly thing. Sh sh sh…" 

"Paya!" Link shouted. 

There was a yelp and a loud squawking noise as Paya ran out from behind Cado's coop holding a frightened cucco. "Link!" she exclaimed. "I told you to stop scaring me like that!"

"I wasn't even trying that time," Link said. "You're just nervous." 

Paya flushed slightly pink, spluttering half-formed words for a second before sighing. "A– a little bit." She tucked a loose bit of white hair behind her ear. "But I think that's only natural." 

"If I were you, dressed up in front of the whole village and giving a speech, I wouldn't be nervous at all."

For his insolence Paya threw the cucco she was holding at his face. Link dropped his own bird, then ducked. 

"Serves you right." Paya stuck her tongue out at him. 

Link rolled his eyes. Some of the older Sheikah said he had "corrupted" her and made her too headstrong, but he thought his own self-confidence had rubbed off onto the girl until she didn't tolerate him bullying her all the time, and he liked it that way. "You ruined my tunic." 

"Is it okay? I—" Paya's eyes widened. 

"Yeah, I'm teasing you."

Paya smiled back, unable to keep a straight face as she giggled and turned away from Link in embarrassment. 

"I like your dress. The blue goes well with your eyes." It was a dress done up with the typical Sheikah style, but with a little added flair like embroidered flowers on its long sleeves. They were plum blossoms, of course – a symbol of persistence in hard times. 

"Thank you, it was my mother's," Paya replied. 

"Must be nice to have something left over from your parents," Link said, idly plucking a feather off his clothes. 

"It is nice…you can almost feel their presence in it." Paya smiled wistfully as she mirrored Link's actions, brushing off her skirts a little. "Oh–Great-aunt Purah is in town. She wanted to speak to you." 

"She didn't have to come all the way here just to talk to me," Link said. 

"It's a good thing she also came to see her grand-niece," Paya shot back. "I should be going to prepare for the ceremony." 

Link shrugged. "See you later." 

Paya ran off, leaving Link in the cucco pen. Link decided to check the fences around the pen for any holes. Following a trail of conspicuous feathers, he managed to find a large one. After stacking some logs Cado had probably intended to be firewood at the base of the hole, Link strolled out of the pen. He was being useful today, he thought to himself.  

As soon as he made it to the town square, the solemn expressions on the villagers made Link acutely aware of how unfamiliar he was with Sheikah customs. The sound of a mournful stringed instrument and Paya's voice filled the air as she played and sang music she had been practicing for months. Josha sat next to her, hands folded neatly in her lap. Impa herself was off to one side of the stage, watching over the proceedings with a careful eye. She was gripping her own cane, a small one to match her height. Everyone around him was nodding along, swaying to the tune or humming it to themselves—even Pimm, who seemed to be enjoying herself now. Link searched for a place to stand before he felt a tug on the sleeve of his tunic. 

"Linky!" Purah hissed, dragging him over to the back of the crowd. "There you are!"

"Purah?" Link asked. "What?"

"You looked a little lost, so I pulled you over here," Purah replied. She resembled a bespectacled woman in her twenties—despite being even older than Link at one hundred and twenty five or so. Unlike her fellow Sheikah, her hair was cut in a neat bob with no bun to be seen. When Link had asked her about it, she said messing with her hair gave her a headache. "Paya's doing great, isn't she?"

Link raised his eyebrows. "She sounds good." 

"I had no idea she had such a nice voice," Purah said. 

"She doesn't talk about it much," Link replied. "You have to really nudge her into it."

"Yeah, but Impa always talks about her in her letters," Purah said. "She never mentioned this."

The two listened to Paya sing for another minute or so before she stopped, and turned to Josha. 

"Are you ready?" she asked. 

Josha nodded, and they both stood. 

"Long ago, in an era beyond eras, there was a tribe," Paya began. 

"The tribe was fierce and proud, but wild and alone in the world, serving no master, and with no god to their name," Josha recited, placing her hands behind her back. 

"One day, the Goddess Hylia came by their village, singing a sweet song. 'Join me in the battle against the demons,' she asked. But the selfish tribe refused and shut their doors to the Goddess." 

The crowd waited for the next part of the story, holding their breaths as if they hadn't heard it a thousand times. 

"The demon tribe began to gather around the village. Still, no one went in or out."

"The demon tribe began to scratch and claw at the village gates, howling in their horrible demon tongue to be let in!"

Josha made claws with her hands and scratched at the air for emphasis, and parts of the crowd made quiet hissing noises, whispering "let me in! let me in!"  

"Eventually, some of the tribe saw how foolish they were being by not helping the Goddess or giving her hospitality. When the demons broke through the walls, some of the tribe snuck away in the dead of night to find her, nothing but a flickering shadow to their enemies," Josha said. 

"The Goddess was indignant about the way she had been shut out by the stubborn tribe after trying to appeal to their good graces, but when she heard the sound of horns coming from the inside of the village she rushed to its defense. But much of the village had already been destroyed…" 

"The survivors begged to be taken under Hylia's wing. She agreed to help them, but uttered a curse upon them: 'Your eyes will be stained with the blood of your kin, and you will always heed my call, lest you become like them.'"

The crowd murmured amongst themselves in agreement, except for Purah, who muttered something along the lines of "that's not how eyes work."

Paya nodded solemnly, and took a paintbrush and a bowl of red paint out from underneath her chair. "Josha, do you promise to not be stubborn like the old tribe, and instead be open and generous?" 

Josha turned to Paya and adjusted her glasses. "I do."

"Do you promise to protect the tribe and keep its secrets, with your life if necessary?"

Josha nodded vigorously. "I do."

"Do you promise to be diligent and steadfast with your work, fulfilling your purpose in the tribe?" 

"I do." 

"And, finally," Paya began, "do you promise to heed the Goddess's call and serve her descendants?" 

Josha's chest swelled with pride. She took off her glasses and smiled at Paya. "I do." 

"You are now a full member of the Sheikah tribe," Paya said, painting the traditional Sheikah eye on Josha's forehead, and gently taking her hand to show her to the crowd. Everyone in the village applauded, even Purah and Link, though the latter wobbled slightly. Link glimpsed Pimm wiping a tear from her eye as Josha rushed over to her parents and gave them a hug. 

The crowd began to dissipate, forming smaller groups as some of the villagers brought out their own instruments and set up tables filled with sweets. Cottla placed a flower garland on a smiling Josha, then dashed off to grab little frog-shaped cakes from a table and stuff them in her mouth. The older Sheikah brought out bottles of wine and passed them around. 

Link, hungry as always, made his way over to a refreshment table, Purah in tow. He took a handful of sweets and began sticking them into his mouth, one by one. 

"That was your first time seeing a ceremony like that, huh?" Purah asked. 

Link grunted. His mouth was full. 

"I don't know if I've ever heard of a Hylian attending one, to be completely honest. Consider yourself lucky. Or not!" Purah shrugged. 

Link swallowed. "Hylia would never do that."

"Huh?"

"In the story. Hylia seems sort of mean."

Purah snorted, barely withholding a grin. "Don't say that too loudly." She grabbed a honey candy off the table and popped it into her mouth. "Legends are always like that. It's not a comment about the goddess herself, it's just an explanation for how things are."

"So it's not real," Link said.

"Of course not," Purah replied. "Red or brown eyes are just a hereditary thing." 

"Why do you serve the royal family, then?" 

"Why do you , Mr. Champion Hero Loyal Knight and Bodyguard?" Purah crossed her arms. 

Link had never really thought about it much. Why wouldn't he? "Because Zelda and the–" Link paused. "She's my friend."

"That's why I do it, among other things. That's why Impa does too, but I'm not sure about everyone else. They probably just want to please Hylia and their tribe, and being raised to do it doesn't help either," Purah said. 

"It doesn't seem to bother anyone," Link said, gesturing to the festivities around them. 

"A happy servant is still a servant. And you had a choice..." Purah said, shaking her head. "But that's a pretty weird topic of conversation. I wanted to talk to you about your leg–" 

"Auntie Purah!" Paya picked up her skirts a little to rush over to her great-aunt's side. The two quickly embraced. "Did you like it?"

"You did great," Purah said. "I'm very proud of you." 

"Thank you," Paya said, hugging Purah tighter before the older woman squawked. 

"Hey, not too tight! You're going to hurt my back!" 

"Sorry!" Paya let go of Purah, who groaned as she brushed off her skirt. Then Paya turned to Link. "How did you like it?"

"Your singing and playing was really good," Link replied. "The story was weird but the recital was decent." 

"I'm surprised you've never heard it before," Paya said, tilting her head to one side. "I've known it since I was a little girl."

"You never told me," Link said.

"I thought surely someone else would have," Paya replied. "Like Auntie, or Grandmother." 

"Nope." Link shook his head. "Why do you serve the royal family?"

Paya blanched. "Uh—um, why do you ask?" Purah put one hand on her hip and glared at him. 

Link shrugged. "Curious."

Paya looked at her shuffling feet. "Because it's the right thing to do," she said after a pause. "I've never thought about it much." 

"Me neither," Link admitted. "We all know it will help the kingdom."

Paya nodded. "The princess can't run a kingdom all by herself when she's freed. Everyone will do their part." 

Link felt a pulse of electricity run through his body, but he stood frozen in place. He grabbed his cane and rubbed his thumb against its handle. "Yeah."

"—Speaking of that," Purah butted in, "I have a proposal for Link." 

The two teenagers turned to Purah. 

"It's about the Shrine of Resurrection," Purah said. "I have a theory about how it works, and since it did…a salvageable job of fixing you up last time, I thought we could try it again."

"That would take too long," Link said. 

"Aha, but I haven't told you the details yet," Purah said, wagging her finger. "We had never used it on anything before our little test run with you. I have a theory that it was left unfinished, and that's what caused the glitch that overcooked you. According to the calculations I've made, the resurrection should have taken…an hour." 

Link stared at Purah in disbelief. 

"Do you really think my ancestors would have made such an inefficient piece of technology? My guess is it was going to be heavily used—imagine using a thing like that in a war! Victory after victory, with not a single casualty. Put a dead body in there with enough pieces, revive him, give him leave to recover from dying, and he'll be back on the front, good as new. It would save so many people."

"That sounds amazing, Auntie," Paya said. "But I don't see how that helps."

"Well, it doesn't just raise the dead. When I put you in there you were missing vital bits. Regular healing magic just quickens the natural healing process—it can't grow back your left lung if it's already gone. What the shrine does is different. It has data about an ideal healthy body in it, intelligently compares that with what needs to be fixed, and alters whatever it's ordered to alter. We wouldn't have to re-break your knee or do anything to it beforehand. I could get rid of some of those scars if you wanted, or even fix your teeth!" 

"Why didn't you fix them before?" Link asked. "Could have made me taller." 

Purah snorted and waved her hand dismissively. "I'm not an ass, Linky. You could have liked how you looked, and you were dead, so I was much more interested in getting you back on your feet." 

"I think short men are pretty cute," Paya blurted out before flushing. Link crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her, and she burst into giggles. 

"You two are weirdos," Purah said. "Anyway! That's my offer."

Link thought for a moment about the Master Sword placed on a pillow at the chieftain's house. "If you can run and fight again instead of lazing around here you'll get it back. Two years! It baffles me that a knight with your skills could take this long. Are you afraid of your own purpose?" the chieftain had said. "I want to see the princess again before I die. Stop prolonging my misery." 

That sword was like no other to him. When he held it he felt whole, like his own limbs had been missing something until it was in his grasp. How many heroes had held it before him and won countless battles? Its blade was always sharp no matter how roughly he used it, and its edges shimmered in the light. 

 He focused his attention on Purah, a steely look in his blue eyes. "I'll take it."

(A/N 2025: A silly picture of Paya and Link for your perusal.)

Chapter Text

"What is it, hero?" 

Link stood up off the ground, glancing at the endless pillars that loomed above him. Her Grace was standing a distance away, pale, delicate hands folded as she watched him. He had requested to be taken into his mind, but it made him tense. This was a place of discipline, not discussion. Still, he thought his request belonged here. He cleared his throat nervously. 

"Speak up, dear. Every moment you spend dallying is another opportunity for a monster outside." 

"I have a request," Link said. 

"Yes?" Hylia asked, an impatient whine in her tone. "How stupid is it? You don't often come in here to ask for favors."

"It sounds stupid, but I think it would be fruitful." 

Hylia sighed. "Of course." 

"I think I should continue to follow the girl." His voice echoed through the empty space. The few seconds of silence as he waited for her felt endless. Her face bored into him; he stared at her like he was watching a fire. 

" Absolutely not." 

The world around Link began to close in on itself, and he felt the night wind brush against his face. The fog from beyond the many bone-white pillars, then dancing at the corners of his vision, now skirted his feet. Half-unconsciousness was no novelty to him, but not like this. His mind, the cup— half empty, air filling the other half as he fell to his knees with a pitiful, pessimistic thud. She was leaving, he couldn't stop it, but he had to try.

 "I have a good reason, the girl can't teleport— not like the others, the traitors are cowards, but—"  Link swallowed. He felt two throats move, one phantom, one real. "I can follow her to their hideout. They must have moved, I think they moved."

"Because you were stupid," Hylia replied. "Suffer for your mistake. It's only fair."

"She is my only lead, if I don't follow her I would have to look for clues around the destroyed one or capture a footsoldier, this would be far less dangerous, it would take less time." 

"And what do you plan to do with all that extra time? Dawdle more?" 

"I will rescue the vessel as soon as I have the slate," Link said mechanically.

"You've said that before. Stop toying with me." 

"I asked you to put me here because I wanted to see you face to face. I want to be sincere, Your Grace. If I was lying about anything I would not have requested to meet here." 

Hylia's head tilted to one side, though it was difficult to see under the light. The fog receded, and he felt the cool, motionless fake air in his mind again. Assured of her interest, Link stood up.

"I still have no guarantee of your sincerity, and considering what a liar you are, I don't want to agree without consequences for you if you don't hold up your part of the bargain. So—" Hylia brushed off her skirts— "If you don't rescue the vessel after you're done following the girl, then I will keep you here for as many days as you waste going after her." 

"This is fair," Link said. "I am glad you are willing to put your faith in me." 

She laughed gently. "What sort of goddess would I be if I did not trust my hero?" Her sweet voice felt like the sun's warmth in springtime when she was happy. Link relaxed in her radiance for a moment, but shivers ran down his spine. 

The next morning, Link shoved more silent princesses into his mouth and began stalking Rhondson and Travy. They woke up early, had a brief breakfast —Link could see the smoke from their campfire— and went along the main road, same as before. He couldn't hear what they said to each other, but every once in a while one of them would laugh, or they'd begin to sing a traveling song. 

Link kept his focus on the road, and when Hylia was there, stories that she told. She repeated tales from eons ago, of heroes and monsters and self-sacrificial maidens, like fresh gossip or incredible new headlines, eagerness unmatched by those who the legends were passed down to. It was more comforting to hear the tales from her compared to some old biddy or bard— he could feel his spirit leap as she described the ancient hero from an age ago dealing the final blow to the Great Calamity, vessel at his side. 

Two evenings passed. Link fell into an identical rhythm to Rhondson and Travy, beginning the day with a light breakfast and starting down the road, resting when the sun was high, then walking until dusk fell. When he foraged for food, he kept an eye out, careful to stay out of their way for fear of them catching a glimpse of him. If they entered a clear patch of land or crossed a bridge, he'd slow down, and catch up when there was enough cover. Gods knew what would happen if he was caught. During the night, he stayed just out of reach of their campfire's glow, in the shadows of bushes and trees. It was cold, and he often felt his stomach ache for lack of food, but he had no choice. Travy's tip for snoring had worked, though he had asked Hylia to tell him if he snored, just in case. They were spotted by monster camps three times. All three were bokoblin camps, and strong ones. After Rhondson killed anything that was an immediate threat they ran, and Link would too, though he did pick off a monster that was following them. 

As they reached the cliffs near the Coliseum Ruins, Link slowed down and let Rhondson and Travy slip out of sight. There wouldn't be anywhere to hide or run if they looked back, and places up ahead could give him information. Tucked into a little crevice in the land, Outskirt Stable had been left untouched by recent monster and Guardian attacks as far as Link was aware.

He reached a split in the road: one that led north, towards Tabantha and Hebra, and the other towards the Gerudo region. Instead of the old oak that he expected, a tall wooden tower was in its place, with a Hylian man seated on top. He observed Link through bulky-looking binoculars, then waved at him. "Hey, traveler!" 

Link waved back. "Have you seen a Gerudo and a Hylian girl pass by?" 

The man removed the binoculars from his face. "About five minutes ago, I think. They went to the stable." He pointed towards a large gate positioned between two cliff walls, made of wooden stakes and with a set of double doors. 

"Ah." Should he risk it, he wondered. He could move ahead, past the suspension bridge and into the foothills of the Gerudo Highlands, and wait for them there. Her Grace would likely prefer that. 

"Are you their friend?" the man asked, squinting at Link through his glasses. 

Link's mouth twitched. "Yes," he lied– to save face, he supposed. He took a step sideways towards the gate. 

"Better go meet them instead of hanging out here." 

"Good idea," Link said, jogging over to the gate to avoid any more confrontation. Hylia would know what to do here, or she would at least tell him to stop. Where was she? He was half-tempted to wait for her, until he realized that the lookout man might notice him talking. Watching the lookout through the corner of his eye, he knocked on the gate. 

"You again?" A young woman opened a small hatch in the right door. 

Link stared at her in bewilderment. 

She sighed. "Never mind. Like the new gate, Mr. Hero?" 

"It is nice." 

The door opened, and Link slipped inside, giving the sullen young woman a nod before walking towards the stable. Besides the scattered tents and lean-tos, it looked the same as it always had. Several residents were standing around a cooking pot, talking to one another in low voices after they saw him approaching the stable. Little red embers floated above the pot, fizzling out into bits of smoke and ash. None of the people looked familiar. Rhondson and Travy had likely gone inside. At least that bought him a little time to hide, or think about how he would act around the people he had been stalking for three full days. An alibi would not be difficult, considering their location, but he didn't want to talk to Rhondson. Perhaps Travy wouldn't have convinced her that Yiga doctrine was true, but she would at least make him look like a villain. Rolling his head over to a gaggle of lean-tos, he ambled over to hide in between their ranks. One of the fellows near the dying fire bored holes into him with his eyes. 

"It had so many pockets ," a voice that sounded suspiciously like Travy said. Link poked his head over a lean-to and glimpsed her walking out of the stable with Rhondson. He had hidden himself just in time. 

"No more than a regular traveler's pack," Rhondson replied. "He was overcharging. That stitch he had on the side must have been from a tear, and it looked like it was loose." 

A pack for sale? Link looked down at his tiny satchels that he had been using for the past week to fit all of his supplies. He could use more carrying space…

"Then I can fix it."

"You're no good at sewing anything but a running stitch." 

"Then my uncle can fix it."

"I can find you a better pack when we get to Gerudo Town," Rhondson said. "They have lovely ones there, with even more pockets." 

Travy sighed. "I like it." 

"It's my money, and I don't." 

Link held back a snort. The brat was leeching off of Rhondson now? He almost pitied her, but she had taken the Yiga's word over his. His time gawking over the two was cut short as they strolled closer to the tents, Travy sitting on a fallen log and Rhondson leaning up against a tree. Link backed up a few paces and ducked into a tent. It smelled oddly musty as he pulled the tent flap closed. 

"It could be a souvenir," Travy said. 

"I don't see why you're so set on getting that ratty thing. It's like you've never seen a backpack before."

Travy went silent. Link shifted around in his seat on a pile of blankets, and leaned in. 

"I worry about you sometimes," Rhondson said. 

"You don't need to!" Travy insisted. "It's– I dunno. I don't want it that badly." 

Good. He wanted it. Puffing out his chest in determination he slunk out of the tent on all fours. Travy and Rhondson's line of sight on the left side would be obscured by the tents, so he walked a little further left, then darted into the nearest stable entrance. Hopefully they didn't notice. 

The stable's interior was, unsurprisingly, filled with Hylian travelers. The stable owner was at his station, speaking to two men across the counter in a low voice as they huddled together. A young girl was on a stool near one of the beds, idly kicking her feet. Off in one corner, a ratty-looking fellow talked to a smartly dressed traveler. She was brushing her sleeves off despite being a foot away from his dust, at least. 

"I could throw in, uh–" the ratty-looking one dug through a pack he had. "I would throw in more if I had more. But I can't go lower than two hundred, sorry." 

"I'm really sorry, but I'd almost rather–" the woman began, before Link rushed past her. 

"How much?" He glared at the ratty man, reaching back to grab the hilt of his sword. It wasn't really a question. 

The man shrank, holding his precious pack in his arms. "D–Do I know you?" 

"Why?" 

"I could give a– a discount to the lady. If I knew you. And– I think I've seen you around?" 

The woman stepped back, glancing between Link and the man in confusion before walking away. 

"No, I want it." 

The man raised his eyebrows, and stopped hugging the bag. "I'm hesitant to part with it, but monsters are about. You don't need to hear my sob story. I need money for expenses, it's too dangerous out there now to be traveling." 

"How much?" 

"Hundred." 

Link dug through one of his pouches, then deposited two purple rupees in the man's hand. He gave Link the bag, and Link immediately put it on, fiddling with its straps before finding a comfortable position for it to hang off his back. From what he could remember, he had never used a backpack before. Testing out his range of motion, he rolled his shoulders back, then pulled out his sword, twirling its handle around in his fingers without activating the blade before putting it back. It felt strange, but it wasn't bad. "Thank you," he said, turning away from the man. 

The second he faced in the opposite direction, he found himself inches from Rhondson. His face went white, and he stared directly into her eyes before grimacing, and looking at his boots. 

"I knew it was you," Rhondson said cooly. "How are you doing?" 

"Fine," Link replied. "And you?" 

"Pretty alright." Rhondson frowned, and turned her head to one side, like a curious hawk. "I guess I shouldn't ask you if you've seen Travy." 

Link shook his head. "You shouldn't, because I have not." 

"She was just here, I swear…I thought she might have gone inside to look at the– did you buy that?" She pointed to his new backpack. 

Link nodded. 

"Are you sure you haven't seen her?" 

"Yes," Link said slowly. 

Don't tell me this was all some trick to find her again and talk to her while I wasn't looking. I thought you said you would RESIST the temptation!

Link let out a very unmanly squeak, and flushed pink in embarrassment. "I will go and find her, perhaps—she will like the pack, I will find her and I will give it to her, as an apology present," he said, stepping back. 

"Is something wrong?" Rhondson asked. 

 "Doesn't any of this make you uncomfortable?" 

"...Why."

"Talking to me, and—you– and Hudson." 

WHORE! MY POOR VESSEL WILL HAVE TO KEEP SPIES ON YOU TO KEEP YOU FAITHFUL. I SHOULD PUT YOU IN YOUR MIND RIGHT NOW AND SLAP YOU.

"Not here, there's too many people!" Link shouted, running out of the stable. He sprinted as far as he could, down the road to Tabantha. Her Grace continued screaming at him while he ran, but his mind was racing as fast as his legs, turning her words into a blur. When he ran out of breath, he flopped down under the shade of a tree, mopping sweat from his brow. 

I want a full explanation for this, you disgusting muttoner. 

"You can slap me now."

It's 'may.' 

"May slap me." 

