Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

‘Free the four Divine Beasts!’

That was what the Princess left him with. Out of all the things to give to him in this new, rotting world, she chose a single, tiny sentence. Link seethed when Impa first told him. He’d traveled on foot for days, alone and confused in a hundred year old shirt, and after he passed the crowd that hounded him at Kakariko's front gate the simplicity of the Princess’ message felt like spit in the face. He calmed down soon enough; seeing the grief of time laid bare on Impa’s face was a sobering thing, and after that came the idea that maybe the Princess’ task was too much. With four directions, four races, four Beasts- it felt bottomless.

Paya looked between her quick sketch of the Necluda region, the map of Hyrule on her lap, and the empty sea of black and blue on Link’s Sheikah slate. Link didn’t know when he would find another Sheikah tower once he hit the road, or if he’d even be able to access it, so he sat back and let her tell him where to place the glowing points on his incomplete map.

“If you head northwest, you’ll find Death Mountain and Goron City, but with so little money I don’t think you’ll be able to buy any fireproof armor.” she said. “Maybe an elixir, but I don’t think it would be wise to depend on that…oh dear…” Paya bit her lip as she traced the path from Kakariko with her finger. Link didn’t think she liked him very much. She’d been careful all day to keep as much distance between them as possible, and now she knelt as far from him as she could at her desk, not meeting his eyes. It stung a little, but Link couldn’t really blame her. If some stranger barged into his home after vanishing for a hundred years he’d be a put off too.

“To the south, the terrain is easier, at least for a little while-”

‘What about there?’ he signed. He pointed to the cluster of hills and mountains to the northeast. He noticed them back on the Plateau- a wall of black rain to the northeast as if someone had scooped up a handful of mud and smeared it across the skyline.

“That’s north Lanayru. The Zora’s Domain is over there- Vah Ruta will be too.” Paya told him.

La-nay-ru… Link rolled the word around in his head. There was a faint feeling of familiarity there. Lanayru. He’d go to Lanayru first.

‘Can you draw me up a map?’

“Of course! Anything you need!” Paya blurted. She swallowed. “And, uh, I’ll go…set up your sleeping mat. I can only imagine how tired you must be.”

Link glanced looked down at his feet. He wasn’t quite sure he was comfortable sleeping in Impa’s house, but Impa had insisted.

‘No friend of mine will sleep in an inn when there is a perfectly good bed upstairs!’ Impa had told him.

Link didn’t really think someone who couldn’t remember your name or recognize your face really counted as a friend, but it would be the first bed he’d slept in in a hundred years, and Goddesses, that sounded wonderful. He refused to sleep in the old man’s hut on the Plateau- sleeping in a dead man’s bed sounded like bad luck. Everything about the Great Plateau set him on edge: the rotting walls of the Temple of Time, the worn down metal creatures that surrounded it, the pervasive silence. While he didn’t know much about this world, he knew the sheer emptiness of the Plateau was unnatural, like a graveyard hidden by greenery. He was happy to leave it.

He had slept outside when he reached Dueling Peaks Stable. The handful of assorted rupees he found stashed in the Temple of Time wasn’t enough to buy him a bed or a meal, but the fire was warm enough and the company had been good. A nice man in an over-sized pack shared his rice balls with Link, and bought a chunk of raw amber for 17 rupees. He laughed when Link told him he was the first flesh and blood man Link had spoken to in a hundred years.

-

Link woke up just before the sun the next morning, still dazed by a confusing string of dreams filled with a hundred faces and echoing voices. He made his way downstairs as quietly as he could. The main foyer was dim, lit by the eerie orange glow of the shrine orb, but bright enough to light his path to the front door. Slipping out seemed rude, but after the gawking and fanfare he’d received when he first entered the town, leaving silently felt like a much better option. Link didn’t like the stares the other Sheikah gave him. The feeling of others’ eyes on him made his stomach tighten.

“Leaving so soon?” Impa said softly from behind him. Damn. Link turned sheepishly to face her.

‘I thought you’d be asleep.’ He signed. Impa looked up at him from her cushion. Her eyes weren’t angry, just tired.

“Sheikah ears. They never sleep. They called us the shadow people for a reason, you know.” She said. “Walk outside with me, will you? The morning air helps these old bones.”

Impa waved him over. He took her hand and helped her up. For an old woman, her grip was strong and steady. It was easy to imagine her young and tall, her shoulders thin but muscular, her white hair cut close to her scalp.

“Keeps it out of the way-” Impa tells him. He squints at her, standing beneath the blinding sun, drenched in sweat. The desert wind is fierce and hot as hell. “-the enemy can’t grab your hair if you don’t have any.”

The Gerudo woman next to her- Urbosa, maybe?- towers over them, and when she throws her head back and laughs, her red hair burns like flames. “You Sheikah are paranoid. A good warrior doesn’t let the enemy get that close.” Her voice is light though, and joking, and when Impa smiles the red paint across her face cracks.

“Are you still with me, Link?” Impa asked. Link blinked twice, shaking himself from his sudden haze. The sun was not hot and dry and dusty- it wasn’t even in the sky yet. The only light was the beginning sunrise and the sunset fireflies. Impa was still old and crooked, and the morning breeze was chilly through his fraying shirt.

‘I’m sorry,’ He signed. ‘I just got…lost for a moment.’ Impa hummed in reply. She leaned against the porch railing. They could see the Goddess statue for here, its reflection perfect in the still water surrounding it. Its features were simpler than the towering sculpture in the Temple of Time, but were carved with just as much care.

“I like to believe that, with time, your memories will resurface,” Impa said. “My hope is that those pictures I showed you will help, but in the end, all we can do is wait.” She looked at him, voice soft.

“I know you can do this. You’re a warrior and a survivor- you always have been.” Impa turned to the door. “I have a gift for you. You don’t have to take it, but it would ease my old heart.” He nodded, and her smile felt empty. He sat at the stairs and watched her dip back inside. When she returned it was with a box, old but well cared for. She struggled to sit down beside him and rested the box in her lap.

She placed her hands over his. Her fingers were long and bony; the brown skin drooped like melted wax. All traces of youth and fire in her face had disappeared- in the dawn, she was nothing but an old, old woman.

“I’ve kept it all these years. You- the Champions- you each had one, and after everything happened, I took it and cleaned it up. I figured, once you came back you could take some comfort in it. Not that it will mean anything to you now.” There was bitterness in Impa’s voice, but most of all a deep sorrow.

The tunic she placed in his hands was blue as the sky, and despite its age the embroidered designs were white and spotless. It was thick cotton, sturdy and breathable, and as he ran his hands over it there were pinpricks in his mind, fleeting sensations-

Sand in his hair and sunburnt cheeks, the desert sun bright and- bellowing laughter, the smell of sulfur and bone-crushing hugs- begrudging respect, well-meant banter- lake water up his nose-

The feelings slipped away before he could truly grasp them, before he could hold them in his head and make sense of them. They left him feeling hollow. Link turned to say thank you, but Impa had already left him alone with the fireflies.

-

Breakfast was quiet and passed with little trouble. Paya already made tea by the time Link came in. It was pale and pungent, smelling strongly of flowers. Link wrapped his hands around the warm mug, took a swig, and immediately regretted it- it was almost too bitter to choke down.

“It’s a Kakariko specialty- blue nightshade,” Paya told Link with a smile. He struggled to return it.

‘It’s wonderful. Thank you.’

They ate smoked stealthfin trout and last night’s brown rice in silence. Impa looked exhausted, and while Paya tried to fill the silence with small talk, in the end, Link just excused himself to change.

His bed mat was still set up in the spare room. He fiddled with the cream edge of his shirt- he’d found it beside him when he first woke up in the Shrine, and the stitches holding the hems together had rotted away sometime in the past hundred years. When he pulled it off it practically disintegrated in his arms. There it went. The last thing tying him to the cold, unfeeling light of the Shrine of Resurrection. Nothing left but a pile of scraps. Link tossed it aside and sank down onto the mat. The Champion’s tunic felt impossibly heavy in his hands and a sudden knot of nausea weld up in his throat. Fuck.

Impa’s faith was unsettling. It seemed foolish for her to put so much trust in a stranger. Had his old self felt the same? Did all the looming expectations of him set this past-Link on edge, or did he feel confident in his skills? Did he handle all of… this with grace?

“Master Link?” Paya poked her head inside the room and slapped her hand over her face. She forced the sliding door shut.

“I am so- so, so sorry, I didn’t realize you were still undressed-” she stammered out. Link threw the tunic over his head and scrambled to open to door.

‘I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to take so long,’ he signed. Paya looked like she might throw up.

“I drew up the map of Lanayru you asked for, just in case you can’t find a Sheikah tower.” she squeaked, thrusting the roll of paper into his chest. “And- I, uh, wanted to give you something.” Paya practically threw the parcel at him, wrapped in thin paper. Inside was a set of clothes, folded with care, the red Sheikah emblem staring up at him. It was a brand new set of Sheikah armor, just like the kind he’d seen in Lasli’s store.

“I’m not sure it will fit, but I know you don’t have much, and I figured it could be helpful. At least, I hope it is- you don’t have to use it if you don’t want to! You can just leave it here.” She said, looking everywhere but his face.

Link stared at her in confusion for a moment. It was an awfully kind gift for someone who seemed to want nothing to do with him.

‘Thank you.’ It felt like the only thing he’d said today was thank you.

“I’m- you don’t- I guess I just wanted to say that I’m glad I finally got to meet you.” She said, then bolted downstairs as quickly as she came.

No one came to see him off- not Impa, Paya, or any townsfolk. Link figured Impa asked them to stay away and give him some privacy, but it still left him feeling a little forgotten. He left up the northeast trail alone, towards a place he’d never heard of but still felt achingly familiar, keeping his eyes on the map. Frankly, the thought of getting there and saving the world with nothing but a stupid, glowing block of metal and his two feet seemed ridiculous. But he’d seen Lanayru’s rain from the Plateau, could already see the angry clouds from the rolling hills behind Kakariko, and it was the only action plan he’d got.

-

Lanayru, Link decided, was hell. He stripped off his undershirt hours ago, but his tunic still clung to him with sweat, and he could taste the salt crystals on his lips. Wet heat stuck to him differently than dry heat did- the humidity crawled up into his lungs and sat like a weight on his head. That, and he’d been given the chance to meet a lovely new insect: the mosquito. The shallow, still, warm water of Lanayru’s wetlands seemed to be the perfect breeding ground for them, and though he’d only been walking for a few hours, his arms and neck were covered with angry, raised bites. Link eventually gave up on smacking them away and accepted his fate as a tiny, evil bug’s pin cushion.

The biggest problem at this point was avoiding the lizalfos. He first heard their calls a good twenty minutes ago and they still hadn’t stopped. The lack of cover the flat wetlands offered was becoming increasingly stressful- between their ability to blend perfectly into the mud and their wicked speed in the water, the lizalfos had a clear advantage. Still, he could feel in his gut that he was going the right way. Each step sent a gentle ripple of nostalgia down his back: the way the sun turned the waters emerald green, the little toad spawn that darted around his feet, the soft, sweet smell of fleet lotus flowers.

A sudden series of clicks broke through the air’s heavy silence. Link dropped down into the mud. That was certainly not a lizalfo. He slowly turned over his left shoulder to see. The creature was easily as tall as a man and gleamed chrome despite the mud splattered all over its underside. It scuttled on six legs, like some sort of mechanical spider, and sent out more clicks as it rotated its head, exposing a pulsing blue eye.

The name came to him in an instant- Guardian- and the thought shot up his spine like lightning, white hot and paralyzing. He knew it, whatever it was, knew he had seen it before.

There was a soft chirp by his head. Link turned as slowly as he could and- shit.

The lizalfo lying on its stomach next to him cocked its head and let out another chirp. It smacked its jaw once, then leaped up and began yapping, diggings its claws into Link’s forearms to try and drag him up with it. Behind them, barely 50 yards away, the Guardian clicked. Link could hear it slowly moving towards them, following their noises. He dived at the lizalfo’s feet, knocking it back to the ground, and scrambled on top of it. It clawed at him, screeching, and Link struggled to hold it down while he groped for the knife tied onto his belt. The lizalfo bit down hard on his shoulder, but it was moving too erratically to get a good hold on him, leaving its neck exposed. Link shoved the knife up under its jaw. He tore his shoulder out of its mouth and forced its head down against the ground, pressing the two of them down into the mud. Black blood seeped out of its neck and into the shallow water. Slowly, it stopped thrashing. Link squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep as still as possible. There was a click, then two, and then finally soft splashes as the Guardian wandered farther away. Link rolled off the dead lizalfo and spat mud and blood out of his mouth.

He probed at his shoulder. Thankfully the lizalfo missed the subclavian artery, so instead of a spray of cherry red, the wound just oozed dark blood. It throbbed, but it wasn’t awful- the worst part was probably going to be cleaning all the mud out of it. Link leaned down over the lizalfo and pulled the knife out of its neck in one clean motion. He stood and re-shouldered his pack. The Guardian had scuttled somewhere else for now, but Link knew it would be back eventually. In the distance, he could see the black rain, still falling.

He needed to get out of this damn marshland.

Chapter Text

Link reached Boné Pond by midday and the road north of it by twilight. It rained softly, and as he watched the water drip down his hands, leaving streaks of clean skin behind, he was grateful for it. He tilted his head back and let it sprinkle onto his face, leaving cool kisses on his eyelids and cheeks. He was getting close.

By the time the sun set, Inogo Bridge was the only thing he could see. The rain blotted out any stars, and the high cliffs that ran along Zora River cast deep shadows, but the luminous stones decorating Inogo Bridge made it glow like the moon. Link had two options now- move forward, following the road and the river, or scale the bridge and set up camp under its two covered spires. He itched to continue, maybe even reach the Zoras by daybreak, but then he could also fall, drown, and die, and then all of Hyrule would be damned, so he decided instead to climb up the bridge and hope his pack was dry enough to start a fire.

“Say!” Something called down, “Hey there!”

The creature that pounced down from the bridge, landing just feet before Link, was twice his size and covered in slick red scales. Link didn’t give it time to stand before his sword was drawn. It raised its giant hands, exposing a gentle face and wide, amber eyes.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you- I am Price Sidon, of the Zora.” He straightened up. “Pardon my asking, but are you a Hylian?”

Link nodded slowly. Sidon was tall, intimidatingly so, with broad fins and silver jewelry that sparkled under the luminous stones. His Hylian held a heavy Zora accent that Link struggled to hear around, but he certainly looked like a prince.

“That is fantastic! I was hoping you would have a moment to talk.” Sidon stared at him expectantly. Link stared back, making no move lower his sword. There was a pregnant pause.

“Oh, pardon me- what is your name?” Sidon asked. “I suppose I should have started with that.”

'Link,’ He signed after hesitantly sheathing his sword.

“Link?” A strange look flashed across Sidon’s face, almost lost in the rain. “That’s strange. Rather outdated-- I feel like I’ve heard it before… Well, anyways, it is a wonderful name; strong and bold! It suits you. Now, Link, I can see that you are no ordinary man. You hold yourself with courage. Zora’s Domain and its surrounding territories are in great danger. Our Divine Beast, Vah Ruta, has awakened and we cannot subdue her on our own. We are in desperate need of aid.”

Link nodded. ‘That’s why I’m here. I can calm Vah Ruta.’

“Really? That is fantastic!” Sidon looked relived enough to cry. There was something familiar about the way he held himself- commanding yet approachable, kindness shining from his eyes.

“Then you must come with me to Zora’s Domain. It’s not far from here, just less than two miles.” Sidon was already walking down the road. Link had to trot to keep up with his wide gait. “Unfortunately, you cannot swim up Zora River, but if you keep to the road you should be there in no time.”

'What- now?’ Link signed.

“Of course! Time is of the essence.” Sidon said. “Though I should warn you- Vah Ruta’s emergence has stirred up some of the more dangerous creatures in the area. Most of them have avoided the path but a pack of lizalfos have claimed a section of road near Oren Bridge. I have no doubt you’ll find your way around them.”

Link jerked to a stop.

'Are you not coming with me?’

“Of course I am! Just not… on land.” Sidon said. At least he had the decency to look sheepish. “The lizalfos have gathered a nice supply of shock arrows- electricity and Zora don’t mix well. But I’ll be right there in the water the entire time, should you need any aid! Here-” He handed Link a fist-sized bottle of sickly yellow electro elixir. “It’s made for Hylians, so it should be helpful.”

‘ Wait a minute! You can’t just-’

A mournful wailing cut through the night, the kind of sound that still hung heavy in your heart long after it stopped, and Sidon’s face darkened. “Vah Ruta. She’s calling out again. We need to hurry.”

Sidon turned and jumped back into the river, slicing through the water without even a ripple.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be right in front of you!” He called, before slipping under and out of sight.

Link bit back an unpleasant reply. Prince or not, Sidon had some nerve sending him off alone in the middle of the night into the waiting arms of a lizalfos pack. He asked for Link’s help- the least he could do was escort him.

Granted, Link told himself, Link had offered. Sidon seemed genuine, and there was deep concern behind his words. Link didn’t doubt his dedication. Another wail echoed across the water. The night sky suddenly felt much darker than before.

Link dropped his pack and knelt down. The waxed leather kept most of the moisture out so far, but the rain was slowly starting to seep in. Nothing would be much use- it was too wet to light a torch and even if he tried his tinderbox was soaked through. Finally, he unhooked the Sheikah slate from his hip and lit up the screen. The blueish glow was faint and cold, but it was better than wandering around in the dark. Link glanced upwards at the sky, searching for any glimpse of the moon. It was as black as ever. Vah Ruta’s rain had swallowed everything up.

---

Link was getting close to the Domain, or so Sidon told him. It was slow, slow going. The rain turned the road into a pitch mudslide, and with each step, Link felt the mud swallow up his feet a little more. The cliff faces had become small waterfalls despite their gradual slopes, and the water had loosened the roots and soil holding rocks in place. Three times now Link needed to dive out of the way of tumbling rocks, and the last time he would have been squashed flat if not for Sidon’s warning from the water. It was becoming harder and harder to hear his voice over the wind- the further they got the louder it became, melting into the screams of Vah Ruta.

“The road moves inland from here for a while,” Sidon shouted. “Most likely, I will not be able to see you until Luto’s Crossing- possibly even till you reach the Domain.”

Link gave Sidon a thumbs up.

“Take care. Just stay close to the road. I have the utmost faith in you!” Sidon said before slipping down and vanishing beneath the water.

Link wiped his wet hair out of his face and kept moving. As the road diverged from the river the path grew rockier and the endless mud became streams of water rushing past his feet, sloshing up past his ankles. The trees- tall, arching pines and vibrant, fanlike plants- sagged under the weight of the rain, creaking and groaning with the wind. It almost buried the sounds around him: the squealing of boars, the chittering of keese—and the calls of lizalfos. Link could hear them, just around the bend of the road. He crept forward, sword drawn, and downed the electro elixir, just in case. He could smell shock arrows from here, reeking of sulfur and acid. Through the trees, he saw six lizalfos hunched over a doe, its guts strewn across the mud, waterlogged and stinking. The deer was too small for all of them; a fight had broken out. The largest lizalfo, a hulking, slimy thing with needle-like teeth, snapped its bloody jaws at another lizalfo whose claws dripped with deer meat. The rest of the lizalfos yapped in excitement and circled tight around them. They were too busy watching the fight to notice Link until he lunged forward.

The pack gave a squeal, darting for their weapons, and the giant lizalfo shuddered before sliding dead off of Link’s sword. Its opponent leaped forward and landed on Link chest, knocking him off balance, its claws digging into his tunic. Link rolled out from under it and stabbed upwards into its exposed belly. It dropped into the mud and scuttled away. Two more came to its aid, hissing. Link leapt up in an instant and slid down comfortably into a fighter’s stance, feet apart, sword centered. The first lizalfo leaped out of the way of his swing, but the second wasn’t so fast. Link’s blade caught it by its hunched shoulder, slamming it onto the ground. There was a moment of hesitation as the surrounding lizalfos took a step back. Link almost laughed at his luck; it took him a second too late to realize they weren’t retreating, but making room.

The first shock arrow came flying from behind and embedded itself in a tree, less than a foot away from him. Its arcing sparks lit the road a vicious yellow. Link stumbled back, searching for the archer, but the sudden brightness left everything a dotted black. The second one missed him by inches, but it was as good as a hit- the arrowhead struck the pool of water Link was standing in. He didn’t register the pain at first, just a strong stinging sensation that moved up his body and the jolt of his muscles contracting as he dropped to the ground, his jaw clamping down on his tongue, his sword slipping from stone-hard fingers.

The lizalfos wasted no time to pounce. He scrambled to stand but his thigh muscles just twitched. The lizalfos piled on top of him till all he could see were yellow teeth and tearing claws. Their slime mingled with the blood in his mouth and finally, finally, his fingers decided to work again. He clawed at the ground around him, hand closing around the hilt of his sword, and brought it down hard on the skull of one of the lizalfos. The blow stunned it just enough for Link to wrench himself out of their holds. Unbalanced but furious, he turned on a lizalfos and swung. The blade stuttered for a moment against its scales then sliced through, nearly slicing it in half. The final two lizalfos circled him, snapping their jaws. They lunged from both sides and Link arced wide, striking one across the neck and the other below the groin. The first dropped dead, but the second slid down, wound gurgling, and writhed on the ground at Link’s feet. He brought his sword down through its skull. It twitched once then went still.

Link pulled out his sword with a wet, sticky, squelch. Bits of grey stuck to the dripping red- brain matter. Link let the sword fall and sank down to the ground. His feet pulsed in his boots, the friction of his socks against his feet making his skin scream. Slowly he began to unbuckle them and slide his feet out. Exposer to the night air just made them burn worse. Angry yellow-grey blisters covered the soles, radiating heat. Bad burns, but better than he would have expected. He looked at the smoldering black concave in the tree that had been struck by the shock arrow. Chunks of bark had been blown off by the impact. Without Sidon’s elixir that shock could have- would have - killed him. The thought set heavy in his throat like a stone. Link took a slow breath and tilted his head back. The trees towered around him. The rain rolled down his back and his seared feet and chilled him to his bone marrow.

---

        When Link finally dragged himself through the gates of Zora’s Domain, leaving a trail of mud and bloody footprints, Sidon was waiting for him there. Link’s body ached despite the fairy tonic he’d taken and Sidon’s voice was a pleasant distraction.

“I waited for you at Luta’s Crossing, but you never passed by. I hoped that I missed you and that you had already gone ahead to the Domain,” He said. “It appears I was wrong- I apologize.”

‘Lizalfo problems.’ Link signed. ‘But I’m here now.’

“Are you alright? I can take you to our infirmary-”

‘I’m fine.’ Link signed, face stony. He didn’t want to discuss his hike up the Domain any more than he needed to. The thought of the electrical burns on his feet made his stomach roll. Thankfully Sidon dropped it, though he did a terrible job of hiding his concern. He’s too open for a prince, Link thought to himself. Being so obvious about his emotions was bound to hurt Sidon in the long run. Sidon put his hand on Link’s shoulder and began guiding him to the twin curved staircases on the far side of the square.

“Father- the King- will want to see you as quickly as possible. I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed to meet you!”

A crowd had formed, dozens of Zora gathering around to gawk at their newfound hero. Link shrank under their gaze and pressed closer to Sidon’s side. Sidon squeezed his shoulder.

“They’re just glad all this mess will soon be over.” He said quietly, giving Link a soft smile. “There is no need to worry.”

Link could see their eyes though. He could see disgust mixed in the crowd. There were faces he could almost recognize, like bits of an old dream, and the loathing that shone from them was deeply unsettling.

The crowd shuffled to make room for them as they moved forwards, and as they split before Sidon, Link could see the statue behind them. It was a Zora woman, carved from luminous stone, glittering blue in the dark. Link felt his heart stop.

“That’s my sister,” Sidon said. “Lady Mipha.”

Link shuddered. He knew her. He knew the curve of her face, her soft voice.

“She was the Zora Champion,” Sidon said. “All those years ago. Father tells me she had the ability to heal that surpassed all medicine. ”

Mipha’s cold stone eyes shone down on Link like stars.

The sun here is pleasant and warm, nothing like the heavy, rich air of Faron. Mipha’s fingers are cool against his scalp as she threads them through his hair. Her hands are always cold- when they were children Mipha would marvel at Link’s warm, pink skin, so different from the cold, ridged scales of the Zora.

It’s been far too long since he’s visited. The King has kept him busy, and after an exhausting trip to the Spring of Courage with Her Majesty, coming to see his childhood friend and dozing under her fingers feels a lot like coming home.  

‘Your hands are freezing.’ Link signs, fingers lazy and playful. Mipha pokes at his face.

“You wound me, hero!” She says, head thrown back in melodramatic hurt, and pokes at his face again.

He swats her hands away and sits ups, and Mipha’s crimson scales light up as she grins. He wobbles a bit on Vah Ruta’s ribbed trunk and when Mipha reaches out to steady him she can feel the bandage through his shirt. She sighs.

“What have you done to yourself this time?” She’s already rolling up his shirt sleeve before he answers. It’s a well-worn routine between them, which is probably a bad thing, but her light hands are always comforting.

‘Lynel run in with the Princess. Ended well enough.’ He signs. He watches her carefully unwind the bandages. The lynel swiped him with its claws and left a trio of ugly gashes, but it honestly wasn’t that bad, he thinks to himself. He’s had much worse. The lynel wounded his pride more than anything else. Still, Mipha clicks her tongue and lays her hand across it, closes her eyes, and conjures her magic. It stings horribly at first, like ice picks in the wound, but then melts into a soft, cool sensation, blue light swirling around his arm like sunlight on water.

Mipha told him once, back when they were still children sneaking away from their fathers to gallivant around in Lanayru’s marshlands, that healing had to hurt to keep her humble. They hadn’t quite understood what that meant back then, but as Mipha grew and signs of the Calamity approached, the meaning became clearer. If you can heal without consequence, what would stop you from holding back death itself? You must be willing to inflict pain if you want to give aid.

“You really shouldn’t be so flippant about these things,” Mipha says softly. Guilt pricks a little at Link’s gut. Her face seems so sad lately.

‘You shouldn’t worry so much.’ He signs. It’s meant to be comforting, but the peaceful humor from before has passed. In its place, a feeling of unease begins to settle in.

“You know,” Mipha says suddenly. “This reminds me of the time we first met. You were such a reckless child, always getting yourself hurt at every turn.’

She looks up at him, golden eyes brimming with an emotion Link can’t place.

“I was always willing to heal your wounds, even back then.” The blue light fades and Link pulls his arm back. The only thing left of the wound is the bloody bandage lying between them.

“If these monster sightings and attacks really are omens- if this Calamity does in fact really return, what can we do?”

‘We have the Beasts,’ Link signs. ‘We’ll be able to hold our ground.’

“Will we? We just don’t seem to know much about what we are up against.” She murmurs. Mipha chews her lip and takes his hand in hers.

“Just know this: no matter how difficult the battle may get, if anyone tries to harm you,” Her eyes suddenly grow harsh and her grip on his hand tightens. “I will heal you. No matter when, or how bad the wound, I hope you know that I will always protect you.”

Mipha pulls her hand back and looks out at the water, still as stone. The silence stretches for so long that Link thinks the moment has gone. He stands, careful to keep his balance on the curved stone, and extends his hand to her.

“Maybe-” She says, slowly meeting his gaze. “Maybe once all of this is over, we can spend some more time together, you know?”

She takes his hand and lets him help her up. Her hands feel like ice.

“The soldiers she healed are old now,” Sidon said softly. “But they remember. They still love her dearly.” His voice shook Link out of his thoughts. He moved his gaze from the statue and nodded slowly. Sidon continued walking. It took Link a moment to remember to move him legs.

They climbed the stairs into the wide, open throne room. The Zora King was unmistakable; tall, broad, and regal in his throne, flanked by a shriveled old Zora who still managed to hold himself with pride and authority. Around them, the Zora elders stood in various states of distress. Their drooping heads all snapped to Link and Sidon as they entered. Link shot Sidon a worried look. Large groups of people were not his forte. Sidon gave him an encouraging smile. The room went silent.

“Link, this is His Majesty, King Dorephan the Third, and his advisor, Muzu.” Sidon said. The melancholy in his voice still lingered, but he gave his audience a wide, winning grin. “Father, Muzu, I am happy to introduce Link- the Hylian who has so graciously agreed to aid us!”

King Dorephan leaned forward, graceful despite his hulking frame.

“So this is the Hylian you have found for us.” He said. His voice was surprisingly delicate. “I am King Dorephan of the Zora. You did well to find your way here.” He paused for a moment. “That there, on your waist. Is that a Sheikah slate?”

Link nodded.

“Now that I look at you, it seems all too clear who you are, Hylian Champion. It has been a long time.” King Dorephan settled back into his thrown, smiling. Sidon’s royal composure faltered.

“Hylian Champion- Father, you can’t mean that Link?

“Indeed,” King Dorephan said. “All these memories- we all thought you had passed. I am glad to see you well, Link. I only wish Lady Mipha could be here to see your return.”

Link stared up at King Dorephan; the King’s wide eyes bored into him.

“Are you alright, Champion? Your eyes are empty.” King Dorephan said. “Have you forgotten my face after all these years?”

‘I’ve been …sleeping.’ Link signed, unsure of how to explain the situation. ‘I lost my memory.’

“Surely not everything, though? Your home here? Lady Mipha?”

Link’s stomach turned. There were pathetically small pieces of her- cold hands, red scales, lake water- but mostly gaping emptiness. Another person to add to his list of things he’d forgotten. He glanced towards Sidon for support, but Sidon looked too wrapped up in his own head to notice.

‘Not really. It’s all scattered. I’m… I’m sorry.’

King Dorephan’s face fell, and Link’s heart fell with it. “Forgive my composure- I cannot believe it. Everything, even her…”

Vah Ruta’s scream cut through the throne room, loud enough to shake the floor, followed by a blinding flash of lightning.  Even King Dorephan flinched.

“Let us move from these sad thoughts.” He said. “Link, as you have doubtlessly seen, my Domain is suffering. Vah Ruta has the unique ability to cause an endless supply of water. She has been shooting that water into the sky, and her rainfall is causing tremendous floods. While water and air may be one and the same to the Zora, it has caused severe damage to the Domain, sweeping away families, drawing out monsters. If Ruta continues, the Eastern Reservoir will fill to bursting. Everything down river- our territories, towns, Hylian settlements- everything will be destroyed. And without the reservoir to contain her rage, who knows what other havoc Ruta could reap. We need you to subdue her.”

The Zora next to him, Muzu, stiffened. His old, withered face twisted.

“Your Majesty, permission to speak freely?” He said. King Dorephan nodded.

“Do you really think it is wise to ask anything of the Hylain Champion, given his past actions?”

“ What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” Sidon asked, voice tight.

“You know full well, my Lord. That boy led Lady Mipha to her grave.”

“That boy has fought his way here to help us out of this goodness of his heart!”

Muzu laughed, an ugly, ragged sound, like the hiss of water on hot coals. “Goodness? Those are the actions of a guilty man! He thinks he can waltz in here and receive forgiveness.”

“You have no right to speak of my guest like this. Link is a fine man-”

“He is a murderer,” Muzu said. He looked to the elders around him for support. They mumbled bitterly between themselves and Link’s hands began to shake. Muzu wasn’t really wrong- Link remembered little of his life before the Calamity, but he knew enough. He had led the Champions to their deaths, each one of them, and the Princess to her prison.

“There is no greater offense to her memory than to send him into that Beast. He’s claimed he would protect this Domain once before, and all he did was let that mechanical monster swallow Lady Mipha up.”

“You cannot pretend that tragedy was only his doing!”

“That is enough, both of you.” King Doerphan said. His voice was quiet but sharp. Link felt Muzu’s eyes linger on him, burning and vicious. Sidon clenched his jaw tight.

“Regardless of Link’s past actions, we have come to an impasse. We cannot allow Vah Ruta to continue. We need him.” King Dorephan said. "We have managed to learn some things about our Divine Beast. We know that she requires electricity to work-”

“That’s why she’s been malfunctioning!” Sidon blurted. “A disruption of the electricity flow! If we just hit her with enough shock arrows we can get her working properly-”

“Sidon.” King Dorephan said. “Hold your tongue.” Sidon flushed.

“Of course. My apologies.”

King Dorephan cleared his throat. “As Zora, we cannot use the shock arrows needed to return Vah Ruta to our control. We need you for that.” He said. “Unfortunately, we do not have any shock arrows here for you at the Domain- they are too dangerous for us to own. We do know where you can find some, though.” He pointed with one massive hand out the large archways of the throne room, towards the dark, jagged mountain on the horizon. “Polymus Mountain. A lynel has emerged with the storm and claimed it as new territory. It is armed with shock arrows. Will you slay this lynel for us? I’m sure you will be able to gain enough arrows to take on Vah Ruta.”

‘Of course,’ Link signed. ‘ Whatever you need of me.’

“Good. In that case, enough with all this business and worry- this whole ordeal is finally almost over! I say we celebrate. Link, you must come to dinner in the palace tonight! Until then, feel free to roam. Perhaps some familiar sights will jog your memory.” King Dorephan said, but Link was already leaving. He needed to get out of there, away from the judgmental eyes and oppressive air of the court. Just as he passed the wide, open doorway of the throne room he found his exit blocked by a growing crowd of Zora standing at the stairs, gaping up at him. Link felt no doubt that they heard everything.

Link pushed through, head down, and tried to avoid touching them. They swarmed around him, yelling a hundred questions his way. A freezing hand wrapped around his wrist. It was an old, shriveled Zora, and while Link couldn’t hear exactly what heated words he spat at him, Link could guess they weren’t kind. Link jerked out of his grasp and stumbled backward. Someone shouted his name from the top of the stairs- probably Sidon- and Link used the crowd’s momentary hesitation to make a break for one of the dark, open, quiet streets, away from everything.

Chapter Text

The innkeeper’s wife, a lovely Zora named Kodah, let Link stay the night for free. He didn’t know her face but she knew him- knew him well enough to have a nickname for him. Linny was both adorable and deeply depressing, and when she showed him to his room and a covered terrace where he could cook out from the rain he couldn’t look her in the face.

That had been an hour ago. Now, in front of a mature fire, tunic laid out beside him to dry, boots kicked off into a corner, feet bandaged and shoulder tended to, the knot of guilt and unease that built up in his lungs was beginning to subside. The ebb and flow of emotions that followed him was becoming exhausting, but given his hundred-year nap, he figured he was due some exhaustion.  

“I finally found you!” Sidon stooped under the terrace’s roof, rain dripping down his face. The excitement in his face slipped as he saw Link’s bare chest.

“You’re injured,” He said. “You should have told me.”

‘Nothing too terrible. I can patch myself up well enough.’ Link signed.

“Are you sure? I can escort you to one of our infirmaries-”

‘I’m fine.’ Link’s hands were fast and sharper this time. Link gave Sidon a long, hard look, which Sidon returned. Link could tell he wanted to insist further, but instead, Sidon sighed softly and moved closer to the fire.

“And I’m right to assume you will not be joining us for dinner?” Sidon asked, though it didn’t sound much like a question. Link nodded. There was no way he was going to spend any more time around Muzu and the King than absolutely necessary.

“I figured as much.” Sidon sighed. He knelt down beside Link onto the floor. “Well, in that case, may I stay and join you instead?” Link looked up at him. He wasn’t sure what was more surprising- the fact that a prince had just asked to share a meal with him or that Sidon’s offer seemed genuine.

‘Won’t they be expecting you?’ Link signed. Sidon waved his hand dismissively.

“One night without me won’t kill them. I am my own keeper.” He smiled. Link decided Sidon had a very nice smile.

Water started to bubble out over the half covered pot. Link grabbed a rag and lifted the lid, careful to turn it away from him. The steam quickly dissipated in the cold night air. He pulled out a good-sized, thin, jerky-like square and tossed it into the water.

 Sidon peered in at the brown lump. It moved sluggishly as Link stirred the water. 

‘That’s pocket soup. It’s like…really congealed beef bone marrow. You throw it in there and it dissolves, makes a nice broth. Add in some garlic, onion, swift carrot tops- quick and easy dinner.’ Link grabbed his pack and began digging through for some plates. After a few moments, he gave up trying to be careful and started pulling junk out and tossing it down- a collection of rags and bandages, his tinderbox, two knives, dozens of assorted bokoblin horns crammed into a greasy, damp bag --

“You are an absolute mess,” Sidon said. “How can you find a thing in there?”

‘I like to be prepared!’ Link signed. He had a feeling that he used to be neater- still a hoarder, but one that could pass barracks exceptions. It seemed that talent melted away with his memory. He finally found the plates, hidden under Paya’s Sheikah armor.

‘I think I only have one spoon. I’m not used to company. Here, you have it.’

“I’m surprised you don’t have a whole buffet hiding in there,” Sidon said. The spoon looked laughably small in his giant hand.

 “You know, we Zora usually don’t eat food hot. Most of our cuisine is raw fish and greens. When I was younger, my favorite was always hearty salmon roe.”

Link scrunched up his nose. ‘That sounds absolutely disgusting.’

“So does a block of cow gelatin, yet you’re eating that.”

Sidon continued to pick politely through his broth, while Link abandoned the bowl between his legs and settled against Sidon’s side. Sidon’s body was cold and slick, and the firelight cast flickering shapes on his scales. The scales were strange- thick, raised, and very different from Link’s own skin. It was probably horribly presumptuous to be so casual around a prince, but Sidon gave off a vibe that made it easy to relax.

“So what is it like, adventuring and all?” Sidon asked. Link paused- it wasn’t something he’d really thought about. “Come on now! Let me live vicariously through you for a while!”

‘It’s all a little… overwhelming?’ Link glanced down at his hands, trying to find the right words. What should he say? I’ve only been awake for a few weeks after a century-long coma and I’m still re-learning the roads? I don’t know where I’m going half the time, and the moon cycle confuses me?

 But despite that, there is something hidden there in the back of his head- the smell of rain before a storm, dirt under his fingernails, and grass stains on his knees. He can almost recall nights spent up in trees, the belt wrapped around his thigh tying him to the tree branch just in case he rolls off, watching through the leaves long after sundown to see the fireflies and falling stars. Almost memories of a beloved wild.

‘I suppose I get to see something different than when other people look at it all? Because you can’t really see everything until you’re there, surrounding yourself with it.’

He’s not sure where the words come from, but they flow effortlessly.

 ‘It can be miserable sometimes, but when you’re close enough, still enough, you get to see the flowers start arching towards the sun, and the little mud burrows that the hot-footed frogs crawl out of when it rains. You can almost feel how alive Hyrule is beneath your feet.’ He glanced towards Sidon, suddenly self-conscious. ‘And, you know, punching monsters can be cool too.’

“That sounds… wonderful.” Sidon breathed. “I don’t get to leave the Domain as much as I wish. I have my own duties, especially now. It seems with every passing day Vah Ruta grows more vicious. Father is stretched so thin- I’m happy to be of help.” The smile in Sidon’s voice wavered as he spoke.

‘You don’t seem happy.’ Link's fingers moved hesitantly, unsure if he was crossing over a line.

Sidon placed his bowl down delicately before him and glanced up past the fire, towards the pale glow of his sister’s monument, barely visible through the streets and the rain.

  “May I speak freely with you?” He murmured. Link nodded.

 “Father is getting old. I should be doing more- these are my people, and for weeks I have been asked to sit back and let Father and the Counsel fix things…” Sidon’s voice tightened. “He thinks I’m too childish to lead.  He hasn’t said so, but everyone knows he believes it. I tried to approach Vah Ruta myself with Seggin… It didn’t end well. Father was furious with me. That’s why I was so eager to bring a Hylian here. So I could have a chance to save the day, prove myself…”  

Link straightened up and turned to look Sidon full in the face. ‘Frankly, I don’t know shit about royalty-but I know a good person when I see one.’ He smiled. ‘And I think a good person would probably make a much better king than some pompous hero.’

Sidon’s eyes went wide and his face flushed.

 The fire crackled softly, and a sleepy, smoky quiet grew between them. Link began to scrub down the dishes and hummed a little as he did. The red of Sidon’s scales melted in with the flames in the corner of Link’s vision.

“May I ask you a question?” Sidon said suddenly.  “You don’t have to answer if you don’t feel comfortable.”

‘Sure- shoot’. The wind shifted, blowing the rain into the terrace. The fire popped where the drops hit the wood.

“Do you really not remember my sister?”

Link put the plate down. The wind sent a chill down his bare back. Should he tell Sidon about the memory he’d felt? It seemed to be the only concrete thing he could conjure of Mipha, but it felt private- like her doubts and her promises belonged to her and her alone. They were not words meant to be shared with the world.

‘Maybe a little bit? Almost nothing though.’ He signed finally.

“Me too.” Link glanced up at Sidon. He was struck by just how young his eyes looked.

“I can barely remember her at all. I was just a child when she died.” Sidon said. “I can only imagine how distressing all of this must be. Waking up alone in a new world with nothing.”

Sidon’s gaze suddenly felt uncomfortable. Link shrugged, feigning indifference. He didn’t like Sidon looking at him like that, eyes wide and sincere. He wanted Sidon to smile again and let him pretend, just for one night, that the world wasn’t ending and everyone he knew wasn’t dead.

A screech cut through the air, loud enough to hurt- Vah Ruta, calling out again.

Sidon let out a deep sigh through his teeth. Finally, the sound faded into the wind.

“Actually, I brought you something.” He said. “I figured, after all these years, it would be best for you to have it.”

It was an armored tunic, made of blue mail, lined with silver embellishments- and across the collar and sides, red and pink Zora scales, cold and slick to the touch. They seemed to jolt just for a moment when he ran his fingers over them- like something almost alive.

“It is a Zora tradition that a member of the royal family proposes with a gift made with their own scales. My… my sister made this, just before the Calamity awoke. It was intended for you.”

Link dug his fingers into the tunic. The unexplainable look he remembered in Mipha’s eyes suddenly made sense. Of course she would have made him armor. He was a warrior- it was a gift meant to be worn in battle. Her love quite literally protecting him. But there was no love here, in the now, and the nothing he felt left a twist of guilt in his gut. Had she already started working on it during their moment on Vah Ruta? Had she finished it by then?

He felt Sidon stand next to him, but Link kept his eyes locked on the armor in his hands.

“Link- regardless of what my Father and the Counsel say, good and bad, I think you are much more than the Champion they are asking you to be. I’ve seen your compassion, and that is far more important than any title.”

 “I should go.” He said. “They’ll wonder where I’ve been.” Sidon placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I believe in you, Link. Now get some sleep. You deserve it.”

By the time Link finally moved back inside the inn and collapsed exhausted into his water bed, he still held the tunic in his hands. He sank back against the mattress, held the armor against his chest, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to conjure some kind of love for Mipha.

When he woke up the next morning the sky was still black with rain and the armor had fallen from his arms onto the ground. He hadn’t dreamed of Mipha. He hadn’t dreamed at all.

---

The trek up Polymus Mountain had been surprisingly pleasant.  The rain began to thin as he moved up the mountain- perhaps the height kept it out of Vah Ruta’s reach? Regardless, the coral-like plants that grew along the rocks sparkled pink and green in the drizzle. Link waded through one of the many ponds that pooled up under Polymus Mountain’s waterfalls. The roar of the water canceled out all other noise and formed strong, ripping currents, but the white foam the falls spat out was beautiful. Sidon told Link the Zora armor would allow him to swim up waterfalls, and he was dying to try for himself. Putting on the armor this morning had been uncomfortable, but here, with the water surging around him, the thought of Mipha’s proposal was far in the back of Link’s mind.

He reached out into the waterfall. It was large, so large that when he put his arm in up to his shoulder he still couldn’t reach the stone beneath- and how exactly was he supposed to do this? He jumped into the spray of the waterfall. Nothing. He probably should have asked Sidon more about the details of swimming upstream.

He moved back into the shallows. The falls met the pound underwater- maybe he needed to as well. He took a deep breath and dove back in with the current, letting it drag him down to the bottom. Goddesses help him if this didn’t work- he wasn’t sure he could break free of the current this far down. His feet hit the ground and he pushed up against it as hard as he could, up into the base of the falls where the two waters met. He surged upwards against the current, kicking hard, before he felt his legs break through the water, past the pond, into the falls, and instead of the sheer mass of water throwing him down, it shot him up.

He opened his eyes and all he could see was the white, churning water. The roaring water pushed and pulled at his body, and there was a strange, fluttering feeling in his gut as he moved up against gravity. His lungs burned but he kept moving, kept kicking until the waterfall spat him out and sent him sprawling in the grass above. Link gasped and gagged on new air. As he stopped choking he found himself laughing. It was ugly laughter, the kind that made his stomach clench, but he couldn’t stop.

That- that was amazing.

He glanced down at the rushing stream of water and felt the urge to dive back down and give it another go. The feeling of pushing up against pounds and pounds of water, of soaring up so high so fast- his heart was still pounding. He could do that for the rest of his life.

Of course, that wasn’t an option. Link wiped the wet hair from his eyes and re-secured the sword on his back. There was still a lynel to kill and some shock arrows to steal. The faster this was done, the faster he could get inside Vah Ruta, and the closer he could come to aiding the Princess. To finding some way to destroy the foul pig-demon-thing circling the castle. To saving the world- giving people like Sidon the chance to live a normal life.

Link jogged up past the final curves of cliffside onto the flat expanse that made up the peak of the mountain- Shatterback Point. A few trees peppered the plane, their trunks embedded with shock arrows, and the rain did little to hide the smell of gore and sweat. Link crept behind a boulder just as the lynel moved into view. It towered, red and mighty, a bow slung across its massive shoulder. Link didn’t doubt its aim- he’d have to stay close and out of range.

Maybe it was the adrenaline left from the waterfall, or maybe it was that his last fight ended with bandages and bruised pride- whatever the reason, the lynel in from of him, beastly as it was, didn’t seem so much frightening as it did fun.

The lynel turned, and it was just the start Link needed. He swung himself over the boulder, and for a moment, when the lynel met his eyes he saw a glimmer of intelligence.

It roared. Link charged.

The first swing was easy to dodge. The lynel swung down on the diagonal and Link weaved to the right, slicing the lynel across its front knees as he did. The wound was practically a cat scratch against the lynel’s thick skin. It lunged, and the sword passed so close to Link’s face that he felt the blade ghost against his hair. He backed away, keeping a healthy distance between him and the hooves. He didn’t doubt that one kick would shatter bone.

There was a pause for breath as they circled each other. The lynel snarled and Link raised his sword, ready for the next blow, but instead, the lynel dropped down and charged. Link blundered out of the way of its claws and slipped down on a wet patch of grass. The lynel took no time to turn around towards him. It opened its jaws and let out a rolling tongue of fire and a cloud of hissing steam. Link dove out of the way, rolled back onto his feet, and centered himself.

It breathed fire? Wonderful.

The lynel shifted and dropped, ready to ram him again, but this time Link was prepared. When its body flew past Link spun out of reach and sunk his sword into the moving flesh, letting the lynel’s speed rip his blade further into the muscle. The lynel howled. Blood dripped down its left leg where the sword struck. It sliced through the joint connecting the leg and the stomach, like a butcher’s cleaver through bone.

The creature lunged forwards, furious, and Link parried, only to misjudge his timing. He stumbled back to avoid the lynel’s swing. The mistake seemed to goad the lynel on, and it raised its head to let loose another mouthful of fire. Link prepared to sprint out of range when an idea came to him. The lynel’s body sunk down on its left side, and its injured leg bowed outwards, low enough to scale. It was a stupid idea, a ridiculous idea- Link bolted forwards anyways.

It took just one kick off the lynel’s leg to propel Link onto its back. Link squeezed tight with his knees, lifted his sword, and plunged it down, right between the lynel’s shoulder blades.

Somehow, the lynel didn’t drop dead right there. It squealed, a surprisingly high pitched sound for such a massive creature, and flailed wildly. Link clutched its mane with his free hand and dug his knees harder into its side, but he could feel himself slipping. The lynel bucked its body, snapping its head back, and Link lurched forwards. His sword sliced through the lynel’s neck with surprising ease.

The beast shuddered as its head dropped off its shoulders, and then collapsed onto the grass. Link hauled himself out from under it. Lynel blood dripped off one of his boots, red and sluggish; he must have stuck his foot into its leg wound on accident. The lynel head stared up at him and Link kicked it, watching it happily bounce away into a nearby puddle. He sheathed his sword, breathing heavily but evenly. Once the lynel’s body stopped twitching he moved closer.

The lynel’s quiver held a hefty amount of shock arrows, more than enough to take down Ruta, and they sent an unpleasantly familiar jolt up Link’s arm when he touched them. Link decided that once this whole ordeal was over, he would never so much as look at a shock arrow ever again. At the edge of the lynel’s hunting ground was a sloping path, and at the edge Link found a clear drop into the Reservoir. Convenient.

He unhooked his glider. Sidon said to meet him at the pier- he could almost see his red form, teeny tiny this high up, through the howling darkness that swallowed up the Reservoir. He should probably hike down the mountain and detour back to the Reservoir’s ground entrance- if he flew down it would be difficult to see where he was going in the thick thick rain, and if he slipped on the wet handles of his glider, those waves would easily swallow him up.

Link glanced over his shoulder at the lynel head. Flies were already beginning to probe their next meal. With a running jump he flung himself off Shatterback Point.

----

“Horrifying, isn’t she?” Sidon said, glaring up at Vah Ruta. “To think she actually protected this Domain- I find it impossible to believe.”

Vah Ruta towered, easily 50 feet tall, glowing bright through the swirling storm clouds above her, her rain blocking out so much sunlight that it might as well be night. If she wasn’t the most terrifying thing Link had ever seen she would have been the most beautiful. The waves stirred up by Ruta’s thrashing spilled up over the edges of the Eastern Reservoir’s pier, sloshing all over Link’s boots. He debated taking them off- would it be better to leave his shoes here and avoid the chafing of wet socks on his burned feet? He would ask Sidon but, well, Sidon didn’t wear shoes. Or any clothing really.

“Do you have all the shock arrows?” Sidon asked. Link gestured to the yellow fletching of the arrows in his quiver.

“Wonderful! Let us approach- we can’t let Ruta to continue for any longer.”

He explained the plan as Link climbed into the lake and onto Sidon’s back. The water rolled violently and Link hugged tight with his legs. If the waters were this choppy at the edge of the Reservoir what would they be like once they were in Ruta’s range?  Sidon took off, cutting through the water like it was nothing, swerving closer at breakneck speeds. He wasn’t bragging when he said he was unstoppable in the water- Link had never seen anyone swim like that. 

“Keep close to me- I’ll take us as close as I can; use the waterfalls to deactivate the receptors up top. Ruta has some nasty defense mechanisms. You’ll need to keep those away, alright?” Link patted his shoulder- there wasn’t much he could do to communicate with Sidon while straddled on his back. Link drew his bow and knocked a shock arrow. The smell of static filled the air and Link felt Sidon stiffen beneath him. Link realized how close the arrow was to Sidon’s bare back and the water around him- Sidon was frightened, Link realized, scared that Link might let the arrowhead get to close and burn him to a crisp. The realization left a tight feeling in Link’s gut, but to his surprise, it wasn’t fear or anxiety. It was a fiery determination. He would keep Sidon safe. He would keep them all safe: the Zora, their territories, the Hylians downstream. He could do this. He squeezed Sidon with his knees and hoped it was comforting. Sidon picked up pace again, and as he curved towards Ruta’s front leg her first defender came into view- a giant ice block, larger than Link’s head, the edges covered in jagged ice, sharp as broken glass. It shot straight for them and Link fired an arrow. The block crackled and exploded, showering them in ice shards.

Sidon kept moving, keeping a straight path towards Ruta’s waterfalls while Link shattered block after block. They kept coming, their jerky irregular movements making it hard to aim. Link couldn’t risk missing, not when he could electrify all the water around them. Two swerved towards at once, one easily twice as big as the other blocks Link seen. He fired, but the shock arrow only broke off a chunk of ice, leaving the block still mostly intact and shooting right towards him.

“Hold on!” Sidon shouted, and Link barely had a moment to breathe before Sidon dove down. Lake water flooded Link’s nose as the roar of the waves died down above him. The block flew over, barreling past where Link’s head had been just seconds before and smashed into another ice block, the two crumbling to pieces. Link spluttered as Sidon shot up out of the water.

“Are you alright?”

Link gave him an affirmative squeeze on the shoulder.  Sidon curved again, bringing Link right under one of Ruta’s waterfalls and shot him upwards. He breached the water and drew his bow.

Breathe in, breathe out; let the fletching brush by- for a moment everything around him seemed to slow to a stop as the arrow flew and pierced the receptor. It spluttered, hummed, and died, the waterfall slowing to a stop with it. Ruta groaned. Link dropped.

He remembered to take out his paraglider in the last second. The momentum of his fall jerked hard at his arms as it caught the air, but it was better than being squashed from a 50 foot fall. Sidon held tight to him while he struggled to fold the wet fabric.

“Just three more,” He said, helping Link climb back on top of him. “Just three more.”

He and Sidon quickly developed a steady attack strategy as they circled Vah Ruta’s giant legs, and soon the four receptors blinked out. Vah Ruta shuttered and stopped. She gave one last mournful cry and dropped her trunk, the rain slowly coming to a stop. For the first time since he arrived in the Zora’s Domain, Link could see sunlight.

“Link look- the water sprouting from Vah Ruta is slowing down!” Sidon said. His smile of relief was blinding. “Ruta is floating higher now. You wanted to venture inside, right? I’ll bring you closer.”

“Looks like this is where the real work starts.” He said as he helped Link climb on to the Beast’s entrance platform. Link shook the water from his hair. His Zora armor was perfectly dry. “Show the enemy no fear. I’ll see you back at Zora’s Domain. Farewell.” Sidon swam back from the platform as it shuttered and rose.

“You can do this!” He shouted up at Link. “Stay strong!” 

Chapter Text

The interior of the Divine Beast was black. The only light came from the entryway platform behind Link, the water reflecting golden patterns on to the stone. Link took a cautious step forwards into the darkness. Water covered the floor, coming up to his ankles. He would have given anything for a companion, a voice, just something to make the Beast seem less lonely. The air, tinged red and filled with strange soot, was heavy and greasy with the smell of decay. The smell made sense- Vah Ruta was a tomb after all, with Mipha’s body hidden somewhere inside. The thought of finding Mipha’s skeleton in some corner, the delicate fish bones broken and shattered by the Calamity stopped Link cold.

Even if he barely remembered her, she had been compassionate and loving- his friend. And the Ganon had stripped her down to nothing but bones. Her armor felt a hundred pounds heavier, ready to crush him. Nothing but bones.

‘I’ll kill it,’ He promised the open, unfeeling air of Ruta. ‘Whatever hurt you, I’ll find it and I’ll kill it.’ Nothing replied. The black and red particles in the air just floated lazily around his head. Link moved forwards further into the entryway corridor, but just a few paces down his path was blocked by pulsing red matter, clinging to the ground like sluggish stalagmites. Sprouted above it all swayed an eye, blinking down at him

The Sheikah slate told him it was malice, a manifestation of Ganon’s evil and hatred; a sign of his influence.

Link poked at it with his sword. There was a sharp hiss as the metal touched it- the malice had burned the metal. Link shivered. He didn’t want to imagine what the malice would do to flesh. It took just one arrow to pop the eye, and with it went the malice, melting away into the particles in the air. Great, Link thought to himself, I’m inhaling sword melting, hatred sludge.

He moved on down the hallway into a wide, open area filled with flowing water, winding stairways and, thankfully, open windows letting in sunlight. There were two doorways- one to the right covered by a gate, and one to the left that glowed a soft orange. Link moved left first. Rows of strange designs, buttons, and finger pads lined the dimly glowing structure on the back wall. It jolted when Link touched it- a control panel. It was supposed to be blue, Link recalled. It supposed to be blue, and the buttons should glow, their light following your hands like ripples as you ran them over the panel. This wasn’t right.

Malice bubbled around the panel, flowing up over its base and creeping between the buttons and Sheikah designs. Link jerked back as it crawled up over the control pads. Even being this close to the malice stung, singeing off the hair on the back of his hands. Whatever the control panel hid, the malice didn’t want him to find it. Making a mental note to return, Link moved to the rightmost doorway. He couldn’t lift the rusted metal gate himself, but his cryonis rune could, though the false ice groaned a little under its weight. The Sheikah guidance stone that stood in the center of the room hummed as it transferred information to his Sheikah slate, one drop of highly concentrated data at a time. It gave him a strange, transparent map unlike anything he’d ever seen, but Link felt glad to have to idea of where to go. There were small, blinking points on various areas of Vah Ruta, and saying as how he had no plan to speak of currently, Link decided seeking those points out would be the best course of action.

---

It was going well, all things considered. Link found his way up to the platforms above the second floor, the area below mostly taken up by giant turning cogs. He had figured out how to change their speed and direction by manipulating Ruta’s water flow, a feat he was very proud of, and lit the caged terminal in the center of the largest cog. Just one more to go. Who knew- maybe after the whole Calamity thing was over he could make a living out of solving puzzles. Link smiled at that and sat, the cogs spinning slowly below him. It felt nice to sit down- his feet ached, and he likely popped a burn blister. He unbuckled his boots and pulled his socks off. Moving through Ruta’s winding rooms had left him with a constantly growing feeling of familiarity. He could see almost all of the Beast from up here, save for the curved stone lines of Ruta’s trunk. He knew these places, knew these smooth stone walls-

'She hates me.’ Link signs, sprawled on the floor of the control room. ‘First bird brain, now the Princess-’ He flips over to watch Mipha run her fingers over a stubborn section of carvings on Ruta’s control panel. ‘That’s probably why the two of them get along so well- how much you want to bet everyone hates me?’

“No one hates you, dear.” Mipha says. She frowns and presses harder on the controls. “Revali maybe, but I have a feeling that he is a much kinder person than he lets on.” Link scoffs and stands to get a closer look at the piece she’s having trouble with. Mipha has only just been anointed as a Champion, and while piloting Vah Ruta is coming to her much faster than her fellow Champions, her frustration on her plateauing improvement over the past few weeks is obvious.

"Would you put your hand here?” she says, already grabbing his wrist. The control panel is strangely warm, and makes a bright, soft sound at his touch. Link assumes it is a happy sound until he sees Mipha’s face fall.

"I think she’s supposed to move when I press it, but she just keeps making that sound-”

'Mipha, it’s alright.’ Link signs. ‘It doesn’t have to be perfect, not yet.’

“I know,” Mipha sighs. She rubs her face and rests her arms on the panel. “It’s just, they’re all putting their faith in me by making me a Champion and I can’t just-” The room lurches and an ear blasting trumpet fills the air. Mipha’s head jerks down to the pane- her arms lit up a section of switches bright blue.

“Did you see that!” she practically screams. “Link! Did you see that!” Her tail whips back and forth in excitement. “I did it!” She grabs hold of his arms, almost vibrating. Her laugh is infectious, and in the light, her grin glows bright blue. “I did it!”

Link didn’t realize how much Sidon’s smile looked like hers.

He was too lost in thought to notice the mechanical clicking behind him until the blue, humming blade was inches from his face. He yelped and rolled to the side to face the creature behind him. It was a Guardian Scout, not unlike the training Guardians Link had faced in Shrines, but it felt... different. It pulsed purple and red, gurgling sounds leaking out from between its joints.

It shot out a series of white hot pulses that ripped through Link’s shield in an instant. He lunged and brought down his broadsword on its head. The dome caved inwards and split to pieces, and when the Scout collapsed snakelike pieces of malice slithered out from its broken body and out of sight. It was an easy fight, but its message was clear- this was no place for breaks. Link slid his shoes back on and stood. Just one more terminal to go.

The map said it was on the tip of Vah Ruta’s trunk, and after a few attempts and some trial and error, Link figured out how to extend the trunk as far as possible and glide down to it. The terminal chirped as he ran the Sheikah slate across it, lighting up a faint, triumphant blue. His slate vibrated- a new glowing point appeared right where the control room would be. Link glanced down at the trunk’s curved stone beneath his feet. His memory with Mipha had been here- they had been here, sharing doubts and promises. He swallowed those thoughts and jumped, sailing back to the open windows below.

Ruta became strangely silent as he approached the control room. The soft rumblings of cogs and moving platforms in each room hushed as the water around his feet became still. Link didn’t realize just how noisy the Beast was until everything came to a stop. Only the malice surrounding the control panel still bubbled, hissing when it dripped onto the wet stone.

Link leaned forward over the panel with his slate, careful to avoid the malice; the slate pinged. Link assumed the groaning and rumbling came from the panel, given its hundred-year infection, until the malice surrounding it flew off, slithered behind him through the air and across the ground. It circled around itself, melting into one giant pile of greasy, pulsing evil. It writhed, bigger than anything Link had seen before, forming arms, a head- and a spear easily twice Link’s length. The Waterblight stared at Link from behind its great stone mask, its one eye rolling, and screamed.

The sound that came from its black, dripping mouth sent a shot of panic through Link’s body and into his bones. He took a steadying breath and drew his bow; that spear was too long for him to get close safely with a sword. The shock arrows crackled as he spat them out, one right after the other. The first struck the Waterblight in the shoulder, blowing off a chunk of malice while the second clinked harmlessly off its mask. The Blight hissed, and swung its spear. The blue blade hummed as it shot past. Link leapt back and drew his bowstring again. The arrow hit home, striking the Blight in its eye. The arrow’s electric explosion cracked through the Blight’s horned mask, exposing the black bits of a face. Purple liquid oozed down.            

It could bleed. Link’s heart leaped at the good news- if it could bleed, it could die.

Waterblight shrieked and clawed at its face, trying to rip the arrow shaft from the cracks in the stone. Link took advantage of the distraction and ran forwards. He sliced deep through its torso until his blade skittered against the Blight’s chest piece. He pulled his sword back and rammed it into the Blight as hard as he could, shoving it back against the control panel. The mechanism shuttered and cracked underneath its weight. The Blight swatted him away with a giant hand. Link yelped. His skin smoked where Waterblight touched him, burn boils forming almost instantly. Shaking, he moved away and nocked another arrow. He was still aiming when the spear swung outwards again, catching him in the leg and sending him rolling back.

He knew that his leg was broken before he even looked down. Link could feel blood soaking into his pants, hot and thick. He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the sharp protest from his left leg. Purple blood pooled in the curves of Waterblight’s chest piece. Link pulled his bowstring back again- it snapped. Shit  

The Blight seemed to almost laugh at him, body movements jerky and mocking. Link steeled himself. He could work with this; as long as he avoided the spear, he should be able to get close enough to stab it. A distressing setback, but he would be okay. He would be okay.

The floor underneath him started to shake. Shit, shit-

Water surged upwards, flooding the room in seconds, save for a few square pillars. Link hoisted himself on one as best that he could and bit down hard on his tongue as his leg dragged against the stone. Waterblight hovered above him, bobbing like a dead fish. It raised its spear and hurled it at Link. He only just dragged himself out of the way as it hit, scraping deep grooves into the stone. The Blight leaned down to grab it. It doesn’t think I can hurt it down here, Link thought. He stood and as its head dipped over him drove his sword upwards into the cracks in the stone mask. It’s wrong.

 The Blight screeched and clawed at him, digging its malice ridden fingers into Link’s skin. Link smelt the metal and fabric of his armor warping under its touch. He kept his hands steady and twisted his sword in its face. The mask crumbled more, dust and Blight blood dripping down Link’s arms. Waterblight scrambled back, purple blood smeared across the mask. Furious, it swung its spear. Link had nowhere to go. It smacked him off the platform, knocking his sword out of his hands and somewhere into the waters below. He managed to drag himself back through the water and pull himself up. He started to stand but the damn leg kept him moving too slowly. The Blight swung out again and caught him across the stomach.

There was a moment of stillness before Link registered being hurled hard across the room into the control panel. His head slammed back against a row of buttons; Link felt a wet crunch, the noise vibrating in his ears. The world tilted as he slid off and dropped into the water. Everything melted together- which way did he fall from? He wasn’t sure, couldn’t tell with the violent rolling in his head. Link groped lazily outwards until he felt stone outcropping from the ground. He dug his fingers into the sides and slowly pulled himself up- if he was going to die, he wasn’t going to drown.

Finally, Link’s fingers found air again and he dragged himself halfway up. Above him in the hazy air, Waterbight seemed to shimmer as it drew back its spear for a final blow. Link flinched and squeezed his eyes shut, ready to be skewered- but all he heard was the grating screech of metal on metal. He opened his eyes slowly. A pair of red, scaly legs stood before him, blood-soaked and toned, connected to a small, muscular body.

“You leave him alone.” Lady Mipha spat. She pointed her trident at the Blight. “You and I- this is our fight.”

Waterblight hissed, circling above the two of them, and Mipha dropped Link’s broadsword before him. “I believe you need this.”

Link shook off the pain in his head and pulled himself up. His vision weaved and spun as he stood but he kept his eyes ahead. Mipha stabbed upwards as the Blight lunged towards them, her movement fluid and swift as a viper’s. She struck its neck, the trident’s barbs hooking into the putrid flesh as it thrashed. Bracing the trident’s staff on her arm, she jerked it downwards, bringing the Blight with it. Waterblight smacked down into the water, its head still surfaced and in reach. Link wasted no time. He thrust his sword into the eye, using his dead weight to sink it deep into its flesh, and twisted.

Waterblight screamed, clawing at anything its fingers could reach. Mipha gritted her teeth, keeping it in place as it thrashed. Its black hand wrapped around Mipha’s leg and Link pulled his sword from its face with a wet, squelching sound and brought it down hard on the Blight’s arm. It took three swings to break through whatever served at the Blight’s bone before the arm gave way, its fingers slowly uncurling as the limb fell from the platform into the waters below. Link could smell the burns its touch left on Mipha’s bare skin, nauseatingly sweet and meaty.

Mipha tore her trident from Waterblight’s neck, taking a chunk of flesh with it, and stabbed her trident between the growing cracks on Waterblight’s mask. She twisted her weapon in a hard, swift motion, the heavy metal breaking off chunks of stone. Mipha forced her weight down. With a groan the prongs of her trident burst through the other side of the Blight’s head, impaling it. It moaned, a painful, pitiful sound, as it slid backwards off her trident into the water below.

The water level began to drop, the platforms moving down with it. The Blight’s body hissed and writhed on the ground as the water drained, before dissolving into nothing, like salt in water.

“Good.” Mipha breathed. Her legs began to wobble and Link caught her as she collapsed. He should probably be surprised to see a dead woman in his arms, weapon gleaming like silver at her feet, but right now the ringing in his head was too distracting.

“You’re hurt.” Mipha said, noticing the unnatural bend in his leg. She reached out to him. With the Blight gone the energy seemed to leech from her. Her arms shuttered as she grabbed at him. “H-here let me-”

Link took hold of her wrists. Mipha’s face was a greying pink, and now he saw the source of the blood that continued to run down her legs- a hole in her side, edges ragged and raw, easily the size of his hand. The fact she managed to stand, let kill Waterblight was unbelievable. She couldn’t afford to lose any more blood.

“Link-” He pushed her hands towards her side. Mipha looked at him long and hard. It was becoming more and more difficult to focus on her face. Link’s vision pulsed in time with his head. Her wound was warm, a disturbing difference from the freezing skin around it. “Okay.” She said finally. The word fell out of her mouth like a hundred-pound weight. “Okay.” She swallowed hard and took his hand, placing her other on the wound, closed her eyes, and lit her hand blue.

