Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hyrule needed the rain.

Across the countryside, the nation was ravaged after the Demon’s War. The result of several failings, his own included. People slept with doors locked, praying to Hylia that it would keep the monsters at bay. Until the fires began. But fires could not burn in the rain, so tonight, Hyrule would sleep easier while the rain tried to wash away the memories.

Or, rather, most of Hyrule would sleep easier. Link never slept easy. Not for the past ten years, at least. Battle wounds he was too young to receive ached when it rained, and nightmares plagued him deep into his subconscious; the echoes of which haunted his waking hours.

Tonight, instead of sleep, he traveled with a small group of refugees, his hood pulled up over his head. Not that these people would recognize the Boy Hero who failed them. The child wore no scar upon his face like the man did, robbing him of an eye. His hands were not so calloused, his remaining eye not so tired. For a man of twenty, he felt he was forty.

The group of men around him seemed in somewhat light spirits. As light as anyone’s spirit could be as they made their way through the remains of old Castle Town. A few shops popped up after the war, and an inn here or there. For the most part, however, no one wanted to exist in the shadow of the Demon King’s grasp.

Who could blame them? Anyone fitting a certain appearance was dragged into the castle, and never seen again. For that exact reason, Link had used a special formula to hide the color of his hair for the past several years. The King wanted a blonde man, with blue eyes. The King wanted him.

Link, presently, however, had brown hair, and only one blue eye. He was an unlikely target. For how long, that was anyone’s guess, but for now, it held.

Link didn’t pay attention to the building they entered, not until he was sheltered from the rain and could smell the heady aroma of wine. The entryway was clean, but small, with a door leading them into a much larger parlor. To the left was a counter, beside a fireplace. In front of the fireplace sat a series of cushions, with men and women already quite contently perched there.

As Link looked around, it became very clear very quickly this was a pleasure house. The men and women who worked there wore thin, flowing, gauzy sort of robes and little more than their underclothes. There were worse places he could hide from the rain, he supposed. 

He took his seat at the counter, but said nothing. Thankfully, the woman that worked there had her hands full with the influx of new customers. She was a short, portly thing, with dark skin and hair that curled around her face. A comforting figure, if anything.

Drink orders were taken, and the men were instructed to mingle with the workers in the parlor. A slow night, he guessed, judging from the many scantily clad bodies milling about. None kept his attention, really, though there was one woman with hair like flax, and eyes the color of the sky that made him think of someone else. But all too quickly, he was then reminded of his failures, and he had to look away.

“You look like you could use a drink.” The woman at the counter remarked. “I’ve seen that look before. First time here?”

Link nodded.

“First drink’s on the house.” She said, then poured him a glass. She handed it to him, and he paused to smell it. Fruity. Sweet.

He sipped it.

“If you want something stronger, you’ll have to ask the girls.” She said as she leaned on the counter, propping her head up with her hand. “Serenity there usually keeps the real good stuff.”

Serenity? He followed her gaze, and realized it was the woman he noticed earlier. She was already surrounded by potential bedmates. If he had to judge based on her smile, she reveled in the attention.

“That’s my best girl, there.” The woman beamed, seeming so proud of the fact. Like she had anything to actually do with it. “Followed by Koen, but for very different reasons.”

He quirked a brow as he took another sip. That name… No. There was no way.

“She’s an odd one, for sure. Found her wandering just this side of Lake Hylia, soaked completely to the bone. At first, I thought I was crazy. But to my surprise, she didn’t remember a thing.” She explained. “So… I agreed to take her in. Didn’t want to just leave her there, though I probably should’ve. But once people figure out who she is? Well. Everyone wants their pound of flesh. If she remembered, I wouldn’t feel bad.”

Link frowned. So it was her…? Ganon’s Right Hand. It had been a decade since he’d seen her last. The scar over his eye ached, as if the memory could make the wound fresh again.

He looked for her across the parlor, and found her curled up somewhere, like she was trying to make herself small. She was reading, the sight of it surprising him for some reason. Like he expected her to never have hobbies, or interests, beyond violence and carnage. Her robe was a sheer, purple fabric, but her clothes were a brilliant white. There was no mistaking her, however.

Gold tattoos stood out against her dark skin—unique to her and her alone—in blocky patterns that traveled up her legs, and down her arms. Those he had seen before, but the band than went across her chest, just above her breasts, was one he was unfamiliar with. He didn’t know how long it had been since she lost her memories, but her body still showed the memory of battle. Toned muscles and scars made her stand out against the delicate beings who flitted about.

Like this, she was almost beautiful. Almost. They’d tried to kill each other on more than one occasion, after all. He was not in the business of finding people who tried to kill him attractive.

Just as he went to turn back to his drink, he watched one of the men approach her. A tall man—thin, with brown skin and white hair, indicating he might’ve been a Sheikah. The man grabbed Koen’s wrist and pulled her away from her book.

“Ah, Ral.” The woman from the counter sighed. “Shit. She’ll be out of commission tomorrow if he gets her.”

Out of commission? Link frowned as he looked at the woman. She returned his stare, then sighed.

“I don’t like her, but I’m not cruel. If she’s hurting, she gets time off.” She explained. “I don’t enjoy seeing her hurt. I thought I would, but…”

He didn’t let her finish that sentence before he got up. If anyone asked him why, he couldn’t answer. He had no idea what drove him to walk over to the scene.

“Can I help you?” The man, Ral, demanded. In his grasp, Koen trembled. The sight of it was so disgustingly foreign that Link almost felt sick. 

“Please—” Koen gasped. “You—you haven’t paid for the night, you’re hurting me.”

“Shut up, whore.” Ral sneered as he shot her a glare. “For what you’ve done, I shouldn’t have to pay if I want to hurt you.”

“Let her go.” Link’s voice was quiet, and gravelly. Scratchy, from lack of use. He spoke so rarely.

“And why should I do that?”

Link pulled his hood back and stared Ral in the eye. For a moment, he stared in confusion. Then, it clicked and his eyes went wide. “I’ve been looking for her.”