You're not going to defend yourself? How pathetic.

"I think it is right, as a man of honor, for my lady to slap me if she were to catch me in an act of infidelity," Link lied. "Get it over with."

Some man of honor, Hylia sniffed. Now I feel guilty about it.

"I apologize." 

Stop talking.

Link fell silent, and took in his surroundings. Beyond him, past Satori Mountain, he could see the tall, boundless slopes of Hebra and Tabantha spanning out. The trees rattled with the rush of a cold wind through their leaves, and when it quieted, he heard footsteps along the road. They were hurried, but not swift– a young child's light stomps, almost. Sucking in a breath, he sprinted a little further forwards, up a small hill and onto a long patch of flat land just before the foothills. Travy, pattering her way along the road without a care in the world, was several hundred paces ahead of him. 

He began to follow her, wary of how visible he was to her, but not cautious enough to stop. She didn't notice. The mountains came closer, looming over them like blue and grey gods, white veils of snow adorning their bowed heads. Outskirt Stable was long gone now, and the Yiga hadn't turned back. He assumed she wasn't going to. When darkness fell and the girl stopped to make a fire, Link returned to his usual routine, keeping close but out of sight. His new bag had proved useful for foraging, so when Travy fell asleep, he dozed off with a full stomach, using the pack as a pillow. The traveler he had gotten it from had failed to mention the small bedroll still attached to it, which he also took full advantage of. 

As the Yiga girl neared Serenne Stable, a chill wind blew in from the east. If she kept going down this road, they would be entering the mountains soon. It was early summer, so the mountains wouldn't be at their coldest, but Link wandered off the road to collect hot peppers from bushes along the path, planted there years ago by other travelers. Travy didn't pick any. More for him, he guessed, though he wondered why. She passed through the stable without stopping, then, just outside of it, sat down on the grass. Observing her from the trees, Link turned away, deciding to cook the hot peppers he had found. He dumped them out of his trusty new pack into the communal cooking pot every stable kept as an amenity, and waited for Travy to start moving again. He didn't know where they were headed, but he would be prepared for it. 

Days passed. Travy reached the mountains, then trekked through Tabantha Snowfield; ironically, it was covered in short grass, ground hardened by permafrost. Every so often, Link would feel a rush of cold through his body, and stuff another steamed hot pepper in his mouth. Travy didn't seem to need protective clothing or warm food. She would sometimes pause her trek, and take a long, deep breath as red flecks of magic circled around her. Then she would keep going until she needed to eat or rest. Link supposed this was some Yiga trick for dealing with the cold, which made the wind against his back bite harder as he watched her jealously. 

Travy had made her way deeper into the Hebra region, weaving through ravines and climbing mountain trails on stumbling feet. He grew impatient. Even the slightest scrap of information would do– anything that could give him an edge, just enough to prove to Hylia that he wasn't leading them on a wild goose chase. Snow reached up to Link's toes at first, then to his knees, not counting snowdrifts. The further they went, the more frigid it became. Hot peppers could only do so much. His hands were stiff and blue, and he could swear his toes were completely frozen in his boots. 

One bright and cold morning, Link woke up shivering. He had lost track of the days, but he thought he could ask Hylia when it all ended. It felt stupid. Looking back at the white path behind him for the thousandth time, he wondered if it was worth it to keep following the girl. Maybe this was some sort of trap: wearing him out so he couldn't fight properly and then killing him. 

She's up ahead, you know.

Link felt a pit form in his stomach, then began striding forward with renewed strength. Even if it was a trap, he would survive. They couldn't kill him, and this would not be for nothing– he was the chosen hero, and his quest was incomplete. Fate was on his side. He shouldn't bother thinking of ways to fight back if it was a trap, or what warning signs to look for. It was a waste of time.

Around noon Travy stopped to rest, finding a clear patch underneath a cluster of pine trees and nibbling on some rations. Link left her alone as he foraged for something to add to his bland jerky and roasted hot peppers that he had eaten since they entered the mountains. He took no pleasure from his meal. It was the first time in his remembered life that having food in his belly hadn't lifted his spirits, not even a little. When he was finished he stared listlessly off into the white expanse beyond him, waiting. 

After a few minutes the Yiga girl began trudging through the snow again. Link stalked behind her. Meandering up yet another summit, Travy began walking down a long, gentle slope towards a set of cliffs in the distance. This was a welcome change for Link's aching legs. Though he ran every day and kept fit by training and fighting monsters, days of hiking uphill in the snow were exhausting, even though he and Travy stopped fairly often. The girl must have been some freak of nature, to keep up such a good pace at her age. On their way down, Travy plucked berries from scattered bushes in the snow, and moseyed around, looking for animal tracks, unconcerned with how far they were from civilization or warmth. 

She made it to the bottom of the slope. Travy slowed her brisk walk to a crawl, picking at the sleeve of her oversized coat and glancing around. Her ears twitched, and she looked up at the cliffs above. Link slipped behind a rock just in case– then saw Kishu appear from around a bend. Her red uniform stood out like a shock against the snow. The Yiga leader was tense. 

Travy's chest puffed out. "Kishu–"

"You said you were going hunting, and you disappeared for two weeks . What are you wearing?"

"A disguise," Travy said.

"A pathetic excuse for one." 

"I can't exactly go around with a mask on, can I?" Travy said. "What else did you expect?" 

"Who permitted you to leave the compound?" Kishu demanded. 

"Why would I tell you when you're mad ," Travy said. 

"Don't talk to me like that," Kishu snapped. "You will tell me, or—"

Travy crossed her arms. 

Kishu sighed, and leaned back. "Moya, I'm worried. I don't want you to get hurt, and no one knew where you were…"

"I'm fine. I even got really close to killing the Champion," Travy— or rather, Moya— replied. 

"How—" Kishu balled her fists, looking Moya up and down before grabbing her wrist and dragging her back towards where the larger Yiga had come from. "Don't ever do something so reckless again."

"You moron! I could have done it, you just think I'm weak!" Moya tried to pull her arm away. "Let me go!"

Assuming the two were distracted enough for him to take a closer look, Link began creeping back to his earlier position. When the snow was heavy he had grown accustomed to retreading Moya's steps, but he was willing to risk making his own set of prints since he doubted either of the Yiga would notice. The thick snow crunched uncomfortably underneath his feet, making him grimace, but Kishu was too busy yanking Moya away to care. 

"You never take me seriously!" Moya said. "Mom would have—"

"Don't you dare talk about her," Kishu growled. "She would never let you run away!" 

"Maybe I wouldn't have had to!" In a lunge, Moya separated her hand from Kishu's, and the force of her own pull made her pitch forward and fall into the snow. She disappeared for a moment in the whiteness and, spluttering angrily, resurfaced facing Link.

Link froze as she met his gaze with hateful red eyes. She didn't say anything; she didn't even cry out. The pause was enough for Kishu to re-collect Moya, but she didn't struggle, limply letting the larger Yiga pull her away. 

"You'd best not get into any more trouble after this," Kishu said. "Calamity knows what will happen to you." 

They slipped around the same corner Kishu had appeared from earlier. Link took a deep breath, sucking cold air into his stinging nostrils, and let it out. As the steam left and faded into the air, he contemplated his next move. The fact they hadn't teleported away immediately and Kishu seemed taken by surprise led him to a few theories that he wanted to test. 

It took a minute or two, but Hylia soon reappeared. Where did the girl go? Did you lose–

Link shook his head. "Your Grace, I have a request to make." 

At least tell me what happened. 

"I may have found a secret Yiga camp," Link stated. "I would like it if you could go ahead of me and see if there is anything of note." 

Oh. I suppose so. 

When Hylia left Link strode forward, following Kishu and Moya's footprints in the snow. The larger prints barely left an impression on it, while Moya's dug into the snow, scrabbling around as she struggled against Kishu's steady footing. 

My! It's hard to believe what I just saw, Hylia said. It seems they've made their nest in a little cave.

"How many of them are there?" Link asked. 

Give me a moment. I don't know, but I saw many of them. I suspect most of their clan is here.  

"Thank you," Link said. 

I'm glad I encouraged you to go after the girl. Who knows how lost you would have been if not for that. 

"Yes, thank you." 

Don't express gratitude more than once; it makes you look desperate and foolish. 

"Apologies."

Hmph. Anyhow, would you like me to look further into the cavern? 

"Yes, please."

You seem very tired. I hope you find your little toy soon, so you can remove yourself from this place. 

"It would not be safe to stay at home," Link mumbled. 

Then you must rescue the vessel speedily.

"As was promised," he replied.

Wonderful. 

I saw the slate, Hylia said about half an hour later. Link had moved to the nearby hot spring, staying close to the steam in an attempt to warm himself. I will guide you towards it. 

He stepped away from the hot spring, feeling the cold leech away the warmth from his body. 

Do you see that crack in the cliff wall? It's wider than it appears. Slip through it.

Link turned towards one of the nearby cliff faces, and started walking towards it. 

No! Not that one, idiot! The other way.

He turned around very slowly, saw what Hylia was referring to, and trudged towards it. The crack was a handbreadth at the very widest, but when he put out that hand to touch its sides his fingers ran through it like mist. 

Why would you think it was that other cliff? Now go through. You should have easy passage until you reach the end of this hall. 

Wary of the edges of the crack still, Link sidestepped through the illusion, and found himself in near darkness. The dim orange light of the torchlit cave around him made him wince and rub his eyes. When they adjusted, he stared at the cave's walls. They were plastered with pictures and scrawls of the turned eye— dry paint ran down their illustrations like fresh blood. Stone frogs guarded the entrance to a tunnel ahead of him, worn and stalwart, each with a cloth mask designating them as Yiga things. He had seen it all before. Link stepped forward, making no noise as he entered the tunnel. He placed his hand on the rusty red stone and began to walk. Marginally more intelligent things were attached to the walls now: insane poems praising their old, dead leader, rants about bananas, promises to exterminate the monarchy and all its allies, posters repeating their dogmas. It took all of Link's willpower not to snort. 

Someone's coming. There is an empty room ahead— to your right, let's be clear about that. I wouldn't want you to ram your head into a wall. Hide there.

Link's head pivoted towards the right wall as he heard soft murmurs beyond him. A small incline suggested an opening several lengths ahead, so he quickened his pace and stepped inside. The room had no light, just an empty sconce. If he squinted, he could see books lined up on a bookshelf carved into the stone, and a low table on the floor set for tea. He sucked in a breath. What was this place for?

"Rest assured, Mar will complete her training with flying colors," one of the passing Yiga said. "Keep drilling her. I've worked with some of the archers you've trained, and they're nothing to sniff at."

"Not with her attitude, she won't," the other Yiga grunted. "Does she respect you? If she doesn't, you ought to teach her how. At this rate Piers's runt is going to catch up to her, and she just ran off." 

"I would hope she would respect me," the first Yiga replied incredulously. 

"She's your oldest, right?"

"She is." 

"It takes more work with them. Have a conversation or two, I guess. Let her know she's being shortsighted." 

Their voices faded. Link steeled himself and darted back into the hall like a prey animal. It was empty again. Trusting that Hylia would tell him where to hide, he strode forward. The propaganda trail snaked across the walls, but he trained his eyes on the ground. He still caught snippets of it. Its insanity helped him put the conversations he had heard from the clan members over the past few hours into perspective. "Freedom!" the posters said. "Freedom to choose our own god, when the others have betrayed us!" 

What nonsense. To think one could choose, and not be chosen? What arrogance! Backwards, traitors, vermin, sucking the life from the sacred earth. They would only cause more trouble if he didn't find a way to get rid of them. Blind to the chain that bound them, the evil god that chose them for dark purposes, they could never be redeemed. 

Link! Aren't you paying any attention?

He startled, and came to his senses. 

I see more of them. There's an outcropping to hide behind just ahead of you. 

Shadows bent around a corner. Link found the outcropping and clung to it, holding his breath as the shadows passed and revealed three unmasked warriors. Two of them looked about his age, maybe a little younger, wearing identical tunics that didn't resemble the uniform he usually saw at all. The other was older and bulkier— a blademaster, he presumed. They were facing away from him, so it was hard to confirm anything. Their conversation had been stalled by the fits of laughter they were having over something the blademaster had said. The phrase was indecipherable, as every time they tried to repeat it they cracked up again. 

Cackling like madmen, Hylia said, and Link nodded along. We're coming to a central room. There are several traitors there, but it is rather dark. Stay in the corners. Move left, then enter the first tunnel on that side. 

Link ducked over to the left corner of the room as instructed. A few of the Yiga there were masked, but the discomfort he felt from seeing them next to the unmasked ones— comparing their unnatural limbs and height to what he was so familiar with— never went away. They had bony arms and long fingers, necks that craned forward, and dark red circles under their eyes, but their faces were human. Hunched around a small fire pit (Hylia knew what they employed to keep the place from filling with smoke) they shared a meal, paying no attention to the shadow of an intruder making his way step by step towards another tunnel. 

Just a bit further! I shall tell you when we have reached the doorway.

This tunnel was darker and smaller– two of him could stand abreast here, instead of the previous three. Light from inside the many corridors leading into the tunnel still illuminated it enough that he could easily see. Their tall oval entrances made it truly look like the work of rodents. Or ants, maybe. It was so cold here; would they ever have ants? It didn't matter much, he thought. He would be free to leave this place soon. To his right, he saw a strangely dark corridor, and wondered if Hylia would guide him to enter it. 

There. The tunnel to the right. It is a storage room of some sort, so you will have to pull open one of the smaller boxes. 

Link afforded himself a contented smile as he slipped into the dark room. Various boxes filled it, some large, some small, some filled with banana peels. He spotted a small box on top of a larger one painted with a turned eye. If he had time, he could turn it upside down for fun. His smile broadened as he half-ran, half-jogged further in. Now that he had spent so much time without the slate, he would never take it for granted again. He would never have to deal with these thieving Yiga again, and he'd never have to see their stupid faces–

Something squelched as his foot lodged itself into a small open box on the floor. Link pitched forward, flinging banana peels onto the ground as he tried to regain his footing. They did not cushion his fall. 

"The Champion himself?" There was a loud click behind him, and the sound of footsteps. Link began to push himself up, but the buzz of an ancient Sheikah blade at the base of his neck made him pause. 

You ran in!?! What were you thinking! You're the chosen hero; why do I have to tell you to do something as simple as not rushing into a strange area!? What are you going to do now? 

"Trying to steal the relic, I see," Kishu said calmly. "Someone told me you were here, bumbling your way through our home. How stupid. Did you really think no one would notice?"

Her again! Does she have anything better to do?!? She's going to kill you here, and then what will happen! Everything will be ruined! You need to get it, I don't care what you do–

Link heard Kishu mumble unintelligibly, and the sound of more footsteps. He pulled back, but someone grabbed his hands and tied them together, then blindfolded him. One of the Yiga cronies picked him up by the collar and forced him onto his feet. 

Wait, what? What are they planning? Are they going to torture you? Why can't these monsters have any sort of mercy!

"You look even more miserable than when I last saw you," Kishu said sweetly. "Don't you have anything to say?" 

Link sniffed.

Something –he guessed Kishu's knee– slammed into his abdomen. He doubled over.

 "I'll deal with him later. Search him." 

More footsteps, and one of the other Yiga rummaging through his pouches, tearing off his backpack.

"Probably wouldn't matter if I cut off a finger or two," one said. 

His companion snorted. "What are you gonna do, eat it?" 

"What!? No? Why?"

"What would you do with a Champion finger?" 

"Same thing I'd do with a Champion body! Burn it! Wouldn't do any harm to the bastard if he was missing a few digits. It's like hamstringing someone." 

"You can still work fine without a few fingers. I knew a guy—"

"WOULD YOU TWO DO AS I ASK!" Kishu shouted from somewhere in the distance. 

The two Yiga grumbled and began searching Link again. 

"She's so serious," one Yiga said. "It's irritating. As the Annals of Kohga say— passage sixty line seventeen— approach all things with levity." 

"You're not in charge, though." 

"I know, moron ." 

After the Yiga jostled him a few more times, presumably to take his weapons, they pushed him forward, and they began a walk towards who-knows-where. If he was going to die, he decided he would die with as much dignity as he could, so he kept his chin up and tried not to slouch. He heard the soldiers mocking him and felt them spitting in his face as he passed. Still, he kept his head high. 

"That's for Master Kohga!" 

Of course.

"The souls of those you murdered will torment you when you die!" 

Link smiled grimly. His soul would reincarnate into the body of a righteous Hylian man, and he would carry out the kingdom's work. Of course, they didn't believe in such things. Maybe they would when they saw the Master Sword wielded by new hands. 

They are leading you to a cell. I don't know why…

Hylia didn't really need to tell him, as his guards removed the blindfold from his face just then. He only caught a brief glimpse of the cell's exterior before a Yiga shoved him in. Though he stumbled, he managed to keep his balance. The door to the cell snapped shut with a resounding clack and the jingle of keys. 

"Give me your hands," one of the guards said. Remembering the conversation from earlier, Link stepped away. 

"Don't want the use of your hands? Suit yourself."

"No, don't let him push you around like that," the other one said, grabbing Link and untying his hands. He whipped around to glare at his captors, grabbing the bars of his cage. They must have been twice his size, and their silhouettes illuminated by light from the doorway only made them seem larger– masked, as they should have been. "There. Now let's go. Leader Kishu will handle him." 

They left, shutting a heavy door behind them and abandoning him to the dark.

(A/N 2025: A picture I posted to Tumblr with a link to this chapter!)

Chapter Text

Link always thought it was mid-morning, with the faint birdsong around him and the shadows barely visible in the trees, but his past self had been too concerned with the ceremony for him to recall the time. He was kneeling on stone while the vessel spoke. She was holding a ceremonial sword on his shoulder. 

"Two souls, separated by time and death, now come together once again," she began. "the soul of the eternal hero, never cowering or faltering, and the soul of the goddess, bright and pure. Age after age, we rise to defeat the evils of our time. Age after age, Hyrule's fate has rested upon your shoulders. I bless you, my knight, with the tenacity of the Hero of the Sky, the pure heart of the Hero of Time, and the proud spirit of the Hero of Twilight." 

Link heard the whispers of the Champions kneeling behind him. "This ceremony is dull. We Rito know better than to spend time on such a thing, when our quest is so urgent." Revali, of course, whispering to no one in particular. 

"And we Gerudo, though once enemies of this kingdom, still kneel in respect to Hylian customs," Urbosa replied. "As I see it, they are worthy of our time. It brings me great joy to see the hero formally reunited with his fate, as we all bask in the glory of Hylia's vessel." 

"Though my devotion to her is strong, I still remain impatient," Revali said. "I fear that this hero might not have the courage Her Grace desires."

Link felt the dull sword press firmly against his shoulder. Without moving, he returned his focus to the vessel. Ever since she was a small girl, Princess Zelda, the Vessel of Hylia, had prayed dutifully and faithfully, waiting for the goddess to awaken in her so she might gain her powers and obtain her true identity. Though she did not have the power yet, the radiance bursting forth from her was apparent. The people saw her as an angel; those close to her, something to worship. And she was worthy of worship. 

As the ceremony ended, the vessel moved the sword from his right shoulder to his left. "Rise, Link, Champion of Hyrule." 

Link stood up. The light radiating from her face was bright, but for some reason it didn't hurt his eyes. 

"Do you promise to be unselfish, courteous, and true, my knight?" the vessel asked. 

His voice was so quiet back then. "I do."

"Do you promise to protect the kingdom with your life, if necessary?" 

"I do."

"And, most importantly," the vessel said, "do you promise to love and serve me?"

"I do."

The rice was getting cold. When one of the guards had slid it into his cell, it was steaming, and reeked of bananas, but Link was sure it had been more than an hour now. He sat across from it, putting as much space as he could between him and the bowl while he stared at it. His stomach ached, his eyes never left the soft, fluffy white grains, his fingers twitched as he gripped the sides of his tunic, the pressure reminding him not to lunge towards the meal. It was poisoned. It had to be. The sickening smell of bananas tainted it and he knew that his captors would like nothing more than for him to eat the rice and die an agonizing death. Once in a while, as he stared at the rice, he pictured himself writhing in pain and dropping the empty bowl onto the floor as he went still. 

Perhaps this was part of their plan, too. If they couldn't poison him, they could torture him. The cell was cleaner than he expected—clean deaths from the poisoned rice, or of hunger, he thought. He wasn't bound, and there were no chains or any way to fasten him to the wall. It was maddening: good food just out of his reach that he could never touch. What vile, wasteful people the Yiga were, to poison such a delicious dish!

"What good do you think a hunger strike will do you?" Kishu's voice echoed from the entrance to his prison. "Do you enjoy making your death more unpleasant?"

Link's attention snapped over to the silhouette in the doorway. He could feel the sneer behind her mask. "Why don't you eat it?" 

"It's cold." Kishu strode towards the cell and kicked the bowl of rice through the bars. It flew into the wall, and its contents were flung everywhere. A few grains attached themselves to Link's face, and he scrambled to wipe them off. 

"Fool." Kishu laughed. Preoccupied with getting sticky rice off of himself, Link didn't notice Kishu's hand shoot out until she grabbed him by the collar. She slammed his face into the bars, then brought him up to eye level. "I've come to make a deal with you." 

Link grunted. 

"I would love to disembowel you right now, hero. I could slice my sword right into your belly and let your guts spill out," Kishu sneered. "But I want something from you."

He studied her mask in confusion for a split second before frowning. 

"The device you used to carry. We have long forgotten the skills required to use our birthright. You will tell our technician how to use it."

"Or what?" 

"It's certainly a shame that Hylian villages do not have the protections of Kakariko," Kishu replied. "I think the heads of a few villagers would convince you to talk."

"I would like to see you try."

"You're awfully willing to put them in danger for just a little information."

"Hyrule's safety is more important than the lives of some villagers," Link said quietly.

"The safety of Hyrule is more important than the people who live in it ?" Kishu spat. "Hyrule is dead. Why bow to its corpse?" 

"It still lingers. You know this, and it's why you're trying to kill it."

"I always forget you're more dog than man," Kishu said. "Whining and scratching at your master's door for approval. Under the Turned Eye we serve someone who defends us, not something that needs to be defended."

"It's too bad he's dead." 

Kishu snorted, and dropped him. "The body was never found." 

"If he was alive, your precious Kohga has abandoned you," Link spat. 

"Quiet," Kishu commanded. "I will order the technician to come here. If you do not cooperate, consider Hateno lost." She tossed her long, black ponytail, and slammed the outside door shut behind her. 

Link?  

Link shuddered. 

My dearest hero, are you cold?  

"No, Your Grace." 

I would like to speak to you without worrying about being overheard. 

Link opened his mouth to whisper an agreement, but his head pitched forward as he felt a flash of light in his eyes. 

"Yes, we should—" the empty halls in his mind made his words echo. "Ah." 

"Good, you're here," Hylia said. She was sitting on the ground, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in her dress. "I heard your conversation with the traitor. You did well."

Link bowed his head. "Thank you." 

"Ugh, you're so solemn today. Do you think this is the end? I've come to discuss escape plans with you; why can't you show any enthusiasm." 

"You are?" He really couldn't bring himself to care. 

"I've been with you all your life and you think I would abandon you to some traitors. How little you think of me! Now, cheer up—and keep your back straight, you're slouching." 

Link adjusted his posture, and waited for Hylia to speak. 