Link knew it would hurt- he remembered that much from his hazy ideas of Mipha and her Grace- but he didn’t expect the guttural choking sound that came out of her mouth. She clamped her jaw shut. Blood began to drip down her gums as her sharp teeth sliced through her tongue and her grip on his hand was so tight he could almost feel the bones grind.  Her legs jerked and for a moment Link feared she was seizing. He pulled her against his chest and tried to hold her still. Was that helping, or was he just making things worse?

Finally, finally, her hand fell from her side and she stopped shaking, save for the occasional jolt through her limbs. Her head lulled back against his shoulder, limp as a rag, but at least he could feel her breath on his neck. Blood still flowed from her side, but slightly slower now, leeching instead of gushing, and the edges of the wound looked smaller and cleaner. Link pulled Mipha up, his leg teetering beneath him.  He slowly moved towards Ruta’s main entrance, having to stop every few paces as the room rolled around him. He felt strangely numb, his thoughts sluggish, like his brain had been stirred with a spoon. As they passed outwards onto the Reservoir’s the air felt stale and wrong in his chest.

Surprisingly, the Zora Guard waited for them at the pier, colorful blobs that dipped and spun across Link’s vision.

“Oh thank goodness you’re alright!” someone- Sidon? - said. “We saw Vah Ruta begin moving and didn’t know what to…holy Goddesses-”

Link passed Mipha off onto one of the Zora, stumbling under her weight. ‘Medic’ he tried to sign, but his arms just felt so heavy. Someone reached out to him as he tripped over his dragging leg. Link wasn’t sure if they caught him before the pounding in his head overtook everything.

Chapter Text

When he wakes for the first time the world is black and blue and cold.

He is only dimly aware of the liquid draining around him or the lights that hang above like electric stars. A Voice, soft and bittersweet, echoes around the room, and whatever, whoever she is stands out in his mind like an old dream. He cannot recall if it is a good dream or a bad one. The Voice dissolves into the air eventually, leaving him with the room’s grim, humming silence, and it’s only then that he stands. He falls as soon as his feet touch the ground. It takes two tries to drag himself up, digging his fingers in the groves of his containment bed.

The Voice tells him his name is Link. Even through the artificial drowsiness that clogs his head, he finds it alarming that he must be told his own name. He whispers it, and while it sounds right hanging in the air, the weight of words on his tongue feels starkly wrong. Link decides that whoever he is, speaking is not his strong suit.

He moves to the next room with his new Sheikah slate in hand, legs watery but growing stronger, and finds a handful of clothes folded with care. They don’t fit quite right and the leather boots are badly cracked, but it’s better than nothing. The boxes and barrels that line the room may have held something useful once, but now they are all but dust. Another disconcerting thought- how long must he have been asleep for so much wood to rot?

Link sits on the stairs, elbows on his knees, face in his hands, and tries to remember. He must be here for a reason- the device the Voice gave him almost pulses with familiarity, and he knows he must have seen these walls before. He closes his eyes, tries to fight against the wall of hazy nothing in his head, and doesn’t like what he finds-

Pain, not sharp and surprising, not anymore, just leeching, dripping, gurgling pain that fills his mouth with bloody foam. He’s frightened, so frightened, but he’s too wrapped up in trying to breathe to notice anymore. The liquid rising around him is blue and cold, and he’s not sure if he’s drowning or if this is the afterlife. He wants to call out, beg to the people leaning over head and talking of grief and Calamity to help him, but the water chokes him and it’s cold. It’s so damn cold; it swallows him up until his head turns to mush and he can’t think anymore-

The Voice calls out to him again and Link scrambles to his feet, searching for her in the darkness. He wipes away the tears in his eyes- if the Voice can see him he doesn’t want her to think of him as a coward. He glances back to the containment room behind him, its pulsing glow still visible. From here the containment bed is an open, waiting jaw.

--

When Link woke, the light coming from the windows was red and bloody, dyeing the stone floors scarlet.

A blood moon- so round and full it looked like it might fall at any moment. Even still half asleep the sight of it sent a shiver straight through Link. He shifted and immediately regretted it as the aches in his body fought in each direction for his attention.

He lay swaddled in blankets, his leg propped up, in a water bed easily twice as large as it needed to be. A haze clung to his head even as Link blinked sleep away, his brain struggling to piece together everything around him- a small room with wide windows and silver privacy curtains separating empty beds and pools of water. An infirmary, most likely in Zora’s Domain. The side table to his left was filled with varying pain elixirs- probably the source of the fuzziness in his head.

Link peeled back the blankets and looked himself over. The healer must have had a hell of a time- malice burns, wrapped and sticky with salve, littered his body, and his skin was a canvas of black bruises. The healers put his leg in a kind of split he’d never seen before, a sophisticated contraption that would certainly make sure his leg healed straight but still did little for the pain. Link didn’t know how much painkillers they gave him, but if his leg hurt this bad now then he was deeply grateful that he’d been out when they set the bone.

His leg couldn’t hold a candle to his head, though- blunt, hot pain spider webbed through his skull into his teeth. Link raised a hand to the back of his head and bit back a moan as his fingers brushed over the base of his skull. It was bandaged, the gauze stiff with dried blood, and though Link couldn’t be sure, he worried it might still be bleeding.  He took a steadying breath, his heart beating in time with the throbbing in his head. The elixirs by his bedside tempted him, but Link didn’t want to fill his head with anymore artificial cotton balls just to ease the pain. 

Link reached at his hip for his Sheikah slate only to see it placed atop his clothes, folded carefully across the room. Mipha’s armor sat beside it, shining red in the light, the fabric in pieces and the metal warped; completely ruined. He could only imagine how upset Mipha might be to see all her hard work destroyed. Link bolted up. Mipha! He struggled to get out of bed, his leg jutting out awkwardly. The room was empty behind the privacy curtains, but he knew she had to be somewhere. Gritting his teeth, Link wobbled to the door and into the hallway. He found her only three doors down, thank the Goddess- anymore and Link worried his leg might fall out from under him.

She laid in a bed instead of a healing pool, probably to support her side, sitting up and staring out the window.  A large lump sprawled across her legs- Sidon, fast asleep and softly snoring. Mipha ran her fingers down his crest and twitched her head towards Link when she heard the door open.

“You’re up,” she whispered, careful not to wake Sidon as she turned to smile at him. She looked exhausted, but at least her color was better. Green bandages covered her chest and most of her arms, shiny with ointment. Her head drifted back to the large window, flooded with a bloody light.

“To think the Calamity’s reach is so far it can even taint the moon,” she muttered. “Disgusting.”

Link hummed in reply. He met his first blood moon just days after leaving the Great Plateau. He settled down for the night in a recently liberated monster camp, and the Princess’ warning slithered into his dreams just moments before the moon reached its peak- a hair later and he would have found himself surrounded by vengeful bokoblins, dazed and unprepared. He could hear the strange, nauseating sound of spilled guts slipping back into skin and broken bones snapping back into place behind him as he bolted, and didn’t stop moving until he reached the relative safety of Proxim Bridge.

“How are you feeling?” Mipha asked.

'Head hurts pretty bad.’ Link signed.

“I can imagine. It was incredibly stupid of you to refuse help on Ruta.”

He shrugged. Mipha looked at him, quiet and desperate, and a deep discomfort began to grow in Link’s gut. He became acutely aware that this woman in front of him was a stranger. His fingers twitched, struggling to find the words to explain himself and his amnesia as his face grew shamefully hot.

'Mipha…’ he signed, hands doubtful and slow.

“I know.” she said. “Sidon told me that you lost your memory.”

'I’m sorry.’

“Don’t be, please. I’m just glad you’re safe.” She offered her hands and an invitation for healing. “May I?” Link nodded and eased himself down beside her bed. She laid her hands against the base of his head and even her gentle pressure was enough set off a fresh, fiery ache in his brain.

“It will hurt at first.” Mipha warned. Link almost laughed.

'I know.’ She closed her eyes, and as her hands steadied with the flow of magic the smell of lake water and sunlight spiraled up. It was a grateful distraction as the throb in his skull grew into a stabbing, shattering pain. Link bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, blood filling his mouth, until the pain melted away. New soft and gentle waves willed away the fracture in his skull, knitting the bone back together and clotting the raw skin. Finally the chill disappeared and Mipha peeled back the bandage.

“Good as new.” Her fingers brushed his scalp as she ran a soft hand through his hair, and Link knew in an instant this had been common for them- Mipha’s gentle fingers in his hair as the last waves of magic left his system, his head in her lap, open and worryless. He went rigid under her touch, unsure if he should lean into it or pull away. How could she even be here? Her wounds from her first fight with Waterblight were far too severe to last a hundred years. She’d been in pieces when she saved him- if not for her own healing she would have bled out. Could he ask? Would she be insulted or hurt? In the end, his curiosity won out.

“Waterblight beat me in the end.” Mipha answered him. “Its throw…its throw was too strong, and the malice just…” Her words faltered in confusion. “It just swallowed me up.” Link thought to Ruta’s control panel, seeped in the purple, poison tar. Had she been so close all that time?

‘And it just left you there?’ Mipha swallowed.

“No. I could see what Ruta saw. Could see it all happen- the destruction of the Domain, the suffering of my people. And it was like I could feel the Blight. I could feel its hatred, its rage, and its pleasure. It was so proud of itself, it- it just- it felt so happy.” The hand in his hair stilled. “It reveled in it all.”

Link heard her sniffle and it sent a knife into his stomach. He had done this, hadn’t he? He’d gone and fucking died and Mipha spent a hundred years suffering for it. Her armor was ruined, melted and ripped to pieces protecting someone who already failed her. His throat tightened. Mipha deserved better.

Link glanced up at her. Mipha’s eyes fixed on the window, her body deathly still. She needed better. He wanted her to smile, wanted to somehow wipe the ripples of pain from her face. He needed to- she deserved it, after all these years. He took her hand, leaned upwards, and kissed her.

Her lips felt soft and cold, just like the rest of her. She tasted of tears and medicine.

“Oh, Link,” she murmured as she pulled away from him, eyes sad. “You really don’t remember me, do you.” It was not a question or an accusation, just a simple, definitive statement, but it still hurt. She cupped his face in her hands and Link pulled away from her, struggling to his feet.

‘Let me do this.’ he signed. ‘Can’t I just do this for you? After everything-’

“You don’t owe me anything.” She promised him. “I could never ask that of you. It is unfair at best and manipulative and- and cruel at worst. Link. You’re my best friend. All I could ever ask is for you to be safe.” She reached out again. This time Link hesitantly took her invitation, sinking into a hug.

At first the hold was uncomfortable. The chill of Mipha’s skin leached into his bare skin and her sharp nails dug slightly into his back, but slowly, as her cold willed away some of the tightness in his muscles and her heart began to beat in time with his, Link realized that even without the memories of her, there could be nowhere in Hyrule that could be as safe and warm. He let go of the tension in his arms and leaned into the touch, resting his head on her shoulder. Mipha sighed softly, her breath tickling his ear. Beside them, Sidon stirred with a groan. He looked at them through bleary eyes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Mipha said despite the obvious lack of sunshine, smiling with Link still settled against her. “Sleep well?”

---

This time King Dorephan insists that Link join him for a royal dinner, which, Sidon told him, meant there was no way Link could wiggle out of another audience with the King.

“Insists is the polite way of saying demands. No fireside chats tonight.” He said as he fiddled with Link’s hair. Sidon rarely saw Hylian hair, let alone touched it, and seemed to share his sister’s fascination with Link’s head. Over the past week Sidon took it upon himself to see that Link felt at home in the Domain while Link waited for the healer’s permission to remove his split and leave. The two of them wheeled around downtown, Sidon torn between helping Link meet some of his old friends and helping him avoid them. Link didn’t complain when the Zora healer stuck him in a wheelchair- the sheer pain that followed his couple yard walk between his room and Mipha’s was enough proof for him that he needed one. The Zora’s talent for healing surprised him; he expected his leg to keep him in bed for a good month, but under their careful fingers they promised him that in a week he’d be up and out of his wheelchair, and in two could run a marathon if he so desired.

Mipha’s recovery moved slower. Cleaning out a hundred years’ worth of infection meant frequent checkups, changing bandages, packing wounds, and staunching re-opening cuts, and while Mipha insisted she could move the process along much fast if they would just let her heal herself, the healers set a strict rule- no self-healing, under any circumstances. Mipha claimed she wasn’t bitter about it, but her mutterings as she wheeled herself to and from the infirmary suggested otherwise.

Sidon tied off his attempt at a braid with pride, tilting the mirror so Link could see his handy work. It hung lopsided and most strands stuck out awkwardly instead of plaiting together.

‘It’s lovely for a first try.’ Link signed, debating if it would be rude to redo it before dinner. Link knew it was silly to worry so much about a dinner party, but the thought of sitting alongside so many highbred Zora left butterflies in his stomach. The light blue and white of his Champions tunic stood out against the purple bruises visible from the low collar. Battle scars, Sidon assured him. Nothing to be self-conscious of.  Still, he fiddled with the collar the whole way to King Dorephan’s dining hall.

The dining hall followed the same glittering architecture of the Domain: soaring ceilings, softly curved metal, and the glow of luminous stones reflected on every surface. The sheer number of Zora packed into the room surprised Link. He hadn’t realized how lacks the social structures between the Zora were; members of the Counsel mingled with common Zora, and the King leaned down in his enormous seat to speak openly with his subjects. King Dorephan’s wrinkles deepened as he laughed at the antics of a little girl hoisted on her mother’s hip, and to his right, shining under all of her jewelry, sat Mipha. Her brow was furrowed, and she chewed delicately at her lip as she listened to the old Zora beside her- Muzu, who seemed to be caught between a deep joy and lingering sorrow as he spoke with her, holding tight to her hands.

Link tried to mimic Sidon’s confident, unwavering posture as he wheeled himself into the room, said Prince trailing just a foot behind. The crowd of Zora split easily before them, a few calling out greetings to Sidon, whose diplomatic smile was almost blinding. He waved and shook hands, obviously in his element, and took care to redirect any overwhelming attention away from Link. Link couldn’t be more grateful.

  Mipha perked up when she saw them and turned from Muzu to tug at her father’s arm. King Dorephan straightened and called for silence as the two of them took their seats to the King’s left.

“The rest of our honored guests finally arrive. Better late than never, yes Sidon?” King Dorephan said. His tone was joking, but Sidon still flushed green.

“The violent downpour has disappeared, as has the threat to Zora’s Domain! It is all little more than a bad dream now- a bad dream and a wonderful awakening.” He turned to Link. “Thanks to your efforts, there is no longer any danger of a great flood laying waste to Hyrule. You appeased Vah Ruta and thusly saved Zora’s Domain- both our lands and people, but most importantly, our Princess. You brought Lady Mipha back to us! What you did for us is more than we could have ever expected of you. We are truly, deeply, forever grateful.” A stir of clapping broke out and King Dorephan quieted it with a gentle hand.

“Link, all of the Zora thank you from the depths of our hearts for your heroic and selfless work…and you too, Sidon.” Beside Link, Sidon’s head jerked up.

“As your father, I am proud of your fight against the Divine Beast beside Link, and as your King, I am beyond appreciative. You have grown much recently. I know you will be a worthy heir when your time comes.”

Sidon stared, dumfounded. “Father, I- thank you.”

“The heavy rains have stopped, and the Divine Beast is our ally once again,” King Dorephan continued. “This is glorious! Truly wonderful.  So let us eat, dance, be merry; let us show a true example of Zora gratitude!”

One of the Zora whistled, setting off a roar of applause, and Link felt his ears grow hot. Sidon squeezed Link’s hand, eyes alight, and over the clapping came bright, rich drum beats. Servers brought platers overflowing with food and music blossomed through the room from strange instruments Link had never heard before. The food platers across the table glistened and steamed; Link scooped a smoked hearty salmon on the plate, then some sweet smelling greens, cubed raw fish, fried octorock tentacles, fresh oysters- he’d never seen so much food in one place, and the sheer number of options was wonderfully overwhelming.

He had just downed an oyster when a group of giggling Zora crowded around them. One girl pulled at Sidon’s arm while a plump, pink Zora leaned down and threw her arm over Link’s shoulders.

“Come dance with us!” she said. “Come on, come and dance!”

The Zora in Link’s face smiled and Link realized he technically hadn’t taken a night off in a hundred years- a night submerged in music and friendly faces actually sounded fun.

“Pardon me, but if you don’t mind, could I steal him for a moment?” The girl draped across him bolted up, smacking her head on the table’s edge.

 “Lady Mipha!” she squeaked. “I didn’t notice you there.”

“Could I speak with you?” Mipha asked Link, paying no attraction to the Zora girls that jumped to coo over their friend and the soon-to-be bruise on her head. “Privately?” Link glanced at Sidon and the group of Zora, mourning his night before it even began, and nodded. Mipha grabbed hold of his wrist and almost yanked him out of his wheelchair, bolting towards a door before he even had the chance to move. She broke through the crowd into a silent hallway.

The party echoed darkly through the hall, bouncing around the softly glowing walls. Mipha jerked to a stop below one of the wide windows that lined the hall, the stars just visible as the sun began to set. The giant outline of the calmed Vah Ruta cast deep shadows across the city streets. From here Mipha’s statue shone clearly. Link wondered if the royal family spent nights watching her likeness from windows instead of sleeping, and if the statue served as a comfort or simply a grim reminder of what they lost- no, what they almost lost. Didn’t lose. Beside him, Mipha stared down at it too. Did the memorial make her uncomfortable?

“I want to give you something,” she said. She fiddled with the clasp of her bracelets, and the thinly veiled nervousness in her voice surprised him.

‘Is everything alright?’

“Yes, I’ve just- I’ve been thinking. You’ll be leaving soon, and I want you to be able to take care of yourself.”

Link laughed. ‘Mipha, I’m more than capable-’

“Please, just let me finish,” Mipha said.

“You’ll be leaving soon, and all I can think about is the possibility that our friends might have survived these hundred years as well. That they may be alive and waiting-” She leaned forwards in her wheelchair, their knees almost touching. “I can’t come with you. I can’t be there beside you, but I know I can still help. So I want to give you a piece of my Grace.” She held her hands out to him as she finished. Her fingers glowed, looking almost ghostly in the dim light. Link didn’t know what to say. His hands felt heavy and dumb in his lap.

“Link?”

Mipha’s face shone, her eyes determined. Link hadn’t thought of the other Champions; he’d been too wrapped up in pain elixirs and doctors’ visits to even consider them, but now that Mipha spoke the thought into existence it rumbled in his chest. They could be alive, couldn’t they? They could be alive. 

‘Yes,’ he signed. ‘Alright.’

Mipha let out a deep sigh and Link wondered just long she’d been thinking about this. She looked otherworldly in the dim light, and when she took his hands he worried for a moment that she might not be solid, just a red and green ghost, glimmering inches out of reach.

She brought their hands to her mouth, and Link felt her breath on his knuckles as she mumbled something in a language he didn’t recognize. She sat inches from him, close enough for him to see the individual scales of her face, and while he figured this was supposed to be an intimate, serious moment Link couldn’t help the awkward energy building up around him.

Just as he began to wonder if anything was really happening, a cold washed over him that forced the air from his lungs. It took hold of him, sending him tumbling back into dark waters. He sunk faster than a stone, the black waters flooding his mouth and nose and ears. The sand underneath him struggled to settle, the silty haze blocking out the sunlight that fought to break through the water’s surface, but when the rays finally touched him they warmed his skin until he could finally breathe again.

He opened his eyes, gasping for air- there was no sun, just the glowing of his fingers in Mipha’s hands, blue, green, and beautiful.

Mipha waited patiently for him to catch his breath.

‘Is all magic like that?’ He signed. Mipha laughed, the anxiety draining from her face.

“You want to find out?” She bit down hard on the soft flesh between her thumb and pointer finger, her sharp teeth mangling the flesh. Link stared at her in horror- blood dripped from her hand like lazy raindrops, splattering across her lap as she wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Let’s begin.” She held out her hand with casual confidence, as if she hadn’t just bitten a chunk out of it.

“Don’t worry,” she said, noticing his wary look, “the whole point is to heal it anyways, right?” Link nodded and took her hand. The warmth of her blood was an unsettling difference from her icy scales.

“How would you do it?”

Link studied her hand from a moment.

‘Really wish it to be healed? Or really want it to be?’

“You don’t want it to be healed, you need it to be.” Mipha said, trying to enunciate as best as she could. “For example- I need to heal my hand because I need to show you how to, and I need to do that because I want you to be safe, and I need that because- it goes so on and so on. It’s like a chain of needs.” As she spoke her hand grew steadily lighter until magic twitched on her fingers, waiting patiently to wipe away the blood on her hand. She flexed her hands and the light faded.

“You try.”

Link leaned over the hand and closed his eyes. He needed this because- he needed this because… he needed to learn, and he needed to learn because he needed to heal.

He opened his eyes and his hands were distinctly not magical.

“What are you thinking?”

Link repeated it back to her and she shook her head.

“You need to dig a little deeper than that. You just keep going until everything slots into place. It’s like… It’s like you’re trying to convince the magic to let you use it.”

Link thought having to beg magic to work sounded unreasonable and awfully stupid, but he bit back the thought and tried again:

He needed to do this because he needed to learn, and he needed to learn because his friends might be alive, (even if he didn’t remember them, or they were mad at him for making them wait a hundred years, or if he couldn’t figure this stupid magic out and they all died before he even managed to pull them out of their Beasts)-

“Link!” His head snapped up- he realized Mipha had been called his name for a while now. “You’re thinking too much.”

‘How are you supposed to think without thinking about it?’ He signed, his fingers catching on the repeated words, signs tight. This was ridiculous, and Mipha’s blood congealing all over his hands felt disgusting. Mipha smiled gently, and while Link knew it was supposed to be reassuring, mostly it just made him feel like an idiot.

“It’s not the words you are focusing on, it’s the emotions that come with it. When I am healing, I slide into the emotions that come with the words. They work together- if you don’t have both then you’re just talking to yourself.”

Link let out a steadying breath. Emotions. Great. He closed his eyes and curled over her.

He needed this because Mipha was hurt, and even if she didn’t seem to be in pain, he felt guilty that she went and took a bite out of her hand for him- but he was flattered that she trusted him enough to do this. The feelings were contradictory, but they both came together lightly in his stomach, tickling his insides. He needed to heal her because he needed to learn, needed to bring this skill with him to help his friends, even if he wasn’t sure they were friends anymore. The determination behind it was warm, flooding his chest like lake water, and Link began to notice sensations in his hands, like a pulsing heartbeat. When he opens his eyes, his fingers are blue, the magic barely visible and weakly trembling, but there. The magic blinked out almost as soon as it appeared, but Link still would have jumped from his chair if he could, hollering to the wide empty hall about his blue fingers. Instead, he grabbed Mipha by the shoulders and almost knocks her from her chair when he pulls her into a suffocating hug, ignoring how her tail crest jammed into his face.

“Let’s try again.” Mipha gasped against his chest and Link released her, grabbed hold of her sluggishly bleeding hand. It came easier to him this time, though still confusing as he rummaged around in his head trying to connect to feelings and needs. After a few minutes, his hands began to glow with magic, this time strong enough to stay when Link opened his eyes. He squeezed Mipha’s hand tight, and she hissed at the slight pain before holding her now bite-less hand out before him.

“Congratulations!” She grinned, wiping the blood off on the pretty white sash draped around her. Link could almost hear Muzu’s distressed muttering at the mess- it was amazing he’d even let Mipha stay out of his sight for this long. The old man gave Link a surprisingly sincere apology after Link first woke, standing at the foot of the bed with his head bowed, not asking for forgiveness for his actions, just acknowledging his wrongdoings. Watching the way he followed Mipha around like he feared that she might disappear if he let go for only a moment, struck a sympathetic cord in Link’s heart. Link was surprised when he first realized he wasn’t angry with Muzu. He was just a sad old man- a sad old man who’d finally been reunited with his almost-daughter after all these years.

“It gets easier with time. I struggled as a child, especially after Mother died.” Mipha furrowed her brow.

“I wonder if such knowledge could have helped the Princess…” she said, so quiet Link wasn’t sure if it was something he was supposed to hear. Mipha fixed her eyes on her glowing likeness down in the square.

“I’m going to return to my chambers- It’s embarrassing how little stamina I have now. You should go back to the party. If you see Muzu tell him I haven’t gone and died in some corner. You know how he gets.” Mipha smiled. It really was amazing how much she looked like Sidon.

She turned, leaving Link feeling strangely euphoric and melancholy at the same time. He brushed off the lingering sadness as he wormed his way back into the dining room.

Sidon was easy to spot- he towered over the crowd and his laughed carried, even with the soaring music.

“Decided to finally come join us?” Sidon asked.

‘Teach me how to dance.’ Link signed. For once the mass of bodies around him exhilarated instead of exhausted, and he could feel the beat of the drums in his bones. ‘I haven’t danced in a hundred years.’

---

Once the split was off and the healers gave Link their seal of approval, King Dorephan left Link with a plethora of parting gifts that Link knew he probably needed but still felt awkward accepting: dozens of elixirs, packs of medical supplies, and, most importantly, a horse.

She was a beautiful creature, with a grey-blue coat and elegantly braided mane, and while Link had never ridden a horse, he knew as soon as he ran a hand down her neck that, back before he died and the world went to shit, he practically lived on the back of a horse. A Zora guard, one of the only ones small enough to ride a horse, told him her name was Ru, and showed him how to remove her tack, rub her down, and pick her hooves.

‘I have no idea where I should even be going.’ Link signed later that night, lounging in Mipha’s bedroom. He sat at the edge of Mipha’s sleeping pool, pants rolled to his knees, flipping through the Sheikah slate while Mipha treaded water, resting her head against his knees. Sidon kicked lazily on the far end of the pool, sending gentle ripples.

‘The Gorons are the closest.’

“I don’t like the idea of you running around a volcano, even if Death Mountain hasn’t been active in years.”

“It is, now-” Sidon piped up “- the Goron I brought here told me all about the tremors and magma balls they’ve been having.”

“Death Mountain- active? Goddesses above…”

'It could be Vah Rudania.’ Link signed.

“I don’t doubt it.” Sidon answered, sinking deeper into the pool. “If Vah Ruta could cause so much trouble here, it seems very plausible that Vah Rudania could be aggravating the volcano.”

Mipha chewed on her lip. “What about the Rito?”

'Vah Medo?’

“You used to spend a lot of time there. You and the Princess both had a soft spot for the place. I’d leave the volcano for later. Go see the Rito.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to reclaim Vah Rudania as fast as possible, given the threat of an active volcan-” Mipha narrowed her eyes and Sidon snapped his mouth shut. “Or Vah Medo. I hear Tabantha is beautiful this time of year.”

Link laughed. ‘You’re a tyrant.’ Link signed to Mipha, and poked her with his foot.

“A tyrant who’ll pull you down in here if you’re not careful.”

‘You’d ruin the slate.’

“It floats- do you remember when Sidon dropped it off Ruta?” Sidon groaned.

 “Oh, please, Mipha-”

“Sidon hated the Princess when she first started coming to the Domain, even more than he disliked you. Truly, I don’t think Sidon likes anyone’s company-” Mipha stopped.

 “Liked anyone’s company.” She corrected softly. Her eyes hung heavily on Sidon’s face. It must hurt, Link thought, to wake up after a hundred years to a world different than you used to know. To find your home a ghost of its former self, your people exhausted, friends dead- brother all grown up, having lived a hundred years of his life without you by his side.  Link put his slate aside, its screen still blinking yellow and blue, and ran his hand down her crest. At least when he woke up he couldn’t remember what he lost.

Mipha straightened and cleared her throat. “He was a very shy, standoffish child. It took ages for him to warm up to you, Link, and he never quite warmed up to the Princess-”

“Because she babied me!” Sidon said defensively. “You make me sound like some kind of bitter recluse-”

“He wanted to see the inside of the Ruta. I told him it was very off limits, but one day when you, Zelda, and I went up to work on some calculations he snuck inside. I was furious, but the Princess was absolutely delighted- she loved that he was interested in the technology. She showed him the slate and the control panel, and all sorts of things-”

“And I got bored-”

“Sidon grew bored and went to sit in a corner with the slate-”

“I wasn’t messing around or anything! I just wanted to take some pictures-”

“He dropped it out a window. We rushed down and found it in the water, floating, and I thought the Princess might faint. Genuinely faint.”’

Link found it hard to laugh at the story- the reminiscing was meant for three, but only two could participate. Being the odd one out was uncomfortable. Still, he held onto the words. He may not be able to picture the events, but knowing they happened was better than the shaky black hole in his head.

‘What was the Princess like?’ Link asked. Mipha’s face crinkled. She paused to think.

“Very curious. No information was bad information in her eyes- she kept a meticulous journal, though she refused to let anyone see it. She… I believe she couldn’t tell which skin she should fit into. I saw her in many positions- diplomat, Princess, a researcher and expert- but she never seemed comfortable in any of them. She seemed happiest on those days out inside Ruta, but even then there was a shadow over her. I don’t think Zelda was ever truly happy.” Mipha settled quietly against him, and Sidon drifted next to his sister.

“I truly hoped we would come to call each other best friends, but then our time ran out.” She said finally, breaking the silence. “I hope she isn’t suffering.” Her words became a reminder that he had to leave in the morning

“You should stay. Just for a few more nights.” Sidon said, leaning up on the edge of the pool beside Link. Link didn’t answer. He didn’t need to- the three of them knew that wasn’t an option. Zelda was waiting. Everyone was waiting.

“You should get some sleep,” Mipha said softly, holding gently to his shin. “It’ll be a long ride tomorrow.” Link hummed in reply. A long ride.

Chapter Text

The most surprising thing to Link once he moved past the tall cliffs of Zora’s Domain and up north into the Woodland region, was how he clearly he could see Tabantha’s tower across the sky. The tower had served as his own kind of North Star as he traveled, an unwavering orange line upon the horizon. Now it stood proud amongst the rocky terrain, casting a shadow over Link and the road. He breathed in the chilly Tabantha air. He may have missed the Dueling Peaks’ and Lanayru’s towers, but he wasn’t going to miss this one.

A gentle breeze followed him all morning, cold enough to be noticeable, but not too cold for him to care. Link shifted in Ru’s saddle. The Tabantha frontier felt nothing like the humid heaviness of Lanayru, and its clean, paved roads varied drastically from the overgrown dirt paths he had followed through the Woodland region. The roads there were so faded that it was hard to pick them out of the flowing grasses, and the hills were flooded with green, backlit by the dense trees of Great Hyrule Forest. It would have been beautiful if not for Hyrule castle. The castle spilled out Ganon’s influence from miles away; the flaming smog above it mingled with the clouds, and even the wind was tainted with the smell of malice.

He passed travelers only once, a small handful of maybe 4 or 5 on the road, all planning to move as far away from upper Hyrule and her Great Forest as possible.

“There’s ghosts in that forest, boy.” one woman told him as they shared a meal. “Men go in, never get out. Man-eating wolves, monsters, ghosts- the place is crawling with devils. You’d do well to stay clear of it.”

Once he left the group, wishing them well on their travels, the road became still. The sheer emptiness of the plains unsettled Link, just as the silence of the Great Plateau had; he saw more ruined foundations than homes. No towns, no houses, nothing but empty wells and smashed caravans. Wolves prowled through the tall grasses and undergrowth, singing most nights as twilight approached. The sound of them made Ru anxious and Link knew better than to camp out in the open. The last thing he needed was for a wolf to take a chunk out of his horse while he slept. One night, when wolves sounded particularly close, he found a burnt cluster of ruins that may have once been a village and forced open the door of one of the buildings to settle down in.

The door had been barricaded with chairs and overturned tables, the wood swollen with water and rot, the walls black with soot, still scarred from a hundred-year-old fire. Once he cleared the furniture from the entrance he led Ru inside to the largest room of the two room house. It sat empty, most likely the source of the barricade’s fodder. Ru twitched her tail, already put on edge by the wildlife, and now having to hole up in here, cramped and uncomfortable. Link gave her a swift carrot in apology after he removed her tack. He ran his hand down her neck as she ate. She really was a beautiful girl.

He found a bed in the next room, the wood frame weak but surprisingly intact. The roof had fallen in, leaving a gaping window above him. While the night sky through it was beautiful, the sight of the crumbling ceiling gripped hard onto Link’s heart. The bed was large- did two lovers shared it? Siblings? A parent and child? Did they leap from it as hordes of Guardians swarmed outside, blowing off limbs and charring bodies? Had the two of them trembled, terrified they would be next, as they pushed everything they could find against doors and windows?

There are no bones, a hopeful voice inside him said, No bodies, no bones. Maybe they escaped. Maybe they lived.

Link grabbed onto the thought for the rest of the night.

The trek into Tabantha after that was simple and uneventful. He watched the landscape flow from empty rolling hills to rocky, yellow outcrops and followed his orange tower. Now it stretched up directly above him, the base just a few hundreds of yards away. Rocks broke up the road, hunks of stone piled together in rough formations. As Link approached the base of the Sheikah tower he gagged on the stench of rot and bile that hung into the air. Sure enough, when he dismounted and crept around a boulder he could see malice painting the rocks red and purple. Broken columns slanted down around the pools of malice, held in place by the reeking tar. Bokoblins patrolled the site, moving in packs under the orders of a hulking black moblin who leaned on his knight’s claymore and picked whatever was left in his lunch out of bloody teeth.

Link looped Ru’s reins over a drooping tree branch. The pack closest to him looked smaller than the others, and the rocks behind them were mostly free of malice. They seemed like the least amount of trouble- if he snuck past them and took out the moblin he might be able to jump from a column and up onto the tower’s rungs . Best case scenario, he’d be halfway up the tower before they even noticed him. Link unbuckled his saddlebag. At the very bottom, still wrapped in its delicate paper, the Sheikah emblem of Paya’s armor stared up at him. Link pulled his shirt over his head and slid off his belt. The cool air raised goosebumps on his arms as he put on the armor- Link already noticed the difference in sound as he hoisted himself up over the boulder for a better vantage point. Even his breath seemed softer.

Two bokoblins crept away from their group and sat alone, entertaining themselves by throwing various things into the pools of malice. One threw something small and feathered; the bird shrieked as it hit the tar, and as it burned the bokoblins’ laughter blotted out its cries. Link glared down at them. His soldier’s bow wasn’t the most powerful, but as he nocked an arrow, watching the bokoblins throw in another live victim and cackle at its thrashing, he let his arrow fly with as much force as he could.

The arrow buried into the neck of the left-most bokoblin, and before the second could even squeal another arrow sprouted out from its face. One bokoblin tumbled down into the malice, which bubbled and hissed as it began to strip the flesh from the monster’s bones. Link slid off the rock and crept closer to the base of the tower, stepping carefully over the disintegrating corpse. He scrambled over the stones behind them and prayed his footsteps would be silenced enough to mask his climbing. Link pulled his legs over a rock outcrop just as another bokoblin moved past, muttering to itself with its broadsword dragging on the ground.

The leading moblin stood below him, only meters away. Just as Link drew back the bowstring the moblin turned its head.  It yanked its claymore from the dirt and opened its mouth to call to its pack, and Link didn’t think, just fired on instinct -  breathe in, breathe out; let the fletching brush by – and the arrow sunk deep into the moblin’s eye. It dropped, pink and red soaking its face and seeping over the rocks.

Link bolted up onto one of the leaning pillars and leapt sideways onto the tower, digging his fingers into its rungs. For a terrifying moment, he dangled, before catching hold of the rungs with his feet. A horn blast echoed off the stones just below him as the packs noticed their missing leader, followed by a group of squeals as one spotted him. An arrow struck the rungs, just inches away from his foot, then another where his hand had been just moments before. Link’s fingers brushed over the top of the tower and with a last bit of stamina he hauled himself over.

Link took a deep, steadying breath and shook out his hands. The guidance stone hummed as it dripped information onto his Sheikah slate, and he watched the drops fall as the adrenalin pumping in his throat began to fade away. The map of Tabantha unfolded onto the slate’s screen- Rito Village settled in the northwest, surrounded by a wide lake and crescent moon forests. If the roads further into Tabantha were in just as good shape as the ones he’d passed then it should be two days by horse, likely less.

 Arrows plunked uselessly against the rungs from the bokoblins below. Link leaned over the tower’s railing. He could take them all out. He had the high ground- he could shoot them down, leaving nothing but sprays of red and gurgling malice. One bokoblin noticed him and screeched, shaking its tiny red fist. It threw a rock, which bounced harmlessly off the tower side back into its face, smacking its big, piggy nose. The bokoblin whined as blood began to drip from its face and poked gently at its nose; some of the monsters around him forgot their anger to sit and pat the bokoblin’s face. They all sniffled together. Link lowered his bow. There were better uses for arrows.

---

The weather forced Link to change out of the Sheikah armor eventually. Link decided he quite liked the armor- the fabric was soft and light, certainly more breathable than the thick cotton of his tunic, and there was a strange comfort that came from wearing a mask. But as he continued up along Tabantha’s roads, the altitude rising and the temperature dropping, the growing chill forced him out of his Sheikah gear and into his warm doublet. He promised he would remember to thank Paya the next time he visited Kakariko.

Link passed more and more people as he moved, all traveling the opposite direction as him. His suspicions were confirmed when he found a stable just around the bend; they always seemed teeming with life, but the sheer number of people was surprising. Merchants and travelers streamed inside the small building or shouted to each other as they moved passed him. They hurried as a light drizzle opened up over head, the grey clouds threatening a heavier storm, and Link swallowed down frustration as the rain began to soak through the back of his doublet. Was a little break from storm clouds too much to ask? Link dismounted. He was done with traveling in the rain- he experienced more than enough of that with the Zora. He’d pay for the night and wait the rain out- the Rito could wait for one more day. Link passed off the reins to a stable hand, leaving a blue rupee in their hand as a tip, and unbuckled his packs from Ru’s saddle. He slung them over his shoulder just as the first pearl of thunder rolled across the sky.

'Bed and meal.’ Link signed to the woman at the front desk. She slouched over the counter, dark circles under her eyes that looked almost cartoonish in size.

“Twenty rupees for a bed- soft beds not currently available- and ten for dinner.” She said. Her voice sounded even more exhausted than she looked. Link wondered how long she’d been working through all this commotion. He passed over the money and the woman sighed as another traveler pushed passed him to the counter, weighed down by goods. He raised his eyebrow when he met Link’s eye, a not so subtle offer to sell, and stumbled under the weight of his pack as an old woman shoved him aside to throw her rupees at the counter.

Link found his way to a table and plopped down. The air was thick, smoke rising from the fireplace in the far side of the room, a pot of something bubbling on top of it. The stable was small and stout- the back wall brick, the mortar black with age, and its uneven shape made Link suspect it came from some abandoned ancient building, probably left from the Calamity. New wood and canvas sprouted around it, using it as a backbone for the rest of the building. Old and new smashed together, steadily growing from the history of disaster that dusted over Hyrule like dirt on a windy day. It was a refreshing and reassuring sight.

“You paid for some dinner, right?” the stable hand in front of him asked. She looked around his age and a good four inches taller, tanned and freckled, but the most noticeable thing was her hair: full and fire red, curling softly at her waist. She placed a bowl of creamy, orange soup in front of him, with bits of ham and cheese floating on the top.

“So,” she said, leaning against the table. “Soldier, militia, or traveler?” Link blinked. She pointed to the sword on his back and the quiver at his hip. “You’re pretty well-armed. Soldier, militia, or traveler?”

‘Traveler?’

“Just a traveler? I was hoping you were a knight or somethin’ with all that gear. Can I sit?” She sat before he could reply. “So, where are you heading to, Mr. Traveler?”

‘Link,’ he signed. ‘My name’s Link.’

“Malon.” The stable girl said, holding out her hand. It was rough, warm, and callused.

‘I’m heading to Rito Village.’ He signed. She gave a low whistle, but Link didn’t hear her, already too busy eating. The soup tasted strangely familiar, so much better than the dried meats and fruits he’d been eating out in the grasslands. He scarfed down a few messy spoonfuls and Malon laughed.

“The cheese is fresh- from our own goats. Gotta import the pumpkins though.” She said. Link wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Rito Village, huh? Then it’s a good thing you’ve got that sword. Bandits have been popping up more and more lately- feels like every other day we’ve got some poor guy wanderin’ in, stripped down to his shoes. All these people pouring out of the area means easy pickings for ‘em.”

‘People leaving the area?’

“Haven’t you seen the giant bird-thing in the distance? That’s why all everyone’s crowding the streets. The bird-thing’s been terrorizing the Rito for weeks now, but it could move at any time. What if it leaves Rito Village and comes southward? They’re all leaving while they still can.” Link nodded slowly. He hadn’t noticed any giant ‘bird-thing’ yet, but something like that so close to the Rito had to be Vah Medo. He looked out to the wide doors at the worsening storm. Two stable hands, soaked to the skin, sat at the open doors, welcoming in passersby.

“A stable’s door always stays open.” Malon said, noticing Link also watching them.  “Our job is to help people, keep them safe and, hopefully, happy. So the stable door stays open, no matter the time or weather- at least, my dad’s do. He owns a few stables in the area: Serene Stables, Rito Stables, Tabantha Bridge…”

'Did you grow up in here?’ Link asked. A child in a tiny, tiny uniform was outside in the rain, helping a woman unpack cargo - perhaps her sibling?

“Grew up a bit of everywhere, movin’ all over with my dad, but I started pulling my own weight around here at, what, 11 maybe? Sometimes I go down to Serene Stables and give a hand there, or go move goods around, but I’m here with the horses mostly.”

‘You don’t wait tables?’

“Oh Goddesses, no. Delilah is just pissed with me.” She flicked her head towards the woman at the counter. “Usually I’m down at the stalls, but I spooked away a customer a week ago, told him off for over working his donkey. So now I’m stuck on dish duty until Delilah decides I’ve suffered enough. Working with customers is a pain- no offense” She said. Link waved it off.

”They’re just so rude- horses don’t give you shit unless you deserve it. I sneak out to the stalls every now and then when she’s napping; help with the tack and brush ‘em down. Sooner or later she’ll cave. Andrew- our other horse boy- he has no idea what he’s doing, poor guy. Somebody’s gotta help him out.” She shifted back in her chair, stretching out her long legs under neither the table. “So- why bother going to Rito Village anyways?” She asked.

‘Giant bird-thing. I’m going there to help however I can.’  Link signed. Malon laughed.

“That’s awfully noble.”

'Not noble- necessary.’ She smiled and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear

 “My dad would like you, Link the Traveler. He’s in Rito Stable right now- none of the stable hands stayed. It’s too close to Rito Village for them, but dad refuses to leave.” She stopped and looked him over, eyes lingering on his sword. “Would you do me a favor? Would you stop by Rito Stable and check on him on your way to the village? You’ll recognize him easy- big nose, bigger mustache. It’s only a day’s ride if you move fast and don’t stop.”

Malon’s eyes looked a sleepy kind of sad, the kind that was so constant it became almost unnoticeable. Link wondered how long her father had been away- how long Vah Medo lingered over his head while she waited alone. No one should have to wait alone.

‘Why don’t you just come with me?’

“What?”

‘You said it’s only a day’s ride. You could leave, see him, and come back before anybody realized you were gone.’

“Delilah would notice.”

‘Are you that scared of her?’

A twinge of a smile began to grow on Mal’s lips as she considered the offer. “I’m not scared of anyone!”

‘Then come!’

“…I do know a side route that would let us avoid the congested roads. I used to use it a lot when I’d make cheese runs to the Rito.” She said. “We could make it in record time- and of course,” she stood and stretched, voice suddenly high and dramatic, “you’d protect me with your big sword.”

‘Any foul beast we meet shall taste the sting of my blade.’ Link puffed up his chest and lifted his chin. Malon snorted.

“Oh, sweet traveler, what would my waifish self do without your aid?”

Link leaned forwards in his chair, as close as he could to Malon. ‘Perish.’ Mal squeezed his shoulder.

“In all honesty though, you gotta be careful. Bandits are one thing, but a patron told us he saw a Yiga soldier on his way back from Rito Village a few days ago. The third sighting this month.” Link frowned. Yiga clan. He heard of them only once, when Cado pulled him aside after first meeting with Impa.

“They’re traitors,” Cado had said, voice low. “Sheikah who betrayed their people, their history, and turned against the royal family. They dedicated themselves to aiding Ganon however they can. I doubt your presence has gone unnoticed- right now, you’re their Master’s biggest threat.” Cado leaned in close, gripping tight onto Link’s arm. “Watch your steps, Link. Beware of the Yiga clan. They are not to be underestimated.”

Link patted Mal’s hand.

‘Don’t worry. I like to think I know how to use this sword pretty well.’

Malon smiled. “Would you like another bowl?” She said, holding up his empty one. “On the house-” she winked “Just don’t tell anyone.”

--

The rain stopped by time Link woke up, thank the Goddess. It was chilly enough as it was, and a drizzle would have made everything worse. The sky was a haze, fog swirling just out of reach and blotting out the threadbare sunlight. Link rubbed his hands together. Getting out of bed this morning proved to be difficult, with the cold air drifting past the open doors and the thick, smoky quilt wrapped around him. Now as he stood in the morning cold he wanted nothing more than to crawl back under the covers- waking at dawn was easy when you slept on the ground out the in open, but when it meant leaving a warm bed it felt like torture.

 “Rainy and foggy- I swear if a cold spell rolls in this early in the year I’m gonna move to the Gerudo Desert.” Malon came around the edge of the building, their horses on lead reins beside her. She passed Ru off to him and slipped into the saddle of her own horse so fast and smoothly it looked unnatural. The horse didn’t have Ru’s striking kind of beauty; he was just simple and plain, but still formidable. Malon ran a gentle hand along his neck.

 “You’re horse’s awfully pretty,” Malon said as Link hoisted himself onto Ru’s back. Link moved his fingers down her mane, catching on a few knots.

‘Gift from a Zora.’

“Zora? I didn’t know they rode horses.”

‘They don’t.’

Malon clicked her tongue and the horse spurred forward. Link followed close behind as they moved off the paved road and onto a sliver of trodden dirt. There was little room for conversation between the two of them as they moved. Malon promised they would be there in a day, and she seemed to be hell bent on keeping that promise as she moved forwards at breakneck speeds. Link could immediately tell when they began to get close- when he glanced up to the clouds from his position bent over Ru’s neck he almost fell out of rhythm with her gait. Malon slowed to a trot and let him readjust, but Link mostly just stared at the giant, stone bird gliding in the air. It moved in slow, lazy circles, and in that one look Link knew it had to be Vah Medo. Nothing so large could stay afloat like that unless it was interlaced with Sheikah tech.  

“That’s the bird-thing.” Malon said, not even glancing up. “It’s somethin’, isn’t it?” She decided it was as a good time for lunch as any and slipped out of the saddle, slick as oil. She flopped down on the tall grass and Link settled down beside her. The chill kept getting worse, now so bad that Link dug out a pair of gloves from his pack. They’d belonged to the old man- King?- , just as the doublet had, and while Link could cuff the sleeves and belt the waist of the doublet to make it fit his much-smaller-than-the-King frame, there was no changing how absurdly big the gloves were on his hands.

“Maybe it is a good thing you’re going to Rito Village.” Malon said, mouth full of apple. “They’ll have proper warm clothes there, ‘cus if a cold spell is rolling in, you’re in for a bad time.”

‘Rather be waiting tables right now?’

 “Goddess, no. Delilah won’t allow anyone to sit and eat while customers are eating- unprofessional looking or somethin’. I wouldn’t be eating ‘til sundown. Can’t wait until dad comes home and knocks her off her high horse.” She passed Link a water skin. He took a deep swig and gagged.

‘That’s not water.’ He signed and wiped the chokingly strong alcohol from his chin.

“’ Course not, it’s some of Andrew’s toddy. Keeps you warm.”

‘Alcohol makes you feel warmer, but lowers your core body temperature.’ He signed, almost out of reflex. Someone told him that- probably Mipha or the Princess.

“Your loss.” Malon took a small sip. “Though, toddy is nothing like spiced wine on a freezing day, during that first snow of the season- did you hear that?” She screwed the cap on the drinking skin. “I could have sworn I-”

 “Help!” Link leaped to his feet at the voice and Malon slowly stood.

“I don’t see anyone. Do you-?” Malon said, glancing around the flat, empty roadside. The voice callout again and Link bolted after it.

“Wait-” Malon called after him. “Damn it, Link! Wait up!”

Link barely made it 30 meters before he almost tripped over the voice’s owner, who lay sprawled in the grass.

“Shit.” Malon breathed as she came up over Link’s shoulder. The man was dressed simply and cleanly, but his face was red and sticky with tears. His left eye was swelling, soon to be purple, one ankle twisted in an unnatural direction- blood seeped from the other one.

“Oh, thank Hylia!” He said, voice thick and tight with crying.

“What happened?” Malon asked, crouching to see his ankles.

“Bandits. They took off with my horse and left me here.” He swallowed deeply and Malon probed the bleeding ankle, rolling up his pant leg to get a better look at his bare feet. “I- I thought, I thought I was going to die.” He whispered before breaking into a fresh wave of tears. Malon turned over her shoulder to Link, face crinkled and dark.

“His ankle is looks shattered. It may not be… fixable…” She said softly. The man’s cries turned hysterical.

 “Not fixable? Not fixable? Oh God, I’m going to lose my foot- they’re going to cut my foot off, oh God, oh God-”

“Sir,” Malon said, resting a careful hand on his thigh, “I need you to stay calm, okay? There’s a stable just a few miles away. My friend and I can take you there and get you help.” Link moved beside her.

‘I’m good with healing.’ Link signed, which wasn’t quite the truth but was better than saying nothing. ‘Let me see him.’ Malon scooted to the side.

‘Can you sit up?’

“With some help, yes.” The man stuck out his hand and Link grabbed hold of it. Instead of letting Link pull him up he yanked Link down almost on top of him, so close that Link’s nose brushed his swollen cheek. The man smelled strange, like old spices and magic.

“Hello, Hero,” he breathed in his ear. “Fancy meeting you here.”

There was a flash of bright red light and a blast of heat and smoke in Link’s face. He reeled back, eyes watering. The stone strong hand around his own ripped him back to the ground. The man rolled on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with his knees. The bruised, tear stained face was gone- a bastardized Sheikah emblem stared down at him, red as blood. Malon screamed and Link jammed his knee up into his stomach, stunning the Yiga foot soldier enough to scramble out from under him.

The soldier was up as soon as Link was, a vicious curved blade in his hand. He surged forwards, far faster than Link could have expected, and swiped at Link’s gut, slicing through the outer fabric of his doublet. Link stumbled back and raised his sword. The force of the Yiga soldier’s next blow forced him back- the sickle’s edge caught on the blade. Link jerked his hands to the side, almost ripping it from the foot soldier’s grip. The soldier abandoned his weapon, pulled down, and dropped.

He slid between Link’s legs- Link spun and the soldier caught him in the face midturn, fist smashing into his cheekbone. Link didn’t feel that bone break, but knew the exact moment his nose did as the soldier grabbed him by the hair and snapped his head down onto the soldier’s knee. Link could taste blood and snot, soaking his lips and dripping down the back of his throat.

The soldier took a step forwards, fingers curling and uncurling, elbows propped up into a boxer’s stance. He moved to strike Link again when a fist sized rock slammed into his shoulder. The Yiga soldier jerked still and whipped around to where Malon stood, her arm pulled back and ready to let another rock fly. Her eyes widened and every drop of blood drained from her face as he bolted towards her. He didn’t make it far. Link grabbed him by the waist, hoisted him in the air and slammed him down into the grass. The soldier choked as all the air was forced from his lungs, then again as Link slammed his foot down into his gut. He put as much weight on him as he could, pinning him in place, and brought the tip of his blade to the Yiga soldier’s neck.

“We’re watching you, Hero.” He wheezed, his words muffled by the mask. His Hylian accent was gone, replaced by a sharp, husky Sheikah one. “We have eyes everywhere. We see every step you walk, every breath you take- every friend you meet.” Link leaned forward, digging his heel further into his chest. “Beware the eyes of the Yiga.” The soldier brought his hands together. A sharp snap echoed through the air and a spill of red covered him.

When the smoke faded the singed grass beneath the soldier was empty. All that was left was a few slips of spell paper that began to flutter away with the wind. Link grabbed one- there was writing on it, not unlike the ancient Sheikah letters he saw in inside his slate, painted with a careful hand in red ink. The paper grew painfully hot and melted away into ash in his hands. Link wiped it on his trousers and spat blood on the grass. He turned to Malon, whose face still looked grey. Link sheathed his sword.

“Your face…” she said. Her hand twitched as if she meant to reach out to him and wipe the dripping red from his mouth.

‘It’s fine.’ It didn’t feel fine, not at all. His cheek was already tight with swelling. At least now he’d have a chance to practice with some of Mipha’s Grace.

‘You okay?’ He signed. Malon stood so still that Link thought think she didn’t hear him at first. She slowly nodded. The Yiga foot soldier’s sickle lay just a few feet away from Link’s feet. He leaned down and picked it up before presenting Malon with the hilt. She gingerly took it, as if it might bite her, or her touch might summon back its owner.

“We should keep going.”  She murmured as she stared at its glittering metal. She hooked the blade at her side and looked up at him. The incase he comes back hung in the air even if she didn’t say it.

Chapter Text

They rode in silence for the rest of the day, not the easy, necessary silence of the morning’s ride but a painful, anxious one. Link wished they could slow down enough to talk, to stop the spiraling thoughts in his head. The Yiga could do that? They could look like anyone else?  Link had imagined them much differently, people almost akin to knights- not someone who would manipulate another person’s kindness. Had the Yiga soldier been laying there waiting for any random traveler who walked past, or had he been following them? The last thought was uncomfortable and likely true. Link glanced towards Malon. Riding seemed to help calm her. He shouldn’t have invited her to come. He should have known better.

“Do you smell smoke?” She asked as the path reconnected to the road and opened up to Rito Stable. Link couldn’t smell much of anything; the scent of magic still hovered around his head.

“Good heavens…”

Rito Village stretched upwards just a stone’s throw away, but its bridges and roosts were marked with ash. The clumps of trees that encircled the village’s rock formations hung low, now just the charred remains of a doused fire. The air was clear but still carried the greasy heaviness of old smoke. Malon dismounted. The front grounds of Rito Stable were still, but hordes of footsteps marked the muddy ground.

Above them, Vah Medoh circled the village, unsettlingly close. It cast deep shadows the ground, like a stone, distorted cloud. Link could see the pink glow from its eyes from down here and is seemed as soon as he met its gaze the Divine Beast screeched. The air shook even after the sound faded. Link recognized that sound. It was shriller than Ruta’s cries, high pitched and searing, but still the same call. It jerked up, rising higher back into the sky until the clouds swirled around it like a mask. How the hell was he even supposed to get up in that thing? He doubted it would come down for him.

“Oh, of course, Hero! You ask so nicely, I just have to let you in!” It would say in its Sheikah-Bird-Screeching language, and he could be in-and-out and save the Rito by tomorrow night. Very likely.

One man sat on a bench outside the stable front, speaking quietly with a Rito woman. She balanced a dully colored fledgling on her hip; the little girl kept glancing behind her towards the mess that had once been Rito Village, wiggling in her mother’s arms. The man’s likeness to Malon was unmistakable, regardless of the mustache.

“Dad?” Malon called out. She latched onto Link’s wrist and yanked him along. “Dad!” She almost rammed into the Rito woman and jostled her grip on her child. Link gently took hold of Malon’s elbow and she seemed to remember herself.

 “Let’s get you inside.” Her father said to the Rito, and when he stood Link could almost hear the exhaustion creaking in his joints. “The little one can have a soft bed- don’t worry about the charge.” He patted her arm. “Harth and Molli will be fine. Kaneli will figure something out.” The Rito woman nodded but she didn’t seem soothed. Malon’s father waited until she was well past the wide stable doors to whip back around to them.

“Malon- I told you to stay with Delilah!” Malon’s father hissed, trying to keep his voice low, before all anger drained from his words. “You shouldn’t be here.” He sighed and pulled her close, his head barely up to her shoulders

“I missed you… Goddess above, what happened?”

“The damn bird-thing went and attacked again two days ago.” His voice was thick with defeated acceptance.

“Again? You promised you would come back if something bad happened.” He shook off his daughter’s instance and turned towards Link.

“Talon.” Malon’s father said, shoving his hand out between the two of them.

‘Link.’

“Wonderful- Link, I think we should get you inside and grab you a basin, because there is blood in your teeth and it is very unappetizing to look at.” Link’s hand shot to his mouth. He thought he managed to scrub off most of the blood from his face, but apparently not.

He scrubbed at his gums with his fingers while Talon and Malon shared a table with the Rito woman. His fingers came away pink. His face ached, still blotchy and red. Mipha would have done a much better job fixing everything up, but his nose seemed relatively straight, so Link would call his healing job a success.

The woman’s child lay with her head on her mother’s lap and buried her face in the downy of her feathers. He wasn’t sure how Ritos aged- for all he knew they could live to the same outrageous numbers of the Zora- but to him she couldn’t be more than 6. Far too young to be forced to leave her home. He needed to walk up those bridges and find a way to get that stone monstrosity down here. He needed to kill the Blight that probably resided inside, he needed to help that poor woman and her people, he needed—he needed Mipha here. Having met (re-met?) her filled a small piece of the wide loneliness Link hadn’t realized he had. He needed her soft voice, her razor sharp smile- her company. He didn’t want to be alone.

Link rinsed the last of the dried blood and pinkness from his mouth and moved to Malon’s table. The Rito woman eyed his swollen cheek when she thought he wasn’t looking, a question pursed on her beak. Talon passed him a mug of warm, spiced milk. Link took off his gloves and squeezed onto the cup tight, as if that might speed up the process of warming his hands.

“So you’re heading up there to the Village?” Talon asked finally. He wiped the milk from his mustache with his shirt sleeve and smiled. “You know what they say: Rito Village of Lake Totori, where the men are fine archers and the women better singers.”

“Don’t. Just get out of here, before everything gets worse.” The Rito woman said. She swirled the milk in her cup instead of drinking. Link wondered if her blue feathers were always this colorless or if the stress stripped them of their shine. “The only people up there are idiots and want-to-be martyrs.”

I can help.’ Link signed, ‘I can appease Vah Medoh.’

The woman laughed, bitter and joyless. “How exactly are you going to get up there? Even if you do, Vah Medoh will just shoot you out of the sky- if the blast doesn’t kill you then you can enjoy falling all the way down.”

“Eva. There are children here.” Talon said softly.

“We’ve lost most of our warriors. My brother- my brother tried to get up there and now he can’t even fly. Just leave while you still can.”

‘I can’t. I won’t.’ Link’s finger moved steady and curt. Eva kept her eyes on the child in her lap.

“If you’re so determined to go no one will stop you. I’d talk to Elder Kaneli. I’m sure he’ll find something for you to do. Go on and kill yourself.” Eva sighed and ran a hand over her girl’s head. “I should put Celia to bed.” Talon nodded Eva’s way as she left, carefully perching her little girl on her shoulder.

“How could you stay here?” Malon hissed as soon as she was out of earshot, grabbing hard to Talon’s arm. “Dear Hylia, what’s wrong with you?” He patted her hand.

“Stables keeps its doors open, sweetheart.”

Link downed the dregs of his cup as they argued. The shakiness of Eva’s voice flared resolve in his gut, hot and unmovable. He flexed the chill from his fingers. He’d been up in the Beast a hundred years ago. He knew he could get into it now.

---

The looming pillar of Rito Village glowed gold, backlit by the afternoon sun, and a mild breeze toyed with Link’s bangs as he stepped past the wooden posts arching over the entrance bridge.

It was easier to see the full extent of Medoh’s damage this close. The buildings closest to the ground were smoke damaged but not singed; only the roosts dangling high up from the sheer cliff face looked truly burned, ash scars brushing over wooden planks and beams. Still, Rito Village dripped charm, simple and soft. Color bled through the streaks of black, strokes of reds and yellows and greens.

 There was an emptiness though, something unblended about the village, something great now missing. This couldn’t have always been a cluster of bruised buildings, couldn’t have always been this tiny. Link felt a longing for a city he didn’t see, a swollen trade port of wool, ivory, and exotic meats, its influence stretching wide throughout Tabantha. The village before him was too small and simple for that story, but the vision of the bustling movement swarming across these bridges felt right. So right it made this quiet place feel wrong.

He passed a darkly colored Rito guard by the front gates leaning against a gatepost, head lulling in exhaustion as he moved up the steps, and a handful of children ran down the stairs beside him. They all took careful steps to avoid the ashen floorboards, careful not to leave black footprints behind, and it sent an uncomfortable feeling twisting up in Link’s gut.

A Goddess statue settled in a corner, well cared for and adorned with flowers. It was something familiar at least. Link hadn’t seen once since Kakariko, and its presence here was a pleasant surprise. Link ducked down into its alcove and settled beside it; the stone was icy, but warmth pulsed deep under the rock, something that couldn’t be felt with hands but was undeniably there. He didn’t know if that warmth was there for everyone. It likely was- Hylia loved all Her people- but Link liked to think it was reserved to him alone, some sort of cosmic ‘thank you’.

Back on the Plateau, Link had dropped to his knees as soon as he saw the towering Goddess statue, his body remembering a need to pray before his mind did. After hiking up to Keh Numut’s shrine, warm double only just keeping out Mount Hylia’s cold, he had sat with his back against the Goddess statue for what could have been minutes or hours, letting its warmth draw out the chill from his bones. Link had a feeling that he had been a religious man a hundred years ago. He thought he might like to be one this time too.

“You’re not supposed to touch that.”

A Rito child, pink and white, stared down at him with her chest puffed out in artificial grandiose. She seemed nervous under all those feathers, as if she expected him to snip back at her, so Link gave as welcoming of a smile as he could and hoisted himself off the ground, popping his shoulders as he straightened out.  

‘Thank you for letting me know.’ He signed. The little girl flicked her head and stood up straighter.

“You’re welcome! Daddy says I’m in charge now until he gets better, so I gotta make sure nobody’s breaking any rules.” She said.

‘Of course- I’m sure you’re doing a wonderful job.” He crouched down to her eye level. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know where Elder Kaneli is, would you?’ She practically vibrated as she nodded. She grabbed hold of him and pulled him towards the stairs faster than his feet could move. The girl- now Molli- babbled about so on and so forth as they wound around stretches of stairs. Link had a sorry suspicion she was Eva’s Molli, and the strained edge under the girl’s voice pained him. The chatter blended together, Molli almost shouting about her grandfather and birds with treasure in their bellies, and Link took care to try and pay attention to everything she said. Kids deserved patience.

The Elder’s roost seemed surprisingly tame compared to the towering throne of King Dorephan- it matched the muted simplicity of Rito Village well. Elder Kaneli swelled out of his rocking chair, large but not intimidating in the slightest. His feathers were plain and his face was soft in a way that made Link want to tell him every secret, want, and wrongdoing he had ever done.

“Good morning, Molli. Who’s this?” Elder Kaneli asked, voice gentle and not unlike the sound of slow water on stones. Molli stepped forwards and opened her mouth wide to answer—then closed it and shrunk back between her shoulders.

“I…don’t know.”

“A surprise then. How lovely.” Elder Kaneli shifted and the chair groaned under his weight. Noticing the attention quickly leaving her, Molli waddled out of the doorway and disappeared behind the frame. The Elder smiled after her.

“Even under these stressful times the Goddesses have truly blessed us with beautiful children.” The dwarfing shadow of Vah Medoh flashing through the roost’s wide windows cut the joy from his voice halfway through his sentence. Link braced for a deafening caw from above, but the shadow just silently crept across the floor and slinked on. Elder Kaneli sighed and forced the smile back onto his face.

“Welcome to Rito Village, traveler. I am Kaneli, Elder of the Rito. It is a pleasure to…oh- oh.” The Elder leaned forwards, the rocking chair pitching with him. “That object on your hip- is that not a Sheikah slate?”  

Link settled his hand on the device at his hip and nodded.

“That means you must be a Champion like Master Revali! One of the few able to board Divine Beast Vah Medoh.” Elder Kaneli voice grew to a squeak before he sharply silenced himself. “Forgive me. The Champions have all been dead for a hundred years. You must be a decedent of a Champion- an inheritor of the slate.”

Link raised his hands to correct him, somehow explain the situation that was beginning to sound more and more absurd in his head, but Elder Kaneli had already taken off again.

“Champion decedent, please. I hate to ask a favor of a visitor, but you have no doubt spotted our curse. Divine Beast Vah Medoh has circled overhead for weeks, raining down fire. Only a Champion can hope to control such a Beast- and you have a Champion’s blood in you! If you would just bring down Vah Medoh you would have my people’s eternal gratitude. I beg that you enter Vah Medoh and bend her to your will. Please. We are out of options.”

‘Of course, I will,’ Link signed. ‘That’s why I came in the first place- I freed Vah Ruta to the East. I know I can free Vah Medoh too.’

At his words the Elder settled, the jittery energy slipping out from his feathers and melting out into the floor.

“Thank you, truly. I promise, this is not our first attempt- I feared that we had tried everything. Medoh struck down the Rito we sent up to investigate when she first appeared, then the warriors who tried to bring her down. Once she began to attack indiscriminately I forbade anyone from getting close but…” Elder Kaneli sighed and looked past the window towards the descending line of roosts, most empty, most charred. “Others still wanted to keep pushing further. I told them that at this point, attacking without a Champion was pointless, but they wouldn’t listen to reason. Two of our best, Teba and Harth, disobeyed me and flew up regardless.”

Link flinched at the sudden, piercing screech in the air and Elder Kaneli stiffened, gripping his chair rests hard enough for his wings to shake. He stayed hunched like that for almost a minute before loosening his limbs, breathing deep and slow.

“Teba returned-” Elder Kaneli swallowed, forced a cough, and began again. “Teba returned unscathed, but Harth was badly injured. I fear Teba plans to return to face the Beast alone… Champion descendent. We can no longer handle this on our own.”

 Link reached out and took Elder Kaneli’s hand, unsure if he was overstepping but knowing the need for comfort when he saw it. The Elder squeezed Link’s hand softly.

‘I will do everything in my power to soothe Vah Medoh.’ Link signed. ‘I promise.’

The Elder nodded. Link hadn’t noticed the exhaustion hidden under his feathers, the lines and wrinkles around his eyes.

“Then I am forever grateful to you.”

---

Link planned on asking Molli where he could find Teba, figuring he was Link’s best lead right now, but she was gone by the time he left the Elder behind. He almost turned around to ask Elder Kaneli for directions, but the old Rito had already begun to doze as they finished speaking and Link couldn’t stand to wake him. He couldn’t imagine how powerless it must feel to sit up there with half his people fleeing, the rest in the shadow of looming danger with no solution in sight—but not anymore. Link would knock that bird out of the sky before another family deemed it too dangerous in Rito Village to stay.

He took to walking. He was a little embarrassed to stick his head in doorways to ask for a little info, but it seemed most roosts he passed were empty. The roosts sat open and abandoned, some stripped of any belongings, others with hammocks still hanging in the windows and books left on the shelves, anything deemed unnecessary left to the potential aerial fire. With locals so sparse, Link decided maybe laying down some basic needs would be more useful for the moment—find a substantial place to stay and some new clothes, because if Malon said it was only going to be getting colder a too-big doublet and oversized gloves weren’t going to be doing him any more good. Molli had dragged him past shopfronts, he remembered that much, and now it seemed those storefront owners might be the only ones left in town.

He found one roosts to be occupied, mostly through the ball of pink feathers waving desperately at him from the doorframe.