“Is it really you?” Ral whispered, letting go of Koen’s wrist. Link could just barely catch that she rubbed it. Had this man really hurt her?

What happened to her?

“It is.” Link said. “I assume that is enough?”

“I sure will miss you.” Ral spat as he shot Koen a cruel smirk. “But it seems your days are finally up.”

He left them, alone in her little corner. Koen stared up at him, gold eyes wide with fear until she remembered she was working. She forced as pleasant a smile as she could, and demurely closed her book. The actions, that look… It all seemed so foreign on her. Not that he particularly wanted her to be brandishing a sword at his throat, of course.

That just would have felt natural. 

“I thank you, kind sir.” Her voice trembled as she spoke, and the cadence was so soft he could barely believe it was her. It had to be her. If it was not, then how could she have those marks? Who would want to pretend they were her? “Could I interest you in entertainment for the evening?”

He would not get answers just gawking in the parlor. If she knew anything, she would be stupid to say it out here in the open. So…He nodded.

“Madame Sena takes care of payment.” She told him, nodding to the woman at the counter, then held out her arm with a smile. “Shall we?”

Link let her lead him back to the counter. The woman, Madame Sena, eyed him curiously. “You’re certain?”

He nodded.

“Then consider this on the house, too.” She decided. Koen went to protest and she held her hand up. “He’s done both of us a favor tonight, Koen. I can’t afford for any one of you to be out for a few days, and judging by Ral’s temper, it would have been more than a few.”

Koen nodded, falling silent at that. Madame Sena ushered them away before going to speak with another customer. Once more, they were alone.

This time, Koen led him up the stairs to the second floor. As they passed the doors, Link could hear the sounds of pleasure, echoing quite loudly. After what seemed like too long, they finally entered a room at the end of the hall.

Hers, he assumed. It looked luxurious, with a large, four poster bed in the center. Curtains were tied to the posts, allowing him to see the collection of pillows she’d acquired. No two pillows seemed to match each other, and only two matched the dark purple blanket. On one side of the bed sat a little oak table, with a candleholder. To the left of the room stood a dresser, and beside it a vanity, right in the corner.

It just looked so delicate.

“Make yourself comfortable, sir.” Koen said, gesturing to the bed. Sir. It was so hard to wrap his mind around the idea that she knew nothing.

She had to know something.

Link was at a loss at what to say as he sat down. What do you say to the woman who tried to kill you when you were ten? What do you say to a demon, who didn’t know she was a demon?

“I must apologize.” She said, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up, as she took off the gauzy robe and tossed it aside. “If I have harmed you in the past, I have no recollection of it. You are not the first, nor even the fifth man, to come to my bed with vengeance in his heart.”

As she spoke, she went to her vanity. Link’s hands clenched against his knees. So it was true. Or some sort of ploy. He wouldn’t put that past her.

He heard the drawer open, and she returned to kneel in front of him. At her temple, he could see a scar, somewhat faded. The culprit for her missing memories, perhaps?

Suddenly, she was holding up a knife, flat in both palms. Her entire body seemed to tremble, but her eyes held conviction. Conviction he was used to seeing accompanied by fury or bloodlust.

Not…

Not whatever this was.

“If I have so grievously wronged you, or harmed you, then please. Spare me another beating.” She said, her eyes watering as she spoke. “I am tired, sir.”

“Link.”

“What?”

“My name is Link.” He told her. No recognition flashed in those golden eyes as they stared up at him. Just confusion. “And I am not going to kill you.”

He could barely believe the words as he said them. He should.  She was a monster. She’d burned down villages, laughed as Ganon’s army took whatever they desired. Food, flesh, weapons.

She had facilitated the destruction of Hyrule.

“Then why did Ral say…” She frowned, looking down at the knife. The knife did make him tense. She was a skilled swordswoman. Any blade in her hands was a problem.

“He assumed I was someone I’m not.” Not wholly a lie. “Put that away, please.”

She returned to the vanity, but kept her back to him. Knowing now that she truly had no memories, that she was….Empty, he supposed, made it easier to appreciate her.

She had a lovely hourglass shape to her, with curly hair that ended at her lower back. Longer than it used to be. Last time he saw her, she kept it at her shoulders. Goddesses, had it been so long?

“Did you know me, then?” Koen whispered. Her shoulders tensed. 

Link said nothing. If he told her the truth, she’d have questions. But what else could he do?

“I have spent three years here.” She said slowly, as she turned to look at him. “Men who recognize me are cruel. Unkind. They tell me I deserve worse for what I have done to them. But…No one will tell me what I have done.”

He opened his mouth to say something, when he heard a loud crash outside. He immediately got to his feet, but Koen was at the door before he was. She opened it a crack and scowled.

“Gerudo.” She whispered. Link cursed, drawing her attention to him. “Hide under the bed. I’ll keep them out.”

He didn’t argue, but the idea of it was almost comical. If only she knew. They were once her allies. He was once her enemy.

He heard the door shut, and the shuffling of clothing. From under the bed, he could see she had put on a more opaque robe. A few moments later, there was banging on the door. He heard it open.

“Can I help you?” Koen asked, exasperation heavy in her tone.

“We’re looking for a voe.” One of the Gerudo said. “We heard word that he might have been seen last with you.”

“I have been seen with many.” Koen remarked with a breathy laugh. “You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“Do not play stupid with us.” The Gerudo snapped. He heard Koen gasp, then choke.

“If you want to play that game, you’ll have to pay.” She choked out. She was thrown back, landing just in front of the bed. Link’s hands clenched into fists.

“Search the room—”

“You will do no such thing.” Koen remarked as she got back up. There was that stubborn nature he was familiar with. Kind of nice to not be on the receiving end of it, for once. “Get out of my room.”

“You hold no authority over us.”

“And you and your king hold no authority here!” Koen shouted. “If I have to repeat myself, I am not afraid to shed blood.”