"I have scouted the tunnels again to see where you are. It's deeper into the mountains than I anticipated, but with my guidance I know you will escape. Don't you have that ability to create lightning? Once someone with the keys to your cell comes close you could paralyze them with it, and slip out." 

"Are you sure that is wise?" 

Hylia groaned. " What do you not like about it." 

"No, it's— I like it, it is simple and, ah. I don't think—"

"I told you that there's nothing to worry about, and you're still acting like everything is lost. Consider it for just a moment, won't you?!" 

"I am considering it," Link said. "They would recapture me too easily, they—" 

"You don't trust me." 

"May we at least consider making it better?" 

"You've become so stubborn over the past few weeks. I don't know why you're behaving this way, but it must stop." 

"I'm trying to make a compromise!" Link snapped. "I don't like it!"

"Where is your faith!" Hylia said, her voice wavering. "You used to love me! You told me you would follow me wherever I went!" She paused, taking a deep breath, clutching the sides of her dress. 

"I do have faith in you," Link said as calmly as he could. "But—"

"No, you don't. Every day I wonder why his spirit found itself in a cowardly little body like yours."

Link opened his mouth to speak, but found himself in his cell again. He was glad, at least, that she had let him out of his mind. That usually meant she was more unsure of herself than she appeared, and didn't want to punish him. When she came back, she'd be open to negotiate.  Sitting up, he wiped a stray piece of rice off his face, sticking it in his mouth to get food into his system. It just made him hungrier. 

A surprisingly short Yiga slipped in. Link narrowed his eyes at the new arrival. 

"I'm the technician." She sounded like Moya. "Don't try anything. I won't hesitate to kill you."

"What about the truce?" Link said. 

"The truce ended when you— you stalked me here, didn't you?" Moya pointed a finger at him. "You were trying to murder more of us, and you thought you could use me to do it. You're disgusting." 

"I wanted my slate back. Hardly murder."

"Too bad. It's ours now," Moya stated. In a quick motion, she drew something out of a satchel attached to her hip, and took a step away from his cell. Faint lines of orange energy flowed into a singular circle near the object's center, then illuminated a Sheikah eye. The slate. It took all of Link's strength to not lunge for the precious device.

"Where'd you even get this thing, anyway?" Moya shook the slate, then started pressing buttons on its sides. They didn't do anything, as far as he could tell. "Kakariko?" 

"It was given to me when I awakened." 

"Oh, right, you're a freak. I keep forgetting. Anyway, I can't figure out how to make it freeze people. You should tell me how to do that." Moya paused, and fidgeted in place. "Or I'll take out your fingernails, one by one. Until your, uh, screams can be heard all throughout camp." 

Link, not impressed by her bluff, decided to approach the conversation with intelligence. Maybe he could tell her enough information to save the villagers' lives while concealing anything dangerous. "There are other things you should learn before that. How to get it to show anything besides one screen, perhaps." 

"I'm not stupid," Moya snapped. 

Of course. She was Yiga, but still a child. "Okay. Figure that out first."

Moya grumbled unintelligibly and held down one of the buttons. 

Link sniffled, and propped his head up with one hand as he watched. "Some technician." 

"Shut up! This is hard!" 

"No it isn't."

"Do you like pissing people off?" 

"Anger makes one reckless, giving one with a calm mind an advantage. Any good warrior knows this."

"I think you like it." 

"I would never enjoy making someone angry." 

"You and your stupid goody-goody hero act," Moya growled. "Okay, fine, how do you get it to work." 

"Tap the arrows on the side of the screen," Link said, making a tapping motion with his hand. "Very easy."

Moya imitated him. "You're so annoying and petty— oh." She tilted her head, and tapped again. "What are these?" She flipped the slate around, showing Link the first page of the Hyrule Compendium. 

"Images." He paused. This also seemed fairly harmless… "Of useful things around Hyrule." 

"How—" Moya paused. "How do they look so real? Is this some kind of trick?" 

"They are real. Press your finger down on one." 

She turned the slate back to her, and cautiously brought her finger down onto the screen. As soon as she saw something change, she jerked it away, then brought it back, touching the screen again after examining it. "What is that," she said in awe. 

"Read." 

"I'm reading !" Moya snapped. "How many animals do you have on here," she asked, her voice low. 

"Around one hundred. I don't remember. It doesn't recognize all animals." 

"How do you find Satori?" Moya flipped the screen around to show Link the compendium entry for the spirit. "What is it?"

Link frowned. "Satori is a very sacred being."

"Why are you riding it in the picture, then? That doesn't seem like a great thing to do to a sacred being."

"When I was younger I had a poor concept of what was sacred." 

"It looks like fun." Moya snorted. "Maybe you forgot how to have it." 

"No, I didn't." 

Moya went silent again, as if she hadn't expected him to answer. She turned the screen back around and began scrolling through compendium entries again. "You're kind of like Kishu, except evil."

"What?"

"Nevermind. I was thinking out loud." 

For a few minutes, both of them went silent: Moya reading through compendium entries, Link staring at a wall while trying to ignore his gnawing stomach and growing annoyance with his situation. What an annoying little brat she was, trying to jab at him while he was giving her help. He hadn't really forgotten how to have fun, he had just stopped being a foolish, distractible child. Nothing like Kishu. To prove it, he scooted closer to the wall, laid flat on his back, and brought his legs up so his feet were pressed perpendicular to the wall. Sticking out his tongue, he began to raspberry out one of the tunes he had heard Rhondson and Moya singing on the road. 

Her head shot up, and she stared at him. "What are you doing?" 

Link blew another raspberry. "Having lots and lots of fun." 

"That's the most pathetic attempt I've ever seen in my life." 

"Maybe you forgot how," Link retorted in a mocking falsetto. 

Moya put a hand over her mouth instinctively, but it didn't muffle the giggles under her mask.

"It isn't that funny." 

" No , you're just— you look really stupid like that." She sighed, and sat down, placing the slate in her lap. "Calamity, you're such a weirdo." 

"No, you are." 

"Not as weird as you. Why does anyone like you?" 

"They don't." 

Moya sniffed, and fell silent again. Every so often as she looked at the screen, but she didn't ask Link any more questions. He stopped making noises and stared at the ceiling without a single thought in his head. 

About fifteen minutes passed before Moya made some rapid taps on the screen, and flipped it around to let Link see. "What's this?" 

Link rolled his head over to look at the slate, and saw his camera album. "Don't look at that. It's not interesting to you." 

"Really?"

"I'm serious, it is only pictures." 

"Of potential Sheikah secr— hey." She chuckled. "I thought you said you didn't have friends. Were you lying to protect them?" Flipping the screen around again, she revealed a picture of Link surrounded by people. Paya was on his left, in a pretty yellow dress with flowers in her hair, eyes shining with laughter. Above her and Link were Yunobo and Sidon, the former waving at the camera and the latter with his arm around the goron, flashing a winning smile. Riju and Teba were on the right. Teba crossed his arms as he seemed to sense Riju making bunny ears behind his head. Kass was wedged in between Sidon and Teba, spreading his accordion out to play a song. Link himself looked younger. His hair was tied back with a scrap of cloth the color of his eyes, and the slight smile he had was warm like the early afternoon sunshine the picture was taken in. 

"Liar," Moya said. "Look at all your friends."

"They are not my friends anymore. Leave them alone." 

"Why?"

"They are a distraction," Link said, not untruthfully. "My duty and my loyalty lies with the royal family."

"Not even to convince them to join you to help serve the royal family? I feel like that's an exploitable loophole." 

Link blinked, oddly stunned by the suggestion. "I am not very good at convincing people to do things." 

"Neither am I, but that hasn't stopped me," Moya said. "I think I did the opposite."

"With Rhondson?" 

Moya grunted. "I tried to tell her my favorite Kohga Tale and she looked at me like I was crazy. So I gave up." 

The door to the room they were in opened, and a crack of yellow light fell onto Link's face. He squinted at the two shadows that peeked out from behind the door. One yelped, and ducked away while the other scrambled to grab them.

"Mar! What're you doing!" The second shadow hissed. "Don't show fear, emu brain!" 

"Shut up ," the cowardly shadow, Mar, said.

"Do you think he'd bite your finger if we got close?"

"No." Mar slipped through the door, revealing a masked Yiga about Moya's size. She turned to Moya. "Shouldn't you be done by now?"

"He seems cooperative," she said flatly. "What do you want?"

Mar leaned over her, studying the slate. 

"Ooh, what's that?" Mar swiped the device and began poking the sides. "Did you figure out how he makes ice?" 

"No— hey!" Moya's arm shot out to take back the slate, but Mar pulled it away. The two girls faced each other for a moment, sizing the other up. Moya's fists were balled, shoulders tense while Mar stood with the slate held high above her head. 

"You two aren't going to get into a fight over that stupid thing, are you?" The other Yiga in the doorway slipped in. She was taller than her compatriots, with lanky limbs that made her look slightly more like a footsoldier than a child. 

"I was just looking at it!" Mar said. "Why can't I look at it! And it was really easy to take. You should pay closer attention to your stuff." 

"Stop using me for pickpocketing practice," Moya growled. 

"This isn't yours. I should be able to see it whenever I want—" Mar looked up at her hand, and noticed a distinct lack of slate. "Carmine!" Mar whined. 

"You shouldn't pick on the runt so much," Carmine said. "Get more information from him later. You have extra training you're assigned to." She shoved the slate back into Moya's hands.

" More ?" Moya groaned, and shuffled towards the door with her back hunched over. 

"Yeah, more . Do you want any tips?" Mar said sweetly. 

"Of course I don't." Moya slipped out of the room, then slammed the door behind her, making Mar jump. 

"I can't believe she left us in here with the Champion," Carmine said. "We're just kids! We could get hurt." 

Link huffed, uninterested, and rolled over to face the wall as the girls began whispering to each other. After a minute or so he was rewarded with an experimental kick between his shoulders. 

"Get out of here, you dogs," he grumbled halfheartedly. 

"See, I told you he wasn't sc—" 

Link leapt onto his feet, whipping around to snarl at the Yiga like a caged lion. Both of the girls screamed in joy before fleeing and leaving the room empty.

With an aching stomach and nothing better to do, Link laid against one of the corners of his cell and tried to sleep. He wasn't sure what he expected from a bunch of Yiga brats, but they seemed to all despise each other. Only their devotion to Master Kohga and killing him seemed to unify them. Still, he couldn't help but wonder about Moya. Dorian had always shown nothing but hatred for the Yiga Clan, but Link wondered how he had changed his mind about it. And with her having the slate…

When he woke up, Hylia still hadn't returned. He couldn't blame her for being in a foul mood. It wasn't like he was too happy either. Still, her comment before she left was beginning to make him worry. The darkness of his cell didn't lend itself well to any concept of time, but he felt less tired, and there was another bowl of rice set out for him, so he assumed it had been a few hours. Realizing his current value to the clan, he scooped up some of the rice and ate it. The texture was wonderful, almost too nice for prison rice– soft and fluffy, with just the right amount of stickiness, though it still smelled like bananas. When he finished, he licked the bowl clean of any remaining grains, and set it down. 

If he strained his ears, he could hear murmurs outside. He stood up, clutching the bars of the cell and trying to stick his face as far as he could outside. Hopefully it could get unstuck. 

The door to the room opened, and Moya slipped in again.

 Link yanked his face out of the bars before she could see. "Hi." 

"Good morning," Moya said, sitting on the ground several feet away from the cell. "If you don't tell me what I need to know, then a blademaster is going to help me." 

"Okay." Link also sat down. "Why are you a runt?" 

"What? I'm not a runt —"

"Why did the kid call you a runt."

"Carmine?" 

"Yes, that one."

"Why do you care?" 

"Curious." Link shrugged. "The Yiga Clan is funny." 

"She's just stuck up," Moya grumbled. "How do you get this to make bombs?"

"Are they all stuck up?" 

Moya pulled back, holding the slate to her chest. "Why are you asking me?"

Link blinked. He had to think of an alibi. "You gave me some advice. I thought it was good to return the favor. I don't want to owe you anything." 

"Huh." Moya scooted back to her original spot. "They're not— well, my squad is. It's because I'm bad at stealth and disguise magic. And teleportation. And magic in general. You know that already, since you followed me here." 

"But is it your fault?" 

"...I don't know." Her head drooped. "It's stupid. They all like what I can do with Sheikah tech, but I can't just be good at that, I have to be a warrior too, because I can't shirk my duty playing with gadgets. And they think I'm not focused on it enough even though it's what I spend most of my time training to be. So I went on a mission to prove them wrong, and you —" she pointed at him— "you ruined it. If I told anyone how you got here I'd be the laughingstock of the entire clan ."

Link paused, tilting his head at the girl for a moment. Then, for some reason, he burst into laughter. 

"What! It's not funny!"

"No, not by itself, it's—" Link snorted. "Despite all your claims that the clan is different, and that you are free from the expectations of the gods, you still have the same problems as those who know they are chained to them." 

"That's not true," Moya insisted. "It's a personal problem." 

"Where did the expectations that you would become a warrior come from?" 

Moya balled her hands into fists and grunted in annoyance. "Does it matter? I'll find a way to be useful. This is nothing but a small setback." 

"And if you don't?" 

"It won't happen." 

"I think I understand," Link said, lowering his voice. "I had an accident a few years ago. I couldn't walk well, they were going to find another hero. It would not have worked, I did not know that then." 

"Did they say you deserved a final ceremony?" Moya asked flatly.

"A what?" 

"A final— never mind. Don't the Sheikah just let useless people sit around like miserable lumps?" 

"I don't understand." 

"It's like how wolf packs will take the weakest members of a deer herd and eat them. It makes them healthier." 

"You eat your own members?" 

" No . It's a party. When someone gets too old to work, or gets injured enough that they can't function properly, that person can get a final ceremony. It's a celebration of what they accomplished, and a sendoff to the next life." 

"You kill elders, and now you are afraid of getting killed." 

" No ! It's a— even if I flunked every class I took I wouldn't get my final ceremony. My squad jokes about it happening to me and it's annoying. It's not realistic." 

"If it will not happen, why does it disturb you?" 

Moya scoffed. "I'm getting a blademaster." She stood up, and turned towards the door. 

"I will tell you how to use the camera rune," Link offered, leaning toward Moya and grabbing one of the bars. 

"No more distractions?" 

Link shook his head. 

Moya sat back down. As clearly as he could, Link gave her a short explanation of the camera rune's functions, how to switch to it, and how it was activated. She caught on quickly, but none of the pictures she took looked too impressive.

"It is too dark here," Link explained, wrinkling his nose as Moya showed him her third attempt. "You should try to take some outside, where it is brighter." 

"I guess I could try that," Moya said, moving to delete the picture. "Hopefully no one will notice if I slip out for a few minutes." 

"If you think it is worth any risk." Link hesitated, then added "The mountains here are beautiful."

"Yeah, I like them. They're strange at night, with the way the wind whistles through things, and the moonlight bouncing off the snow." Moya turned as she heard a knock on the door. She grumbled something under her breath, then stood up, leaning dangerously close to Link's cell. He didn't attempt anything, not yet. 

With nothing to do after Moya left, Link tried to sleep. Hylia was still gone, which Link noted with some surprise. She had her moments of going silent, especially when he wasn't doing anything interesting, but he had expected her to be very talkative while he was trapped. Link rolled over on the ground, shifting his legs to make himself comfortable. 

She had said she wouldn't leave him to die, but she hadn't been there for days. Even when she was at her most irritated, she rarely left him alone for so long. Why couldn't she just put him in his mind or shout at him? He opened his eyes briefly, studying his bare cell. Maybe she had finally given up on trying to salvage him. All he had was this broken-down, tired, trapped body. It made sense to throw him away and wait for something new, something better. Something worthy of the spirit of the hero.

The next morning, Link ate his rice with no concern of being poisoned. After three days of the stuff, it was beginning to get old. Carefully he picked out every grain he could, and stuck them in his mouth. He was scraping off bits that were stuck to the bowl when he saw the door opening out of the corner of his eye, and he raised his head in expectation. "Good morning." 

It took Moya a moment to respond. "Good morning."  She shrugged, and sat down on the ground, placing the slate in her lap. "Just to reiterate, I'm not afraid to bring a blademaster here if you try anything funny, okay? Not that you have, but I'm warning you." 

Link tilted his head. "I don't know how to have fun, so how would I do anything funny?" he said innocently. 

"Weirdo," Moya scoffed. "Anyway, I was allowed outside, and I got to take some pictures of the sunset." 

Flipping the slate around, Moya revealed a picture of a vivid orange sky surrounded by blue mountains, their peaks dipped in shimmering snow. She tapped the screen again, and revealed an image of two moose nibbling on sparse grass. A wooly rhino grazed behind them in the distance. "It asked me if I wanted to replace the compendium picture for moose."  

"Yes, it asks this every time you take a new picture of something it recognizes." 

"Yours was ugly." 

Link squinted, trying to remember what he had set the picture as. Maybe it was that picture of a dead moose's head? "Then it is a worthy replacement." 

"...Thanks, I guess." 

"You are welcome." 

Moya snorted. "I also found all these pictures of food on one of the screens. I tapped on one and it did this."  She fiddled with the slate until it moved to one of the inventory screens, then touched a picture of an apple. There was a flash of blue light, and a singular red and green apple plopped onto the floor and rolled towards Link's cell. "Are there really four hundred apples in this? How's that work?" 

"There should be five hundred," Link said, helping himself to the apple within reach. 

"Hey! That's not yours," Moya claimed, pointing to the apple. 

"These are from Satori Mountain." Link stuffed the apple into his mouth. "I picked them." 

Moya slumped. "Well, we need them more than you, so it's fine."

"There are plenty of apples to pick on Satori," Link said through bites of apple. "Send your blademaster to get them, and stop stealing mine."

"It was an accident!" Moya said. "Sort of. I was in my room and I couldn't sleep, so I started experimenting with it, and it dropped apples all over the floor and woke my squad up!"

"You cannot accidentally drop one hundred apples onto the floor." 

"I didn't think– well, I kept tapping the picture to see what would happen." 

Link raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you know how to put them back?" 

"You should tell me." 

"I will. Take another apple out." 

Moya turned the slate around, and tapped. Another apple fell onto the ground, but she picked it up before it could roll any further, and looked at Link. 

"The easiest way to put something in is to pretend you are putting it away in a satchel on your hip," Link explained, bringing his hand down to one of his own empty satchels. 

Moya mirrored his gesture, but the apple didn't disappear. 

"Other side." 

"Oh." Moya repeated her movement on the other side of her body,  and the apple vanished. "How much can it hold?"

Link shrugged. 

"You've never tested it?" 

"It is one of a kind. I would not want to break it." 

"Not enough to break it, but just to see what it can do. Test its limits." 

"It is too risky." 

"Hm." Moya flopped onto her back, keeping the slate above her as she looked at its contents. "You could feed the entire clan with just these bananas. And you have sugarcane?" She let a few fall out of the slate and onto the floor. "I wish I could have gone to Faron and eaten some like they do on banana runs." 

"Sugarcane is bad unless you boil it," Link said, wrinkling his nose.

"No it's not," Moya retorted. "Watch this." She sat up, and took out her orange knife, grabbing a piece of sugarcane and cutting off the ends of it. Then she sliced into the cane, taking off the green rind and pulling it off once she had cut into it enough. Holding it up for Link to see, she tossed the prepared sugarcane at him. He jumped as it flew through the air, but caught it in both hands. 

She picked up another piece of sugarcane, and began the process again. "Chew on it." 

"Why?" 

"Go on. It's sweet." 

Link stuck the sugarcane into his mouth, and bit into it. A refreshing syrup trickled out of the sugarcane, slightly bitter but still very sweet. He chewed on it a few more times, and was rewarded with more of the syrup until all that was left was a woody stem. He flipped the cane around and eagerly stuck an unchewed section in his mouth for more. 

"Good, right?" Moya said. She had taken her mask off to eat. The red circles under her eyes seemed darker, and white streaks were beginning to appear in the roots of her hair. 

Link nodded. 

"It— uh, it reminds me of my second favorite Master Kohga story. We didn't know how to eat sugarcane like this at first, until one day. Master Kohga was in the deepest parts of Faron, looking for bananas in disguise. He met someone traveling through, and they struck up a conversation about food…"

"He left the hideout?" Link asked. 

"Well, yeah," Moya said, rolling her eyes. "I never saw him leave, but he does leave. So, he and this weirdo were traveling through Faron, and Master Kohga saw him chop a cluster of sugarcane and eat it, just like we did. He was fascinated by it, and wanted to try it out! The guy carefully showed him how to chop the cane, and how to get the juices from it. Master Kohga was so pleased with this new discovery that he told the traveler a secret technique with bananas, and complimented him on his resourcefulness. Then he asked him if he wanted to join the clan and he said no, so Master Kohga killed him." 

Link wrinkled his nose. "That is stupid. Why did you tell me that story?" 

Moya crossed her arms. "Because–um, I thought it was relevant . The guy was very resourceful, but you can't just let an outsider know you're a Yiga Clan member and let them live. It's dangerous." 

"You are being very friendly with someone you know will die." 

"About that," Moya said, placing the sugarcane on her lap. "Uh…how would you feel about joining the clan. I mean, it would be hard to convince everyone of–well, since you did what you did– and–" She sighed. "You could prove to everyone that you're not…look, our whole thing is revenge, right? So you could prove…you didn't do what you did in cold blood. Maybe they'd understand."

Link stared at her in disbelief. 

"You're a horrible person. I'm not going to deny that. But you'd be really useful…and you're going to die if you don't." 

Several thoughts rushed into Link's head. He could give her his knee-jerk answer, that he would never betray his goddess, but did he have one anymore, if Hylia had abandoned him? What if she hadn't? What if this was a test? 

Was she really so cruel, as to test him now?

"I shouldn't," he mumbled, curling into himself. 

"Of course you shouldn't. I'm asking if you want to rebel." 

Could he? There had always been little things he did to resist: dawdling, lying, reaching out for others who could bring him out of isolation. What would she do if he refused to die? He stared at Moya again, watching her movements in the dark. His chest swelled. No, he couldn't forgive those pests for what they had done, and they wouldn't forgive him. Moya was too naive to realize. Besides, what good would only changing masters do? He would still be chained.

Moya shrugged. "Don't take too long deciding." She put on her mask, and gathered up her sugarcane and slate before leaving. 

He only waited a few moments before lying down and shutting his eyes. Link didn't want to think about anything anymore. The sooner he could sleep, the better– and, thankfully, it came easily to him.

Water sloshed under his feet, and a pillar stood in the corner of his eye. Link blinked several times, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. Hylia paced around in the distance, her hands folded behind her back, before she glanced at him and nodded. 

"Oh, there you are. I wish you had been at this party. You would have been so much more agreeable than the deities there, I assure you." 

Link stared at her.

"Actually, you probably could have told them what-for. Not a single word I say matters to them! It's like they think I'm a mortal child that needs to be chided for being foolish. I'm only slightly younger than them, and it shouldn't really affect their opinion of me. After all, the Golden Three did give me just as much authority as any other goddess." She scoffed. "Perhaps more, since they did create me specifically to guard the Triforce. Of course they don't care. They're only interested in petty squabbles. The fate of the world would never concern them, not at all. Cyclos— ugh, he is the worst . He says he has worshippers here, but where? Who would worship an obnoxious wind god? He only bothered to stay for half of it because he was so impatient; he said he had better things to do. WHAT better things to do, Cyclos ?? If I had any sort of authority over his domain, I'd— nevermind." 