“Champion’s descendent!” Molli shrieked, half out of the doorway and waving furiously with the wing not held tight by another Rito. “Champion’s descendent—did you really come to stop the bird? That’s so cool! My daddy—”

The Rito woman, pink and tall with fine posture—her mother perhaps? —pulled Molli back into the roost, her touch gentle and firm.

“I apologize, sir. She can be easily excitable. Please, don’t mind us.” Molli poked her head between the woman’s legs.

“That’s the Hylian Elder Kaneli was talking to.” She whispered. “He said the Hylian was a Champion’s descendent—”

“You don’t even know what that means.” Another Rito called from behind the two of them; a child around Molli’s age with grey and white markings. He weaseled his way into the doorframe, squashed against a wood panel.

“It means he’s somebody’s kid, duh.” Molli said.

“But—"

“Both of you, back inside, please.” The children slunk back from the doorway, both whispering with growing intensity on the exact nature of the word ‘Champion’.

“They’re more used to seeing people leave than enter right now. We’re all desperate for a little positive change in pace. I’m Saki—forgive her eavesdropping, sweet little devil, but I take it you’re the important someone Molli’s been babbling on about?”

‘I’d be hard-pressed to phrase it that way.’ Link signed. He could see the two kids over her shoulder, completely engrossed in their debate. ‘My name’s Link. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.’ Saki smiled at that.

“Would you like to come in? I’ve almost finished preparing lunch, and the cook down at the Swallow’s Roost left a few days ago, so I guarantee it’ll be much better than anything you’ll find at the inn.” The children looked towards them and Molli grinned wide enough to hurt when Link agreed. The apples and dried meats he’d shared with Malon had been nice, but definitely not filling.

“Have you found a place to stay? I’m sure you’ll have your choice of any room you’d like down at the Swallow’s Roost.”

‘I’m planning to head there soon. Haven’t spent much time looking around yet.’

Saki nodded. The roost was large, a one room home with wide, ceiling tall windows, and three sturdy hammocks.

“This is my son, Tulin,” Saki said as she knelt beside a cooking pot, the haphazardly scattered ingredients suggesting some ‘help’ in the kitchen from small feathers, and poured cream into whatever mushroom soup she had been working on. “and Molli is a family friend. She has been having an… extended sleepover with us for a while.”

Tulin stuck out a wing to Link as Molli settled beside Saki in front of the fire.

“Good day!” His handshake was surprisingly firm for someone so small.

‘Good day to you, too.’ Link said, and Tulin smiled up at him.

“Good response! ‘Great kids are greater greeters—' That's what my dad always says!’

‘Sounds like a smart man.’

“The smartest!”

Saki called for bowls and the two little ones bolted for plate ware. It struck Link as strange to see kids be so quick—practically excited—to follow an adult’s orders, but then again, he thought, any excuse to run around the house would be a good excuse for him if he spent every day stuck on the ground and under hounding eyes. Forget just Molli, practically everybody in town must be easily excitable right now.

There was the simplest of silences as the sunshroom broth went from dark red to pink as Saki stirred in the cream, and as soon as she finished ladling it into bowls the noise was on again. Tulin and Molli jumped over each other in conversation, each wanting to be the dominating voice while Saki calmly mediated, and Link leaned back and enjoyed the happy chatter and warm food.

“Can I go see Kheel?” Tulin says as soon as Molli finished, having gotten through his bowl much faster than her.

“Yeah,” Molli echoed, “can we go see Kheel?”

“Will Mrs. Amali be there?” Saki asked.

“Yes!”

“And if I speak to her tonight she’ll say she was there?”

“Yes!”

“As long are you’re home in an hour— Mrs. Amali doesn’t need even more fledglings in that roost.” Tulin gently bumped his head against hers and Saki smiled. She waved them off and watched them till they were long past the door, both pushing the other behind to take the lead down the stairs, clamoring thanks behind them. The almost silence of before shifted into a heavy, blanketing one and Saki gathered up their plate wear.

“You have to figure out how much slack to give them.” Saki said softly as she glanced back to the doorway. “You want to hold tight with all of this horribleness around, but if you do then you give them a reason to try and poke around.” She sighed and the poised, collected motherly air around her dropped into exhaustion. “Forgive my intrusion, but Molli talked about your meeting with the Elder and… that thing on your hip—it can really let you take down Vah Medoh?”

‘It’s not that simple.’

“But you can help, can’t you? All these warriors think their invincible; Harth’s too injured to take care of Molli, and Teba…”

‘You know Teba? I was hoping to speak with him.’

“He’s my husband, and he’s an idiot. I’ve told him with each new plan that this daydream of somehow knocking that thing out of the sky is ridiculous, and now we have an injured man—injured friend—and he’s still out there thinking he can do this.” Saki’s voice grew tighter with each word, and finally, she stood to work out the tension. “I haven’t seen him in a week. He just camps out in the flight range as if there isn’t a family back here missing him.”

“The flight range is a place where Rito train for aerial combat,” Saki said at Link’s questioning face, stopping his half-raised hands. “right in Dronco’s Pass at the base of Hebra Mountain. It’s a good five or six miles walk from the village, but not far at all as the crow flies—best way to achieve that is from Revali’s landing, but you’re rather missing in the wings department. I don’t think that would be an option for you.”

‘I’m at least decently equipped for flight.’ Link signed, and Saki sighed.

“If you feel confident enough, I won’t stop you…just, if you are going to see my husband, remind him he has a family back here, alright? One that misses him terribly.” Link nodded. Hesitantly, he stood, took hold of her wing and squeezed it softly. She lowered her eyes to their hands for a moment before turning back to the cooking pot.

“I should get to work, I suppose. Nobody else around to do the cleaning. Stay safe, Champion’s descendent. I can’t bear to see another person lost to that Beast’s firepower.”

---

It felt like life was on his side for once after Link changed into the clothes he bought from the Brazen Beak. The prize had been ridiculously high, likely twitched up for a new traveler in town who had to buy them, but the constant warmth of the Rito downy and properly fitting gloves where undoubtedly worth the rupees. He could easily move his fingers. He could easily move his fingers with no extra leather and too-big fingertips in the way. And besides, the headdress was pretty—seeing his reflection in window panes was enough to make him smile.

Which left the next order of business; tracking down Teba and both talking him into helping Link takedown Vah Medoh and shaming his for his familial decisions. Counteracting actions, but Link was sure he’d make it work. He finished off a piece of nutcake, courtesy of a sweet-tempered store owner named Misa who was trying to talk him into buying some of her butter. He did end up buying it—he had no need of it, but there was very few people in town coming through her shop doors right now, and she deserved at least some business today. Besides, he’d been awfully curious to see if the nutcake had actual birdseed in it. It did, which managed to brighten this so far rather exhausting day significantly, and Link was more than a little disappointed when Misa refused to share her recipe.

So, all in all, spirits were high when he finished his winding hike up the spiral of stairs to the highest point in Rito village, even a story taller than the Elder’s roost. Revali’s landing was simple—the sign at the front fence dubbed it as a ‘a memorial for the Rito Champion, Revali’, but the wood platform and basic, white paint job left it looking no different than the rest of the flight landing’s Link had walked past so far. It was likely an unfair comparison, but the intricate beauty of Mipha’s stone memorial made the landing look rather sad. Still, it was a straight shot to the flight range, and that was what was truly important.

A gust of wind knocked the sign against its fence post, and the clacking of the wood on wood and the inpatient howl of the wind were the only sounds up this high. Link imagined, with what little knowledge he had of winds and flight, that with a platform so high and so windy, keeping control of yourself in the air had to be difficult. Link pulled his hair back tighter—the wind was already beginning to wrestle his hair from its tie. He moved further out onto the landing and knelt down to open up his paraglider. The wind kept catching the fabric, trying to rip it from his hands, and one particularly strong gust had him jerking his arms back so fast to keep control that the wood frame knocked him in the face and—

Link can still taste last night’s bitterness on his tongue, faded throughout the morning but still refusing to leave. He would be the first to admit he is far from skilled with a bow—swordsmanship comes easily to him, the balance and shift of weight, and with practice over the years it has grown into a dangerously beautiful art, precise and strong in his hands. Archery, however, has always proved to be a struggle, perhaps neglected over those years over in the training grounds, but that hadn’t proved to be a problem most of the time. Until last night, when a simple attempt to clear his head at the flight range shifted into a night spent struggling with a bowstring with the ‘famed archer of the Rito’ –bullshit—lounging by the fire and taking great pleasure in watching Link fail.

Link refuses to say anything Revali could say or do to him would be anything close to humiliating, but damn if the feeling of  Revali's eyes on Link’s back wasn’t embarrassing. Revali’s elegance was undeniable, but his fat, pompous tongue was anything but.

Link had set off on the miles-long hike at dawn, just as the sun was beginning to wake up. He had been able to spend a few hours attempting to alter his form or find some flaw to fix at the flight range and still return with morning still present. It’s amazing, he thinks to himself, vitriol only barely leaching into the words, how much more productive you can be with a little peace and quiet. He leans back on his hands, feet dangling off the edge of the tallest landing platform. It’s always quieter up here than on the other platforms, which Link doesn’t mind at all, and when the wind dies down, like it has this morning, leaving the air still enough to catch in your hands, you can see Tabantha stretch on. Every roost and store front, the stable in the distance, tall, arching stones, and in the distance, Hebra, glowing silver in the morning sunlight. Link likes heights, likes how small they make you feel, how enormous they make the world around you look instead. Link would love to scale the stone that continues up above the wood walkways and landing platforms, loves the thought of standing on the edge and looking out, and out, and out.

A dark shadow coats the platform, painting over the sun above—Vah Medoh, making her morning rounds. She is just as beautiful as Vah Ruta, but through her own special gracefulness, not anything like Ruta’s towering power. The snow still dusting Link’s hair and eyelashes from the icy breath of the flight range suddenly blows up and away, carried by a gust of wind that whips through the air, shattering the morning's stillness.

The wind disperses out into the air around it, leaving a perfectly postured, thoroughly unwanted Rito standing beside Link, not a feather out of place despite the rat’s nest that wind has made of Link’s hair—Link doesn’t think he saw Revali even flap his wings as he had followed the winds up into the air and gently to the ground. Wonderful. Exactly what Link needs in his pleasant, undisturbed morning.

“Impressive, I know.” Revali says, and while Revali keeps his head jutted straight, Link can tell he’s waiting for some reaction as if Link would suddenly offer a round of applause or some shit. That’s rude, Link chastises himself. Fuck, Revali had no problem being rude yesterday, Link thinks back, and said Rito, refusing to be taken aback by the lack of any acknowledgment, hurries on.

“Very few can achieve true mastery of the sky.” Link picks himself up off the ground before Revali does something ridiculous like lean down to Link’s eye level like he was some child. Not that it will stop Revali from looking down at him; he is a good head taller, and it works wonders for patronizing stares. “Did you know a Rito can only rely on the winds around them? We cannot send ourselves up into the sky. Yet I have made an updraft that allows me to soar. It’s quite the masterpiece of aerial techniques, even among the Rito.”

“With proper utilization of my superior skills I see no reason why we couldn’t easily dispense with Ganon.” Link bites back a groan. He knows immediately what comes after statements like this, and his morning has been too lovely, too productive to put up with it. He is not listening to some petty argument about who deserves what and why. He turns heel and walks away before Revali can even finish his next sentence.

“Are you that self-absorbed that you cannot handle a moment of discourse? Unsurprising.”

‘I’m not taking any bait, Revali. Go eat some fletching and bother someone else.’

“Petty insults from a man who can’t even stand firm without hiding behind a title.” Link turns just enough for the damn fucking bird to see his hands.

‘Do you ever shut up?’

“We could always settle this one on one—oh, I know! How about—”

‘I’d be better off with a training dummy if I wanted to get something out of sparing with you.’ Link signs, and before Revali can splutter out a reply he is gone, storming down the wood stairs, bitterness once again coating his mouth and his morning sagging under its weight.

As soon as Link was able to snap his glider closed, the wind died completely. He can taste anger, pettiness, and clear, clean bitterness as strong as liquor. Mipha said he was fond of the place. Sure, the view was pretty and the village was nice, but he’d be slow to choose it as a second home with someone like that around every corner. With the wind down to nothing Link stood and opened up the paraglider again, making a smooth jump and smoother sailing, down from the bitter chill of Rito Village to the freezing cold of the flight range below it.

---

The flight range is smaller than Link expected-- but then it isn’t, because somehow every snowflake, every paint drop, every splinter is there in his head. Half known memories dripped from the wind, seeped through windows, and without even taking hold of the ladder rungs he knew with no room for doubt that he knew this place. The certainty was overwhelming.

The ever-present wind pushing up from the cavern below the range stung his eyes, and the inside was freezing, any comfort sacrificed for utility—bows hung from the walls, some labeled with their owner’s names, others open for practice from anyone, small enough for children or large enough for the broadest Rito. Longbows and recurve were most common out of all of them, but some self bows stood out, the wood intricately carved and brightly painted. All were safely unstrung—he hadn’t known you were supposed to unstring your bow, much to Revali’s astonishment, whose growing concern for Link’s bow care lead to an extremely tedious lecture that proved to lengthen Link’s bow’s lifespan considerably—and just outside the doorway in the target range, past the jars of bear’s grease and stringers, sat a white Rito pressing wax into his bowstring.

“Yeah?” He called out, keeping his focus on his bow. When no vocal reply came he twisted around and his already dark face tightened.

“I don’t know you, and I’m actually pretty busy here. You should probably go.” He kept a hard stare, waiting for Link to turn on his heels and go back the way he came, and after a moment of stillness and silence, he sighed and turned to face Link fully. “Do you need something? I’m busy here.”

‘You’re Teba, right? I’m Link. I can help you out here.’

“Listen—who, who sent you out here, kid? The Elder, or my wife, or…?”

‘Both.’

“Wonderful. Look, you strike me as an alright guy, but let’s get one thing clear: I’m not going anywhere. As a Rito warrior, I can’t stop while my people are in danger. You wouldn’t get that.”

Link bristled at that and bit back the snide comment twitching in his head that Teba had a village full of lives to look after, not a country’s, not four territories and everyone in between, but the poor guy looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and Link was above arguing with a father frightened for his son’s future.

“There’s only one way I’m going back to the village, and that’s after Vah Medoh had crashed down from the damn sky.

‘It’s like I said. I’m here to help.’

“With the bird? Some random Hylian wants to help bring that thing down. I don’t buy it—”

 'I calmed Vah Ruta to the east. I know what I’m doing—you can’t interact with the Beast’s technology, and I can. I’m here to help, and you need it.’

“You can board the Beast successfully?” Teba stood, not as tall as his wife but still towering a good foot over Link’s head. “Fine. If you really want to do this I've got zero reason to talk you off the edge.” He stood, leaving the wax abandoned on the flood, are slung his bow onto his back. “Can you actually use that bow on your back? —take no offense, kid, but you’re awfully scrawny, and I can’t have a weak marksman up in the air with me.”

‘I’m a good enough shot.’ Link signed, but Teba didn’t hide his disbelief. Fine.

Before giving him time to let out another word Link drew his soldier’s bow, stepped back, and dropped off the edge of the breezeway. Teba said he’d be shooting in the air, right? Teba yelled out after him and Link let out a breath, refusing the air ripping at his skin and pulling at his insides distract him and zeroed in on the closest target—breath in, breathe out; let the fletching brush by— “You’re thinking about it too much and it’s messing up your grip; just focus on your breathing and the target.” Revali is saying, and his face is far too close to Link’s cheek to be ignorable, but the words are solid. “The world is real but not a distraction. In and out, feel the fletching, reload”— Link hit a fifth target before the ground became too close for comfort, and with a snap of the paraglider he was up and back on the breezeway, heart-pounding and head slowly focusing out on the world again instead of honing in.

“That?” Teba said. “That was very stupid.”

‘I told you I was a good shot.’ Teba frowned and didn’t bother with a reply, just turned back into the flight range’s main building.

“The plan,” He explained, “is technically simple.”. Returning to the village also should have been technically simple, with a perfectly good path stretching back to the mouth of the bridges, but Teba seemed increasingly worried about wasting daylight, even if it was barely twenty past noon.

“It’s been getting darker sooner, and I’m not going up there if I don’t have perfect visibility,” Teba said as he helped hoist Link onto his back, and with his hands buried in Teba’s feather’s Link was beginning to wonder if he was making a habit of climbing onto half-stranger’s backs.

 “Medoh is surrounded by a force field that prevents entry and laser cannons that keep it raised. They’ve got enormous firepower to stop anyone from getting too close. Take out the cannons, open the field, board…” Teba sighed. His voice was almost lost in the wind. Did Rito have stronger ears to be able to hear with so much movement around them? “But I can’t find anything that successfully breaks through a cannon. No shock arrows, fire arrows, bomb arrows, nothing. If I can’t find a way to blow those damn things up there’s no point even going up.

“So, my idea is, Champion Revali made this thing, right?”

Technically he only piloted it, Link wanted to correct, but his hands were holding tight and Teba likely didn’t care Vah Medoh and the rest of the Divine Beasts were centuries older than he could ever imagine. Teba left the statement hanging as he lurched them higher up to touch down on one of the tallest of RIto Village’s landings, passing up two closer platforms.

“More private,” Teba said, answering a question Link hadn’t asked. “So, Revali made Vah Medoh, so he would have known everything about it—including its weaknesses.” He was already walking, dumping Link off his back and onto the floor. Link didn’t know him enough to see if Teba’s stiff, constant movement was a sign of anxiety or simply his nature, but Link had to pick up pace to match his gait. Teba took turns Link hadn’t noticed before, shifted along the thin walkways between roosts, pulling him along to an area of the village Link hadn’t realized he’d passed by. The wood here had patched and replaced in places, leaving walkways that resembled quilts more than streets, old discolored wood beside fresh pine, red wood, unvarnished planks still rough with dried drops of sap. The roosts were unevenly spaced—a sign some were gone, two or three missing homes in a row leaving a gaping view of the sheer drop into Lake Totori that the rest of the village’s buildings usually censored. Teba moved towards one of the better off roosts, it’s paint freshly repainted and it’s door covered with wide, clear glass, and took hold of the latch holding it closed.

“Elder Benko—the Rito in charge at the time of the Calamity—wanted a way to enshrine what the Rito had been before it hit, remember everything destroyed, so on, so on, very sentimental. Supposedly the Elder and Champion Revali were very close, so when Revali’s roost survived the rest of the village’s destruction they locked it up. All the kids walk by and see it—I find the idea rather pointless, if I’m being honest, but I’ve taken my son up here a few times… Anyways, all of Revali’s old belongings are in there, so some sort of information on Medoh must be as well.”

‘So we’re breaking into a museum.’

“If you don’t want to help you can leave.”

‘Not judging! Just… surprised.’ Teba scoffed and pushed the door open, the latch no-so-subtlety snapped off in his hand. If Teba wanted the lock picked he just could have asked—Link’s hands weren’t completely useless.

The roost was surprisingly small—smaller than Saki’s and the other roosts Link had stuck his head into, and cluttered to all hell. The hearth was covered in dishes, still full of ashes, hammock overflowing with quilts, a half-opened jar of bear’s grease dried up in a corner. The desk, its wooden back curved to fit comfortably against the wall, spilled over with papers, stacks of books pushed into both designated shelves or left piled on corners, some drawers so filled they couldn’t quite close.

‘You’d think they’d clean it up a bit.’ Link signed and Teba shrugged as he pulled the desk’s chair back to start sorting through the paperwork littering the desk. The books had been dusted recently, most covers free of time’s grimy texture, but the bindings were dangerously loose, thread ate away by the insects that still managed to sneak inside, and the covers were all near grey or yellow, any color stripped by the sunlight pouring through the wide windows. The pages didn’t seem any better off, but the ink, hidden away from light, was still bright enough to read. Books of complex areal theory, weather magic with dogears on pages on wind currents, advanced archery journals with notes scrawled in the margins critiquing ideas or building upon them—a romance novel with curled pages from use. Pushed deep back in one of the shelves was a thin, blue book held shut with a leather tie. No title, no author, and when he opened it the writing was different than the professional lettering in most books, tight and uneven across the lines.

"I won another archery competition today. As one would expect, the village can't stop talking about my winning streak—”

Link snapped the dairy closed. That was none of his business. Did Revali talk about him in there? Link almost opened it again—just a peek, just a quick look—but placed it down on the desked, tied it closed, and took a step back. None of his business. The sun spilled down on the desk at this angle, and Link carefully pushed the diary to the far back of the shelf where the sun had no chance of stripping it of its color.

He knelt down to the desk drawers. Teba had slid one out of the desk entirely to have a better look of its contents, papers scattered around him. When Link pulled open the lowest drawer it shifted awkwardly, like it was too heavy for the drawer slides on its sides. Link pulled harder and the drawer popped out entirely. It was empty, save for a broken bow stringer and blank papers—and a crack close to the wall of the drawer that split under the bottom wood, leaving a hole big enough for a finger to fit through. The false bottom popped off with a sharp tug. Stacks of letters, all neatly tied up in different color twine, strange arrowheads of all shapes and sizes, some barely even recognizable as arrowheads if not for the labels attached, and one fully developed arrow that felt perfectly balanced in Link’s hand.

“Model transfers well,” one letter read, “but the arrowhead is far too heavy to be actually used. Unpractical. You can do better—Revali”

“Have you ever shot a bow? You can’t successfully fire air. Far too light—Robbie, I swear you aren’t even listening to me—Revali”

“Opening mechanism? Wonderful idea. Helped the weight problem, finally. I had a few ideas on attachable arrowheads; would that be faster to produce than already assembled ancient arrows? I sketched some ideas below—Revali”

“Took the arrows out monster hunting. This is practically a weapon of mass destruction. Truly impressive, Robbie. I’m doing some final fine-tuning; could you send more? Twenty would be fine enough. Just to be sure other archers are as compatible with them as I am. Thanks in advance—Revali”

 The letters weren’t dated, and it bothered Link more than it should have. The damn light in this room was overwhelming, and it was beginning to give him a headache. Could Vah Medoh please find the time to fly over here and blot out the sun for a while? Link tied the stack back together, and the old paper seemed to shine in the light. Link turned to look at the room. The Rito really hadn’t touched a thing, had they? Dusted a little, filled up the rotting wood in the floor, but left the dirty dishes still waiting by the extinguished fire to be cleaned. The letters in his hands seemed to burn.

 He leans heavily against the Princess’ shoulder, and her voice sends nails past Link’s eyes into his head, red, hot, and throbbing.

“Revali? Oh, Revali, thank goodness!” She says, her shoulder knocking the side of his head as she waves him down. Link groans- as if the whole thing couldn’t get any worse. She hauls him inside the open doorway of Revali’s roost, past its rather disgruntled looking owner.

“I’m sorry- it’s just that, we were hiking near Warbler’s Nest, and Link started vomiting, and now he says his head is pounding, and he can hardly walk straight-”

“Your Majesty, please,” Revali says, as she flops Link down onto his hammock- behavior Revali likely wouldn’t tolerate from anyone but her. The two had taken an early, easy liking to each other, and it never ceased to amaze. “Slow down.”

She begins again, taking careful beats this time, and Link has never wanted to disappear so badly. Almost throwing up on the Princess had been bad enough, being dragged into town like a child even worse, and now this- Goddesses save him. It doesn’t help that he has never wanted curtains so desperately. The wide, airy windows of Revali’s one-room home are, unfortunately, wonderful at letting in light, and the early afternoon sun burns into Link’s skull. He pulls a pillow over his head and tries to block out their voices.

“When did you last eat?” Revali calls over to Link.

“Yesterday at lunch.” Zelda answers for him. She looks a little like a pack mule covered in all his gear, bless her. Revali takes Link’s waterskin from her- still full. He lets out a sound that sounds suspiciously like a covered laugh.

“He’s fine. Probably just a bad bout of altitude sickness.” He says. Zelda blinks.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. We see it in all the time in Hylians- he isn’t used to the thin air, that’s all.” Revali says. “He just needs some time to acclimate. With a little rest and water he should be fine. As long as he’s got someone to keep an eye on him he’ll just back in hours. Maybe a day.”

“You would do that?” Zelda asks, and Revali realizes just a moment too late the Princess’ misunderstanding. He can’t turn her down; he cares too much for her opinion of him for that.

“Of course, Princess. Anything for you.” He chokes out.

“And you really think that’s all it is-”

“Yes, your Majesty. Now, shoo fly,” Revali says, not unkindly. Zelda bites her lip and looks between the two of them, body stiff and face white. Link and Revali both know the Princess’ fear of illness well enough- disease had taken her mother from her, and ever since the slightest sniffle was enough to send Zelda into a panic. One winter, when Urbosa visited the castle to discuss a trade agreement, she caught something nasty in her lungs from the wet, cold air. Zelda spent days at her side, terrified and near delirious. Only Mipha’s gentle words could pry her away from Urbosa’s room and begin to ease the fear from her brow.

 Revali steers Zelda towards the door, ever the gentleman, and with a reluctant glance she steps out. “I’ll take good care of him.”

She’s but a few yards away when Revali’s generous air drops. He turns and faces the bed, back ramrod straight, and Link wonders if Revali cultivated his ability of standing like a cocky ass or it just came to him naturally.

“I cannot believe you went and gave yourself altitude sickness.” Revali says. Link wishes with all his heart that for once in his life, Revali would just shut up.

“Not eating up here? Not drinking? Are you brainless? And you call yourself an hero, really.” Link rolls over just enough to flip him off.

"Sit up.”

When Link doesn’t comply fast enough Revali yanks the pillow from his head, tossing it at the foot of the hammock, and thrusts Link’s waterskin at him.

"The more you drink the faster you’ll feel better. You can sleep off the migraine afterwards.” Link begrudgingly takes the waterskin. For a few blissful moments, Revali is silent. He walks off to some corner of the room, and the only noise is the soft sound of clinking ceramic. Link begrudgingly nurses his waterskin and stares at the red pattern on Revali’s yellow blanket, eyes glazed with pain. Revali isn’t really wrong- waltzing around hungry and dehydrated a good 10,000 feet above sea level was rather stupid- but he loathes to admit it. He should be able to suffer his nausea with pride, damn it.

"Drink this.” Revali says right beside him, and the sudden, painful volume of his voice makes Link jump. Revali holds out a cup of tea, thin but not colorless, the leaves floating unstrained on top.

“Go on,” His voice is strangely soft. “I’m not going to poison you.” The tea smells odd, a clash of scents that don’t belong together.

“Mint, ginger, and pine needles.” Revali says as he kneels at the basket beside his bedside table. He begins pulling out quilts and tossing them at the hammock. “It will taste strange, but help with the nausea.”

Link takes a sip—Revali’s right. It’s bitter and sour with an overwhelming taste of peppermint. Weird, but not horrible. Drinkable.

“Finish that, and then you can go to sleep.” Revali says, and Link thinks for a moment that Revali’s voice actually sounds nice when it isn’t dripping with negativity. Almost pleasant.

Revali gives Link a once over glance, then, satisfied with his handiwork, turns for the door. He’s barely outside the doorway when he turns over his shoulder.

“If you vomit in my bed, I guarantee you I will make sure you spend the rest of your stay sleeping on the inn’s floor.” He calls, before walking out into the winding staircase of Rito Village.

 The pleasantness is gone.

“Kid? Hey, kid?” Link jumped as Teba’s voice and glanced down at the letters in his hands, now crumbled in his tight grip. He quickly let go and tried to smooth them out best he could.

“You okay, kid?”

‘Yeah, just got a little distracted.’ Teba looked him up and down, still not quite convinced, but dropped the topic anyways.

“Found anything good in those?” Teba asked as he held a hand out for the letters. The thought of handing them over left a tight, panicked knot in Link’s throat. He pulled them into his lap.

‘Revali was writing to some weapon maker about a kind of arrowhead. He called it a weapon of mass destruction.’

“Mass destruction. Good start.” Teba turned to the desk. “Think he hid other things in here?”

Link shrugged, and while Teba began poking and prodding every inch of wood, Link stood and moved quietly to the pile of blankets on the hammock. There, at the very bottom, was an obnoxiously yellow blanket with bright red designs, some resembling foxes and elk, others mushrooms and berry bushes. It smelled like dust and time, a horrible, horrible smell, and it hurt to put it down. Link didn’t want to be in this roost anymore. Link wanted to get as far away as possible until his skin stopped prickling and his head stopped hurting and scraps of paper stopped feeling as heavy as the moon in his hands.

“We’ve got something!” Teba yelled, before remembering they were breaking the law and whispering, “I found something!”

The something was a false panel on the side of the desk, and inside the cavity behind it was a bundle of arrows with the strangest arrowhead Link had ever seen. It was circular, like a knuckle sized hinge, with a long piece of not-metal and not-stone folded over. Link recognized the Sheikah technology immediately. He reached past Teba and grabbed one—right where the arrow would be knocked, a line of not-fabric string attached to a leaver. Link pulled; the hinge snapped open and a humming blue arrowhead took its place.

“Looks like a potential weapon of mass destruction to me.” Teba said. Link nodded. That most certainly did.

---

‘I really think I’m starting to make a habit of climbing onto people’s back.’ Link signed as Teba checked the leather buckle of his quiver. Riding shoulders seemed to be the only way to get him up to Vah Medoh unless they found some wonderful flying machine to get them up to the ancient flying machine, and Teba seemed much less comfortable with a long-term ride than Sidon had.

“Is that a problem?” Teba said, voice flat.

‘…It was a joke.’

“Not a very good one.” Teba straightened. Vah Medoh drifted right above them, painting the landing platform with shadow. “Why do this? Why risk your life to bring down Vah Medoh when it’s not your problem?”

For a moment Link considered the long answer, considered telling Teba just how big of a picture Teba was involving himself in by flying up to that Divine Beast a second time. Would it help to know he was flying up there to save the world alongside his village of roosts, or would it weight him down, add more weight on the back of his wings as he carried Link up into the clouds?

‘For Rito Village.’ Link said finally, and Teba rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like you’ll get any key to the village for this, you know.” He said.

‘No—but the kids here deserve to live safely at home. I’m content knowing that’s that.’

“Fine. Just no changing your mind when you get up there and see Medoh up close.” Link nodded, and at Teba’s okay, hoisted himself onto his back.

The assent is quiet, mostly because the higher they climbed the harsher the winds became, stealing any words from the air. Each meter higher exposed Vah Medoh’s strange beauty a little more, the stone wings of the Beast stretching 200 feet, each curve carefully carved and beautiful. The sight of it all didn’t last long; as soon as Link and Teba grew close enough to see the pink glow pulsing from the Beast she screeched, the scream so loud Teba flinched, dropping them down a few feet, and a thick cloud of light swallowed Vah Medo up.

“The force field.” Teba needlessly explained. “You still with me, kid?” Link squeezed his shoulder. “Fine. I’m going to drop you. Please don’t go falling to your death when my back is turned.”

And then the wind was screaming in Link’s ears and stabbing at his face, pulling the skin and ripping the hair from his head, so cold it burned. When the paraglider opened it caught the wind like an old friend and jerked on his arms so hard Link felt his shoulder pop. He could see two of the cannons, the other two hidden on the far wing, and steered towards the first as best he could against the winds. Teba gestured to himself and waved off towards the other wing, and Link risked letting go of one of the glider’s handles just long enough for a quick salute. That left these two for him. Shoot something and don’t get shot. Easy enough.

Except the wind was a bastard. It whipped away the first arrow Link shot, taking hold and flinging it away with obnoxious ease. Link maneuvered closer, in range of the cannon but hopefully close enough to fight against the wind. He altered his shot, aiming above and rightward in hopes the wind snatches it down into the right place—it did, sailing the arrow into the right side of the cannon, just meters away from the center, and the arrow exploded in a wave of blue, hissing as it shattered the stone side and sent rubble flying. Link heard a whoop carried in the wind from the far side of the Beast. So Teba had found the arrows just as effective.

Link held his position, arms already aching from fighting the wind. Still, he slowly let go with one hand, slid his elbow up around the handle, and let himself drop. The paraglider was a distraction he refused to acknowledge as he fired, this time striking the cannon’s head and sending it flying in chunks against a bright blue backdrop. He slid the paraglider back up into his hand and let it catch the wind. Settled back on, he turned for the second, larger canon.

It took the first arrow with great force, sending a wicked crack down the whole body of the cannon, but the second was caught by the wind again, then the third. Link didn’t have the time or the arrows to be estimating what would fall where. He forced himself closer, closer, until the wind would have no control over his shot. The cannon seemed to notice the same as it charged up, blinking red claiming its target as Link dropped and readied his bow. The arrow nocked perfectly, string catching beautifully one his fingers—three things happened at once. A flash of blue met in time with a flash of red and white, while an wing wrapped around him and shoved him out of the way of the high-pitched squeal of a shot fired.

The light faded into the clouds and Link looked up at Teba, paraglider still dangling on his arm, bow still in his hand, with Teba’s wing wrapped awkwardly around him while he treaded air, wing moving furiously to hold the extra weight. The cannon was gone, nothing left but a concave on Vah Medoh’s now visible wing, but the sweet, meaty smell of burned skin still hung in the air.

“What the hell was that.” Teba hissed, and Link grappled with the paraglider to get himself out of the Rito’s grip. “That was the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever seen. Just sitting there with a target on your chest? Did you intend to come up here and get shot out of the damn sky?”

Link said nothing. He couldn’t, not with two hands clutching onto wood handles above his head.

“I’ve half a mind to drag you back down and make sure you never get on that thing if you’re so keen to let this damn bird rip you apart.” Teba sighed, looking out at Vah Medoh’s outstretched wings. “But we need to bring it down. If you say you can do it, I’ll believe you.” His wings stuttered as his balance shifted too far to one side—an attempt to keep the wind from piercing into the black and red burn across most of his leg, feathers charred into nothing.

“It looks like I got hit pretty bad back there.” He said. Link’s heart plummeted to his intestines. Shit, shit, he could smell it, could see the quills of feathers where the vane had burned away; burns that he had put there.

“It’s okay,” Teba said, voice softer than Link had ever heard it. “I just need to get back to the flight range. You head down to Medoh—good luck, kid. It’s all you from here.” He shifted his wings and began to turn back. Keeping his eyes on Teba’s white feathers and charred leg, Link started his drift down onto Vah Medoh’s becoming wings.

“Hey, Link!” Teba called out. He flashed Link what might have been his first smile, and a thumb’s up. “I believe in you.”

If he said anything else it was lost to the wind as Link felt stone beneath his feet.

Chapter Text

Vah Medoh was, unsurprisingly, cold, windy, and high. There was a stark difference between looking down at the ground from below a glider cloth or over a feathery shoulder, and standing on the edge of unforgiving stone, leaning over, and seeing the whole damn world.

Link turned his eyes from the clouds below to Vah Medo’s stretching wings—greenery had taken to the stone, Hebra lichen that could stand the cold leaving a spongy green and red carpet over the stone. Pillars stood man length’s apart, and if they held up anything before, Link couldn’t remember. Pulsing in the center was the main control unit, the control panel completely swallowed by red and black malice. Just looking at the panel’s jutting silhouette was enough to make Link’s head ache. The goal of the day—no fractured skulls.

'Can we just get this over with?’ He signed to the control unit. Nothing moved. ‘We both know you’re waiting in there, so can we make this easier and you just try to kill me right now?’ No malice dripped down and slid across the floor into murderous blobs, no shrieking abomination appeared, and Link sighed and dropped his hands. At least he tried.

He found an open hatch at the base of where the Beast’s carved back began to take form, steady clean airflow floating up from it. It dropped two floors, and the highest story’s floor was a cracked mess. Rails ran wall to wall, holding up some pieces of the floor, but the rest was rubble on the story below. The windows lacing across the bottom’s floor cracked under the broken stones’ weight, filling the air with a soft wail as air pushed between shattered glass. Link gagged as soon as he stumbled out of the air stream into the stale air of the room. The smell of rot, hot, greasy, and corrosive, coated everything. Red soot hung in the air and eyes peered down from the ceiling, stalactites of malice dripping decay onto what was left of the floor.

A few arrows took care of the eyes—could they really see him? Comprehend him? Could they report back to their pig master like a foul-smelling spy?—and the malice melted into the air, joining the soot. Link took a careful step onto one of the sturdier-looking pieces of floor, partially suspended by the railings. It didn’t move. No creaking, no groaning. Still visible through the hazy air was the outline of a guidance stone; Link made his way across as delicately as he could.

He was forced to jump across railed stone three times, each one heart-stopping as he waited to be sure the floor was still steady after his landing. The guidance stone chirped softly while it dripped information down—a pair of windows let in blessed light behind it, flooding the room with new, needed air as Link pulled out some shards of cracked glass from the stone frame. He didn’t really mind the bitter cold against his face as he tried to lean out one without skewering himself. Vah Medoh’s beak began to stretch out just above, and Link figured if he could lean forward enough he might be able to stretch up and touch it. He shifted forwards, one piece of glass pushing too hard against his stomach for comfort, but the air felt good after breathing in all that evil shit, and he had room to lean a little farther, reach up a little higher.

“Watch yourself—if you fall, I won’t catch you.” comes from behind him, sharp and nasally. Revali throws it over his shoulder as he moves alongside the Princess. Link leans back from the edge of Vah Medoh’s wing and holds back the impulse to flash up an unpleasant gesture-- he Princess is right there and he doesn’t need to give her another reason to turn her nose up at him. She and Revali had taken a smooth liking to each other almost as soon as they met, and Link isn’t jealous, couldn’t be, just found it prickly that she would rather spend her time with a self-centered bag of feathers than him. He just wanted to be able to take up his place behind her Majesty without disapproving and distaining looks being snuck over shoulders, but perhaps that was too much to ask—

--only that’s not the only thought the words carry. There’s a hesitant joke, after it’s been decided that teamwork is more important than grudges if saving the world is going to become anything, passed over an eggshell friendship, and awkward laughter to go with it, because neither knows how far they can safely push.

Vah Medoh’s stone is smooth but not groove-less, and with a little work Link can climb it, out past the rest of the Beast’s body to the tip of the beak, wind whipping his hair so hard it burns when it hits his skin and his eyes watering so hard he can barely see, even though that was his goal—because leaning over, feet only inches from air, Link is so tall he is nothing, swallowed up by the clouds with Hyrule stretching, truly stretching below. Revali is screaming at him, “I swear—get back here, I swear—if you fall I will not catch you!” and when Link finally does touch down on Medoh’s wings, Revali’s flared feathers are the funniest thing he’s ever seen. It doesn’t occur to him till later, once he’s done choking on laughter, adrenaline, and stupidity, that Revali might have been truly worried.

He apologizes the next night. It’s awkward, and Revali insists it’s unnecessary, that he’s above it, never really cared, but feels good. When Link mentions dinner Revali scoffs at his choices.

"Tourist food.” He insists. “I know where to get the best nutcake in town, and it’s not going to be anywhere near that inn, I can promise you that.”

And then, later, many days of shared meals under the Flight Range's canopy below his belt, Revali is elbowing him softly. “Wake up. You’re going to fall, and I won’t catch you.” Link shifts, pressing his face further against Revali’s shoulder. Revali is practically holding him up as they sit on the barest edge of Medoh’s tail, feet dangling from the edge, the sky split around them, the lights of Rito Village like stars below them, the stars of the sky like city lights up above.

It’s cold—cold usually means nothing on Medoh, not when it leeches into the very existence up here, but right now the cold around him is unbearable with Revali so warm next to him. His feathers tickle Link’s face as he elbows him again.

“I’m bringing Vah Medoh down for the night. You should get inside, it’s freezing out here.” Link groans and Revali stands, stretching for a moment, before holding out a wing. Link’s grip is steady when he takes it.

Link’s weight on the window’s glass proved to be too much as it slices through his tunic and into his stomach, only a hairline cut but enough to stink bitterly. Link jerked back into the room. When he ran his glove under his tunic it came away bloody; just barely, but enough to make him feel like a true idiot leaning out over broken glass. He glanced out the window again and the swirling drop gave him pause.

‘I won’t catch you.’

The shift in tone, the change in thought, the different reasoning behind casual touches and calculated words—it settled in the base of his brain, unsure and unsteady. Fine. Okay. He stepped back against the guidance stone—that was right. He came over here for a reason. He flipped the new map around, trying to get as much as he could from what felt like a needlessly complicated map. He tapped the screen with two fingers and, sure enough, just as Vah Ruta had let out a rumbling call and shifted her stone mechanics to meet him, Vah Medo shrieked as she tilted, the floor groaning under the shifting pressure. As the stone shifted and slid, a doorway swallowed up in pulsing malice came into view. One of the small glowing points on his map blinked somewhere behind it—a good place as any to start.

---

Vah Medo’s insides are significantly easier to navigate than Vah Ruta’s, even with needing to maneuver through air vents and walking dangerously close to thousand-foot drops. The obstacles to the terminals were simple, clear, and concise, sometimes only stretches of air that were easily bypassed by a little strategic gliding.

The Sheikah slate chirped as it passed over a terminal face, the railed gondola lift behind Link scrapping softly against the floor as it rocked; its white and blue paint had chipped over time and what was left grown over with orange lichen. As soon as the slate’s happy sound faded, the gate cutting off access to the rest of the underside of Medoh’s wing slid open, exposing walls so thick with malice some spots seemed to be painted with it. There was far more malice on Medo than he had ever seen in Ruta; perhaps the moving water had prevented it from taking a stronger hold. Regardless, it was easy enough to clear it, to shatter the cursed skulls that sometimes force themselves out of the gunk, the bones brittle enough to crumble carelessly under his sword. A detached jaw strained for Link’s ankle, and it shattered harmlessly as he kicked it away.

The room stretched for ages, mostly to make way for the mallet-like stone gated to the ceiling and angled towards the cracking stone wall—obvious enough. The grates were rusty, staining his hands as he forced them up, leaving red streaked across his tunic and cheek. He could only lift it halfway over the stone and sighed as he stepped back and let it slam down onto the ground with a hollow thud. Too short. He was too damn short for everything; shorter than Revali, shorter than half the Hylians he met, shorter than Mipha and she was ridiculously tiny for her age. Link took a step back, looked at the mechanism from as far back as he could walk, and groaned at his own stupidity. Magnesis. He’d had that stupid slate for how long now and he still couldn’t remember to use its basic functions?

The grates squealed as they rose, rust grinding as it slid upwards into the ceiling, and it hooked into place. Vah Medo reared back with a quick double tap and the hanging stone slowly slid down against the wall and smashed the cracked stone wall. Cracked walls, crumbling stone, rust and lichen; Medo wore the past hundred years boldly across her stone and Link wasn’t sure if Vah Ruta’s preserved curves and carvings were a fluke and the rest of the Beasts would be in a similar state of bad repair or if Medo was simply crumbling on her own. The stone wall broke onto the floor, exposing the fifth terminal inside. The dull, carved black stone of the terminal was cracked, malic pouring from the chips and dripping onto the floor. Link’s sword went through the eye hiding in the corner with little resistance, and the slate chirped regardless of the damage when Link passed it over the terminal. The stone flickered to blue the best it could, the color pixilated and unsure. It blurred unnaturally around the cracks.

The Sheikah slate buzzed, likely alerting him of the main control unit, but Link paid it no mind. He brushed his hand over a chipped section—it was painfully cold, and sharp as metal sheets. Moisture came away on his fingers, tacky and blue. It evaporated quickly, leaving his fingertips tingly and numb. Link stepped away and turned back for the entrance of the wing. Regardless of Sheikah stone liquids, his sword hand itched, already twitching at the thought of whatever was hiding up there. His heart struggled to decide if it should slow into a cool determination or flutter.

The far side of the flat chest of Vah Medo, away from her main unit and columns, was quiet in a different way than the rest of the Beast. The wind was subdued here by the looming stone, free of shadows and marked with railings—an observation deck. Its view was no different than every edge of the Beast, but it was marked with subtle importance that Link could appreciate. He leaned against the railing, taking some weight off his aching feet. The sun wasn’t setting yet, but it was nearing the horizon, inching slowly towards night time, and Link really needed to keep going if he wanted to fight whatever Blight was up here before nightfall. He didn’t move. The Hebra mountains looked so pretty with the soon to be fading sunlight drifting over their peaks. With a sight like that the wind didn't seem so cold.

The sunset over the sharp, snowy edges of Hebra’s mountain range is pink, a gentle blush fading into purple and blue-black ink. Medoh flies lower than usual. The winds are gentler, the cold still biting but not vicious. The downy of Revali’s feathers are soft against Link’s arm—he can feel the heat of Revali’s wing against his side even through the thick, insulated fabric of his coat, and the pressure of Revali against him brings a contented calm Link rarely feels these days.

“You know,” Revali says, head tilted up towards the sinking sun, “we could die doing this.”

‘That’s awfully morbid.’ Link signs. He doesn’t want to talk of death and dying—the twilight air is too sweet for that, and for one moment Link would like to leave behind all the overhanging gloom that seems to chase them everywhere these days.

“But we could. Facing Ganon. And I don’t think I would mind.”

Link looks at him, alarmed, and Revali shakes his head, chooses new words.

“I don’t want to die. I just, I think this is worth dying for. Don’t you?”

‘Of course.’ Link signs, but Reval doesn’t seem to be paying attention.

“I love my people.” He says. “I would die for them. I love this kingdom, I love my friends, and—I…” Revali finally looks away from the peaks, and the dying sun leaves his feathers glowing. “Never mind. I should go. Make sure Medoh is keeping a consistent altitude.” 

Link reaches out for feathers, reaches out to somehow hold Revali still enough to do something he’s not quite sure of yet, but all he’s gets is a handful of air and the stinging cold as Revali leaves him with the sun.

The memory left as softly and subtly as it came, but it was begging to be noticed. Link leaned his elbows on the railing, ran his hands down his face, and rested his chin in his palms. None of this makes any damn sense. He’d really appreciate if his brain would draw out a pretty timeline, nice and concise, so he could tell what exactly he was supposed to be feeling-- if he should be angry when he thinks of feathers on his arms telling him about eye dominance as he tries to hit a target or be filled with bittersweet nostalgia. People had told him with Mipha—friend, fellow fighter, potential lover, everything he needed laid out before him. His head was scattered and contradictory here, pulling at two different thoughts, and Link isn’t sure what he is going to say when he pulls a hopefully still living bird out of all that malice.

He looked out at the shifting colors of the sun. They gave him no answers. Finally, he stood up straight and turned his back to it. He didn’t want to fight that damn thing in the dark. He set his jaw and moved towards the winds, and somehow the air seemed stripped of its sound, silent in its movement. Vah Medo holding her breath. The orange glowing through the rolling red-purple mass was a steadying reminder. This Divine Beast was alive under Ganon’s influence, she was just waiting for him to remind her of it.

The malice hissed at him as he ran the Sheikah slate over the control panel. It hissed as it slithered off the glowing unit, hissed as it rose up against the wind and took form, swirling black-red-purple, the smell of rot and decay thrown through the air as Windblight took form; a clawed hand, a face hidden behind a curved stone mask—a blaster half the length of Link’s body and thick as a tree trunk. The Blight hunched over, squinting at the tiny creature below it, and screamed.

The first hit took Link by surprise because it was not a hit, just a gust of wind that looked harmless until it yanked him in and sucked the very breath from his lungs. Link scrambled back on unsteady legs, gasping. Okay. Not so harmless. The Blight brought up its arm, letting out pulses of light that Link didn’t doubt would fry him through and through if it hit him, but they were easy enough to sidestep.

‘Don’t get cocky,’ Link reminded himself as he drew his sword, ‘just because he seems easy now doesn’t mean you can’t end up with a fractured skull again.’ The main problem was the damn thing wouldn’t stay near the ground. It was content to hover twenty feet above him, taking lazy pot shots as if Link was simply a mild inconvenience. Link sheathed his sword and drew his bow. The ancient arrow sang as it slammed into Windblight’s eye, the flash of blue bright enough to leave spots on the edge of Link’s vision, and Blight squealed, clawing at the charred arrow shaft with its flesh hand, digging its own sharp claws into its eye; the arrow had blown chunks from its stone face, exposing malice flesh and dark blood. The arrow shaft snapped, half still embedded in the eye, and the Blight abandoned its attempt to claw it free to instead drag forth strange small things akin to small birds. Link had no name for them, never seen the stone spheres before, but they darted around him, never coming close until the Blight aimed its blaster.

The stones squealed, mechanical and grating, before splitting the laser between the five of them and firing.

Link ducked away from them as best he could, but the five easily moved into clear air to re-aim, and one hidden behind the control unit let out a successful shot, striking him across the back, ripping along the skin; the force of it threw Link back. Link wanted to scream at the floating Blight to get out of the damn air and fight him like an honest opponent, but instead, it lets loose another flurry of attacks, this one slamming into his right side, maybe bruising some ribs with the force, definitely burning skin—he could smell it. Link stepped back, putting as much distance between him and the little things as he could, until he almost tripped over a lip in the stone and felt a rush of cold air shoot up his coat and across his back; an air vent, hidden under all the lichen. He flicked open his glider, and as soon as Windblight raised its blaster again he was up. Slowing his thoughts to grip the bowstring felt as easy and breathing; the arrow slammed into the mask and sent a chunk flying. The force threw the Blight to the ground, and in an instant Link was on it, dragging a quickly drawn sword up through its chest, letting out a spray of purple blood. The Blight grabbed hold of his tunic and flung him back. Link rolled, slamming his back into the corner of a column.

For a moment he couldn’t breathe, the air in his lungs ripped out from the force, from the too fast bend of his spine as his back curved against the corner, from the grate of burns against stone. He hissed, forcing himself to stand as the small drones bolted over to their re-grounded target. Blood dripped in a steady stream from Windblight as it dragged itself back into the air. The drones buzzed as they loaded up and Link batted one away with his shield as he ran for the air vent again.

He breathed. The fletching brushed by his face, feathers kissing his cheek, and the Blight dropped again. He didn’t bother with the rest of the body this time, just drove his sword down into Windblight’s eye, bright next to the broken arrow shaft, twisted it until bright blue liquid was mingling with purple blood. He refused to acknowledge the burn from the Blight’s malice hand through his clothes as it clawed at him, and with a final grunt Link shoved his sword right through to the other side of its damned head. There was no noise but the gurgle of blood for a moment, and then the wind was audible again as Windblight melted into the lichen.

Link stumbled back, back aching and side burning. The lichen shuddered, soft red distorted for a moment, before settling down into the same carpet it was before. Link turned back to the control unit, and a mangled blue lump is sprawled out in front of it. He expected it to struggle to its feet and make some drawling quip, but Revali didn’t move.

Link moved towards the control panel, paying little attention to the blistering heat down his side, and didn’t like what he found. Revali lay on his back and his body looked cracked to pieces, lingering malice clinging to feathers and burned exposed skin. The malice gurgled without a care as Link knelt down; a broken wing, snapped in at least three places, jutted out, too misshaped to be recognized at first, and a crooked leg. There was something off about the foot that Link didn’t know enough about Rito anatomy to put a name to. Revali’s was breathing though, harsh, gurgling, and wonderful to hear, because even if each breath sounded like choking it meant Mipha survival hadn’t been a fluke.

Still, looking down at the twisted up body of a maybe-friend sent a shrill prick of panic down Link’s spine. It was one thing to clot a bloody hand or straighten a broken nose, but he didn’t know a thing about Rito anatomy and Revali’s arm was snapped in too many pieces, shoved in too many directions to be sure what went where. Link rested a hand on Revali’s back. He didn’t even twitch. Link shook him gently, scared to damage anything further, even called his name in a wobbly, near-silent, painful voice that makes no difference other than setting alight a knot of pain in Link’s throat and chest.

Slowly Link rolled him over, wincing when he scrapped the shattered wing against the stone floor. He’d fix that, Link promised, as soon as he found which wound was holding too tightly to him. Link found it as soon as Revali was off his stomach—three perfectly circular burns across his chest that had to be from the Blight’s canon. The force of the blasts had been enough to cave in his ribs. Malice pulsed from the burns, happily sinking into the discolored flesh, and the image of vile red and black eating away at organs, breaking down a body into nothing hitched in Link’s lungs until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t turn his head away, couldn’t imagine fixing something like that. He settled back on his heels and let out as deep a breath as he could. Panicking helped neither of them.

He reached a hand over the least severe burn—best to start small—and closed his eyes. He needed this. He let the words sink into him. He needed this because he was confused over what Revali was, who he was, but he was still a someone, someone who could help get this Divine Beast out of the sky and help children sleep soundly in their hammocks again, who could help bring back the Princess, someone who shared his goals and didn’t deserve to rot Goddess knew how many feet up in the air. They both needed this because Link couldn’t stand to be alone in this chill anymore and couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Revali in it.

When Link opened his eyes the flesh was still dark, the quills exposed, vern charred, but the skin was clear and intact. Link let out a breath he hadn’t know he’d been holding. It was deeply worrying that Revali had given no response to what was surely a painful experience, but Link chose not to dwell on that. He moved to the concave in Revali’s chest, ribs forced down and skin reeking, sweet and meaty, and sunk back down into the words. He could feel the wound moving under his touch this time, bones snapping back into place and shifting under the skin—a disgusting feeling, but hopefully a good one. It made him shiver, a shot running down his spine and into his stomach.

Link leaned back onto his heels and squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment, just long enough for his insides to settle back down inside his skin. It was a groan that makes him open his eyes, a dry but sticky sound and Link on Revali’s twitching—moving!—body in an instant, helping shift him up off the stone floor and against Link’s good side. His hands are raised to say something, anything, when Revali let out a gargled gagging sound and doubled over, malice dripping slowly from the sides of his mouth first, then a stream of it, still searing hot as it dissolved into air, and when the red shit was finally gone he was shaking like some small hypothermic creature. Revali took in a ragged breath.

‘Hey,’ Link signed, and after a long, dull look Revali seemed to recognize the word. ‘You’re okay. Everything is okay.’ Revali shifted and buried his face in the crook where Link’s shoulder ended and neck began, and regardless of how tightly wound as he was, Link let it be. If it meant time to rest the pulsing hole in his side or his aching back, he could be alright with it.

Link didn’t know how long they sat there; not too long, as Link was still counting his breaths when the soft lurch in Link gut demanded his attention. The wing was tilted; when Link looked towards the empty control panel his insides stopped. The Blight had been controlling the Divine Beast, and now it was gone. Vah Medoh wasn’t tilting. It was falling. Fuck, Goddess above, Link’s brain manages to string together as he jerked to his feet, knocking Revali aside. That’s just not fair—he grabbed hold of Revali and hauled him up as well. Revali swayed on his feet, putting most of his weight on Link’s arm, but he didn’t fall. That was probably a good sign.

It took an obnoxious amount of effort to sign with Revali hanging off of him, and even then the Rito didn’t seem to be internalizing a word he was signing.

‘I need to get the controls back on—either tell me how or do it yourself.’ He signed for a second time, hands much harsher, sharper, and when Revali didn’t answer he sighed and let Revali find his way back to the floor. Link knew he was acting like an ass, especially when the sheen of pain was spread so thick across Revali’s eyes, but he decided that given the giant stone Beast beginning to lose altitude over a town Link had promised to take care of, manners could be put aside for a while.

The control panel was different than Vah Ruta’s, the only Divine Beast Link had vaguely known how to operate a hundred years ago, and that did nothing to ease the bud of panic growing at the base of his spine. Okay. Okay, it was probably intuitive. He’d figure it out. The smooth, simple blue that flowed and ebbed across the divots of Ruta’s panel was replaced by an angular, sharp figured base that made Link very glad he had been flung into Ruta’s control panel instead of this one—he had a feeling this would have impaled him instead of just (just, ha!) cracking his skull. He ran a hand over the rigid plates atop the panel and they chirped under his finger, blue popping into life. Link brought his other hand up and stumbled back as a short bundle of feathers shoved him aside. Revali was trembling as he yanked his wing the other way across the panel, blue singing under his hand.

Revali cradled his left arm to his chest and Link hovered close, ready to catch him if the shaking in Revali’s legs overpowered his fragile balance. His wing moves with surprising reverence over the panel, the loving touch softening the harsh edges, and the happy blue followed his hand closely.

Revali’s legs did give after a surprisingly long while, and Link held him close, silently apologizing for the shattered wing squeezed between the two of them, but Revali barely seemed to notice; just let his head rest of Link’s shoulder as he finished helping his Beast in her descent. Link almost tripped as he helped move Revali back towards the edge; it was a bow, black and blue and elegant, and, taking care to keep Revali balanced, Link snatched the Great Eagle bow up and hooked up over his shoulder. Revali’s sharp moment of clarity seemed to be fading. He pressed more and more weight against Link as they debarked. Revali is lighter than Link imagined—perhaps his bones were as hollow like birds?—but the dead weight still pushed harshly into his back.

He dragged the two of them further down the Rito boarding platform to the topmost levels of Rito Village. Revali didn’t move when footsteps round the curve in front of them, didn’t look up when a bandaged but armed Teba followed by another dark feathered Rito run into view.

“Fuck.” Teba breathed.

“Fuck.” The other Rito said over him.

“Harth—” The other Rito, Harth probably, was moving without Teba taking to ask. Link stepped back as Harth tried to unhook Revali from his side, and soon more Rito were rounding the corner, all color of feathers climbing up those stairs to see the resting stone claws of the Divine Beast. Link moved back from the crowd. He wasn’t going pass Revali off to some stranger with no medical expertise.

“Link, come on, you’re hurt; we should go,” Teba whispered in Link’s ear. Link hadn’t even noticed him move, and when Teba put a careful wing on his bad side’s shoulder Link’s burn splits awake. He shook Teba off and this time it was Saki holding softly to Revali’s exposed shoulder.

“I’ll get him somewhere safe.” She said, and Link didn’t hand him to her so much as she lifted Revali off of him. “You should get to the infirmary too—Alana can take you.”

I'm fine,’ Link is tempted to sign, and Link can tell Teba sensed it.

“There’s a hole in your side size of your hand.” He said, and with the growing size of the crowd—Link didn’t even realize that many Rito were still living in Rito Village—staying and chatting sounded extremely unpleasant. The dark green Rito beside Saki offered her wing, and with some hesitance, Link took it.

Chapter Text

Alana was nice—a simple kind of nice, chatty and loud with a kind smile and firm hands. The dark green feathers on her wings were stiff and tacky, which she explained away as working with so many salves these days, serving as the only real healer in town after her coworkers and colleagues slowly disappeared over Rito Village’s main bridge as the Divine Beast drifted lower and lower.

She didn’t seem bitter as she spilled it all to Link while she snipped away the fabric of his snowquill tunic, exposing the raw wound on his side and the charred black and blue of his back without jostling anything too much.

“We’ll get you a new one.” She promised as she raised Link’s arm up and let it rest against his head. The stretch burned but Link held himself stock still; she settled down eye level with the blackened skin on his side with tiny tweezers in one hand and even tinier scissors in the other.

“The ribs don’t look too bad!” She said as she picked off a piece of dead skin. The pull on healthy flesh was deeply uncomfortable, and the closer she got to the mass of blisters at the center of the wound, pushing into seared skin every now and then with her scissors, the harder became not to squirm away from her touch. Link curled his toe as the metal points jabbed into a blister, knowing if he twitched it would just hurt more, and after pulling a long piece of black skin from the rest of the burned, greasy flesh, Alana stepped back and dropped her tools on a side table. Dozens of bright candles sat around the room, most carved into fat, hulking dragons with surprisingly kind faces. They kept the room well lit; night having finally fallen, and the smell of sandwort and pine helped clear Link’s head as Alana moved to a shelf of locked and carefully labeled bottles. 

“Take a few of these for the next week-- they should help with any bruising on the bones—” She passed him a bottle of white elixir, and when Link took a sip his throat tried to push back against him; it was foul and thick, gritty and chalky, like spoiled milk mixed with sand. “—I’d be much more comfortable with you in a brace, hold everything together while it shifts back into place. I suppose your rib cage is much small than our adults, but if I modified a children’s it should fit you. Keep that back nice and straight!”

Link just took another deep swig of the elixir. It tasted disgusting but was certainly fast-acting; his side felt numb and warm, like it had fallen asleep without any prickling feels of pins and needles afterward. Alana said something about finding some brace, and as soon as she was gone he slouched back down in the chair and ran a hand over the much cleaner wound.

It was getting easier to slip down into the headspace that surrounded Mipha’s Grace. Not perfect, not intuitive, but easier, like asking permission before entering an acquaintances home. It welcomed him now, knew him—Link liked that. A part of him mind recognizing him felt wonderful, ecstatic, even if it wasn’t even a real part of him. ‘Welcome’ it said, ‘it’s good to see you.’

There was nothing good about the pain, though. There was nothing good about hurting to help. Nothing good. Link reminded himself of that has he pushed deeper and let icy lake water flood over his senses and sink into his side. It burned—it burned worse than Windblight’s blasters, and Link could taste blood in his mouth from a bit tongue, but the pain is gone in only a few moments. Link raised his arm back further to get a good look at his side; any black skin left behind by Alana was gone, along with almost all the blisters. The greasy white flesh was pink and dry. Link took a deep, full bodied breath and there was no protest in his chest. No groaning, stabbing pain from his ribs. Wonderful.

Ignoring the ache in his back, Link hopped down from the chair. Revali was around here somewhere

He was surprised by how well he remembered the village’s twisting steps and in a few moments he was at the Elder’s roost. The rocking chair was empty but hushed voices drifted from the doorway at the back of the roost. Link pushed past the curtain of painted wooden beads and found a room with thick curtains pulled over the windows, lit only by carved candles that filled the whole room with the smell of cinnamon and clove. Three people huddled around the wide, elegant hammock at the far side of the room; Teba, a gray feathered healer, and Elder Kaneli, all whispering over the blue mess of feathers in the hammock.

“You’re here—” Teba said, looking over his shoulder towards Link, “—You should be with Alana.”

Link raised his arm and rolled his shoulder and Teba’s eyebrows raised just an inch.

“Alana works faster than I would have thought. Still, you should—”

‘I’m fine—can I see?’ Link signed, turned his head to the healer. They let him step up to the hammock. Seeing Revali outside of the fading sunlight of Vah Medoh was different. His wing had been set, held in place by pieces of pine wood, and most of the feathers around his burns had been sheered short. Malice residue and blood had been wiped away—he no longer looked on deaths’ door, but each breath was raspy and pained. Link took a deep breath, raised his hand, and lit it up blue.

Revali wailed, jerking up from the hammock is a full body spasm, and the healer had just grabbed hold oh Link to drag him away when Revali’s crusted eyes opened.

“You’re going to kill me after I spent all this effort not being dead.” Revali rasps, barely a whisper, and the light in Link’s hand dulls at once. The room went silent. Revali looked up at them with bleary, squinted, pain cloudy eyes, and his gaze flickered around the room before falling and lingering on Link’s face.

“Link” He breathed, a little of the anxiety leaving his face, before he realized he didn’t know anyone else in the room.

“Where’s Zelda?” He croaked. All eyes turned to Link. Link realized that he had never been more grateful that Mipha had been told about the situation before Link found her. Goddesses, he didn’t want to have this conversation.

“The others—”

“It’s fine.” Link signed. No, no, nothing is fine, but he hadn’t thought about how he was supposed to explain this till now.

Revali sighed, muscles melting back into the hammock. “So she’s safe?”

Link was too aware of the eyes on him. He hated it, hated the silent expectation— hated Revali’s eyes, lucidity fighting against pain, looking at him with an exhausted hope.

“No.” Link signed. His hands felt a hundred times heavier. “No, she’s not.”

“Then why are you here?” Revali said, voice surprisingly tight, cutting clean through the room. “Isn’t the whole point that you’re supposed to be together—” Raspy coughs cut through him and the healer was back at his side in an instant, easing him back down.

‘There was a situation—I was hurt, we were separated and things went downhill from there.’

Revali sighed. It came out as a painful rasp but the tension seemed to ease out of his face.

“So that’s why you’re here,” He says with something that was likely intended to be a cheeky smile. “Have to get Hyrule’s best equipped before we fix this.” He tried to sit up again but the healer gently held him down. “Just—just give me something for the pain and tell Benko I’m leaving.”

Link glanced at the Elder and Revali’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s Benko? Couldn’t be bothered to come to my bedside vigil?”

Elder Kaneli finally spoke. “Elder Benko—Elder Benko was my grandfather. I am afraid things have changed greatly since the Great Calamity—”

“No shit.”

“Over this past century—”

“Century?” Revali pushed himself up and out of the healer’s hands. “Did you say a damn century?” He turned to Link. Link desperately wished that someone had already had this conversation with Revali before Link arrived. Unsure what shapes to make with his hands, Link simply nodded.

“Goddesses above…” Revali began laughing, a breathy chuckle that built into something so deep Link worried he might choke.

“Then you’re looking pretty good for 117. I still look better, though.”

The corners of Link’s mouth twitched up just a little, and the sight of it seemed to help Revali relax.

“Knew you couldn’t do it by yourself, right?” The jab didn’t seem malicious but it still cut, and Link found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the raw edges of the burns on Revali’s chest. “What’s the matter? Don’t look at me like that—the others, where—”

He struggled to move out of the hammock and the healer held him down, much more forceful this time.

“Let me—just—fuck—”

‘Revali just… just please sit down.’ He sank back down into the hammock, and Link knew if his whole body wasn’t aching he’d be preening the feathers on his forearms and the back of his hands just as he always did when he was nervous.

‘The others…’ Link lowered his hands and started over, unsure of where to even start. ‘The others’ Beasts turned against them too and I… I was put to sleep, I guess, in, in the Shrine of—’

“Resurrection. Robbie and I had some rather in-depth discussions about its functions.”

‘It changed things. Messed with my head. I can’t remember anything from before I woke up in the Shrine.’

Revali’s face slipped into something soft and blank, and Link felt that the Link before all this, before the Shrine and Calamity, would know what that face meant, would know how to read it, but this Link, this useless half-here-half-gone Link, was at a loss.

“What?” Link never wanted to dissect a single word so badly.

‘I don’t—I can’t remember anything from—”

“You what?”

‘I just—it was an accident, we don’t know what happened, it just spat me out like this and—’

“Get out.”

Link blinked. ‘What?’

“Just—get out. Leave me alone, just get out of here.” His voice rose and cracked with each word until he was a coughing mess, and as the healer scrambled to bring him water Link backed away from him.

“—Link” Teba said, reaching for his wrist, but Link was already gone, walking from the roost as civilly as he could before taking off, nearly tripping down the stairs as he ran, needing to get anywhere away from ancient technology and stupid fucking quest and expectations and not-maybe-friends.

When he finally leaned against the wall of some abandoned roost, trying to catch his breath, he decided to move up, as high as the stairs will let him go. He wanted to feel small as he saw the world below him. He started to climb upwards, keeping his eyes firmly on his feet. The sky was truly dark now. It was a good thing he had brought the Beast… that Revali had brought the Beast down when they did. The thought of being in that haunted grave after dark made him shiver.

The path he took upwards was eerily familiar. He hated it. He didn’t know if he hated it, if he had the right to hate it, but with Revali and his bitter tongue below him, he decided he wanted to hate everything. Just for a moment. He deserved a moment.

The night brought a chill that cut deeper than the icy wind this morning and Link was painfully aware of the fact that Alana had stripped him down to his bare chest to treat his back and side. He wrapped his arms tight around him and let out a low sigh, watching white mist take the place of his breath and hang in the air like a dragon’s tongue. He should go back. The stairs flatten into an observation deck. Link walked to the edge of the safety rail and looked out over the lake, the soft light of Rito Stables, the pearl white peaks of Hebra.

It wasn’t fair. He felt childish for thinking such a thing, but it hung in his head none the less. He wanted Revali to smile and welcome him with open arms, wanted him to explain the strange conflicting thoughts in his head. Some part of him he didn’t understand wanted to shove that healer out of the way and run his hands over Revali’s feathers until he knew for sure he was safe. Wanted to will away all that pain any way he could.