A tense silence followed. Link could hear his own heart beating. This was so surreal—Koen had spent so much time trying to kill him. And here she was, putting herself in harm’s way to keep him safe.

“This is not over, little vai.” One of the Gerudo said, a different one than who had been speaking. They left, slamming the door behind them. Moments ticked by like hours.

The only sound in the room now was their shared breathing, and the sound of his heart racing in his skull. He started to shuffle out from under the bed, until Koen whispered. “Don’t.”

Seconds became minutes. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she reached under the bed to help him out. Once out, she began brushing him off. 

“Did they hurt you?” He asked quietly. She shook her head.

“No worse than a customer.” She remarked. “I am so sorry they interrupted. This…I have not been at my best for this session, my apologies.”

“No need to apologize.” He told her. “I wasn’t…It was not my plan to…”

“Then why…?”

“I had to know whether or not you really couldn’t remember.” He admitted. Her eyes lit up at that.

“So you do know me!” 

“Koen—”

“Please.” She took his hands in hers, eyes wide and pleading. “Please, Link. I have to know.”

Chapter Text

“You served the Demon King.” Link hoped those words were enough to deter her. Oh, how wrong he was. Of course he was wrong.

“How?” Koen asked, sitting on the floor and looking up at him. It was still mind-boggling to see her act like this, even knowing she had no idea how she was supposed to act. She just seemed oddly innocent. It felt wrong.

“Why do you want to know?” He countered, his voice gaining some strength to it finally. “Do you want to go back to that?”

“I deserve to know why I’m being punished.” She countered. For a moment, he thought he saw that familiar fire in her eyes. Without thinking, his hand went to his belt.

His hand wrapped around the hilt of a dagger—his sword long hidden away elsewhere. He didn’t deserve it, he’d decided. If not for the burning mark on the back of his hand, he wouldn’t believe it was ever supposed to be his.

He wished it hadn’t been, deep down. His own secret shame, buried under years of guilt. Maybe, in truth, that was why he failed. It was a burden he didn’t want. 

“Please…” Koen whispered, placing her hands on his knees. A lump formed in his throat. She wanted to know so badly…

He had every right to refuse her.

“You were his called his Right Hand…” Link began, shutting his good eye. The eye that she didn’t take.

❧

“Get the princess to safety!” King Rakam barked. Link nodded, his hand slipping into the princess’s to pull her away. She screamed, and pulled, reaching for her father.

It hurt to hear her scream and cry, but it would hurt worse to disobey the King. Disobeying the King could mean much worse, for both of them. So, he tightened his grip, and he pulled her along. She stumbled after him—too easy to pull along.

He ran with her—out onto the walkway that led to her bedroom. She showed him, once. The secret entrance hidden within the fireplace in her room. A tunnel, that could lead out of the castle. She would be safe. He would get her out, and she would be safe.

“Let me go!” The princess insisted. “My father—Let me go!”

He winced but said nothing. His own father stood among the soldiers trying to hold the Demon King’s forces at bay. Whether he still lived or not was anyone’s guess.

Link pushed open the door and pulled her inside, before quickly turning and shutting it again. He was able to breathe easy for a few moments, his grip on her hand loosening. Just a moment’s rest…

Once he caught his breath, he moved to the fireplace and tried to remember what she showed him. Before he could, her hand moved past him and pressed in a stone. The wall sank down, opening into the tunnel.

“I’m sorry.” He told her in a soft voice as he looked at her. Her face was red, and her eyes puffy from crying. His hands found hers, and for a few moments, they mourned in silence, together.

A crash at the door broke their silence, and he quickly helped her into the tunnel.

“Go!” He told her. “I’ll catch up!”

He turned away from her, only aware the wall was closing again by the sound of the stone scraping against itself. All he had to do was remember which stone it was.

The legendary sword slid from its sheath as another crash hit the door. His grip on it tightened. The weight of it was almost too much for him to handle, but it was his destiny. It was his duty.

The door splintered and crashed open, bits of the wood still burning as it crashed to the floor. A heartbeat passed before a woman stepped through the doorway, delight dancing in her golden eyes as she looked at him. “So at last, we meet…”

Link braced himself, glaring at her. While he had never met her face to face, he knew her by her reputation as Ganon’s Right Hand. Most of Hyrule trembled when she approached, out of fear for her power and ruthlessness. That was to say nothing of the absolute joy she took in destruction and carnage.

“How about a trade, little hero?” She crooned as she placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. “If you hand over the princess, I won’t kill you.”

They both knew she would never keep her word.

He lunged at her but was just a step too slow. She drew her sword just in time to block his strike. Metal clanged against metal, ringing loudly in the space between them.

The woman laughed as she stepped back. Her sword was long, with only a slight curve to it, and the color of pure obsidian. Her stance was relaxed—like this was a game. Like she couldn’t possibly die here.

She swung, forcing him to jump back. The pair traded strikes, but with nothing ever landing, until he finally got close. The Master Sword sliced past her leather armor, ripping a gash into her side with ease. She cried out and pressed the offensive. It took all Link had to keep her off of him.

“Where is she?” The woman demanded. “I’m tired of playing around.”

Link said nothing, blocking her next strike. He pushed back, against her blade with all his weight and strength. He could hear his heart racing, feel it in his throat. His body was starting to ache from the exertion, and sweat had his hair clinging to his face and getting in his eyes.

He felt it before he heard it. A crack. Obsidian cracked and she had to pull back. With renewed hope and vigor, Link pressed the offensive again. He had struck her once.

He just needed the next strike to finish it.

Another crack, another strike. He kept up the assault until the obsidian blade snapped. As it did, his sword stopped just at her throat.

Time froze between them. The Master Sword glowed in the shadows of the room, casting a pale, white light on her dark features. Drops of red trickled down the blade as she stared at him. There was no fear in those gold eyes, just a sort of curiosity that made him uncomfortable. Why was she staring at him like that?

“Do you have it in you?” She remarked. “To take a life.”

“I’ve killed monsters.”