"...He sounds bad," Link said. 

"He is terrible, really," Hylia said, shaking her head. "Come here." 

Link strode forward. "I wanted to apologize for snapping at you. Even if I disagreed, that was inappropriate." 

Hylia smothered him in an embrace before he could say more. "Just don't do it again. I needed a hug, oh, it was so awful ." 

Link patted her on the back as she continued to talk about her party with the other deities. Most of them were incredibly disrespectful to Hylia's work, but Cyclos kept smashing plates and various decorations that one of the other deities brought from their domain. Apparently he thought it was funny. Various other gods committed horrible crimes that ruined the party, which Hylia complained about in depth, as well as her general opinion on them, their domains, their demeanor, and their deeds over the past several centuries. 

"If only I had my vessel, I could whisk you away up into the heavens and you could ruin their festivities," Hylia said."Everyone would have their eyes on you and me. A mortal going to a party like that would be unheard of!" 

It took all of his willpower to not push her away. 

"Then you could tell them exactly what you thought of them, within reason, of course. I wonder— what would you wear?" Hylia hummed to herself. "I suppose there is no use speculating at a time like this. I'll be back in a moment." 

Link woke up inside his cell after feeling a strange jolt in his gut. He sat up and rubbed his head. Hylia could be back any minute now. At least he thought she would be. As time passed, he began to wonder if she was just toying with him. 

"Hey!" Moya said as she slipped in again. "They let me take pictures outside again." 

She showed Link her new picture. Moya had positioned herself on a high precipice, where she could get a glimpse of Hyrule Castle far beyond her. Giant cysts of Malice burst out of every crevice in the building, and tendrils like arteries crept out beyond it, reaching for the four pillars it had drawn up out of the ground so long ago. If he squinted, Link could make out legs like a centipede's splitting from one of the larger cysts. A shiver went up his spine. It had gotten worse again.

"Pretty nice, right?" She pulled back the slate. 

"There isn't much time," Link said. 

Moya nodded. "It's growing. Everyone can feel it. It's speaking to us, telling us what it's going to do. Don't you think it's terrifying?" 

Link shrugged.

Moya's shoulders slumped, and she paused for several seconds to stare at him, or at least that was what Link assumed. "It's going to kill whatever it can reach, and that's causing some division." 

"Ah, some of you suddenly regained your senses?" 

" No . It's a matter of what it destroys. We still worship the Calamity, but we're not stupid. We need to control it, to destroy what we need it to. And you can help." Moya scratched her arm. "We don't have to answer to anyone. We're free. Who doesn't want that?" 

"Moya." 

She froze.  

"You know there is no inbetween in this world, there is no freedom, only light, darkness, and those who are bound to it."

Moya said nothing. 

"That thing will destroy everyone if it isn't stopped. Light must prevail. Yes, perhaps it is hard for us to understand.” He paused, contemplating his next sentence. “Do you know why I have not defeated it yet?" 

Moya shook her head.

"Fear.”

She leaned in. 

"I was born with one purpose," he said, placing one hand on a metal bar. "To defeat the Calamity, and serve the goddess incarnate. Once I have completed my tasks, I do not know what will happen to me. Still, it must be done." 

Moya nodded, and sat on the floor, scooting closer to hear. The slate was within arm's reach, resting on her lap. "You're like us. You want to fight back," she said. 

What is she talking about?

Link felt like he’d swallowed a bolt of lightning. He froze, trying to not make any sudden movements. 

How long have you been revealing things to this rat? 

His arm shot out, and he felt the handle of the slate in his grasp. Moya shouted and grabbed the slate, but he forced his arm back with no trouble. He flipped frantically through the slate's screens, looking for the map.

"Hey!" Moya grabbed her knife, and stuck her arm through the bars, swinging at him. Link caught her by the wrist and twisted the knife out of her hand. 

"You—!" she snarled. He let go of her as she tried to yank her arm back, sending her crashing onto the floor. "You tricked me!" 

Link tapped on the slate to zoom in on its map, struggling to conceal a smile. "Did you expect less?" He teleported away in a flash of blue light. 

(A/N 2025: keeping in tradition of ruining the tension of each chapter as I post silly images: a Moya.)

Chapter Text

Link rematerialized in Hateno. He winced as the late afternoon sun shone into his eyes, and shaded them with his hand. 

So that was your plan? Lie to the girl until she came close enough?  

He took a deep breath, and let it out. "Yes." 

That sounds about as ridiculous as mine did.  

"Perhaps I would have escaped sooner if I had not been so stubborn," Link replied, turning the handle of Moya's knife around between his fingers. Funny how he had taken it back again, he thought to himself as he stored it with his other weapons. 

Wasting time, as always. What was that you said, about being afraid? 

"Another lie." Link took his leave to step off the shrine platform. Hateno looked peaceful— afternoon bird chatter filled the air, and the usual villagers roamed outside. 

Then do you intend to keep your promise?

"Of course. The vessel is in a dire state, and I so selfishly have denied her freedom." 

Aha! I was hoping your imprisonment would give you time to reflect.  

"Ah, yes." So she did that on purpose. Link swallowed the rage bubbling in his throat. Without a doubt, he needed rest, or he wouldn't succeed in scaling the castle, but he wanted to make sure Her Grace was reassured of his obedience– the last exchange with Moya had been too close, far too soon. Wracking his brain for a solution that didn't tread on her nerves, he realized the answer was right in front of him. He strode towards his house.

Wait — where are you going now? 

"I need to retrieve the Master Sword." It should have been left untouched. "If you permit it, I will also gather supplies for my journey to the castle. A few fairies and medicine. That is all."

Don't test your luck.

Link stopped, and stood in place, expressionless. 

Hylia laughed. My, you take my words so seriously! Hyrule Castle is a very dangerous place, isn't it? I am simply requesting that you be efficient with your time, not that you aren't permitted to prepare.  

"Of course, Your Grace," Link said, his shoulders relaxing as he continued his walk. He pushed open the door, expecting to see his living room as messy as he left it. 

Instead, he saw a vase of fresh flowers on the table, and the scrawled-on wall painted over. It was like nothing had ever happened, and he had been living happily here for the past few weeks instead of going on a dangerous trek across Hyrule and getting captured by the Yiga Clan. Letters and notes were stacked in a neat pile next to the flowers. Link picked one up and began to read. 

Dear Mr. Link,

I noticed that your house was broken into by the masked people that attacked our village. Since you seem to be away on an adventure, my family came to help fix up some things! You've always been helpful with helping me drive monsters away from the sheep, so I wanted to repay you. 

Koyin

Dear Mr. Champion, 

Hope you don't mind, but I noticed some of your garden was uprooted by those vandals, so here are a few premium-quality seeds from my shop! You're a bit of a strange fellow, but I can't say I don't miss you. Hope you stop by sometime! 

Pruce

Dear Mr. Link,

Oil say, that big eye on your wall looked a little unsightly! It paint me to leave it there, so me and the hubby fixed it for you! 

Sayge and Senna

Dear Champion,

Thank you for telling us about Seldon. It's a shame we weren't able to save him, but you let his daughter say goodbye, at least. I wasn't sure if you needed this, but it's always nice to give a neighbor a gift. 

Uma

On top of the letters were various packages wrapped in plain paper. Link tugged on the string tying the first package together, and found the seeds Pruce (the shopkeeper down the road?) gave him. In the next, he found a carefully wrapped cheese. Without a second thought he stuffed some of the cheese into his mouth, feeling its creamy texture in his mouth as he chewed. He had never had Koyin's cheese, despite her offering it to him every Blood Moon, when he would go to kill the local monsters and prevent them from attacking her livestock. She had almost died. She had almost died, because of his mistakes .

Link's nose wrinkled. He gathered up the letters and tore them in half, discarded them on the floor, and walked upstairs to his bed. There was another note and a wrapped box on it, addressed to him. Like a perturbed cat he knocked both of them off, and kneeled down, reaching under until he felt the cool metal hilt of the Master Sword in his palm. He dragged the sword out, and pulled it halfway out of its sheath to check the blade. Its edge looked as sharp as he had left it. 

For a moment, he wondered if anyone had seen it there under his bed. He supposed it didn't matter. No one could steal the Master Sword; it would only accept the hero's spirit as its wielder, and burn any others who tried to touch it. Of all the things Her Grace had told him, this was the most reassuring. After adjusting his baldric to fit the scabbard, he slipped it onto his back. Picking up the mirror he had left on his bedside table, he tilted his head, puffed out his chest, frowned. His golden eye stared back at him; only a few blue flecks remained in it now. 

It felt safe, belonging to someone. Maybe some part of him had always wanted her to be there, and that part stayed satisfied while the rest of him bucked and struggled. She had always been there for him, at his very loneliest. When everyone else had abandoned him she told him no one else was worth his time, but she screamed at him if he talked to anyone she didn't approve of, made him pass out in the middle of the road, and now she had left him on purpose— only to be cruel, only because he had told her he wouldn't do what she asked. Link put the mirror down. What good was belonging if you could be thrown away? 

You look concerned. 

Link jolted up, then hunched back down, folding into himself. 

Looking in the mirror? I don't mind. After all, it's best you look presentable to the vessel if you can. 

"Should I take a bath?" 

If you think that will help. Really, the amount of things you should do to yourself will take more time than we have at the moment, so I think it best to wait. 

Link was still.

Do you think you could fit into that royal guard's uniform again? Or are you too…oh, nevermind, you probably are. 

"Probably are…?"

Don't tell me you don't know what the problem is. You'll need to cut your hair, too. Military men usually keep it short as it is, and since I'd imagine the vessel will make you the head of her army, it's best you set a good example and stop looking like a slob. Oh, and couldn't you fix that scar over your face with that device? What was it— where I met you again. 

"Shrine of Resurrection," Link mumbled. "I could not use it on my own, I would need Purah, she won't talk to me." 

Purah? The Sheikah woman, correct? Easily fixed; they serve the vessel just like you do, so they'll listen to her. Anything she doesn't like about your body can be dealt with there, I'd imagine. Perhaps even that extra…though I don't know how I feel about you being too muscular…

"Will she like what I look like?" 

She is an extension of my will.

Link stared at his face again, wondering what shape it would take, whether he'd be able to recognize himself. 

But we both love you, dear, so don't worry about it too much. It will make you much happier too! She is well acquainted with mortal customs and behavior, so she will help you with your various eccentricities more effectively than I have. In only a few months' time I imagine you will be unrecognizable— a polished gemstone that came from a dirty rock. 

To loosen the tension he felt gripping his body, Link put the mirror back and brushed off a few grains of dried rice from his tunic. It was filthy.

Of course, that is with my help. Who knows what you would have been doing if not for my guidance.

"Yes, thank you very much, I appreciate what you have done." The words rolled off his tongue, groveling and vile. Sweeping away the cloud of disgust that had settled, he took his slate out and looked for fresh clothes and gear. 

It's wonderful that your house is clean now, too. You should think about what you're going to cook her when you're finished defeating the thing.  

"The Calamity?" Was she not paying any attention? She was tied to an eternal battle with the thing . Did she even care?

I know what it's called, don't patronize me. What meal do you think would be best?

He knew he wasn't allowed to ask why the vessel was staying at his house, so he didn't. Hylia loved discussing some elaborate domestic plan her little toy would go through with while the castle was being rebuilt. "Ah— mushroom, mushroom soup might be tasty," he said, a few seconds later than usual. "With some cream, a little broth." 

That's unappetizing. I don't like mushrooms; they look strange. Not to mention how meager it is for a homecoming meal. Don't you have some venison?

"I have mystery meat." 

Tell me it's mostly venison.

Instead of answering, Link pulled out his Champion's tunic. 

Venison feasts are what nobles ate when Hyrule was in its golden ages. It is only appropriate, so you'd best get to hunting it right afterwards if you don't have any. 

Link dug his fingernails into the palms of his gloves. It took all of his willpower not to scream. "I will do it promptly after she is rescued, I know of a good forest for deer." He pulled off his old tunic with some effort, then slid into the sky blue fabric of his old uniform from so long ago. 

Good. Your queen deserves nothing but the best.

Her stupid doll that everyone loved deserved nothing less than his body and soul and complete obedience and whatever else she could wring out of him. While she ate like a pig, too. What idiots those mortals were to adore her. They put up statues and temples to her, named their own country in her honor, and she didn't care if they lived or died. How did his other lives stand this? Did they all resent her, or were they just as slavish as everyone else?

It wasn't like they had more choice than he did, though. Moya gave the impression that resistance was easy, that there would be no consequences. Link knew better. Whatever he did to her would be returned threefold, either by her cronies or Hylia herself. There was nothing he could do, no power he could call on but her mercy as he ruined everything, over and over and over, beyond death, throughout eternity. 

Though a man of violence, he couldn't raise a blade toward his greatest enemy. Some part of him knew it would only hurt him to rot in anger like this, that it was better to forget, but he couldn't bring himself to do it anymore. 

(A/N: A comic. Yes Hylia does technically have two designs; this is her undisguised human one)

Chapter Text

Hyrule Castle’s towers loomed above him. Link could feel veins of Malice pumping through the ground, pulsing outward from their source. Their beat was slow and regular, like a parasite, anticipating a change before it awoke and burst out of its host. The place had a sickly red ombre to it, and the air smelled like rot and death. 

He stepped forward. 

Before he could go far, he saw a flicker of black and crimson near his hip. He turned his head to investigate. Tiny globs of Malice from a nearby puddle were forming tendrils and reaching towards his Sheikah Slate. Link swiped it away from the tendrils, and shook the slate off. Some new trick the Calamity was playing. He turned it on.

It buzzed. The screen flickered on and off before he read:

Unknown Error (183: Aborted Operation.)

The screen went red, and flashed again.

Ÿ̵̢̛̤̣̱͈͍͉̖͉͕͕̯̥́̃́̅͒͆͊̈̕ͅO̸͉͓͈̞̥͆Ų̴͚̦̘̖̥͔̞̒̇̈̊̔̀̅.

UNNATURAL CREATURE. Ÿ̵̢̛̤̣̱͈͍͉̖͉͕͕̯̥́̃́̅͒͆͊̈̕ͅO̸͉͓͈̞̥͆Ų̴͚̦̘̖̥͔̞̒̇̈̊̔̀̅ RETURN TO THE EARTH, AND LET IT CONSUME YOU AS IS THE ORDER Ÿ̵̢̛̤̣̱͈͍͉̖͉͕͕̯̥́̃́̅͒͆͊̈̕ͅO̸͉͓͈̞̥͆Ų̴͚̦̘̖̥͔̞̒̇̈̊̔̀̅ OF ALL THINGS. 

Link grimaced and turned it off, then turned it back on again. It went back to normal, set on the map screen like he had left it. He planned to teleport to the shrine inside Hyrule Castle, near the docks. From there, he could use a shortcut into the library to make his way up to the Sanctum– a secret tunnel bored into the rock long ago. He zoomed in on the shrine, and tapped it twice. 

Nothing happened. Link tapped it again. He saw red in the corner of his eye again– the tendrils creeping up. 

Link hissed, grabbing the Master Sword and swiping at the tendrils. They recoiled back into their puddle, and Link heard whispers– curses swaying in and out of his ears. One last time, he tapped on the shrine, and still, nothing happened. Tapping on another shrine outside the castle had no effect. Vaguely, he remembered something from Purah about checking the slate’s basic functions if there was a “glitch,” so he flipped through his runes, trying each one to make sure they worked. All of them seemed operable. He was trapped here, for better or worse. 

No matter what, he knew his last free moments would be hell. This just extended things. Link was familiar with the layout of the castle, despite avoiding it on principle. He began moving, planning out a new route to the Sanctum. With the Zora tunic he could save some time by using the waterfalls. Running past a grounded Guardian, he activated the magnesis rune as he reached the giant metal doors guarding the castle entrance, and threw them open. 

Badump. Link felt the ground shudder. He steeled himself and began his walk to the closest waterfall. Black globs fell over its edge and into the water below it. Nothing targeted him, but he hid behind a dead tree as he changed into the Zora tunic, just in case. Then he jumped into the water. 

A sticky film slapped onto his body as he dove in. It covered his face as he surfaced for air, Malice filling his nostrils as he floundered to get it off his nose. It ate into his throat and whatever skin was left exposed like acid. As he struggled, he dipped under the water and swallowed more of the infested liquid. No use trying to get rid of the film now. He forced himself to the waterfall and leapt up into it, shutting his eyes. More ooze slammed into him, but he felt himself leave the water and landed. He leaned against a wall and hacked up the unnatural ick that had entered his body, clawing it off his nose and mouth. 

It was just the first one. He saw the next waterfall beyond him, visible past a throbbing pustule of Sheikah tech and insect parts. Link felt sick. A lynel or two would bring him less trouble. 

How are you doing? Hylia asked. The Malice on Link's body fled like a magnet from the wrong pole, and, without warning, he retched. Pain ripped through his throat. 

…Not well, I see.  

Link didn't answer. He wiped his mouth off and began changing back into the Champion's Tunic. At least she had cleaned his clothes, and his face stung less.

Are you excited for your reunion?  

"Yes," Link croaked. He wished she would leave him alone. 

Perhaps it's best if you don't speak for now. She is accustomed to your silence, so I suppose it will not be a surprise. If you need help, I will be here, watching you as always.

Nodding, he turned towards the first gatehouse. 

When he stepped through the gate, it didn't shut. He glanced at the archway above him, and saw a sac of Malice clinging to the wall, swaying as it pulsed. A trail of sticky filaments kept it there; he followed it, and at its source he heard a low growl. Two striking green eyes watched him, and a horn pushed its way out of the red and black pus that surrounded it. The lynel's bow and part of its arm were still free. Its fingers stirred, reaching out for Link, straining to pull itself away. Link's breath hitched— he realized he had overstayed his welcome, and left through the other gate. 

The path directly upwards from the first gatehouse had always been blocked off. Now the sea of Malice that prevented him from going forward was a wall, with spiny pillars holding it upright. Link turned to his left. 

Behind him, something crept. 

He whipped back around to face the gatehouse. It looked the same. 

Behind him, something rattled. 

"Your Grace?" Link whispered, so it didn't hurt his throat. 

Link recognized the red glow of a Guardian's sight on his back before his conscious mind could bring up his shield. He saw a decayed Stalker dragging itself towards him on its new legs made of Malice. Sets of centipede—like appendages jutted out of places in its body where they shouldn't have been. The rattling had come from there, maybe. The light stopped blinking, and focused on his chest as he steeled himself to block the shot. Its blue beam rushed towards him, and he parried it with ease right back to the decayed Guardian. Its eye shattered, and it fell to the ground as its legs destabilized and turned into a black puddle around its shell. 

More red lights blinked on his body. He brought out a heavy bow, shooting a bomb arrow at a pair of Skywatchers to disorient them before dashing in the opposite direction. The only way up was through a tunnel thick with Malice. For a few seconds, his feet thudded on solid ground until he heard the squelch of the stuff under his boots, and he was forced to pull his feet out of it, step by step. It burned. He grit his teeth and lunged forward.

When he stumbled out of the tunnel he saw a small entrance into the castle's interior. Studying the hole while he shook Malice out of his boots, he recognized it. The servants' quarters— he wasn't far off from the Sanctum now. They connected to a stairwell he could use to climb up to it. Link ducked inside, placing a hand on the stone wall and watching bits of dirt and rubble crumble off. The tunnel here was smaller than the others– just wide enough for two to walk abreast, no more. As it grew darker, he placed his hand on the wall, feeling gaps between each tiny room, steadying himself as he stepped over bits of wood from broken doors and collapsed structures. The hallway was long; he wondered how many people had lived here, died here. He couldn't imagine this place being filled with servants again, no matter how hard he tried. It was too empty.

In the pitch black, the tunnel leading out of the servants' chambers and into the stairwell was difficult to find. Still, Link felt his right hand slip away from the wall, and turned. The stairs were shallow and regular, with not much debris to speak of, from what he remembered. It had a high ceiling, supported by the stone it was carved into. He started climbing. Servants must have entered here to attend to the castle, slipping through their narrow corridor to the rush of the main stairwell, where the king would be whisked away from his chambers every morning accompanied by lords and ladies, chirping questions and news and rumors. Knights, too, would hurry up and down the stairs— once upon a time, he believed he had done it. Nothing stirred the air as he walked through now. It smelled like mold. 

The regular shaking and thumps from before were stronger here. Every so often, Link would see an eye watching him. The dim illumination they provided showed what they concealed: stone engravings of birds, illustrations from ancient tales of Hylia and her kingdom. In that way, the Calamity seemed to have intent, malevolence, almost. He could understand why it hated, despite its destruction. Still, he could not let it live, for the good of the kingdom and its people. But what good did the kingdom do? He had never seen it, and though its ruins were everywhere, the people he knew were happy without its dominion. They admired the vessel, they adored her, even, but what did she provide them with? 

He kept climbing. In a time that might have been enshrined in these walls, the royal family had worked alongside the ancient Sheikah to develop godlike machines, matching the very power of Hylia herself. They stood by the vessel and himself to defeat the power he now faced again. But such a thing was a danger. Above all else, Hylia and her kin wanted control. If the power of the gods could be replicated, then what was a god? The technology was blasphemy: a challenge to an ancient order engraved on their souls, so it was discarded, left to rot. He took out Moya's knife from his slate. How ironic, for it to be turned against the thing it was made to imitate, made to serve. Link stuck the knife in his belt. He was in the dark; he doubted anyone could see him put it there.

As he came closer to the Sanctum, red light illuminated the very top of the stairs. He heard the same crawling and shifting he had heard earlier, louder this time. The eyes in the stairwell all gazed at him with interest. It anticipated him. Slowly, he loosened his fists, letting his fingers relax and rolling his shoulders back to loosen the tension. His fingers clenched again as he took the last few steps into the Sanctum, his feet kicking up century-old dust. 

Its eyes were already set on him as he saw Calamity Ganon's new form for the first time. It stood tall, nearly as high as the great ceiling that covered the throne room, with countless sets of arms springing from its sides and a humanlike body with red hair. Heavy pauldrons of Sheikah make covered its shoulders and trailed down its back. Four tubes were connected to its chest, pumping with the same rhythm as the castle. It leered at him.

Link!

Link raised his head to see a flicker of familiar light in the monster's chest. 

I can't hold it back!

It lurched forward, pulling the tubes out of its chest and screaming in rage. Link grit his teeth, and unsheathed the Master Sword, its blade shimmering with energy. 

Before he could strike, a flash of blue light ripped through the Sanctum. Four beams shot directly at Calamity Ganon, and it stumbled back, slamming into an outer wall as it covered its face, trying to escape the power directed at it. But the beams stopped; the beast pulled its hands away from its eyes. It half growled, half chuckled as something rumbled in its throat, and it opened its mouth. A blast of red-hot light tore through several pillars before locking onto a target in the distance. Straining his ears, Link heard a soft boom in the southeast that made his stomach turn. It turned to him and smiled. 

It has been festering here for far too long , Hylia said.

Link could see eyes on Ganon's body that looked suspicious, but other than that, he couldn't find any weak points besides the obvious one: the head, which was small and difficult to aim at. He took out his bow and fired at an eye on its shoulder. It burst, and without warning the beast threw a kick at him. Link threw up his shield, but it was too late. He heard a cracking noise as his body slammed into the wall. Getting up, he grabbed his bow and fired at the eye on its other shoulder.