He noticed the first tear because of how startlingly warm it was against the searing cold. It dripped from his jaw onto the wooden safety rail, vandalized with names and crude drawings and lover’s names tied together and surrounded by hearts. More dripped down, hot and heavy on his cheeks, and Link slumped down onto the ground with a shuddering breath. It wasn’t fair. They were supposed to beat the Calamity back, the six of them working together perfectly, but he had failed and left them to die, left the Princess alone to suffer for a hundred fucking years and it wasn’t fair.

He buried his face in his knees until his breathing settled and he face felt less warm. He hiccupped, painfully glad he was alone in the dark away from anyone else. Fuck. Fine. He could handle not being wanted here, 100%. It didn’t really matter, his job was to purge the Beasts, not make (re-make?) friends or exchange friendship bracelets. If he wasn’t wanted here then he’d just leave. There wasn’t any point leaving Daruk, Urbosa, and the Princess waiting for any longer. He tilted his head back to the sky. It wasn’t dark anymore. It glowed, green streaking across the sky, purple and yellow bleeding away from it in thin, glittering strands. It didn’t matter that Link had been in tears just seconds before—the lights were enough to distract him from the entire world, enough to wipe his mind clean as he soaked in the color.

“You should stay,” Revali says. Link looks away from the night sky, tilting his head back further to see Revali. He is quite a sight from here, the glowing northern lights glinting across his blue feathers, features angular and curved. Revali’s left simple braids across Link’s scalp, twisting and untwisting locks of hair, and the soft motions sends shivers down Link’s back. His head rests on Revali’s thigh, and Revali’s hand stills in Link’s hair. “Not long, just a little while.”

‘I can’t.’ Link is tempted to add a ‘you should know that’ after the words, but the night is too gentle for that.

“Only a little while longer—his Majesty can wait.”

‘He’s my boss.’

Revali scoffs. “He’s a prat.”

‘He’s my king!’

“Then he’s a royal prat, no difference.”

Link looks back towards the green-purple-red of the sky. The silence stretches on, far longer than Link is comfortable with, so he shakes out his hands and pokes at conversation.

‘It’s not like it really matters what he is. I think this Calamity situation will all be over sooner than later.’

“You can’t really know that. It’s a waiting game at this point.”

‘The Princess and I ran into something a week or so ago. I’ve noticed more monsters coming out of the woodworks but never like that… the Princess thinks it is some kind of premonition, related to her prophecy or something. And she’s been having these nightmares… I don’t doubt she can take care of herself, but she got so close to the action last week and we both know she’s not much in the way of fighting. She doesn’t know when to step back—'

“You don’t know when to step back—”

‘I think she’s right. About the premonition. I think it is one. She’s so damn smart, it’s exhausting being in court where no one else can see it—’

“Link.”

Link sighs through his nose. ‘It’ll be over soon anyway, and everything can just settle down again.’ Revali’s hands slowly start moving through his hair again. Link leans into them. Feathers tickle at his ears and Link raises a hand to brush against them.

“You could come back here you know. Once everything’s over.” Revali says, moving slowly over the syllables.

Link curls his fingers around the feathers. ‘I doubt they’d let me leave court.’

“So? Leave, there’s nothing holding you there after this.”

‘But the Princess—’

“You’re your own person, Link. You don’t belong to anyone but yourself. No one.”

Link raises his hands, lowers them, raises them again. Finally, after staring up at the green for what feels like forever, he begins to move his fingers.

‘You know, the Princess told me the northern lights are because of reactions of gas in the atmosphere, but… I think you’re right about them really being dragon tracks. Let her have her science. I like your magic better.’ He shifts to sneak an arm around Revali’s waist.

‘I’ll leave midday instead of first light. Leave time for the air to get warm.’

“Thank you.”

Link didn’t realize he had started crying again. He fought back the urge to knock his head hard on the safety rail and stood, wrapping his arms around himself as a particularly cold wind blew past.

When he reached the inn a room had already been rented in his name, a new set of clothes on the dresser and a tin bed warmer still at the foot of the bed buried under quilts. Link flopped down and buried his head in the pillow. Maybe if he tried hard enough he could will himself to wake up 100 years ago with the Link everyone else wanted—needed—more the one they were left with here.

---

He woke up to the natural light streaming through the wide windows and promptly rolled over, pulled up the covers over his head, and went back to sleep.

Or tried to. The need to move, to get out of this stuffy little room, was itching on the back of his neck, and the quilt was suddenly suffocating. He peeled the heavy sheets off of him and stared up at the high ceiling. The wooden ceiling beams were painted in swirling patterns, elk and artic foxes painted red and green and blue, dancing around each other across the wood. The wind whistled outside the windows, trying to push through the glass, but the fire crackling in front of the bed—finally, a real bed and not a shaky hammock—kept the room warm, even if it left the air smelling faintly of smoke.

Link slid off the bed, toes curling as his bare feet hit the icy floor, and bundled up in the snowquill tunic someone had left him last night. The lined boots were heaven against the chill of the floor.

He should leave. There was no real point staying any longer if he wasn’t wanted. Packing didn’t take long. Link may be an unorganized mess inside that tallowed bag, but he still didn’t hold onto much—the barest of cooking supplies, bundles of herbs, a fire starter and knife sharpener. Paya’s gift. Most of the room was taken up by small, pointless little things he had picked or plucked and slipped into his pocket along the way: a smooth hag stone, a pretty rock, sweet honey candy, small little berries… and bundled in grease cloth, bits of teeth and horns pulled from monster corpses. Link didn’t like to tell people he kept those.

He should leave. He should leave, he should leave. Instead, he shoulders his pack, leaves a few rupees as a tip on the pillow even if the room was already paid for, and begins to climb up the stairs to Teba and Saki’s home. The two of them are already awake, sitting around the cooking pot while Tulin struggled to keep his sleepy little head up out of his breakfast.

“Link!” Saki smiled and stood, ushering him inside. “Please, sit, have you eaten? Eat, eat, we have plenty to share.”

Link almost declines, almost says he popped in for a quick goodbye and had no intention of lingering in Rito Village for any longer than completely necessary, but Tulin, all bedhead and white fluff, jerks his head up at Link’s name and his wide eyes, suddenly bright and awake, crumble Link’s resolve. He stepped inside.

The whole roost smelled spicy, tickling Link’s nose and the back of his throat as a thick creamy stew bubbled in the cooking pot. Shredded cucco and soft, doughy dumplings floated in heavy cream and minced spicy peppers. Tulin rushed to serve Link a bowl, limbs still heavy with sleep, and Link welcomes the warmth of the bowl even through his gloves. A cold front must be coming in, he though. The air felt so much colder than when he arrived. But Saki and Teba’s floor was covered in furs and fluffy woolen rugs that kept the cold out as Link sat with the by the fire, and Tulin all but crawled into his lap.

“Dad says you helped bring down the big bird thing,” He said, looking at him with wide, excited eyes. “And Molli says you guys did it with big bomb arrow things! She said she saw it but Jerico says she’s lying—I’m not allowed to touch bomb arrows! Did’ja do it? Can you show me? Please show me, I’ve never got to see them all up close—”

“It’s awful early to be pelting him with questions,” Saki said, scooping Tulin off of Link and into her arms. “Let’s be polite now, alright?”

Teba nodded. “We didn’t invite him in to peck him to death….” He took a sip off stew. “Have you spoken to the Elder yet? I’m sure he’d like to know you’re leaving.”

‘No. I don’t want to make a big deal of things. No need to make a ruckus.’

Teba hmmed. “Are you going to say goodbye to Rev—”

‘No.’

Teba raised an eyebrow at the forcefulness of Link’s movements.

“I think he would appreciate the company.”

‘He’s made it clear that I am not welcome. I see no need to invade his space. I’m leaving.’

“Just a hello wouldn’t hurt.”

‘No—’

“I think he would appreciate a familiar face.”

Link set down the bowl a little too forcefully and stood. ‘I think it’s time for me to head out. Thank you for the food.’ His hands were stiff, like the words were coming through a clenched jaw, fingers curled and bitter.

“Link—” Saki called as she stood, but Link was already moving past the doorway and onto the stairs. He could hear her calling after him and was desperately grateful that she didn’t choose to follow. He moved down the stairs, following along the main stretch of railing until he found himself back at the front gates.

They were taller than he remembered, singed but tall and well carved, beautifully painted with warm, steady brush strokes. There, tucked the in corned against the wood walls and covered in flowers, was the Goddess statue. Link stood; his shadow fell over her yet didn’t touch her at all and he found himself frozen for a moment. The urge to say a prayer, say anything, sat in his gut, a leftover reflex from 100 years ago.

Let her have her science. I like your magic better

The goddess statue seemed to glitter in the morning light; maybe she was glittering, her simple stone hiding the glowing piece of a holy soul.

I like your magic better.

Link sighed and started up the stairs again. He stared down at his feet the whole climb up. His stomach pushed and pulled inside of him, not sure if it should urge him forward or push him back down the stairs away from the Elder’s roost. The Elder wasn’t home, thank the Goddesses, and the back room was silent as Link passed through the hanging bead door.

The curtains were drawn; Link wasn’t sure he had seen a roost with curtains since he arrived—the room was dim, the only light coming from the beaded doorway and the candles around the room. The smell of cinnamon was overwhelming.

The lump of blue and white and black feathers shifted at the sound of footsteps and looked over its shoulder. His eyes were hard as they found Link, but something else hid in them; desperation, sadness—longing. It settled uncomfortably between Link’s shoulder blades.

‘I’m leaving. I thought that you should know.’ He signed. Revali just stared. The silence stretched on and Link had to fight not to.

‘Were we friends? Everything is all jumbled up and I can’t—were we?’ Revali didn’t move, and finally the anger Link had been keeping down since Revali first opened his damn mouth began to bubble up to the top.

‘Fine. If you want to act like an ass then I’ll just leave. I can’t believe I thought—I thought—fuck whatever I though! Fuck you.’

He’s already in the front room when a rough, wet voice called after him:

“Take her with you. She’s more helpful to you than she is gathering dust on a wall. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Link turned back to him and his eyes fell on the Great Eagle bow on the wall. Someone—Harth maybe?—had cleaned it up, rubbing it down with fresh varnish and bear grease, restrung it, and hung it up with care. Link raised a hand to the white detailing and glanced back to Revali, half expecting to be chewed to pieces for touching his things, but instead, Revali just stared back at him with exhausted eyes.

“If I find out you aren’t checking her cables, or drawing the bowstring past her draw length, or dry firing her I swear I’ll—" Revali was cut off by hacking, wet coughs, and Link was by his side in an instant, waterskin in hand. Link ran his hand softly down Revali’s back, rubbing between his shoulder blades. Did Revali feel the same déjà vu as he did?

‘…. Do you remember the one time I was sick and the Princess holed me up in your room?’

“Do you?”

‘ We—I, you served me the strangest tea I had ever drank before. You seemed almost… kind for once.’

Revali leaned back into the hammock and sighed.

“I suppose I do.”

There is a beat of silence as Link stayed there, running his hand through the feathers on Revali’s back, seemingly unable to pull away.

“It’s so quiet here,” Revali said. “It used to be so loud—you had to learn to sleep with all the sound of people moving up and down those stairs, merchants babbling into the late hours of the night. They call it a village now. The thought of Rito City becoming a village… it’s bizarre. And I wasn’t even there to watch it happen.” Link didn’t know where the urge came from or how the courage to do it appeared, but he slowly moved up into the hammock beside Revali, hand never leaving his back.

“We were friends,” Revali whispered, leaning back against Link. “I like to think we were friends.”

‘I remember some things.’ Link signed. ‘Like… like that you preen the feathers on the back of your hands when you're nervous. I—I don’t know much, but I’d like to learn.’

Revali shifted to rest his head on Link’s should and a shudder of melancholy ran down Link’s spine. There was exhaustion to Revali’s movements, and for a moment the guilt of waking up whole and perfect in that damn Shrine while Revali was shot full of holes was overwhelming.

“You were impossible to keep track of.” He said. “You were in the city one second and out in Warbler’s Nest or Nero Hill the next. Restless. It was annoying as all hell.” Link’s hand drifted up to brush against one of Revali’s braids. The twisted feathers left a warm, strange stone in his gut. Hand’s in his hair, twisting and pulling, running fingers over soft, feathery braids—

‘You would braid feathers in my hair sometimes when it got warm and you molted. You were so proud of them, said it was proof of—of—I don’t know, it’s all a jumble. I’m confused. I feel like I’m only ever confused.’

“Ownership,” Revali said after a deep sigh. He picked at the feathers on the back of his hands. “Monogamy, I suppose you could say.” His voice was soft, his gaze far away, and Link thought back to the thousand-mile stare on Vah Ruta as the two of them watched the sunset together.

‘I love this kingdom,’ Revali had said, ‘I love my friends, and—I…’

Link curled tighter around Revali.

“I don’t want your pity.” He spat, pulling away, and Link’s eyes are heavy and sad as he looked at him.

‘I want to know this,’ he signed, fingers slow. ‘If you want nothing to do with me, fine, but I want to know this.’

As Revali slumped and leaned against him, Link wondered if you could miss someone without even knowing you were missing something.

---

Link left as the sun finally reached midday. He tucked the small braid, blue feathers clumsily weaved in with injured fingers, behind his ear, and the sight of it in the reflection of a storefront window made him feel warmer than he had his entire trip here.

Empty blue and black reflected back at him when he opened the map on his Sheikah slate. The Geurdo were farther than the Gorons, but between a hot desert and an active volcano, the Gerudo seemed the better option. With one last glance behind him, eyes lingering on the Elder’s roost, Link started across the wooden bridge and out of Rito Village into the wide-open world in front of him.

Chapter Text

Link didn’t realize he left his horse behind until he was poking at the bloody blisters on one foot while the other soaked in the cool waters of a stream near—near Washa Bluff he thought? He wiped his hand on his trousers and leaned back to dig through his pack for the map he’d swiped from Rito Village. He still wasn’t sure what was the point of the Sheikah slate even having a map if he had to wander around blind for what felt like forever before he could fill it in. Parchment maps, greased down to prevent moisture, were lighter and fucking worked , thank you very much.

Link could hear Tamio River moving sluggishly nearby, likely connected to his stream.

‘You’d think’, he thought bitterly as minnows swam cautiously forwards to nibble on the dead skin of his heels, ‘that after all those days walking from the Great Plateau to Kakariko the blisters would have hardened over.’ But they hadn’t and the obnoxiously long walk south proved to be enough to rub through the skin. Maybe he should have gone east to the Gorons; an active volcano was bad, but at this point, blisters felt worse. Link didn’t mind the warmth though. He’d stuffed his snowquil tunic away as soon as the cold air turned warm, and the sun warming the fabric of his Champion’s tunic felt heavenly after so much cold. The thought of curling up under a tree and just dozing through the afternoon sounded lovely. Surely a nap couldn’t hurt?

He looked up past the stream to the rocky outcropping across the horizon. According to the map, the green pile of earth was called Satori Mountian. Link wouldn’t call it a mountain—it was too gently slopped for that—but the peek was dusted with pink, almost begging for him to take a detour and see what he could find. The color struck him as the kind of place a shrine might be hiding, or, at the very least, a korok of some kind. The little things were always good for a quick smile and a soft laugh. A particularly big fish took too large of a chunk out of Link’s heel and he shooed it away. There wasn’t any harm in detouring just a little. His path was already long enough; a little hike wouldn’t change much.

He packed up, mourned the water and rest, and set out without much thought. The sun was still high and the sound of the water was pleasant enough. It couldn’t be too long of a walk.

He was wrong. It proved to be a ridiculously long walk.

His feet were aching again as he moved further up the mountain—how did he think this wasn’t going to be steep? How did he think this was a gentle slope?—and was considering stopping to set something alight to hold back the growing darkness when the glow of a fire through the trees caught his eyes. Oh, that was fantastic.

It was a small fire, well-tended with a cast iron pot nestled right in the flames. Around it sat three siblings, two boys and a girl, passing a loaf a bread between the three of them. As soon as Link passed the treeline the eldest’s eyes jumped to him.

“Oh—hello.” He said through a mouthful of bread. “Didn’t expect anybody up here this late” When Link didn’t reply he swallowed down his bread and coughed. “I guess you’re free to sit if you’d like?” He looked to his siblings for conformation. They all nodded. They were dressed for heavier travel than anyone else Link had passed since the Great Plateau, sporting packs with bed rolls and folded tarps tied to them in a heap in by their feet. Thin plates of cleats were tied to the soles of their shoes—mountain climbers, and from the weathered calluses on their hands, experienced ones.

Link hung just inside the light of the fire as the sister kicked their packs out of Link’s way. “You don’t look like you exactly prepped yourself for a climb,” she said. Link shook his head. “Figures, half the people that come climbing up here hoping to find ‘it’ don’t know a thing about climbing. Gets kinda insulting every now and then, ya know?”

Link finally sat on the dirt with a heavy thud. He hadn’t realized how numb his legs had become and knocked back the last of his water skin before taking a deep breath and truly turning his attention to the siblings.

‘My name’s Link—thank you for sharing the fire, I’ll admit I didn’t quite approach my hike well.’

The sister laughed, loud and ugly but not unkind, and stuck out a hand. “Ere. Pyketo and Krel are the ugly ones over there.” The two weakly protested, and Ere brushed it off with another laugh.

‘ What do you mean by it?’ Link signed.

“The Lord of the Mountain?” Pyketo scoffed at Link’s blank face. “Come on, man, you don’t have to pretend that’s not why you’re lugging yourself up here—that’s the only reason anyone bothers climbing Mount Satori. Don’t know why so many of y’all feel like you have to keep it some big secret.”

‘Actually—’

“Have you eaten yet?” Krel interrupted. “I’m finishing up a curry!”

‘Oh, uh, no. I haven’t. Thank you.’ Krel smiled.

“So you’ve never heard of it? It’s a nature spirit, alters as long as your arm—”

“A dozen eyes—”                                   

“Faces that point in every direction—”

“Oh shut up. It’s just a pretty beast, nothing to worry yourself over.” Ere said. Krel passed a bowl of spicy smelling curry, and the weight of it in Link’s hands was warm and comforting. “If you aren’t after it, why are you climbing up here without cleats or any gear?”

‘I figured I’d cut to Gerudo Valley through here.’

The siblings looked to each other before bursting into laughter.

“You’ve got a shitty sense of direction then,” Pyketo said. “You keep shooting south from here you’re going to hit the Gerudo highlands-- looking at the fact that you can’t even handle Satori, those mountains would eat you alive.”

“Here, let me look at your map, let me see if I can point you the right way,” Ere said, Link passed over his map to her. He poked around at the curry as she squinted at the path he marked down. It was spicy but surprisingly sweet, almost uncomfortably so. Link took another bite and found his arm was hard to move. Pins and needles ran up the muscle and the flesh felt heavy and weak at the same time. The bowl slipped through Link’s fingers—he’s hands were too numb to hold it.

“Something wrong, Hero?” Krel asked. His voice was dangerously cold and painfully smug. “Do you not like my cooking?”

Hero…

Link jumped to his feet and his legs fell out from under him, too heavy and shaky to hold his weight.

“Come on, Hero,” Pyketo said, thick Sheikah accent slipping through his Hylian one, “why don’t you just sit and enjoy your last meal.”

A chill ran through Link’s spine as he tried and failed to stand again.

“How cute .” Ere said. The air reeked of magic—Link remembered that smell, remembered it coating his nose and tongue as a Yiga eye stared up from under him. “I’m thinking that we chop him up into as many pieces as we can; it’ll make lugging him all the way to the boss much easier.”

Link scrambled back, fighting the sluggish drug in his blood, and as Krel drew a sickle the spike of fear was enough to force Link up, for him to turn and run.

“Come on Hero, let’s not make this harder than it needs to be!” Krel called out behind him. Link couldn’t hear him, couldn’t feel, couldn’t see, just forced his body to move—one step, two steps, moving his muscles and slamming them down, over and over again. He slammed into a tree, barely aware of the blood now dripping down his nose as he stumbled back. He forced himself around it and kept running.

His vision was near black, whatever was running through his body working to rob him of any light, and when his foot hit a root he went sprawling. He tried to stand but his legs were too numb. He couldn’t. Fuck, fuck, he couldn’t.

Link clenched his jaw and began to crawl. His hand hit water and he reached forward, his arm passing a small falling stream, too slow to be considered a waterfall, just sluggish dropping water with a gap of air behind it. He crawled forwards and pushed himself against the muddy rock wall behind the waterfall, squeezing himself as small as he could. His vision was too spotty to know if the hiding place was safe, but it was better than laying out in the open.

He heard footsteps, so light that he could barely hear them with his dulled senses.

“I cannot believe you lost a drugged 17-year-old.” Ere hissed, voice just feet away from Link’s hiding spot. He slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle his breathing.

“Please, it’s not like he can go far. He’s probably laying comatose behind some tree somewhere.”

“You’ve lost chopping privileges. When we find him I’m the one that gets to cut his throat and chop his head off.”

“ Ere !”

“Shut up. And if we can’t find him, you get to be the one to tell the boss.”

“Ere please—”

“Then I suggest you start looking harder.”

The footsteps slowly moved away but Link keep his breathing muffled and his diaphragm stiff. Eventually he could feel his breath on his fingers, see the light through the water. Feeling returned to his legs, reminding him how uncomfortable it was to be crammed in here. He blinked hard and held his hand in front of his face. He could see the fingers move.

Link wasn’t sure how long he stayed crouched in that little alcove, but when he finally crawled out he could feel all of his body. He laid out on the damp grass, letting the sun warm his numb skin. He stood and drew his sword, pretending his fingers weren’t shaking around the hilt.

The Yiga had gone through his stuff, left it throw around on the dirty ground among the ashes. Link kept his sword close by as his put his pack back together. Burned onto the map and reeking of magic was an upside-down eye. Link shuddered and decided it was best to leave it behind.

---

Link tried to leave the paranoia behind. It felt like being frightened let them win somehow, like if the spike of panic every time he noticed a traveler behind him was letting them burrow into his skin in just the way wanted. He wouldn’t let a few bastards ( a few travelers, indistinguishable from the others he pasted by, asking for help, offering help ) keep him from moving forwards.

He kept to the roads from then on. It felt safer that way.

Eventually, as the grass turned from green to brown to the dust under cliffs and ledges of Gerudo Valley, he was able to pretend he had put any thought of the Yiga behind him. Focusing instead on the changing terrane under his feet was more important.

His map was gone, his Sheikah slate was dark, and while Link could see a Sheikah tower on the tip of some tall, menacing cliff in the distance he had no interest in climbing up there. Beyond the bend of the road he could hear the dull squeals of bokoblins. Link hesitated. Freeing the path of the ugly little pig things would make it safer for other passersby—and maybe, a rather cruel part of him thought, cutting something down would help get his blood pumping again. Make him feel normal again.

What kind of person did it make him if cutting some creature into bits was what made him feel ‘normal’? Link shoved that thought deep into the back of his brain. It wasn’t helpful.

Link hoisted himself up onto rocky ledge and looked over the turn to the camp of bokoblins—most blue, one black, and a hulking moblin ripping apart what could have been a… a human thigh in front of their fire, blood dribbling down its jaw. They all sat turned away from their lookout—a tiny red bokoblin, likely shoved on guard duty due to its lowest rank—and Link drew an ice arrow. The Great Eagle bow felt as natural as an extension of his own arm as he pulled the bowstring back and let the arrow fly. Ice crawled up their lookout, keeping it frozen stiff and perfectly silent as he hopped back down to the grown and crept up to the camp.

He could have snipped them down from the ledge, but Link didn’t want to. He wanted to feel the swing of a sword in his hand, the give of it against flesh or bone, and he did not want to think about what that meant about him.

The first blue bokoblin dropped in seconds, his blade sunk into its gut from behind. There was a chorus of squeals as the bokoblins ran for their weapons, and the moblin stood, dropping its kill, towering a good foot over Link. Link tightened his hold on his sword. The adrenaline rushing through him at the sight of the moblin felt like an old friend.

Link ducked the way out of a charging bokoblin and grabbed it by the scruff of its neck, sending it sprawling to the floor. His blade slide in and out from between its shoulder blades easily, and the next one charging at him rammed itself right into the steal, moving too fast to move out of the way.

Bokoblins were slow, heavy, and easily distracted, and it took little time to dispatch of them. Leaving the moblin, who finally moved forward. Link charged forwards, ready to bury his sword into its side, but it grabbed hold of his hair as he moved passed and yanked him back. It hoisted him up with pathetic ease, its free hand grabbing hold of his throat while the one holding his hair left go to wrench his sword arm to the side, bending his wrist back to try and force the sword from Link’s hand. It pressed hard on his windpipe, hoisting him high enough for his toes to only brush the dirt. Link gulped, forcing in air he didn’t have, and swung a leg forward and right into the moblin’s gut. It groans, fingers slipping just for a moment, and it was enough for Link to wiggle his arm free, pull it up, and slice right through the moblin’s arm. Link dropped to the ground, sucking in as much air as he could as he yanked the thing’s severed arm off his throat, and allowed himself a fraction of a moment before he was up on his feet. The moblin stared down at its missing arm as if it couldn’t wrap its tiny monster brain around what had just happened. It didn’t even seem to notice when Link moved to lob it’s head off. Pathetic.

It didn’t take long to rip out and slice off the most intact horns and teeth from the monsters. Link wrapped them up in his oil cloth and stuck them back in the very bottom of his pack. His throat would have bruises in the morning. Strangely, he found he didn’t care. He cleaned the gore from his sword with a bokoblin’s loincloth and red-shouldered his pack.

Above him stretched scaffolding and pallets just barely shaking in the dry, hot breeze. Some of it looked old enough to have lasted a hundred years, but other pallets were topped with crusted firewood and rotten bone. Likely some monsters had taken root in them and migrated upwards. For a second Link considered abandoning the task at hand for a moment to scale up on one scaffolding and see what lie past these huge cliffs— How high would they take him? How much of the Gerudo Valley would he be able to see?

He can imagine it now; the wood creaking under his feet, swaying slowly—dangerously—in contrast with the lazy, hot breeze in his hair. He’d leave footprints in the red dust as he shuffled across between cliffs, the red cuts of rock glowing in the afternoon sun.

Link shook the thought out of his head. Ganon… after he destroyed the damn pig thing and rescued her Majesty he could wander as many scaffolding as he wanted, scale as many cliffs, wade through any waters. Link didn’t often let himself think of what came after this . It was a hazy vague outline, too far away to even think of as real. But with two Divine Beasts under his arm the outline was becoming clearer. Being able to find his own wild horse and travel without the pressure of the apocalypse behind him, find the tallest peaks in Hyrule, the sweetest smelling grasslands, maybe spend days by the ocean, existing as himself for once.

But the Princess will be there after slaying Ganon. A Princess waiting for her Knight, not whoever this was.

He ignored the scaffolding for the rest of the walk and tried to keep his head empty. The heat around him had originally slipped in unnoticed, but now it was unbearable. He should have stayed at the bokoblin camp till dark; should have, at the very least, waited for the sun to go down. He knew he was walking into a desert, damn it, he should have waited.

Lanayru’s swamps had been hot, but nothing like this; the dryness seemed to suck any moisture from his eyes and tongue, leaving a fine dusting of dirt across all exposed skin. He had stopped to pull off his undershirt what felt like ages ago and it still hadn’t seemed to do any good. Salt crystals mixed with grit under his molars and sweat stung his eyes as it dripped down his hair. His shirt on his back was soaked and dripping. The heat could have been bearable if not for the wind. Fiery and full of sand, it stung every bit of exposed skin and cut like knives. Link knew he hadn’t been moving long since the altercation with the bokoblins but he found himself sinking to the ground regardless. When had the firm stone ground become so sandy? He took out his water skin and took deep sips, careful not to spill a drop. He could feel dehydration coming on and he didn’t know how long it would be until he found another water source.

The wind blew again, cutting across his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, just for a moment, just to finally be free for the sun for a second—

He hates the heat, Link has decided. He loathes it, loathes the headache it brings, loathes his aching eyes and burning cheeks and the feeling of being too dry and too wet all at once. Impa doesn’t seem phased though, and if the Princess is, she doesn’t show it.

Link had expected her to put even more of a fight than usual at having to have two escorts to Gerudo Town, but it seemed having a friend along as muscle made up for having to put up with Link. With Link unable to step into Gerudo Town, his Majesty felt it necessary to also choose a female guardian to escort Zelda to town, and as the highest-ranking of the Sheikah personnel, Impa had been an easy choice. The Princess adored her, though Link was unsure of their history, and while he was ashamed to admit prejudice had made him wary of her at first, Impa seemed to care more for the Princess’ wellbeing than half the Court combined.

General Urbosa had met them at the mouth of the desert, eyes bright and clear at the sight of her little bird, and now the two walk shoulder to shoulder, close enough to touch if not for the constant dripping sweat, while Impa hung back beside him.

“You changed your hair.” Urbosa says as the Princess stopped for a drink. Impa’s usually guarded face melts when she notices Urbosa’s attention. She runs a hand along the close-cropped white hair, bites of brown scalp visible through the stubble. “It shows you’ve moved further up the ranks again, correct?”

Impa nods a little too fast. “Keep this up and you’ll be next in line for the Elder.”

Her eyes widen, dark cheeks growing pink. “Thank you; such praise means much coming from a warrior of your standard.”

Urbosa smiles. It is nice, but vicious, like a friendly wolf, and she rubs a hand over Impa’s shorn hair.

“It’s practical—keeps it out of the way-” Impa tells her. Link squints at her, wavering beneath the blinding sun, drenched in sweat. The desert wind is fierce and hot as hell. “-the enemy can’t grab your hair if you don’t have any.”

When Urbosa throws her head back and laughs, her red hair burns like flames. “You Sheikah are paranoid. A good warrior doesn’t let the enemy get that close.” Her voice is light and joking, and when Impa smiles the red paint across her face cracks. Her face reddens even more, if that was even possible.

She isn’t subtle in the slightest, Link thinks, and based on Zelda’s half bitten smile, he isn’t the only one that notices.

“We should keep going. These sands are beautiful but unforgiving.” Urbosa says. Zelda stands and ties back her water skin.

“Yes,” she says, voice soft. “It would be a shame to lose you before you saw Gerudo Town’s gates for the first time, Champion.”

Link only found himself coming out of the memory when someone shoved him as he stumbled up to Gerudo stable, yelling something vulgar similar to ‘pay attention’. Link looked out past the small mill of travelers to the deserts maw, just meters away.

The Princess’ soft voice, her averted gaze, crawled under his skin. Champion.

“Get outta the fuckin’ road!”

The word Champion felt ominous. A warning.

Link didn’t need any warning.

“Fuckin, kid!” Link looked up and moved out of the way of a horse, a rather disgruntled woman pushing towards the stalls.

‘ Sorry!’ Link tried to sign, but she just rolled her eyes.

“Good Goddess, what an idiot…” she muttered, and Link moved inside to find some way to fill his dangerously light waterskin. He hadn’t known a stable was on this path—the cons of traveling without damn map—but the fact that he hadn’t heard or seen it, just kept marching on with his head lagging 100 years behind him frightened him. Usually the memories moved over him softly, like ripples on a lake, but he’d never zoned out like that before. For his senses to just stop like that—it wasn’t safe. What if something triggered a memory in the middle of a fight? That would be a humiliating way to go, skewered by a moblin because he was too busy with his head in the clouds.

         A colorful tarp stretched in front of the stables, offering shade to patrons and animals alike, who gathered around a wide stone well, filling water skins and refreshing horses. The water was lukewarm and grainy but still felt blessedly cool against his hands as Link leaned down and filled his water skin, squeezed between two travelers and their donkeys. He’d just managed to splash some water on his face before one of them elbowed him out from between them. At this point Link wouldn’t mind hooking his legs over the stone wall and dropping down between them into the water, but instead he brushed his wet bangs out of his eyes and moved towards the stable entrance to sit at the emptiest table he could find.

A woman dressed in colorful linen, a wide brand of richly patterned fabric stretched across her chest and shoulders, moved her back from the table’s bench to open a spot for him. Her dark brown skin, lidded golden eyes, and red curls marked her clearly as Gerudo—the first, Link realized, that he had seen outside of a dream or hazy memory in a hundred years.

“Sav'aaq, traveler. You’re new to the desert, aren’t you?” She said with a smile. Her accent threatened to dredge up old memories reeking of electricity and ozone, and Link had the feeling that she was laughing at him under all those colors.

“Your face.” She said at Link’s confused look. “It’s so burnt it might as well be a voltfruit. It’ll be peeling like an onion by nighttime.” Link’s hand brushed his face—the tender, hot skin was a telltale sign of a sunburn.

‘That bad?’ Link signed.

“No hearing?” She said in time with her hands, the signs polished and obviously familiar to her.

‘Throat.’

The Gerudo woman nodded. “My daughter doesn’t hear well. Fever stole her ears.” Her hands still moved with her words and Link appreciated it. For all the people he had met that understood signs, he’d never met one who bothered to speak it with him.

“A pleasure to meet you traveler. I’m called Nabo—if you plan on continuing through the Gerudo Desert I can supply with you with some merchandise to help prevent any further misfortunes, for a small fee—”

“Nabo !”

A Hylian man slid onto the bench, nearly shoving Link off on his ass, and Nabo’s face darkened.

“You’re back. ‘Wondered if a Molduga had finally got you or something—or some man finally took off with you.” He was short, tanned from the sun, with short light hair and a broken front tooth. Something about the way he held himself, so assured and lazy at the same time, rubbed Link the wrong way.

“Or, has a boy gotten a chance to squeeze in a word—”

“He’s a customer. Now leave us be, I don’t need your distractions.”

The man turned to Link with a lazy, cocky smile and extended a hand. “Koba.”

“Don’t bother with him.” Nabo hissed. “As I was saying—if you do wish to continue out into the desert I can provide you with enough cool elixir to reach Kara Kara Bazaar. Lovely spot—an oasis, trading post, swimming and good food—”

‘What about to Gerudo Town?’

Kabo snorted. “Kid wants to go see some ladies, huh? I wouldn’t advise climbing any outer walls, tried that myself—”

Nabo turned to keep her golden eyes entirely on Link.

“I have little patience for men who feel entitled to a Gerudo’s time, but given that you don’t seem to know better than to carry any cool elixirs with you, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you don’t know the laws of this desert—”

“Men can’t enter the town” Kabo’s voice dripped with something painfully uncomfortable. “They’re worried their girls might run off when they see a Hylian’s coc—”

“That’s enough .” Kabo raised his hands in some lazy sign of apology, but his smile didn’t slip.

“Sand eaters are so touchy.”

‘I’ll take however many it will take to reach Kara Kara Bazaar.’ Link signed. At least his interruption seemed to shut Kabo up.

“37 rupees.” Link passed over his rupees and as Nabo dug through her pack for a few bottles of elixir asked,

‘Are men really not allowed?’

“Voe may not set foot in Gerudo Town. It’s a law that has carried on for centuries, and I have no respect for men who attempt to bypass that.” Kabo coughed to hide a snicker.

The glass of the elixir bottles where almost painfully cold, and as soon as Link had taken hold of them Nabo stood so fast she shook the table.

“Approach me again, Kabo, and I will not hesitate to feed you my fist.” She said, chin turned up, and Kabo grinned as she turned to leave.

“They play hard to catch but getting a lay with a Gerudo one of the best things you can do in Hyrule.” Kabo said, and Link felt a shiver of disgust go down his back. “You really want in Gerudo Town, kid? In Kara Kara Bazaar, find Vilia. Likes to stargaze on top of Shaillu's General Store. Tell her Kabo sent you.”

Kabo raised his glass and lifted an eyebrow. “To Gerudo Town, ey kid?”

Link did not rase his water skin in reply.

---

Kara Kara Bazaar was beautiful in a simple, soft way. The sand and wind had worn down every sharp corner and line, leaving behind gentle, tan curves. The colors seemed muted, covered with a thin film of sand, but still enticing with their swirling designs and foreign lettering.

The towering palms and cool breeze blowing over the pool provided enough protection from the heat that Link saved the last half of his bottle of cool elixir. No point in being wasteful. The heat was still unpleasant, even with the breeze and the almost set sun, but with the soft sounds of the oasis’ water brushing against stone and sand, he could endure it.

The general store Kabo had recommended was larger than Link expected, requiring a tall, well cared for ladder to reach the balcony of the top floor, and atop that, the roof. With dark crawling in from the horizon Link stood at the base of the ladder, debating. Kabo seemed like a sleazy character and accepting help from him made Link feel almost dirty, but if Gerudo Town was really closed to men this was the best lead he had.

He could see a light come on behind the sheer curtains of the top floor and the shadow of someone moving up onto the roof. Link took a deep breath and began to climb.

Vilia—if that was who the woman on the roof was—sat delicately on a colorful blanket in purple and gold clothing not unlike what the Gerudo woman at the stable had been wearing; a full pleated salwar, a heavily embroidered kameez, and a veil that covered most of her face and hair while still showing off the impressive amount of jewelry she wore.

“Sorry, love, I don’t take callers this late.”

Link on his feet and fumbled with his hands for a moment before raising them. ‘I’m here because a man named Kabo recommended you? He said—’

Vilia laughed and stood, taking a moment to stretch.

“In that case…” her eyes, almond brown, bore into him before they crinkled as she smiled under the veil. “What a lovely lad you are. I suppose you need something from me?”

‘Your clothes are very beautiful.’ Link found himself blurting, and Vilia’s face lit up. ‘I need to get into Gerudo Town. Kabo said you could help.’

“Perhaps I could find it in my heart to help a little flirt like you.” She said, and bent down to her blanket, somehow managing to look delicate doing it. “I can get you some clothes that will help you pass enough to get into town. I think the style would be quite fetching on you. Be careful with them—they’re fragile. A tear could land you under arrest.”

She passed over a bundle of cloth—how often did she have men meet her up here with the same question? —and Link stared down at it in disbelief. The fabric was nothing like Vilia’s cotton; it was thin, sheer silk that he could almost see through, and unlike her salwar covered next to nothing. He’d burn to a crisp within seconds of leaving the oasis, and outside of his discomfort with putting himself on display like this, there was no way this flashy, tacky costume would fool any Gerudo with a brain bigger than a voltfruit.

‘ You’ve got to be kidding me,’ He signed, dropping the clothes in a heap on the ground. ‘If I didn’t die of heatstroke walking there I’d be arrested on the spot!’

“You said you wanted into Gerudo Town.” Vilia’s voice had suddenly lost of its cheeky teasing. “I’m giving you a way in—you’re lucking I’m not charging you.”

‘This isn’t a way in; it’s bullshit!’

“Listen,” Vilia hissed, “You voe want to force your way so badly into a woman’s space? Fine. But then you chasers deserve any consequence.”

‘I’m not ‘chasing’ anything! My—’ Link’s fingers faltered for a second. What could he even say? It’s my destiny to go tame the giant Beast roaming around in your desert so please let me do what I need to do? It sounded ridiculous. ‘My friend is sick. Very sick, and I’m the only one who can help her.’

Vilia scoffed. “The Gerudo may not be Zora but they can handle any sickness without you.”

‘ No! I just…’ Link blinked back frustrated tears, hands shaking, before jerking his sleeve back and sinking his teeth into his forearm. Vilia choked at the sight of blood and Link smacked his hand over the wound. He didn’t even feel himself dip down into Mipha’s Grace, or the pain of magic moving across the cuts. Just knew that one second the wound was there and one second it was not.

‘ Please.’ He signed. Vilia finally tore her eyes away from the congealing blood. ‘I need to. Please.’

“…Come downstairs.” Villia said after a long pause. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She lead him down off the roof, past the balcony into a beautifully furnished room, it’s colors and curves not tarnished by the film of sand that covered most things. Vilia sighed and stopped at the scratched-up mirror handing on a wall. With smooth hands she pulled out hair pulls from her veil, exposing dark red hair and a 5 ‘o’clock shadow.

“You’re too short for most of my things, but it’s worth trying.” She said, brushing out her hair with her fingers.

“Maybe something pink—or blue. Like your eyes, something to compliment them." She slid a screen back to expose a rainbow of clothes, all elegantly embroidered and beaded. Link ran a hand across the different colors. They were so much softer than the tacky costume Vilia had offered him, mostly thin, sturdy linen or cotton. Vilia brushed past him to pull out a salwar and held it up to his waist.

“A little big—if you stay the night in Kara Kara I can mend them though. Pull this on.” Link wrestled for a moment with the kameez she handed him, and Vilia smiled. “That’s much better. Cooler too. Will keep the heat away, at least a little bit. Blue or green?”

She held out two long strips of fabric, and before Link could decide, settled on the blue.

“You’d just look so good in blue.”

With practiced fingers, she showed him how to fold and drape the fabric, how to pin which pieces where, until Link looked back in the mirror at a stranger. The colors of the headscarf and veil were beautiful, with fine, delicate decorations, and with only his eyes looking back at him Link could have been anyone. Anyone at all.

“I can have the salwar hemmed by tomorrow morning if you stay the night.” Link tore his eyes away from the not-him in the mirror and nodded. “Come by sunrise. I don’t like to be left waiting, even by a pretty boy like you.”

---

Link spent the night with his feet in the oasis’ water. There was a bed at the inn waiting for him, but he couldn’t sleep. He’d spent the night here before—not just Kara Kara, but this spot, legs folded, sword unsheathed across his lap, eavesdropping—

It is a nasty habit but one he is terribly good at. When you don’t talk people seem to think you can’t listen, that being mute means you must be dumb, that even with hands hardened by hard work you are just a slow brute at the end of the day. So he becomes terribly good at eavesdropping. He can hear the Princess’ hushed voice now, soft and wobbly behind him in the home that some ecstatic inhabitant of Kara Kara donated to her Majesty and her party to sleep in tonight.

The Princess hasn’t said a word to him since the Yiga incident. Granted, she didn’t speak to him often, but at least she usually spoke to herself. Now she’s been silent anytime he’s near, and Link doesn’t blame her. Has she ever seen a dead body before? Not a monster’s body, but a person, a real once-living person. From the way her eyes lingered on the gouged body of the Yiga foot soldier that had been moments away from ripping her guts out, he doesn’t think she had. She’d stared at the warm blood hissing across the sand and stone with numb horror, looking up only when Link offered her a hand. Her own was shaking when she took his, and she didn’t let go of it until they were back in Kara Kara, Impa and Urbosa waiting totally unaware under a palm tree. Urbosa had given Link a thankful nod before turning her attention to the shellshocked Princess, and since then no one had said a word to him.

Link didn’t know if he minds or not.

The door behind him opens and a sharp inhale lets him know someone had stepped outside.

“I didn’t think you’d be out here.” Her Majesty says.

‘Where else would I be?’

“I—I don’t know. Sleeping I supposed.”

‘Keeping watch is far more important right now given what happened today, your Majesty.’

Zelda steps just inside his line of sight and sits, still obviously uncomfortable.

“I should… I should apologize. I have been cruel to you. I have spoken poorly of you—to you—and you have done nothing to warrant such actions.”

Link just nods, keeps his eyes out to the water. There is a long pause, so long he expects Zelda to go back in, but instead, she says—

“When you were young, how did you do it? How did you manage to come so far so young? And so fast, and so… so…”

‘Please tell me you don’t believe the rumor about me besting a grown man when I was four.’ Link signs and the confusion on her Majesty’s face was enough to make him groan.

‘I hate that one—out of all of then that’s the one that always gets me. Champion or not, no four-year-old can hold a proper sword, let alone fight with one.’

“But you did. And single-handedly slayed a lynel at twelve—”

Link untucked his undershirt and pulled it up, showing her a large scar, white with age, across a few ribs.

‘I was fourteen, and it beat me fair and square-- if not for Lady Mipha who knows where I'd be. I didn’t pick up a sword one day and become a master swordsman as soon as I touched it. It’s taken years of training, and I’m still learning. It’s not that easy. Nothing is.’

“No. I suppose nothing is.” Her voice is painfully soft, and Link turned closer to her.

‘They set you up for failure when they say things like that. Because if you are supposed to do it that easy then when you mess up they judge you all that more. It’s hard enough to just exist without others expecting the world of you. No one can fetch the world.’

“I know a little what that can be like,” Zelda says, and Link smiles. He doesn’t say that he knows she knows, but he does move the Master Sword off his lap and lay back to look at the stars.

“I don’t think we’ve ever spoken this long.” she says.

‘I wouldn’t mind doing it again.’

She almost smiles and nods, and for the first time since this afternoon looks a little alive again. After a moment of lingering, she leans back next to him to look at the stars.

“I studied astrology when I was a child. I would make up stories for the constellations because I thought the ones already there were boring.”

‘Most stories are already boring. They need someone to make them better.’

---

Link left with hemmed salwar on, dressed in blue cotton and linen, face hidden from the sun, last half bottle of cool elixir downed. Vilia waved him off at sunrise, and, gut tight, Link took off down the sandy path to Gerudo Town.

Chapter Text

The first think Link noticed was the orange glow of a shrine against the red of the rising sun. The next was the smell, rich and spicy, drifting in the air across the sand. The walls of Gerudo Town towered, the sounds of early morning business coming from just beyond the gate where two women stood, making light chit-chat with spears in hand and scimitars on their hips. One nodded to him when she saw him move up the path.

“Sav'otta!” She called, and Link waved. The orange light of the shrine was dimmed slightly by a film of sand that fluttered away when he brushed his fingers across the carved stone. It chirped at him when he tapped the Sheikah slate on its pedestal, pale letters flashing across the screen:

Daqo Chisay

The Gerudo guard didn’t seem to pay any mind to the shift in the color of the light peeking out through the shrine’s stone, and Link decided to leave it unsolved for now. Just a warp point was good enough for him.

The shrines were always uncomfortable to be in, reeking of musk and the spices that the Sheikah used to preserve the too thin corpses of the shrines’ monk. Even after they dissolved into the air the smell of spices lingered, sometimes clinging to Link’s clothes when he left if the shrine took long enough to solve.

Shrine activated, Link turned back to the main gates of Geurdo Town. The gates sparkled in the desert sun, gilded with colored glass and stone. They brought to mind the shining silver and luminous stones of Zora Domain, but unlike the cool stillness of Mipha’s home Gerudo Town glittered gold and turquoise, colors pulsing up out of the sand around it. The sight of it was like something Link had never seen before.

“Sav’otta, little vai.” The guard called again as he walked to the gate’s arch. Her golden eyes were stern but kind, her bright lip color visible under her thin veil.

Link smiled. Just act natural. Natural—what was natural? What said ‘hello, please don’t arrest me, I am very much a woman?’ With nervous hands, he fingerspelled her greeting back to her. She laughed, loud and booming but not unkind.

“We don’t see many Hylian vai down here anymore, not since the desert Beast started kicking up sand. I take it you don’t any Gerudo signs; you’ll look like a child finger spelling things wrong like that. Here—”

She raised a fist to her heart, opened the hand, and let her fingers trickle down. ‘Sav’otta.’

Link tried to copy. It was stiffer than hers, awkward and unsure, but the guard clapped anyways.

“Better than nothing. Be safe little vai, stay in the town walls. The desert is beautiful but untrustworthy, and with Vah Naboris shaking up sand it’s more unpredictable than usual.

‘Naboris?’

The mirth from the guard’s face dropped. “Vah Naboris, the guardian of this desert. Though I would be hard pressed to call her that now. You haven’t been in the desert long, have you?”

Link shook his head. The air had begun to smell strange, acidic and thick, and as if triggered by her very words the wind spiked up from its gentle breeze to a shrill yowl. The sand clung to the wind, stinging Link’s eyes and exposed skin. For a moment the bright midmorning sky was almost dark, light washed yellow by the swirling sands and a rumbling shook the air, right into Link’s chest. It echoed, animalistic and metallic at the same time, before dying down with the wind and the sand.

“That’s Vah Naboris.” The guard says. “She’s been creeping closer these past few days. Used to, her calls and sands only lasted a few moments a few times a day, but now… sometimes the sand she kicks up blocks out the sun for hours, and once the sun goes down you’ll be able to see her lightning from the city walls. But don’t let that bother your stay, little vai! Stay within the city walls and Vah Naboris will be of no danger to you. Understand?”

Link nodded and the guard knelt to his eye level—“ I mean it, little vai. Stay inside the walls. Be careful. These are dangerous times in Hyrule. I would be saddened to hear of another girl swallowed up these sands.”  She patted him on the head and waved him in.

“Sav'orq!”

Link copied her sign back at her, before finally turning into Gerudo Town.

Out of all the places Link had been in his small time in Hyrule, Gerudo Town took the cake as loudest, brightest, and fullest. Tellers and store owners called from buildings, shop fronts, and colorful carpets, bosting all kinds of goodies, breads, and silks. The smell of roasting meats and fried dough filled the air, mixed with incense and the happy squeals of children.

One woman showed off her slices of voltfruit and durian, while another traded rupees with a Rito for a fresh chilly skewer. A young girl shoved Link back as her and her sisters chased a stray cat, their faces and fingers red with candy berry juices. It felt strangely wrong to be looking at the city’s hustle, voyeuristic even, but the feeling was hidden under the awe and excitement as Link purchased a hot burika from an old woman, her granddaughter pouring out crepes behind her.

At the far end of the square, amid the crowds and shouting and smells, stood the palace. There was no other word to describe it than a palace. Flowers surrounded the entrance, lined on each side by water features and glass mosaics. Gerudo script spiraled across the stone, each letter lined in gold and sapphire. The wide doorway was closed off by a beaded tapestry and Link hesitated before pulling it aside. There were no guards, no locks, no rule that said to stay back, but the closed curtain was enough to give him pause.

Suddenly that foul, acidic ozone smell filled the air again. The whole crowd went silent, as if on cue, and the sun went dark as the wind picked up and caught the sand. Vah Naboris sounded different that Medo, than Ruto—it was painfully deep, reverberating in Link’s chest, but still shrill as burning sand, shrill enough to make his ears ache. By the time her call had died the square was empty, the doors and windows shut tight against the still swirling sand. Link fisted his hand in the curtain and stepped in.

He was met immediately with four spears to the throat from royal guards as he turned to the throne against the far wall. There, seated on a booster seat squeezed onto the throne and overflowing with pillows, was a child.

“Oh—just another traveler.” She said, leaning back against the arm of the throne. It dwarfed her, yet she seemed at home in it. “How did you get in here?”

‘I—there wasn’t a guard, so I suppose I just walked…?’

The girl threw her head back and laughed as if every guard in the room wasn’t on edge. Her red hair was styled simply but balanced atop her head and braided tight to her temples was a golden headpiece—Link realized that somehow this little girl, so small her attendants had added steps up to her booster seat, was the Gerudo Chief. She waved a jeweled hand and the spears lowered.

Link stepped forward, hands raised to begin explaining his situation and relation to Vah Naboris when the largest woman in the room, a hulking guard that stood close to the Chief’s side, slammed down the point of her blade.

“You stand before Chief Riju the Gerudo. Declare your business but come no closer.”

“Calm yourself, Buliara. Our ‘common traveler’ has something quite interesting there.” She gestured to the Sheikah slate on his hip. “What’s your name, Sheikah?”

‘Link, ma’am.’

“That’s no Sheikah name.” Riju’s guard said.

‘I’m not Sheikah. The slate was a … gift.’

“What does it matter what a name is or isn’t.” Riju said. “Link—you’re not from this desert. It’s easy to tell; so what have you come all this way for with such a gift?”

Link took a deep breath. ‘I can calm Divine Beast Vah Naboris.’

Riju raised an elegant eyebrow. Outside the wind had stopped, plunging the room into perfect silence. Link hadn’t realized just how loud the wind had been till it was gone.

“You think you have such strength as to wrangle a Divine Beast?” she asked.

‘Not wrangle. Calm. I can bring her peace and help her settle into the protector she was—is.’

Riju perked up at that.

“You speak boldly. The only ones able to control the Beast were Lady Urbosa and her fellow Champions.”

“How arrogant one must be to think she can wander across these sands into your throne room and declare she holds the same power as a Champion.” Buliara’s face was as stony as her words. “It’s a disrespect to their name and their sacrifice a century ago.”

“You know, Buliara, Mother spoke often of those Champions—I recall her once speaking of how the Sheikah locked away a Hylian Champion in a great slumber under the orders of the Princess of Hyrule. That Champion, like our new friend here, was named Link. He carried with himself a Sheikah artifact like that slate this girl bares. Though, when Mother spoke it always seemed more legend than fact.”

Suddenly, Riju stopped.

“Leave us.” She said to the other guards, and with some reluctance they moved aside. Buliara narrowed her eyes, stepping closer to her Chief, but said nothing.

“I can’t imagine the Sheikah would give such an artifact to a drifter. So, either a thief comes before me or a friend of the Sheikah…… I don’t recall a Hylian vai Champion—I don’t recall the Link my Mother spoke of being a vai at all. You are not a vai, are you, Link?”

Dread began to build in Link’s stomach. Riju’s guard lifted her claymore, sidestepping in front of her Chief, weapon held with a terrifying grace as if it weren’t nearly as long as she was. Oh Goddesses, she was going to skewer him, wasn’t she? Link took a shaky step back.

“Calm yourself, Buliara.” Riju said. Buliara did not move.

“A voe inside our walls is a great crime—but a voe who is a Champion… Chief Neikana made a royal exception for the three voe Champions in the past.”

“My Chief, that was a different time.” Buliara’s eyes were even more terrifying than that of a lynel Link decided. They bore into him like fire on tar. “Facing a great threat like the Calamity—”

“Do we not face our own great threat now, Buliara? Stand down.” Finally, her guard drew back her claymore. “I would never mistreat a friend of Lady Urbosa. If you are here to aid us in taming Naboris then we are allies and should treat each other as such. You may remain in my city walls, but not without understanding the gravity of this pardon.”

Link bowed his head. ‘I cannot thank you enough, Chief Riju.’

Riju sighed. “Then I suppose you’ve seen her—or heard her. Divine Beast Vah Naboris, cloaked in a massive sandstorm, hurling lightning at whoever dare approach. Each day she grows closer to Gerudo Town. Soon I fear she will swallow my city in sand and blast my people apart with her lightning. She must be stopped, but my soldiers have been unable to do any good against her. If you are a Champion, then perhaps you will be able to enter Vah Naboris and calm her anger.”

“Chief Riju, I do not believe it is wise to entrust such a task to a stranger.”

“Buliara, if you continue to be hostile to our guest, I will dismiss you.” Riju’s voice was soft but firm.

“I simply mean, perhaps he should prove himself worthy of such an honor first.”

“An… interesting suggestion. Perhaps.... ” She trailed off and met Bularia's eyes, looking surprisingly unsure, until her guard nodded. Riju slid off her throne, hopping down its three makeshift steps before turning to face a tall, golden pedestal beside the throne. A simply carved bust of a Gerudo woman sat atop it. Its face was smooth but not blank, with a stare that seemed almost alive. Riju ran soft fingers across the woman’s cheek.

“There is nothing more beautiful in the world than a desert thunderstorm. All you have seen of it now is Vah Naboris’ fury, but when a true thunderstorm comes it brings with it warm, blessed rain and the smell of new life. The sky turns pink and green, and the lightning is like streaks of gold against the horizon. For as long as the Gerudo have dwelled in this desert, the thunderstorms have looked after us. When our ancestors reach out to us, it is through the electricity the storms bring.

Our ancestors, in their great wisdom, created for us a means to honor their lightning storms and protect our civilization—the Thunder Helm. This heirloom, powered by the good fortune of our ancestors and dedicated to the protection of the Gerudo tribe, is the only thing strong enough to withstand Vah Naboris’ lightning. But…”

“But it has been stolen.” Buliara said when Riju’s words waivered. “The Yiga Clan struck three nights ago and took our relic with them. But, if you are truly as great as Champion as Chief Riju seems to believe you are, then returning it will be of no issue to you.”

Riju turned face to face with Link. Well, chest to face. Link was so used to staring up at the Gerudo, but Riju was tiny compared to him, her regal features still round with childhood fat and golden eyes almost too big for her face.

“This is not a matter to be taken lightly, Link. In giving you this task I am putting my upmost trust in you.”

‘You will not regret that decision, Chief Riju.’

For the first time Riju truly smiled. It suited her, bright yet almost devilish. It reminded him painfully of Urbosa’s same bared, wolfish teeth. “We are allies—Riju will do. I take heart in having such a rare visitor like you. Lady Urbosa must be looking out for us. Let us do her proud.”

---

“Have you ever rode a sand seal?” Riju asked as Link tightened the straps of his shield around his feet. He shook his head. She’d led him to the private most exit of the palace she could allow, a doorway disguised by saflinna and cacti as it looked out to the Gerudo Highlands.

“It’s easy enough, but take it slow. Avoid dunes and such, I’d hate for you to break your leg because you decided to surf down a lizalfo’s hiding place. They like the big ones.”

Link readjusted the cowl on his face. Paya’s Sheikah garb had proved to be surprisingly breathable in the heat, and combined with his last chilly elixir he felt confident he could find the Yiga Hideout without passing out from heatstroke on the way.

“I still don’t see the point of changing—you’re just going to get me caught harboring a criminal.” Riju said, but her tone was light.

‘I don’t think I can move right in all that fabric. And from what I’ve seen of the Yiga, surprise might be the best option.’

 “So you’ve dealt with them before then?” Riju’s eyes hardened. “If I could smear every one of those foul excuses for Sheikah off this map, if I could round them up and leave them to burn and crisp up in this desert sun, ancestors help me I would.” She spat on the sand.

‘They’ve been following me.’ Link signed. Despite it being the obvious truth, saying it out loud made it seem more real, more concrete. More terrifying.

Was it pathetic of him to be frightened of them? He could take on an average person, he knew he could, but the thought of a cold unfeeling mask, the rancid smell of magic—the numbness in his muscles as he ran through the dark, tongue coated in some too sweet drug—

Riju nudged him, eyebrow raised. Had he been staring off?

‘They—you know, folks don’t take kindly to you trying to vanquish their pig master.’ He signed, forcing a smile. Riju seemed to notice something off and placed a tiny hand on his arm.

“You’ve come far. A few entitled Sheikah are but a bump in your road. Now!” She stood and wiped the sand from her skirt. “Link! Return victorious. I shall wait for you.”

Link nodded, after one final tug on his straps, flicked the reins of the sand seal. It yanked him to his feet, launching him off balance, and before he’d even gone a 100 yards he’d tumbled down a dune, leaving him tangled up in his reins. Riju laughed, and with the sun in her hair she looked almost painfully like Urbosa. Link huffed and pulled himself up.

“Best of luck, Champion.”

It only took three falls for Link to be confident he could handle the seal well enough, and only 30 minutes in the blinding heat to reach the shades of Karusa Valley’s cliffs. He could smell the Yiga Clan’s hideout before he saw it; it reeked of magic, so thick it was beginning to give him a headache.

Sand drifted down from the cliff edges as a hot wind whistled through the valley. Link knelt down and untied the straps on his shield before looping the reins across a stone outcropping.

‘Stay.’

The sand seal tilted its head and Link sighed. He ruffled its fur.

‘We’ll get through this lil guy.’

He recognized the little statues half-buried in the sand that littler the valley. He’d seen Paya tending to them—he thought she mentioned them being guardian spirits?— but these were worn, broken… red. Red seemed to touch everything, from the stone to the sand. The sand. Link scrambled back from the statue in front of him in horror. The sand behind it was crusted and strained a dark, deep red, baked almost black by the desert sun. Crumpled in the sand, eyes wide and glossy, were five Gerudo guards. The Yiga had stuffed their wounds with spell paper and while Link didn’t understand the Sheikah letters scrawled in red across any exposed skin he didn’t doubt they were vulgar and mocking.

Oh Hylia above… He hadn’t been the first one Riju sent after the Thunder Helm. Link wasn’t sure if these women were the only ones sent, but he didn’t doubt that however many there were, none of them had made it back.

Link took a steadying breath before moving forward. Carefully he untangled a guard and picked her up. One by one he carried them out of the sun into the shade of the cliffs. It would take up too much precious daylight that he didn’t have to bury them, but at least this was something.

A century ago Link would have said a prayer. He didn’t think he even knew how to pray now. Still, he wiped their faces clean of blood and cover it with what little was left of their veils and headscarves.

‘May your ancestors watch over you’, he thought, lips barely moving with the word, before standing. He wouldn’t let the Yiga take any more innocent lives ever again. He’d be sure of it.

The sand under his feet suddenly switched to hot stone as he moved deeper into the valley. He knelt and wiped away a patch of sand and reveled a stone slab, Sheikah symbols etched into it around an upside-down eye. Below its bloody teardrop was a series of sliding chips with letters scrawled on them—obviously some kind of puzzle password. Fuck. Link could barely write Hylian, let alone Sheikah. Still, something about the eye seemed to resemble the pedestals and guidance stones Link saw nearly every day, and, just in case, he unhooked the Sheikah slate from his hip and pressed it to the eye’s center.

There was a soft chirp as the eye glowed red and slid open, sending him pitching forwards and landing stomach first on the floor of a dim room with a painfully high ceiling. The stone above him slide closed, plunging him into darkness.

Slowly he pulled himself up off his front, ribs sore but not broken. The dusting of sand across the whole room must have broken his fall. Link fumbled in the dark for his Sheikah slate and flicked it on as soon as his hand brushed across it, filling the room with pale blue light.

The room was near empty with a circle of torches in the center of the room. Link pulled out a fire arrow, poking it through the oil-soaked rags in the torches. They went up in an instant, sending up pungent smoke that left Link coughing under his cowl.

The room resembled more of a cave than a room, rough-cut dark stone and the skittering of rats and keese along walls, but it was blessedly cool and removed from the desert sun. Something scuttled over Link’s foot, it’s shape lost in the dark, but big enough to send a shiver down his spine. Long strips of linen painted with eyes hung throughout the room, and after a bit of peeking around Link found a stairway behind one.

Between the sand underfoot and the Sheikah armor, Link’s footsteps were near-silent—but not as silent as the Yiga blademaster that stood near the exit of the stairway. He didn’t seem to have noticed Link, focused instead on polishing his sword—monster of a sword, holy shit—with something that looked disturbingly like a Gerudo hair veil. Link grit his teeth. Bastard. He sidled past him, back pressed hard against the stone wall, and held his breath till he turned a corner and the blademaster was out of sight. The blademaster didn’t twitch, didn’t make any sign that he might have sensed Link, so with very careful steps Link moved further into the hideout.

Link wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when he dropped down the hideout’s entrance, but it wasn’t the sheer/ number of guards patrolling the maze of walls that Link could see from his corner. There was no way he could sneak past all of them. He continued to hug the wall, feet sliding across the sand until a flash of yellow wood caught his eye. It was an intricate maze of rafters, red lettering, likely spells, painted on the underside. But the edges were open and seemed a possibility.

Link moved up the stone wall, just rough enough to allow footholds and handholds, and managed to hoist himself up just in time for a blademaster to come turning around the corner, likely searching for the source of the sound of Link’s movements—hell, maybe even his breath.

The rafters creaked beneath him and Link held his breath as he waited to see if the wood would hold his weight. It groaned a little but held, and Link shuffled on his stomach down the wooden path. Splinters and dust clung to the sleeves of the Sheikah armor, pricking his forearms through the thin fabric. Link hissed as he pulled out a particularly large splinter, the end of it pink with blood. Still, Link kept moving. The Thunder Helm—he needed it, needed it if he wanted to get into that Beast and pull Urbosa out of it.

The rafters zigzagged beneath the rough stone ceiling, but it was easy enough to see the room below. Link moved out past one door, another, another, until soft murmuring came from a side area branching off the main walkway. Link paused before deciding to head that way.

The room was small and smoky, the cooking pot in the center hissing as batter coating bananas floated in boiling oil. Twelve Yiga in different state of dress lounged around it, a few passing around a pipe.

“I honestly don’t understand why you’re being so bitter about this. So, you missed a heist! There’ll be more.” One man said, voice heavy with smoke.

“She’s being pissy because the boss is still mad at her—”

“No he is not!” one woman hissed and Link froze at the familiar voice. It was sharp at the edges from a heavy Sheikah accent but still undeniably Ere’s. Link shifted to see where the voice was coming from. Looking at her now made it clear just how false the Hylian face she had been wearing was; her tanned skin and sharp features looked far more natural on her than whatever glamour she and her brothers had been using on the mountain. She twisted a white braid around her finger. “If there’s anyone he should mad at about the last little slip up it should be Dorian.”

One man groaned and spat into the sand at his feet.

“Danj that’s disgusting.”

“Fuck you.”

“When’s the last time you paid our old friend a visit?” One Yiga asked. Ere hmmed.

“Three months? Too long apparently—his information has become pathetically sparse. I should visit soon, once this whole Gerudo mess is sorted out.” She grinned. “Nothing is sweeter than the look on his face when you tell him just how much his little girls look like their poor mommy.”

The room echoed with laughs and one Yiga passed the pipe to her.

 “It’s not a hard fucking job.” One man said. “Keep an eye on the old Sheikah bitch and keep up updates while the obnoxious little kid runs around with that toy of his. It’s not like Kakariko is exactly a damn warzone. Dorian’s not worth the effort if you ask me.”

“Good thing nobody did!”

Kakariko? A Yiga in Kakariko? Link nearly choked on smoke as he put a name to the face—Dorian, one of Impa’s main guards, Dorian, with his sweet little girls, Dorian, who had warned him about the Yiga in the first place—

Link bit his lip hard, swallowing his anger. When this Vah Naboris situation was solved and Urbosa was out of harms away then perhaps a trip back to Kakariko would be smart. Not perhaps—he was going to find Dorian and drag him out in front of Impa. Make him regret ever putting all those people in danger.

Link scooted forwards and the board underneath him let out a loud grown and a shower of sawdust into the room below.

“What the fuck?” One woman said. Link’s breath caught in his throat.

“Probably just rats again.” Ere said. “It’s about that time of year. They’re fucking all over the place.” Another Yiga grunted in reply and the attention turned away from Link. With a shuddery, silent breath he moved forwards and out above the doorway.

The doorway led to a dead end. It was a well-furnished dead end, cots and bunks pushed against the walls, some made with relative care and others stripped down, their blankets abandoned to the side. Phrenic bows and various weaponry sat stashed on bedside tables or under beds. And, sitting in the dust as if it was simply old trash, was a golden headdress. It had to be the Thunder Helm. Carefully, Link slid off the edge of the wooden rafter and onto the sandy ground. The Thunder Helm was surprisingly heavy in his hands and just touching the metal sent ripples of static up his spine. The hairs on his arms rose. Under the smell of magic and smoke, the metal reeked of ozone.

Link shivered. He had the sudden urge to slip it on over his head, but something—someone?—told him it would be unwise to do so without Riju’s permission. Link slid the Helm into his pack and was just about to turn to find a way back when he noticed the barest breeze of hot air coming from the back wall. He ran his fingers over the wall and his fingertips caught on a crack, just big enough to slide his fingers into. It seemed solid metal, which meant with a quick flick of his slate the wall was sideways and a new exit was open. Perfect. He hefted his pack further upon his shoulder and stepped out of the makeshift doorway.

It was barren outside, the only sound being the hot wind. In the center was a gaping pit, sand slowly drifting down it.

Link stepped forward. What even was that? A fire pit maybe? It stretched on far too deep for that…

“Which one of you brats thought you could come in here and interrupt me?”

Link spun—a man had appeared in the split second his back was turned, tall with both broad shoulders and a broad waist. Link’s eyes rose up to the gilded eye on his mask, painted with a savage elegance different from every other Yiga costume he’d seen. Magic wafted off him like wet smoke.