“Do you think me the same as a monster?” She asked with a smile. “You hesitate.”

Link stammered, trying to find words. An explanation. Nothing came quick enough.

Not before her palm slammed against the side of the blade, blood coating it from her palm, as she thrust with her other hand. The jagged edge of her broken sword slammed into his eye and he screamed. His grip on his sword loosened, and it dropped.

The Master Sword fell, clanking against the stone floor as Link stumbled back, his hands coming to cover his bloody eye.

“I am not in the habit of letting my enemies live.” She said, though he barely heard her past the pain. He dropped to his knees. “But if I let you live, you’ll lead us to the princess eventually.”

❧

It was almost impossible to breathe, suddenly. Link’s eye was wide, his hand over his chest. He hadn’t thought of that horrible day, on purpose. It haunted his dreams enough, his waking hours had no reason to give it consideration.

He felt a hand on his back. It didn’t register until he calmed down that it was her. Koen. Ganon’s Right Hand.

Panic and the past moved his hand to grip her throat, pinning against the post of her bed. Her hands went to his arm, but once again… There was no fear in her eyes. Even here and now, without her memories, she stared at him without fear.

It made him angry. They were enemies. If he hadn’t hesitated all those years ago—

“I cannot repair the wounds.” She told him as she reached up and touched his eyepatch. He wanted to scream. He wanted to throttle her. He wanted her to hurt like he had for the last decade. “But you have my regrets.”

“Why?” He choked out, suddenly aware of the tears sliding down his cheek. “Why?”

“I have spent three years without my memories. Three years as a different life, a different person.” She said. “And the person I am now is ashamed of who I once was.”

His grip tightened and she winced. How could he trust her? That day had only been the beginning. The next few years saw them meet several more times. 

Each as bad as the last.

“I will not beg forgiveness. I do not deserve it.” Koen whispered, and his grip loosened. The clanging of metal on stone. “But if I can atone for my crimes, I will do it. No matter the cost.”

Atonement…

“How can I trust you?” He asked as he let her go. She rubbed her neck, then gave him a small smile. 

“I suppose you can’t.” She admitted, then looked down. “But know that I will do whatever I must, with or without your trust.”

She did not seem to be in a rush to turn him in to the Gerudo who were looking for him. That accounted for something, at least. It was his decision, he supposed, if it accounted for much.

“Are you satisfied?” Link whispered. She looked at him, then chuckled.

“To find out I was a horrible monster? No.” She shook her head. “I deserved everything those men did to me, and more.”

He wanted to argue that, though he didn’t know why. She had done horrible things. She was once a horrible person.

That person was not who sat beside him now. That was the most jarring thing, he decided. The woman who took his eye had done so gleefully, with no remorse.

The woman who sat beside him was burdened with guilt. The body was same, maybe the soul was. The mind, however?

The mind was not.

“You don’t have to be that.” He told her, finally. “You are your own person.”

Was this who she would have been without Ganon’s influence? 

“That is a comfort.” She said with a small laugh. “But just because I do not remember the crimes, does not mean I am omit from repentance.”

No, he supposed, she was right.

“Then where do you want to begin?”

Chapter Text

It had been a decade since Link had slept free of nightmares. Now that he had, the sun’s insistence as it peaked in through the window was beyond irritating. He groaned, and draped his arm over his eyes.

For a few, groggy moments, he forgot where he was. The smell of floral perfume filled the air, and he could hear a woman humming. It was only when he moved his arm and opened his eye that he realized where he was, and how truly bizarre the situation was. 

Until she’d gone missing, Koen had hunted him through Hyrule. Some of the scars on both their bodies were from each other. And yet…

Her hands massaged the aches from his muscles, coaxing him into the best sleep he’d had in years. “I want to repent.” She told him. “I do not care what that looks like. If I am to end the life of a monster, let these hands heal instead.”

He sat up, looking around the room for her. She was missing—wasn’t this her room? Or was it just a room she used for…work.

The door opened and she stepped in, drying her hair with a towel. She wore a thin, white night-gown that was nearly see-through. His gaze shifted up to the ceiling and he coughed, awkwardly, into his hand.

“You’re awake.” She chimed, seemingly unbothered by her state of undress and his attention. “If you would like a hot bath, I could certainly arrange that for you.”

A hot bath was a luxury he had not enjoyed in some years. On the run, he bathed in rivers and streams when able. Between the magic of her hands, and the warmth of a bath, as well as a soft bed?

Link was almost inclined to stay.

“I would like that, please.” He said. She nodded, giving him a gentle smile. Still too strange. What would Princess Zelda say if she were to see this?

He frowned as Koen left the room again. He hadn’t thought of Princess Zelda much in the past ten years. It hurt, to think of how he had just left her like that. But what could he do?

He survived by Koen’s grace and mercy, if it could be called as such. And that was so he could lead her to Princess Zelda! No, keeping away had been the best thing he could do for her.

Even if she had no memory of what kind of person she was, Koen could never truly be trusted. The thought stung—bitter and sharp. But there was no promise that her wish for repentance was more than just a hollow saying. To say nothing of if she ever regained her memories.

He rubbed his face and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. No, he decided. That could not be permitted to happen. If it did… He shuddered.

The door opened again and she stepped inside, wearing a smile too sweet for her face. He could not trust her. He cursed himself, for telling her the truth.

“Madame Sena has agreed to let you use the baths.” She explained, holding her hand out. He stood, only to realize some—Koen—had taken his boots. And his belt. His hood was gone, too.

He frowned.

“I couldn’t let you sleep in your things.” She explained, then nodded to the neatly folded pile in the chair to her vanity. “I’ll take these to the baths with you, and when you finish, you’re more than welcome to leave if it pleases you.”

“Thank you.” The words felt stiff. He felt stiff. How was he supposed to reconcile that this was Ganon’s Right Hand?

Except, here, she really wasn’t. It was almost laughable. His Right Hand, hiding away in a brothel nestled in the ruins of old Castle Town. Who would ever guess she was there? He certainly never would have!