It grinned again as the arrow bounced off its shoulder, the sheen of an orange forcefield flickering. Link growled and rushed forward with his shield out. If he could decipher the timing of the beast's attacks, he could slow down time and get a few hits in at its ankles. Ganon made a strange gurgling sound, and took the bait, swinging at him with its sword. He flipped out of the way, watching the blade slow like a waterfall reaching a stagnant pool. Then he dashed to its legs.

The Calamity's ankles were covered in Sheikah armor, thick and sturdy as usual. He decided to swing at one anyway. The Master Sword bounced off it, wobbling like it wasn't made of sturdier metal. Link stared up at Ganon in alarm. It stared back at him.

Try the back!

Link caught a glimpse of yellow near its knee, and with the few precious seconds of bullet time he had left he ran to the other side of the beast. Several yellow eyes observed him. Unlike the interior of shrines and the tech he was used to seeing, the armor on its back was filled with odd bumps and grooves-- swirls that looked like they could be used as handles and foot grips.

He wasn't sure if shooting at them would do any good now. Sheathing his sword he leapt up onto Ganon's leg and clung to the armor. The nearest eye was just a few moments' climb away. 

Then Ganon growled, picking up his leg and shaking it violently. Link's body flew around like a scrap of cloth in a hurricane, but his grip was firm. When the shaking stopped, he pushed forward, climbing further up as it paced, swatting at him and flailing its arms. He pulled himself up a few more feet, and stabbed the eye directly through the pupil. Ganon screamed in pain. 

Link grunted, and made his way up further, towards its calf, towards another eye. Anger coursed through him as he pierced it. As it burst he jumped up again, heading for the next pustule on its back. Cold wind rushed onto his back. He jumped into a crack in its armor, but it wasn't enough to protect him as Ganon slammed into a wall, once, twice, three times before Link stabbed it. He winced as the voices shouted at him to continue.

You've almost made it! 

To the top! There is nothing stopping you now!

His head burned. This monster had taken everything away from him. It would never land another blow on anyone he knew, in this life or the next. Maybe there wouldn't be a need for another life. What if he could stop it for good? Link pulled himself up and jammed his sword into the eye on Ganon's shoulder, twice for good measure. The voices shouted orders, praise, goading him towards the finish. They clanged and clanged and clanged, the frantic cacophony blurring together until it became nothing but nonsense. Today this would end. The cosmic gears would crack, then shatter, and finally everything would be at peace. 

Link grabbed fistfuls of red hair that burned his fingers, pulling himself up to the top of the monster. A flaming jewel on Ganon's head blinked; its slit pupil narrowed as it focused on him. 

Now! The two voices shrieked in unison. 

Link brought his sword down. 

What happened in the next few moments he couldn't make sense of. Light was everywhere. For a moment, he floated in nothing, stared at nothing, felt nothing. He brought out his paraglider and landed— somewhere, then fell to his knees. 

The lilting voice of Hylia graced him. You've done it! I have waited so long for this moment to come. Go, meet me.

Link pushed himself slowly up onto his feet, body swaying with exhaustion. The light had concentrated into a pearl near the center of the room. Faintly, he could see the vessel's silhouette inside. His back straightened, and his heartbeat drummed in his ears. He strode forward. 

The pearl unwrapped itself like petals falling from a rose. A faint aura still surrounded the vessel, and tendrils of light circled her, twisting around her limbs. She had turned away from him, holding out her hand to watch its glow. "You're here," she said as he stopped behind her.

Link recognized every fold in her white prayer dress. She was branded into his mind and eyes. 

He took the traitor's knife and brought it up, just as before. 

Sheikah blades could cut through flesh easily, so he didn't expect any resistance, but his arm was caught by something. Link saw the vessel's hand around his wrist. It was shaking. He blinked, and their eyes met, gold on green. He had never seen her face before. Her features were soft, but her nose was slightly pointed– a gentler version of the king's nose, and with the same pride he had in his facial features, stifled though it was. Black ooze stuck to her cheek, and traveled down her right side, where it sagged on the tips of her fingers.

"Stop," she said, gripping harder onto his wrist. “Link. Stop.”

He didn't oblige, studying her face further in his confusion as she stared at his. 

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. 

His strength slackened. Didn't she know? She had seen through his resentment before, kicked him down into place like the dog he was. "Don't play the fool, Your Grace.”

Something slapped him, hard. Link doubled over, covering his face, white flecks filling his vision. 

What do you think you're doing, Hylia said.

Link sat down, and held his legs close to his body.

After I chose you. I told you that you had a purpose, to encourage you, and you twisted it, because in the end you were nothing but a murderous little wretch. Well, I'll tell you the truth. The spirit of the hero left you long ago. The only reason that sword accepted you was that I willed it to. Touch it again, and you will feel its righteous fury. 

The ground shook like the god of earth despised him. Whatever stood before him fell onto her knees, clutching her head as tremor after tremor hit them. Pieces of the floor cracked, and a chunk of the ceiling collapsed on the other side of the room.

Goodbye, hero.  

Another hand pulled his fingers away from the knife, and took it. Her again. 

"I won't hesitate to defend myself," she said in a shrill voice, "but we need to get out. Please." 

He didn't move, so she pulled his arm around her shoulder, and dragged him along. Link felt his consciousness slipping again, and nearly pitched forward, but she held him up and began walking towards the outer exit. After a few steps, her hold on him lessened, and he slipped out of her arms, standing on his own feet and trembling. 

She turned back around. "Are you coming?”

Cracks formed at Link's feet, and the ground broke open. He could have stepped forward, if he wanted, but he squeezed his eyes shut and fell. 

Yet again something grabbed him. Link opened his eyes and found himself dangling by the arm. Zelda was holding onto him. 

"Curse you– pull your own weight!" she puffed, grimacing as she tried to bring him up with a fruitless yank. "Grab onto the ledge before it gives way too!" 

Link's eyes widened, and he swung his other hand up, then lifted himself out of the hole. Zelda stumbled away and dashed out of the Sanctum. He felt something twinge in his chest, some long-forgotten ache that had resurfaced. Whether it was curiosity or simple self-preservation, he didn't know, but he ran after her. 

(A/N 2025: I think this is one of the first finished pieces I drew for the AU! Old, but I still like it.)

Chapter Text

The ground shuddered as Zelda led the way out of the Sanctum and into the courtyard just outside. Dead Guardians and parts littered the ground, no longer held together by any will. Malice was still there, though it had stopped beating. 

Zelda slowed as she turned to see the wreckage that was her home. "Why isn't it gone?" 

Link didn't answer. He felt a pit in his stomach start to form as Hylia's words to him repeated in his mind, but he pushed the sensation down for the moment. This place wasn't safe. Turning away from Zelda, he brought out the Sheikah Slate and went to the map, tapping on it to leave the castle. A current traveled through the screen and nipped his finger.

Shaking his finger off, he put the slate back. While he was stuck here he guessed he should try and get both of them to a place that wasn't so covered in Malice. 

"It should be gone, I did everything correctly," Zelda said. "I didn't do anything wrong." 

A final tremor shook the ground with more force than anything before it. The dead machinery groaned, and the Malice quaked. Link stepped forward, steadying himself before he heard a crack that made his ears ring. He looked up and saw the tallest tower of the castle falling on them. Without thinking, he dashed towards Zelda, putting his arms out to shove her away. 

She winced and stepped back, then saw the tower above them. Zelda put out her hand as she had before. Tendrils of pure golden magic curled around her, and her skin glowed hot with energy, concentrating around her palm. A burst of light exploded around her, ripping a hole into the tower and sending chunks of rock flying. As she lowered her hand the base of the tower collapsed onto the ground— the very end of it was smoking. 

The air reeked of charred stone. Everything was still as they both paused to catch their breaths.

"It feels like the power is weakening," Zelda said. 

Link looked at her in a complete stupor. 

She turned to him. "And you were trying to help, weren't you? You would have saved my life, if I had let you."

Link shrugged. Some old instinct had forced him to act, or maybe he just didn't want people to get crushed by towers.

"Then you've changed your mind about wanting to kill me?" Zelda's eyes went wide. 

He didn't really know. "Payback. For pulling me out of the hole."

A flash of disappointment crossed Zelda's face, but she smiled to cover it up. "Thank you."

"Welcome," Link said, heading off in the direction of the exit before he felt a splitting pain in the back of his head. He placed his hand on it, and coagulating blood stuck to his fingers. Now that things had calmed down his body decided to start hurting.

Link let out a long sigh through his nose. Pulling out his slate, he took one of the bottled fairies he had packed earlier out and popped the cork off. The fairy floated out of the bottle, and Link tapped his head wound, directing it to what he wanted it to heal. It jingled in acknowledgment before resting on the wound and fading away, the gash already far less painful than it had been. 

Then he turned to Zelda. She had brushed off a little glob of Malice from her face, leaving behind a burn on her cheek. Her left arm still sagged with the disgusting red and black ooze.

"Are you going to get the rest off?" Link asked. 

Zelda frowned. "It can wait a moment, can't it?"

"Better before it leaves a burn," Link replied, sliding one foot out of his boots and pointing to boiling red patches of skin on his calf and foot. "Only there for a minute."

"I think my power has slowed it," Zelda insisted. "And it doesn't hurt. Let's hurry." 

Link squinted at the burn on her face. There had only been a small amount, but it had left a mark — and her arm was completely covered in Malice. Was she stupid? It would take no time to shake the stuff away. "You don't know that," he said firmly. "Get it off."

Zelda took a step back, alarmed at his sudden command. "Alright." Her right hand began to glow, and she brought it to her left arm, letting the Malice dissipate. Then she turned her head away from her work. The skin underneath was even uglier than the burns on Link's legs, to the point it was hard to tell if it was skin. Patches of pus-white and dark red spotted the ugly pink mass of her arm. The tips of her fingers had been eaten away into fleshy stumps, flakes of the remaining skin peeling away from them.

He sighed, and handed her his last bottled fairy. 

Zelda blinked, stunned as she held the bottle in one hand, hiding the bad one behind her back. "Oh! Thank you." For a minute, she stared at it, pushing idly on the cork with her thumb, before sitting down and pulling at the cork as she held it between her legs. 

While she mused over the bottle, Link decided to tend to the Malice burns on his legs. He found a bottle of ointment and some gauze in a pouch on his hip, and began dabbing the ointment on.

"Do you mind…er, perhaps you could open it for me?" She held the bottle out. 

Link snorted, indignation bubbling in his gut as he shot her a look. He snatched the bottle back and —still glaring— pulled the cork out with a sharp pop. Then he gave her the bottle again. 

Zelda frowned, but took it back. The fairy inside flitted up to meet her, and, noting her hidden arm, flew above her shoulder and down towards it. 

"Good. You can move the burnt spots," Link said, hunching over as he returned to his wounded foot. "It won't make it worse."

"Oh," Zelda mumbled. "I don't know if I– I would rather not." 

"You might have to." Once he was finished with the ointment and bandages, he rolled them over to Zelda. "That was my last fairy." 

"No healing elixirs…?"

He had rushed out the door this morning to collect fairies and then teleported immediately to a shrine outside of Castle Town to get a good view of the ruined city. "No."

Zelda looked down at the supplies Link had given her, and tried to imitate him. After closing her eyes and putting a few drops of ointment on her burns, she took the bandages and began looping them around her arm with one hand. Link, predictably, made no move to help her. When he thought she was close to finishing he began trotting down the path out of the castle again, and she followed behind.

 Neither of them spoke for some time. Against what Link thought was her better judgment, Zelda had walked ahead of him, her long, filthy blonde hair waving behind her in a slight breeze that rushed over the stagnant castle grounds. It felt unusual. Link remembered trailing the vessel, listening to her make plans for the coming Calamity and her holy purpose, a faint aura of light behind her golden locks. 

"It would be good to travel to Vah Ruta," Zelda said, abruptly breaking the silence. "Did you see the Calamity's counterattack? It went in that general direction. I fear the worst." 

Link didn't respond, but she continued anyway. 

"It would be wonderful to see the Divine Beasts after so long. Do you know if Purah or Robbie have attempted any maintenance on them since you freed them?" 

His discomfort grew. How did she know he did that? 

"But Impa is waiting for me. I wouldn't want her to wait more than she already has. And Robbie! Is he well?"

Link still didn't answer. 

"...Nevermind. You must be tired."

"Mm." 

"Yes, it only stands to reason. I apologize if I'm talking too much; you don't need to answer my questions now."

She continued forward, keeping silent as they descended. Without the eerie rhythm of the Calamity pumping through the place, the castle was deathly quiet. Once in a while, Link would hear the distant cry of a monster from the castle's interior, but none of them came out. With their master gone, it seemed they no longer had the courage to face anyone. Whenever they came across a pool of Malice that was too big to go around, Zelda would raise her hand again, and in a flash of light it would disappear. The bursts were smaller and dimmer every time. 

The castle doors were still open from earlier, so Zelda walked through it with no impediment. As she exited her century-long prison, she brushed her hand up against the door, feeling the grooves in the metal before looking on Castle Town. Link caught up to her, and stopped, standing a few feet away. It didn't look like she was going to move, so he strode ahead, making his way towards the quickest path out of Castle Town.

With Link at the front now, Zelda slowed her pace, dragging behind him at an almost intolerable speed. Every step she took, she would glance around, staring at the broken buildings and rotten wood, muttering things Link couldn't hear. She looked back at the castle, gazing at its now-shattered tallest tower, at the rot that consumed it still. 

Mostly out of frustration, Link stopped walking and stared at her. 

Zelda saw him stop out of the corner of her eye, and turned back towards him. "Sorry," she said bluntly, before quickening her pace. She kept her head down, her good hand clutching her ragged dress. 

They made their way through Castle Town quickly enough. Link didn't know what to expect from the land outside. When he stepped off the cobblestone paths of the city and onto the dirt road he had taken earlier, an emptiness hit him. The Master Sword, still strapped to his back, weighed against his body. So he was nothing but a fraud. He wondered why he was still alive, and what he had done to deserve it. It made sense now, why he could never be like a real hero, why Hylia had tried so hard to make him acceptable but had failed. When he had died, the hero's spirit hadn't stayed with him. Pulling out his slate, he looked for a shrine in the Lost Woods. The Master Sword needed to return to its rightful place. 

"The slate!" Zelda exclaimed. "Why didn't I think of that!"

Link jumped, and tapped the shrine. It shocked him. What was wrong with this thing!? He tapped it again only to get another shock, and stuck his finger in his mouth. 

"We could use it to instantly transport us to Kakariko! Is something wrong with it?" Zelda held out her hand for the slate. 

"S'mine," Link growled.

"I could take a look at it! Perhaps it's something with the power source, considering it seems to be hurting your finger. It will only take a moment." She reached towards it. 

"I do not want your help," Link said, backing away. "I will fix it. It is my slate."

"I seem to recall someone giving it to you," Zelda said firmly. "I won't keep it. I just want to see." 

"You think I will let you take more from me?" Link's lip curled, and he put the slate back on his hip. 

"I only want to help. I didn't study this technology for nothing!" 

"It is mine."

"Why do you deserve it! It's not fair; you don't even know what you're doing!" 

"It's mine!" Link stamped his foot. 

"You're behaving like a child," Zelda replied. 

Unabashed by the description of his actions, Link plugged his ears loosely with his fingers and began storming off into the fields. 

"What are you doing!?" Zelda said, throwing her arms up. 

"Leaving!"

"You can't do that!" 

Link ignored her. 

"You're my knight ! You're supposed to protect me, and what a fine job you've been doing!" 

Link took his fingers out of his ears and whipped back around. "I am not your knight."

"Then what are you?!"

He winced. The Master Sword weighed down on him again, heavier than ever. 

"Link, are— I didn't mean it, I meant you're my knight, so I— I don't know what else you'd be, I'm certain you have hobbies—" Zelda shrank. "And I was…nevermind. I'm sorry. I don't need the slate."

She might not need it, but leaving her here to fend for herself would certainly end poorly. He ambled towards her.

"If you could direct me towards the best path to Kakariko, or some inn, anywhere— that is more than enough." 

"It is okay." 

"...And I'm very sorry I shouted at you." 

Link shrugged, and held out the slate. "I was stubborn."

She took it, and held it close to her. A red and black haze puffed out from the screen. "It's been corrupted, somehow," Zelda noted. 

"I want it back when you are finished."

"Certainly. Thank you." Zelda sat down, placing the slate on her lap so she could hold it properly. For the last time, she glowed with a golden light, and let a pulse of magic flow through the slate. Then she held it out to him. "Try it."

Link took the slate, and returned to the map again. "Put your finger here." He gestured to the rim of the slate. 

Zelda pulled her hand back in curiosity, then brought it forward, placing one finger lightly on top.

"I will take you to Kakariko. Then I am going home," he said. 

She nodded with enthusiasm. "Thank you very much."

With another tap, the two disappeared in a flash of blue light. When they rematerialized, they stood in a lush green forest, the shrine Lakna Rokee glowing faintly behind them and a pedestal for an old Sheikah heirloom in front. A small wooden bridge nearby led to an abandoned dirt path covered in overgrowth and shaded by ancient, twisted trees. Still, in the orange sunset, it looked peaceful. Tiny frogs chirped under the bridge to the tune of the crickets, and fireflies had left the grass to travel the night. 

Zelda stepped off the shrine pedestal— wobbly, like a fawn eager to take its first steps. "...It's summer."

Link nodded, and gestured to the path they were to take. 

"Right. How far away are we?" 

"Not far."

The two walked in silence– Zelda staying behind Link this time, much to his relief. Every so often he would glance back to see if she was still there. She was always looking up at the sky, at the trees or the scattered mushrooms and flowers dotting the forest floor, enraptured. Once, she gasped, and they both turned their heads to see a blupee darting away into a bramble bush. Zelda muttered a few words of curiosity under her breath, but kept quiet otherwise. Soon the forest cleared, and the sheer cliffs surrounding Kakariko came into view.

"Another shrine?" she asked, as they trotted under a wooden archway with dangling Sheikah talismans. The shrine itself flowed with its telltale blue energy, but the pedestal under it was dead, blocked off by strange runes Link didn't recognize. 

Zelda strode to the pedestal, frowning as she drew her hand over it. "What…"

"Master Link!" A Sheikah girl— Link recognized her as Cottla— darted towards the two travelers. She pointed at him. "You're not supposed to be here!" 

"I'd like to think he would be allowed to escort me at least to the edge of the village," Zelda retorted, standing up. 

Cottla relaxed, her accusatory finger lowering as she studied the newcomer. "Oh. I heard it's very dangerous outside the village. Why're you coming to Kakariko, miss…?"

"Zelda. Princess Zelda, actually." She smiled, then carefully lifted up one part of her dress with her bad hand in a sort of curtsey.

The young girl's eyes widened so far it looked like they might have been popping out of her head. "No way." 

"I would…hope you could find a way for me to see the chieftain. She's a dear friend."

"You can come in, Princess! I'm sorry I yelled earlier, but I had to try and scare Master Link away!" 

"Would—" Before Zelda could finish, Cottla had zipped off, shouting something about spreading the news.

"Why wouldn't you be permitted to come here? The village has been open to travelers for more than a century," Zelda asked.

"Got banished." 

"Kakariko Village? Of all places?"

Link crossed his arms and sighed. "Provoked a Yiga attack."

"Why would you do such a thing? And why would they blame you for the actions of…the Yiga Clan. "

He felt a twinge somewhere, and turned his head away from the princess. "The chieftain had already had enough of me. After her people were killed, she decided it would be better if I didn't come here. That is all."

"But couldn't you have helped to protect them? Were they not helping you?" 

"They were." The Yiga Clan's purpose was revenge, Moya had said. Revenge against what, he hadn't known at first, but after the bombing he realized it was the core of their beliefs. Even if it was not in her power, Kishu had intended to raze Kakariko to the ground, take life for life, invoke as much pain as she could upon the people chosen to serve the Goddess. 

Link stared down the hill towards the village more as a habit than any conscious decision. It always looked so pretty at sunset. The village itself seemed unchanged, though he felt a strange quality emanating from it— the thatched roofs seemed to sag with some gloominess he didn't remember. Past an apple tree covered in bright green leaves, he saw two older Sheikah, Olkin and his wife Mellie, coming up the hill, the former gently supporting the latter with his arm. Beyond them, he saw Lasli and Claree the tailor sisters, and Pimm, who against all odds kept with their pace. 

"Princess Zelda!" Olkin said as he put a foot on level ground, then kneeled several feet in front of her. "You're finally here!"

All the Sheikah surrounded Zelda, asking her questions and fussing over her wounds. 

"I wondered since I was a little girl if I would be able to see you face-to-face," Mellie said, wiping a tear from her eye. 

"What happened during the fight with the Calamity to give you such terrible burns?" Pimm asked. 

Their talking faded as Link strode away, opening his map. He had done what he had said he would. Anything more would look ridiculous. 

Before he could get farther, a hand clasped his shoulder. "Master Link." 

He stood stock-still, then turned his head. Dorian, Impa's trusted advisor and guard, was furrowing his bushy brow at him. 

"The conditions for repealing your banishment were only to get the princess back," Dorian said. 

 Link turned his head away from Dorian. "I don't want to see it again."

"Oh, there's Master Link!" Pimm shouted. "Stupid boy finally got around to doing what he needed to do, eh?" 

Several villagers ambled over to Link and Dorian, crowding around them more closely than they had with Zelda. Pimm, completely unfazed by the Master Sword Link still carried, grabbed his cheeks and pulled his head over to her. He stumbled forward, swatting at Pimm's arm, but she paid him no mind, and brushed his bangs out of his face. 

"Terrible stitching on that," Pimm grumbled, turning Link's face to one side. "Did some half-blind Hylian do it for you?" 

He wrinkled his nose at her. 

"Gods, he looks like he's gone completely feral," Olkin said. 

"As if he wasn't already half-feral at best," Dorian chuckled. "It looks like we were the only ones keeping him civilized." 

Link finally yanked his head away from Pimm. "I stitched it myself." He stuck his bangs behind one ear.

Pimm laughed. "Only proves my point! But it does look decent— for a beginner working on himself. If I stitched like that I'd shrivel up and fade into dust out of embarrassment. When are you going to take those out?" 

"Soon." 

"I'll do it for you," Pimm said. "And what happened to your eyes? They're yellow." 

Link didn't respond.

"Master Link, right after you were banished I was missing a pumpkin," Olkin said, shuffling up from behind Pimm. 

"Stole it." 

He shook his head. "Well, I'd prefer it if you asked next time!" 

"I was growing my own," Link said haughtily. 

"Really?" he said. "I didn't know you gardened! I'd like to see— if you have any packed away in that slate of yours."

"Yiga destroyed my garden." 

"They've been harassing you still?" Dorian asked. 

Link nodded. "They killed a villager in Hateno." 

Dorian's frown deepened. "I imagine they will not be pleased with the princess's new freedom, either." 

"Our barriers against them should stay strong for the time being," Pimm added. 

"We'll still need to remain vigilant. I suggest you report to Lady Impa immediately." 

Of all the people in Kakariko, she was the one Link wanted to confront the least. "It was a few weeks ago. Purah would have told her already." 