“Wait a minute—that’s a lovely Sheikah slate you’ve got there, young man.” The man took a step towards Link. Link slid down into a stronger stance. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight, but he could take down one person if he had to. Better this guy than all those Yiga back inside. He drew his sword. The man laughed. It was an ugly, smug sound, and with a tilt of his head the red film of magic already building in the courtyard solidified behind him into a round rock the size of a man. Gagged shards of metal jutted out of every inch, and Link barely had time to take it in before it slammed forward into him and dragged him back into the back wall.

Link’s ears rang as his eyes struggled to refocus. He could feel blood, hot and wet, dripping down the back of his head onto his neck, and his arm. It was hard to hear, to think, to focus on anything over the pulsing, sheering pain in his right arm as the rock pinned it to the wall, and the sight of white-pink bone couldn’t hold a candle to the sheer terror Link felt as he recognized the shards of metal skewering his arm, bits of bloody metal sunk deep into and ripping out his skin. Breathing was suddenly hard as he watched the blood pool below his fingers and soak into his trousers. His arm. It was in his arm.

“What luck!” Link jerked back to the surface. His free arm flew to his side for his Sheikah slate, but it was gone. It had been knocked free in the blow and Link watched in horror as the man bent down to pick it up where it fell.

“My scouts are out in the field looking high and low for you and then you just come and wander into my hideout all by yourself. But I forget my manners. I never took the time to introduce myself.” Somehow, Link could perfectly picture the cocky grin behind the mask. “I am, of course, the leader of the Yiga Clan: the strong, the burly, the one, the only… Master Kohga.”

Kohga dipped into a deep, mocking bow. “I’d say hold your applause but it doesn’t appear as though you have the option. Just sit pretty there for a moment—I’ve been dying to get my hands on one of these. I’ll crush your head in after.” He flicked open the slate. “This week as been all forms of productive. First the Thunder Helm, now you! Ideally, I had hoped to be in Vah Naboris the same day we got our hands on that ugly gold thing, but’s it’s proved to have a rather steep learning curve.” The slate chirped as Kohga opened its camera settings. He angled it towards Link.

“Say cheese, Champion! Or is that still too much talking for you?” Link spat at him.

“But we’ll figure it out soon enough, and then we’ll rip that Beast into so many pieces that no ally of the Goddess could ever get it working against Dark Lord Ganon. Not that you’ll care much, saying as how you’ll be a bloody mush at the bottom of that pit.”

Link began to notice something outside the screaming pain in his arm and Kohga’s words; a heat, steadily growing stronger until it was near painful, from inside his bag, pinned between his bloody arm and the wall.

“Of course, before we rip the guts out of Naboris I think stamping out what’s left of that filthy little town will be fun. Leave the next idiots who come down to Gerudo Town to find the burnt-out shell. Disgusting.”

The heat had begun to sizzle through the leather of the bag, and the smell of ozone began to leak out as it vibrated more and more against him.

“And I think saving that tiny Chief of theirs for last to watch her people fry under her grandmother’s Beast will make up for every generation the Gerudo have chosen to turn their back on their Lord’s lineage. I can imagine her ugly little neck—”

Then Link’s arm exploded. That was his first thought, that his arm was fucking gone, but instead, the Thunder Helm, reeking of electricity and so hot it had managed to burn through the thin leather, hissed out a circle of green-blue light, forcing Kohga off his feet and riping the rock to pieces. Riju had called the Helm a protector, but Link had assumed it was some fancy way of saying heirloom. But this…

“Fuck! You brat!” Kohga pushed himself up off the ground. “Would it kill you to just sit and let me do my damn job? We’ve all got roles to play, yours just happens to include me beating you to a pulp.” Link rammed him, ripping the Sheikah slate from his hands, but Kohga grabbed hold of his mutilated arm and pulled. Link screamed and, at a loss for a better solution, sunk his teeth into Kohga’s arm till he tasted blood. Kohga swore and shoved him off him.

“I hate children so much.” Kohga muttered. Link stood on wobbly legs, torn on grabbing the Thunder Helm, running, or fighting for the Sheikah slate. Kohga made the choice for him by wrestling him down to the ground and yanking him towards the pit in the center of the courtyard. Link couldn’t make out what he was saying over the panicked blood rushing in his ears, just knew with total certainty that this man was going to throw him to his death. So, without thinking, Link threw first. Threw all of his weight behind one shove and sent Yohga sprawling over the lip of the pit before he could even realize what he was doing. The metal door behind him slammed open and Link turned over his shoulder to see a dozen faces, masked and unmasked, watching him with wide, disbelieving eyes as their leader tumbled down.

Fuck.

Link scrambled for the Thunder Helm, the nerves in his hand screaming as he touched the red hot metal with his bare palm, and flicked open the Sheikah slate. He could hear yelling, feel cruel hands pulling on him—

When the neon blue light of shrine transportation faded Link was barely aware of what shine he was in, just that everything hurt. But at least, clenched in one red, blistered hand, was Riju’s Helm.

Chapter Text

Link could barely see. Pain left white spots across his vision and kept him from taking deep breaths. He could remember pain like this only once, when he fractured his skull in Vah Ruta, and even that memory of the crunch of bone in his ears seemed faded as his arm gushed blood onto the shrine floor.

That wasn’t true. He could almost remember pain like this once before, a hazy memory forced back by a hundred years of healing. Hands on him, dragging him across wet stone and hoisting him up into something cold and black and blue. Bloody foam in his mouth, squeezing through his teeth and dripping down his throat as his vision spun with white—

Link pushed the memory back along with the urge to vomit. Slowly he peeled the shredded soaked fabric of his Sheikah armor from his arm. Sorry Paya. He’d have to thank her for her gift when he returned to Kakariko. It served him well.

His bare arm was horrifying to see. Crushed into an unrecognizable shape with bone peeking through gashes, the skin was nearly black with blood bruises and burst blood vessels, and blood poured down from gaping holes large enough to stick his finger into. With a shuddering breath Link laid his hand on the discolored flesh and lit his hand up blue.

It was as if invisible hands had sunk their fingers into every hole in his arm and pulled, twisting and tugged gapping flesh and grabbed hold of his crumbled bone, yanking it down and grinding the pieces together. Link forced his free hand into his mouth, biting down on the fist hard enough to draw blood, and what little vision he had swirled with tears. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t, this damn grace was going to kill him, was going to—

The pain slowly subsided and Link opened his eyes. His arm was still black and blue but the bone was straight and the holes were gone. He stretched his arm. It ached but was bearable. Link ran a hand threw his hair.

He’d killed a man today. He’d never done that before.

Link fought back guilty tears. He shouldn’t be feeling guilty for this. He shouldn’t have a knot in his stomach, shouldn’t, shouldn’t…

Link stood and checked his Sheikah slate. Daqo Chisay. At least he has some luck left. With careful, painful movements Link forced himself into his Geurdo garb as best he could and forced himself out into the sun, holding his arm close to his chest and cradling his burnt hand. He could use Mipha’s grace on it but at this point he was just tired of pain.

He didn’t make eye contact with anyone as he walked through the front gates of Geurdo down, just moved to the palace with slow but determined steps. His head still swam; he probably had a concussion of some kind.

The guards let him pass with little question, and before Riju could even great him he had the Thunder Helm in hand and held it out for her. He didn’t want it on him anymore.

“I’m impressed.” Riju said, tenderly taking hold of the Helm. “You’ve done well.”

Link just nodded. Her eyes narrowed.

“Something’s wrong with your hand.” She said. Link looked down to his right hand, still covered in visible burn blisters. His arm hurt too much to even sign he was fine.

“Leave us.” Riju said to her guards, and with a muted nod they filed out.

“Let me see your hand.”

Link took a hesitant step back.

“Link, I’m asking as a friend.”

Were they friends? She had called Link an ally but nothing more. Riju extended her hand. “Please?”

Link raised his hand, trying to ignore the pain in his arm at the movement, and Riju inhaled sharply as she pushed the blue fabric back.

“I’m sorry. I had no intent to harm you like this.”

‘It was the Yiga, not you.’

“I sent you there. As Chief, your pain is my pain.” She ran gentle fingers across the black skin and Link shuddered. “Here, come with me. But you can’t mention I’m taking you here.” She pressed a finger to her lips and gave a small smile.

Link let her lead him down the winding corridors into a gilded, locked door. Riju opened it and exposed a courtyard. The ceiling was glass, letting in light but keeping out sand, and in the center was a beautiful fountain, snakes spitting water around a tall woman in robes of stone carved so thin light shone through like fabric.

The most impressive though was the tapestries across every wall. Each one held a woman embroidered with obvious care, and in the center of the back wall hung the largest tapestry. Two women stood in it— Link didn’t know who the first one was, but the second was undoubtedly Urbosa. The detail of her features showing just how lovingly each stitch had been placed.

“That’s Lady Urbosa—but I suppose you knew that.” Riju said. Her voice carried a wistfulness to it that surprised Link. “These are our ancestors. The watch over us with the Goddess of Sand and protect us and our desert.” She pointed to one woman. “Nabooru, one of the historic seven sages.” She went through each tapestry, explaining each woman as Link sat on the edge of the fountain.

“They were my grandmothers.” She said, pointing towards Urbosa’s tapestry. “Chief Neikana and her general, Lady Urbosa. When the Calamity came and Lady Urbosa fell the Yiga took advantage of our vulnerability and attacked. Chief Neikana took the place of general and pushed them back. Without her guidance who knows what would have become of us. It must have been a sight to see—her hair flaming behind her as the lead an army on a sand seal, newly pregnant and determined. She fell to the leader of the Yiga just a month after giving birth to my mother. I like to think she and Lady Urbosa have been able to watch over the Gerudo together in the Sacred Realm instead of forced apart eternally by the Calamity…" She sighed. "Let my see your arm. The Sand Goddess has blessed the aquafer bellow us. The water is good for pain.”

She moved to sit beside him and rolled up his sleeve before spooning water onto his black skin. It tingled, like pins and needles but somehow pleasant, and as she poured the water over him Link watched in awe as his skin lightened to purple.

‘I killed a man today.’ He blurted, pulling his hand back. ‘I didn’t mean to, but I still did. I’ve never killed anyone before. Monsters yes, but never people.’

“Who was it?”

‘Kohga. The leader of the Yiga.’

“You did a good deed then, Link. He deserved it.”

Link bit his lip and let her go back to pouring water on his lightening arm.

“Do you remember Urbosa?”

Link shrugged.

“I guess I just… I wanted to know some of what she was like. I feel like all the stories here glorify her so much. I just want to know what she was like as a person.”

She pulled the Thunder Helm up into her lap. Link hadn’t realized she’d even taken it with her.

“She was charged with the protection of the Thunder Helm. Supposedly it worked for her in a way that it hadn’t for any Chief for generations. Sometimes I get scared that it won’t even work for me… I am, as you no doubt have noticed, still but a child. My people look to me with nothing but warmth in their eyes, but even that brings me some pain. I’ve tried so hard to be worthy of their love, to be a worthy Chief… and to prove to myself that I am worthy, I suppose. When the Thunder Helm was stolen, I felt as if a shadow had fallen over me. I was a failure, unable to protect even one heirloom. But you coming here—I feel as if Lady Urbosa herself has sent you.”

Riju slid on the Helm and turned to look to him. “Well? What do you think?”

Link blinked. Looking at Riju made something in him twist and ache. He could feel her awkward smile under the gold, so different from a confident, wolfish grin. That grin looking back at him over Urbosa’s shoulder as Vah Naboris' legs shuddered beneath them.

“You certainly got here fast.” Urbosa’s voice is teasing but quiet, each syllable soft as to not wake the sleeping princess in her lap. Zelda has been giving him the run around all day, dipping between Gerudo Town and Kara Kara with Impa in tow to avoid him. Chief Neikana has promised to decree a royal exception for the voe Champions, but mostly Link just wants the princess to stay in one spot for once. “I should have expected as much from the princess’ own appointed knight.”

It had been a pain getting atop Vah Naboris with her legs extended to the sky, but Link considers himself a fine enough climber and the high drop didn’t bother him much.

As if she can hear him mentioned Zelda’s face creases, her disdain for him reaching even her dreams. He is being petty, Link reminds himself, and watches as Urbosa smooths her brow with a gentle thumb. Zelda sighs and snuggles closer to her side.

‘She was out on a survey all day today.’ Link signs and Urbosa nods.

“I figured as much. Still as the sands now. So—spill it. Have the two of you been getting along all right?” She snickers at the discomfort on Link’s face. “Oh, don’t worry, she’s told me all about her opinions of you.”

Link finds himself flushing at that.

“Don’t take it is an insult, boy. Just an observation.”

Link debates moving forward beside her but the idea of the princess waking up to him sitting just inches from him makes him uncomfortable. She’d hate that, and any progress he’s tried to make between the two of them will be gone.

Urbosa seems to notice his thought. “Sit.”

Link tries to keep the discomfort off his face as he sits on the farthest edge of the blanket Urbosa and the princess lounge on.

“Do you smell that?” She says. Link shakes his head. “Breathe deep, close your eyes.”

Feeling rather silly, Link closes his eyes. After a moment a cool night breeze brushes over them, carrying with it the dusty smell of sand and, someone under it, a rich acidic smell. He can’t place it, but it clings to him all the same.

“A thunderstorm is coming.” Urbosa said. “There is nothing quite as breathtaking as a desert storm. I assume you haven’t seen one before. The princess always makes a point to visit during the rainy season, if you can call it that. She loves the lightning shows.”

‘You knew her before Vah Naboris?’

Urbosa laughs. It is surprisingly gentle. With a soft sigh, she brushes a strand of hair from Zelda’s face. “I’ve known her Majesty since before she could crawl… You know, she gets frustrated every time she turns and sees that sword on your back. It makes her feel like a failure when it comes to her own destiny.”

She must have heard his sharp inhale as she looks up from Zelda’s sleeping face towards him. “Don’t feel guilty. It’s not like you carry blame in any of this. It’s unfortunate. She’s put in more than enough time. Ever since she was a young girl, she’s gone through rigorous daily routines to show her dedication. She once passed out in the freezing waters of the Spring of Power trying to access this ‘sealing power’. If I hadn’t been there, I worry she might have drowned. She was sick for days afterward. All this work, yet she has nothing to show for it. But I know she’s not the failure she seems to think she is. I think you know that too. She really is… quite special.”

Link looks up as rain began to pelt the stone roof of Naboris.

“You be sure to protect her with your life. It’s quite the honor... but the night brings a chill. It should be time to take her in.”

Link stands, ready to wait for Urbosa to gently wake the princess and lead the three of them upstairs, but instead, she snaps her fingers together. The roll of thunder is deafening as lightning lights up the whole sky, seemingly enough to rock Naboris about, and Zelda bolts up. She rolls off Urbosa, eyes cloudy with sleep as she babbles about something with a sleep drugged tongue, and Urbosa laughs so loud it seems to echo in Link’s chest for the rest of the night.

“Are you alright?”

Link blinked and looked down at his good shoulder where Riju had laid a gentle hand. “You were just staring into space.”

‘You look good.’ Link sighed. ‘The Thunder Helm. You look good. It suits you.’

Riju smiled. Link decided he really could see Urbosa’s own grin in it.

“I’m concerned to leave Vah Naboris roaming any longer. I wish I could give you more time to heal but I am unsure if that is an option. As Chief, and as a Gerudo, it is my duty to protect my desert. I intend to head out to great her as soon as the sun sets and the heat leaves the sands. Will you join me?”

Link threaded his fingers with hers as he stood and pulled her to her feet. He nodded.

“Who would have thought that just before such a momentous battle hearing a simple, confident pledge of support from you would be all it took to put me at ease? I have a few final duties to fulfill before I leave; meet me at the southern lookout tower.” She stopped as she moved to leave and turned back to face him.

“You really think the Thunder Helm isn’t too big on me?”

---

Link could see fine flashes of white lightning far off in the distance from the top of the southern lookout tower. He’d purchased a high-quality chilly elixir on his way out of Gerudo Town and downed it right after a fairy tonic for his arm, and it kept the lingering heat coming up off the sands at bay. He’d left his Gerudo garb behind and left it stashed in the building below—there was just too much fabric to fight well in, and the familiar weight of the Champion’s tunic on his shoulders was refreshing. He looked down past his dangling feet to the sands at the sound of a sharp whistle. It was Riju, Thunder Helm slid over her face, holding the reins of two sand seals.

“Come on down here!” She called. Link gave a little wave before jumping off the watchtower, landing on bent, braced legs in front of her. Link could feel her rolling her eyes. “Show off.”

He smiled.

“Well then, so that’s what you really look like… huh…” Link realized this was her first time seeing his face not covered by some kind of cloth. He flushed, suddenly self-conscious.

‘Bad?’

“No! I just don’t see many voe’s faces, you could say. It’s nice, I suppose.” Another pear of lightning flashed across the horizon. Riju clicked her tongue. “What a sight. If we want to get close enough to enter sand seals are our best option. I need you to understand that just one hit from Naboris’ lighting would likely be fatal. Are you ready for this?”

Link nodded, taking one of the reins from her.

“Good. I’ll take the lead. Here are some Gerudo bomb arrows. When we get close enough to see her feet, begin firing at them. Naboris draws energy from the sand—if you damage them enough, I’m sure we can stop her for a few moments. The Thunder Helm can repel Vah Naboris’ lighting; just stay close and you’ll be fine. Come on!” She flicked her reins with significantly more grace than his own and took off speeding, Link surfing clumsily down after.

“You’ve gotten better since last time!” She called over the wind, “Eating far less sand!”

Link flipped her a rude sign and Riju laughed, hair glowing in the sunset, red as blood and fierce as fire, and turned her head to say something. Instead, the sky went yellow black as sand swallowed them. The metallic bleating of Vah Naboris shook through the sky into the ground with such force that it knocked Riju off her feet. Link jerked to a stop and ran to her side, but she held out a hand.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Riju hoisted herself up. “I hadn’t realized she’d gotten so close. Then we best get started.”

Naboris bleated again, and soon visibility was all but lost under the howling of the wind. Link covered his mouth and nose with his hand, trying his best to keep the sand out. It burned horribly, scrapping against his bare cheeks into his eyes. Riju’s shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath, the sound of it swallowed up by the wind.

“Stand back. I need room.” Riju readjusted the Helm on her head and raised her hands skyward. A strike of lightning illuminated her silhouette against the sand.

“I am Riju, descendant of the royal line and leader of the Gerudo people. With the power of the heirloom gifted to my family, I shall calm Divine Beast Vah Naboris. Ancestors of the Gerudo, hear my call. Grant me your protection and aid me in this task!”

A sudden hiss, like water on hot coals or sparks moving through a current, cut through the screaming wind and the stench of ozone was so strong Link could taste it. The air around him seemed to vibrate, growing hotter and hotter until his eyes watered and he couldn’t breathe. In an instant, the sand around him was still and silent. Soft light pulsed from Riju’s skin and Link stared in awe at the sand storm that raged before them but seemed unable to touch them. His hair didn’t even drift in the screaming winds. Riju laughed, a soft giggle hidden into her hands.

“It worked. I can feel the power of generations coursing through me! Alright—let’s move.” She flicked her reins again and they were off. It was bizarre, seeing the sandstorm around him but not feeing a single grain of sand on his face. Like he was watching the wall behind thick glass. A sudden bolt of lightning struck just meters away, blowing up chunks of stone, sand, and now fried lizalfos, but Riju just kept them pushing forward. Her skin sparkled, ethereal and ghostly.

“Over here!” She jerked her head to the side and Vah Naboris seemed to materialize around them, in each direction. Link could barely see an inch in front of his face— how did she see the Beast coming? “Stay close to me, I’m going to bring us in closer.”

Link drew an arrow. Breathe in, out, let the fletching rush by—

“That’s the way!” Riju let out a whoop as stone exploded in front of them, the struck hoof cracking and sparking. Another bought of lighting slammed down in from of them, and Riju weaved around it as if it had been nothing but a stone in the sand. Link could smell electricity dripping off her like sweat. He drew another arrow. Another. And with one final release of a bowstring, Vah Nabois collapsed before them.

Riju slid to a stop, breathing heavily. She pulled the Helm off her head, brown cheeks flushed, and grinned.

“Well, if I had known it would be that easy, I would have just snuck out here and done it myself! I jest. Are you alright?”

Link nodded. She walked to his and turned over his burnt palm. “Unfortunately, I cannot appease Naboris on my own. I would ask to come with you but—but we both know that is not my place. I have no choice but to entrust the rest to you. Be careful. I’d hate to lose a friend before I had the chance to make one.” Link met her eye. How old was she? 11? 13?

“Lady Urbosa, please grant Link your protection.” She whispered before letting go of his hand. “Naboris is rising again. Hurry, before you’re stuck down in the sands with me.”

Link turned sliding in the sand. She yelled something to him as he hoisted himself up into Vah Naboris, but it was lost to the desert wind.

Chapter Text

Out of all the Beasts Link had stepped in, he expected Vah Medo to move the most with her surroundings. High above the clouds, circling at ever-changing heights—if anything was going to leave his gut choppy with motion sickness surely Vah Medo would be one. Instead, it was Vah Naboris’ constant lurching left Link off-kilter for an embarrassingly long amount of time.

Vah Naboris was hot—really fucking hot, and stuffy, the walls closing in the heavy, heated air like a furnace, and Link could practically hear the sand grinding between the Beast’s gears. Link unpinned his headscarf and slid it off, jerked the cowl away from his face, and stowed both away in his bag. The added breathing room didn’t do much against the stifling nature of the Beast’s main floor but it was nice to be able to have full peripheral vision.

Vah Naboris’ layout was… strange. The main control console sat above him on top of an awkward series of inclines, and under it hung a green crystal that flickered and buzzed with electricity. Link reached up, fingers prickling as they almost brushed past the green material, and the ground beneath him pitched with the step of the Beast. The floor was slick with sand, and the opening to the back hall holding the map’s terminal was stained with a hundred years’ worth of malice.

The unit hissed at him and Link hissed back at it before jabbing into with his sword. It popped, letting out a foul spell and purple spittle, before fizzling out into the thick, reddish air.

Nasty purple little creeps.

‘Whatever is in here took Urbosa down—' he reminded himself with a shudder. “The general of the Gerudo. Their highest-ranked warrior. This isn’t some ‘creep’—this is something to be truly warry of.’

He swallowed, brushed away the sand from the pedestal, and clipped his slate into place. The chirp of the Sheikah terminal echoed in the room, and all at once, the technology inside the Beast sprung to life. Circular slabs of stone began to rotate, sending clips of lighting across rails and around the room. Link could taste the electricity on his tongue and his hair prickled up on the back of his neck.

The Beast howled. Link was tempted to howl back.

His feet slid slightly under him through the thin dusting of sand as he moved through the half-lit corridors, past a doorway, and into a balcony exposing the desert sky.

There was the scuttle of metal feet and Link jumped back into the doorway. A guardian scout bolted out from the corner of the corridor, spear twitching out of it, and Link snapped the spear out of its grip with a quick swipe. A screw popped from its sliced arm, followed by a few gears from its gutted body, and the guardian scout dropped, defeated. Link kicked aside the spear, and with a soft grunt hauled the scout back into the light and up and over the edge of the side of the balcony.

It disappeared quickly under the sand, and Link leaned over the edge to look out across the horizon. Pink and gold mingled with the blue of the sky, and Gerudo Town was a black silhouette against it.

“Are you out here skulking?”

Link had known Urbosa was behind him for a good minute now, knew from the weight of her steps and the length of her stride. You didn’t become the youngest kid indoctrinated to the royal guard if you couldn’t bother to identify footsteps correctly. Hell, you couldn’t have grown up in his household if he didn’t know when someone was coming, and who. Still, he tilts his head, acknowledging that he has heard Urbosa, and she hmms.

“I hope you know you can speak freely with me.”

Link says nothing.

With precise steps, Urbosa moves beside him to look out into the sky. She doesn’t say a word, just shares the horizon sunset with him. There is a stiff silence between the two of them before she says in a clear, calm voice,

“I don’t often claim to hate people, but there is a certain dark place in my heart for Bosphoramus. I’ll never understand how Zelda turned into such a fine creature with him for a father”

Link clenches his fists together, his nails digging into his palms, and kept his eyes firmly on the horizon.

“I like to believe it was her mother watching over her, tugging her heart in the right direction.”

‘Her father will be furious with her,’ Link finally signs, and Urbosa watches his hands with careful eyes. ‘But I—’ Link’s hands slowly stilled.

“You wanted her away from the castle during all this. I would have done the same—birds aren’t meant for cages.”

The Princess—no, Zelda—had all but locked herself in her room the past week, refusing visitors, not accepting meals at the dining hall, missing lessons, and, most alarmingly, not meeting up with Robbie and Revali when they arrived to discuss the latest development on the ancient arrows.

“It happens every year when the anniversary of her mother's death comes along,” Impa had told him as Link watched the silent, sealed up tower from the training grounds. “It’ll be over in a week or so—his Majesty will drag her out for a memorial service and that will be that.”

Link looked up at the window of Zelda’s bedroom, curtains drawn tightly shut. He couldn’t imagine losing a mother;  he hadn’t had much of one to begin with and his father seemed invincible, given his platform of the head of the royal guard. So, when night came, he slipped past his fellow guardsmen to Zelda’s door and knocked. It was a series of quick raps in multiple patterns—his special signal to her that he was behind the door. There was silence but Link knew she wasn’t asleep. He knocked again. No answer. Link sighed and moved to plan two.

He hopped up on the edge of the walkway banister, dug his fingers into the stone grooves of the tower, and hoisted himself up. It only took a few feet to reach her window—which was a safety concern that Link should probably mention to someone—and slipped over the windowsill.

Zelda sat at a mirror, slowly undoing the hair around a golden hairpiece, and when she looked in the mirror Link’s stomach melted. He’d never seen those eyes so empty. Link slid off the sill and moved forward, placing a hand in her hair to pull out a hairpin. Golden curls bounced down the frame her face, and Zelda met his eyes through the mirror.

‘Let’s go away,’ Link had signed, ‘anywhere you want. Mipha, Hebra, Urbosa—’

“Urbosa.” Zelda had whispered, reaching up to grab his wrist. “I want to see Urbosa.”

Which had them here, the Princess below deck snuggled up in Gerudo furs and the Sheikah slate Link had slipped away with blinking with a sign from Impa. The King did not apricate their unannounced night time trip to the Gerudo. Zelda was to return at once and then her punishment was to be decided.

‘I’m not letting him put her through the ringer days before her mother fucking died.’ Link signs, hands shaking. ‘I’ll make sure he knew this was my plan alone and I should be the one facing consequences.’

Urbosa looks away from the sky to Link. “I’ve learned the hard way that Bosphoramus is not a man easily bargained with. But I will do as I can. I suspect he’s just a tad frightened of me.”

She smiles at that, a small one, and leans over to brush a streak of sand from under his eye. “Thank you for caring so much for my little bird. Too many see her as a political pawn. It’s nice to know there is someone out there who truly cares for her.”

“I knew her mother well,” Urbosa says, and her green eyes shot through him like electricity with each blink. “She was the witness at my wedding.”

Link’s eyes go wide. He didn’t know Urbosa was married.

“It’s an open secret, but a secret none the less,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “Chief Neikana and I. She doesn’t wish to spread the information any more than she must. I know she isn’t ashamed of me. Just values her position. Simply how politics are.”

Link nods, though he’s not quite sure he understands.

“When this Ganon thing is finished I’m going to marry her properly: a huge, glorious affair! You’ve never seen a Gerudo wedding—they’re amazing. 8 days of parties and dancing and all the food you can eat. You’ll love it.”

‘I’d be welcome?’

“A friend of mine is a friend of Neikana, and a friend of Neikana is a friend of all. What do you plan to do once this is done, hero?

Link thinks of icy breeze on his cheeks. He smells wildberries and tastes nutcake, feels soft feathers between his fingers, against his lips—

‘I’ll take back my station with the royal guard.’

Urbosa laughs. “You haven’t made a single decision for yourself as long as you’ve been alive, have you?”

Link recoils, jaw stammering as he tried to think of a reply, and Urbosa laughed.

“Your father is in the royal guard, so you join. You are told to try to draw the Master Sword, so you do it. You are told to take up the role of Champion, and you do it without a single thought. You have let someone else control your fate since the day you can walk.”

‘That’s not true,’ Link signs, hands harsh, and the usually wolfish grin on Urbosa’s face is soft.

“There is no harm in saying no. Pushing back. Your destiny is not decided for you”

Link wants to scoff. He wants to bare his teeth and ask Urbosa what she knew of destiny. Wants to tell her she was a fool, that she was wrong, that she knew nothing of his life. Instead, he forces his face neutral and doesn’t meet her eyes.

“It will rain soon,” Urbosa says. “I can feel it. The lighting thrums in my bones. Go, rest, I’m sure the Princess won’t mind sharing some furs.

She turns and moves back to the door, and lightning flutters across the sky. What did she know of destiny? … What did he know about destiny? What point was there in dwelling on it at all?

Lightning snapped across the Gerudo skyline, snapping Link out of the memory. The sound of the electricity cracking in the sky sounded like Urbosa’s laugh. Link moved past the corridor and up a flight of stairs. He closed his eyes as he moved, squeezed them tight, and tried to remember a mother, a father, the royal guard. All he got was a hazy red and blue, bruises from training practice… bruises from strong hands behind closed doors as his sister hid in another room, trying to drown out the sound.

His sister was soft, small, and lovely, hair golden with dark eyes. Birds ate from her hands and let her pet their heads, and she spent each day holding his hand as they waded, shoes in hand, through the shore.

She was golden, perfect, and Link couldn’t remember her name. Link shook his head, forcing the fragment of memory back, and kept walking.

---

Vah Naboris was designed to give you motion sickness. It had to be; Link planted his feet on the stone floor spinning upwards to holes in the walls, each one leading to a new maze. Link slipped into one just in time to avoid the crushing squeeze of the rolling floor and took a deep breath. The floor, ceiling, walls—all of it was lit with electricity, green crackling through the air, reeking of ozone and lightning. Link carefully stepped to the side, avoiding a rail of electricity, and squinted in the dim light. At the end of the hallway, the final terminal sat, glowing in the green light and purple malice. It was blocked off by metal bars that ran to the ceiling connected to a conductor, and water pooled around the base. Link figured it needed some form of electricity to open.

On either side of the terminal, a corridor split off. Link stuck his head into the left—it was coated in malic with no eye to be seen. Alright, right it was then.

He moved deeper into it and found a circular room lined with uneven lines of spikes. He flicked the Beast to life with a press of his slate and with a scream the room began to rotate. Link sidled between the spikes until he passed to the end of the room; there at the end of the room, surrounded in furs and carpets and cooking supplies, was a metal ball, the inside glittering with electricity. Link took hold of it with magnesis and moved back through the rotating room. When he placed the ball in the water the new conductor sent electricity up the bars, which shot open.

Link hopped over the water—last thing he needed what to die from electrocution after all this—and swiped his slate over the terminal. It beeped and the slate chirped. The control panel was ready. Link took a deep breath and moved back to the main room. He was going to smash the fear of Hylia into this Blight.

The malice gurgled as he ran his slate over it. It lept up, jerking towards his hand, and Link yanked his hand back. The malice slid back and congealed again before slithering beneath his feet and over him, around him, hissing like a desert sandstorm. The smell of death, ozone, and malice filled the air.

An arm formed, wobbly as it wrapped around a jagged, glowing sword, then another arm, baring a heavy shield. Electricity hummed over both, and with an earsplitting scream the head formed, blue eye rolling, and long, flowing, red hair sprouted from it’s bubbling head.

Thunderblight pointed its crackling sword towards Link. Link drew his own, and the Blight charged.

It was faster than Waterblight and Windblight combined, and its strokes were small but heavy, catching Link in his stomach within seconds and sending him flying away from the control panel, rolling down the curved wall.

Son of a bitch. Link steadied himself, moving his shield closer in, and the Blight hung above him for a moment before charging again. Link rolled out of the way, swiping out with his sword, but it was too fast. It lunged again and Link jerked out of the way, moving fast enough to distract it and allow for him to throw in a few hits, chopping at its neck and taking a few locks of red hair with it. Purple blood began to drip down it’s back and shoulder, running down its arm, and as the Blight flew up out of distance it raised it’s sword arm, letting loose a flurry of electricity.

Link tried to run out of the way of the crackling green, but he was too slow. It caught him in the side and he dropped, spasming on the floor. Thunderblight took the moment of weakness as an opening and swung its sword down. Link rolled out of the way just in time, the sword burying itself in the stone instead of him. He forced himself to his feet and Thunderblight was there to meet him, striking him in the stomach.

Link’s breath stopped as he felt the sword pass through his guts, splitting his stomach and intestines, sending electricity through his bones. His teeth burned and blood spilled down his chin as his jaw clamped down on his tongue. The Blight twisted its blade and Link whimpered, limps jerking with lightning, and slid back off of Thunderblight’s weapon.

The Blight just floated, watching from above as Link dropped to his back, blood pooling around him. He hadn’t gotten more than two hits in. The knowledge was more shameful than the fact that Link knew this was how he going to die. Less than five minutes of fighting, the Blight only hitting him, what, three times? And he was going to bleed to death here.

Pathetic.

Link was tempted to close his eyes. His stomach was pure agony, soaked with his own blood, and every muscle ached from electrocution. The Blight made a sound that resembled laughter.

Urbosa had died to this thing—what made him think he could do this?

Urbosa.

Urbosa, who would spend all of eternity trapped here if he died. The Princess, who would have held back Ganon for a hundred years for nothing. Revali, who… who…

Link struggled to all fours, then to his feet. The Blight lunged again and Link swerved out of the way and, despite the screaming in his stomach with each movement, pulled himself up onto the walkway that held the control panel. He at least had to try. Gritting his teeth, Link stood and turned to face Thunderblight. It rammed him but he caught its sword on his own, before parrying and sending it smashing against the control panel. Link swung, blood spewing down his front from his gut, smashing his sword into the Blight again, and the Beast groaned as something in the control panel cracked. Thunderblight stood and raised its sword, ready to swing, but squealed at something holding it in place. A brown arm and a patch of red hair had forced itself out of the malice surrounding the panel and now held tight to Thunderblight’s hair. Link narrowed his eyes and forced himself forward. He dug his sword straight into the eye of the Blight over and over, the stone mask covering its true face cracking before splitting in half, purple blood spewing across Link’s face.

It spasmed, clawing at its eye, wailing like a hurt child, before dropping at Link’s feet. It melted away into nothing but noxious gas.

Link pushed past it, eyes beginning to blur, fingers cold and arms so, so heavy, and grabbed hold of Urbosa’s arm. With the malice beginning to break apart it was easy to pull her free. The Champion squinted up at him.

“Wonderful job.” She said with a weak smile, and fainted.

Blood poured down her back from a nasty gash that ran from her left shoulder to right hip, and her chest was littered with stab wounds. Link knew he wouldn’t have the energy to heal her, not like this. They needed to get to Gerudo Town, and they needed to get there now. He hoisted Urbosa on his back, and with heavily shaking fingers, pulled out his Sheikah slate.

Daqo Chisay.

Usually, the trips just made him nauseous. Now when he blinked out into the sunlight before Gerudo Town, he vomited, spewing blood on the sand. He took shuddering steps towards the gates, feet slipping in the sand, and send a prayer of thanks to Hylia when he saw Riju at the entrance. Apparently, the sight of him and Urbosa emerging out thin air dripping blood everywhere was enough to draw an instant crowd and a handful of guards.

Link could not explain himself without dropping Urbosa and he wasn’t willing to do that. Riju seemed to be doing that for him. He couldn’t hear her, not really, not with his ears ringing and his whole body so numb, so cold, somehow unable to feel anything while still on fire, and tears dripped down his face. He couldn’t do this. He just needed to lie down, just for—just for a moment—

“Bring him to the palace,” Riju said. He did not hear her. “Bring my personal healer.”

“Lady Riju—” one guard said, “You cannot be suggesting you let in some common voe—”

“A voe who has graciously brought peace to Vah Naboris and carries our general and Champion upon his back! One hundred years ago my grandmother gave pardon to the three voe Champions that they may enter this place. As Chief, I continue her practice. This voe has my pardon.”

Link didn’t hear the response to the question. Granted, he hadn’t heard any of it, his head swam from so much blood loss, heart struggling to pump as it drained from his body, but at those words, Urbosa finally became too heavy and the bleeding too much, and he dropped down into the sand, out cold.

Chapter Text

Link woke up feeling like he was made in two pieces that had been crudely stitched together. Opening his eyes felt impossible; his gums aced, hist teeth felt strangely raw and heavy, and worst was the stabbing, hot pain that radiated from his split belly.

After what felt like years of gussying up the nerve, Link opened his eyes. His vision was hazy with pain potion, head stuffed with cotton and clouds, and he squeezed his eyes shut a few times to help his vision clear. The room had no windows, and most of the light from behind a door covered by thick, colorful curtains. Whoever laid him on the bed hadn’t covered him with a blanket, exposing his skin to the dim light: bandages sticky with burn medicine covered his arms, most of his stomach, and some of his left thigh. A large bruise covered his entire right side, from chest to armpit. And, stretching across the entirety of his stomach, slicing his gut near in two, was what must have been the stab wound Link remembered. The stitches were clean, but the skin underneath was swollen, pulling on the horsehair threads. Burned skin peeled away from the stitches in ribbons, leaving pale, greasy skin behind.

Link couldn’t tear his eyes off of it. He hadn’t realized it had been so… big.

Slowly, painfully, he raised his hand to his gut. His fingers wobbled above his stomach, and Link wasn’t sure if it was the drowsiness from the pain potion or the weakness of his body. No. No, he couldn’t use Mipha’s Grace—healing something that big might as well kill him. And he was tired, so damn tired. Going back to sleep sounded wonderful. How had he taken her Grace for granted this long?

Seeing Mipha, feeling her cool, scaly hands sounded so nice right now, her soft smile leeching away pain. Or Revali—

Revali.

He could almost remember a day on the road, Revali watching anxiously by Mipha’s side as she healed a gash on Link’s arm from a moblin ambush. The Rito had sworn it was merely comradery between coworkers, not real concern, but Revali let Link run his injured hand through his braided feathers anyway. His green eyes had lingered on Link’s fading cuts, and they were filled with something heavy Link didn’t quite recognize.

Link missed him. Fuck, Link missed him, regretted leaving Rito Village so soon, regretted leaving their… friendship?... so open-ended. He raised his least injured hand to the braid in his hair, the feather thankfully not dislodged in the fight. Bits of hair was starting to frizz though, and Link finally made himself sit up with a pained hiss to redo it. Leaning against the headboard he unwound the braid and caught the blue feather before it fell. Running the feather across his fingertips sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. He wove it back into his hair and tied it off. There. Perfect.

‘Not as perfect as if Revali did it,’ a soft spot in his mind whispered sweetly. ‘Revali would make something beautiful out of a simple braid.’

Fine—then he would simply go to Rito Village after this and have Revali redo it for him. The thought made him almost giddy. Link smiled softly to himself. Finally, he’d be out of this damn desert and be somewhere perfectly cool.

Wait. No, no, he couldn’t go. Dorian.

Ere had mentioned the gatekeeper in the Yiga Hideout, and Link refused to let a Yiga spy hide amongst the Sheikah. There were children there, elderly, and Paya with her awkward sweetness. Revali would have to wait.

So, Link would have to finish healing himself sooner than later. Who knew when Dorian would decide to strike? Link hoisted himself up further and, with a wince and a silent curse, slid his legs over the bed. He almost crumpled when his legs hit the floor—Gerudo healing was nothing compared to the Zora—but steadied himself on the side of the bed. Taking small, delicate steps he moved out of the room and down the hall, looking around for Riju. Instead, he found the doorway for the indoor garden in the center of the palace. Sitting on the stone mosaic floor, leaning back against the fountain, and looking at the flowers and tapestries around her, was Urbosa. She was dressed in a robe of elegant colors, barefoot with her hair down. Every bit of her exposed legs was covered in greasy bandages, and she sat stiffly, likely trying to keep her back and chest wounds steady. She did not look up when he entered, but Link could tell by the twitch in her cheek that she knew he was there.

“Do you know how strange it is to see yourself on a wall that you once prayed to? I guarded Neikana when she prayed here each day to the Goddess of Sand and the Eight Heroines. Now she is woven onto the wall, and I stand beside her. Do you remember Neikana?” She finally turned her head at the final question.

Link shook his head. ‘I remember you loved her.’

Urbosa chuckled, and the sadness in it sounded so wrong for her. “She was so frantic when I went to Vah Naboris for the final time, demanded she had something important to tell me. I told her good news would taste sweeter after victory. Do you know what she had wanted to tell me?” She leaned her head back against the stone. “That she was pregnant. Ganon has taken my life from me, my wife from me, and now my daughter. She died just a year or so before this. Did you know?”

Link nodded, and she seemed surprised. ‘Riju told me. She said if not for her grandmother, the Yiga would have overtaken the city, and that her mother was the greatest chief in generations.’

Urbosa smiled, and finally began to look something like herself. “I have no doubt she was. Tell me, hero, how much do you really remember of all this?”

Link shrugged and made a vague sign, and at that Urbosa finally laughed. Her fire-red hair flashed as it fell across her face.

“Tell me, then. What have I missed as you’ve run around the continent?”

‘The Zora came across only mildly damaged. Mipha’s brother, Sidon, is a strong prince now, and Mipha is recovering—she also had art erected in her honor—and Rito Village was demolished. Revali was mauled but was awake enough to insult me before I left. Impa—'

“Impa is still alive?’ Urbosa’s face lit up. ‘The little thing was always so desperate to please, and so kind to my little bird; do you remember—”

‘That she was infatuated with you? She’s chief of the Sheikah now. Has a granddaughter.’

“Good, I’m glad. She was a good kid. Though she might be older than me now. Fuck, does this make me an old woman? Oh, Goddess no, please tell me it doesn’t.”

Link laughed and immediately regretted it as his gut spasmed. Urbosa waved for him to sit and with a—rather embarrassing—whimper, he did.

“Thanks to your valor and skill Vah Naboris is ours once again.” Urbosa murmured. “Finally, we can finish what we started all those years ago. I hope you know that we Gerudo have no tolerance for unfinished business. But remember, there is no shame in showing pain. I always told your Princess that.”

‘She speaks to me. Rarely, but when she does, she sounds strong. Determined.’

“She is that. A warrior through and through.” She helped Link lay against her and rest his head on her lap, one of the few parts of her lower body not burned to a crisp with electricity.

“I imagine we share scars now. Electricity leaves quite a bite. Never thought it would bite me though. I suppose pride nips even the best of us.”

“I wouldn’t call you prideful, Lady Urbosa.” A soft voice called from the doorway. Riju seemed to realize just how wavering her voice sounded and repeated it with more power. “My lady, you aren’t prideful. You simply know your strengths.”

 Urbosa laughed, loud and wonderful, and Riju flushed.

“Don’t think I laugh at you, my Chief. It is simply the notion that I don’t feel pride. I assure you that every bone in my body is painted with at least a little cockishness.

“I should be calling you Chief, Lady Urbosa.” Riju said, chin raised. Link realized why she looked so strange; her headdress was gone, leaving behind a small, red mess of hair on a tiny head. Urbosa beckoned Riju over with an elegant finger.

“And why would that be, my Chief?”

“As standing general at the time of the Calamity, you outrank me. I’m—I’m just a child. The throne should be yours.”

Urbosa clicked her tongue and patted the ground on her other side. “My Chief, there would be no greater dishonor than stealing you from your rightful throne. My love gave the Thunder Helm to your mother, and your mother gave the Thunder Helm to you—”

“But I don’t even know how to use it!”

“The Thunder Helm cannot be taught, my Chief, only learned. You protected your city from a great tragedy and helped return me to my home so that I might smite the pig. You have proven yourself worthy of the throne, and I can tell from the gold of your eye that the Thunder Helm has chosen you.” Urbosa dipped her head to her chin. “If I could stand, I swear I would bow to you.”

Riju flushed again and sat, smoothing out her dress and holding her head high enough to meet Urbosa’s eyes straight on.

“You are about to see history remade, my Chief,” Urbosa said, resting her hand on Link’s forehead. “For a hundred years I have waited for the moment our hero rushes Hyrule Castle while I obliterate Ganon to a pile of ash. With our Princess’ help of course.” She smiled and bopped Link’s nose with her finger before something soft and sad flickered across her face.

“Link—I want you to know—you and the Princess— that I am certain you have both suffered over what happened to us Champions. There is no need for anyone to carry any blame. That belongs only to the pig befouling our Princess’ castle. And when you see Zelda: tell her to shed any worries. Tell her I couldn’t be more proud of her.

The solemnness left her face and Urbosa clapped her hands. “I was promised a proper wedding feast in remembrance of my own wife, daughter, and—” She gave Riju a squeeze,”—granddaughter. Tell me, how much longer must I wait for honeyed voltfruit after a hundred years?”

---

Urbosa had been right: Gerudo weddings were a sight to see.  Lavish rugs had been pulled into the main square, covered in plush pillows and low tables, and Link had been given the honor of sitting at Chief Riju’s left hand. Urbosa sat to her right, and Buliara, dressed to the nines in royal guard regalia, sat proudly at Riju’s feet, claymore glittering gold across her folded legs. Link could see the open interest in the women around him, many of which had never seen a voe before. Riju had called for traditional voe-style Gerudo clothes to be fitted to Link and altered to allow comfort for his wounds. —'Voe clothes?’ Link had signed in confusion, and Riju had nodded. “There is more to our culture than binary genders”) Link suggested Vilia as a tailor and Urbosa had laughed.

“Finding another lover so soon?” She said with a cheeky smile and Link had spluttered, cheeks blazing.

‘She helped me enter the town.’ He said sheepishly, and Urbosa had near howled with laughter at the full story until Link worried her stitches might tear.

Vilia had kissed both sides of his face when she entered, and Link could see the smile in her eyes even with her face covered.

“My handsome young man finally finding a place for himself. Marriage! Who is it? Pretty girl? Pretty boy? Goddess knows I of all people should not assume. Who cares, who cares, sit, you look like you might die if I blow on you.”

She turned to pull bolts of fabric from the box she had carried with her from the bazar and Link slowly, agonizingly, slid off his open-faced robe. Vilia’s eyes doubled in size at the sight of the stitches and bandages. “Well, Hylia fuck me.” She breathed, not bothering to hide her concern, and Link shifted anxiously under her gaze.

She chose blue and green fabric in the end, unable to choose which suited him better, and put together a basic pattern, altering it to be open in the front. After a day of healers checking stitches and reapplying bandages, servants washing the sand from his hair with sweet perfumes, and covering his sunburn with sweet-smelling cream, Vilia was ready.

A long, coat-like shirt of blue linen and white beading was slowly moved over his aching shoulders and left open to the air, held in black with a green strip of fabric. The pants, a blue dhoti, were just as decorated, white beads and embroidery thread running up and down them, and the fabric sat loose enough not to aggravate his burns.

Riju was as giddy as a hummingbird as her, Urbosa, Buliara, and Link took their seats, squeezing Link’s hand before slowly growing comfortable enough to do the same to her grandmother.

She stood, giving a long, enthusiastic speech in Gerudo, voice echoing across the loud courtyard, and women hooted and hollered at certain lines, clapping and beating their cups against the stone. Riju bowed to thunderous applause and gestured to Urbosa, who smiled and raised her cup, downing the spiced wine in one gulp, and the crowd went wild.

“Now,” Riju said as she sat. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. “We eat.”

They did eat, curries and candied fruits and soft bread and smoked meats and wine cask after wine cask after wine cask until Link felt full and drowsy. Objectively he was pretty sure he had had too much wine, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Urbosa leaned over to take his cup from him, giving Riju a concerned look, and Link giggled at something a Gerudo girl said to him as she reached forwards to touch his hair.

“That’s enough,” Urbosa said, voice gentle but stern, and the woman apologized as she moved back.

‘Come on, let her have her fun.’ Link signed, fingers slippery, ‘We might be dead in three weeks, let her do what she wants.’

The girl glanced at Urbosa, clearly alarmed, and Urbosa looked to Buliara. “I think Link should retire.” She said softly, and Link scoffed, shaking his head.

‘Fuck, let’s not ignore the truth. I failed once, I’ll fail again. Everything I do, every time, is all for nothing. I killed you. I killed all of you and the Princess, and I’ll kill Hyrule, so fuck it, let’s drink and dance and fuck and be merry!’

“Help me stand,” Urbosa murmured to one guard, “the Champion and I are going to return to my chambers.” The woman nodded and helped Urbosa up while Buliara carefully dragged Link away. She dumped him—with care—on Urbosa’s bed and the other guard sat Urbosa down next to him.

“Thank you,” Urbosa said. “Go keep an eye on our Chief—let’s not ruin anyone’s fun”

The two women nodded and then they were gone, leaving just the Champions behind.

“You made quite a scene,” Urbosa said. Link grunted. “My wedding was not the time to pull this bullshit.” She hissed, and suddenly tears began to leak from Link’s eyes.

Something gargled mixture of almost words came out from his mouth in a painful rasp, and Urbosa jerked around to look at him.

“What?” She whispered. She’d never heard him speak before. Link couldn’t make the words a second time and instead burst into heaving sobs, burying his face in the sheets.

“Link, please, you didn’t kill anyone.” She whispered, laying a hand on his shoulder. “What happened—this was all out of your control. You, the Princess, neither of you could have done any different. Nothing at all.”

Link made a shuddering inhale before dissolving into a coughing fit from crying so hard, and, despite the pain it caused her, Urbosa leaned forwards and took him in her arms.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, running a hand through his hair. “I swear.”

Link went silent as he dipped down to sleep, and Urbosa kept her hand in his hair until his shudders came to a complete stop.

---

Link wasn’t sure what was worse in the morning—the hangover or the embarrassment. No one was cross with him, but Riju was concerned and Urbosa kept the peace.

‘I’m leaving.’ Link told her a week later, the two of them sitting and looking on the terrace over the main square.

The past week and a half had been wonderful. Healing was slow but steady, and as he started to finally move around freely, he found himself feeling lazy and comfortable. Getting too used to comfortable beds with soft linen sheets, kind faces, breakfasts with fresh melon juice and conversations with Riju and Urbosa. He found himself staring silently some nights, chest filled with sheer guilt over ever lying in a bed. He killed them. Even he may be saving the Champions now that still didn’t change every lost Hylian life. It was all on his hands.

“Are you sure about leaving?” Urbosa said, chewing on a piece of melon and offering on to him. He took it and the cool, fresh flavor exploded in his mouth.

‘I can’t stay here forever. Vah Rudania and the Princess are waiting.’

She nodded slowly, chewing thoughtfully.

“I want you to listen and take this to heart, Link. My Beast, Naboris—she was named after Nabooru—you have seen her on the garden walls. She is a legend for the Gerudo, one of our ancestors, celebrated over ages. Us—we are legends as well. But first and foremost, we are people. The bitter essence of defeat a hundred years ago still sits on my tongue. But I cannot let it control me. That—that is now in the past.

Instead of fixating on my near death, I look to the future instead. It is written that Calamity Ganon once adopted the form of a Gerudo. And to me? That will make this victory all the most satisfying. Because now I can take this personally.

Find that strength. Find that reason to push all other thoughts aside. Do you understand me?”

Link nodded

“Do you understand me?” She said again, voice strong as iron.

‘Yes,’ Link signed. ‘I do. Make it personal. Make it mine. Take back the narrative. I decided what to dwell on, and I decide who I’m fighting for.’

Urbosa nodded. “Good.” She handed him another melon. “Never forget that, Link. Never.”

At dusk Link left with a tap on his slate, leaving with a hug from Riju, a firm nod from Buliara, and a broad, brilliant smile from Urbosa.

Light, shining earrings hung from his ears, the pieces of topaz reflecting yellow sparkling light on his cheeks and neck.

“Protects again electricity.” Riju had told him as she pierced his ears, wiping away blood once she pulled out the needle and carefully inserted the earrings. “It isn’t any Thunder Helm but it will protect you from any electric foe. Please don’t return with more electric burns, alright?”

Link had nodded, and Riju kissed his forehead. “Come back soon, alright? I’ll teach you how to properly ride a seal. Your form is atrocious. Maybe… maybe we could even race together, once you’re good enough?”

Link smiled and she beamed back at him, cheeks dusted pink.

Now the light weight of the earrings would prove to be a constant reminder of a new friend.

Link stepped past the gates of Gerudo Town, his champions tunic freshly washed and on his back, head held high, Sheikah slate in hand, and was about to tap Ta’Loh Naeg when he heard someone approach.

“I wanted to see you off personally,” Urbosa said. The bandages around her legs had come off three days ago, but the mass of burn scars was still surprising. There was more scar than skin.

“I have faith in you, Link. I always have, and now, seeing what you can truly do, even on your own, that faith has become unshakable.” She opened her arms and Link found himself melt into her embrace without a though. She smelled like electric safflina and burn cream, and her skin was cool against the night heat.

“Do me a favor, will you?”

Link nodded as he stepped back. ‘Anything’.

She grinned. “Take care of the Princess for me.”

She winked, Link tapped the screen, and Urbosa and the desert sky melted into blue and white.

---

 Kakariko Village had a certain smell to it. Plum flowers and cinnamon wood, incense, and magic. Unlike the Yiga, Kakariko’s magic smelled soft and sweet. Most of it came from the prayer spells pinned on and around the offering stones before Impa’s home and from the Goddess statue. The statue was small but elegant, lit up by the reflection of the fire on water.

Link moved from Ta’Loh Naeg to the main square, moving down the main storefronts. They were empty—they were never empty, even during a thunderstorm, and that made Link nervous. At the base of the stairway to Impa’s home, there were no guards. Muddy footsteps led up the stairs to a—a broken door. It hung halfway off its hinges, and with little thought of his still-healing wounds, Link bolted up the stairs and threw himself into the home.

Two swords are drawn at him as soon as he enters: Cado and… Dorian. Link’s heart sank and rose at the same time at the sight of him.

Impa knelt in front of Paya, who lay on the floor and clutched her arm to her chest. The painting on the wall behind her had been crushed, glass scattered on the floor.

“Lower your weapons,” Impa said, all the age gone from her voice. She sounded just like the warrior she had once been, and it sent shivers down Link’s spine.

“He could be an imposter—” Cado said, and Impa laughed bitterly.

“You don’t think after a hundred and 20 years I know what cloaking magic looks like? Let him in.”

Cado nodded and Link kept an ear towards Dorian as Link moved forwards to Paya.

‘What happened?’ He asked, and Paya’s breath hitched. Her hands were too busy to wipe her face, letting hot tears and snot run freely down her cheeks and lips. Link leaned forward slowly, giving her the chance to move away, and wiped her cheeks with his sleeve. He cupped her clean cheek with a wet hand and Paya’s voice shuddered as she began to talk.

“I was cleaning the heirloom a final time before bed. I locked the doors and the windows and I was putting away my tools when a hand grabbed… grabbed me by my hair and pulled me away. He threw me across the floor and, and, and moved to the heirloom. But Dorian had been teaching me how to use a dagger and I thought—I—I thought…” She dissolved into tears again and Link pulled her softer against him. “I told him to leave, and he laughed. He was so big. So, so big… and he grabbed my arm and twisted and threw me into the painting so hard that I couldn’t breathe, and when I finally stood, he and the heirloom were gone.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, “Grandmother, I’m so, so, sorry—”

Impa shushed her. “You’ve done nothing wrong. No one expected this of you.”

She nodded and pulled back from Link.

‘Are you hurt?’ He signed. She offered her wrist; whist was swollen and heavily bruised.

‘Let me.’ Link said and took the wrist gently in his hands. The Grace came easily, and Paya hissed for a moment before letting out a sigh of relief at the healed wrist.

“Cado, Dorian—you are to stay by Paya’s side for as long as she needs you. Link, I’ll give you an hour of sleep. We have much to discuss.

“Let me tell my girls I won’t be returning tonight,” Dorian said, and Link narrowed his eyes.

“It had been a long time since I’m prayed to a statue of Hylia. Give me a moment.” Link said, and Impa nodded with a sigh. “Be back within half of the hour. Cado, take Paya upstairs.”

The gatekeeper nodded and Link moved outside, hanging by the Goddess statue to watch Dorian.

The man moved past his home onto the path leading to the woods. Link moved passed the homes to the top of the hill leading towards the tree line. He dug his fingers into the dirt and hoisted himself up before sliding down into the grass. A blupee looked at him with confusion and Link slowly brought his finger to his lips. The creature seemed to understand and silently slid out of view.

Slowly, Dorian sidled up the path, and Link grit his teeth. He continued to crawl through the grass until Dorian was out of sight past the tree line. Dorian stood before a shrine pedestal, breathing unsteadily. Link stood. At the noise, Dorian immediately spun.

“Link?” He hissed, face relaxing just a twitch at the sight of him. “You need to leave. You can’t be here, not right now.”

‘I can't?’ Link signed with a sneer. ‘You know where I just got back from?’

Link took a step closer, and Dorian stepped back. ‘Gerudo desert. And I met some lovely friends of yours there. Ere sends her regards.’ Dorian paled, taking another step back. His hands shook.

“Listen, Link, I can explain everything, just not now, and not here. Please leave, please—I’m begging you.”

Dorian’s head jerked towards a sound Link didn’t hear, and he swore under his breath. “Stay here. Hide.” He took a deep breath and turned back the pedestal.

“Show yourself!’ He shouted, “I know you’re here!”

“There’s no need to yell. I’m right here.”

The voice was thick with a Sheikah accent—Link hadn’t realized how different the dialect the Yiga spoke with sounded from the Kakariko Shiekah—and the smell of old magic filled the air. In a flash of red and spell paper, a Yiga blade master appeared. He rolled his neck, popping any kinks in his neck, and his sword was as easily as long as Link’s leg. So, Dorian came out here to meet with a buddy. Disgusting.

“So, you’re the one who stole the heirloom, Danji.”

“You were moving too slow. We were impatient. I’d say the boss was impatient, but that Goddess chosen fucker threw him over the pit in cold blood.”

“She was just a child—”

“You should have known better than to arm her then, you’re lucky I didn’t slice off her arm for her troubles.”

Dorian choked at that and Danji laughed.

“Such anger!” He said in a falsetto. “I guess this damn thing really is important to the traitorous fools of this fucking village.”

“There was no point in taking it. It’s useless.”

“It certainly proved how incompetent you are,” Danji said. Any humor was now gone from his voice. “Don’t play dumb, Dorian, you knew what you were getting into when you decided to leave the organization. You’re lucky they chose me to come and not Ere. I promise you you’d come home to two sweet little broken bodies waiting for you if she came here.”

“You leave them out of this!”

Danji scoffed. “You forfeited your life, your wife’s life, and their lives the moment you left, you cowardly bastard. Still, you did well to tell us about the girl’s research on the heirloom. Unfortunately, you’ve proven yourself increasingly useless. And is your usefulness has come to an end, then so must you. I’ve waited a long time to slice your guts open, Dorian. I can’t wait to see you die holding your intestines in your hand. But first!”

Danji twisted his head over his shoulder to where Link crouched. “It appears we have an audience!”

The blade master turned to Link and raised his sword “For my fallen master!”

Link lunged out of the way of blow of air, rolling into the grass. He spat out dirt and stood. His unhealed wounds groaned as he pulled himself up, his gut pulling against the stitches. He drew his sword.

“Stay back!” Dorian cried, “This is my fight. Leave!”

Link ran to his side, moving to his blind spot, and Dorian breathed out a soft, “Link, please.” before moving to guard Link’s back. Back to back, they stood, and Danji scoffed.

“You’ve fallen so far, Dorian.”

Dorian lunged, and as he kept Danji distracted Link swung at his exposed flank, slicing from thigh to knee. Danji roared, flipping way from Dorian to Link, and it gave Dorian the opening to slide his sword into Danji’s left side and left ribs.

Danji gasped and dropped, blood being pushed out from the side wound with each breath.

“Don’t think we’ll forget this.” He wheezed, “The eye of the Yiga sees all. It doesn’t matter how much you run—we’ll find you.” He brought his hands together with a flash of red and spell paper. “Beware the eye of the Yiga!”

And then he was gone. Dorian chest heaved for a moment, and then he dropped to the forest floor, fat tears running down his face. Link squatted down beside him, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do.

Dorian sighed and wiped his face. “Forgive my composure.” He whispered. “As I’m sure you’ve realized, this, all of this, is my fault. There’s no point in trying to hide it. I am… I am a member of the Yiga Clan. Or at least I was. I met the most wonderful woman in an undercover operation. She was a Kakariko Sheikah, and she was the kindest person I ever knew. I tried to change my ways. For her, for our children. But in retaliation the Yiga—they killed my wife. The threatened my girls. In order to keep them safe I was to spy on Impa and give them information on you. I’m sorry, Link, for any danger I put you in. The Yiga—they’re pure evil. They said they would kill Impa and Paya if I ever tried to stop.

Paya figured out the heirloom was the key to a shine. I don’t understand it, it sounds like mumbo jumbo to me, but she does. So, they wanted it. Paya feels devoted to helping you in your quest. If any of us deserved to suffer here, she was the last.

Do with me as you will.” He whispered. “I’ll accept any punishment you see fit.”

Link stood and sheathed his sword. He offered Dorian a hand.

‘Come on. I think you need a good night’s sleep.’

Dorian’s eyes were saucers. ‘And I think,’ Link signed, ‘this can stay our little secret.’

Chapter Text

Dorian didn’t look at Link the whole way down the hill. His tan skin was still ruddy from his scrubbed away tears, and the white of his overshirt was speckled with Danji’s blood. He offered no more information on the Yiga and Link did not ask; instead, Link stopped them at the door of Dorian’s home.

‘Get some rest.’ He signed. ‘I’ll explain your absence. I’m sure your girls would be happy to spend the night sleeping beside you,’

Dorian opened his mouth, closed it, and simply nodded his head in thanks. Link doubted Dorian would sleep at all tonight.

Link jogged back to Impa’s house, hoping the blade master’s blood hadn’t seeped from his sword sheath to the back of his tunic. That was the last thing Paya needed to see. He sighed and waved when Cado noticed him from the front door. It had been moved back onto its hinges, but still wobbled when Link moved past it.

“Where’s Dorian? What took you so long? Why—”

Impa raised a firm hand, silencing Cado.

‘We noticed a figure in the darkness. Dorian took after it and I followed. It was a Yiga blade master, the same one who attacked Paya. We managed to wound him, but he escaped. At least he left behind your heirloom.’

Paya nodded, eyes slowly softening. The stress on her face was apparent; her eyes were dark and heavy, and her tan skin had lost some of its pallor.

‘Dorian was concerned the blade master might return and chose to stay behind with his girls in case that happened. I told him I would take on any responsibility you all need of me.’

Cado looked to Impa for approval of the story and Impa nodded. She settled onto her cushion, headdress rattling as she moved.

“Thank you, Link. It would mean a great deal to me if you stayed till the morning. I’m sure I would feel safer with you here.”

Everyone in the room knew she meant Paya would feel safer, Paya included, but no one offered that information. Link bowed his head in support.

“Paya, take him upstairs.” She said. Her age had crept back into her face and voice. “I’m sure you can find a place for him to lay his head.”

Paya nodded and quietly offered him her hand.

“Let’s go.” She all but whispered, and Link could feel her tremble through her hand as she led him upstairs. She slid the screen of her bedroom door open and shut behind them.

Link unhooked his sword and leaned it in between the doorframe, stopping it from being opened from the outside, and Paya gasped when she noticed the speckling of blood left over from his fight with the blade master.

“Master Link, you’re hurt—”

‘Not my blood,’ he tried to reassure her, and Paya’s lips twisted as she threw herself down on her bed. Link swallowed.

‘Thank you for your present, he signed finally, and Paya cocked her head. ‘The Sheikah armor. It kept me safe on my journey. So, thank you, truly.’

Paya smiled softly and finally patted the mat next to her, inviting him to sit.

“Do you mind if I take down my hair?”

Link shook his head, and Paya reached up. She pulled the two hairpins from her buns and a wave of silver hair cascaded down her shoulders, crimped from spending so much time tight up on top of her head. She laid the pins down on the bedsheets and untied the loops of braided hair at her temples, quickly threading the hair straight.

She flushed when she noticed Link’s lingering gaze.

‘Why do you put your hair up? Do all Sheikah women put it up like that? And your face paint, do you...’

Link lowered his hands sheepishly. ‘Sorry. It’s not of my business.’

Paya shook her head. “I’m happy to tell you.”

She stood and extended her hand, and for a moment Link stared before realizing she meant for him to join her. Her fingers were warm against his skin, and she pulled him to a table across the room, filled with bobbles and knick-knacks with a spot made for a tightly bound diary.

She knelt before the mirror.

“See this?” She held out a polished, painted comb with lettering writing across each tooth. “We comb out our hair each morning with this to catch any lingering spirits from the night before and wash it with water from our Goddess statue. Her Grace tinges everything we do, just as it has from the first day a Sheikah was created.”

Link stared. That was the longest he’d heard her speak in one sitting, and a power hid in the words that he’d yet to hear from her. Her earlier dusting of pink darkened to a deep red under his surprised gaze and she retracted her hand.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to talk so much.”

‘No, I liked it! I like hearing your voice.’

Paya bit her lip. ”You don’t have to humor me, you know. I know you know I like you—everyone does. And I’m sure it’s annoying, and you mustn’t feel compelled to stay on my grandmother’s behalf, or whatever.”

Link furrowed his eyebrows, unsure of what to say before finally kneeling down to her level and brushing a strand of white hair behind her ear. Paya met his gaze as he pulled back, and Link gave her a soft smile.

‘Would you mind showing me how you do it? It looks so complicated.’

“I could… do a male style on you, if you’d like.” Link nodded and moved in front of the mirror, while Paya moved to sit behind him.

“Open that tin and slide it to me, would you? My ties and pins are in there.”

Link slid it over and Paya began to section his hair.

“Hylia, above, below, and around us,” She began to murmur as she brushed the comb through his hair, “guide us that we may be wise and brave in our service to You—oh!”

She brought her hand back with a jerk as the teeth of the comb caught on Link’s braid.

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t noticed—is that a Rito braid!?”

Link nodded, fingers coming up to brush the feather, and Paya let out a soft, gentle sound.

“I’ve never seen one in person before—we rarely see travelers—but they sound so romantic, getting to carry a piece of your love with you and bare their name proudly. What are they like, if you don't mind me asking?”

‘Loud. Arrogant. Deeply compassionate under all the ruffled feathers. They love children and worry easily.’

“They sound lovely.” Her fingers brushed through his hair as she ran them down the braid, and a bolt of pride struck through Link as she took note of Revali’s feather.

“In service to You’—do you say that each time you brush your hair?’

Paya nodded, a smile starting to grow on her face. “It’s not the full prayer, but usually I stick to this shortened version instead of the whole thing. It reminds us our place as protectors, spiritually and physically, and the duties we have as Sheikah. The Sheikah were the first wise beings formed by Hylia after all. Did you know that in the past, Sheikah all wore cowls? It was to honor our earliest ancestors, who stood so close to the Goddess’ side that they had to cover their faces to keep from being burned when they looked at her Grace.”

Link leaned into her hand as she continued combing. ‘I never thought about past Sheikah before.’

“Oh, we have quite the history,” Paya said. She split his hair down the middle and looped a curl of hair around her palm before rolling it atop his head, pinning it as she went. She took a long, red, delicately carved pin and slid it in place, holding half his hair on the peak of his scalp. “We used to be soldiers and priests, dedicated to serving Hylia before all else. We created great technology in honor of Her, gifts to show Her greatness to the world. But…”

Link raised an eyebrow at her sudden stop.