He walked with her to the baths, which required them to go underground. He felt nervous—almost claustrophobic, as they walked down the narrow stone steps. Finally, they stepped into an open area with room dividers surrounding large tubs dug into the ground, filled with water. It was hot. Was there a hot springs under Castle Town, and no one had ever known?

Koen draped his things over a room divider, alongside a towel, then gestured to the tub. He thanked her, then waited, awkwardly, for her to leave. Once she realized, she chuckled, then started to walk away.

Only to stop a few steps from him, and look back over her shoulder.

“Link?” She called, softly. He looked at her. “…Thank you. You had every right to hurt me, or even kill me, but you chose to help me instead. There is nothing I could do to repay you that debt, but…If ever you find yourself in need of a safe place to hide, a warm bed, or a hot bath, my door is always open.”

He winced, almost regretting his doubts. No. He had to remain firm, resolute.

Koen could never be trusted.

❧

The brothel’s mysterious inhabitant haunted Link when he left, without another word to anyone. Least of all to her. He sulked off from the ruins, aimless as he always was.

He vaguely was aware that he was heading in the direction of the Cathedral. It still stood, by some miracle. Ganon and his forces had not yet destroyed it.

When he arrived there, he entered the building and walked to the statue at the end of it. The Goddess Hylia. Since Ganon had taken over, it stood in a broken ruin. His forces had sought out every statue of her and desecrated them, destroying them. All symbols of her were considered contraband.

Out of spite, Link had carved a wooden version. He was almost surprised to find it still in his bag. Then again, why wouldn’t it be? He had to quit thinking of her like she was still the woman who took his eye. That woman would have slit his throat while he slept.

He rubbed his thumb along the little wooden figure as he looked down at it.

Suddenly, the doors to the cathedral burst open. Link grabbed his knife as he turned to see a figure rushing toward him—wispy and pale blue, transparent. The figure bounded away from the door and came barreling into him. It felt solid, as they both crashed against the destroyed statue. Before he could react, the entity crawled up, and perched on the top of the broken half. 

Flustered, Link looked to see what had been chasing the strange being. One, large, shadowy hand clasped against the doorframe of the cathedral. He gripped his knife, suddenly all too aware of how small it was. He didn’t even have a bow on him.

The figure on the statue hissed and screeched, babbling in something that could have, once, been assumed to have been Hylian, but still sounded foreign enough that he could not pick up on the words.

The owner of the large hand crept into the cathedral—a being of living smoke and ink, with a pale white, featureless face that looked like it was carved of the palest tree. Or maybe it was a mask? The origins didn’t matter, as it became apparent this was what the other figure had run from the moment it lunged in their direction.

Link dove out of the way, then rolled and spun to face the creature. Where the figure once was, it had now scrambled up the wall to the window of the cathedral. The shadow-monster shrieked, loud and shrill enough to make Link freeze in place.

The monster did not seem concerned with him—he could just leave, as it crept toward the blue figure. The figure’s hood fell as it continued to climb the wall, chattering as it did. Long, moon-white came tumbling from under the hood. The creature grabbed the figure’s hair and pulled them back, off the wall.

Without thinking, Link ran and slammed his knife into the monster’s back. The creature turned and looked up at him, tilting its head this way, then that. Stabbing it had effectively done nothing.

Shit.

The creature slammed its free hand into him, back handing him across the cathedral into the wall. He groaned as his back hit the stone. His grip on the hilt of his knife tightened and he got to his feet, shaking the confusion from his head.

The entity that had crashed into him shrieked again, babbling in those foreign words. Stabbing the monster hadn’t done anything. But what about that white face? Mask? Whatever it was.

Link shouted to draw its attention, and chucked a nearby rock at the creature’s face. It howled, then dropped the figure. Just as he thought.

If he wanted to do anything, it would mean attacking the head.

The creature lunged at him and he ducked under the grasping hands to drive the knife into the white mask, throwing all of his weight into it. It cracked, and the creature groaned, then howled in agony. He pushed, harder, just as one of the hands wrapped around his body, and the mask split in two. Just like that, the shadow dissipated into nothing.

Leaving only the split halves of the mask.

Curious, he picked the halves up. They felt like wood, but they were heavier than they looked like they should be. As he examined them, the other figure approached.

He looked up, and could see the pale blue markings on a dark blue face, eyes white and empty. Their cloak hung around their shoulders, jagged and torn, fastened with what looked like small skulls. They looked like some wild…Forest…Spirit…Thing.

They spoke, and again he understood nothing. He frowned and shook his head. Their face contorted in frustration and they stamped one, barely visible foot on the ground, kicking up dust all around them. Again, they spoke. And again, he understood nothing.

Finally, the spirit walked through him. It felt cold—an icy chill settling deep inside him so strongly that he was unsure if he would ever feel warm again. “Honestly, I don’t know why I even bother! You’re a daft, fool—”

“I can understand you.” He told them, turning to look at them as they walked away. The spirit stopped, and looked at him. Their head cocked to the side.

“Well. Now. That’s more like it.” That voice felt familiar, but he knew he had never heard it before. “You would do well to bury that mask, or give it to a shrine.”

A shrine…He frowned as he looked back down at it. What was it?

The spirit approached and tried to take the mask from him, but their hands went through it. They frowned, and tried again. And again. And again.

“How frustrating.” They huffed. “Well. Get rid of it. I don’t really care how.”

“What is it?” Link asked, looking at them. They sighed.

“That is an Echo’s Anchor.” They said, trying to tap one of the halves. Their finger went straight through. “Echoes are like ghosts.”

“Like you?”

“I’m—” They stopped, then looked away. “You could say that. But if you have an Anchor, then an Echo can reform after a while. So you need to get rid of it.”

“Why was it chasing you?”

“Is that really so important?” They demanded, crossing their arms. “Anyway. You must be pretty special. Only one other person has been able to see me.”

“Who?”

“Ah-ah.” They held a finger to their lips. “I’m not allowed to tell. And besides, you’re wasting time! Get rid of that Anchor!”