"She would probably benefit from more information," Dorian insisted. 

"I don't want to stay." 

Dorian sighed. "Master Link."

"What?" he snapped. 

"You need to look beyond your own feelings. This is good for everyone." 

Link scowled. "Lady Impa has no reason to want me here."

"She is a reasonable woman, and her anger has cooled since you last saw her. This is for everyone's good, so I am requesting you put aside whatever you have against her in order to keep people safe." 

"That is why she is angry, because I don't keep people safe, I never have." 

"Far from it," Dorian said stiffly. He loomed over Link, giving him a look of mild irritation. "Don't underestimate your importance here. If you're nervous, take the princess with you." 

Link stared at Zelda, still being gushed over by the villagers who weren't talking to him. Even more of a crowd had gathered, brought by Cottla, who was trying to squeeze her way to the front. The group was speckled with familiar faces, but one was hidden, shaded by a small hat that she had pulled over her eyes. He peered at her, and caught a blurry glimpse of her face. Then he went white.

Craning his neck, Link strode over to Zelda, pushing people aside. 

"They—" Zelda stopped when she saw Link's expression. His eyes were wide and glassy, glued to someone else. Without a word, he slipped past Zelda, too. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but Link couldn't decipher them, nor did he care to.

When he arrived, he froze in place. Link's lips moved, but nothing came out. 

She took a step back, but as she did he moved forward. The young woman stopped as Link slid his arms around her, and pulled her into a hug, his chest quivering with emotion. Her arms were limp at her sides.

"Please let me go," Paya said. 

(A/N 2025: Zelda's scars :D)

Chapter Text

Beams of muted sunlight stroked Zelda's cheek, and slowly, her eyes half-opened. This wasn't her bed at home. The sheets were too light, too coarse as they wrapped around her body, and the bed itself sank under her weight, not firm enough to support her fully. An inn, perhaps, or the guestroom at a local official's home, maybe— but something still felt wrong. 

A throb of pain coursed up her right arm, dragging her into the present. She wasn't home; the castle was in disrepair, and the inns and stables she had frequented on her journeys across Hyrule were long gone. One hundred and four years since the Calamity, the villagers had said. The humble houses of Kakariko, nestled between the mountains, poked out from the bottom of the windowsill next to her. Outside, a cucco crowed to greet the morning— late, of course, and then it crowed again, softer and for no particular reason. Zelda was in the upstairs bedroom of her old friend Impa's house, where her granddaughter usually slept. A heaviness dragged her eyes down, and she rolled over so the sun stopped shining in her face. 

This only made her arm hurt more. She felt like she was grabbing a spark of flame that traveled up her arm in waves, pinching every single nerve she had. 

Zelda grunted, and sat up, refusing to open her eyes again for several seconds while she adjusted to her new position. "Good morning," she said, to an empty room. She stretched, rolling her neck and shoulders back, then rubbed her eyes with one hand. Two days had passed since she had sealed the Calamity. Yesterday, she hadn't done much other than read recent history books from Impa. It wasn't like she didn't want to do more— she was just too tired to bring herself to. Today, though, she felt slightly less tired, and she didn't want to read anymore. 

A shiver ran up her back as her feet hit the wooden floor. Solid ground was comforting. Zelda stomped on it once, just to make sure it was real, then glanced around the room. It was tidy, but still showed signs of use, especially at the writing desk nestled in the left corner. All sorts of baubles sat on it: notebooks, pens, a wooden flute, little pots of delicate clay flowers, a pair of what looked like Gerudo-made topaz earrings. To the right of the door, a pair of twin swords hung in a simple black sheath. 

There was a full-length mirror next to the desk. She realized she hadn't looked at herself properly in more than a century. Stomach turning with anticipation, she stepped in front of it. 

Her eyes immediately settled on her right arm. Carefully, she curled up her pointer finger, stretching the skin underneath the bandages. Malice burns could become more debilitating if you didn't use whatever was affected, the local healer had said, so she tried to exercise each finger every few hours. She curled her middle finger. The sensation was awful. Every time she felt the pain, she knew the Calamity would have laughed at her for her weakness. It was probably still laughing. 

There was no reason to move her ring finger. It was gone. She moved to her pinky, and relaxed. With that out of the way, she examined the rest of her appearance. Dark circles had formed under her sagging eyes, and her brows were bunched together. Her old dress was being repaired by the tailors nearby, so she had been lent one of Impa's grandaughter's nightgowns. The girl was taller and thinner than her, with broader shoulders, making the nightgown loose in all the wrong places. 

Worst of all was her hair. It was burnt and wild, split ends and charred strands flying this way and that. No amount of washing or treatment would fix such a mess. 

Long ago, she remembered her grandmother brushing her hair, pulling out every tangle and making it shine. "Golden locks for a golden princess," she used to say. "And, one day, for a golden queen." She would talk about what a lovely woman Zelda was growing up to be, and then remind her of some thing she had done that was improper for a young lady of her station, like blowing bubbles in her cordial, or saying that the royal guard captain's mustache looked ugly. 

Zelda stared at herself. Was she a woman now? Was she a queen? Her body closed in around her, and she felt her soul settle into it as she refamiliarized herself with its details. It was wrong. It was wrong – too tall, too tired, too sorrowful, despite the strands of blonde hanging down her back, weighing her down to this foreign flesh. She had to free herself.

The knife she had taken from Link wouldn't do, though she could have taken it from under her pillow. Its blade would ruin it more. Zelda stepped back, towards the swords hanging on the wall, and pulled one out of its sheath. She grasped the hair under her neck with her right hand, and began to cut, sawing her way through the useless clump. 

Someone gasped. "Princess!" 

The last few strands snapped free, and Zelda held the hair out like a trophy before turning to whoever had spoken to her. Impa's granddaughter had reappeared with a tray in her hands, gaping at the scene. 

"Yes?" Zelda asked. 

"Th– what did–" Impa's granddaughter shut her mouth to keep herself from stammering more. "Um."

"Do you like my hair now?" Zelda hadn't looked at it in the mirror yet, but she anticipated a fashionable, neat bob that barely grazed her shoulders. 

"It's– um. That's my kodachi you're holding." The poor girl looked ill. 

Zelda smiled brightly. "Oh! It's quite sharp. You've taken good care of it." She shoved the hilt of the sword towards Impa's granddaughter.

"Don't do that!" she yelped, jumping back and pulling her tray closer to her chest. The cups and bowls on the tray jostled and clanged against each other, and a splash of tea flew out and onto her uniform. "That's dangerous! Has anyone ever told you how to–" 

 Zelda pulled back the sword. 

"Handle…weapons." The girl sank. "I'm sorry, Princess, you– I was startled." 

"I'll put it back," Zelda offered. "You may call me Zelda, if you like. I don't think I've learned your name."

"Paya," she blurted. "I apologize." 

"It's perfectly alright! I tend to forget names, so I might ask you again later. Paya…it's very nice to meet you!" 

"It's good to meet you too," Paya said. "I've brought you some breakfast." 

Zelda glanced down at the tray.  It had a bowl of orange porridge with rice balls, three of what looked like crepes, a plate of cut-up fruit, an egg on a bread roll, some steamed cabbage, and a cup of what smelled like green tea. 

"We weren't sure what you'd want, and we don't have much Hylian cuisine available," Paya said. "May I come in to set it down?" 

Zelda nodded. "Certainly! Would you like to join me for breakfast?" 

"If you wouldn't mind." 

"I'd like to know if you mind, actually! After all, I did ask." 

"Me?" Paya's chest puffed out. "Oh, I don't mind."

"What are we waiting for, then?" Zelda stepped aside, and let Paya enter with a sweep of her hand. Grinning at her own jest, she strode over to her bed, and sat on it, letting Paya place the tray in her lap after putting her cut hair and the kodachi down. After taking a look at the crepes she realized just how hungry she was, and dug in. "Have you eaten?" she asked between bites. 

"I ate a few hours ago," Paya replied, standing and watching Zelda with her hands folded together awkwardly. 

"Are you hungry now?" Zelda held up the bread roll, only to receive an enthusiastic head shake from Paya. The princess put the bread back down. "You never told me if you liked my hair." 

Paya blanched. "Have you looked at it in the mirror yet?" 

"Mm-mm." Zelda shook her head. "I should look. I think shorter hair is quite practical."

"It looks easier to wash…"

"So, do you think it's too short?" 

"No—it—" Paya stopped herself. 

"Be as direct as you like. I don't mind, really." 

"It's uneven on the left side," Paya said in a pained voice. "And it's sticking out everywhere." 

"Oh." So much for a fashionable bob. 

"It's alright. I know someone who does hair— Lasli." 

Zelda's eyes sparkled with interest. "Is she the one repairing my dress?" 

"That's her sister."

"Why don't we pay them a visit?" Zelda suggested.

"Grandmother wants me to attend to you, so it would be no problem." 

Zelda nodded vigorously, finishing the last crumbs of her meal, except for the egg, which she set aside. "As soon as I get dressed." 

Paya took the tray back, and stepped away, striding out the door without a word. 

Zelda sighed, and began changing into the Sheikah garb given to her as a temporary replacement for her clothes. Vaguely she wondered if any of her old dresses had survived 104 years of the Calamity, rot, and moths, or if her journals were still intact. She doubted it. Even if they had, every once in a while she had sensed people in her cocoon coming by— bold thieves that had made off with most of the valuables in the castle. 

A few times, when the Calamity nearly flared out of her control, Link had appeared. She had felt a flicker in her consciousness, and she had reached for him, but the Calamity was too strong. If she diverted any of her magic towards trying to speak to him, it would overtake her, so she remained silent, watching him leave her, again and again.

As far as she could tell, it was his revenge. She had let him die: him and the other Champions, her father and her family and all of Castle Town— hundreds and hundreds of souls. Maybe that was why he had raised that knife above her head and nearly plunged it into her heart, but she wanted to live, to restore what had been lost. She thrust her arms into her borrowed coat, and strode out of Paya's room. 

"Good morning, Princess," Impa said as Zelda made her way downstairs. When she rounded the corner, Impa gasped. "What did you do to your hair?" 

"It was heavy, so I cut it," Zelda said. "Paya said she knew someone who could make it more even." 

Impa raised an eyebrow at Paya, who returned her look with a passive blink. "Fair enough. How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright. Better than yesterday. Thank you again for the books."

"Anything to help a dear friend," Impa said, managing a smile that wrinkled her face even more. "If it suits you, we could have a luncheon together in a few hours. We must catch up! What do you think?" 

"I couldn't have thought of a better idea myself, Impa," Zelda said, returning the smile with one of her own.

Tears pricked in the old woman's eyes, and she beckoned Zelda closer. "Oh, you," she whispered as Zelda knelt down next to her. "Every time I see you I feel so happy." 

"I do too," Zelda said. "I am sorry it took so long." 

"No, no, don't apologize, you did wonderfully," Impa insisted. "Great Hylia, I still remember when you came here and your powers had awakened. You looked like a fallen star…" 

"It's still very fresh in my mind," Zelda said, her voice quieting. "We have so much to talk about." 

Impa sighed. "But get your hair fixed first. Paya?"

Paya jumped to attention. "Grandmother?" 

"Claree came by. She said she finished the dress and has fitted some traveling clothes for the princess. Make sure she gets them!" 

"Of course." Paya dipped her head in acknowledgment, then opened the door for Zelda to step through.

 Zelda nodded, and obliged, skipping out into the open. "Where should we go first?" 

"I thought we were going to Enchanted," Paya said. "To pick up the clothes, and fix your hair." 

"We could ," Zelda tapped her chin. "But I still did want to explore, and hair takes time...might I borrow your hat?" She pointed at the straw one Paya was wearing. 

"...Alright." Paya untied the hat and handed it to Zelda, who placed it on her own head. "Be careful with it, please." 

"I will use utmost caution while I wear it," Zelda said gravely. Two Sheikah guards were at the bottom of the stairs to Impa's house, idly talking with each other. Interested, Zelda strode down to meet them, Paya in tow.

"You can't just leave a hen injured like that with the flock. The others will peck at the wound," the Sheikah on the right said. He was thinner, with narrower shoulders than the one on the right, and a small beard. "So of course, I had to bring her in, and of course, the wife complained." 

"Did you explain the situation to her?" the guard on the left asked. He towered above the right guard, almost unnaturally tall. With the gruff voice he reminded Zelda of her father. 

"Ah, you see, I was in such a rush when I saw the wound that I didn't," the right guard said, before turning to see Zelda. "Princess! How are you?" 

"Good morning!" Zelda said. "I'm feeling much better, thank you. Wait—" She remembered Impa talking about her guards. "Are you Dorian?" 

The right guard smiled. "Oh, no, I'm Cado. It's my greatest pleasure. Dorian's next to you." 

"Good morning, Princess!" Dorian said. "Going out for a walk?" 

"Mhm! It seems like a good day for it. I was wondering if either of you had any recommendations." 

"The plum garden's nice," Cado said. "You could always visit the inn to see if Master Link is awake, too." 

"Don't leave the village. There's been reports of suspicious activity nearby, and our wards don't extend very far past our borders," Dorian warned. 

"The vegetable fields are always peaceful. We have a very nice statue of Hylia, if you'd like to pray, and I always enjoy looking at the fish there," Paya said quietly. 

"A good idea," Dorian said, nodding. "We could use her protection." 

"I think we should go to the plum grove," Zelda said, taking Paya's hand and tugging on it slightly. "Could you lead me?"

Paya's face turned a slight shade of pink. She pulled her free hand closer to her face, then dropped it back at her side. "Of course, Princess." Striding forward, she headed to her right, tugging Zelda gently along. After a moment, Zelda caught up, and walked by her side, swinging their clasped hands.

"You do look a great deal like your grandmother when she was younger," Zelda said. "Mostly in the face, though your Sheikah eye is a different color. I wonder if you'll become short and wrinkled."

"Well, that is many years away from me," Paya mumbled. She wriggled her hand out of Zelda's. 

"One hundred years isn't so long, if you think about it. It's hardly a few generations. Things change, certainly, but so many other things stay the same." Zelda hummed. "Sheikah clothing, for example. I hardly see a difference." 

"It's tradition," Paya replied, frowning and fidgeting with the end of her coat. "The fabric is comfortable, and we pass clothing down through the family." 

Zelda nodded. "It is very comfortable! I wish I had something like this in my old wardrobe. I will say, I don't understand why everyone wears something so similar, though. It seems like a sort of uniform." 

"It is," Paya said. "Do you not like it?" 

"I do like it," Zelda said. "Sorry to pry. Impa probably would have told me I was being nosy. She scolded me for it sometimes."

Paya flushed again. "Oh. I couldn't imagine her scolding you…" 

"Scolding is slightly harsh," Zelda agreed. "She would say 'Princess, the Sheikah Tribe are a secretive people, and some secrets must be kept safe even from your eyes,' or something like that. It's Sheikah for calling someone horrifically intrusive."

"Sheikah…what?"

"Court speech, Sheikah speech. People didn't always say exactly what they meant, there." 

"I don't understand."

"I suppose you haven't learned how. At..." Home ? Or was it a prison? "...er, the castle, everyone used to speak in implications, padding their words so to speak. Father called it a part of politics. Servants did it as well, to be polite. Confusing, isn't it?" 

"It is," Paya replied miserably. 

"I'm glad you think so." Zelda peered into the distance. "Oh! Is that the plum grove?"

The short trees were planted a few lengths apart in even rows. Their branches had clustered with leaves and a few scattered petals left over from a spring bloom. A fence surrounded them on all sides except for a gate, left mysteriously open and unattended. Without thought, Zelda stepped through, and began examining the first tree she saw. 

"They seem very well-maintained," Zelda said, taking note of the healthy branches and leaves, carefully pruned to make room for the other trees around it. 

"They're over eighty years old," Paya noted. "One of the villagers here takes care of them every day. She usually doesn't like people inside there." 

"Don't worry, I'll step out in a moment." Zelda leaned into one of the remaining flowers and sniffed it. A faint, refreshing sweetness came from the blossom. 

Paya's chest puffed up. "I really think you should step out now ." 

Zelda drew back. "Why?" she asked, before glimpsing an old woman walking towards the grove with gritted teeth and a bloodthirsty gleam in her eyes. 

"Excuse me–" the old woman began, before studying Zelda's face and concluding that she was in fact not Sheikah at all. Her glower melted, and was replaced with astonishment. "You've come to see my plum garden, Princess?"

"Just for a moment," Zelda said, trotting out and shutting the gate behind her. "I'm sorry for trespassing." 

"Oh, no no no, don't worry about it. I'm sure you didn't harm anything. I wish you could have seen them a few months ago, my, the blooms never looked better!" 

Zelda nodded."I have heard you take good care of them." 

"Very." The old woman's eyes flashed with that same vigor from before. "I worry about what will happen to them when I die. Plum blossoms are a symbol of tenacity, you know. It would be a shame to see them neglected by the younger generation." 

"Perhaps, if they can be moved to the castle, I could find someone to take care of them. They would be a beautiful addition to the gardens we used to have. My mother and grandmother were the ones that cultivated it originally! They would have been honored to have such beautiful trees there." Zelda gave her a bright smile. "Thank you for letting me see it." 

The two of them chatted for a few more minutes, the old woman, Mellie, and Zelda both eager to talk about pruning the trees, how Mellie had fought off a dangerous blight a few years ago, and a promise of plum preserves (maybe a little wine from her cellar, too) come harvest time. 

"I suppose I need to leave for now," Zelda admitted as she stepped away from Mellie. "I have my hair to attend to." 

"Your hair?" Mellie asked, squinting at her lopsided locks before her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then she laughed. "Oh, I see. Good luck with that!" 

With that, Zelda said her goodbyes, and began walking down the hill. A few seconds later she realized she had no idea where she was going, and stopped, turning to Paya, who had slipped behind her. 

"You remind me a bit of Link," Zelda said, happily trailing her once Paya took the lead. "You're both very quiet, but I think you might be quieter. Footfall-wise, at least."

"I don't think we have much in common, but if you insist." 

"Only a little," Zelda insisted. "Though you both are very formal, usually, and— do you like animals? Link likes horses, I remember that. Or, well…he used to." Her heart sank as she realized the Link Paya knew was likely a completely different person. All signs seemed to point to it.

Paya paused, contemplating her answer and staring at her feet, before saying "I like cats."

"Cats! They're quite useful animals, and very quiet, too. Once I was frightened by a cat walking down the street because I didn't notice it there." 

Paya nodded. 

"Do you…have you ever scared someone like that before? You seem like you'd be good at it."

"Enchanted is right there." She pointed to a nigh-identical building to the cottages around them, with the exception of a large sign denoting it as a tailor's shop. "Should we go in, Princess?" 

"No need to call me that," Zelda insisted as she made her way to the door. She slid it open, and stepped to one side to let Paya through. 

"Respectfully, I would prefer to," Paya replied, putting one foot over the threshold.

Zelda stared at her. "Why?"

"It's—"

"Welcome to Enchanted, Princess!!" two young Sheikah women shouted at once. The store was simple, filled with looms and various bolts of cloth, and a counter past which Zelda could see various half-finished scraps of clothing. 

Switching her attention to the shop's inhabitants, Zelda smiled and waved. They both had massive grins on their faces, and one rushed up to Zelda with two wrapped parcels in her hands. 

"Here are the clothes! They should fit, but if you have any trouble at all please let me adjust it for you. Even the teensiest bit." 

"Oh!" Zelda accepted the parcels, and pulled the wrapping away on one, revealing the sleeve of a cobalt blue tunic. "Thank you very much." 

"I tried to weave in a few threads that should help them stay waterproof, but I haven't tested it enough to know whether it'll last," the girl said. "By the way, I'm Claree! Lasli is behind you– she doesn't usually disappear like that."

Zelda turned her head back to glimpse Lasli and Paya talking to each other in low voices. When they noticed the other two girls were staring at them, they froze. 

"I was wondering if you could help me with my hair," Zelda asked, raising an eyebrow at the strange behavior of the two girls. 

Lasli tilted her head, and managed a "What happened to it?" before Zelda took off her hat. She blinked, speechless, then maybe too loudly said "I could try something." 

"I am open to whatever you have in mind," Zelda said, hopping up onto the counter and placing her hands, the hat, and the parcels in her lap. 

Both Lasli and Claree slipped behind the counter, tutting and muttering over the state of Zelda's hair. Paya refused to move from her spot near the door.

"It will have to be shorter," Lasli noted as she stroked one of the longer locks. She tapped the nape of Zelda's neck to demonstrate. "Right about there?"

A tingle of excitement ran through Zelda's fingers, making her right hand sting. "Let's try it." 

"Don't worry, it grows back faster than you think." Lasli took a small pair of scissors, then wiped them off on a cloth that she placed on Zelda's shoulders. "How did you cut it like that?" 

"I took one of Paya's swords." 

"That's— um, no wonder! She keeps them very sharp." Lasli's scissors snipped uncomfortably close to Zelda's ears. 

Zelda watched Paya, still in the front corner of the room and playing with a piece of her own hair. "I won't touch them again without permission. I don't know how to use them." 

"I'm sure she'd love to teach you."

"It'd be good to learn how to defend yourself. The Yiga Clan is still at large, as far as we know," Claree added. 

Zelda tried to hold her head in place as Lasli tilted it. "Still…admittedly I thought they would have died out by now." 

"No, they're very dangerous. They attacked Kakariko a year ago— and nearly killed poor Paya," Claree replied.

"Oh." Zelda's voice lowered. "I suppose I should find some way to help myself." 

"Don't worry too much!" Lasli brought a mirror in front of Zelda's face. "How does it look?" 

Now that her hair was evened out, it stopped about half a fingerlength below her ears. It still retained some of its earlier messiness, but it seemed more intentional and regular. Lasli had trimmed her bangs to make them match, but she swept them behind her ear to get a sense of familiarity. Her head had never felt lighter. 

Zelda beamed. "I like it!" 

"Thank you!" Lasli replied. "It's very modern. I've seen a few Hylian girls wearing their hair like that when they pass through here. I think it suits you!"

"Lasli would be very happy to continue cutting your hair whenever you need, Princess. She always keeps up with the latest fashions in everything, so you can rely on her," Claree said. 

Lasli gasped. "Claree!! Don't be so forward!" 

"If you don't take opportunities when they arrive, you won't get far in anything. Besides, think of how proud Grandmother would be if you became the hairdresser of the Royal Family!"

"There are many different roles that need to be filled," Zelda agreed. More than she could think of, probably. Perhaps Impa could help. 

"Excuse me," Paya spoke up from the corner. "Lasli, do you think you can escort the princess back when she's ready to leave? I should begin to work on lunch for her and the chieftain."

Zelda slipped off the countertop. "Actually, I would like to join you, if I may." Food seemed to be a good way to bond with quiet types, from her experience. "You could teach me how to use your swords afterward." 

"...If you want." Paya slid the door open. 

"I'd like to show you around my shop, if that might be more interesting to you," Lasli interjected. 

"Oh! Another time, perhaps?" Zelda said. "I'd imagine I'll be spending a few months here, at the very least." 

Lasli's eyes darted to Paya apologetically, and she gave Zelda a nervous smile. "Whenever you want to stop by is fine! I'm not doing anything special." 

Paya nodded at Lasli, then gestured for Zelda to follow her as she stepped outside. She had never gone more than a few feet from the front door. A hint of confusion crossed Zelda's mind, but she dismissed it, and trotted behind Paya like a lost puppy looking for affection. 