“If I tell you this, you must swear not to tell my grandmother, alright?”

‘I swear. I swear on Hylia herself.’

“That is not a promise I take lightly, Link.”

‘I know. That’s why I chose it.’

“The ancient Sheikah a thousand years ago let the Hylian royalty see these technological gifts. Even though the Sheikah had joined with them to defend Hyrule, the Hylians were frightened of them. Frightened of their magic, and technology, and closeness to the Goddess. The royal family destroyed Sheikah technology, pillaged their temples, destroyed villages, and gave my ancestors two options: abandon their culture and rebuild as shells of what they once were, or fight the royal family instead. Half took refuge, half stood their ground—of that half, only a handful of groups survived, the rest slaughtered by the royal family. Of the little factions that survived… they survived for one reason. They aligned themselves with Ganon in search of safety.”

Link met her eyes in the mirror. ‘The Yiga Clan?’

Paya nodded. There was a near terrifying fire in her eyes. “We have so little of our culture left, and with Ganon gaining strength, finding and excavating old settlements and temples are near impossible. All I want—all I want is to know who we once were. I want to eat their food, wear their clothes, sing their songs... I want to recite their prayers and show love to my Goddess the way they could. But can you imagine saying that to Cado? Dorian? I would be stained as a Yiga apologist, I would bring shame to my grandmother.

I want to be a priestess one day, but until then reciting these prayers every morning, watching over the guardian statues each night—that is the best I can do.”

She slid a final pin into Link’s hair and leaned over his shoulder to be cheek to cheek with him in the mirror. Her pale hair brought out the deep tan of her skin, or maybe her skin’s darkness made her white hair seem even brighter. It smelled heavily of Sheikah spices, sweet and spicy. Beside her, Link looked more elegant than he had ever seen himself. Bits of fringe had been braided and looped, hanging delicately from his scalp, and sections of his hair had been pulled up into a simple, elegant bun. Red snuck out through his golden hair, and for a moment Link was breathless.

‘Paya—Paya this is wonderful.’

Paya blushed. “It’s just a basic style, nothing special.”

‘Still, thank you.’

“Link…” Paya trailed off, teething her lower lip against her bottom teeth for a moment. The steady comfort her hands had held when she was styling his hair was gone, wrists now limp and nervous. “You don’t think I’m a Yiga sympathizer, do you?”

Link swung around so fast the Sheikah jumped.

‘Do you love your family?’

She nodded frantically and Link cut her off before she could continue.

‘Do you love your people? Do you love Hylia? Because last I checked, the Yiga hate all of these things. Your love for your history doesn’t make you anything like the people trying to destroy an entire damn continent. Understand?’

Paya sniffled, and Link realized with dismay that she was crying. He took careful hold of her cheeks and leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers. Paya let out a stuttering voice.

“You’re too kind for this kind of work.” She whispered. “You shouldn’t have to carry a sword on you back.”

Link leaned back and swiped away a tear with his thump. He smiled and Paya smiled back, a soft, genuine thing that caught in Link’s gut.

“Would you take me outside?” She said, and Link nodded. He stood, took her hand, and, after a hovering thought, left his sword inside the door. They thumped down the stairs to the guardian statues.

“Here!” She said, pulling him to the ground before one of the statues. Spell papers were lovingly pinned around its head like a crown, and offerings of pumpkin, carrots, and apples sat at its feet.

“This is a Dalpie. They are spirits that keep and tell secrets; if you keep them happy they will teach you information brought to them by the Goddess; if you insult them they will spill your secrets to the wind and turn Hylia’s opinion of you.”

Link nodded. His hand slipped into his trouser pocket where a bag of nuts he’d kept on his for the road sat. He spilled out the nuts at the Dalpie’s feet. Nothing happened to the statue, but a sudden warm, sweet smelling wind curled around Link, filling his nose, and Paya let out a contented sigh.

“They like you.” She crossed her legs and ran a gentle hand over the Dalpie’s carved face. “I wish grandmother and I could do more to help you. You do so much for everyone, and we sit back uselessly.”

‘You give me a bed to sleep in. You give me food to eat, bandages when I need them. That is more than enough.’

Paya frowned before taking his hand. “I’ll get you another pair of Sheikah clothes if you’d like. And find some better tasting foods for you than nuts and dried meats.”

She looked up to Link and he smiled.

---

Paya drafted him a map to Eldin in the morning, packed him his armor and a near pound of fireproof elixIr, and blushed when Link brushed a kiss against her cheek.

‘Thank you.’ He signed as he left her and Impa at the southern path out of Kakariko and down the road. Paya had pointed a short cut to him that wouldn’t be on most store-bought maps he might find before locating Eldin which stretched passed the base of Mount Lanayru, avoiding almost all the Lanayru wetlands. While Link would have been happy to have Mipha back with him, that first walk through the wetlands had been sweaty and filled with biting insects (which were, quite frankly, worse than the lizalfos) and Link had no desire to return.

The day forward was pleasant, and while Link knew he wouldn’t be making it completely to Foothill Stables until at least twilight tomorrow, he didn’t mind turning in early once the base of Mount Lanayru came into view. Paya had warned him not to get too close, as a lynel had been spotted there a few months back, so Link hoisted himself up in a tree to sleep. He undid his belt and looped it tight around his thigh and the branch he settled on, securing himself for the night, and ripped a piece of bread, seasoned with acorns and blue nightshade seeds, from the loaf Paya packed him. The girl was as close to a mother hen as you could get, sending him off with copious amounts of rations, everything from bread to rice cakes to salted meats, and Link savored the chance to eat rich food cooked with love instead of the hardtack and jerky he was bound to be stuck with soon.

The mountain kept catching his attention from the corner of his eye, and finally, Link put down the bread chunk to give it his full attention. Backlit by the setting sun, the jagged peak seemed to glow, deep purple radiating out to lavender kissed by the orange of the sunset. Link’s chewing slowed.

‘What in the--?’

A tendril of pale blue and jet black spiraled out from the top of the mountain and slowly weaved in and out of the darkening clouds. Link watched in awe as the dragon moved. It seemed to dance behind a backdrop of stars and sunset fireflies, and Link couldn’t tear his eyes from it, not even when it dipped behind the moon, and when he finally did sleep he dreamed he felt its icy breath on him.

Zelda is crying. With them being this high up on the mountain, the Princess standing in that freezing water, Link is sure the tears were freezing on her lashes.

“Please,” She murmurs, voice wavering with cold. If his calculations are right, the Princess’ icy elixir ran out over 12 minutes ago, but Zelda hasn’t told Link, hasn’t moved. Link learned enough about her over the past year to know that Zelda would rather freeze to death in this spring than admit that she had finally exhausted their last option. This trip to the Spring of Wisdom—it is their last hope.

She whispers something again, something Link does not quite catch, and Link’s stomach sinks. There are few people who can tell when Zelda cried; Urbosa, Revali, Impa… Link. After 16 years she had become wonderful at keeping her voice steady and her shoulders square, but Link knows her well enough to recognize the soft, gentle tremors coming through her voice, the wobbly stiffness of her posture.

Zelda takes a deep breath, but it falls apart before it can really begin. Link steps into the Spring, and the cold water is like a shot to the heart. Link already thinks the air up here is impossibly cold, but even with a chilly elixir the water feels like his whole being is being sucked out through the soles of his boots. He moves forward and places his hands on her shoulder. Hylia bless them, her skin is colder than ice. Zelda looks up.

‘We should go.’ He sighs, ‘you need another elixir, you’ll freeze to pieces up here.’

Zelda bit her lip and shook her head, droplets of half-frozen tears bouncing down her cheeks. “Not yet, not—”

‘I’m not leaving you out here after twilight,’ Link signs, eyes soft. Zelda was a good three inches taller than him, but here in the ice and snow she seemed tiny.

“No!”

Zelda shoves him back and slams the heel of her palms into her eyes. “I’m not going, you can’t make me.”

Link sighs. Usually covering her eyes like that was enough to send a fuming anger into his gut—everyone else took his voice from him, and she had no right to do the same—but now it just helped the sadness curling around his ribs. He wanted to promise her that they had plenty of time, that this wasn’t her last chance, that he believed in her but…

They didn’t have time for hope like that. Their effort was useful in other places. Link, Revali, and Urbosa had discussed training the Princess with a sword or working on nonbiological magic; Mipha had offered her services in training Zelda, but Zelda was adamant that only she could learn to unlock her Goddess given powers.

The said Princess’ shivering is getting stronger. Staying in freezing water like this without an elixir wasn’t safe. Link steps forward and softly pulled Zelda’s hands from her eyes.

‘We have to go. You’re going to get sick.’

“N-no.”

‘Don’t make me carry you.’'

Zelda scoffs. “You wouldn’t.” Link sighs swiped Zelda off the ground into his arms and started marching away from the Goddess statue to their things.

“Put me down!” Zelda squeals, squirming in his arms. “Fuck you! Put me down, damn it, Link—”

Link gently set her down on the bank of the Spring and pulls her cloak from her bag. She takes it, finally giving in to the cold and snuggling up in it, and Link’s palm comes to rest on her cheek. He leans forwards, holding her close and resting his head under her chin, and with a shudder, Zelda pulls him closer. Link doesn’t know if it was for warmth or comfort, but he accepts the hug either way.

Zelda pulls back and takes his hand. Her fingers are ice against his palm.

The treck back to the base of Mount Lanayru is silent, just the crunching of snow under two pairs of feet and the occasional shift of Zelda pulling her cloak closer around her—Link mentally kicks himself for not bringing more elixir—and the rest of the Champions are waiting for them. The snow begins to melt on Link’s hair and eyelashes, and Revali catches his gaze. The question is there, and Revali understands the answer at the sight of exhaustion under Link’s eyes.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense.” Daruk, hulking and speaking gently, tries to force his usual smile into the words, but they can all feel the desperation. Even in his constant optimism and high spirits, Daruk is becoming nervous, which was a frightening thing. “How’d things go up there on the mountain?”

Zelda’s voice catches in her throat, though only Link hears it. He squeezes her hand and she rips it away from him. She looks away from all of them as if meeting their eyes might burn her. Finally, the Champions turned their gaze to Link. He gave a soft shake of his head. Mipha gasps, then covers her mouth and apologizes for the outburst. Link has never seen this look on Daruk’s face before. It was a mix of grief, pity, and fear, and Zelda shrinks even more under it.

“So, you didn’t feel anything?” Revali asks, “No power at all?”

Zelda takes a step forward to her friend, opens her mouth as if to speak, and freezes. She can’t say anything, can’t bring her to, just finally lowers her head and shakes it.

“Then let’s move on.” Urbosa’s somber but unyielding confidence is enough to bolster most of the group. Daruk nods, holding his head a bit higher.

“You’ve done all you could.” She continues, coming forward to tilt Zelda’s face upwards in her warm, jeweled hands. “Feeling sorry for yourself won’t be of any help. After all, it’s not like your last shot was up there.”

Zelda looks like she wants to argue otherwise, but she holds her tongue.

“Anything could finally spark the power to seal Ganon away. We just have to keep looking for that thing.”

“That’s kind of you.” Zelda pulls herself from Urbosa’s grasp. “Thank you.” The words are heavy and dead.

“If I may—” Zelda’s head cocks to MIpha, who had been blending into the background for most of the conversations. “I thought you… well, I, uh, I’m not sure how to put it into words. I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you for a while, but I’ve never found the words. But I’ve been thinking about what I do when I’m healing. What usually goes through my mind. You see, what I think about is, is—”

Link sees her lips move but doesn’t hear her voice. It’s smothered out by an earsplitting roar that seems to both echo from far away and scream directly in their ears. The ground under Link’s feet shakes, cracks splitting across the ground. Something red and foul-smelling bubbles up and the Princess yelps as it spills across her bare foot and immediately burns, sending up the smell of burnt flesh. Urbosa pulls her back, nearly cocooning her in her arms. The air is too hot and too cold, thick with humidity and so thin Link can barely breathe. A smell permeates the air. Something strange. Something otherworldly. Something wrong.

There is a rush of air as Revali shot up into the sky, and Link watches him eagerly for any sign. The sky grows dark as he descends, stained red, purple, and black, magic twisting amidst the clouds.

“Is it…?” Mipha asks, and Revali gives a sharp nod.

“It’s here.” Urbosa’s voice is firm to the point of harsh, and her grip on Zelda tightens.

“This is it then,” Daruk says, squaring his massive shoulders, and Mipha brushes her hand against Revali’s.

“Are you sure?” She asks, and Revali’s voice is strict as he promises he is.

“It’s awake…” All eyes turn to the Princess who has further shrunk into Urbosa’s arms. “Ganon…” She is white as a sheet, so pale that the veins of her face were nearly visible, and Link can see his own reflection in her blown pupils. Her eyes are only a ring of green on a wide, terrified backdrop of black.

“Let’s stop wasting time!” Daruk says, his gruff voice and bold energy finally snapping the group out of their awe. “We’re going to need everything we got to take that thing down. Champions, to your Divine Beasts! Let’s show that swirling swine who’s boss. Link will need to meet Ganon head-on when we attack; this needs to be a unified assault. Little guy—” He smacks Link’s shoulder. “We need to get you to the castle. You can count on us for support.”

“Come, we need to go.” Urbosa says, fingers still curled around Zelda’s shoulders. “We need to get you someplace safe. Gerudo Town; Neikana and the Sheikah stationed there will protect you with their lives.”

“No!”

Urbosa blinks as Zelda shoves her off. “I’m not a child anymore. I may not be much use on the battlefield, but there must… there must be something I can do to help!”

“You can help by staying safe,” Urbosa says, reaching for her again, but Zelda pulls back. Link turns his eyes from the two of them and moves slowly to where Revali stood, staring up at the sky.

‘How bad is it?’ Link signs, and Revali glances between his eyes to his hands and back.

“The castle is covered in red and black—it doesn’t even resemble a castle anymore. But we’re going to change that.”

Link nods. ‘We are.’

“Your hair is wet.” Revali all but whispers.

‘It’s the snow.’

“The snow.”

Silence stretches between them, and finally, Link leans forward on his toes and places his forehead against the groove between Revali’s cheek and his forehead. Revali’s breath slows. When Link pulls back his eyes are soft as they soak in Link’s face, and Link wants to smile, but feels it like it would be inappropriate.

“That better not mean ‘goodbye’.” Revali brushes his fingertips over the braid in Link’s hair.

‘No.’ Link promises. ‘Just ‘I’ll see you soon.’’

Link turns back to the Princess, who watches him with wide, panicked eyes.

This is it. There is no stopping now. The Calamity was awake.

---

He was on Ternio Trail by midday and Cephla Lake by afternoon, His hands smelled, an unfortunate result of the korok he met crossing the trail. The little thing’s giggles and chirps were enough to draw Link’s attention from across the way, and when Link pushed the rock aside with his boot it leapt out with a sparkling grin.

“You found me,” it said in a langue that was frankly unlike anything Link had ever heard. His ability to understand the chirps always confused Link. He woke up with the knowledge in his head and he used it now as he thanked the korok for its seed, promised to deliver it to Hestu, and said goodbye, bowing low to it. Link didn’t know how a korok would react to disrespect. The little things were so sweet that he had no desire to find out.

Foothill stable appeared at the base of the steep trailhead, the lowest part before the being of the hike up into the maw of Death Mountain. There were less horses here—Link figured a burning road surrounded by lava wasn’t ideal for a horse ride—and instead the travelers look rugged and dark with soot. Instead of sitting around the fire, many sat around a water trough under a covered terrace, washing black and red dirt from their hands and filling their water skins. Link wrinkled his nose. He was not refilling his waterskin with water that dirty, thank you very much.

Link stepped inside, informed a worker he only needed food and water, not a bed, and sat down against the wall. The air carried a sickly sent to it, and Link decided it was the volcano. Sulfur and soot and burning—yes, definitely the volcano. He nodded in thanks when a man brought over a plate, sliding him a generous sum of rupees, and dug in. Venison cut to chunks, roasted on skewers till crispy, and marinated in something wonderfully spicy and smoky. Link tore off a piece with his teeth and licked his fingers clean. He should ask for the recipe. Link drank the water—warm with dust floating on top—with small sips, careful to savor it all.

“Good evening,” a worker said, taking his empty plate. She smiled at the sauce on his face and offered Link a handkerchief, “If you’re stopping at Foothill stable then you’re probably on your way to Goron City?”

Link nodded, wiping his hands.

“Yeah, I thought so. Hold on, buddy—are you going up the mountain dressed like that? This is why tourists get a bad rep. Do you have any fire elixir?”

‘A few bottles.’

“That’s good to hear. This place is sheer cliff after sheer cliff, and it gets so hot past the second marker that your skin will start burning off. So, elixirs are your dearest friend. I’d recommend making more here. The further up the mountain you go, the more expensive they are. And do you know how to use them?”

Link furrowed his brow. ‘You drink it?’

She let out a short, good natured laugh. “If you did that your clothes would have burned off by the first marker. Rub yourself and all your gear with them, with clothes and without.” She took his empty cup. “Throw a firetail lizard in with a monster part and you’ve got yourself an elixir if you ever need more.” She said and gave him a crooked smile. “Best of luck, kid.”

Link swiped his bag up and moved out of the stable towards the pond he had seen out back. A Goron raised a massive hand in greeting and Link returned the gesture. Maybe he could ask the Goron about the track up later.

Cephla lake, he quickly realized, was not a pond, but a wide, warm expanse of water that stretched for miles, but a good 30 minute walk along the shore he found a cove, a small crescent moon surrounded by walls and trees and rocks that no one would be able to see from the outside. Perfect.

Link pulled two bottles of fireproof elixir from the bag, then shed his boots, sock, trousers, tunic—all of it. He poured elixir all over his clothes, working it into the seems and stitches, then turned to himself once he was contented.

The fireproof elixir tingled, stinging once first applied then leaving that patch of skin numb. Link covered himself as thoroughly as he could, taking extra care for his face and hands, then laid out on the lake shore to dry.

“There’s a perfectly good room at the inn—you couldn’t do all this there?”

Link cracks open an eye and shifts his head to see Revali leaning against one of the trees lining the crescent pond.

‘You didn’t have to come and find me.’ Link sits up, turning to face Revali all the way. ‘Besides—aren’t you enjoying the view?’

Revali splutters and his eyes went wide, the red feather markings on his cheeks proofing, and Link laughs.

‘Hand me my pants.’ He signs, and Revali balls them up and thrusts them towards him, keeping his eyes turned away from Link and his bare skin. Link slides on his trousers, and as he’s lacing them up he glances over his shoulder. Revali’s stance is tight and he’s preening the feathers of his wrists and arms, a sign he is genuinely anxious. Link’s stomach sinks.

‘Sorry.’ He signs, ‘You can leave.’

Revali’s eyebrows twitch higher. He picks up the rest of Link’s clothes and brings them over, kneeling at Link’s side.

“Arms up.” He says, voice ever elegant, and Link does do. Revali untangles Link’s undershirt from the pile of clothes and pulls it over Link’s head. It catches a bit and Revali has to pull down harder, leaving them face to face. Revali clicks his tongue at the sight of Link’s hair and fluffs the locks back into place. He lowers his arm and Link finds he cannot take an eye off of him or make himself look away. He swallows. Revali doesn’t move back.

‘How… how exactly do Rito kiss?’

Revali face puckers, clearly not expecting the question. “We don’t have a kiss. You need lips for that.”

‘I know, I just thought…’

Revali sighs. ‘We do have one way of showing affection between… between lovers. It is far less disgusting than any Hylian kissing. No distribution of germs or—” He stops himself, pulling the sentences back on track. “You rest your foreheads together, head tilted to rest on the side of the other’s cheek”

Link swallows and leans even closer. ‘Like—like this?’

He presses his face against Revali’s. It’s awkward, and Link is fairly positive he’s doing it wrong, but he presses their foreheads together and nestles his cheek on the side of Revali’s cheek, and breathes him in. He smells like bear fat bow polish, like nutcakes and berries, like cold air and snowflakes reflecting in feathers, like home. He pulls back and Revali stops him, wraps an arm around his bare waist and holds him there. Revali lets out a soft breath. It tickles Link’s neck, and Link moves from his place against Revali’s face to his shoulder, burying his face in the blue feathers.

Revali finally moves back, sitting on his heels, and clears his throat. “Yes. Like that.”

Link finally found himself back in reality feeling cold as stone despite the heat and drenched in sweat.

(‘Like this?’

“Like that.”)

He dressed as quickly as he could and all but ran back to the stables.

---

The memory lingers in the back of Link’s head the rest of the day. He reached up a hand to brush against his forehead—he swore he could still feel Revali’s feathers on his elixir slick skin. The thought made Link blush. Did Revali remember it too? Likely. But the question, Link thought, was whether the Rito liked this ‘new’ Link presented to him. How different was Link from his past self? Link didn’t know, and frankly he didn’t want to. Dwelling on something like that would drive him mad.

Link’s eyes flicked to the map. With Lake Ferona behind him, Gero Pound should be just around the next few corners. He had bumped into a Goron named Boldon once he left the stable, an ambassador of tourism for Goron City who had pressed that Link avoids the path between Ferona and Intenoch, but that was the path Paya had written up for Link, and Link trusted her. He pocketed his map and began to haul himself up a piece of rock that cut off the road. It had been knocked down artificially, not naturally. Link could see scorch marks across the stone, the same kind of marks that littered the ground. Most likely a bokoblin with bomb arrows. Link rolled his shoulders and dropped down over the rock.

It was not a bokoblin with bomb arrows.

The guardian was at least nine feet tall, the dust from black lava rock dusting its joints, and as it slithered around it clicked, and tick-tick-ticking sound that Link knew, deep in his bones.

Watching them click around with the Princess—

Link found himself frozen, unable to run despite how much he wanted to—

A beam of light, fire, and electricity catching him in the chest as he raises the Master Sword and tries to swipe off a leg—

The mechanical thing seemed to finally realize he was there, red-blue eye turning on him—

Fast, how were they so damn fast? The Princess’ wrist is slick in his hand and—

Link’s legs trembled, the only part of him able to move.

Everything hurt; bloody foam dripped from between his lips as Zelda struggles to put out the sparks on his tunic. Burns seared across his body, curling and charring the skin, and the electricity left spasms moving from his chest wound out to the tips of his fingers and toes—

Bright, golden light. The air is warm and smells of life. The clicking stops. Zelda is ethereal, holiness pouring from her in waves, and Link knows if he is to die this way isn’t so bad. Not if she is here—

The clicking turned to beeping as the guardian prepared its strike, and the sound finally knocked Link to the present. He rolled out of the way just in time for a laser to shoot out and drew his sword. The guardian’s mechanical head turned to him. Link had never seen anything more terrifying than its electric eyes.

‘Focus’, he reminded himself, ‘he had to focus.’

Link didn’t know how to fight a guardian but the man from a hundred years ago did, and Link let muscle memory take control. He rolled forward, dodging another blast, and his sword snapped open, smashing into a leg. The metal groaned under the weight, and a second snap was enough to crunch through it. Sparks flew as the leg snapped, knocking the guardian back, exposing a red belly, and Link lashed out at the bottom mechanics.

The outside of the guardian cracked and spluttered, but the guardian managed to right itself and send out a volley of lasers. One hit a little too close for comfort and Link’s sword dropped as he let go to cover his face with his arms.

Now defenseless, the terror from before was back, and Link shuffled back towards his weapon. The click-beep of the guardian’s eye picked up and fired before he could reach his sword. Link moved without thinking; his shield jutted out, striking the laser, and parried the light back into the guardian’s face.

The guardian squealed, electricity coursing through it, and Link took the time to shove back into it, knocking it back enough to expose its belly and the wires and gears underneath. He ripped through them, sending out spittle of sparks, and Link rammed the exposed underbelly, slamming the guardian to the ground on its back. Its legs flailed like an overturned beetle. With another few strikes, Link cut further into the belly of the beast, and the guardian finally spluttered at went still.

Link stepped back, panting. He couldn’t believe he had frozen like that—that was pathetic. Hero’s didn’t fold at the face of a new foe. Even if—even if…

He cant bring himself to open his eyes—breathing is painful, thinking is painful, existing is fucking painful, but he can feel the Princess’ head atop his bleeding, spasming chest, tears dripping into the open wounds. He raises a hand and places it on her golden head, skin still warm with heavenly power. Her breath hitches and his hand slides down, too weak to hold it up—

100-year-old exhaustion shook through Link and he sat in the dust, put his head between his knees, and breathed, low and slow. He could breathe. He could breathe, and he was alive.

After what felt like hours but was likely thirty minutes, Link brushed off his trousers and stood. The shell of the guardian blocked the road, but Link didn’t have the strength to move it. That would have to be someone else’s problem. He sidled past the guardian and further up the road.

The smell of sulfur became stronger with each step, and when he passed the bubbling hot spring surrounding Gero Pond he felt sure that the waters could hard boil an egg. He considered dipping one of his in there just to be sure, but eggs were expensive and hard to find in the wild, so instead he crept around the waters, careful to stay dry and keep his elixir from washing off, before coming to the far side of the pond. His throat burned from the increasingly hot air, and the soot drifting around the air caused regular coughing hits. His eyes stung and he hadn’t even seen any lava yet.

Link was beginning to doubt Paya’s map. She had mentioned climbing up a ‘small incline’, which Link had promised that he was more capable of climbing. This, this was not a small incline. The sheer cliff face toward up a good twenty or so feet, and some of the rock looked… lose? Link realized that was because the rock wasn’t solid stone but half-melted stone bubbling on the verge of lava. Link swallowed tightened his core and began to climb.

He was barely ten feet up when the heat really hit. Somehow Link hadn’t noticed it build; maybe it hadn’t built at all, with Link’s elixir keeping the true heat back for the last hour of hiking and only now giving out to the air. It burned, the heat crawled up and down his throat, and Link almost lost his grip as his chest spasmed with gagging coughs, spitting up black soot with what little water was left in him. His ears rang, pulsing as clangs and bangs echoed in his chest and head.

With a groan he finally pulled himself over the edge of the cliff, flopping down to take measured, heated breaths. After catching his breath, he looked up from the floor to cavern around him. He could see the cause of the banging now; the cavern’s walls were lined with Gorons smashing into the rock. One saw him and smiled, waving with a grin. Link gave a weak wave back as he wheezed, hands on his knees, and the Goron laughed.

“Struggling a little there, brother?” He said as he walked up, and it took all of Link’s effort not to glare back.

“Don’t worry, most Hylians have the same troubles. Proper flamebreaker armor will help; you can buy it in Goron City—it’ll cost ya a pretty penny, but it’ll help those lungs o’ yours.”

Link nodded, finally righting himself, and the Goron looked at him with pure pity.

“I’ll tell you what—some Hylian came this far, decided Death Mountin’ wasn't worth it, and booked it. Still got hm’ armor if you want it.”

Link nodded, whole head rattling, and the Goron laughed. “Then I’ll do so, lil’ brother.”

‘What’s your name?’ Link finally signed, ‘So I can thank you properly.’

“No thanks needed! It’s nice to have visitors during this trying time. The name’s Grayson.”

‘Link.’

The flamebreaker was heavy, bulky, and ugly. Still, Link welcomed the hot metal if it meant he could breathe again. Grayson helped him with the screws and as the helmet finally secured on, Link took a deep, deep inhale. The air was warm but sootless, and Link could cry in gratitude. Grayson insisted against it.

“Life has been hard with the Lizard running around. Doing good feels good.”

‘Lizard?’ Link signed. Grayson nodded.

“It’s been selling lava and rocks down practically every day. Gottin’ so close the Goron City that I left. Not worth it.”

Link nodded slowly. It must be Vah Rudania.

‘Well, if all goes to plan, it’s be gone in the next few days.’ He signed, and the Goron’s eyes widened.

“You’re not saying you’re getting close to that thing, are ya’?” Link nodded. “Din above, it’ll smash ya! But if you do calm it down, I swear my next month of rocks will be yours, all of it.”

‘That’s not necessary—’

“For you, it sure as hell is.”

Link blushed, thankful it was hidden by the flamebreaker’s helmet. A giant lizard climbing a mountain. How hard could it be? No worse than the others.

The ground began to shake. The smell of sulfur became stronger and soot and rock began to fall from the cavern ceiling.

“The wall—“ Grayson called to Link as he ran, “—get to a wall!”

Link stared in a mix of awe and confusion as the cavern’s ceiling split. Lava and soot and rock began to rain down, rock smashing into the cavern’s cave system, smashing it to bits, while lava rolled over the open cracks like a waterfall, soot settling across everything the lava touched. Link could hear a scream-squeal. Vah Rudania calling out. He stepped back from the lava and shook some sense into himself, bolting for a wall to safety.

A rock smashing into the ceiling just meters away from Link, spraying hot rock, and if not for the armor Link was sure he would be dead. The rock exploded and pinned Link down, the melting, sizzling rock pressing down on one leg.

Link struggled to free his left leg but the stone rose up to the thigh, pinning him down tight. He tried to slow his breathing, tried not to hyperventilate—another rock sprayed down over him. He wheezed, pain rippling from his thigh to the other pieces of himself pinned, and a third rock dropped. It missed him by a few feet but the shattered rock flung out towards him—a chunk of rock the size of a cucco struck him in the side of the head and everything went black.

Chapter Text

“Little guy!”

Link does not look away from the fire lizalfos in front of him. That is rule number one his father taught him from the moment he picked up a sword. Never take your eyes off the enemy. Link hasn’t seen much of his father since the man was appointed general of the royal guard—which is, if he is being honest, a bit of a blessing. Rassan is as strict a father as he is a drill sergeant, and the enforcement of the rules of his home is often worse than the bruises from Link's practice spars. Ever since he left home Link days were filled with worry of what life would be like of Aryll. The girl is too sweet for her own good, and one of these days that is going to bite her in the ass.

One of the fire lizalfo pulls back and belches out a stream of fire. Link rolls out of the way, using the momentum to pull himself into a standing position and a leap forward.

“I’ve gotcha little guy, just—”

Link lops the lizalfo’s head off. There is a spray of black blood as the body drops and the three other lizalfos give Link a wary look until the Goron speaking charges in, stone crusher drawn, sliding in front of Link across the rocks. Link raises his sword and the lizalfos swivel at the newly presented target. Their throats swell with fire and Link throws himself in front of the Goron, sliding his sword into the guts of one, sending colorful intestine slipping out when he removes his sword, and spins, catching the neck of the second and slamming it to the ground with a crack.

He forgets about the third lizalfo, forgetting rule fucking one, and the Goron shouts a warning—Link slices the overgrown lizard from throat the navel.

The thing slides to the ground and Link wipes the black blood from his face. When he opens his eyes the Hylian women the lizalfos had been targeting lay on the ground, cowering behind a rock, her two children pressed against her chest. She looks at him with horror. He offers a hand to help her up and she recoiled at the bloody skin.

‘Everything’s fine now.’ Link signs, ‘You’re safe.’

The woman doesn’t take his hand, mumbles a thank you for saving her fucking skin, and hobbles away down the path towards the base of Death Mountain. Link watches her slip down and the Goron steps up to him, leaning on the hilt of his stone crusher, watching the woman walk away.

“Well,” he says, “She’s certainly polite.”

Link snorts and the Goron turns to look at him. He has a face that might have been carved from stone, but it was kind, made of chiseled skin and a white, stiff beard.

“Daruk,” he says, offering a great hand, and Link takes it. Daruk’s handshake is crushing but his smile is blinding. “You’re pretty handy with that sword, little guy.” He grins, and the smile is infectious.

The Goron suggests a shared meal up on the mountain, and Link can’t help but agree.

---

Link woke to hot metal and hot, hot air. Someone had removed his helmet and his face reeked of fireproof elixir. Rock hard but gentle fingers ran through his hair, and Link groaned as he opened his eyes. A Goron pushed back his bangs to apply a bandage to a cut on his head, and when his rough hands pulled back on Link’s braid, Link’s hand shot up to pull the hand aside.

“He’s awake!” The Goron said with a chuckle, and Link sat up, ignoring the pain in his head.

“Give him his helmet back.” Link heard someone grunt from across the room. “I’m not using up any more of my fireproof elixir stock.”

The Goron hovering above him, whom Link now realized was Grayson, helped Link back into the helmet.

“Show a little compassion, Rogaro.” He said, and the Goron across the room—Rogaro—huffed, but it was not ill-natured.

Link realized he was in the backroom of a shop, inventory scattered across the place in organize chaos and a store from visible through an open door. A gentle clearing of the throat turned Link’s eyes back to the room, over to a Gerudo woman. Her dark skin shone with sweat and she uncrossed her legs.

“Ramella,” She said, offering her hand. “None of them were sure how to treat Hylian wounds so they offered a good pay if I made sure you weren’t concussed with brain swelling or something.”

‘How kind.’ Link signed, smirk clear in his fingers, and Ramella laughed. Her short red hair had been slicked back tight against her scalp and her headscarf, a thin, blue delicate thing, hung heavy with fireproof elixir.

“You flatter, Hylian.”

Link finally sat up and swung his legs over the stone slab bed. His head ached, but not unbearably so, and Link knew it was something he could live with.

‘You wouldn’t happen to know how to reach your…leader?’

“Oh, Bludo?” Rogaro said over his shoulder, already having moved back to his storefront. “Don’t worry ‘bout being all fancy with him, he’ll hate it. Probably helping clear rocks from the lizard near the main bridge. Just follow the path and you’ll find him, big beard, very loud. Easy to spot.”

Grayson nodded. “Take no offense if he gets 'shouty'. It’s how he shows he likes you. Or dislikes you. Once you hear it’s easy to tell.”

Link thanked them for their help as Rogaro shuffled him out, insisting he spend no more time loitering on his property unless he buys something, and stepping out opened him up to a bridge. It ran over a pit of softly bubbling lava, Gorons meandering about on homely cut metal, and Link didn’t dare jump over onto the rail—too big a change of tumbling into lava. Instead, he followed the river down to the beginning of the bridge.

The metal wasn’t crafted to be pretty but it still held a certain charm to it that things made with love always did. Link reached the far end of the bridge and stepped onto the metal plating. He looked up, out, and over across the town for the first time.

Goron City was, first and foremost, a tourist town. Simple carved homes lined the cliff sides, leaving room for storefronts selling all sorts of paraphernalia and nick-knacks. Some sold roasted foods and meats for tourists to try, and beside one building a portion of wall had been left open for a climbing wall, fireproof gifts sitting on a table before it.

But despite all this, the streets were anxious and filled with cluttered energy. Link walked down the bridge and rocks; huge volcanic rocks had crushed houses, businesses, and left new streams of lava as it shattered the edge of the river. Vah Rudania had smashed down into Goron City, and Link didn’t doubt it would get worse and worse if he didn’t stop her as soon as possible.

The sky made a rough sound, like water boiling, and that was the only warning Link had before the sky began raining volcanic rock.

The air filled with shrieks from rock homes straining under the pressure, and the lava splashed up onto the bank and onto the bridge as rocked slammed into it. Link dropped to the ground, curling into a ball, and held his breath as the rocks finally slowed to a. stop. With shaky feet, he stood and glanced around. The city creaked under the weight of the smashed rocks.

Fuck.

Yells came from the edge of the river and Link ran across the bridge to the—rocks had crushed an entire house. Luckily the family seemed safe, but their home was nothing but rumble. A group of Gorons moved to remove the rocks, and ordering them was a short, rough Goron with a wild beard and a harsh face.

“Careful!” Bludo said. “Don’t break the house anymore than it is! I’m not afraid to throttle anyone who causes any more damage.”

There was a chorus of ‘yes sirs!’ and Bludo sighed.

“Damn lizard,” He murmured, and even when his voice was quiet it felt rough as sandpaper.

He put his massive hands on his hips, joints creaking, and narrowed his eyes at Link.

“Hey, tourist, you’ve got some muscle on you—get over here and help.”

Link blinked and Buldo jutted out his chin at him. “Don’t make me ask twice, kid!”

Link nodded and scrambled over the smaller rocks to most of the rubble. The stone groaned under the shifting weight of the collective Gorons, and Link gave an affirmative smile to the closet one, sliding his fingers under the stone shard. They lifted, though Link was fairly sure the Goron hadn’t needed his assistance in the slightest. None of them seemed to really need him, but helping seemed the polite thing to do and Buldo didn’t strike him as the best man to disappoint. By time the floor of the crushed house was visible Link was dripping sweat inside his armor. The metal didn’t breathe, making the inside humid and sticky, but Link was pretty sure that was better than the constant reapplying of fireproof elixir or, hell, going up in flames. Link had a feeling at would, for lack of a better phrase, fucking suck.

He flopped down onto the sizzling ground and the Goron who’d been working with him sat down as well.

“Nice work, brother. For a Hylian.”

Link laughed, and it echoed in his helmet. ‘For a Hylian.’

“For a Hylian.”

‘How long has Death Mountain been acting like this? With the rocks and such?’

The Goron clicked his tongue. “A month I suppose. Ever since the lizard woke up; it feels longer, what with how bad it’s been getting’”

“Gilb!”

The Goron—newly dubbed Gilb—‘s head jerked up as Buldo called his name.

“Grab the shovel with Prisdon and scrap this all up into the river. I swear we’ll make an island in there soon.”

“Good one, sir!” He called, running off somewhere to get out a shovel with a comically large spade, and Buldo just grumbled in reply. Something almost fond poked out under the rude sound, and Link helped himself to his feet.

‘Are you Mr. Bludo, sir? My name is—'

“I’m not mister anybody, kid. And slow down with your hands, my eyes ain’t what they used to be.”

‘My name is Link. And your welcome, for helping with the rocks and all.’

“Don’t give me any snark now. You come through my gate; you pull your weight. Huh. Rhymed a little.” He rolled his head to the side, eyes squeezed shut, and Link could hear the ‘pop’ as his neck cracked, one vertebra after another. A sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh hissed through his teeth, and Link’s hand reached to his belt for the fairy tonic he kept hooked there.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just some pops, just part of gettin’ old. Kid like you doesn’t get that. Yes, alright, my name’s Bludo. I’m the great Goron Boss who’s fearsome enough to silence a crying child—or make a silenced child cry, either way. And don’t go on calling me ‘boss’ or other bull; this town is purely democratic, I’m just the figurehead for now. Suppose it’s foolish o’ me to assume a tourist looked up anything about our culture than the best lava flow viewpoints.”

‘With the most do respect, sir, I’m not a tourist; I’m here to—’

“Fuck. What my luck. Can't seem to squeeze any tourists through those gates anymore. With the damn lizard runnin’ wild recently, Death Mountain’s eruptions have gotten real bad. Didja know that they used to say that thing protected us 100 years ago? Bah! That was then and this is now. Now all it does is muck up our tourist organizations—we’re all suffering! No one can do business, homes are getting’ smashed; it’d be better off if the damn thing just fell right into Death Mountain.”

‘I did know.’

Buldo blinked. “What?”

‘That Vah Rudannia used to be a protector. She was manned by Champion Daruk a hundred years ago against the Calamity.’

Buldo snorted and crossed his arms. “Little boy did his research.”

Link wrinkled his nose. ‘I’m a hundred and 17, I’m not ‘little’ anything.’

“Huh,” Buldo said. “Well, you make a damn good 117.” 

‘Thank you. But I mean to say that I can help soothe her, bring back your tourists, all that.’

“Thank’s but no thanks. You seem nice and all but I’ve got this all under control.”

Link spluttered. ‘Under control? You call that rock shower under control?’

“Don’t raise your voice at me! …Hands at me? This is the first successful attack in ages, the only reason the lizard got so close is that I haven’t had the chance to beat it back in a few days.

‘B.. beat her back?’

“See, newbie, I know what I’m doing. Got a canon that I use to send it squealing back to the top of the volcano. Just been—been a bit busy these past few days to get up there.”

Link raised an eyebrow.

“Bein’ boss ain’t exactly the easiest job, alright?”

‘I thought you said being boss was—’

“Forget anything I said! I just—”

“Boss?” A younger Goron said from behind him.

“—Mean to say—”

“Boss?”

“That—”

“Boss?”

“What—ACH!” Buldo let out something between a groan and a squeak as he turned over his shoulder and Link could hear the sharp crack of his spine.

“Sorry, Boss, sorry, sorry—”

Buldo brushed the Goron off and brushed Link’s offered fairy tonic away.

“Not enough for our big bones.” He grunted, still frozen painfully in place. “Thanks though, kid.”

 “Uh, I went to check on Yunobo since it’s about time for your medicine but it turns out we—you?—were out of any so I think he went out to the Northern Mine, but you said no one should go there unauthorized so I was going to get you to come and get him and… I guess… yeah.”

Buldo breathed in sharply through his nose and let it out soft. “Thank… you… for telling me. Now go do something nice and useful while I go get him, okay?”

The Goron nodded, though somewhat warily, and returned further into town. Buldo gritted his teeth and slowly untwisted his back.

‘I’ll go find him.’ Link signed as soon as the Goron boss’ breathing returned to normal.

“Listen—”

‘With ultimate respect, that looked like it hurt like hell. Let me go, and in return, you show me how you’ve been beating back Vah Rudania, okay? I’m dying to know.’

“…Fine.

Link smiled as big as he could. ‘Of course!’

---

The heat was getting worse. Link’s skin might be protected by elixir treated metal but he could feel the fire in his lungs. A strange, ostrich-like bird squawked as it saw him, and Link watched in awe as its maroon feathers bounced, not even the slightest bit singed. It was easy to imagine Death Mountain as a baren, lifeless fiery wasteland but the trek to the Northern Mine was filled with life. A sign demanding tourists keep out was weighed down by a few of the most beautiful butterflies Link had ever seen. Their black wings were painted with red swirls, like smoke rising off flame, and Link yelped as his fingertips brushed a wing.

The heat wasn’t enough to melt through the metal gloves but the steel sizzled, and the smootherwing butterfly shuddered for a moment before fluttering up and off into the air. Link looked at the soot mark. The soft swirls of the winds had been left behind on the metal in lines of soot, and after a moment of marveling at the design Link wiped it away.

The rocks underfoot began to break into smaller pebbles and dust, and Link slid, struggling to keep his balance, and stumbled around a corner to a bubbling lake of glowing orange and gold.

The heat of the lava was mostly held back by the metal armor but the smell of sulfur was overwhelming. Link gagged, pressing his lips together. The click-click-clicks of lizalfos carried across the lava lake and Link narrowed his eyes, squinting through the dust and ash. He hadn’t realized lizalfos could even handle the heat of Death Mountain. With careful steps he moved forward, picking through the black, rocky ground. Through the haze he could pick out a collection of rocks jutting out from the lava. Bits of them had been crushed and moved away—likely remnants from a time where Goron City based its economy on hidden gems instead of tourist attractions. Link moved closer to the lava, and it bubbled just inches from his toes. A thin, worn path of stone zigzagged from rock to rock across the lava. WIth a swallow Link set off down it, keeping his feet in a painfully straight line. The careful steps were interrupted almost instantly by the whizz of fletching and the explosive sizzle of a volley of fire arrows.

Link yelped and jerked back, almost sliding into the boiling lake, and jerked his head around. There, a few hundred meters to his left, was a chittering group of lizalfos, at least six. Link had never seen such red-orange scales on a lizalfos before. He took off running down the path as a lizalfo readied another arrow. Revali’s bow was wood—Link hadn’t been willing to risk it burning away so it had been left behind in town, smothered in elixir and in the safe care of Grayson, meaning he had no way of attacking an enemy that far away. Running was the best he could do. He dove behind a rock formation, lava lapping at his feet, and was surprised when his back hit a ladder. He hadn’t noticed it-- but then, in this steam, it was impossible to notice anything. He hoisted himself up on the rungs, over the lip of the rock, and rolled right into the base of some kind of machine with a clang.

Link groaned and sat up. Before him was a hunk of twisted and bolted metal, easily as tall as a man. There was a standing platform flanked by a giant leaver and attached to the front was a cylinder, lined in ash and scrapped to hell.

Link hadn’t seen anything quite like it, but right now all that mattered was the fine cover it made. There was a rush of heat as another arrow crashed into the stone nearby, and Link cursed. He’d just have to drop back down and hightail it to the lizalfo, see if he could pumble into submission. Unless—he could see if he could throw a bomb far enough to blow it into the lava. But, no, there was no way it could cross the lake. The structure shuddered as another fire arrow slammed into it and Link jerked back and into the leaver. It slid smoothly to the side and the contraption moved to the right, facing directly at the rockface where the lizalfo drew another arrow. The mouth of the cylinder lined up perfectly with the chunks blown out of the rock.

It must be a mining instrument, Link realized. Pawing underneath it he found a fuse, coated with something thick and strange to keep it from burning, and Link looked up through the barrel of what he now realized was the largest, ugliest cannon he had ever seen.

Link drew a bomb with a shimmer of blue and slid it into the barrel of the gun. He drew his knife from his belt and scrapped the gel from the fuse and scooted back. One, two—

The cannon jolted backward and a ball of blue shot forward, ripping the lizalfos apart into a splatter of red and black. The canon rumbled as it cooled and came to a stop, and Link couldn’t tear his eyes from the soot-stained spot that six lizalfos used to be. There and then… gone.

Goddesses, this thing was fucking amazing.

As the dust settled Link made out another sound that had been muffled by the lizalfos yapping and fire arrows. Was that… crying?

Link sat up and looked around. There was no one, just rock formations and, at the edge of the lava lake, a crumpled mass of rock. But sure enough, a cry was beginning to echo across the lake.

Link hopped off the rock pillar and looked around. Pillars, rock, the melting corpses of the lizalfos, and a pile of broken rock, likely from a rock slide that could have been caused by a volley of fire arrows. The cry came out again and Link crept towards the rock slide. The sounds coming from inside were muffled by the stone, but Link could hear begging inside.

With the point of his knife, Link began to pick away at the rocks and the voice behind the rocks hitched.

“Leave me alone!” It moaned, “Go away—go away..”

Link pulled another rock free, creating a hole big enough to crawl through, and the voice yelped at the new light. There was a flash of red and orange, a faint hum, and Link blinked, eyes adjusting to the new light.

A Goron curled on the ground, incased by a sphere of light. He muttered something about monsters, voice growing increasingly higher, and Link leand forward to touch him. The sphere flashed and sent Link flying back into the pile of rocks, and the Goron looked up over his shoulder.

“You’re not a monster.” He near whispered, and Link groaned, peeling himself off the rock. The Goron gasped.

“Oh no, oh no, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

‘Don’t—don’t worry.’ Link was sure he’d be bruised for weeks, but he gave a shaky smile to the Goron

The Goron stood, the flickering light fading around him. He towered, massive body casting a shadow over Link. His arms were giant, and his neck was so thick it was nearly nonexistent. He was round as a barrel filled to bursting, covered from neck to calf in muscle, and his deep voice didn’t match the pitiful cries he had been letting out. Most interesting of all, however, was the blue bolt of fabric tied snuggly around his neck. Link knew that color of blue, knew those designs— that belonged to a Champion. Huh.

“Where you the one who broke through the rock to rescue me? Oh, thank you, I thought I might be stuck in here for good… but, uh, the Northern Mines aren’t safe for a Hylian—you really shouldn’t be here.”

‘I’m looking for Yunobo.’

“Oh! That’s me, goro, So that’s it—I beat Boss told you to come and get me. He’s so nice.”

Link wouldn’t have stuck the word ‘nice’ to Buldo, but the Goron—Yunobo—seemed genuine. It was kind of sweet.

“Well, I’m awful thankful, sir. I’m Yunobo, but my friends call me, uh. Yunobo.”

‘Link.’

“That’s a wonderful name! So vintage. I came to pick up Boss’ painkillers, but the lizard things attacked and then a magma bomb triggered a rock slide and I’ve been stuck here hoping someone noticed. But of course, Boss noticed, he’s super observant like that.” Yunobo smiled, and Link decided it looked quite good on the Goron.

“How’d you even get over here with all those lizards, goro?”

‘With one of the mining cannons.’

“Really? I’ve never seen anyone but Boss use them. You must have the heck of a lot of arm muscle. But, uh, this isn’t really the place to talk. With all of Vah Rudania’s stomping around the rocks here have become pretty unsteady. Thanks for the help, Link, but I can handle my way back.”

‘I was heading the same direction. Might as well go together.’

A wave of relief washed over Yunobo’s face. “Yeah, alright, that—that sounds good.” Yunobo slid down the rocks with surprising ease, and Link figured he likely didn’t feel them scrape against him with his thick skin, and Yunobo plucked Link off of the rocks as if he weighed nothing more than a cucco.

”I’m sure Boss’ll be real thankful. He sounds gruff but I promise he just cares too much. And he makes really good rock custard to welcome new friends. That’s what we are, right? New friends?”

Link gave a sharp nod. ‘Friends.’

“Oh, thank Hylia,” Yunobo said, voice growing almost shrill. “Sometimes I don’t ask and just sort of assume, and then people get upset and then they get mean, and I’m not very good at handling mean people, so I get upset, and they laugh, and it’s all terribly embarrassing—”

Link patted his hand on Yunobo’s bicep—something that required quite a bit of standing on his tiptoes—and tried to give as comforting smile as he could. Hopefully, he wasn’t showing too many teeth. He became embarrassingly aware that usually this situation was flipped, with Sidon or Saki effortlessly soothing his, frankly, a little pathetic, worries and Link soaking up the positive affirmations. Now, with Link supposed to brighten the situation, he felt hyper-aware of just how rusty his people skills were.

‘You shouldn’t have to get reassurance that someone’s your friend. Don’t feel like you need to ask, the people that respect you will make it known. Nothing serves a better foundation than mutual trust.’

Yunobo nodded. He plucked at the hem of his blue neckerchief, and Link couldn’t take his eyes off of it. There, embroidered in white, was Vah Rudania, clear as day. It didn’t make sense—that should have been on Daruk the day he went up into Rudania for the final time. Could it be a recreation?

‘So, Yunobo, where did you get your neckerchief? It’s a lovely shade of blue.’

Yunobo light up. “You really think so? There’s no real point in keeping fabrics up here, they burn so fast and the color fades even with fireproof elixir, but this one was specially treated for volcanic life. That lizard there in white, that’s Vah Rudania. She’s a mechanical lizard that lives up on the mountain. My grandfather piloted her!”

Link jerked to a stop. ‘Daruk is your grandfather?’

“You know him!? I just mean that, you know, most non Gorons don’t know much about our culture, goro. History? Which one would that be?”

‘Either. Both, I guess?’

“Ah. Alright!”

‘But, Daruk, you were saying—’

“Oh? Right, right, well, Grandad Daruk was real broad. He could pick up mining shafts and crushers heavier than ten Gorons could, and he always kept the mines clear of monsters; even a lynel would go running at the sight of him! ‘Course this was back when Goron City was a real mining town, not a campy tourist stop. And he told the best bedtime stories—wait, no, sorry, goro. You don’t wanna hear about those parts.”

‘I do! I absolutely do. Yunobo I would rather hear about that than any mineshaft he cleared out.’

“Well, when I was small, my parents would stay out late at the Southern Mine helping to re-enforce the mine rails across the lava lakes. So, Grandpa Daruk would lay down with me on the bed and squeeze me and tell me all about the things that lived in Death Mountain when nobody was looking—like lava sirens and magma wolves and fish made of fire. When I still believed in them we’d go on adventures to try and find them, and after I was all tired out, we would eat rocks in the glow of the lake… I know I’m grown up now and a hundred years is a long time, but… I miss him.”

Link bit his lip. The bridge creaked under their weight as they passed back into the city.

“They made a statue of him, sorta to look down on the city as a protector, you know, goro? I’m on it, actually, sitting on his arm. See?”

Yunobo pointed with one beefy arm to a hunk of rocks Link hadn’t noticed on his first entrance. It was crudely carved but obviously made with care: a giant Goron with wild hair and a wilder beard holding a young, grinning child in his hands. Link couldn’t tear his eyes away from the Goron’s face.

Daruk would have loved having a statue of himself carved into a wall, if only to poke at Revali for not having one.

Link’s breath caught in his throat. He could hear Daruk’s gravelly voice in his head.

Vah Rudania rumbles under Link’s feet. Her clawed foot slams into the rock of Death Mountain, crushing the rocks underneath, and Daruk whoops as an ore deposit flings up into the air.

“Dinner!” He shouts over to Link, and Link laughs.

‘Only if you’re willing to crawl down there.’

“For a diamond? Anything.”

Daruk moves to Link’s side and slams a hand down on his shoulder. Link’s bones creak, but he is used to the Goron’s aggressive displays of affection.

“The little tyke would love it up here.” Daruk says, and Link leans back into his arm.

‘Then take him. His parents don’t have to know.’

Daruk’s laugh is a rumble at Link’s side. “You’re a bad influence, little guy.”

Link grins.

“But hey—she’s moving great, ain’t she? I think I’m finally getting a hold of this Divine Beast.”

Vah Rudania comes to a stop with a sky splitting roar, and Daruk laughs. “I’ll tell you what, it sure is a blast piloting a toy like this around.” Daruk moves back from Link to stretch, and the sound of his bones cracking as he pops his neck made Link’s own neck hurt.

“Let those other Champions know they better eat their gravel if they want to keep up with the mighty Daruk. You excluded—I know you could take me any day.”

Daruk bumps shoulders with Link and Link stumbles. He plops down and Daruk sighs from behind him.

“Can you believe this view?” He says. Link looks out across the mountains. “Just look at all those delectable rocks sprinkled across these mountains. Mighty tasty, am I right, little guy?”

Link sighs. The skyline truly is beautiful.

“I may not know a lot about this whole Calamity Ganon thing, but mark my words, I’ll protect this land of ours to the death—by the way! Congrats on becoming the Princess’ appointed knight. That’s a really big deal; protecting the King’s daughter…”

Link scoffs and Daruk frowns.

‘She hates me,’ Link signs. ‘It doesn’t matter what I do, it just proves she despises me time after time.’

Daruk sighs. “The Princess is a strong personality. So strong she can’t see the range from the peeks. Give her time.”

‘You really do see the best in everyone, don’t you?’

“It’s the Goron spirit.”

‘No. It’s just you.’

Daruk laughs, and it rumbles through Link’s chest.

“Let’s get lunch after this; some nice rock roast—and you can throw something edible on the ground—"

A rumbling shook the stone floor, different from the crunching of Vah Rudania’s feet, and suddenly a wave of rock fell from a nearby peak of Death Mountain. Link scrambles to his feet, but he couldn’t move fast enough to roll out of the way of the rockslide. Daruk slides in front of him with a roar, and crackling orange flies up around the two of them.

Link has seen Daruk’s protection only three times, and as he stares up at Daruk it doesn’t cease to amaze.

The rocks still and the light flickers away.

“That was… strange.” Daruk murmurs. He looks back to Link. With a frown he dusts the Hylian off with surprisingly gentle hands. “As far as I know, Death Mountain has been dormant for centuries. But if it is sending out enough tremors to cause rock slides… Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Link places a hand on Daruk’s arm, and the Goron smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, little guy. I’m sure it’s nothing. Focus on the Princess instead.”

“Link? Link?”

Link blinked as Yunobo shook his shoulder. The Goron’s grip would surely leave a bruise, but now that Link truly looked into the Goron youth’s face he could see Daruk’s, clear as day.

‘I’m alright.’ He signed. ‘Just a bit of a scatterbrain.’

Yunobo let out a shaky breath and smiled. “You and me both, goro.”

“Yunobo!”

Yunobo and Link jerked down to face the far edge of the bridge where a Goron was running up, shaking up the bridge under his weight.

“About time you showed up.” He said, but his voice didn’t hold any malice. “The Boss is feelin’ real bad; he’s holed up downwind, back is just killing him.”

“I have the medicine!”

“You better. He’s got it bad today.”

“We were supposed to go meet up with the lizard today…”

The other Goron clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Like I said. Bad today.”

Yunobo sighed. “Then I guess we tell everyone to stay inside the next few days.”

‘That’s it? You just go home?’ Link signed, and Yunobo just shrugged.

“Without Boss there isn’t much to do. He’s the only one who can man the canon to push Rudania back.”

“Listen, kid, Yunobo, I’ve got sediment to shovel so just save the chit-chat for when you’re rubbing cream into Boss’ back.”

Yunobo saluted as the Goron turned on his heels and down the path into town.

‘Boss isn’t the only one who can use the canon.’

Yunobo’s face scrunched up as he followed Link’s signs. “I guess you used it too, didntcha? But I don’t think a Hylian like you should be all the way up there—”

‘I can—we can—do it! There’s no reason not to go up there right now.’

“Why bother? Just wait a few days until Boss—”

’No! I—sorry. Sorry.’

“What’s the big rush, goro?” Yunobo patted his shoulder, the flesh all but covered by his massive hand. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“I want to board Vah Rudania—I need to. I can subdue her.’

“What? Board a Divine Beast? Are you perhaps short of a few sheet of bedrock?"

‘Come with me! Between the two of us, we can calm her and bring her back to the protector she used to be.’

“Who do you think you are, Grandpa Daruk? It’s dangerous in there!”

‘We could do it! What would Daruk do?’

“Grandpa Daruk was big! And, and strong, and brave, and—”

‘You are big and strong, Yunobo. Don’t you want to be like your grandfather?’

“I… I…” Yunobo glanced towards the giant likeness of his grandfather carved into the mountainside. “…I do.”

“Then let’s do this. Together.”

“Together.”

---

‘…And you’re sure this won’t hurt you?’

“Of course! Me and Boss do this all the time. I’ve got Daruk’s protection to keep me safe! With it, I can’t feel a thing.”

Link eyed the canon Yunobo had directed them to once the two of them slipped past Eldin Bridge with weary eyes. Yunobo gave him a reassuring smile and climbed in the base, curing up and lighting orange into the perfect cannonball. The plan was simple, more or less. Follow the rock path up along the edge of Death Mountain where Yunobo and Bludo usually forced back Vah Rudania, only instead of beating the Divine Beat back they would corner it on the peak of the mountain, allowing Link to get close enough to board. As long as they didn’t get burnt to a crisp or smashed under a rock, they would be fine. Should be fine.

“Don’t worry about me!” Yunobo called, voice warped by the metal. Link glanced up at the mountain before them; the towering rock and lava fountains were a glowing backdrop to Vah Rudania. She was resting now, her ventilators for the heat whirling up and down, rocking the stone Beast gently, as if she was breathing.

This was it. The last Beast. It didn’t feel real. After this came Ganon, and a Princess, and a… a what? A new life? What constituted new? Or a life?

He could stay in Kakriko, stay with Paya and Impa, help the little left of old Hyrule grow. Or, if the Princess wanted him after everything, continue his duty as her knight. He could—

He could return to Rito Village, as selfish as that felt. Rebuild the… something… he remembered and had broken with Revali. Oh Hylia, that sounded wonderful. Impossible, beautiful, wonderful.

But Vah Rudania came first. There was no point daydreaming if they were all soon buried under rubble.  

Vah Rudania cooed and, before he talk himself out of it, Link kicked a glowing, blue bomb into the cannon and sent Yunobo flying forwards

Link regretted the move as soon as he did it. He stared in horror as Yunobo flew, smashing into the rock around Vah Rudania and falling back, bouncing once, twice, before rolling to a stop a Link’s feet. Link scrambled to grab him as Yunobo unrolled, face dazed but obviously not in pain.

“See?” He said, shaking his head. “We… did it! If we put our heads… heads together anything is possible…” He sneezed and stood, wobbling a bit, before shooting Link a smile. “We’ve got this!”

‘Are you alright?’ Link signed, fingers frantic.

“Of course I am.” Yunobo cocked his head in confusion. “I told you: with my Grandpa’s protection I’m practically invincible.” He smiled. “It’s sweet of you to care though.”

The two of them stood, and Yunobo brushed the ash and dirt from Link’s armor.

“There!” He smiled. Vah Rudania broke her relative silence with an ear-shattering scream. She thrashed on the side of the mountain as the howl echoed, and Link could make out Guardian like contraptions pouring out of her mouth and sides. They were lit up the same ghastly red-purple as Rudania, and Link could hear their buzzing from here, high pitched and shrill.

“Fuck.” Yunobo swore under his breath. It seemed unnatural coming from such a friendly face. “A sentry is a nuisance no matter where or how many… with Boss here he could just crush ‘em with mining hammer… but you’re not as strong and much more squishy—no offense.”

‘None taken.’

“So I guess we sneak by.”

Link nodded. ‘Sneak by.’

“You’re smaller—why don’t you go ahead? And call out when the coast is clear; the sentries can’t hear well so there’s no worry there!”

‘Can't exactly… call out?’

“Oh. Right. Call you whistle?

Link pushed his helmet up his nose, flinching at the blast of hot air, and pressed three fingers to his lips. He let out a trio of short, sharp sounds. Yunobo clapped.

“Perfect! Perfect, you’re perfect. Though it does make me feel a little like cattle… oh well.” He leaned down and took shook Link’s hand, engulfing Link’s hand in his. “After you.”

Link took a deep breath. After him.

Death Mountain’s heat was raw and blistering under Link’s fingers, even through the metal of his gloves. The rock had a strange viscosity to it, not quite liquid and definitely not solid, giving under his feet with each step like lake algae. The metal hissed when it got a little too close to lava pools, sending searing, painful flashes of heat onto Link’s skin. The first few slopes were easy; he marched up their increasing elevation with steady legs, dipping under rock shelves to hide away from Rudania’s watchful eyes, whistling for Yunobo every thirty or so steps. But then the paths carved out by the Gorons stopped.

Bludo had chipped away at some stone to help with the installation of canons but now, for the most part, the mountain was a sheer face of rock and lava, leaving Link shuffling up slowly, hand over hand and foot after foot, Yunobo cautiously climbing a few dozen meters behind.

Link caught sight of a sentry creeping around the curve of a stone and scrambled up over an outcropping just out of sight, whistling for Yunobo to stay put. He pressed his stomach to the rock and listened for the hum of the sentry to creep by. Now quiet he lifted his head and scooted to the edge of the rock.

“Link—”

He clawed over the edge back to his handholds on the slab he’d been climbing on. His fingers just brushed the stone; he inched further and further—

“Link!”

In his concentration he had missed the quiet sound of a sentry moving away from position. Red-grey light caught his body and burned bright before curling around the shape of him. Link’s head shot up to see the drone hovering straight above him. Vah Rudania screamed.

Link slid forward and off the outcropping in surprise, dropping headfirst into the rock a section below. Yunobo shouted something to him but it was lost in Rudania’s roar as she slammed her tail against the mountainside. Boulders slipped loose from the rock face, red hot and stained from lava, and smashed into the peeks and faces below, ripping rock off to thicken the rock slid. Link felt himself collide with something and wrapped around him, crushing the air from his lungs, and then everything was quiet and still. Link could hear his ears ringing but nothing else, just the strange sensation of total silence. Link cracked his eyes open—Yunobo had caught him, his two massive arms wrapped tight around Link’s torso, and around them, orange, pulsing, and beautiful, was Daruk’s protection.

Slowly the rocks settled, and Vah Rudania stilled. Yunobo let Daruk’s protection fall and helped Link cling back to the mountain face.

“Are you alright, goro?”

Link gave a shaky nod.

“Don’t scare me like that. What would have happened if I hadn’t been here? Either you would have been crush under a rock or fallen to your death. Both terrible ways to go, goro.” He patted Link’s helmet. “Let’s be more careful, alright?”

Link took in a deep, burning breath and let it back out to the brimstone air. He began to climb.

It took three canon fires to force Vah Rudania to the peak of Death Mountain. With each strike, she let out a mournful wail and a shudder, stone limps sliding through the stone and shuddering under her weight. Finally, they reached the peak of the mountain.

Vah Rudania teetered on the peek, tail and back reptilian legs hanging off into the pit, and as Link stared down at the hulking Beast his heart raced. She inched forward and finally slipped over, sending waves of lava splashing up against the edges of the mountain top, threatening to spill over.

Yunobo gasped.

“She’s so beautiful, isn’t she? We really put a licking on that thing. It’s time to finish the job! This is our big chance—”

The Goron yelped as Link leaped over the last few rocks lining the pit of Death Mountain and hurtled down, down, down onto the Beast below. Link could just make out the silhouette of Yunobo as he touched down on Vah Rudania, knees and ankles shuddering at the rough, paraglider-less landing. Rudania gave a coo and the fireproof temperature controls that surrounded the Beast sild back up.

Three down, one to go.

Chapter Text

Vah Rudania was unpleasantly warm but not boiling hot; Link hesitantly removed his helmet and faced nothing but stifling air on his face. The air was perfectly still—unnervingly so.

It seems the Sheikah who had built the Beast had chosen technology over elixirs or armor, installing an arching field of humming, electric blue light that kept the boiling volcanic heat out of the Beast. Link breathed in the air through his teeth; being able to breathe without the grate of the helmet over his mouth was heavenly, even with the heat. Link looked back up and behind him where Yunobo still stood. The Goron waved and Link saluted back. He looked to the door sealing off Vah Rudania and slid his Sheikah slate across the stone. It chirped and slid open, and when Link stepped inside it dropped shut with a bang, leaving Link in total darkness.

Vah Ruta had been dark. Link remembered stalking through the first few corridors in blackness, only the chill of water around his ankles to keep him company. Instead, Rudania was still and silent as a grave.

‘Technically,’ Link told himself as he lit up his slate as a torch. The blue looked ghostly in the artificial dark. ‘graves are not still or silent, filled to the brim with bacteria and maggots running around in rotten skin.’

The thought stopped him for a moment. How long had he been… dead… before the Sheikah dragged him to the Shrine? Long enough for his gut to turn against itself, for his own bacteria to start feasting on him?

How did he die?

Link didn’t like to think about it, but now, surrounded in the dark, the thought festered. He clicked his slate off and a hand slithered under his armor and tunic.

He made a point to avoid the scars there—avoid touching, avoid looking, avoid thinking—and now the raised flesh under his fingers was both alien and familiar.

Searing pain, blown backward by the force of mechanical lightning. Scarlet blood boiling in spiderwebbing burns. A small, muddy hand in his.

A distorted voice, barely audible through his ringing ears—

“Link, save yourself—go!”

Link blinked and winced at a stinging pain—he had been digging his fingers deep into the scar tissue, drawing drops of blood. He lit up his slate again.

He moved past the entrance corridor to the belly of the Beast. A pair of torches lit with electric blue flames cast ghostly cyan shadows of the floor, and the pulsing purple-red of malice clung to the walls and dripped from the ceiling. Dozens of eyes stared at him through the gloom. Once again Link cursed himself for being over-cautious and not bringing the Great Eagle bow with him. He lit a torch of his own and moved further into Vah Rudania’s bowels, stepping carefully over pits of malice. The malice hissed at him, the smell of boiling rot rolling off in waves.

Besides, who knew just how dark it would be in here without their glowing stench?

A map was his first priority now—he raised the torch higher as he walked, peering through the gloom, only to walk straight into a door. Link stumbled back and shook his head. A guidance stone stood behind the slates of metal in front of him, and next to the stone stood an unlit torch holder. Well, shit. He really should have brought his bow.

Link pressed against the door as flush as he could, bars cutting into his flesh, and managed to force his arm in between the metal. With a straining, shaking wrist he managed to just brush the edge of the holder with his torch. The oiled cloths inside the ornate edges went up immediately and the door slid open. Link grunted as the door forced his arm up with it, pulling on his elbow. He dropped the torch, grabbing his arm with his free hand, and twisted and pulled until his arm slid out, sending him stumbling back. For once he was glad to be alone in these things. At least no one was there to see that debacle.