❧

Thankfully, there was a shrine not too far away. It was a small thing, with pillars to hold up a triangle shaped roof above a small altar. Behind the altar sat the symbol of the Triforce, cracked. It had been tucked behind the cathedral.

Link placed the mask on the altar, with the spirit watching. They placed an almost completely transparent hand over their heart and closed their eyes, muttering to themself. The mask reformed together, then dissolved on the altar. As it disappeared, a small, round, dark gem appeared. He took it.

“That is the Echo’s Remnant.” The spirit beside him said in a solemn tone. “The soul of whatever, or whoever, became that Echo. Remnants can hold power in them.”

Link nodded, and carefully wrapped the Remnant in a cloth before putting it into his bag. Several moments went by, as felt fitting. This was almost like a funeral of sorts.

However, even funerals came to an end eventually.

“Who are you?” The spirit asked, breaking the silence. It felt odd to be doing this in broad daylight., talking to a ghost. A kind of ghost.

“Link.”

The spirit gasped, and when he looked at them, their eyes were wide and round. Both hands covered their mouth, before shooting to his hand and pulling it this way and that. He knew immediately what they were looking for and yanked his hand away.

“You’re…” They stared at his hand, as if they could see the mark on his skin. A lump formed in his throat. He no longer wanted to speak; instead, he wanted to just run away somewhere.

He hated being reminded.

The spirit stood up straight, and he realized then that they did not meet his eyes. Were he not so frightened, he might have been amused by that. As it was, he just wanted to be alone.

“My name is Siave.” They told him. “And I’ve been looking for you.”

Chapter Text

It was not the first time Link had heard that sentence. Usually, it accompanied an extra burden. Or three. He’d lost count at this point. He stretched, and winced as something cracked. That hit had hurt a lot more than he expected.

“Ganondorf has become desperate in his search.” He dreaded that. He knew. He knew. Eventually, Ganon would go the extra mile. Apparently, it only took ten years.

Or was it since he lost his Right Hand?

“Are you listening?” Siave demanded, stamping their foot again. He looked at them, brow quirked. “You’ve always been quiet, but you could at least show you’re paying attention.”

“Always?” He frowned. Had he met this person? When they were…

Siave frowned.

“I…Don’t know why I said that.” They admitted, looking down. They quickly shook their head and their empty, white eyes met his. “Anyway. Now that you’re listening! Ganon’s grown desperate in his search for the Princess. He’s begun going after Echoes—specific ones. Ancient heroes, like he’s looking for a specific one.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who he might be looking for. Perhaps he hoped Koen had killed him, and was looking for his ghost? It would make sense.

Absently, he rubbed at the back of his hand. The mark that made him known at such a young age. Destined, for a great adventure. Destined for a terrible fate.

“You have their mark.” Siave said. “Which means you can stop him.”

Link looked away. If he could stop him, he would have done it already. He hadn’t even fought him—lost to one of his lackeys. He just was not strong enough.

“Why do you have that look?” They asked as they stepped closer. When he still did not look at them, they cupped his face in their hands and forced him to. “Your eyes are so sad…”

“Eye.” He corrected. They frowned, and moved one hand to trace the band of his eyepatch.

“How did this happen?” They asked softly. Something inside of him wrenched, an old ache he couldn’t place. The spirit closed their eyes.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said as he stepped away. His skin felt cold where they had touched it. “I can’t help you.”

“You’re the only one who can.” Siave insisted. “Please—We need you. Hyrule needs you.”

Link wanted to scream. If Hyrule needed a hero so badly, why couldn’t it be someone else? Why did it have to be him? He never asked for this.

“Link…” They whispered. “Please.”

“I’m tired.” He said, shaking his head. It was dismissive. Simple, compared to what was on his mind.

“Why did you save me?” Siave asked. “Hm? It’s in your nature. You can’t help but protect people.”

He hated that they were right. 

❧

“Gerudo forces have been seen lurking around old Castle Town.” Cirram said as he walked alongside her. He was young, and she worried he would have something to prove. So far, however, he had only returned with a few scrapes. Simple things.

“Thank you, Cirram.” She said, stopping to examine a barrel. No holes, yet. Good. A rat infestation could mean death for the refugees gathered here.

If her research was correct, which it usually was, they were in a region called Shanoah Peaks. The triple “mountains”, if they could be called that, marked it as such. Were they truly mountains, however, if they were underground?

“Do you think it’s him?” He asked. She looked at him, surprised to see such a hopeful expression. Then again…

“We can only hope.” She said as she walked to her tent. “Ideally, we will find him before Ganon’s forces do.”

“Of course, Princess—”

“Cirram, I have asked you not to call me that.” She sighed, exasperated. She no longer held that title, nor did she feel she deserved to. Ganon had stolen her throne. She had failed to protect her people.

So what if she had only been nine when it happened? Hyrule was her responsibility following the deaths of her parents. As the last remaining monarch… She did a poor job.

She ran, when she should have stayed.

“The Usurper Bastard may sit the throne, but you are our Princess.” Cirram said. In truth, she should be Queen now. A rueful smile tugged at her lips. Queen only in name, deep under the roots of her nation. 

“I appreciate your dedication, but at present, it is not desired.” She informed him as she stepped into her tent. Queen, but she lived so simply now. A small table, a pallet with a few cushions and blankets, and a single candle to provide light when it was required. In all truth, she loved it. After years of it, she had forgotten the luxuries of her youth. “I request my privacy.”

“Of course, Prince—Lady Zelda.” Baby steps. She doubted she’d get him much further, of course.

Once he left, she took her seat at the table and lit the candle. Just enough light to write, or read over her journals. As she set them out, she hesitated.

If his forces were lingering around Castle Town, perhaps Link was preparing to launch an attack? No, no. He couldn’t. He needed her help. If he tried to run in blindly…

Zelda ran her hands through her hair, then buried her face in them. Ten years, yet she felt like they had aged her by twenty more. Her body ached in moments like this where she could sit still and think. 