"What are you going to make?" Zelda asked. 

"I'm going to ask Grandmother what she'd like," Paya said simply. She strode across the path, past Dorian and Cado, and into the house. 

Impa sat in her usual place, reading a book with a pair of glasses resting on her nose. As Paya walked in, she took them off to greet her and Zelda. "Done already?" 

"The princess wanted to watch me cook," Paya replied. 

Zelda shrugged. "There will be plenty of time to see Kakariko later, I think." 

"You'd best not disturb her, Princess. Our kitchen is small. Come, sit down. Paya, if you could get her something to sit on–" 

Paya opened a cupboard underneath one of Impa's tapestries and pulled out a wealth of pillows for Zelda to sit on before placing them on the floor next to her grandmother. 

"Yes, thank you, dear. Now–" Impa spread one hand towards the vacant stack of pillows. "sit."

Without any hesitation Zelda plopped herself down onto the pillows. A muffled thud echoed through the room, followed by Paya's feet shuffling out. 

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Impa asked, a hint of hesitation clinging to the end of the phrase. Her hands were clasped together, and she leaned over to hear Zelda's reply. 

"Yes! Kakariko is beautiful. I went to the plum blossom grove. It is quite a shame that I didn't see them in the spring." 

"Ah!" Impa smiled. "I did hope you would see that. I planted them a long time ago. Where else did you go?" 

"Just to see the tailor." 

"You didn't visit Link?" 

Zelda felt her throat go tight. She sighed, and tried to compose herself. "I thought it would be better if I let him be. He seems different."

Impa's face darkened, and her eyes grew distant. "Hmph. I don't blame you. Something's been wrong with that boy for a long time."

The intense feeling shot right back up again, and her arm began to burn. "I know he lost some of his memories, but I was under the impression he regained them."

"It didn't help." 

Zelda frowned. "Why?" 

"I wouldn't know. I was beginning to wonder why the goddess chose him in the first place." 

"He wouldn't have ever acted like this before," Zelda insisted, staring at the tapestries Impa kept on the wall. "He died in my service. Something must have happened– he was so angry, he brandished a knife at me." 

Impa didn't respond. When Zelda turned to her, she saw her face had gone white. 

"Impa?" Zelda asked gently.

"He what." 

Chapter Text

I suppose you plan to return home after this?

A woodsman had called on Link to kill a monster camp near his house. He wasn't sure how long he had been walking, but the forest surrounded him, colored by falling yellow leaves from scattered birches and oaks. "She might want something for breakfast."

Hylia hummed appreciatively.

He strode forward. It was still, other than the sound of his steps. Through the grey branches of a tree's crown, he saw a flock of crows scatter into the air. Curious, he quieted his footfalls and walked closer to where they had flown from. Past bushes stuffed with toothy thorns, he saw the monsters he was looking for. Long, tawny fur pelts hung on their bony frames, with four legs that ended in tiny, delicate hooves that shone like obsidian.

One of them stared at him, with its single eye embedded into the face of a deer. Without hesitation, he nocked an arrow, and pulled back on the drawstring.

  
The creature blinked, eyelids sliding in from the sides.

What are those? Hylia asked.

"Monsters."

Are you sure?

Link frowned. The bowstring pressed hard against his strained fingers. "The old man said they're monsters."

Come now, you're really going to believe in a silly old woodsman? You're a hero, you should know better than to trust common folk.

 He heard a door bang shut. Link shuddered, and blinked himself back into reality. Over the past year, the Shuteye Inn had received some renovations, including an extra room that Link had holed up in. His head felt like it was made of bricks, but afternoon sunlight pouring in from the window told him he had overslept by far too much. Bandages rubbed up against his cheek and his head. Forcing himself up into a sitting position only made his upper body curl over his knees. What had happened to make him this tired, he wasn't sure. Pimm had sewn up a large gash on the back of his head, taken out the stitches on his face, then told him to rest, giving him some of her signature healing potion to help speed up the process. Had his body decided to give out on him?

Whatever. Link peeled his face away from his legs, then slid them down until his feet touched the floor. Blood vessels hammered against the surface of his head, and he felt his eyelids sag shut. Hylia's words from the dream came back to him. If he could conjure up such wild, stupid fantasies in his sleep, he definitely didn't want to close his eyes again. 

Link gripped the small side drawer next to his bed, and used it to steady himself as he stood up. Grabbing his blue tunic, he noted the fresher smell as he pulled it over his head, and the lack of stains. Someone must have slipped in and taken it while he was sleeping. His stomach turned as he realized his slate and the Master Sword were missing, too. 

Someone murmured outside his door. It sounded like Ollie and one of the older men in town. Feeling nosy, he waddled closer to the door, resting his hand gently on it for support.

"...Think I heard him move," the old man whispered.

"Er-- I just checked five minutes ago," Ollie stammered. "Even if he was awake, there's no way it could have worn off by now..."

"I don't know. I don't think he has a reason to fight anyone yet, but we should be careful."

Link heard a knock, and stepped away from the door. Steen poked his head through and gawked at him.

"Oh. Master Link." Steen grimaced. "Good afternoon."

Link grunted, weakly tilting his head up.

"You need to go to the Chieftain's house for a meeting." Steen's words were slow, calculated, like he was talking to a feral animal. "Will you go willingly?"

An inkling of confusion nagged at Link, but he nodded, and walked out of his room. Outside, Ollie watched as Link and Steen left the inn. The innkeeper's eyes were uncharacteristically wide, and he wrung his hands as he stared at Link. Once they exited, the path to Impa's house was no better. Villagers stopped their work to turn their heads towards the former hero and his escort, and, once he passed, glanced away in shame.

When they arrived, Impa's front room was packed with Sheikah. Link had seen village meetings; generally they placed cushions and a short coffee table on the floor, exchanging gossip and drinking tea before Impa began. Today they sat huddled on the floor, dead silent. Dorian sat up and dragged a stool over then gestured for Link to sit. Hatred hung over the Sheikah's face, his dull red eyes glinting with a fire Link had never seen. He promptly sat down.

"Link?" Zelda's voice rung out. She was huddled between Cado and Nanna. "Don't be alarmed. Answer what you can, and everything will be fine."

Before Link could process what she meant, Impa shouted "The meeting is in session!" Hardly necessary, but she did command everyone's attention.
  

"It has been brought to my knowledge that the hero has committed a grave crime," Impa began. "After he completed his mission to assist the princess with defeating Calamity Ganon, he attempted to take her life. She was able to stop him, thankfully, but that does not change the fact that he wanted to murder her."

"It's— well, he tried to save my life right afterwards, so that's hardly fair," Zelda interjected. "He brought me here safely, as well."

"That is true, and he has done a great service. But under such circumstances, even the most loyal soldier or member of the old court would have been executed," Impa said. "Not to mention his careless actions before all this."

Link sniffled loudly. The rest of the room stared at him, tension quietly building. He knew better than to break it.

"Let's start with something specific," Zelda suggested, placing her hands in her lap. "What was the knife you used from? I've never seen anything like it."

"Yiga knife." 

Gasps from the room told Link he had probably said too much already. Though they kept splitting into doubles, Dorian and Impa in particular looked furious.

 "Why were you carrying it?" Zelda asked.

"Took it."

Zelda frowned. "He looks very tired, Impa, are you sure he can answer anything?"

Cado leaned over to whisper something in Zelda's ear. She frowned, and the two began exchanging whispers in frustrated tones. Paya must have heard the commotion coming from the front room, and slipped out of what Link assumed was the kitchen, holding a pot in her hand.

 "The knife doesn't look like a typical Yiga weapon. What happened?" Dorian said.

"Took it." Link shut his eyes.

Dorian sighed. "Did they give it to you?"

"No."

"So you stole it?"

Link nodded.

"What for?"

"Girl kept attacking me, so I took it."

"What girl?"

"Yiga girl. They stole my slate, and I stole her knife."

"It's a wonder they didn't do more," Impa growled. "How did you get the Sheikah Slate back, then."

"Went to their hideout."

"--If he really was in alliance with the Yiga Clan, he would have tried to kill me when we arrived at the shrine near here," Zelda said. "And wouldn't he have left the Calamity to run amok? He has completed his duties. I am not against any punishment for what he has attempted, but we must keep this in mind."
  
  

"And if he does something again?" Impa replied. "He's dangerous. He could destroy a Guardian with a rusty knife and a cooking pot lid, if he wished. He can travel anywhere with the tap of a button, carry thousands of rupees' worth of items in his pockets, and use the gifts of the monks from the shrines he's entered. He attempted to annihilate the entire Yiga Clan, with no regard for how this would affect anyone, and almost succeeded! The right hand of the goddess has always been her strongest, Princess... and if that power is misused, it will only lead to peril."

"Then what would you have me do?" Zelda said. "Kill him? Are we not civilized enough to find another answer?"

"The princess is right," Nanna said. "We should be preventing deaths."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "We may not have a choice."

The villagers began to whisper amongst each other. Link didn't bother listening in. He hung his head, fiddling with a loose patch of skin on his thumb.

Paya raised her hand. "Excuse me."

The discussion became louder as it went on. Cado emphatically waved his arms at Rola, who had placed an arm on Trissa's shoulder, and Olkin argued with Dorian from the other side of the room. Paya kept her hand raised, wincing at the scene. 

Before anyone could object, Zelda stood up. "Everyone!" 

The cacophony stopped. 

"I believe Paya has something to add." Zelda swept her hand over to the Sheikah woman. 

"It's not much– I was just– he could be possessed," Paya said, flushing pink. "It would make sense."

Link stared at her, dizzily trying to understand her logic. Maybe that explained why they hadn't tortured or killed him immediately, other than Moya's desire to know more about the Sheikah Slate. The Goddess was, after all, the one they were truly against. 

Zelda frowned, but nodded. "If you could please elaborate..."

"Well— about spirits?? They're usually not harmful, but if the Yiga made a deal with one, it's possible it could have taken over the hero's body. It would explain the change, and the encounter with the Yiga..."

Zelda's frown deepened, and she tapped her cheek as she mused over the proposition. He noticed then that she used her left hand very naturally; strange, considering Hylia had always used her right.

"I've never heard of the Yiga Clan using such tactics," Impa said. 

Dorian grunted softly. "It's not impossible, though. They do know of spirits. If they managed to find one that would cooperate with them..."

 Impa sighed. "Running around with no guidance from anyone for a year means he's probably picked up who-knows-what."

"Then you'll find someone to exorcise him?" Paya asked. 

"If only to understand what happened," Impa said. "I doubt it's possession, frankly. We'll still need to think of a suitable punishment."

 Zelda nodded. "I suppose we don't have a way to detain him, or a proper judicial system, but we could certainly have him amend for his actions through some service, or find someone to guard him until justice can be enacted. We don't know what caused this... and I mean to find out."

Impa's countenance softened. "You were always so stubborn," she said. "The meeting is dismissed."

The villagers filed out of the room, staying silent as they passed by Link. Dorian offered to help Steen escort him back to the inn, but Steen seemed confident now, and refused. When everyone had left, the old man shook Link's shoulder. Link stood, obediently ambling in whatever direction Steen led him in like a muzzled ox. He didn't bother looking up as he was walked back.

Steen shoved Link into his room, making him stumble forward. He turned around and heard the rattle and click of a padlock.  Someone had torn through the room, rooting through sheets and ripping open the side drawer. The window had a small slip of paper slapped on, with runes scrawled across it in ink. Link sucked in a breath-- the air reeked of burnt herbs and incense. 

He sat down on the bed, and let his mind wander into nothingness for a moment. The birds from earlier were still singing near the window. Link looked up, and saw the glint of sunlight on a glass bottle sitting on the side drawer. "Take your medicine," Pimm had written on a note below it. 

Steen and Ollie's conversation earlier began to make sense. Link picked up the drugged potion, turning it around in the light. It looked like it had healing properties still, but he didn't want to drink it. He'd never humor them again.

Link glanced at the door. He had to stay vigilant, or they'd slip into his room again, but the drug made it difficult to keep his eyes open. Carefully, he dragged the side drawer over to the door, and propped it against it. It made a loud, grating noise as it scraped across the floor— he was certain it was loud enough to wake him up if the drawer was disturbed. 

Still, it hardly left him satisfied. He limped back to bed, propped himself up against the headboard, and stared at the door, straining his ears for the sound of anyone coming closer. Everything felt still-- a summer afternoon holding its breath. Sunlight radiated from the window, shifting in the glass as it warmed his back. Link tossed his head as his eyes began to shut again. Ollie had lent him some books for his stay here, now laid at the foot of his bed. He took the one at the top of the stack and opened it. 

Chapter Text

Link woke up again in the evening with a start. The drawer had been left in its place, and after a quick look over the room, nothing had been rummaged through or taken. He relaxed, and looked down at the book still in his hands.

Pests

The gourd's delicious fruit is coveted by many a creature, including some of the more…unsavory beasts that walk the earth. The stripe-tailed slug preys upon bottle squash especially, devouring their leaves and vines like a calamitous blight. The shining power to repel this slugly darkness? Seaweed! Slugs despise the stuff, so a heavy coating of dried seaweed (see instructions on pg. 162) will drive them away.

Illustrated below the text was a sketch of the slug, dark clouds billowing around it. Link grimaced, and turned the page to find another picture of brutish aphids poking at two innocent acorn squash with spears. It seemed so out of touch. Could even an ignorant villager make such comparisons these days? Still, he continued to read, flipping through tips and fanciful illustrations. 

The window rattled. Link's eye caught the edge of a shadow crossing it. Sets of spindly legs softly crawled away, paired with a segmented body easily as thick as his arm. He scrabbled towards the window, and turned his head to watch it. 

It stopped, inclining its round head towards him, antennae twitching nervously. Fifteen segments, with venomous pincers at its head and empty eyes: the creature was no doubt a kind of centipede. Two red streaks trailed down its body, and its body rippled to a familiar beat, its legs tapping the outer wall as they shone in the moonlight. 

Badump.

Zelda put her breakfast tray down on the floor, placing her utensils on her plate for collection by Paya. After the village meeting, a day or so passed without incident. She had met more of the villagers, all enthusiastic about meeting her and happy to tell her about their daily lives. Pimm, with her house on the nearby cliffs, had an extensive herb garden and a bubbling cauldron that reminded her of stories of friendly witches and their apprentices. The innkeeper, Ollie, gave her maps that detailed the routes that mail took through various roads in Hyrule, a few of which she didn't recognize, and enthusiastically told her about Hyrule's new mailing system. An ache filled her chest when they spoke to her of their futures. The threads they gave her weren't enough to weave into the vision she saw of her path forward. It was still too strange.

In such circumstances, she always set herself to work. One evening, when Ollie told her he was asleep, she went to check on Link's accommodations.

"I don't know," Ollie mumbled as he trailed her up the inn's stairs. "He, uh. He's a light sleeper."

"I just want to look," Zelda insisted. "You understand, I— well, I do mostly trust you, but—" she stopped herself. Cado telling him they had drugged him for her safety had unsettled her. 

"Only a look," she repeated, as she stepped aside and let Ollie unlock the door, sliding back in when he was done. 

The room was clean and furnished comfortably from the sliver she could see. Link slept in a regular bed, curled up in a fetal position with his head turned away. She could see his body rise and fall with his breathing, and a chill of relief ran through her, her right hand stinging with the sudden emotion. A rank smell wafted into her nose, and she looked down to see Link had put a waste pot near the door. 

Zelda stepped forward, pushing the door further. Something clattered to the floor outside of her vision. Link shot up. Old scars riddled his bare torso, his golden eyes glinting in the lantern light from outside the room. He clenched a glass bottle in one hand, holding it up, but his arm relaxed slowly, and he stared at Zelda with an expression she couldn't read. 

She decided she had had enough of that, despite her worries. Ollie later happily reported that Link had given up on threatening to throw things at him. 

Now, Zelda thought she heard something downstairs. Dorian's booming voice exchanged words with someone she didn't recognize.  Walking out the door, she began a quiet descent from the top floor of Impa's house.

"It's just a little jarring, that's all. I can work with it."

"I understand," Dorian replied. "It's hard, when it's someone you put faith in."

Zelda found herself in a shifted version of the chieftain's room. Impa now sat near the center of the left wall, propped up by her usual pillows as she watched Dorian, Link, and a Hylian newcomer. 

Impa noticed her first. "Ah, princess! Do you need something to read?" 

"Oh, no, I was just wondering what was happening downstairs."

The newcomer turned around. She was a young woman, with bright eyes and brown hair tied up in a messy bun. Her mouth stayed open until Impa intervened.

"I apologize for not telling you, Celessa, dear. We're in the presence of royalty."

The young woman's cheeks burned red, and she dove into a kneel. "I'm so sorry! I must have looked ridiculous, just— I— I admire you! Deeply! Thank you for everything you've done for Hyrule! I've studied your journeys quite extensively, all the way up to Mount Lanayru! It was a deeply spiritual experience, I saw a vision of a dragon there— it was what inspired me to— and that's why Lady Impa— perhaps we were destined to meet!"

"I'm sure she appreciates it, but please, don't overwhelm her with your ballyhoo." Impa tried to hide the grin on her face by grabbing a handkerchief and wiping her nose. 

"Do you need me to stay here?" Dorian asked. 

"That would be preferable. Celessa is going to be exorcising the hero today, princess."

"I could watch," Zelda said. 

Impa's faint smile turned into a subtle grimace. "I don't imagine it will be terribly interesting."

"She really wants to watch me?" Celessa said. "I'll make it interesting, if I have to! Anything!"

Dorian cleared his throat. "I think Lady Impa would prefer it if—"

Impa sighed. "He's capable of some restraint. I would prefer it if the princess stood back, though." 

"Oh! Oh, yes, sorry." Celessa shut her mouth and sat on the floor, crossing her legs. 

Dorian nudged Link forward. The hero mouthed something like "cut your ears off" before taking two steps forward and plopping down. He snorted like an overgrown two-year old, blowing strands of stringy blond hair out of his face. 

"...You definitely weren't joking," Celessa muttered. "So, um, are there...any specific behaviors you've noticed that seem unusual?"

"My granddaughter believes the Yiga Clan may have inflicted a spirit on him," Impa said. "I want to ease her mind, as well as the princess's."

"That does narrow it down some." Celessa's fingers twitched, and she looked between the large tome she had in her hands and Zelda. "But, of course, there are many spirits that could have made a bargain with the Yiga Clan. Wolf spirits, bear spirits, Keatons, dog spirits, even a malicious ghost, if they managed to summon it."

"Well, he called me 'Your Grace…'" Zelda turned to Link. Once he saw her watching him, he stared back. 

"Like the Goddess?" Impa asked. 

"What spirits would recognize such a thing, though," Celessa mused, finally taking out her book and flipping through pages. "I've heard of monster souls being displaced during the Blood Moon. That seems likely." 

"No, that only would have made sense if he reacted to Blood Moons. Besides—"

"Didn't the castle contain Calamity Ganon? Surely it would have had a lot of power there. It may have the same effect." Celessa looked to Zelda. 

"Perhaps? I don't think that quite makes sense," Zelda said. "He only attacked me after the Calamity was sealed."

"Maybe whatever it was could be trying to take its revenge on you!" Celessa exclaimed. 

"I would prefer it if we didn't speculate too much. I suggest we start with a simple prayer ritual. That should at least weaken any potential spirit," Impa said. 

Celessa's shoulders sank, but she quickly sat up again. "I suppose that's not a bad idea," she said. "After all, we have practically a sage here, in the flesh!"

"In a way, in a way. Her powers have waned since the Calamity's defeat, but she is capable of great spiritual power." 

"And Hylia is legendary for her ability to seal away demons!" Celessa added cheerfully. 

Zelda's eyebrows bunched together, and she gave Celessa a lopsided smile. "I always thought it was more magic in the family than any goddess, but I'll see if I can do anything." She took a step forward, but the entire room was staring at her. Her right hand began to itch, and she squeezed it, a stab of pain to relieve the far more irritating sensation. 

"What do you mean?" Celessa asked.

"...It isn't complicated," Zelda said. "I simply don't think Hylia exists."

"But— then why would you pray to her?" Celessa's tone barely masked her irritation. 

Zelda tilted her head. "I believe it provides a benefit to the body and mind, but I doubt it was the true cause of any power." 

"Don't you think not believing would affect it??"

Zelda made her way across the room, stopping a few feet away from Link. "I'm capable of completing whatever you require of me, I assure you." 

"Indeed," Impa finally said. "We have nothing to worry about." Dorian rushed to Impa's side as she took her cane and stood up, steadying herself on his arm until she began to walk towards the door of her own accord. Celessa likewise tucked her book under her arm and left behind Impa, and Zelda followed. They were going to the statue of Hylia, she assumed. The weathered stone figure resembled all the others she had seen, with various ornaments and offerings adorning it and the little pond it stood in. Religion, it seemed, had not changed much since the fall of the kingdom. The three women moved to the side of the platform as Dorian walked Link to the edge, and stepped away. 

Celessa opened her book again, studying the words before placing the book on the ground and clasping her hands together. "I'll begin, and you can all repeat after me."

"O Hylia, sealing sun. Your guardianship is gracious upon the green fields of our land. Lo,  your watchful eye has slackened, and one of your people has fallen into darkness. Purify him! Expel the darkness from his heart."

They repeated the prayer, over and over, until it became meaningless vowels and rhythm. Zelda's head grew heavy. She remembered, faintly, when her mother had taken her to the cathedral in Castle Town, the priestesses dancing and chanting to a similar tune as she drifted off, no cold water or insects buzzing in her ears to keep her awake.

"Her Grace won't listen to you."

Zelda opened her eyes and stared directly at Link's face. "Excuse me?"

"I said what I said."

"What an odd statement coming from the hero who failed her descendant," Impa said, cooly. Link rolled his eyes, and turned away.

"I'm sure I felt her presence here," Celessa insisted. "She must be working, if he's bringing her up like that. Should we continue?"

Zelda struggled to swallow the lump forming in her throat. "I don't know."

"If you're tired, we should go back," Impa said. "Don't overexert yourself."

They walked back to the chieftain's house, though Dorian split off with Link to return him to his room. Impa chatted with Celessa, offering her several of her herbal teas to try before Celessa finally decided that she would have as many as Impa would allow for. 

"Princess, would you like some rosehip tea? Or— maybe some lavender, if you'd prefer." Impa shoved the door to her house open, and stepped aside for Celessa and Zelda to enter. 

"I'm too full for tea," Zelda replied. "I think I'll go upstairs, thank you."

When she arrived in Paya's room she grabbed a book and collapsed onto the bed. She needed to read something to take her mind off the pit that was forming in her chest. 

"I think the princess fell asleep during the ritual," the muffled voice of Celessa said. "Maybe if she had stayed awake—"

"You said you felt a presence, didn't you?" Impa asked. "Then whatever needs to be done will be done." 

"I guess I'm just surprised."

"What is there to be surprised about? Is she not allowed to think as she likes?" Impa said. 

"Of course! But-- I don't know, it's so strange."

"It's always strange. When I was your age, and I met her for the first time, I was the same. You must remember that even the greatest among us are still human."

Zelda huffed, and sat up, leaning over her book and squinting at the words in an attempt to concentrate. She wished she hadn't gone downstairs at all.