He stepped back and shook out his arm, then held his slate out to the guidance stone. It chirped. The mechanical sound echoing through the Beast, and as the information trickled down in blue drops, vents that had been hidden in the dark slid open, letting in the light of Death Mountain.

Link squinted as his eyes adjusted. The still, dim heat stayed the same. Link looked down at the Sheikah slate. A glowing outline of a lizard stared back at him, ready to flip from side to side.

As Link flipped through the new controls his ears perked up. A clicking, scuttling came from behind him—the surefire sound of clawed stone feet on the stone floor of the Beast. Link’s hand shot to his sword. Just as the guardian scout crept a few feet too close he was spinning around, sword drawn, and sliced straight through the scout’s extended arm. It skittered back, blue eye flashing as it let out a volley of lights, and Link rolled under them, lunging out and taking off three legs in a single swipe. The scout dropped and before it could think of what to do next Link was on his feet, forcing his sword downwards and straight into its head. There was the sputter of electricity and then it went still, its blue glow fading.

Link breathed out through his nose. Alright. Let’s go.

---

Link felt quite stupid once he realized he could bomb the malice’s eyes instead of maneuvering around them. He’d spent a good twenty minutes running around the main floor of Rudania, blowing up any glowing purple mass he could find, and now he could move freely throughout. He swiped his slate over the once malice covered terminal in front of him. It grew warm and hummed as it came to life, and, contented, Link dropped over the edge of the platform the terminal had been perched on top of.

So far Vah Rudania had proved to be straightforward, more-so than Vah Neboris but less so than Vah Medo, and Link felt comfortable he could be finished in three hours’ time. Link kept walking into the gloom, not really realizing how little he was being guided by the map in comparison to the vague knowledge in his head. The slate said to continue forward and take a left, but Link found himself turning right, following close to the wall until there was a door before him. It was huge, too large for anything but a Goron to move, but Link had magnesis. They swung inwards and right off its rusted hinges. Oops.

Stairs led down into darkness and Link had to light up his slate just to see. After walking for what felt like forever Link found another door to force open, and then there was light.

He must be in the very bottom of the lizard. Something resembling glass made up the floor, allowing for perfect view of the volcano below. Despite its closeness to the lava, the room was the coolest Link had been in. Link stepped forward, letting the door slam shut behind him, and leaned down to brush his hand down across the floor. It was practically chilly.

Blankets lined one of the curved walls, ostrich bones, and wooden food skewers stacked before them. With tentative steps, Link moved over and sat down on one of the blankets. It was sticky with hundred-year-old fire elixir.

“A little spicy for you, my Lady?”

Link looked up. The year-old words echoed through the room. Slowly, he fisted his hands in the sticky fabric, rolling the words around in his head.

“A little spicy for you, my Lady?” Urbosa says, the mix of biting, sarcastic politeness Link has become to expect from her. He isn’t sure how he feels about the Gerudo general, not yet, but he can’t help but grin at the glare Mipha shoots her. The Zora princess’ face is a green-red and slick as mud with sweat as she fans herself with her one free hand, the other holding a skewer of ostrich meat, unnaturally fire red with the Goron chili sauce on it.

“You! How dare you!” She cries at Link’s grin, and then he is laughing, and she is squawking, dropping the skewer to claw at him.

“My best friend!” She cries, “Betrayed by my best friend! Mocked! Insulted!”

‘I should have known your ladylike sensibilities couldn’t handle it.’ Link sighs and Mipha is on top of him.

“You vile man!” She squeaks, and Urbosa’s roaring laughter is easily beat by Daruk’s own room-shaking sounds.

Revali rolls his eyes. He settles back into the blankets and leans against Rudania’s curved wall. If Link’s eyes linger on how the lava casts orange light onto his grey-blue feathers, then it’s merely from annoyance at his refusal to enjoy himself.

Mipha catches Link’s eye and raises an eyebrow, and before she can make some snarky comment Link has her by the waist, pulling her onto his lap and laughing as she squeals. With a humph she settles down against him and Link winds his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her crest.

“Homely,” Urbosa says with a wicked wolf smile, all filled with teeth, and Link makes a rude gesture. He smacks a kiss on Mipha’s icy cheek and the Zora giggles.

“Don’t tell me this means you've gone soft!” Daruk says, but his voice is kind and full of good humor.

‘Everyone knows friendship is the greatest weapon of all.’ Link signs and beside him Revali scoffs. Mipha shoots the Rito a glare before sliding off Link’s lap.

“Weapons are the greatest weapon,”  Daruk says matter of factly. “Friends make good clean up though.”

‘Prove it!’ Link signs, and Daruk laughs.

“Are you asking for a fight, little guy?”

‘A spar. I have thrown down the gauntlet’

“This is extremely childish—“ Revali begins to say, but is cut off my Daruk charging Link with a grand battle cry. Link drops down under the Goron’s arms and slid under his legs. Daruk stumbles as he tries to scramble to a stop, and Link is already on his feet, darting towards him. Daruk whips around but Link is already leaping upwards. One foot bounces off Daruk’s chest, the other off his head, and then Link is on his back, small hands fisted in the Goron’s massive mane.

“Yield!” Mipha yells.

“Never!”

Daruk runs backward straight into a wall, squishing Link between him and the stone.

“Yield!” Daruk cries, and Link shakes his head furiously, pulling harder on Daruk’s hair.

“That’s enough boys, before you break the glass.” The two of them jerk their heads towards Urbosa. Despite her words, a soft smile is on her painted lips.

Daruk sighs. “Tie?” He says, and Link loosens his grip, a sign of agreement.

“Let me see you,” Mipha says, holding out her arms to Link. “I worry that might bruise.”

Link doesn’t notice the look Urbosa shoots Mipha or the sudden flush across her cheeks.

“What am I?” Daruk says, plopping down beside her. “Chopped lizalfo?”

“Of course not. I’ll look you over soon. One at a time.”

… One at a time. Link exhaled. She really did love him, didn’t she? And he had loved all of them, wholly and completely. Urbosa with her biting wit and wolf smiles, Daruk with his cheer and booming laughs, Mipha with her quiet kindness and dedication. Revali with his… everything.  

He was so close to saving them all from a hundred more years encased in malice, so close to bringing them home. Just one more—all he had to do was not die.

---

Outside the belly of the Beast, the sky was made of lava and magma, the color of a starting sunrise and a tropical bird, and orange and yellow light painted every surface. Link slid his fireproof helmet back over his head; even if Vah Rudania was protected from the fiery heat Link still felt nervous having bare skin exposed so close to lava.

Just a few hundred yards before him, the control panel pulsed with malicious light. The smell of artificial decay was enough to cover the smell of brimstone and sulfur even from this far away. Link’s slate blinked, making sure Link was aware that each terminal had been brought back to life, ready to return the Divine Beast to the majesty she was. Link grit his teeth. Should he be excited to face his last Blight? Anxious? …Scared? Link didn’t know, wasn’t even sure of what he was feeling in this moment, just knew that at this moment his feet seemed glued to the stone.

Thunderblight had almost killed him. Sure, fine, he had Mipha’s power and the Gerudo healers to bring him back from the brink, but that didn’t change the scar on his gut where the Blight had speared him straight through. In and out. A clean cut. And Waterblight had left him with a broken skull, his grey matter exposed as he sunk down into the water. Windblight just broke a few bones—funny that the Blight that left him with the fewest injuries had managed to completely maul Revali. Like a bear on a deer. A hawk on a rabbit. Or a wolf on a cat.

Link decided he would go visit Revali after this. He wanted to see him before marching off to Hyrule castle. It was funny; he hadn’t even imagined he would get this far when he left the Plateau but now, final control panel in sight, it felt like this was always the end goal. He wasn’t one to believe in that destiny bullshit but, supposedly, he was Goddess chosen for this. Maybe the Goddesses had made a good choice.

Link moved forwards with purposeful steps and clicked his Sheikah slate to the control panel, being careful to avoid the slithering malice across the keys.

Come on, bastard.

For a moment everything was still. Then the malice began to move. It shot towards him and Link yelped as he dropped down, malice brushing over the top of his head. The smell of singed metal lingered in the air and Link whipped around as Fireblight began to take form. A bush of red hair, a blade as wide as Link was tall, a hand filled with flames. The mask stretched over its face and up into its hair. Link slid down into a fighter’s stance. The Blight screamed.

It raised its blade high above its head and brought it down with a screech right on Link’s head, sending him scrambling to the left. He had not expected something so big to move so quickly. He locked his sights onto the Blight, sword hand itching. The Blight hovered above the ground, rolling its sword over the back of its malformed knuckles. He just needed to find a way to bring it down.

The Blight let loose a flurry of flame and Link ducked behind a pillar to avoid the red hot spray. He could feel the heat of the stone on his back, and before it could grow too hot to touch, he rolled out and under the flames. The Blight’s over-sized head jerked to the side as it watched him move, and it brought up its sword a second time. Link waited for it to come down and as it smashed into the stone floor of Vah Rudania, broke into a sprint.

He sprung onto the blunt top side of the giant sword, balancing on the thin material, and moved as quickly and carefully as he could to the hilt. With a leap, he was on Firebight’s arm, and with another, his sword was plunged into the Blight’s eye.

Fireblight screeched and clawed at Link’s legs, His armor sizzled and warped under the malice grip, and with a jerk at his leg the Blight sent Link tumbling to the ground, sword still sunk deep in its eye.

Shit. Shit—

Link rolled out of the way as the Blight lunged at him, sending a spray of fire that Link only barely dodged. The metal surrounding his skin did little to keep out the heat of the magical flame, and Link hissed as it grew too hot, searing exposed flesh. Shit—

Fireblight raised its sword again and Link had never wished for a bow so badly.

The heat of the blade pulled at the air around it, forming a vortex of hot air, and Link grappled for his Sheikah slate. It was a better idea than nothing and, saying as his sword was stuck in the very thing he was trying to kill, he was very close to nothing.

The blue, weightless bomb lit up easily in his palm with a hiss and Link waited for the Blight to begin to draw up its weapon. Link let the bomb fly, watched as it was sucked into the swirling hot air, and detonated.

Boom!

The Blight staggered back and slunk against a stone pillar, trying to recoup itself, and Link seized his chance. He jerked forwards and grabbed hold of the hilt of his sword. He drew the weapon halfway out before plunging it back in and twisting, over and over. The Blight howled, wrapping a gnarled hand around his leg, and Link grit his teeth against the heat. The sword went in and twisted, over and over, as the Blight screamed, black-purple blood splattering across Link’s helmet and chest.

Fireblight’s screams became gurgles as its mask cracked and, fucking finally, the mask split into four and a half pieces, dropping to the floor.

Link saw little of the Blight’s face, too covered in blood and red hair to be truly visible, but its wail shook him to the core as it shriveled and shrunk in on itself. Soon it was just a husk on the floor, breaking apart into the ash of Death Mountain.

Link removed his helmet and wiped the sweat of Blight blood from his face, mostly just succeeding to smear it around. He gave himself a quick once over and marveled at the fact that he had managed to make it out of this one almost entirely unscratched. A few burns on the exposed flesh of his arm and collarbone from the Blight’s fire, but other than that? He let out a deep breath. More energy for healing Daruk then.

Daruk! Link spun to the control panel and gasped at what he saw. The Goron warrior looked like a turtle caught under the wheels of a carriage; his back had been split down the middle and puckered open, exposing the spine and what must be the back of organs. Link struggled to hold down his lunch. He could do this. He could do this.

Link knelt beside him and tilted Daruk’s head to the side. Out cold. Good. Link didn’t want him to be awake during this.

He’d work on rebuilding a skin over the spine and organs to help hold everything in place and prevent infection, then, once the two of them were in a more secure place, help knit Daruk’s back together. Link took a deep breath, laid his hands on Daruk’s back, and went to work.

He felt his hands grow cold, smelled lake water, heard Mipha’s soft murmuring in his ears, and sunk into the headspace he needed.

Hello Link. The magic greeted as one might speak to an old friend.

I need this. Link replied, and the magic nodded.

We know you do.

Slowly, slowly, a film began to develop over Daruk’s spine, growing darker and darker as the skin grew. Soon the pulsing organs under the spine were completely concealed from view and the skin began knitting up into the back and holding things roughly together. Link pulled back. He could do more, but he wasn’t sure how much Daruk’s exhausted body could take. Link looked to the control panel. Vah Rudania seemed pretty steady in her position, and Link figured he could safely leave her here unattended. He carefully hoisted Daruk into his arms and draped the Goron across his back. With a free hand, he unholstered his slate and selected Goron City. It wasn’t until the blue had overtaken them did he realize he had left his helmet behind.

Chapter Text

Link’s foot slipped out from under Daruk’s massive weight as soon as they came up into Goron City’s burning air. He gagged as Daruk came down right on top of him and pulled himself free with a wheeze. Daruk’s head lulled on his massive neck, still not conscious. Fuck.

Link could hear yelling from somewhere below the shrine, but Daruk was more important right now. His quick and dirty healing job on Vah Rudania had covered Daruk’s exposed spine well enough but his back still gaped, growing speckled as ash drifted down into the exposed flesh. There was no time to wait for a healer—Daruk needed help and he needed it now.

Link grit his teeth, eyes watering the in burning air without his helmet, and laid his hands on Daruk’s bleeding back.

‘Please stay unconscious’, he thought as he lit his hands up blue, ‘please, please do not wake up.’

There were footsteps behind him, yelling, but Link kept his eyes glued to Daruk’s back as it slowly, slowly knit itself back today.

Careful—the magic in his skull called. Link ignored it, pushing more weight onto Daruk and digging his fingers into his rocky skin. He could feel the flesh rolling under his hands, pulsing under the magic. It was moving too slow. Link pressed down harder, pulling more magic from as deep into his gut as he could find.

Careful, you’ll—

‘Shut up’, Link hissed against his own skull. He clawed at any leftover magic he could find with bloody fingers. Bloody fingers—when, when had they started bleeding?

It didn’t matter. He gripped onto the lake water-blue and lakebed-cold magic with both hands and tugged, pulling so hard that a wave of nausea rolled over him. Skin began to touch skin on either side of Daruk’s back, the leaking gash finally coming together. Link felt like he might vomit. His insides burned as he scoured inside of him for any scraps of magic he could find. His eyes burned, worse than just from the hot air, and his brain screamed in his skull. Link forced his eyes shut. He could feel the veins in his brain, feel them connecting every part of him, and plucked through each one in search of some way to speed up the healing happening under his hands.

Daruk groaned. Link managed to turn to the side just in time to avoid vomiting all over the Goron. He opened his eyes and found nothing but blurriness. He felt churned up inside, raw—empty. The nausea was back.

“…tle guy…?”

Link did not hear Daruk’s next words, or the words of the growing crowd around them. Instead, he slipped to the side, narrowly missing hitting his head on the boiling ground, and is gone without even closing his eyes.

--

The air is cool, close to cold, and Link’s breath comes out in white, foggy puffs-- winter is coming to Tabantha. Soon the cedar trees surrounding Rito City will be topped with snow and the bridges and stairs will have to be shoveled each morning. Revali’s feathers brush close to his gloved hand, not enough to be properly slotted in his fingers in but close enough for Link to feel their warmth.

The bitter wind cools the sweat in Link’s hair and the newly carved bow on his shoulder shudders against its pull. Revali had crafted it for him-- Revali had crafted it for him, and the thought made Link giddy. It was perfectly weighted and balanced in his hands, and the whole time the two had practiced at the Flight Range Link’s stomach had been filled with butterflies.

“No, no, your stance is wrong, loosen your grip.” Revali had said, reaching over to take Link’s taught string hand in his, his breath brushing across Link’s ear and cheek. If Link had tilted his head he could have rested his cheek against Revali’s.

But Link hadn’t, choosing instead to nod and shift his weight. Now Revali’s cheek is no longer a hair’s breadth away from him and the frost coating Rito City’s wooden streets crunches underfoot. Winter is coming, and it will be beautiful.

“Master Revali, Master Revali!”

Link turns just as a bright green puffball launches itself at Revali. Revali doesn’t even stumble, just spins around and hoists the Rito fledgling in the air, laughing as she squeals.

“Put me down! Put me down!”

“I could have sworn I smelled a little monster,” Revali growls, face bright, and the fledgling giggles. She climbs up on top of him, settling on his shoulders, and the bright ease on Revali’s face startled Link. He’d never seen him so… smiley.

“Does your mother know you’re running around? Don’t tell me I have to drag a little monster back to her cave again.”

The fledgling nods, then shakes her head and nods again. “Mama said I could go practice my shooting.”

“Oh, really?”

“I’m getting really good! I am! And Mama says if I keep practicing, I’ll be the best archer here. Except for you.”

“You might give me a run for my rupees. Keep it up and you could knock me off my pedestal.”

The fledgling gasps. “No!”

Revali pulls her off his shoulders and plops her down on the ground. “I’ll show you some tips next time, but I’m busy. Go tell your Mama that you need someone to watch you if you’re going down to the Flight Range.”

The fledgling nods, squeezes Revali’s leg and runs off down some corridor to find her mother.

‘You didn’t strike me as the motherly type,’ Link signs with a sly smile, and ducks out of the way when Revali swats at him.

“I commissioned the Flight Range for them. What’s the point in learning to be a warrior if you cannot pass on your knowledge? These children will become a new generation—”

‘Admit it. You like kids.’

“Fine. I enjoy their company.”

Link laughs and he could have sworn Revali blushes under all those feathers.

‘Don’t worry, it’s sweet. Your secret is safe with me.’

Link smiles, and Revali gives him a small one back.

“Noble Quill starts selling hot chocolate with spicy pepper whipped cream this time of year.” He says, “if you would like to come. I imagine the growing chill isn’t good for Hylian bones.”

Link bites back a soft sigh. It is hard to know what to do when this happens, when Revali extends a metaphorical olive branch and leaves Link spiraling, unsure if he could risk taking Revali’s hand as they walk down the wooden corridor to the inn or if Revali simply means to… means to… fuck if Link knows what Revali ever means to do.

‘The Princess sets out for Lake Hylia in the morning,’ Link signs. ‘I should help her prepare.’

Surprisingly, Revali’s face falls.

“Fine. Go and run to her back and call. You make a fine dog.”

Link blinks at the sudden change, taken in a sudden whiplash, and by the time he thinks to raise his hands and say something, Revali has already stalked off.

---

The rain is icy and Link revels in it. He needs the chill, needs to wash off the rage from this morning, the lingering resentment from his screaming (sign-screaming?) match with his father at the Bridge of Hylia. In front of everyone.

Everyone but the Princess, thank the Goddesses.

Lightning highlights the dark sky as Link swings the Master Sword, spinning to bring it down on air, dragging it up and to the side, finally plunging it down.

Behind him, the Princess sighs.

“I doubt this will let up anytime soon…”

Thunder echoes across the lake, nearly silencing her.

“Your path seems to mirror your father’s”

Her comment stops Link mid-swing, and he slowly lowers his sword to turn and look at her.

“You’ve dedicated yourself to becoming a knight as well. I’m sure with time you could take his position right from under him” She laughs, a small, pathetic sound. “Your commitment to the training necessary to fulfill your goal is really quite admirable. I see now why you would be the chosen one.”

Link sheaths his sword and wipes the water from his eyes, pushing his hair across his forehead. Zelda meets his eyes head-on.

“What if one day you decided you didn’t want to be a knight? That you couldn’t be one? That you just weren’t meant to be a fighter?

Yet the only thing people ever said was that you were born into the family of the royal guard and so no matter what you thought, you had to become a knight. If that were the only thing you were ever told—would you have chosen a different path?”

Link crawls under the tree beside her, leaning against the mother-child statue,

‘I never felt like I had another choice.’ He signs over the thunder. ‘My father is a difficult man to say no to, and he made up his mind of my future when I was very young.’

Zelda bites her lip.

‘I won’t pretend to understand everything you’re going through, but I know that there are some pieces I can relate to.’

Zelda nods and Link takes her hand. She squeezes it, and her fingers are slick with rain and mud.

------

Link debates not returning to Rito City for longer than usual. The dog comment has stuck with him more than Revali’s jabs usually did. Zelda had chosen their friendship over her own with Revali, promising him she would give the Rito the royal cold shoulder if Link asked her to.

“Write to him,” Mipha says instead. “He isn’t cruel, just… emotionally constipated.”

Link laughs as he kicks his bare feet in the waters under Zora’s Domaine, trousers rolled up to his knees, chest bare. The Zora princess lounges in the water, her crest floating and swaying gracefully in the current.

‘You really think writing would work?’

Mipha hmms. “It’s better than sculking.”

‘He called me a dog.’

“There are worse things to be called.”

‘Enough of him.’ Link signs, shimmying out of his trousers. ‘I came here to spend time with you.’ He slides into the water and slips under the gentle ripples, blonde hair floating around his head, and opens his eyes. Mipha blinks inches from his face. Her amber eyes are muted under the water, her second eyelids covering them. Link’s own eyes sting in the fresh water. Damn Zora and their unfair advantages.

Mipha smiles, and her razor sharp teeth glow in the dim light. Link pops back up for air, sucking in a lungful, before diving down and following Mipha as she moves through the water, slowing her pace for his heavy Hylian body. They move back and forth under the water, taking breaks for Link to breathe, and Link revels in the quiet. It made him feel like a child again, when the two of them would sneak away from their fathers to just splash together in the cool water and humid air.

Link pops up, chest heaving, and Mipha comes up behind him, wrapping her freezing, slimy arms around his waist.

“Write to him.” She whispers in his ear, and Link nods.

---

Dear Revali

Revali

Champion Revali

Friend

Link crumples another piece of parchment.

Revali,

The last time I was compared to a dog was during a training course at boot camp. I kindly broke the man’s nose. I have no intention of breaking anything of yours, so instead I am asking for an apology.

Besides, you can come up with better insults than that.

Link.

The letter was a lie. The last time Link was called a dog was days before he drew the Master Sword. His father had been stressed and exhausted. He’d lost a handful of new recruits to the Yiga during a raid on an outpost and his Majesty had lit a fire under his ass for it. Link was just the wrong person at the wrong place at the wrong time.

It… unfortunate… that Aryll had been in the room to see it.

Link hadn’t broken his father’s nose. He had walked Aryll to bed, tucked her in, and held back angry tears in his bedroom as quietly as he could, hoping neither of them heard him. But he won’t tell that to Revali. Never. Mipha, yes, the Princess, maybe, but Link would rather die than have Revali see him like that.

Link sends the letter in the morning.

---

“My hope is… my hope is that you will allow me to contribute here, in any way I can—”

“No more excuses!”

Zelda’s breath catches in her throat. The other guards on the walkway—her father—cannot hear it, but with his kneeling body inches from her thighs Link can hear every breath, every swallow, every thought the Princess has. Link’s shoulders shudder as he tries to calm himself. Breathe through the nose, exhale through the mouth.

Link hears his father in the Bosphoramus’s needle-sharp tone as his voice grows ever louder.

“Stop running away from your duty. As your King, I forbid you from having anything to do with these machines from this moment on. And as your father, my disappointment only grows. Do you know how the gossip mongers refer to you?”

No, she doesn’t. Link makes sure to keep his Princess far away from those people. But he knows. He hears it everywhere he goes when Zelda is not beside him. Once, a noble at a party sneered it to a friend when he thought no one could hear them over the swelling music. Link had cornered the man and shattered his champagne glass in his face.

Father had threatened him with the lash when he heard.

‘I outrank you now.’ Link had signed with a sneer. ‘Don’t forget that.’

“They are out there at this moment whispering amongst themselves.” The King says, snapping Link back to attention. “That you are the heir to a throne of nothing. Nothing but failure. It is woven into your destiny that you prove them wrong.”

“Yes, you Majesty,” Zelda says. It comes out as a croak. “I understand.”

Bosphoramus turns on his heels and Link keeps his head pointed low to the ground until he hears the door shut behind the King and his trio of guards. Zelda is gone before Link can even stand, hidden behind the heavy door of her bedroom.

Link knocks six times in a short pattered that he and the Princess had developed so she could always tell it was him when he came in. Link tries the handle and it turns easily in his hand.

The room is dark. Zelda has not lit the sconces or any candles, instead sitting at her desk in dim light. The mirror is streaked with dust. This is her first-time home since their last trip to the Spring of Courage. In a pot on the corner of the desk was a pitiful collection of silent princesses, all wilted and shriveled. This was her fourth attempt to get them to grow indoors.

“Go away.” She says softly. There is no intent behind the words. Link moves behind her and puts his hands on her shoulders. Among the cluttered hair pains on her desk is a boar’s hair hairbrush with a silver handle. Link picks it up gingerly and picks a lock of the Princess’—his Princess’—hair. He did not brush Zelda’s hair often—she didn’t care much for hair care and hair products—but she seemed to like it when he did. She sighs, leaning back into the hair and tilting her hair back. Her eyes flutter shut.

They sit like that in silence until Link notices the tears. Small droplets rolling down Zelda’s cheeks and dripping off her chin into her lap. Link puts the brush down as the small droplets become heaving sobs. He tries to hold her, but she pushes him off. Her eyes catch on a letter opener on the desk corner.

“Cut it off.” She whispers as she picks it up. Link looks at her in confusion until she grabs a lock of hair and begins to hack it off with the sharp edge. Link grabs her hands and she snarls, trying to shove him off her. He tightens his grip until she drops the letter opener, falling with a clatter atop a pile of chopped golden hair. Link pins his Princess into an embrace, holding her until she tires and leans into him, sobs slowly stopping.

“I love you.” She whispers into his ear. Link squeezes her tighter. She knows what it means.

---

Link returns to Rito City a week later. The letter Revali sent him is folded up and tucked into his belt. The parchment is greasy from the number of times Link has run his fingers over the blue ink.

Link.

I have something I want to show you. And I suppose something I want to say.

R

Rito City is dusted with snow, strings of lights running from building to building, torches lit in multi-colors running up and down the wooden walkways. Link breathes out a prayer to the Goddess statue as he passes by her and carries himself up the wooden stairs.

“You came,” Revali says when Link finds him.

‘You sound surprised.’

Revali’s feathers bristle and he begins to preen his hands. He is nervous, Link realizes, and Link’s surprised to find the thought warms him.

They move up to Vah Medo, Revali waiting for Link to climb up; Link sits on the floor of the Beast was he catches his breath. Revali tilts his head back and sighs as the winter wind blows through his braids.

‘Did you fetch me to apologize or to enjoy the view?’ Link signs, and Revali meets his stare. His green eyes are wide—Link isn’t sure he’s seen them so unguarded.

“You confuse me,” Revali says. “You confuse me and astound me, and I cannot make sense of you. I do not know how to stand it anymore.”

‘Gee. Thanks.’

Revali sighs through a tightly clenched beak and shakes his head.

“I want to show you something.”

He moves to the control panel and Medo rumbles to life, rising up over the city and towards the mountains.

‘Hebra?’ Link signs and Revali shots him a cocked smile.

“You’ll see.”

Link sits on the edge of Medo’s wing and watches the roosts below get smaller and smaller, the cheerful lights disappearing in the sea of pearly white. The white becomes silver as they move over the mountains, the light of the afternoon sun casting rainbows on the peaks.

“You ready to fly?” Revali says, moving to the edge, and Link barely had time to reply before Revali kicks him off the edge. Link scrambles for his paraglider, the wind whipping his hair around him, and the sail jerks his arms hard when he finally snaps it open. There is snow, stinging with the wind into his eyes, and then he’s hitting the ground feet first. A shock shoots up to his knees and sends him rolling through the snow, splatting into a snowbank.

Revali snorts behind him but offers a wing non the less.

‘First, you insult me, then you kick me out of the sky?’ Link signs with a splutter, and Revali rolls his eyes.

Link shuffles behind him as they walk. It begins to snow, soft white flakes falling down and resting on Link’s shoulders. They settle in Revali’s braids, sparkling in the feathers, and the sight of it makes the anger in his gut fizzle, replaced with something shamefully warm.

Fuck, he is weak. He should say something, anything—he gasps instead.

‘What is this?’

“It was Goflam’s hidden hot spring, but no one has seen him in 13 years. So now it’s no one’s hot spring. Just mine.”

Hidden under rocky outcroppings from Hebra’s mountain was a small pool of crystal-clear water, softly steaming in the cold. Berry bushes line the gentle slopes into the snow, and glowing softly in the dabbled light are countless silent princesses. Link has never seen so many at once.

Link slides off his fur-lined boots and wades into the sweet-smelling water. It’s almost a little too hot, and completely perfect.

‘It’s beautiful.’

“I’ve never shown it to anyone before.”

Link turns over his shoulder to look at him, and there is something soft in Revali’s face he can’t place.

‘Are you wooing me?’ He signs with a teasing grin, and Revali flushes under all those feathers.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it wooing.”

‘So you are!’ Link laughs but is quick to cut Revali off when he tries to speak.

‘No. No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be charming and—and wooy—and kiss me on lakesides—’

“It was not ‘kissing’, it’s not called that, and besides, you were the one who kissed me—”

‘Revali!’ The Rito’s beak clicks shut. ‘You don’t get to treat me like this and then act like a bastard too.’

Revali begins preening his hands and Link swats them still.

“I don’t know how to act with you.” He says, voice tight. “You make thinking impossible. It’s extremely aggravating.”

‘Damnit Revali, you’re a grown man, use your words.’

“I think I might be in love with you.”

Link does not choke, but the noise that comes out of his throat is no less embarrassing.

“The damn problem is that loving you is easy. It’s walking inside out of a snowstorm, that flush of warmth that melts any chill left in your chest. It’s horrible and frustrating and the worst part is that I don’t mind it much at all.”

Link blinks. Then, with as much purpose as he can muster, walks barefoot out of the water into the snow and takes Revali’s face in his hands. He can feel the warmth of the Rito’s feathers through his gloves. Neither of them starts the movement, but neither of them stop it, and somehow Link finds his forehead pressed against Revali’s feathers, the warmth of them holding back Hebra’s bitter wind for just a moment.

Link pulls back. His feet burn in the snow. For once, Revali is silent.

‘I think I might be in love with you, too.’

---

“—Golden Goddesses, for centuries immemorial you have come to us in time of need: Farore with your unwavering courage in the face of adversity, Din with your power and dedication in protecting the weak, and Nayru in your unique wisdom. Since time spent skyward, you Three have blessed us with your gift, her Grace, that Hylia in her loving kindness may seal away Demise and his great legions.

I pray now that you bless us once again, as our hour of need approaches. Awaken in me that which was passed down to me from her Grace herself. Awaken—”

 Link rolls his shoulders, flexing his fingers around the hilt of the Master Sword. His knuckles pop, one, two three, and once again Link begins to count the ants inching along the stone steps leading up to the Spring of Power.

One, two, three, four…

“—in me that which has flowed through my bloodless across time, twilight, the great sea itself—"

Link knows the prayers almost as well as her Majesty by now; months drifting between the Spring of Power to the Spring of Courage and back again had drilled the words into his head ten times over. Zelda begins a prayer from the top, putting different emphasis on different words. She’s been at it for hours, kneeling in freezing water. Her knees must be killing her; heaven knows Link’s feet were.

“—I pray now that you bless us once again, as our hour of need approaches. Awaken in me that which was… which was…”

Link looks up from the ants and over his shoulder. Zelda’s shoulders are tight and shaking.

“I come seeking help.” She says. Link turns; she is changing up the script, something she never, never does while praying. “Regarding this power that has been handed down over time. Prayer will awaken the power to seal Ganon away—or so I’ve been told all my life.”

Link sheaths his sword and steps into the water. Hearty minnows dart around his boots and into their burrows.

“Grandmother heard them—the spirits from the Sacred Realm—and mother said her own power would grow in me. But I don’t hear—or, or feel­—anything!”

Link can hear the tears growing in her voice as he wades towards her, and when he delicately takes her wrist, she rips her hand from him.

“Father tells me time and time again, stop wasting your time pretending to be a scholar! As if You aren’t the one abandoning me! I’ve spent every day of my life dedicated to praying! I’ve pleaded to the spirits tied to the ancient gods—and still, You have proven deaf to my devotion! Fuck You!” Her voice is split by heaving sobs as she spits them at the Goddess statue towering above them until Link fears she might vomit.

“Just tell…” She whispers, “what’s wrong with me?”

Link takes her in his arms, and she crumples against him, shuddering. “What’s wrong with me?”

Link holds her as tight to him as he can and rocks her back and forth, fighting back the churning anger in his gut for a more appropriate time. There was time to curse Zelda’s father and the Goddesses later. For now, his Princess needed him.

---

“I should come to the coast with you.”

Link flicks his eyes to the side to catch blue feathers out of the corner of his eye. Revali’s hands are buried in his hair, weaving the golden strands into complex braids tinted blue with feathers, and Link knows if he moves his head Revali could chew him to pieces.

‘Should? Not ‘can I go to the coast with you?’’

Revali scoffs. “Are you implying I should ask anything when it comes to you?”

‘It’s polite.’

Link can practically feel Revali’s smile.

“It’s your birthday and I want to meet your sister.”

‘You’ve met Aryll.’ Link signs and Revali scoffs.

“I’ve seen her from across the room at a political function. Not the same. Besides, I’ve never seen the coast.”

‘You’d hate Faron. Too humid, too much rain, and the sand gets everywhere.’

“If you don’t want me to meet your sister—”

‘No, I do. I would—I would love that. She’ll adore you.’

“You’re required to say that.”

‘She’d be… intrigued by you. How’s that?’

Revali nods. “Good. How long were you planning to wait before you left?”

‘A week or so to placate your needy heart. But if you’re coming then we’re leaving now.’

“Now?!”

‘Monsoon season is coming—you do not want to see it. Pack, you’ve got an hour.’

It takes three for Revali to put something together, and Link simply rolls his eyes at the Rito’s fumbling. He is nervous—it’s cute. They leave by lunchtime, and Revali complains of an empty stomach the whole time.

“Surely you aren’t planning to ride a horse all the way to Faron,” Revali says as Link ties their bags to his horse. He raises an eyebrow.

‘You have a better idea?’

“Medo.”

‘Is it wise to fly a Divine Beast halfway across the continent like a mule or caravan? It seems a little beneath her.’

“When you fly a Divine Beast you can tell me how to control her. I don’t tell you how to swing that fancy sword of yours do I?”

‘Yes, you do.’

“That’s beside the point. We take Medo.”

Link sighs. ‘We take Medo’

Revali is right about the time save, which Link refuses to admit, but the petty annoyance slips away at the first sight of water.

‘Just wait till you see the waves up close, it’ll be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.’

Revali scoffs at that but does not deny it.

It rained once on the travel over, rain that beat so heavily on Vah Medo’s stone that it sounded like a racing heartbeat, and with every breath lightning lit up the sky. With every exhale thunder shook the very air. Revali had yelled at Link for standing out in the storm but Link had ignored him, tilting his head back to the sky and laughing. Home. He was home.

For now, they leave Medo hovering behind them and walk purposefully under Lurelin Village’s archway.

‘I want to show you how to filet a fish—not to brag but I’m pretty good at ripping a spine out in one piece—and if Braydon is returning from crab fishing we can eat some of the fresh flesh, and Aryll and I can show you our favorite spot to look for mussels and shells—’

Link stops so suddenly Revali smacks into him.

No, no, he wasn’t supposed to be here. No—

Link’s father, Imperial General Mercer of the Royal Guard, stands front and center of a small crowd. There is grief etched in the people’s faces, grief that Mercer doesn’t acknowledge or reflect. Link takes a step back. They could turn heel and to right back to Medo—Revali could wait for another time, they could—

“I suppose I should be saying happy birthday.”  Link curses as Mercer turns, alerted by the staring of the crowd, to his son.

‘There’s no need.’ Link signs with tight hands, praying that Revali stays silent behind him.

“I expected you to be with her Majesty. But I suppose you can find a way to slack off even with such a lofty position.”

‘She is her own woman. I am not always at her beck and call.’

“Pity. If I had known you were being recreational I would have invited you to the funeral.”

Link narrows his eyes. There is no one in this village his father would give enough of a shit about to come to their funeral. Mercer’s mother died last year, and Link’s mother before that—

“Aryll was too young for such a thing. But death doesn’t discriminate. The Spirit Realm calls for all eventually.”

Link chokes.

‘You’re lying.’

The crowd’s growing whispers went silent.

‘You’re lying—fuck you, that’s not funny—’

“I figured you would be too busy to come to any funeral. Got swept into the riptide and smashed into the rocks on the outside of Everla cove. Not sure if she drowned or the rocks did her in. Regardless, she’s in the sand now.”

‘You didn’t invite me to her fucking funeral?’ Link signs. Be angry, he tells himself, be angry or you’ll just cry.

“How was I supposed to know you weren’t following her Majesty around like a puppy?”

‘You didn’t invite me to her funeral? How long—how long did you—’

“A week ago.”

‘You—’

“You wouldn’t have wanted to see her anyways. The rocks did a number to her face, it was more ground meat than flesh by the time we found her.”

Link’s fist slams into his father’s nose before he can think of what he’s doing. Mercer staggers back, blue eyes wide, and runs his fingertips over the bleeding flesh. Then he smashes his fist into Link’s gut so hard that Link nearly drops. He groans and looks up to meet Mercer’s eyes, then lunges.

“That’s enough!” Revali grabs hold of Link by the middle, pulling him back away from Mercer and the crowd. Link thrashes, teeth barred at Mercer, who sneers back.

“Get out of here before I pound you into the sand.”

“We will,” Revali says darkly and drags Link back and out of the main square.

Link’s fight leaves him quickly, leaving him limp in Revali’s arms instead. They walk on till the lights of the village can’t be seen; Revali lets go of him and with weak legs Link slides down into the sand. He doesn’t realize he’s crying till he sees the brown spots of wet sand below his chin.

“Link—”

‘Shut up, Just—shut up.’

For once, Revali does.

They sit in silence for hours. Link knows just how long, can see it in the change of the sky from blue to red to gold to black, speckled with stars.

‘Want to see Aryll’s spot?’ He signs, hands limp.

“…Of course.”

Link stands, not bothering to shake the sand off him, and begins walking. He knows this path by heart, ever since Aryll was a toddler on little fat legs, itching for the sea.

Revali’s wing slips into his hand, and, hesitantly, Link curls his fingers around it. The sound of the waves grows louder and soon they find themselves in a cove. Link unbuckles his boots, rolls up his trousers, and steps into the water.

‘Careful.’ He signs, ‘Some of the shells are sharp.’ He looks down at the multicolored bits of shell and reef poking out of the sand. The water is the color of sea glass and clear as a sigh. Sneaky sea snails line the shore, glowing softly. Link leans down and plucks a sand dollar from the sand, carefully wiping it clean. Revali is silent behind him and Link looks over his shoulder to make sure he is still there.

The Rito is staring in awe, settled in the sand, and Link exhales. He looks content—peaceful. Link moves to sit beside him.

“I’m sorry for your—”

‘Don’t.’

Revali nods. “This is beautiful.” He says instead.

‘My sister’s favorite place.’

“Is he always like that?” Revali asks after a stretching bout of silence.

‘A total prick? Yeah.’

Revali looks at him, clearly expecting more of an answer.

‘He was bad when my ma was alive, but when she died, he went from bitter to mean. He didn’t want kids to begin with and when one pops out barely able to say his own name? Father didn’t take to well to that. I went to a healer a lot when I was young, one who specialized in speech, and she could help my throat take in the right amount of air and my mouth the right shapes... but you know,  just because you can say ‘apple’ doesn’t mean you can speak. It hurts. It feels, wrong? But father doesn’t really care about that. Just that he had to put up with a defective kid.’

“You’re not defective.”

‘I know. His opinion doesn’t matter.’ Link chewed on his bottom lip. ‘

No.’ He signs finally. ‘It does. I just wish it didn’t.’

---

“I’ve—I’ve tried and I, I’ve failed them all… I’ve left them all to—to die.”

Zelda’s skin is freezing through Link’s rain-soaked tunic but her shaking breath is hot against his neck and the tears on her face burn when they touch him. At some point prayer to Hylia for forgiveness has slipped into heaving sobs, and all Link can think to do is cradle Zelda against him and run his fingers through her hair. Focusing on her helps pull his thoughts away from the sight of blood running through Hyrule field around them as Link had dragged Zelda as far from that damn fucking castle as he could. Ducking behind flaming homes to avoid the sightline of Guardians. Stumbling over charred bodies as they ran. Link swallows. Impa, Robbie, Purah… had they made it out of the castle in time?

The Champions were accomplished warriors-- they’d last long enough in their corrupted Beasts for he and Zelda to fix this, right? Right? It hurt like a festering wound to admit it, but Link knows that isn’t true. There, trapped in those Beasts… it is a death sentence.

How long will they last? How long will Revali last? Link knows he’s a skilled fighter, seen it with his own eyes, but Link doesn’t know just what is in those Beasts. Knows that whatever it is, no one can fight it forever. Link had been so sure that even without the Princess’ golden power they could do this. That by sunup he and Revali would be celebrating the annihilation of the damn pig.

Link swallows. Thinking like that-- thinking about him-- will not help them right now.

He leans back and Zelda sniffles, tilting her face up to him. He cannot tell if the water on her face is from the rain or her tears.

‘It’s going to be okay.’ Link signs, and Zelda’s face twists.

“You don’t know that, you, you can’t promise that--”

‘I will make this okay, I will. We’ll regroup in Kakariko and then head north to the Citadel where it’s safest. And I swear on Hylia I will not let anyone lay a single hand on you. Do you understand?’

Zelda nods weakly and Link took her face in his hands. Water droplets hang on her lashes and with a careful touch Link brushes them away with his thumbs.

“Then let us go.” She murmurs. She winces as she shifts to stand and Link notices why-- a large shard of stone, likely from a ruined home, is sunk deep in the sole of her bare foot. Shit. Link had not even realized until now that her sandals had been lost behind them somewhere.

“It’s fine,” Zelda says when she notices him looking. “It doesn’t hurt much--”

Link gently takes hold of her foot and with as steady hands as he can, pulls the jagged stone free. Blood drips down her foot in thick strands and Link starts on the buckles of his boots.

“Wait--” Zelda says, realizing his intent, but Link just pushes the boots towards her. After giving him a long, pained look, Zelda takes them and slides them on. Thankfully, Link thinks, he’s close enough to her height that they fit well enough.

“Thank you.” She refuses to meet his eyes, staring just over his shoulder instead.

“I cannot-- I just-- LINK!” Zelda tackles him to the ground with a scream and Link stares with horror at the arrow embedded in the trunk of the tree just beside his head. The smell of magic grows thick in the air, no longer hidden under the rain and Zelda’s sobs. He scrambles to his feet, Master Sword drawn, and white and red glitter amongst the trees. Zelda’s breath comes out in shaking, heaving breaths as she presses herself behind him.

“Oh look.” a man says as he stepped out of the tree line. “I had assumed we’d be combing for ages to find you two on other ends of the earth, but here you are, together. How sweet. What a dedicated knight you are.”

The rain has left the Yiga blade master’s mask a glittering white, and Link can feel his cruel smile under it. More Yiga creep from out of the trees on all sides of them, foot soldiers and archers and dozens of blade masters. There is no way he can take them all on at once. No way. Instead, he spins and scoops his Princess up in his arms, bolting for the trees. Arrows whiz past them, and Zelda screams when one catches him in the shoulder. He stumbles, squeezing her tighter.

Just keep running.

He can hear laughter behind him, almost hidden under the rain, and spills to the ground as an arrow embeds itself in his calf.

“Link! Link, oh Hylia…”

Link shoves Zelda off of him; she doesn’t need to see this. With one hand firmly on the base of the shaft, he pulls in a single motion. The arrowhead is barbed, ripping skin and muscle as it comes out, and Link bites back a whimper. Now is not the time for weakness. Zelda needs him. He struggles to his feet and takes Zelda’s hand.

They run.

---

Link tastes blood. It coats his tongue, his teeth, his gums, and with each breath it threatens to drip down his chin in thick, gooey strands.

The pain from the arrowhead in his calf has faded at some point, overshadowed by everything else. He has broken ribs, he’s sure of it, likely from being thrown into a tree by the shrapnel of a Guardian's blast. They cut into his lungs, making each breath more painful than the last. He’s taken to short, shallow lungfuls of air, hoping to ease the pain. Oh, what he would give to breathe deeply.

Something is burnt. He can smell fired hair and flesh, and he thinks it might be somewhere on his back, but he isn’t sure. Link hasn’t exactly had the time to run down any injuries. His head thunders—he can’t focus his eyes, which was probably bad.

He can’t feel his left arm. He can’t move it. He knows that’s bad. A Guardian had hit him in the side point blank and the arm had taken the brunt of the damage. The blood is so thick it is black, spiderwebbing through his Champion’s tunic, and it refuses to congeal.

Ha. Some Champion he turned out to be.

The Master Sword is limp in his right hand. He was never very good at fighting right-handed; father always said the best swordsmen were ambidextrous, that he couldn’t rely on his left. For once, father was right.

The Princess is speaking to him. He knows because he can see her mouth moving, beautiful face speckled in blood, but Link cannot hear her voice. Just the ringing in his ears.

“Link, save yourself, go! I’ll be fine, I—I always am, please!”

Link steals himself at the sight of the sheer number of mechanical monsters glowing around them. He had hoped Fort Hateno would serve some safety after hearing the Citadel had fallen—his father had fallen—but the Guardians had beat them there.

Three, seven, twelve… Link gives up counting. Red beams find his face. He knew he could die fighting Calamity Ganon, but he had always imagined actually dying to Calamity Ganon. Not a glowing machine. He raises his sword, forcing air through his nose---

“NO!”

Link forces his eyes closed against the blinding light in front of him. It’s golden and pure and perfect, and all he can see.

And then he sees nothing at all.

Chapter Text

Open your eyes…

“I’dunno what’s wrong with him, he just collapsed—”

Open your eyes…

“Don’t manhandle him, goro, his head might be hurt—”

“I’m pretty damn sure he hurt his head!”

“Don’t yell at me!”

Open your eyes…

“Both of you, behave!”

Link opened his eyes. The voice in his head faded, its tone both loving and exasperated. Link blinked and squinted, eyes adjusting to the dim light. He was in a cave; it was warm and humid but not boiling and his bare skin didn’t carry the stickiness of flame elixir: he was no longer far into Death Mountain. Water sloshed on the floor, steaming and smelling thickly of sulfur… he was near a hot spring. With a groan, he sat up. He was laying on a slab of volcanic stone, but it was cushioned with braided straw. Close by was a Goron Link didn’t recognize who was in a heated argument with Yunobo and, sitting up and looking only a little worse for wear, was Daruk.

“See, the little guy is up, there’s no need to throw a fuss,” Daruk said. He looked tired. Link should have healed him more, consequences be damned.

Don’t be an idiot… slipped softly through his head, tangling in his thoughts, soft, feminine, and worried. You need to be more careful.

Link rubbed his eyes. His head felt bubbly and strange, achy, but the voice soothed the pressure behind his eyes a bit. Suddenly, Yunobo’s face is inches from his own, eyes wide and empathetic.

“How are you feeling? Are you alright? Does your head hurt? Is Vah Rudania safe? Is your head okay? You were out for a really long time, I don’t know how Hylians work, I thought you could be dead or really messed up or—”

“Bobo, sit down. You’re crowding him.”

Yunobo took a sheepish step back. The third Goron stepped in instead, poking and prodding at Link’s face, running a massive hand down the back of his head.

“Right. Sorry, Grandpa.”

Link pushed the third Goron back and followed Yunobo’s gaze. Daruk’s hair had been chopped shorter to allow better access to his back, and his color was a yellowish gray, but he was sitting up on his own, which had to be a good sign. Link found he couldn’t make any words.

“Good to see you, too,” Daruk said, and while his voice was tired, his grin was cocky. “Gave us all a scare, little guy.”

Link stood and threw himself at Daruk and the older Goron chucked.

“Guess you missed me.” He said and thumped Link on the back so hard that his insides shook.

‘How do you feel? Does your back hurt? Should you be sitting up—?’

“Sweet Din, you’re worse than Bobo. I’m fine, I’m fine, just a new battle scar to show all the ladies.”

Link’s brow tightened. ‘I should have done more to help.’

“From what I hear, you’re the only reason I’m up and about, so I’ll say you did ‘bout enough.”

Link raised his hands and Daruk shoved them right back down. “Roge will wanna look over ya, but don’t worry about him. His bark is meaner than his bite.”

The third Goron—Roge—spluttered until Daruk’s serious face cracks into a grin. “Treat him right, little guy—speaking of guys that are little!” Daruk slapped his hands together. “My grandson! Since I’ve been told your memory is a little spotty after all these years, I wanted to re-introduce you to Bobo.”

‘We’ve met--’

“--We’ve met.”

Daruk’s grin grew. “Even better. Bobo, I trust you’ve been on your best behavior?”

Yunobo squirmed, blush growing. “Yes, Grandpa.”

“You know, Link, I’m told that Bobo here protected the city from Rudania every week, went and beat her back. And he escorted you to Death Mountain. That sounds like a marvel of a Goron to me—”

“Grandpa, stop,” Yunobo said with an anxious laugh, and Daruk waved his embarrassment away.

“Great Gorons should be proud!  And you are a great Goron.” He slapped Yunobo on the shoulder and the soft smile on the younger Goron’s face was enough to warm Link’s belly.

“You, on the other hand, little guy, have got no business messing with magic like that. Don’t know where you got it but stuff like that isn’t safe. Could’a hurt yourself real bad.”

‘But I didn’t.’

“Actually,” Roge pipped in, “you blew a pupil—we thought you wouldn’t wake up.”

A sudden sheepishness slunk into Link’s insides. ‘Well, I did.’

Daruk sighed. “Bobo, I think he and I need a little quiet time.”

Yunobo shifted on his feet, glancing between the two of them, before nodding.

“Roge, you too.”

Roge grunted and made off towards the front of the cave, Yunobo waddling behind.

“I think we need to talk,” Daruk said. Link sat down next to him.

“A hundred years, huh.”

Link swung his feet, nodded. Daruk whistled.

“I’m looking pretty good for a hundred and fifty-somethin’. Wish they would have left the hair alone—at least they didn’t touch the beard. Would have had to kill ‘em.” He laughed, leaning back against the wall. Link can see the strange warping on his back and it clenches his gut.

“Not sure what that magic trick of yours was--” Daruk said. He ran his hand down his beard, curling the hair in his fingers, just like he did when he was trying to sound serious. Huh. Link hadn’t realized he remembered that. “

‘Mipha gifted me some of her grace—’

“Well whatever it is, it doesn’t seem all that safe to me.”

‘I’ve never had that problem before.’

Daruk waved him off. “Just don’t let it happen again,” he said, and the fact that he trusted Link so much astounded him.

“So, if Mipha’s donating grace and all that, I’ll take it the others are safe? Urbosa? Birdbrain? The Princess?”

Link swallowed. 'The Champions are. The Princess, not so much.'

Daruk’s face fell. “We talking… passed… or--?”

Link shook his head adamantly. ‘No, no, she’s alive. Have you seen the castle from here?’

“Been a bit busy getting my back knit together.”

‘Well, she’s in it. I plan to go after her once you’re feeling more like yourself.’

“Little guy, I’m always like myself. No way to take all this down.”

He stood and rolled out his massive shoulders. “Let’s go for a soak, I swear I can still feel that split in my back. Thanks for that by the way—did that pain in the ass give you too much trouble?”

Link shook his head. ‘Bit of bumps and burses. Wish I had brought my bow. Sorry I couldn’t help your back more.’

Daruk waved it off and exited the cave, marching out towards the hot spring’s water. “The hot water does wonders for it. Give it a week and a few hearty meals and I’ll be good as new.” He grinned. Daruk had a nice grin, Link decided. Wide and kindhearted, open and empathetic, like his whole heart was spread out from cheek to cheek.

‘Bobo?’ He signed as Daruk slid into the water. The Goron groaned as the bubbling water sloshed up his back and looked over to Link with the largest smile Link thought he had ever seen.

“When I woke up and the little tyke was right there, holding my hand—well, he ain’t such a little tyke now, isn’t he? Got a grip just like his grandpa though, stronger than a talus, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a bright young man. Last time I saw Bobo he barely came up to my knees. You remember how mismatched he was, with those long skinny arms and big ol’ head?” His smile faltered for a moment. “No, I don’t suppose you do. That’s alright though! Nothing we can’t work with.”

He patted the stone next to him and after looking carefully around for any voyeurs Link began to undress. Daruk whistled.

“That’s quite a few scars you’ve got there.” He said, and Link shrugged. “Hey, nothing to be ashamed of. Weathered stones are more beautiful than any smooth rock. Even Bobo has a few nooks and crannies, and he’s got my protection to keep him outta harm’s way.”

Daruk sunk deeper into the water with a sigh and Link slid down next to him. “Wish I had known Bobo would get my protection before I marched up into Vah Rudania. Woulda saved me a lot of worring. You know, if I was a crying sort of man I woulda started sobbing right there and then seeing Bobo again. Hearing his voice, squeaking out grandpa just like he did a hundred years ago—It’s enough to make an old Goron sniffle.”

‘But you are.’ Link signed, and the Goron raised a bushy eyebrow.

‘A crying sort of man. You cried at the drop of a hat.’ Link furrowed his brow as the words came out. He didn’t know he remembered that.

“What else do you know?” Daruk said, shuffling closer. Water splashed up onto the shore of the pond, sprinkling onto Link’s folded socks.

’I… I don’t know. It doesn’t come all at once, just bits and pieces.’

“Pieces like how?”

‘Like—places trigger it, people, things that I used to know well.’

“This is great!” Daruk slapped a massive hand on his shoulder. “Then we’ll just find some familiar places! And I’m a familiar person, so that’s bound to help, and—”

‘Stop.’ Daruk moved back away from Link, and Link loathed the open compassion on his face. ‘I don’t want anything to do with memories.’

”Little guy, this is important—this is who you are—”

‘No, this is who I am, not some forgotten kid from a hundred years ago—’

“We haven’t forgotten you—”

‘Well maybe I want to be forgotten!’ Link fought the urge to sink down and let the water come up over his head.

‘I saw myself die.’ He said finally. ‘I can tell you where I got each scar. Here— a Yiga foot soldier cut into me with a demon carver. I bled for hours. Zelda ripped up her dress to try and staunch the bleeding, but we had to keep going. This one—I set the elbow wrong. It was dark and we were scared. I could barely move my arm. And here…’

Link went down, ticking off each scar and twisted, warped skin mapped over his body from that bloody day running side by side with Zelda. Daruk was patiently silent save for a soft sigh when Link lifted his left arm and exposed a shattered collection of burns. Link would perfectly picture how it happened—blown back by artificial electricity from a scuttling metal beast. Couldn’t move his arm, couldn’t feel it, couldn’t flex his fingers, crusty burned skin mixing with blood. Forcing his sword into his right hand. Spiderweb burns from white-hot lasers. Daruk moved a giant hand to Link’s face, resting his palm on his cheek and burying his fingers in Link’s hair.

“You know there isn’t just pain to remember.” He said softly. Link swallowed and nodded. “No one can force you to do anything. But I want you to remember the first time we raced to see who could finish a roast first, and when we spent the whole day clearing the mines of igneo taluses, and the first time you meet Bobo...”

‘He was intimidated…' Link signed hesitantly. The thought sounded right, drifting in out of nowhere. ‘He wanted your friends to be his friends.’

” And he was right! Turned out perfect.”

Link let out a bitter laugh. ‘Yeah. Perfect.’

“Listen—I’m sure the Boss will want to throw some shindig or something to celebrate Rudania calmin’ down. Come, stay a while, eat some roast and party. And then you can leave for the Princess and, if you want, put this all behind you. Just remember, little guy: I’m not letting you go that easy. You’re one of us.”

---

Link had seen two ‘shindigs’ so far in his short time conscious in the century; first with the Zora, which had been elegant and extravagant, filled with exotic food and music, and then the Gerudo, with sweet spiced wine and gorgeous colors and Urbosa’s beautiful, wolf-like laughter. A Goron shindig was…different.

It was bright, eye wateringly bright. Link hadn’t thought of the Gorons as a particularly magically tribe, but circles upon circles of torches stood at attention across the main square, light with a blinding light that shifted between neon colors. Their smoke smelled earthy and sweet, like cloves and cinnamon.

‘I didn’t know Gorons practiced magic. I guess it seems a little…’

“Too delicate?” Daruk said and laughed when Link nodded. “Not magic. Chemistry. Or at least it was a century ago.” His brow furrowed. “Guess I’ll have to ask.”

Gorons lounged around the square, sipping chalky, dusty liquid and eating red hot rock—some even gnawed on semi-precious stones, and seeing something so expensive drop down into a Goron’s massive gullet made Link’s wallet shudder.

“Daruk! Little Hylian!” Bludo waved from across the square, his booming voice carrying easily. Daruk grabbed Link by his elbow with practiced ease and pulled the two of them over.

“Bludo!” He said, “The little guy was just complimenting the decorations.”

“Sulfur is a wonderful thing; mix it with about anything and you’ve got yourself a light show!” His face suddenly grew surprisingly serious.

“Now then, Hylian, I think you’ve about earned a proper title. How’d you like to be an honorary brother?”

‘Honorary brother?’ Link said, being sure to keep the confusion from his face.

“A brother. One of us. A real Goron! You’ve certainly proved yourself enough to take on the title. You know, legend has it the first honorary Goron brother took on a dragon while only a child. Wouldn’t call the giant lizard a dragon but I’d say it’s about close enough. Whaddya say, kid? Take up the mantel?”

Link glanced to Daruk who raised a bushy eyebrow.

‘I’d be honored.’ Link said, squaring his shoulders, and Bludo laughed.

“We’ve got a brother!” Bludo yelled and the Gorons cheered. “Who wants to watch a boy become a man?” A whop went through the crowd and Link watched in confusion as a chair is brought out and he was forced down into it. His chest plate was removed, quickly replaced by a rubdown of fire elixir, and his undershirt was rolled up.

’What exactly is going on?’ Link signed to Bludo, Daruk, hell, to anyone watching, but his arm was jerked back.

“Let me through, excuse me, hi, sorry, please let me through—” Yunobo said above the chatter of the crowd, pushing between Gorons. Whereas Link was sure they would have paid him no mind before—hell, maybe even pushed him back—the crowd of Gorons parted easily, one even thumping Yunobo on the back of the neck with a grin.

“Bobo!” Daruk cried, “I’ve been wondering where my guy was! You’re just in time.”

Yunobo looked over Link’s bare chest and arm clutched in a Goron’s vicious grip and lit up like a roman candle.

“Is Link becoming a brother? Oh, this is so exciting—I haven’t seen a ceremony since Alfonso beat that titan talus!”

Link looked to him, trying to voice his confusion without the two hands he needed, but Yunobo didn’t seem to notice, instead prattling on with growing enthusiasm, the small, excited movements of his hands growing.

“You could do the honors, given your help in all this,” Bludo said, and Yunobo flushed.

“Oh—oh I couldn’t, I really—”

“Come on, Bobo, give it a try.”

“Alright, but I’ll just start it, okay goro?”

Daruk grinned. “Atta’ boy.”

Finally, Link was able to wrench his arm out of the Goron’s vice grip.

‘Will anyone tell me what’s going on?’

Bludo shook his shoulder, shaking Link’s whole body with it. “You’re be—”

‘If you say I’m becoming a brother again I’ll punch you.’

“It means you’re one of us,” Yunobo said. “A permanent mark of our bond.”

Link frowned. ‘Permanent?’

Yunobo tapped a tattoo on his bicep—an upside-down triangle with a pentagon nested inside. Now that Link noticed it he realized just how often he had seen the symbol in Goron city. On walls, on sculptures, on every adult Goron’s arm.

Tattoos were permanent—but not any more than a scar was. He rather liked the idea of a visible connection with Yunobo and perhaps, when the comfort grew between the two of them, Daruk. And it would be something he had now that he never did a hundred years ago. That Link hadn’t been able to earn this, but he had.

‘Alright. Do your worst. Best. Whatever.’ Link extended an arm and Daruk grinned.

There was shuffling, shouting, and the crowd around him grew as a bone pick thick as his pinky, long as his middle finger, and shaved down to a wicked point was passed to Yunobo along with a pot of black ink. Fuck, what had he gotten himself into?

Yunobo dipped a finger in the pot and sketched out the symbol on Link’s bicep.

“It comes from a legend.” Yunobo said as he readied the bone pick, “That Din left us with a holy ruby to look over the Gorons millennia ago, which was used by a child hero to save the world. He was the first Hylian brother.”

He plunged the bone pick into the skin, and Link gasped through his teeth. Blood welled up in increasing amounts and began to drip down as Yunobo continued. Yunobo wiped it away and, after piercing into the skin a few times, ground the ink into the skin. Fuck, that stung more than Link thought it would.

“You’re doin’ great, Bobo.” Daruk said, and Yunobo grinned up at him from where he kneeled at Link’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t hurt too bad, goro?” Yunobo asked as he wiped away streaks of blood.

‘Yes.’ Link thought. He curled his hand into a fist and bent to fingers instead. ‘Nope.’

“Fantastic!”

“So, brother, that’s a mighty mess of scars you go there,” Bludo said, and Link hated that he flushed. “Don’t be embarrassed! Gorons don’t scar easy, our flesh isn’t as squishy as yours. So a splattered canvas like that—that comes with stories!”

Link shifted under Yunobo’s hands.

“Bludo.” Daruk said softly, voice carrying surprising stoniness.

“What? One should be proud of battle scars!”

“He’d need his arm back,” Daruk said, and Yunobo pulled back.

“Well, I’d say it looks good!”

“It's mighty fine for your first go,” Bludo said, and Daruk glanced towards Link. There was a clear question in his eyes. ‘Can you do this?’

Yunobo wiped down his arm, and Link looked in almost-awe at the black, puffy, sluggishly bleeding tattoo. A mark of a brother.

‘This one,’ Link signed, careful of the twinge in his bicep when he moved his arm, ‘is from a lynel.’ He pointed to a trio of scars on his left side. They were long and deep but had obviously healed long ago by a skilled healer.

‘I was fourteen. There was a lynel that had taken up a place in the Upland Zorana and I decided to take it out. My father had been visiting Zora’s Domaine with the Hylian King—he was the head of the royal guard and went about anywhere the King did—and when he heard about the issue, he promised to solve it. I was angry with him—we’d had some kind of petty fight the night before—and decided I would kill it before him.

I took his sword and snuck out in the middle of the night. For a knight of his caliber, I was always pretty good as sneaking past him. So, I marched right up to those hills, sword in hand, ready the slice the thing to ribbons.' Link laughed. 'It did not go that way.'

'I dodged its fire by pure luck and when I finally did get close enough to get a hit in it gouged me so deep I could see bone. Finally, I pulled myself up out of a pool of my own blood and managed to stab it enough times to keep it down. Not my brightest moment.’

“How’d you make it out alright?” One Goron youngling asked, eyes wide.

‘Lucky coincidence. I had a friend, a Zora girl, and she had been out on a night walk when she saw me. She followed me up to Upland Zorana and helped drag me away from the lynel corpse. She patched me up real good—she’s the reason my scars are so neat—and if not for her I could have bled out next to that dead beast.’

“Mipha?” Daruk asked, voice surprisingly soft, and Link nodded. ‘Go ol’ Mipha—she’s the reason some of these scars haven’t landed me under the dirt. When this is all done you have to come to see her, Daruk. Her grace is the only thing keeping you standing.’

Daruk plopped down on the dusty ground next to him.

“I’d be happy to. All of us should go, You, me, Urbosa, Birdbrain—are the pipsqueak scientists still around? Robbie and… the other one. I just came back from the dead, I get to forget a few names.”

‘They’re fine. Sheikah live long.’

“And the Princess, can’t forget her. I take that if she’s chilling out there in that castle that she’s finally gotten a hand on those powers? Good. The girl deserved ‘em. Certainly worked hard enough for ‘em.”

Link nodded.

“Another!” A youngling yelled, “Tell us about another!”

There was a chorus of yes’s and Daruk shook his shoulder. “Go on Mr. Storyteller.”

---

“You know, for a man with no memories you did a pretty good job out there,” Daruk said.

Link ran his fingers over the still tender and swollen tattoo. Even with it being bloated and fresh he can tell Yunobo did a good job. Link was proud of him, and not just because if it turned out badly he’d be stuck with it for the rest of his life. He was a brother now. The thought left him tingly.

‘They’ve been coming faster than they used to, ever since the’

“Magic induced coma.”

Link let out a sheepish laugh. ‘Magic induced coma.’

“Any of it good?”

Link hopped onto a seat carved into the wall of the abandoned house the Gorons had gifted Daruk until he could help make something of his own. (Daruk had snorted when they offered help.

“As if I’d need help clobbering a few stones!”)

Daruk watched Link fumble with the straps of his fireproof chest plate.

‘Some of it. I remember you’re ticklish.’

“You tell anyone—”

‘You’ll cobble me, I know.’

“Of all the things for you to remember—”

‘I’m trying to have a moment with you.’ Link signed, but his face was soft, caring.

‘We were friends. We were happy. All six of us. And the fucking pig took it away. So, I what I do know is that I’m going to rip that thing to pieces.’

“That’s what you’re going now, then?”

‘Where else do I have to go?’

Daruk ran a massive hand through his beard. “I don’t know. If I was going to go throw myself at an all-powerful pig I’d want to spend one more day with Bobo.”

‘Maybe I’m not as sentimental as you.’

“Maybe. Still, think about it. Don’t miss out on saying goodbye to your Bobo.”

Link nodded slowly.

“You’ve got the place for tonight. Get some sleep. And promise me, no more magic comas.”

Link laughed but it didn’t sound sincere.

‘No magic comas’

---

 He left at daybreak. Daruk walked him down the Death Mountain trail, making small talk all way until they reached Foothill Stable.

‘Stay to see me off?’ Link asked. The red rising sun cast a halo around Daruk’s shorn hair.

“I should be there when Bobo wakes up. He’s been clingy.”

‘Understandable.’

Daruk laughed. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Once Daruk was gone, marching back up the mountain, knotted scar clear on his back, Link was left with a tunic soaked and sticky with sweat and fireproof elixir and a bag of flammables stashed with the stable owner.

He scrubbed the grime from his Champion’s tunic and sunk below the lake waters. It was cool, almost unpleasantly so, but after so much heat it felt heavenly. Mipha had visited Death Mountain before, and Gerudo Town. Thinking about the sheer discomfort she must have felt under all those elixirs, her moist, slimy skin drying out made Link shudder. He’d never been gladder to not be Zora.

Which left the final question of what to do now. All four Beasts and their Champions were freed. There was nothing stopping him from marching up to Hyrule Castle and putting an end to all this.

No, there was something stopping him.

He was afraid. Link had never once been afraid of Ganon. He’d always been fairly sure that he wouldn’t live post Ganon, that once the Beast was destroyed, he would succumb to his wounds just as he was supposed to a hundred years ago. He would not be permitted to cheat death a second time. But now…

If he died he’d never hear Urbosa’s wolf laugh again, or feel Mipha’s icy, slick hands. Daruk, Yunobo, Paya, Revali… they’d all be lost to him. The thought chilled him more than the lake’s freezing waters. Could he really say goodbye to Revali forever? He brought his hand to his hair. At some point, Revali’s feather had slipped free and most likely burnt to ash on the mountain, and the thought hurt. He couldn’t go and face Ganon without that braid, that feather. It seemed silly for something so small to suddenly be worth so much, but as Link ran his fingers through his hair he was sure that it wasn’t possible.