“Siave will find him.” Impa told her. Not Impa. Impa died in Ganon’s assault on the castle.

Behind her stood an Echo.

“I pray you are right.” Zelda whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. Impa was the first Echo she had met. Siave, the second.

“They are drawn to you two.” She remarked. A cold hand grasped her shoulder. The first time Impa had touched her like this, Zelda had wanted to scream. It was cold, where Impa had been warm in life. Her trusted friend. Her protector.

Now, just an Echo.

“How much do you know of them?” Zelda asked quietly. “All you’ve told me is to just trust them.”

“Should my word not be enough, Princess?” She asked, amusement prickling the edges of her voice. “I know they are lost. I know they are considered an ancient spirit. And I know they despise the Usurper. Is there anything more important than those details?”

“The way they speak unnerves me.” Zelda admitted. “They speak as if they know me, when they deign to speak to me at all.”

“If they choose to open up to us, then we can ask.” Impa told her. “Until then, we are in no position to refuse an ally.”

“No, I know that.” She sighed, looking over at her finally. Impa's Echo was near-white and transparent. Her Anchor was a small, bone-white tear-shaped object on her necklace. Siave had explained Anchors to them, and she knew that nothing could be permitted to happen to Impa's. Nothing. “I just do not like going into anything blind.”

❧

The Forest of Spirits. Siave had been adamant that was where they needed to go. It would be wise to go through old Castle Town and get what supplies he could. Rations, a better weapon. A horse, if he could manage. A bow.

As they neared Castle Town, however, Siave froze.

Link looked at them and hummed. In broad daylight, they were almost hard to see. Wavering in the light, he half expected them to disappear. If they weren’t a ghost or an Echo, what were they?

“I’ll wait for you at the Forest.”  They said, barely above a whisper, then vanished. Odd.

He continued on into old Castle Town. After last night, he was cautious. Ganon was looking for someone—likely him. If it hadn’t been for Koen, he might have been found last night. He pulled his hood further over his head.

Ten years, and he threw away the safety of obscurity in one, stupid act. For what? The protection of a woman who—

She was not the same woman who took his eye. He knew that. And he had stepped in even when he didn’t.

“Hm? It’s in your nature. You can’t help but protect people.”

He hated that they were right. That was why he stepped in with Koen. And where had it gotten him? Revealed, and having to be extra careful now. The Gerudo knew what he looked like now. Or at the very least, they knew he was close by.

He remained lost in his thoughts as he milled through the meager market that had sprung up in the ruined Castle Town. With what he had, he was able to get a few rations, and a meager short sword. No bow, but he could get one later. Honestly, he’d rather have the bow than the sword, but he would make do.

No horse, unfortunately, but he was able to acquire a map. Better than nothing, he supposed. Once he made sure he had everything, he set off.

Onto a new journey, and a new adventure.

Yay.

Chapter Text

“Unfortunately, my sisters turned up empty.”

Ganon shut his eyes as Kebora spoke. This was her unit’s first chance, and he had to say that he was not impressed. The best trackers the Gerudo had to offer. Was this how far his people had fallen?

“Return to your search with your sisters. None of you are permitted to set foot in the castle until you produce results.” He commanded. Kebora lifted her head briefly, then looked back down. Properly admonished and shamed, she retreated. Leaving him alone once more. If she had resisted, it would not have ended well.

In frustration, he slammed his fist down into the stone arm of the Hylian King’s throne. It cracked from the sheer force and power behind the action—or, more accurately, the once-small crack grew deeper and wider. His people had frustrated him more times than he wished to admit. Disappointment followed disappointment. Empty promises, empty hands.

“You lack control over your subjects.” The ethereal voice had become somewhat of a comfort as of late. Initially, he had thought he was finally going insane. Succumbing to Demise’s Corruption, falling deeper and deeper into a darkness he could not climb out of.

Not until the next turn of the cycle.

“My people have been too far from home for too long.” He remarked as he stood. As he walked to the window, the Echo formed beside him. The figure of the long-dead heroine of Gerudo legend. He still was not wholly sure she was real. She told him early on that Echoes were spirits, and spirits were not always real, living people. Some were simply concepts. Hopes, dreams.

Nightmares.

“I have watched this story play out a dozen different times.” She remarked, her voice etching each word and warning into his brain with a knife. “You will reach, and fall. You will die as you have died every time before.”

Her voice was so utterly familiar—like an old ache somewhere deep in his soul. He wanted to recognize it, to recognize her. But she wasn’t his to remember.

Her era was long ago. She told him as much when they met. She grew up alongside his many-times over predecessor, as his best friend. (Which invoked memories of his own dearest friend, who now laid cold in the ground ten years gone.) To hear her tell it, it always began as a slow, creeping descent into madness. 

“Have you nothing to say, Demon King?”

“Don’t call me that!” He snarled as he spun to face her. The figure did not flinch. Even if he could hurt her, he wouldn’t. If only to prove to her he wasn’t like all the men who came before him.

“If you want to change things, like you claim, your best bet would be to throw yourself off this balcony.” She said, her eyes boring into his. Blank, empty. Glowing white.

“Have you ever anything useful to say?” He asked, finally looking away from her. Damn her.

“I consider everything I say useful.” She scoffed. “You are a cursed and wretched man. I have watched you die and return a hundred times. It never ends. Each time, you grow mad quicker. Each time, you become worse. Someday, if this continues, you will be born a monster.”

“And what if I choose to bring an end to this tireless cycle?” He asked, hands clenched tight. Those blank, white eyes went wide. He turned, again, to look outside. From this window, he could see the once-bustling Castletown, now waving his banner high above it. Proud, above it.

“Then I would say, in the centuries I have watched this dance…” The Echo spoke slowly, and he felt her chilly presence come up beside him. “That is the first intelligent decision you have made, Ganondorf Dragmire.”