When Link was led back into his room, it was tidier than he remembered, with a tray of food on the bed. He grumbled, and sat down. The meal smelled good, at least: pumpkin soup with nut bread, a big, red apple and rice pudding for dessert was nothing to turn his nose up at. They hadn't noticed he wasn't drugged, from what he could tell, but Pimm hadn't included any healing concoctions yet. He stuck his finger in the pudding, and sniffed it, like he could tell what sleeping powder they put in the potion was and how it smelled. Then he stuck his finger in his mouth, savoring the sweetness. A little taste of the pudding and soup would probably be safe, and he didn't know how they'd drug the apple or bread. Hungrily, he swallowed the bread in three quick bites, then reached for the apple— only to see an empty spot on the tray where it had sat. 

Link heard a giggle, and his attention shot to a whirling collection of leaves on the floor. He lunged off the bed, slamming into the ground with a loud thud as he reached for the leaves, already dancing out of his hands. Gritting his teeth he forced himself forward. A korok appeared in his hands, dropping the apple. It rolled away under the bed as the spirit squirmed in his grasp. 

"Gotcha," Link said. "Don't steal from me again."

"You weren't eating it!" the korok whined. 

"Mine," Link said, putting the korok down and grabbing the apple. He brought it up to his mouth and took a big, spiteful bite of it, crunching loudly to get his point across. 

"Mr. Hero is so mean," the korok said, plopping down onto the floor and lowering its head. 

Link rolled his eyes. He took the apple and split it into pieces with his hands, then offered the korok a little chunk. It swiped the food and began to nibble on it. 

"Why are you in here?" Link asked, helping himself to more apple. 

"I wanted to see if Ollie remembered me." 

"Ollie is too old to remember," Link said. 

"But you do, so—"

"It is different for me. You should listen more carefully to the Deku Tree." 

"He didn't say anything about you being that kind of special," the korok retorted. 

"Grown-ups cannot see you. They will forget you." As he ate, he felt a seed with his tongue, and spit it out into his hand. "...Want a seed?"

"Okay." The korok took the seed, admiring its smooth surface. "This is a nice seed! Where d'you want me to plant it?"

"I don't care."

"But it's your seed."

"Will I enjoy watching it grow? Will I be alive to see its spreading branches?"

The korok tilted its head. "Hylians live a while. You don't look like an old Hylian." 

"I feel old." He really didn't know how long he would live, or even if he wanted to live long enough to see a tree grow. It seemed like an eternity. "I wish I was a spirit."

"Huh?" 

Link sighed, and gave the korok another piece of apple. "Being forgotten is a blessing."

"Hmph. That's dumb."

"Think what you like." Link paused. "You could play with some of the kids here."

"I tried , they couldn't see me!" 

Link frowned. He gave the last two bites of apple to the korok, and stared out the window from his seat on the floor. "If you must talk to someone, I have a question."

The korok leaned in. 

"I saw a very big centipede a few nights ago." Link spread his arms out to demonstrate the size. "It looked like the legs I saw on Malice."

"Huh!?!" it gasped. "The Deku Tree thought..." 

"Thought what?"

 "Are you really, really sure it was a centipede? Are your eyes okay? Wasn't it dark? Hylians can't see in the dark."

"It was a centipede."

The little korok gave him such an intense look with its mask that Link went pale. "I need to go home." In a burst of pollen and smoke, a giant clover popped out of the korok's nubby arm, and it floated off the ground and towards the window. 

Link stood up. "What does that mean!?" he demanded. "Was it a demon?"

"Ye— it's hard to explain!" It vanished in a burst of leaves, then reappeared outside. "Don't let it find you again!"

(A/N 2025: staring doodle. boy he sure likes staring)

Chapter Text

Link's cane clattered on the floor. 

"How'd you climb this to get out?"

  
"I didn't. We had scaffolding and stairs set up back then." Purah's head poked out from behind the ledge, followed by the rest of her body. She leaned over the rock wall, then jumped down with a grunt. Her eyes flicked over to the cane. "Isn't that Impa's?" 

Link nodded, and dropped down. His leg slipped as his feet hit the floor, and he fell to his knees. "Ow."

"Noted! Shrine of Resurrection Test Five: subject is incredibly careless with himself and the property of others," Purah said. She picked up the cane, and walked to Link, holding her hand out for him to grasp as he stood himself up again. 

"You're so mean to me," Link joked. She did her duty, so he couldn't complain much.

"Someone has to be," Purah said, striking a little pose. "Can I have the slate for a moment?" 

Link placed the Sheikah Slate in her hands, exchanging them for the cane as they walked into the main chamber of the Shrine of Resurrection. It was as it had been: damp, the air vibrating with ancient energy. The top of the resuscitation capsule shimmered with the same power that floated through the air in tiny flecks, but he saw tendrils of gold pass through its glowing chambers. He squinted at them. They hadn't been there last time. 

"Everything looks stable," Purah said, tapping away on the Sheikah Slate's screen. "Setup shouldn't be difficult. Go ahead and take your clothes off." 

Sitting on the floor, Link kicked his boots away and began pulling his tunic off. Once he was finished with his clothes, he folded them and placed them against the side of the chamber. 

"Are you serious."

"Huh?" Link looked back at Purah. 

"You're still wearing those old boxers I gave you? They're fraying at the end."

Link stuck his tongue out at her, and crawled into the resuscitation capsule. It was just as hard and uninviting as he remembered. The cold blue light glared against his eyes, and the stone propping his head up pressed into the nape of his neck. This place was never meant for the living. He took a long, deep breath, and closed his eyes. Just a little longer, and he would be back to normal, back on his feet, back to helping people. 

Freezing water rushed around his ears, clumping into a strange, jellylike substance that wrapped around his body. The room rumbled as the top half of the capsule closed in on him. Link squeezed his eyes shut even more tightly. His chest locked up, and his hands closed into fists. Just another hour. 

"Alrighty, final steps done! It'll knock you out in three…two…"

White pillars hung over his head, stretching into the dark sky. It couldn't have been night. The sun stood there alongside them, golden hair flowing down like beams of light. 

Link backpedaled, water sloshing against his ankles as he shaded his eyes with one hand. He glanced down at his leg, for some reason no longer twisted.

"Link…it has been so long since we last met face to face."

He gawked at her. Her white dress shimmered as she moved, and her voice was soft, familiar. 

"Don't you have anything to say?" 

His foot caught on something, and he fell back. Ripples from the pool expanded out, reaching her feet. "Who are you?" His voice felt hoarse. 

She sighed. "I always forget your type isn't meant to be clever. Link, please, don't you recognize me?" 

Link crawled back further. Her figure looked exactly as he remembered Zelda's. "Where are we?"

"Stubborn as always." She knelt down. "You're in a dream. Tell me if you remember who I am." 

Link shook his head. 

"It's me," she said, distress cracking her voice. As she ran towards him, clutching her skirts in one hand, she shrank to the size of a human, then hurled herself down onto her knees next to him. Before he could protest, she clasped her hands around his. Her smooth, warm fingers fell into the spaces between his own. "I thought the memories would burden you, but surely you've gotten the ones you need back now. It should have been enough— it should have done something." 

He yanked his hand away. She yelped in protest, scrabbling forward as he backed up. Once he had made it a few lengths away he stood up, watching her with cold eyes. Disgust bubbled in his chest.

"Faithful knights bow to their princesses," she said. 

"I'm not your knight. You're not Zelda. Leave me alone, demon."

Her head snapped up, still bright. "What makes you think such blasphemous things?" 

Link turned around, and began to walk away. He'd find a place where the dream ended.

"Where are you going?" she shouted. He didn't answer. 

"Link, I must talk to you. I don't understand why you've abandoned me— are you even listening!?" 

His ear twitched, but he didn't turn to her or reply. 

Something rumbled, and he heard a loud splash. Link broke into a run. He felt a cold wind against his face, a rush of energy— 

A golden claw pierced through his chest, and his legs buckled. It didn't hurt at first. Even the pressure against his breastbone as she lifted him off the ground felt stronger than the pain. 

"All I was going to do was tell you that I'm waiting," she said. "I miss you." 

He looked down at the claw through his chest. "I'm here," he said quietly. "Why do you miss me?" 

"Don't you feel alone?" she asked. "Doesn't it feel like something in you is missing, empty, waiting to be filled with  love? Something always draws us back together, Link, and it is that emptiness we feel without each  other, that hole in our breasts that never fills without the other's smile." 

Link did feel alone, sometimes. The burning sensation from the claw flared up as he tried to pull himself off it. "Yes," he blurted out. "Let me go."

"Ah, so you're a liar, too." 

"No. I'll rescue you, I promise." 

"Liar." 

"I'm not lying!" 

"Why can't you admit to anything you've done!? I see why you've tarried. You don't want anyone to stop you from being an undisciplined wretch, doing whatever he pleases while the world suffers and dies. The goddess Hylia sees through you." 

"Hylia? I'm sorry." 

"You called me a demon!" 

"I'm sorry, okay!? Why won't you believe me! I thought you were helping me!" he yelled.

"I am helping you! I'm still helping you!" 

"Then let me go! Now!" 

"STOP SHOUTING!" She slammed him into the floor.

 Link screamed, thrashing in the water as he tried to pull away, but the claw pinned him down. Her other hand grasped his neck and body as she yanked her claw out, and turned him around in her hand. He scratched against her grip, digging his nails into the hard flesh of her claws. She didn't move. His scratching slowed, then stopped.

"I wish it didn't have to come to this," Hylia said, "but it's clear to me that you are in need of direction. This is for your own sake. Do you understand?" 

His head jolted. Golden threads passed before his eyes, some like cords, some like spiderwebs. Hylia murmured things to him, her light flickering and fading until it finally burned out.

—

Sunlight shone onto Link's table as he opened the door, revealing a thin layer of dust on the wood. 

"It's, uh, very tidy," Cado said behind Link. He cleared his throat. "Take out anything you'd like from the Sheikah Slate."

After a few more days of debate, Kakariko and the princess had finally agreed to let Link go home, under certain conditions. One, he would not be allowed use of the slate without permission. Two, he would have to stay in Hateno and be monitored. 

Three, when the origin of the Malice around the castle was identified, he was expected to stand alongside the princess and assist her in defeating it. He hadn't told them he wasn't the hero anymore, and he was glad of that, for sure. The centipede demon had remained his secret as well, despite his suspicions, though he planned on asking any spirit he saw about it. 

He unclipped the slate from his belt, and began browsing through his clothes. Tapping on his Flamebreaker Helmet, he tipped the slate over, and let the headpiece fall to the floor with a loud clunk. 

"Mind if I sit down?" Cado asked, meandering over to a stool near the table. 

Link pretended not to hear him, and let the Flamebreaker Armor and boots drop with an even louder noise. 

Too preoccupied with Sheikah politeness to just do as he liked, Cado stood there and continued his annoying spiel. "Purah and Symin should be here soon."

Link couldn't find anything that would make a clatter as loud as the Flamebreaker set amongst his remaining clothes, so he had to settle for the sound of the Rubber Helmet bouncing off it. 

After unloading all of his clothes onto the floor, he noticed that most of them were filthy from use. Link moved on to his weapons, pulling out a stack of swords and putting them on the table, savoring Cado's flinch. He flipped to the materials screen, and immediately realized that he couldn't take all of this out in his house. 

"I need to sell some things," Link said, putting the slate back on his hip and walking out the door. Cado quickly followed after him. 

As the two walked down to the general store, a turret accosted them, beeping and demanding they identify themselves. Link ducked down into the turret's eye, letting it scan him wordlessly. 

"Did Purah build this?" Cado asked. 

Link shrugged, gesturing for Cado to come closer to the turret so it could identify him. The man obliged, imitating Link and staring into its eye. 

"A NEWCOMER TO HATENO VILLAGE. REQUESTING MANUAL ANALYSIS," it blared.

Cado raised an eyebrow, and tapped on the turret's head. It beeped at him in annoyance. 

"WELCOME TO HATENO, CADO."  

"Funny little thing," Cado said as he and Link walked past the turret and towards the general store. "They really have made themselves at home here."

Link shook his head. 

"What?"

Rolling his eyes moodily, Link opened the door to the general store. The store's clerk, Pruce, greeted them, and Link nodded, pulling out a few gems he had yet to sell from his slate, fleet-lotus seeds and several dozen flowers he couldn't see himself using. 

"Thank you very much! I'll hang these up to dry. Who's your friend, by the way?" the clerk asked, sliding rupees across the table to Link. 

"Not a friend."

"Just passing through," Cado said. 

Link moved on to the fruit and vegetables. With this many apples, he was going to need more room on the counter, but he trusted Pruce would move them out of the way as he went. He took them out, five at a time, stacking them carefully so they didn't roll away and fall. Then he moved on to the wildberries, voltfruit and hydromelon, peppers and rice and mighty bananas. 

"Barrels and jars!" Pruce said. "I'll have to order some. These will make some fine preserves."

Link set a stack of five pumpkins on the table. He had twenty-five in total he wanted to sell, with one left over for lunch. 

"More?" Pruce said. "I'll see what I can do..." 

Pruce was clearly running out of space behind the counter, scrabbling around as Link dumped more and more produce there. Cado rushed over to Pruce's aid, helping him stack pumpkins and hydromelons on the ground as the man gave Link even more money. Food covered the back wall, all neatly stacked by Cado and the clerk-- now, they were working on a second layer. 

"Link, that's enough," Cado said, trying to balance a pumpkin. "Sorry sir."

Link scowled. "I have more."

"It keeps in there, doesn't it? Ask Purah if you can have it later." 

Link grumbled, and put the slate back on his hip, holding his lunch pumpkin under one arm. 

"Thank you for the help! And for the food!" Pruce called out as Cado and Link left the store. Neither of them said anything in reply. 

They walked back towards the house, the turret beeping at them in greeting as they went past. Two people were leaning against the front wall of his house, silently waiting for him. It was Purah and Symin, of course. 

"Master Cado!" Symin leaned forward when he saw both of them, and waved. Cado didn't wave back, but he did quicken his pace, jogging ahead to embrace Symin and gently touch foreheads with him— the traditional greeting for Sheikah. Cado added to tradition by giving Symin an extra slap on the back as he pulled away. "Is Director Purah treating you well?"

"Yeah, he keeps messing up my stuff though," Purah said. 

"Director—" Symin sighed. "Yes. We're thinking of a way to organize the lab that makes us both happy now." 

"It's mostly for his sake," Purah said. 

"How was your journey?" 

"Quick," Cado said. "Is traveling by slate supposed to make you feel queasy…?" 

"That's a common side effect," Purah said. "Hopefully we'll get some more insight into it once Mister Criminal Man gives it up for research. Speaking of—" 

The three of them turned to Link. He huffed through his nose. 

"No trouble on the way here, either?" Symin asked. 

"He's been as well-behaved as he can manage," Cado said. "Master Link, give Director Purah the slate, please."

Not an hour with it and he had to give it up. He unclipped it from his belt, and held it out for Purah to take. Despite rolling on her heels with excitement, Purah took it with a slow nod, and attached it to her own belt. 

"He can request things from it, correct?" Cado asked. "He wasn't able to sell everything he wanted." 

"If we're not testing on it," Purah said. "We should discuss what we're doing, too. Link?"

Link grunted. 

"I'll give you a heads-up on what will happen and what we expect from you." Purah placed one hand on her hip. "Impa and the princess wanted to make sure you were sufficiently monitored, but you had a reasonable amount of freedom to do as you please. With that in mind! Symin and I have decided to install a camera in your house."

Link's expression didn't change. He looked briefly off to one side, towards his front door, then stared at the ground. 

Purah paused, fidgeting with the end of her coat. "It's just for now. I have a hypothesis about the Hero's Path mode that I think could lead to something later." She took a deep breath. "Sigh. Anyway! Symin and I will check in periodically. We expect you to stay around the area, and be inside at least once per twenty-four hour day. That limits you to a range of about the distance from Dueling Peaks to here, in a circle." 

"You get two strikes before we reduce the range, and we will be telling the chieftain about any issues," Symin added.  "The director and I think that sounds generous."

Link nodded. He knew he shouldn't expect much.

"Alright, then, that's settled," Purah said. "Symin, let's get to work." 

Purah led the way inside, and Symin followed. Cado took a step forward, then hesitated, glancing back at Link, but relaxed after he saw Link adjusting one of his bracers like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. He rushed in after Symin. 

Link stood there for about a minute, staring into the sky without a thought. Then he turned around and walked to the back of his house, placing his pumpkin off to one side. Lunch could wait until Cado, Symin, and Purah had left. His garden had weeds. He took a hoe the Yiga had snapped in half earlier lying on the ground, dropped to his knees, and began digging around a large piece of crabgrass. 

It felt too quiet. Link hit the ground harder with the hoe, making a heavy, repetitive thud against the soil. The noise was calming, but his stomach still churned. Once the roots loosened, he pulled out the crabgrass and tossed it to one side, then crawled over to the next weed. 

He heard a rustle in the foliage beyond the garden. His ears pricked, and he fell still, pinpointing its source to a patch of bushes a few paces away. Orange-patterned fur lay hidden in the leaves, and a tawny tailtip flicked just outside the bush's cover. 

"Cat?" Link blurted out. 

The cat, hearing acknowledgment of its presence, stalked away. Link stood up and took a few steps towards the cat. It vanished into the grass. 

"Where's the cat?" Purah said behind him.

Link snorted, and ambled back over to the garden. "Gone." How long had she been behind him?

"Small, brownish-orange one?" 

Link nodded. 

"I think it's the mayor's. It likes to wander." Purah adjusted her glasses. "We haven't talked in a year." 

Link crouched back down, plucking up a dandelion. "I thought you didn't want to talk to me." 

"I didn't. Now I do."

"Why are you talking to me now?" 

"I'm curious," Purah said, shrugging. "Why did you try to kill the princess?" 

Link fell silent. He plucked a blade of grass, and twisted it in between his fingers. 

Purah didn't move, but she didn't demand answers. She stared at him for a few seconds, and they locked eyes, but Purah glanced away after a moment to swat at a gnat. He watched a trail of ants making their way through the dirt. Silence hung over them, like spiderwebs trembling in a breeze. 

Link snapped the grass blade in half. "Will you keep it a secret?" 

"Yes."  

"I didn't want to serve her anymore." 

Purah's flat expression quickly flashed between surprise, confusion, and annoyance before finally settling down. "Couldn't you have talked to her about it after you saved her?"

Link frowned. "No."

"Why not?"

"What if you talked to her about it?" 

Purah's face finally settled on annoyance. "Your relationship with her is different from mine." 

"She is different now."

"Why would she be different? You said you were friends."

"I am bound to her. That is not friendship."

"When you're bound together you aren't inherently friends, no, but it's a natural thing to want to become friends. I think you cared about each other. Zelda still cares about you, too."

"Why would I be friends with someone who held my chain?" 

"You sound like a Yiga clan member, Link."

Link glanced down at the dirt, nostrils flared, holding his tongue lest he incriminate himself more. So what if he did? They could be right about something, couldn't they? "You should understand."

Purah snorted. "I doubt it, but if I really should, then teach me." 

"You know your place in this pattern. That is why you stay in the lab." 

"What?"

"You never come down from there unless you have to."

"True, but that's not why. It's difficult to interact with regular Hylians sometimes. That's all."

Link sniffed. "You think they're beneath you. Just like you thought I was." 

"That is not why I stopped talking to you." Purah crossed her arms. "Stop guessing people's motives." 

"Then tell me what I did," Link said coldly.

"It was the attack on Kakariko you incited. I decided it would be better for me to leave you alone." She sucked in a breath, eyes glancing somewhere off into the distance. "I don't think that was the best course of action now." 

"Robbie didn't leave me alone." 

"He wanted to play mediator. You didn't go to him, did you? He never said anything about it." 

"Why would I? You're a spineless servant waiting for guidance from someone who doesn't care about you," Link snapped. "She doesn't care about you. She treats everyone like garbage!" 

Purah stared at him, tilting her head. She stayed oddly calm, but a spark of anger flickered in her eyes. "Spineless? Really."

"Everyone abandoned me." 

"They were grieving."

"So was I! They didn't even— they told me— I thought she was dead, and they didn't say anything!" 

Purah relaxed, and knelt down on the ground. "Who?" 

Why wasn't she more upset? He wasn't sure what welled up inside him now, but he held it back, more out of confusion than self-restraint. "Paya." 

Purah's head tilted again. "No one told you she was okay?"

Link stared at her in mute astonishment for several seconds, before shaking his head. 

"What a mess," Purah groaned. "I wanted to apologize for not checking on you. Maybe things could have been different, but you need to stop thinking that way about people. No one here wants to hurt you." 

"...But they did."

Purah looked away, parting her lips to reply, but nothing came. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, before placing her arms on her knees. "I'll make it up to you."

"What could you do." 

"You don't have many people to talk to, do you?" Purah shrugged. "I know what it's like to feel alone."

A part of him wanted to lash out and say she could never understand. But he was desperate enough, this time, to nod slowly and turn his head away. 

"So, if you're ever feeling empty and miserable, you can always stop by the lab for a bite to eat. It's the least I can do."

"Thank you," Link said quietly. "I am sorry for calling you spineless." 

"I've heard worse things, but don't do that again."

"I will not." 

They both stared at the pond, watching the ducks dive into the water and pop back up, shaking their little bills as they ate their catches. 

It was quiet enough that Link could hear his stomach rumble. "May I have my slate?" 

"What do you need from it?" Purah asked.

"Ingredients for lunch." 

Satisfied with this answer, Purah handed it off. He pulled out some flint, meat, his chopping board, skewers he had whittled a while ago, a cooking knife, and a bottle of Goron spice. 

Purah took the slate back. "You didn't pull those out earlier?" 

"They are for traveling. I will put them back when I am done." He trotted to the cooking pot, heaving it off and placing it to one side. The wood under the cooking pot still looked good. Then he pulled up some dry grass, stuffed it around the edges of the wood with a few extra sticks, and lit it. 

"You can go inside." 

"I don't want to," Link replied, cutting into his lunch pumpkin to remove the stem, and chopping the rest up into chunks.

Purah watched him, disinterested, but not enough to leave. When he had gone to the lab in the past, she and Symin took turns cooking, but neither of them seemed invested in it. Still, they would always offer if they had anything, and prod him about how all their research funding was going into feeding the hero as he gobbled down a plate of rice balls. Link placed chunks of meat and pumpkin on the skewer, and seasoned them liberally with Goron spice before sticking the skewer over the fire. 

The least he could do was be polite to the one that had promised him food. "Skewer?" Link offered the finished one to Purah.

Purah leaned forward in interest, then pulled back. Link frowned, and held it out further before Purah shook her head. 

"You don't want it?" Link asked. 

"No, thanks. I don't like skewers. It smells good, though." 

He could not understand her at all. First the way she behaved during the argument, and now refusing good food? Link shrugged, and dug into the skewer. The meat was juicy, with a crisp exterior and tender interior, complimenting the mouthfeel of the soft but not mushy pumpkin. 
  

They sat in silence again, until Symin and Cado left the house, chatting with one another about something Link didn't bother to tune into. 

"I should go," Purah said, brushing her skirt off. 

Link dragged the last piece of meat off his second skewer. He raised his hand, and waved at her. "Thank you." 

"You're very welcome, Linky." Purah smiled. "We'll be okay, I promise."