❧

There was no luck to be had in acquiring a map, unfortunately, though Link had tried. It was hard to navigate the new Castle Town, ever since Ganon’s conquest. Not far off was old Castle Town; where she resided. How she had never been found remained a mystery.

There had never been any mistaking those tattoos.

Though, Link was grateful she hadn’t been. If she resumed her pursuit… He shuddered as he packed his bag with freshly bought travel rations, and a few ingredients he knew would be hard to find. Most of the merchants were Gerudo settled in new Castle Town, or a few Hylians that had managed to maintain shop and trade.

He made his way through town, ducking into an alley when he heard a group Gerudo shouting as they ran through the street. They spoke their native tongue—something he could understand precious few words in. There was laughter, and revelry. Something about a man.

He peeked out into the street to see around four of them, dragging a man that looked somewhat like himself, but thin. His clothes were threadbare, and he was missing the same hand that fated mark would be on. The man panicked, trying to pull away from the much stronger women.

“My name is Cassil!” He shouted. “Cassil! I’ve never held a sword a day in my life, please believe me!”

Link clenched his hand into a fist, clasped against his chest. He should intervene. That man was going to be tortured, and likely killed, on his behalf.

But if he intervened, it would be him, instead. Then what? Ganon had him in his clutches? That would serve no one any good.

Frustrated, he looked away and shut his eye. The man’s shouting, and the Gerudo’s cackling echoed. Further and further, until it was too distant to distinctly make out.

Damn Siave. Damn her for reminding him who he was. Damn Ganon for all of this…

And damn himself, for failing in the first place.

Irritated and upset, he started to make his way back out of town once more. From the edge of new Castle Town, it was a quick walk to old Castle Town’s ruins. More Hylians had made their place here, as the Gerudo had little concern with the old ruins. Some twenty or thirty years ago, it had been destroyed in an earthquake. Unrelated to Ganon and his conquest.

The old King relocated Castle Town some ten years after the quake. From then, until Ganon’s conquest, the ruins remained simply that. Ruins. Memories. Echoes.

As the thought crossed his mind, he saw them. Near-transparent figures making their way through the ruins, with large, hollow, white eyes. Most were like Siave—largely looking like Hylians. It dawned on him that these were possibly the Echoes of people who died in the earthquake. Why he hadn’t seen them before, he didn’t know. Then again, was he even paying attention before?

One figure that looked like a young girl searched through the rubble of an old house, long gone. She walked around and paced, then sat down and buried her face in her hands. Slowly, Link approached. When he was close to her, she looked up.

“You…Can see me?” She asked in a small voice. He nodded, and she jumped to her feet. “You can see me! I need your help, Mister!”

Of course she did. He forced a smile. “What is it?”

“I’m looking for my mom and dad!” She said, her voice bubbling with excitement. “They said we’d meet back up here soon, but I haven’t seen them in days!”

“What are their names?” 

“My mama’s name is Misia, and my papa’s name is Tamul.” She chirped. “And my name is Iria!”

The girl seemed so excited to finally be noticed. How long had she been… Maybe that was best not to ask.

“Do you know where your parents went?” He asked, stomach twisting into a knot. She paused, tapping her chin, then snapped her fingers.

“Before they left, a great big piggy showed up! He was like us, like—Mama says we were ripped out of time.” She said, nodding eagerly. “I think they were gonna look into what was up with the piggy.”

A great big piggy… Well. He’d heard of stranger things.

“I’ll keep an eye out for them, Iria.” He reassured her, then reached out and pat her head. She squealed at that, and nuzzled his hand.

Maybe Siave would know how to locate her parents.

He left the child there and continued on. He paused when he realized one turn, and he would be on the path to the brothel. To where she resided.

Without realizing it, he was walking in that direction. Within a few moments, he was there. In the alley beside the building, however, so was Siave, staring up at one of the windows. They seemed fixated, and didn’t even notice when he approached.

“Siave?” He asked. They jumped, and then scrambled up the wall to cling to the balcony above them. White eyes fixated on him, wide. Then narrowed.

“You!” They hissed. “Fool. Fool. What are you doing here? Go to the Forest!”

“I had to gather supplies.” He retorted. “What are you doing here?”

They looked back up, then closed their eyes and let themself fall. They laid, sprawled out on their back on the ground. As odd as the moment he met them.

“I feel drawn. Familiar, almost.” They whispered. Briefly, color started to fill their form. Dark skin, and white hair. They were dressed in dark grey and reds until—

They vanished, like smoke. Surprised, Link looked around. Where did they go? Then, his gaze fell on a figure that was leaving the brothel and stepping into the alley.

She stopped, golden eyes wide in surprise when she saw him standing there. “Link?” She asked as she took a single step closer. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking rather sheepish.

“You left in such a hurry this morning.” She frowned. “Would you like some lunch before you continue on?”

At the sheer mention of food, his stomach growled. Before he could even protest, she marched up to him and grabbed his wrist to drag him inside. If it had been anyone else, he would have thought it cute or endearing.

On her, it was just strange.

❧

“How lovely of you to drop in, Siave.” Princess Zelda remarked when the Echo materialized on her makeshift bed. Siave rolled their head in her direction, empty eyes staring into hers. Black liquid slid down their cheeks. “Siave? Are you alright?”

“I am fine, Princess.” They said, a forced smile tugging at their lips. “You are well, yes?”

“Yes, Siave.” She reassured, walking over. She took her seat beside them. They reached up, fingers lightly carding through her hair. “Please tell me the truth, Siave.”

“It hurts, Princess. It hurts more and more every day.” Their voice cracked and broke as they spoke. They often spoke to her of a hurt. Endless, worsening. Zelda had, after some time, pieced together that it wasn’t a present hurt.

Just the memory of one.

“What is it that hurts?” She asked, turning so she could place her hand on their shoulder. So cold. So painfully cold.

“My heart.” They lamented. “My heart, it hurts.”

“Why…?” This was the closest to an answer she’d ever gotten. Maybe, finally, a piece of the puzzle would present itself.

“Because I think he is right.”