He didn’t even wait for his body to dry before he dressed, suddenly hit by a sense of urgency. He buckled his boots and tied his hair back up. The stable owner nodded with a smile when he passed him a few rupees in thanks for keeping hold of his more flammable gear. It felt heavenly to have Revali’s bow on his back again.

Link tossed a look over his shoulder to Death Mountain. Daruk had likely reached his grandson in Goron City by now. Link lit up his slate and selected the shrine-- Akh V'quot—without a second thought. His gut tingled, a sign that the slate was beginning to deconstruct him into blue, artificial light, and then his vision was taken over by white.

---

Rito Village was freezing. Winter may not have existed on and around Death Mountain but here, with the Hebra Mountains just miles away, winter had a solid grip. Snow coated the ground, silver and untouched on the landing before the shine, only to become muddied and slick on the stairs. Footprints coated the snow on the stairs and streets—hopefully, a sign that the evacuees had begun to return home. Link ducked inside the shrine to change into his snowquill tunic, incredibly glad he had chosen to keep it with him, and the pair of fur-lined boots the innkeeper had so graciously gifted him on his last visit.

Link reentered the landing and took in a deep breath through his teeth. The cold stung but was clean and tasted fresh and new, much better than Death Mountain’s eternal soot. He jumped a few times to work warm blood back into his toes and then set off. Goal one: find out where the hell they had moved Revali to, because he doubted the Champion was still set up in the Elder’s back room. Goal two: figure out along the way.

The snow crunched underfoot, the mud and slush that had refrozen throughout the night and early morning glittering under the still rising sun. Link ran a gloved hand down the railing; it came away frosty on his glove, but under the powder, the wood had been polished and glossed, painted with red geometric designs. Huh. It seemed that the Rito had begun to put the place back together since he left.

“Champion Link?” Link glanced up away from the wooden railing to the spot of bright pink in the still white.

‘Saki?’ Link signed, and then the bundle of grey feathers in her arms jumped free and bolted towards Link. Tulin launched himself at him and barreled into his legs. Link stumbled and caught a nasty batch of ice, slipping hard on his backside. He groaned and lifted himself up on his elbows. Tulin sat between his legs, looking at least a little sheepish, and Saki skidded to a stop in front of them.

“Tulin! Manners” She offered Link a wing. “I am so, so sorry, usually he’d much better behaved—Tulin apologize right now—”

“Ma--!”

‘He’s fine. I’m happy to see him too.’

Tulin’s little eyes went wide. “So didja come to see me? Didja? I’ve been practicing my shooting with Dad and I’m getting really good—”

“Hush, little one.” Saki gathered up Tulin in her arms as Link brushed the snow and mud from his trousers. “He talks about you all the time. All the fledglings do. You made quite the impression. Are you here on Champion business or…? Teba would be happy to see you.”

‘A personal visit. Have you seen Revali?’

Saki’s eyes lit up. “Master Revali? I’ll bet he’s down with the new construction. He isn’t one to get his hands dirty but the plans he’s drawn up for the Village have been beautiful. He’s really determined to bring us to our old glory. I didn’t even know we had an old glory, isn’t that funny? And he and Teba have been working to instate a training program, expanding the Flight Range and working with old aerial techniques. Tebas determined to surpass Master Revali with a bow one of these days, and as his wife I support him but as someone with eyes—”

‘Saki,’ Link signed with a smile. The Rito flushed almost as pink as her feathers.

“Right, sorry, of course. Follow the stairs upwards, this time of day he might be drafting on his landing.”

“Will you come by for dinner?” Tulin asked, squirming in his mother’s arms. “Please?”

Link ruffled the fledgling’s feathers. ‘I will if I can. Have a safe day.’

Saki nodded and continued down the steps, leaving Link alone once again.

It didn’t take long to march up the steps to Revali’s landing. Did Revali find it strange to have a piece of his home named after him? At first thought, Link wanted to say that Revali reveled in the attention, but giving how distressed he had been to see the time passed…

The wind picked up as Link neared the landing, sending flakes of snow swirling around Link’s head like circling birds. There, just around the corner, sat Revali. His blue and grey feathers were dusted white with the slowly falling snow, and around him were scattered papers held down in the wind by forgotten snacks and cups of tea while he leaned over a board with sketching paper held in place with one wing and a stick of charcoal clutched delicately in the other. Link cleared his throat. Revali turned.

“Teba, I said—" His eyes went wide and Link gave the most reassuring smile he could.

“You’re here.”

‘I lost your feather. I was hoping you would redo it.’

Revali narrowed his eyes.

“You came all the way out here for a braid?”

‘Is that so hard be believe?’

“I told you, it isn’t fashion, it’s a sign of—”

Link moved and sat down beside Revali, carefully avoiding a cold cup of tea.

‘I know. Trust me, I know.’

Revali’s feathers bristled and Link was sure he was blushing underneath them. Link scooted over. Revali reached for his hair and, before Link could talk himself out of it, leaned back and rested his head in Revali’s lap instead. Revali made a strangled sort of sound but buried a wing in his hair all the same.

‘Do you remember when you first told me you loved me?’

His hands stilled in Link’s hair.

“Do you?”

‘We were in Hebra. You showed me to a hot spring that only you knew of and I kissed you. Or whatever you call the weird face touch thing you Rito do.’

Revali sighed and Link tilted his head back to meet his eyes. Fuck, they were beautiful, green and golden.

“Why are you here? I know you didn’t come for just a braid.”

‘I don’t remember as much as I would like. I don’t remember the face of my sister, or all the trials I supposedly overcame for the Master Sword—hell, I don’t even remember where it is—but I remember you, with each day I feel like more of you slips into my head. I remember loving you. I freed Vah Rudania and Daruk yesterday. I’m supposed to be ready to fight Ganon now. But I wanted to tell you before I left for the castle that I remember loving you—’

Revali rested a wing on his shaky hands and bent down, pressing his forehead softly against Link’s. Link exhaled and brought a hand up and buried it in Revali’s braids, pushing his head harder against Link’s.

“I spend a hundred damn years on Medoh and I still didn’t stop loving you,” Revali said, then sat up and cleared his throat. “That was the sappiest fucking thing I have ever said, do not expect it to happen again.”

Link snorted.              

‘Who would have guessed the great Revali was a poet at heart—’

“No—!“

‘So eloquent and romantic—’

“Absolutely not—!”

‘A true--!’

“I swear if you don’t shut up I’ll—"

‘You’ll what?’ Link said with a sly smile and then grabbed Revali by the side of his face and jerked forward to meet him, smacking his forehead into Revali’s. Revali spluttered, pulling back and rubbing the soon to be growing welt on his forehead.

“You bastard! You—”

‘I love you too.’ Link signed, and Revali’s face softened.

“Get off me you oaf.” He said.

‘But you never braided my hair!'

Revali sighed and ran his feathers through Link’s hair.

“It’s a rat’s nest.” He said with a scowl and began to separate the strands. “So, Vah Rudania is freed?”

Link nodded and Revali gave a good yank. “Don’t move your head.”

‘Yup. I’d be happy never to have to use a fireproof elixir again but the wildlife on Death Mountain was beautiful.’

Revali snorted. “Just like you to notice fucking butterflies before anything else.”

‘I did not just notice fucking butterflies. Death Mountain is home to numerous other things—”

Revali yanked again. “Daruk, how is he? And the others.”

‘Well, the Blight in Vah Rudania nearly chopped him in two but I was able to patch him up. His grandson is still alive—do you remember him? He’s all grown up now. Urbosa has a granddaughter too. Her name’s Riju and she’s just as sweetly vicious as her mother. Little wolf pup’

Revali hmmed. “Where’d the granddaughter come from? Adopted?”

‘Urbosa’s wife.’

Revali yanked hard this time and Link jerked his hair out of his wings. “What do you mean wife?”

‘Watch the hair! I wasn’t sure how many of us knew but I suppose it was just me and the Princess. The Chief. It was a small, private wedding. Not quite a secret but not talked about.’ Link trailed off, looking out into the morning sky. ‘She was going to tell everyone after the Calamity. Have a huge party and a proper wedding. But you know. Things didn’t happen as intended.’

Things were silent for a moment before Revali reached up to his braids. He ran his hands down them, tweaking out feathers every now and then, and then reached for the hair at Link’s temple with gentle hands.

“Mipha. How is she?”

‘Alive and with family. Her brother towers over everyone now. He’s kind. Reminds me of her.’

Locks of hair twisted across each other and a blue-grey feather was tucked behind his ear. Revali moved to the other temple and continued the smooth motions.

‘What’s all the paper for?’

“Working to develop a new kind of bow. The Great Eagle is and always will be my finest creation, but she creates drag when firring with my gale. I need a smoother take off and the ability to hold my height when shooting. I’m going to find a new way to build a bow, a way to fix all those problems. I’m on my fourth prototype—I’ll find a new one or die trying.” He tied off the braid with another feather. Revali pulled the length of Link’s hair back and with quick, experienced hands braided it together. Feathers were woven into the strands, one, two, three, and Link felt something warm and flighty build in his stomach.

“What are you going to do after all this?” Revali asked suddenly. Link rolled his lower lip between his teeth.

‘I had assumed I would do whatever Zelda needed me to do. I was her knight before, you know? But… I think I’d like to travel. Build my own house, maybe in the Ridgelands, maybe Tabantha Frontier, and travel. I’ve moved all over the continent and never really seen anything, just too busy running to where I need to go. I want to see it. I want to see it all. Maybe if you want… you could come with me? Every now and then. A hunting trip here and there, dinner at a hand made table. But only if you wanted.’

Revali tied off the final braid, making sure the feathers were secure.

“I’d hate to lose this. If trudging around in the dirt and bugs means seeing you every now any then, well. I suppose I could find a way.

Link beamed at him and slowly pressed their foreheads together.

‘Please. Please find a way.’

Chapter Text

Revali saw him to the edge of the final bridge and, after looking at Link for a breath of a moment, braids blowing in the wind, continued after him to Rito Stable. A familiar face stood out by the corrals. The horses were cozied up in woolen blankets, their tack hanging on the wall safely out of the snow. Malon knelt down in the frosty dirt with a hoof pick in hand, red hair tied atop her head in a messy braided bun, whistling sweetly. Link moved over as quickly as he could on the frozen ground and threw himself on Malon. She gasped, whirling around with the pick held in the air like a rather pathetic shank only for her red freckled face to split into a smile.

“Link!” She stood, dragging him up with her, wrapped her arms around his middle, and with surprising strength hoisted him up and spun him around. “I was wondering if you’d ever come to visit! Dad—Dad!” She grabbed hold of Link’s wrist and yanked him towards the entrance of the stable. “Guess who’s here!”

Link threw a look over his shoulder to Revali, who looked rather out of place in the dull, dirty stable. He jerked his head, signaling Revali to come inside, and with a roll of his eyes, the Rito moved in after them.

Talon was stirring a pot over a roaring brick fireplace. The fire kept the room warm, nestling heat over everything like a smokey quilt, and unlike Link’s last stay at Rito Stable, the stable was packed, travelers of every race taking up every table, all bundled up in winter gear. Pumpkin, bear meat, and goat cheese bobbed in a thick gravy that Talon ladled out to a line of guests.

“Dad!”

Talon looked up and upon seeing Link, Revali trailing awkwardly behind him, broke out into a dazzling smile.

“Link! How long’s it been, boy?”

“Who, exactly, are these people?” Revali hissed in Link’s ear. Link elbowed him.

‘Friends that helped me on my way to Rito Village the first time. Play nice.’

Revali scoffed. “I’m always nice.”

“Who’s the friend?” Talon asked.

“Who’s the friend?” Revali said, voice incredulous. “I have not spent over a century helping to protect—”

”Oh…” Malon interrupted to reach a hand down to Link’s hair, running her fingers across the bumps of Revali’s near-perfect braid and ghosting over the blue-grey feathers. “Of course, I see. Congratulations!”

Link grinned. ‘Revali, meet Malon, she escorted me to Rito Village. Malon, this is Revali, the Rito Champion. You may have heard of him?’

“Oh, of course! I’m heard you’re doing such wonderful things for the Village, and it’s brought in so much business. So, thanks for that! Come on, sit, foods on the house.”

Food was on the table before they even sat, and another stable hand placed mugs of frothy liquid smelling strongly of alcohol in front of them. Revali eyed it all wearily and Link kicked him under the table.

“Chateau Romani,” Malon said with a flourish. Link laughed.

“The new goods coming into Rito Village mean I can mess around in the kitchen more. Goats milk, cream, bourbon, and some fresh spices courtesy of the Rito’s new trading post.” Link took a sip. It was creamy, tangy from the goats’ milk, and the nutmeg and cinnamon settled pleasantly on the tongue. He couldn’t taste the bourbon at all.

“Not bad,” Revali said.

‘High praise coming from him, I promise.’

Talon grinned. “Eat, drink, enjoy the fire, it’ll only get colder the farther in winter we get.”

‘Not for me,’ Link signed. Malon reached across the table and brushed the milk from his upper lip with her thumb. Revali’s frown deepened and Link kicked him again. ‘I’m leaving Tabantha, heading up to Great Hyrule Forest.’

Talon whistled. “Long walk.”

‘I’ve walked longer.’

“Take a horse, my treat.” Malon blurted.

“A bowl of stew is one thing, my dear, but a horse—” Talon said.

“And I know just the one.”

“Malon—”

But Malon had already stood, grabbing Link by the elbow and yanking him to his feet. Link threw a look over his shoulder to Revali and grabbed hold of his wing just before Malon could whisk him away again.

“’Cuse me, pardon, comin’ through—”

The cold air hit Link like a brick when they pushed out of the stable doors. It had begun to snow while they had eaten, but Malon seemed unphased. She almost threw him through the wood doors of the corrals. The smell of hay, manure, and sweat hung in the air as thick as clouds, but it was warm inside.

“Gods, it smells like shit in here,” Revali said and Malon laughed.

“’Cus there is shit in here. Come on, I want’ya to meet her.”

Malon led them down the stalls, stopping to say hello to each horse and the occasional donkey, jumping out of the way of a gaggle of cuccos that all but mowed Revali down. Revali gave a poignant glare in Malon’s direction at her snicker, but the girl didn’t seem to mind.

“Here. My baby. She’s sweet as butter and rides just as smooth. Can run for miles and carry at least two on her back for ages, and faster than any mare you’ll find in Tabantha. Heck, in this side of the continent.”

It was a chestnut mare, around 15 hands, with four white socks and a white mane to match. A pure white uninterrupted strip ran down her face.

‘She’s beautiful.’

Malon preened under the praise. “I’ve raised her since she was a foal—hell, I delivered her!”

Link raised a hesitant hand and the mare nestled into his palm.

“She’s looking for treats. She loves endura carrots, I swear she’ll get fat on ‘em one of these days.”

Link leaned forward and pressed his forehead on her strip. She pushed up against him and Link grinned as he stepped back.

“Okay, okay, we’ve had a lovely time looking at the horse,” Revali said. “Link, let’s go.”

‘Maybe I wanna look at the horse more.’ Link signed with a cheeky smile. Revali's feathers bristled.

“Her name’s Epona. After the Goddess of Horses. There isn’t a better horse out there to get you where you’re going.”

‘What? No, no, I couldn’t take—’

“It’s not an offer. I’ve seen what you’ve done for Rito Village, and everyone talks about what else you’ve been up to. I don’t know what you plan to do, or where or why, but I know that good has come out of everywhere you go, and I would rather like to help and be included in this story. Take her.”

Malon ran her fingers through Epona’s mane. “I’ll make you a pack for the two of you for the road—but you’ve got to promise to remember me and these shitty little stables when you’re out saving the world, okay?”

Link nodded. The stables seemed very small and too large all at once, and suddenly very quiet. There was a red strand of hair across Malon’s forehead, catching on her lip. There was dust on her eyelashes from so much time with the animals and her eyes were terrifyingly big and blue.

‘It’s unwise to put so much trust in someone you don’t know.’ He sighed. Malon smiled.

“I don’t have to know you to trust you. I just have to see the good you’ve done.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Take the horse. Let us help you as you’ve helped us.”

Revali coughed. “Thank you. It is very kind. But our Champion here has places to be, so if we may…?”

Malon flushed, taking a step back from Link. “Right, of course. What—what else would you need? Name it and I’ll get it for you.”

‘You’re doing more than enough.’ Link signed, and Malon gave a curt, awkward nod.

He and Revali trailed behind her—as if Revali could ever do anything as simple a trail—as she led Epona out into the courtyard and buckled up her tack.

“Here, I’ll help you up,” She said, kneeling and lacing her fingers together at Epona’s side. Link let her hoist himself up and swung his leg over. Malon shifted to Revali and relaced her fingers.

“I’m not going.” He said. Link swallowed. He knew this was coming-- of course he did-- but the knowledge still felt like a stone sinking in the gut. “I can’t. They need me here.”

Link nodded. ‘I know.’ He took a deep inhale and exhale out his nose, suddenly wishing he was off the mare’s back and able to throw an arm around the Rito. Would Revali even allow such public displays of affection? He wanted to try and see, desperately, painfully, just wanted one final touch. Instead, he nodded to Revali and tried to smile. Fuck, leaving hadn’t been this hard last time, had it?

“Good luck sealing the darkness,” Revali said, but the joke fell flat almost as soon as the first word came out. Instead, he met Link’s eyes, face serious but open.

“Be safe. Be smart. Tell the Princess I’ve missed her.”

Link nodded. The sky opened up into grey snow. Keeping his eyes on the path, Link spurred Epona on into the snowflakes.

---

The snow followed him up to Tabantha Snow Field but shifted into slush and greenery by the time he reached Rowan Plain. Rain sprinkled on and off but Epona road steadily on throughout it, and by the time they moved close to Salari Plain things were beginning to look familiar. Link had passed through northern Hyrule and west of the castle on his way to Tabantha and it was easy enough to retrace his steps. It would be a long ride but a comfortable one. Northern Hyrule was hilly and green but quiet as a grave. The ruins that peppered the tall grass told a story of a civilization ravaged by time, and Link found himself taking wide cuts around some of the more substantial ones.

He and Epona had stopped for the night in one ruined town on the fourth night in the grasslands. The well in the town square was crumbling but still held water and, careful of the water-rotted rope, Link lifted bucket after bucket: one to wash his socks and tunic, another for Epona, and a third for stew. With the bits of greens and vegetables he had hidden away in his pack alongside a moldy square of pocket soup, he had enough for a filling meal-- all that was left was a fire.

One building wasn’t too worse for wear with the kitchen mostly intact, and sword in hand, Link had begun to hack away at some of the drier, less water-swollen wood for a fire. He was careful to avoid anything that might bring the house down—the floor was dry enough to make a fine spot for a bedroll—and shared the carrot tops from his sad excuse for a stew to Epona. She seemed to like him well enough, and Link liked her back. She was soft and warm and liked to lick his hair, and would let him lie down on her when the nights got cold. She felt smarter than any animal he’d met and seemed to like it when he whistled little ditties from the back of his head. He made sure to whistle often now.

As she chewed away on his plant scraps, he cleared the floor for his bedroll, picking up a broken, rotten bedframe and shoving it to the wall.

He was proud that he didn’t yelp. Three skeletons looked up at him. Their clothes had almost rotted away over the past hundred years, but bits of their dried, yellowed skin had stayed. The larger one covered the two smaller ones with its body. Suddenly, Link could hear screams from a hundred years ago, smell the smoke as he and Zelda ran, hand in hand, from the castle, tripping over bodies in their panicked rush.

Then Link promptly bent over and dry heaved.

After that, he was sure to find other places to sleep than in village ruins.

The riding trail soon disappeared into the tall grass—it seemed winter had yet to touch northern Hyrule. Epona trudged on as if she’d walked these roads a hundred times. Link whistled for her. It was a familiar tune even if he wasn’t sure where it came from. He leaned over Epona’s neck and ran fingers through her mane. The mare seemed to preen under the attention and Link smiled softly. Good girl.

The two of them walked at a reasonable pace, but Link knew they should be going faster. He didn’t want to go faster. He knew he was dragging his feet, and the thought was shameful. Hylia above, he was such a coward. He had been chosen for this—it was his duty to defeat Calamity Ganon. It had been a century ago and it still was now. And what was he doing? Taking the scenic route to pull a sword he might not even need? Wasting time in Rito Village? Dawdling along while his Princess suffered?

Pathetic.

Link rolled his lower lip between his teeth and Epona made a soft, sad sound. Great. The damn horse was more emotionally perceptive than he was. Link sighed. He slid out of the saddle.

He took Epona’s reins in hand and began to walk, watching the wildflowers as they moved. White buds that might grow into silent princesses dotted the rainbow of flora. Epona would look lovely with the flowers braided into her hair. The road grew rockier and rockier, and as they approached the trees the ground turned steeper until Link found himself walking with his feet turned sideways. One slip would send him rolling down until the rocks smashed into him. That sounded painfully unpleasant.

They would have caught Link completely off guard if Epona hadn’t whinnied and ripped the reins out of his hand, eyes wide and ears flattened. Epona knocked him to the ground and the Yiga foot soldier flew right over him, tumbling to the ground. They stood in an instant, spinning on their heels to face him with a wicked blade in their hand: circular and heavy with metal spikes lining the surface. A demon carver. Link drew his sword. The foot soldier charged.

Their carver caught on the sword once, twice, the spikes pulling on the edge of his sword. The Yiga foot soldier let out a guttural hiss, and rammed him, successfully knocking his sword free. They swung, pushing him further back before Link’s foot slipped. He grabbed hold of the foot soldier as he fell, taking them down with him. They tumbled down the hill, arm in arm, and Link gasped as his back crashed into a rock. He rolled over onto his stomach, rising to his hands and knees. The foot soldier pulled themselves up with a growl. They had landed face-first on a rock, cracking their mask open and exposing a furious red eye.

“Murderer!” They spat, before ripping off their mask and tossing it aside. She was a woman, blood gushing from her nose and dripping out of her mouth, white braid a tangled mess.

“I’ll avenge my master!” She shrilled, voice near hysterical. “I’m going to rip you into tiny fucking pieces and mail you to every cunt who’s ever so much as thought of helping you.”

Link knew that face, that voice. Ere.

Link looked frantically for his sword—at the top of the hill. He bolted for it and Ere grabbed hold of his hair, yanking him back down. She crawled on top of him, pinning him down with her knees, her blood dripping onto his face, and spat a glob of bloody saliva in his face. She wrapped tanned hands around his neck and squeezed.

Link clawed at her but Ere just laughed, digging her thumbs into his windpipe. “The braid is cute. I think I’ll start with him. I’ll send him your cock.”

Link wheezed, trying to thrash out of her grasp, and Ere smashed his head into the ground. Spots swam across his vision. Ere slammed his head into the rocky ground again and again, until Link couldn’t even hear her words, just the ringing in his ears. He groped desperately for something, anything that could help—finally, finally, his fingers brushed against something.

Link wrapped his fingers around it and brought it down on Ere’s head hard. There was a thunk as the demon carver bashed into her skull. Ere’s eyes went wide for a moment, then glassy and dark. She dropped on top of him like a stone, fingers loosening, blood smearing across Link’s face and dripping in his mouth.

Link let out a shuddering, pained breath.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there with Ere’s body stiffening on top of him, but the sun had gone down and the fireflies were out by the time he rolled her off of him. He sat up with a wheeze and spat her blood from his mouth, wiping his face clean with his undershirt. Should he leave her here in the middle of the grasslands? Epona knickered behind him and licked his hair. She had walked all the way down here for him. The thought was enough to bring embarrassingly hot tears to the surface. Link hoisted himself onto the mare’s back.

He would leave Era here. He had nowhere else to take her.

Link rode through the night. He didn’t feel safe enough to sleep out in the open.

---

Link moved faster after… after the Yiga ambush. He couldn’t stand to think on it, dwell on it, couldn’t get rid of the taste of another person’s blood on his tongue. He had debated taking the carver with him but when he pulled it out of Ere’s skull bits of hair and brain matter came free on the spikes. The sight of Ere’s skull, pink with blood, was enough to threaten Link to toss his lunch. He left the carver behind.

 He wouldn’t think of it, he promised himself. He wouldn’t think of it. So, he and Epona moved faster. He sent her moving at a breakneck speed, stopping every once and a while for water, apples, and pets, praising her for how good she was doing. Amazingly, she seemed to understand.

He recognized the Minish Woods as soon as he saw it. The trees almost resembled creatures as their branches to the sky, with wild hair made of moss. Truffles, endura carrots, and radishes carpeted the floor, but Link paid most attention to the blue nightshades. They were harder to see in the day, but he was able to pick them out and follow them through a zigzagging path deeper through the woods.

‘Stay.’ Link signed at Epona who just bumped him with her nose. ‘I mean it. Stay. I’ll be back.’

Link took a deep breath and followed the blue nightshade deeper into the woods. Link knew it was only late afternoon, but the sky became darker and darker until the nightshades began to glow a pale blue. Colors became hazy as a pale fog rolled it. It almost seemed to glitter in the trees. Goddesses, the trees were frightening; too thick to wrap his arms around and dark as pitch with crumbling bark and gaping open mouths. Link ran a hand down the bark and his hand came away sticky. He jumped back with a yelp when he looked inside one’s gaping maw.

A mummified body—a child’s mummified body—dressed in green and red rags and a matted straw hat leaned back in the guts of the tree, face covered with a crudely carved mask that might be a skull. Through the mask Link could see its sunken eyes. In its brown mummified hand, it clutched a surprisingly well-carved wooden flute. Link reached forward and ran a finger over the flute—as soon as he did the child’s eyes flew open. They glowed red-orange and the child laughed, a strange, unearthly sound, took hold of his wrist, and bolted.

Its grip was painfully strong, and it howled with laughter as Link stumbled behind it. Link struggled to avoid hitting trees as the child yanked him forward, sending him sprawling to the floor. It somersaulted, landing on its hands, head cocked with its hat smushed between its forehead and the ground.

“Come on,” it said. “Tag. Your turn!”

Link pulled himself up on his elbows, watching the child warily.

“Your. Turn.” It said, voice harsher.

“He doesn’t want to play.” Came a soft voice from behind Link. Link jumped. No way someone had gotten behind him without being spotted.

It was another child, a girl this time, tiny in stature, resembling more of a stick in build than anything else. Her dark skin almost sparkled in the low light, her hair pulled into curly puffs. Unlike the skeletal child, she was dressed in well-fitting green clothes, each stitch made with care, resembling braided leaves. A smaller face poked out behind her, pale, freckled, and redheaded, with a crown of Hyrule herbs on his head.

“But I’m bored.” The skeletal child said, and the girl ignored it. She offered a hand. When he looked closer, Link could see light filtering through her brown skin, exposing a stark white skeleton. Link looked up at her; he could see her mandible, her eye socket. The girl shook her hand in from of his face.

“Go on,” she said softly. “Take it.”

Link took hold; when he touched it, it was so cold that Link’s whole body shuddered. The strange child pulled him to his feet as if he weighed nothing.

“It’s not fair! You don’t get to play with him, I found him first—”

“That’s enough.” She said softly and it hung its head.

“Sorry...” it mumbled.

“You smell like him.” The redhead said. Link turned at looked at him—his eyes stared for miles. “You do. You smell like him.”

The brown-skinned girl hmmed. “Follow the flutes. They will show you the way.” She took the skeletal child’s hand in one and the red head’s in the other.

“It’s been a long, long time. Stay sharp, hero.” She said before leading the two of them off.

Link stood stock still for a while, staring at the twisting trees they disappeared into. They didn’t leave footprints. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was then he noticed them—flutes, pipes, whatever, playing softly behind him. The melody was sweet, familiar; he started to walk.

Twisting through the trees and following the music he eventually found himself in an archway of trees, glowing soft green. He took a step forward. The light grew and grew—inside was soft green grass bordered by yellow leaves. Pink and blue plants swayed in the breeze, and white pollen swirled around in the air. The rustle of trees and soft giggles filled the air. Link breathed in the clean air. It was unlike any forest clearing he’d seen before—it was filled with so much life.  

There was a pedestal just before him with a glittering sword standing proud in it. The indigo hilt was wrapped in green, like elegant vines, and flecked with gold leaf. Surrounding it were more silent princesses than Link had ever seen in one place, glowing in the shadow of a gigantic tree.

The Master Sword.

Link suddenly found himself anxious, gut twisting at the thought of touching it. He moved forwards slowly and brushed his fingers over the hilt.

It burned his hand, brighter and hotter than any flame on Death Mountain.

“Link—” A voice seared into his mind, behind his eyelids “—you are our final hope. The fate of Hyrule rests with you!”

Link stumbled back, tripping on the edge of the pedestal as the voice faded. The pain in his fingers slipped away while the Princess’ voice melted into the air. He’d heard her voice in his head before but never so loud—never out loud. Taking a deep breath, Link stood.

“Did I doze off again?”

Link jumped, his head whipping around. The clearing was empty and too open for a person to hide.

“Who is this?” Link looked up. It wasn’t a person—it was the tree. The gnarled knots he had seen were actually the outline of a brow and a nose, a twisting mustache, and an upper lip. The tree squinted.

“Oh. It is you. Why did none of you wake me?” There is a chitter in the trees, soft sounds not unlike bird songs or bells. Koroks. Now that Link really looked, he realized they were everywhere, poking out of every tree, under every bush, hiding in the tall grass.

“Alright, alright,” the tree turned its attention back to Link. “So, you finally decided to return.” It let out something close to a laugh. “Better late than never. After a hundred years I had feared I would never see you again. Rumors came that you had passed, that you lived, that you slumbered. I knew not which was true. I am glad to see you before me… but the look on your face tells me you have no recollection of me.”

The tree smiled. “Fret not. My children told me that you’d found your mind lacking as they met you in your travels. While I never doubt a child’s words, I had hoped it was not true. Alas, I was wrong.” The tree coughed, letting out pink flower petals into the air, and caught his breath before continuing.

“I am the Great Deku Tree. I have watched over Hyrule since Hylia first gifted my lineage life, one seedling after another, creating generations of protection. I like to think I was a mentor to you once. I hope I can fill that role again someday. But you are not here to reminisce, are you? Do not worry, I know. I have guarded her for you in hope that you would come to claim her.”

Link moved forward and hesitantly wrapped his left hand around the hilt. The Master Sword hummed under his hand. It was electric, somehow both hot and cold, a distinct feeling that could only be described as gold—it felt welcoming. Beckoning. Like falling—like flying.

‘I’ve been here before.’ Link signed, releasing the blade, and the Deku Tree laughed.

“Many, many times. I hope to say that you had found a home here—your bed still lies made inside, under the watch of Her Grace’s statue. Your friends, my children, keep the sheets fresh and crisp each morning and warm each night.”

Link nodded slowly. ‘Can I take it?’

“The Master Sword? She is your birthright. She is yours.”

Link swallowed and gripped the hilt tightly. He planted his feet, closed his eyes, and pulled.

There was only slight resistance, and then none at all as the Master Sword was pulled from her pedestal. Link pulled her free with the sing of metal on stone and lifted her skyward. It felt right, like she had been held that way in respect for thousands of years. A shiver ran down his left arm to the core of his being. She was here. She was his.

The one chosen by my Creator. I have been waiting.

Link lowered the Master Sword and looked up to the Great Deku Tree. The tree smiled, pink petals drifting down as bells rang out from the trees.

“She has accepted you. She has been waiting a long time.”

Link nodded and sheathed her.

‘I—’

“Rest.” The Deku Tree said. “I find my nap still chases me. You look tired, Link. Let the forest take the weight of your travels from you. Tomorrow is a great day.”

Link wandered closer and found, sure enough, an entrance into the Deku Tree. It felt strange entering a living being, but inside stood a beautifully carved Goddess statue decorated with flower garlands. The rest of the space was near empty but homely, with a makeshift bed of leaves and wool sheets in a corner. Link sat onto the bed, pulling his legs underneath him. He unsheathed the Master Sword and laid her in his lap. She was warm.

‘Do you have a name?’ He thought, feeling rather foolish to be communicating with a sword. Surprisingly, she replied.

I have many. One given to me by my Creator, one by the Hero that first wielded me, others by the passage of time. Call me what you will.

‘But what do you call yourself?’

Fi. You asked me my name the first time you held me, though you do not remember.

Link hummed, running his fingers down the blade.

You are afraid.

‘Of you?’

Of this burden you must bear. This creature before you. There is no shame in fear. Courage exists inside it.

‘What if I fail you again?’

Then another shall rise to take me in hand. That is the Way.

Link sat on the bed in silence for what must have been hours, maybe more. The Master Sword pulsed on his lap as he watched the daylight turn to moonlight through the leaves outside. Finally, he sighed and placed the Master Sword by his pack beside the bed. Rest. Rest was good. Tomorrow would decide if he would ever rest again.

---

He rose with the dawn. Link hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning in his sleep until he rolled over and studied the Master Sword on the floor beside him. Now he stood, securing her on his back, and knelt before the Goddess statue. He still found praying difficult, but with what was coming ahead he figured he needed all the help he could get.

‘Great Hylia,’ he whispered in his mind, ‘Grace of Hyrule, grant me strength and cover me with your protection. Watch over… fuck.’

Link shifted back on his heels and stared at the carved face. What was he doing?

You pray but you hold no words in your heart. Why?

The feeling of the words brushing through his brain was strange, but not startling. ‘It’s what my old self would do.’

Are you so bound to the past?

‘What else do I have to be bound to?’ Link ran a hand over his face. ‘I’m bound to a Princess who has waited a century for a man she may not even know.’

This land is more important than memory.

Link swallowed. ‘I suppose it is.’ He stood and then, thinking better of it, sat against the statue. He drew the Master Sword and ran his fingertips across the blade edge.

Link’s hand jerked as his finger slipped on the Master Sword’s blade, slicing into the fingerprint. He swore and sucked the steady line of blood from the sign of his pointer finger. The blade seemed to laugh at him.

‘Still,’ he thought after a moment, ‘Are we—all of Zelda’s and I’s bloodline—are we all different? If another will just come after me, then am I really important? Zelda and I, are we always going to be the same?’ Link asked. The Fi hesitated, as if to take a moment to think.

Your Princess is a kind woman. Strong in her silence. I have known many vessels of my Creator, but her mind is… unique.

You all have displayed my Creator and the Golden Goddesses’ gifts differently through the centuries. My first master carried Farore’s bright spirit easily, while others would be brash or quiet, thoughtful or melancholy. Just because a soul is remade time again does not strip it of the influence of the world that made it.

‘Nature and nurture.’

Precisely.

Link hmmed and looked up at the tangle of vines and flowers crisscrossing the bark above him. It was becoming lighter outside. They needed to leave. Fi pulsed in his hands, agreeing. Link stood and shook out his legs.

Outside the entrance to the Deku Tree, the air was still dark, the morning sun blocked out by the thick foliage above. The silent princesses that covered the ground shone like fairy lights. Link secured the Master Sword on his shoulder and stepped out into the cool air. He bent down, burying one hand in the damp grass and brushing the other over a particularly tall silent princess.

The Princess had to have been here. He remembered lying prone in Ash Swamp, Zelda, gripping tight to his torn shoulder and smearing the blood and sweat clean from his face as she cried, mouth forming words his ringing ears couldn’t make out. Fi had sat inches from his numb, spasming fingers, crying out in words Link’s brain had been too foggy to understand. Someone must have plucked her up when he finally went cold, and Link was sure it had been the Princess. The thought of anyone else touching the Master Sword—his sword—but her was deeply uncomfortable.

Yes, she had been here. She had torn her way through the Lost Woods in his too-big boots, smeared with blood and grime, and placed the Master Sword back in her pedestal. She had left her for him, knowing he would return.

“Your Princess has a smile like the sun.”

Link turned over his shoulder, up at the Deku Tree’s heavy brow.

‘I know.’ He signed, standing. The Deku Tree hmmed. ‘I remember.’

“After you were separated from your sword, the Princess thought to bring her here, where she knew it would be safe under my watch. She continues to fight, deep inside the bowels of Hyrule Castle, determined to hold back the forces that threaten her people.” The Deku Tree’s brow rose.

“Know this, hero—after all these years her heart still cascades with faith that you will come for her. Do not fail her.”

‘I won’t. I promise.’

“I don’t doubt you. I simply wish to feel her warmth again.” The great tree said, and the simple breath sent down a shower of pink petals from his branches. “Then I take it you’re leaving?”

Link nodded.

“Follow the edge of the trees and you'll find a burnt trunk—step inside and you’ll find yourself back in the Minish Wood’s entrance. Be wary of any skull children wandering along the border. They mean no harm but rarely think before they act.”

‘Wait-- I saw children other than those in the woods. Dressed in green with hollow faces—who were they?’

The Deku Tree smiled.

“Old children of mine, long since… how do you Hylians say it? Flown the coop? From centuries past. They remember this forest when it was home to far more creatures than the Koroks. Pay them no concern—they simply watch the world around them.”

Link furrowed his brow. ‘They seemed so young.’

Somehow, the Deku Tree’s wooden eyes seemed to sparkle. “The Kokiri never age.”

---

It was raining by the time Link and Epona reached Helmhead bridge and dusty dawn by the time they exited Hyrule Forest Park. Link crossed Boneyard bridge damp and tired, and the air reeked of malice on the wind as Hyrule Castle towered to their right. He kept his eyes down and to the left, and the spike of dread he felt in his chest filled him with shame.

The Master Sword pulsed warmly on his back, like an old friend squeezing his shoulder, and Link took a deep breath. He looked to the castle.

Somehow, the smell of rot and malice seemed to grow even stronger just by looking at the blackened stones. Whether the color was from 100 years of decay, malice, or the soot of fires that had been raging for a century, Link wasn’t sure. Black and purple coated the walls like mold, dripping down into the moat. The whole foundation shuddered for just a moment, and Link suddenly felt like he was being watched. With a grimace, he turned back to the path and spurred Epona onwards.

He could do this. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. To avenge a century worth of lives. For Urbosa’s lost marriage, for Daruk missing the birth of his grandson, for Mipha never getting to see Sidon grow—for a Princess who adored him, even if he wasn’t sure if he could ever return the feeling.

He wanted to do this. He needed to do this. For them. For Hyrule. The Master Sword grew warm on his back a second time and Link’s heart steeled. He could do this.

He spurred Epona into a gallop. He refused to leave her too close to the castle when he entered— Goddesses knew what dangers could be lurking there for a mare like her. Eventually, he found a stone structure that tingled with familiarity and was topped by a wide, high arch. Easily visible and rememberable, with a stream that she could drink from and plenty of vegetation. Perfect. He looped the reins around an outcropping in the stone, pressed his forehead to hers quickly, and turned on his heels.

Now all that was left was the castle.

‘How will you know when I’m ready?’ He had asked Urbosa before leaving the desert. ‘How will you know when I’m facing Ganon?’

”Naboris and I are linked. She will know, and in her knowing, so will I.”

Link thought that made very little sense, but now as he stared down the castle he would have to have faith in it. Giving Epona one last pat, he started walking. For the first time since he woke, he sent up a prayer to the Goddesses and meant it. The Master Sword seemed the chuckle on his back, and her presence filled him with determination. He could do this. He would do this.

The walk was long but felt impossibly short, tall grass tickling his knees and his feet sinking into the soil from the recent rain. Rain, rain—why did this kingdom always seem to be raining—

His train of thought halted as the walls of Castle Town came into view before him. They once had towered, but it was clear age had not been kind to them. Age, and malice. It coated every cobblestone, every brick, clinging to the stones and sinking into it like poisonous termites. And lounging in the vile muck was a Guardian —or at least what used to be one. Its legs were shattered and its eye cracked, but when it spotted Link, it lit up red all the same. Link reached back to draw the Master Sword, and as he did his fingers brushed his quiver.

He'd seen what an ancient arrow could do to a Divine Beast—what could it do to a Guardian?

Lightning fast, he drew the arrow, counting the ticking sound of the laser warming up, and drew back the bowstring.

Breathe in, out, let the fletching rush by—

The arrow hit dead-on, and with a spluttering scream, the Guardian exploded, sending malice and gears flying. Link took a deep breath. Good to know. Damn, that was good to know.

He stepped past the smoldering corpse of the decayed Guardian and peeked around the crumbling corner of the wall. Chunks of Guardians lined the stretching wall, some sparking with life, others dull and dead. Link wrinkled his nose. Well, fuck.

Slowly, he picked his way through the ruins covered field, keeping a careful watch on the sightlines of the decayed Guardians that bordered Castle Town’s towering walls. Some clung to the sides of the wall while others perched atop watchtowers, legs hacked off and bodies pried apart with royal guard spears. For each bested Guardian, three sun-bleached skeletons surrounded it. Finally, the entrance to Castle Town grew up from the ground.

It looked like it had been grand once. Carvings imbedded the archway, mostly worn away by time, but some were still visible—a girl on a horse, a giant fish, a Goron… Link wondered what it might have been before a century ravished it. Tattered flags bearing the royal family’s chest hung limply from their poles, the edges singed and fraying. The portcullis was half risen, a pile of half preserved bodies wedged under it. A stampede of people desperately trying to flee pinning each other in place and to their doom. The metal had been half-melted by malice and covered in soot—everything was covered in soot. Castle Town must have burned.

Link grabbed hold of the bottom of the portcullis and heaved. It shifted, the rusted chains groaning, and the pile of bodies slid free. Before he could let himself think about the fact that he was about to be rubbing shoulders with dead bodies, Link flung himself down and to the other side. He stood and brushed off his trousers. Looking up took his breath away. There was nothing, just bones and foundations and Guardians. This was wrong, this was impossibly wrong, because he remembered this.

He remembered the sounds of children playing, of stray dogs and cats, of hagglers yelling about their wares alongside the roads, of music and laughter.

Link took a deep, deep breath. He’d walked these alleyways, and while they never felt as much like home as Lurelin did, Link knew these winding streets like the back of his hand. Somehow, somehow, he did.

Link walked further into the heart of Castle Town, stepping around rubble and bones as he did. There had been a caravan here on this corner with an old man that sold colorful little puppets on strings, and across the road a man and his son who sold masks, their wide grins mirroring the ones carved into the wood. Here, on this corner, had been a stall of Lurelin street food, the closest to home cuisine Link could get this side of the Dueling Peaks. The ruins reeked of memories, and as Link stepped around what was left of a shattered glass box, the familiarity of the alleyway took over. 

Zelda has never been to Lurelin. The village isn’t big enough to be on most maps, not like Gerudo Town or Zora’s Domain, and she soaked up every story of his hometown like a sponge. When a Lurelin cuisine stall opened she was beyond excited, grinning when he takes her wrist and drags her out of the castle. 

She taps the glass of the tank of softshell bright eyed crabs.

“Hello!” She says to it in a high-pitched, cutesy voice. “Who’s the sweetest little crab in the tub?”

The stall owner, a dark-skinned man with elegant braids, chuckles. “Would you like a sample, your Majesty? Free of charge, of course.”

“Oh, thank you, that would be lovely.”

The man picks up a pair of tongs and picks up a carb. Zelda watches in horror as he places it on the counter, picks up a knife, and plunges it into the crab’s spinal cord. He spoons a ladle full of green chunky sauce on the shell and presents it to her.

“R--raw??” She says, looking at Link with wide eyes. “And-- the shell on?”

Link grins. ‘I promise it’s good! Trust me.’

Hesitantly, Zelda brings the crab up to her mouth.

“It has eyes.” She mumbles but then takes a bite. The softshell gives easily under her teeth and the green sauce smears on her lips. Her eyes light up, and she eagerly takes another.

“Good, isn’t it?” The stall owner says, and she nods. Link brushes a strand of hair out of the mess of green on her cheek. 

“It’s fantastic!” She says through her full mouth, and Link laughs.

“What’s in the sauce?”

“Snails and kelp.” 

Zelda looks at the crab in her hands with a furrowed brow and a puckered mouth. “Snails and kelp…” 

Link nods, delight clear on his face. This is a part of him, and now this culture is in her hands. Zelda pulls a handkerchief from her pocket and wipes her mouth. “You’re right, it’s delicious. Thank you.” 

Her smile is small but beaming and Link’s stomach is warm, and then the memory shifts. Zelda’s eyes widened in horror, cheeks pale, face smudged with ash and soot, hair wild, mouth smeared with blood from a split lip. Her bottom lip trembles. 

“Link--!”

Link’s hand is firm on her bicep as he drags her through Castle Town’s streets. 

“We can’t leave them! Link, we can’t--” A chorus of screams rips through the air as the building behind them explodes, sending stone flying. A woman crumples under the weight of the fallen building. The skittering sound of a Guardian picks up speed and the crowd is torn between pulling the fallen from the rubble or running. Link makes up Zelda’s mind for her. He yanks her forwards and shoves her up the road, away from the growing number of Guardians. Another scream rips out behind them as a child trips and is promptly trampled. Zelda drops to her knees and forces the crowd to part, dragging the girl into the open air. Her head doesn’t resemble a head anymore. Zelda chokes on a sob. Link grabs hold of her shoulders and tries to pull her up, but she shakes him off. 

“No, no no no--”

I know! Link wants to scream. I see the flames too! I hear screaming too! But it won’t mean anything if you die here! With a growl, he wraps his arms around her waist and heaves her up. Clutching her to him, he pushes through the crowd, dipping through the soldiers’ walkways to avoid the pile-up under the portcullis. Zelda’s chest heaves against him.

“We have to go back, we have to go back--” She whispers near hysterically against his throat and Link raises one hand and runs it through her hair. Her breath is hot and terrified on his exposed skin. 

They make it to the grass past the walls of Castle Town. The smell of smoke and cooking bodies is overwhelming, and the sky is grey with ash. Fire rages behind them and blasts of blue light rip the city to shreds. The Guardians are moving, crawling up the walls into the outside, blasting into crowds of people, and sending body parts flying. Zelda screams as a flaming, bleeding torso rolls before them. Link cradles her closer. Taking cover in the shadows of the soldiers’ walkway he places her down and turns her face from the carnage. 

‘I need you to look at me and listen.’ he signs, and Zelda nods mutely. 

‘We need to get you somewhere safe. We’ll follow the waterside path to Fort Hateno and load up on supplies, then move through Kakariko. We’ll evacuate every noncombatant we can and take every Sheikah soldier we can and move to Akkala. The citadel will offer safety for the citizens and the soldiers can help reinforce the fort. No one will be able to get past that stronghold. My father will be there. He’ll keep you safe. I promise.’

“And what about you?” Zelda whispers.

‘I’ll be by your side, always.’ 

The memory flickered and faded leaving Link gasping as he leaned against a crumbling stone wall. His hearing came back in waves, the sound of Guardians skittering around a hundred years ago mixing with the ones dragging their decayed selves around the ruins of Castle Town in the present. The face of a child trampled to death, of flaming body parts, of the Princess’ horror-filled eyes clung to the back of his eyeballs.

Breath.

Fi’s voice trickled through his mind, soothing away the lingering terror. 

It is a time that has passed. There is no point dwelling on what has happened-- focus on what can be fixed.

Link nodded and swallowed. He stood and shook out his hands. It was time that had passed. Now was a time for movement. He moved past the safety of the wall back into the streets. Slowly, he drew the Master Sword. She sang in his hand. He moved through the empty streets to the main square. A fountain that once gurgled gallons and gallons of water sat empty and covered in mold. Past it, giant metal doors. The gates to Hyrule Castle. 

Rust covered them, but the intricate carvings were still present. Link could almost remember the Princess’ hand in his on a sunny morning, pointing to each corner and curve to tell him the legends behind it. Now they were stained with oxidation. 

The shadow of Skywatcher Guardians drifted across the cobblestone. Behind the gate, the castle loomed. Link had been in awe the first time he saw it, standing by his father’s side. Now, dread pooled in his stomach, held at bay by the warmth of the Master Sword. Link soaked up the building from the safety of the shadows, away from the Skywatcher’s views. The columns surrounding the castle glowed, casting the castle in a ghostly, eerie light, which was only helped by the swirling purple malice. If Castle Town reeked of malice now, Link could only imagine how much it would stink inside the castle walls. The smell of malice was always overwhelming, the smell of rotting and something that could only be described as dark that settled in the lungs and wrapped around his heart. 

He was not looking forward to feeling that again. Gulping in his last breath of semi-clean air, he tightened his grip on the Master Sword’s hilt and made a dash for the door, weaving between the Skywatchers’ gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, echoing in his ears. He squeezed through the gate, finally leaving Castle Town behind him. He stepped onto the smashed cobblestone that lead up to the entrance of Hyrule Castle, Master Sword hot in his hand, and moved forward into the belly of the beast. 

---

Link was right about the stench of the malice-- it turned the air greasy and dripped like condensation from every wall. It settled heavily in his chest, like a gaseous tumor. His eyes stung with it, and where the mist touched him his skin sizzled, searing off arm hair and stubble. His left arm was untouched-- Fi’s warmth radiated up it, golden and pure, and the malice fled from it. Slowly the internal light moved from his arm through every inch of him. The malice lept back, hissing at the holy protection.

‘Thank you,’ Link thought, and the Master Sword hummed with pleasure in his hand. He squeezed the hilt fondly. The entire castle was crawling with monsters, which he had expected, and tall stationary turret Guardians, which he had not. Darting between rubble and stone, he made it to the arching front doors of the castle-- shit.

The giant wood had fallen in over itself and become an anchor for a writhing tower of malice. There was no way he was getting through that. He needed another way. Link carefully moved down the left most side of the castle, ducking into the first open door he saw. Everything was dark, but the Master Sword glowed in his hand, providing a brilliant blue light, just enough to see by. Lifting the sword, Link moved deeper into the castle. He could hear monsters, the sounds of their growls and howls echoing through the walls but didn’t see anything. For now, he was completely alone. 

Link’s footsteps echoed through the halls as he wandered, finally coming to the barest amount of light. He lowered his sword. A doorway stood against a wall, hastily barricaded with a bookshelf. Judging by the skeleton leaning against the wall, clothes riddled with bite marks and claw marks, the barricade did little to keep out Ganon’s minions. Light barely seeped in from the other side of the door, but even the slightest bit of light promised a way out of the winding tunnels he’d found himself in. He pushed against the bookshelf, which groaned in reply. It shifted just enough to open an opening large enough for Link to shimmy through. Tucking the Master Sword to his side, he did just that. 

He blinked at the sudden light, squinting his eyes. Towering bookshelves multi-stories high lined the walls with a surprising number of books intact. Elegant wood tables were sprawled out across the cracked marble floor, broken and rotting, and the once red carpet was now brown with age and filth. Lounging on the floor and picking meat from their teeth was a pair of lizalfos, but they were different, unlike anything Link had ever seen. Their skin was silver and black, the scales spiked and blood stained. The needle-like teeth in their powerful jaws were as long as his middle finger and serrated on both edges. Whatever kind of lizalfos they were, they wouldn’t go down easily. That much he could tell. 

Despite that, Master Sword practically vibrated in his hand, singing for a fight. Alright, he would give her one. The closest lizalfo crunched the bone in its mouth in two and Link lunged. 

The second lizalfo, distinguished from the other by a scar across its shoulder that had torn off scales, leaving behind white flesh, squealed and rushed to the first’s aid-- Link kicked him away and lashed out at the first. It ducked to the side, missing Link’s sword by a hair, and picked up a blood coated tri-boomerang. It swung at Link’s head and Link ducked, ramming into it and sending the both of them falling back into the muddy carpet. They rolled, the lizalfo landing on top, and Link shoved the Master Sword between its jaws as it snapped at his neck. The Master Sword glowed, brighter and brighter and brighter, and with a spike of strength Link didn’t know he had, he lunged forward with the blade and sliced the lizalfo’s head in two, severing the upper jaw from lower. The lizalfo’s half-headless corpse slid to the side and the second lizalfo screamed. 

It rushed Link, claws swinging, and Link slammed the hilt of the Master Sword into its neck. It gagged and Link sliced diagonally, opening up scaled skin-- hot intestines slipped out of the slice and onto the floor, and the lizalfo’s eyes rolled back before it thudded to the ground. Link let out a deep breath, and Fi beamed in his hand. Regardless of how beautiful the blade was, this sword was meant for battle. For violence. 

The thought made Link frown, insides tight. Did that mean he was designed for violence too? Fi sent a soothing pulse up his arm in reply.

You are yourself, nothing more, nothing less. You create your reality. Her Grace created your soul to protect, but only you can choose how to do so. 

‘Thank you,’ he thought, stepping over the monster’s smoking organs. 

You are my master. It is only right that I care for you.

Link laughed. ‘Of course.’ 

He sheathed his sword and promptly tripped over a bunched-up corner of the carpet. He sat upon his knees and wiped his hands on his trousers. The carpet was caught under a bookshelf, but there was a blackness behind the wooden back. A room. 

Standing, Link stuck his head behind the bookshelf. Yup, that was a room. Pulling the bookshelf back a bit, he crawled through the small space into a spacious room. He coughed-- the room was covered in dust, and each step on the plush carpet sent up clouds of it. The room had been mostly protected from the destruction of the castle, all of it untouched save for rotting wood and mold damage. A book sat open on a large desk, the ink from a broken inkpot spilled across the pages, and as Link looked over it, he froze. He knew that handwriting. He had poured over similar writing once the old-man-who-was-once-a-king vanished from the Great Plateau, leaving a diary behind. With hesitant, hungry fingers, Link picked it up and flipped back a few pages.

Today, as the sun rose and a new day was born, my daughter, too, joined this sweet world. In keeping with the traditions of the royal family, I have decided to name her...Zelda.

The letters smudged under his fingertips, faded with age. He flipped further into the book.

My queen has left this world. Her death was so sudden and unexpected, I awaken most nights unsure if she is really gone. Zelda never cried, never faltered. Not even during the royal funeral or later when she and I were alone with our grief. I must assume her strength is a result of us repeatedly informing her of her duty to be a valiant and steady princess.

He flipped again, paper delicate and flakey. 

My heart breaks for Zelda, but I must act as a king, not a father. I must order her to train relentlessly at the fountain---

---Those in the castle talk behind her back. And I, her only family, scold her for her shortcomings. No wonder she wishes to hide away in her beloved relic research. I'd love nothing more than to console her… But I must stay strong. She MUST fulfill her duty, just as we all must. Even if she comes to despise me---

---For now, I sit anxiously, more a father than a king in this moment. I sit and await my daughter's return---

Link slowly closed the book. More a father than a king…

He slid the book into his bag. He would give it to the Princess when they met again. She deserved a piece of her father. 

Rubbing the dust out of his eyes, Link wiggled his way back into the library. He stepped over the cooling lizalfos corpses and moved out of the library, back into dark hallways. He followed the twists and turns, moving right or left with surprising certainty when he needed to. He’d moved these halls in the dead of night when everything was dark and silent-- he may not remember those nights, but his body remembered the way. He jerked to a stop at a door snuggled in an archway. He fixed his eyes on the wood. He knew this door. He knew this door and knew it personally, knew what it held inside. The door shuddered but stayed shut the first time he pushed. With a grunt, he shoved his shoulder into the door hard and it slammed open in a cloud of soot. Grimy marble stairs curved up and up to a new door. A table had been shoved in front of it, along with two chairs, and two bodies leaned up against the walls, blades still in hand. The dry, closed-off air had prevented complete decay. Papery, brown skin clung to the skeleton’s cheekbones and jaw, drawn back from the lips and exposing broken teeth. The royal guard’s uniform was in tatters, bite marks and claw marks ripping throughout the tunics. Whomever these guards had been, they had defended this room to the death. 

Link crawled onto the table and pushed the door. It groaned but gave with a cloud of dust. 

The room inside was untouched, and the sight of it hit Link like a punch to the gut, jaw, and groin. He gasps, wrapping his arms around his middle, and soaked in the room as his eyes flickered from furniture to furniture, corner to corner. He knew this room. He knew each and every inch. He sat on that bed, boots kicked off to keep mud off the pale blue sheets, curled up around Zelda as she cried when the pressure on her shoulder became too much. They sat on the now dusty, faded rug, knees pressed together as she read out loud to him or he watched her tinker with her Sheikah slate. He shared the space with Impa and Urbosa and Revali (on the rare occasion he’d drag himself to Hyrule Castle), shared laughter and smiles and tears and sunrises and sunsets. 

This was Zelda’s room, and every inch exposed to the sunlight from the hole in the ceiling was completely covered in silent princesses. The room was filled with their sweet, subtle scent, and their white petals glimmered in the light. They crawled up the walls, poked out under the rugs, and grew from the cracks in the rotting wood. Link knelt to one and ghosted his fingers over its pale petals. 

“It seems the princess,” Zelda echoed in his ears, “can only exist in the wild.”

Link drew himself up. He took a deep breath, drawing in the soft smell of the flowers, and turned on his heels. She was here. She was here and he would save her. Fi hmmed in pleased agreement on his back, and he climbed back out into the hallway and over the bones, leaving the Princess’ room behind him. 

---

Link felt like he had been walking through these winding halls for hours. He wasn’t sure quite how long he’d spent in the malice-thick gloom, occasionally dodging Guardian lasers and silver creatures, Fi glowing in his hand all the while. It would help if he had any damn idea where the damn pig was! He’d been following the malice for the past hour. It made sense that it would get thicker the closer he got, and it certainly was getting thicker, but he felt like he was walking in circles. Still, the sheer amount of malice that surrounded him made it surprising when he turned a corner and found no malice at all.

None. Huh. 

The doorway was a huge archway of cracked white marble, and the door had once been made of colored glass. The glass was shattered into a rainbow on the floor, but the thin golden frames remained. The lock crumbled under Link’s hand, and he pushed open the door.

The air was clean and free of the grease of malice. Even after a hundred years, the smell of incense lingered. Glass crunched under his feet and the white marble was inlaid with intricate mosaics. They told stories of a golden goddess and a hero beside her, each square echoing another story. A pirate dressed as a princess. A princess turned to stone. A man-wolf, a child holding a sword too big for them, and over and over a golden power, be it in the form of a bow, a triangle, or the princess herself. 

And in the center of the room stood the most beautiful Goddess statue Link had ever seen. It certainly wasn’t as large as the one in the Temple of Time, but the detail was unbelievable. The dress’ folds were so thin that light could be seen through them, draped organically over the Goddess’ fat curves. The feathers on her wings were individually carved and painted in gold and silver, and the Goddess’ hands and feet were covered in jeweled chains. Her hair was painted in vibrant colors, and the circlet on her brow dripped with diamonds. An empty pond surrounded her, littered with the bones of fish that once swam in the water. On his back, the Master Sword nearly vibrated with energy. When Link drew her, she shook even more, the blade so hot it glowed blue-white. 

Link stepped to the edge of the pond and sat, careful of the glass, feet hanging off the side. 

‘You said you knew Her-- Hylia.’ He thought, and the Fi sang a conformation into his mind.

She was beautiful in a way no mortal creature can ever be. Even your Princess with her holy power could never hold a candle to Her brilliance.

‘You speak of Her as if She’s gone.’

Not gone merely… far away. She split off so much of Herself during the Beginning-- The Great War, creating me, protecting Her first people, creating the cycle of rebirth and reincarnation that has brought you here today. She is far from what She once was, living beyond this world with Her Sisters in the Sacred Realm. Din, Nayru, Farore-- They keep watch over Her now. They love Her, and that love keeps Her strong. 

‘You love Her.’

The Fi was silent, contemplating. 

More than anything I know. Defeating this Calamity… it will prove that Her sacrifice to become the power passed down through your people’s royal bloodline was a wise one. 

‘Then I will not fail.’

I know you will not. We should go. The longer we spent still, the longer the Princess waits.

Link nodded. Master Sword in hand, he moved through the back doors of the sanctuary into the grim light of the highest most outer paths that surrounded the castle. Looming over him was Hyrule Castle’s greatest spire, the steps to the Sanctum completely covered in malice. He knew, somehow, that Zelda was there in that throne room, waiting for him.

He moved with purpose up the steps, over the half rotten bones of fallen soldiers, until he stood under the Sanctum’s towering arch. The room inside was unrecognizable. The walls were covered in swirling purple and black slime, the gaps in malice only visible where the room had crumbled away. Most disgusting, however, was the bulbous cocoon pulsing on the ceiling. It wriggled like a bot fly in a carcass, dripping malice onto the floor. Each time it shuddered the room shuddered with it.

“Link!”

Link almost didn’t hear the voice—it was faint and exhausted, but Fi perked up at the sound. It called out his name again—Zelda.

“I’m sorry… but my power… isn’t strong enough. I’ll--!”

The bulbous sack exploded, cutting off her words, and two things fell to the Sanctum’s titled floor. The first: a girl in white, tattered but glowing with holy light. The second: a hideous amalgamation of Sheikah tech, malice, and something uniquely foul. The sight clung to his very core, stinking of wrongness.

Link bolted to Zelda’s side, helping her to her knees. His skin prickled when he touched her, gooseflesh rising across his arms.

“Link, I—” she began to say, eyes shining, and then the floor buckled. The castle groaned underneath them and the tile floor began to crack. Link realized what was happening a second before Zelda did. He shoved her back just in time for the floor to cave in, sending him and the creature spiraling down below.

---

Link picked himself up with a groan. Ganon had not yet stirred, and Fi was brilliantly hot on his back. Her blade sang for blood, for vengeance, and Link was more than ready to give it to her. With a hiss, Calamity Ganon pulled itself to its full height. It towered, somehow both machine, monster, and man, and Link drew his blade. For a moment Ganon was still, studying both him and the abyss they had found themselves in before the shattered remains of the floor above them began to shake. Dust rained down, followed by the most brilliantly blue light Link had ever seen.

Ganon screamed as the blasts from the Divine Beasts rained down on it, writhing on the floor. Link’s chest swelled with pride. Mipha, Urbosa, Daruk, Revali. Together, they would annihilate Ganon. They had done their duty, now it was time for him to do his. Finally, the light died down. Link’s eyes struggled to adjust to the returning gloom but Ganon was still impossible to miss. Steaming sluggishly and shaking on its feet, it screamed.

Link was tired. Tired of waiting, of walking, of leaving behind loved ones, tired of forgetting. He screamed back.

Ganon reared back a massive, bladed, red-hot arm and slammed it down. Link rolled to the side and slid back up with ease, but the lick of fire the blade spat out was a surprise. He jumped back, unsteady, as the flames brushed his boots. Ganon jerked forwards, swinging two arms tipped with serrated blades at where Link’s torse. He dropped to the ground. Ganon jumped at the sudden opening, slamming down a speared hand, and Link only just rolled out of the way. He jumped up and squeezed the Master Sword’s handle before drawing Revali’s bow. The ancient arrow flew perfectly, and Ganon screamed when it collided with its head. Ganon clawed at its burning, bleeding face, giving Link the opening to rush forward and swing, taking off one of its seemingly endless hands.

Left side, Fi whispered into his brain, and Link jumped to the left, missing Ganon’s blind swing. It drew itself back up again, partially recovered. Link and Ganon danced around the other as Link inched closer and closer, drawing more and more blood. Finally, he was right under it and stabbed upwards at the neck.

Ganon roared and grabbed him with an oversized hand, lifted him in the air, and squeezed. Link gasped as his ribs groaned, straining to breathe, and Fi slipped from his fingers.

No!

He struggled, only for the fingers to grow tighter. Whiteness clouded his vision. No, he refused to die this way—He managed to wrap his fingers around the hunting knife at his side and wiggle it free. With all his strength he drew it up and slashed; Ganon dropped him with a wail as two fingers were sliced clean off.

Link’s lungs struggled to remember how to breathe as he fought to take it air, and he crawled to where the Master Sword lay abandoned.

Master! She almost seemed to scream when his fingers touched his hilt. If the circumstances were different, it would feel nice to be worried about. He drew himself to his feet. A blade came at him as Ganon threw an arm down and Link met it head-on with his own blade. He couldn’t keep up like this. Ganon was too big; fighting like this would only tire him out. He retreated back into the shadows. He’d need to bring Ganon to his level first. He once again drew the Great Eagle Bow and let off a volley of ancient arrows, aiming at joints and any connection where blade met body.

Breathe in, breath out, like the fletching brush by—

Ganon squealed as limbs went limp and sunk to the ground, stunned. Every few arrows, Link ran forward and stabbed at its exposed joints and articulation. Ganon’s head slumped in reach—Link reared back and sunk his blade hilt deep into a glowing eye. With an inhuman sound, Ganon threw him back into the far wall. Link kept his grip tight on the Master Sword this time. He breathed heavily though his mouth as Ganon reared up and began to thrash. Surely it couldn’t be that easy?

No, it couldn’t. The creature began to glow, almost chuckling as its eyes found him. Link let loose an arrow and it ‘plinked!’ harmlessly off its glowing hide.

Fuck.

Fi whispered encouragements as he drew himself up. He rushed Ganon and the beast easily brushed aside his attack with a bladed limb. It drew up a giant fist. For a moment Link was confused—then the center of the fist exploded.

The white-blue hot beam threw him back; he slammed against the far wall and rolled to the ground, bouncing on his side. His breath rattled in his ears as he tried to move his body. His right arm was obviously broken. Even if the pain wasn’t as bright as it was, he could see the fucking bone. He slapped out the burning spots on his tunic with his good hand and forced himself up. He snapped his teeth together and slammed his hand over the bone.

Calling Mipha’s Grace was excruciating. His whole body seemed to shudder, rejecting the pain, unable to understand why he could possibly be doing this to himself, and he forced himself to stay present as he worked, dodging Ganon’s attacks. He tasted blood. He must have bitten through his tongue. It was okay, he could handle pain. What he couldn’t do was fight with one arm.

Ganon raised its laser, but this time Link was ready. He rolled out of the way well in time. So ranged attacks wouldn’t work. He’d just have to get closer. Spitting out blood, Link ran. He stopped short of slamming into the creature, and surprisingly it seemed it was too big to see him properly. Link used that to his advantage, staying just underneath Ganon and hacking away at it from there.

Ganon swung its head down low looking for him, exposing its neck. Link grinned, lifted his sword, and stabbed upwards. Ganon screamed. It thrashed, threatening to throw him off, but Link held firm, twisting up into the putrid flesh. Purple blood spilled out, completely soaking him, and Link stabbed up again and again and again. Finally, Ganon slowed and slumped down. Link took a step back. Blood gushed from the creature. Jaw set, Link lifted his sword to hack off its head and finish the deed.

Almost as if it could read his mind, Ganon began to shift. It bubbled, melting for a moment before rising up in a cloud of black smoke, leaving Link behind.

Link swore, sheathed the Master Sword, ran to a wall, and began to climb. He couldn’t let it get away, couldn’t—suddenly, he felt warm. Something impossibly soft enveloped him and all he could see was warm, golden light. Fi leaped with joy and Link realized what this was. It was Hylia’s magic. It was Zelda’s power. It lifted him up and for a moment Link was everything and nothing, the entire world, the heavens, the shadows below, then suddenly none of it as the light faded and put him down. The warmth was gone, leaving him under a blood red sky in Hyrule Field. Surprisingly, Epona nuzzled his shoulder from where he had left her. Unsurprising and very unwelcome was the black swirling something before him. Its screaming was unlike anything Link had ever heard before, like all the Beasts’ screeching combined with the battle cry of a lynel and the wailing of a midnight ghost. Ganon swirled above him before coming down in a hailstorm, smashing onto the grass and thrashing on the ground before rearing up and coming together as some kind of beast. It grew larger and larger, coiling together to create hulking legs made of malice, a writhing purple and black body, and a boar’s head with meters long tusks.

The Dark Beast snarled as the sky darkened, and Link’s heart sank. How could he possibly fight that?

He took in a deep breath, but it did little to steady him. Suddenly, he felt something grab his tunic. He swirled around, Master Sword drawn but found a pale face and bright eyes behind him instead of a monster.

Zelda’s face was set with determination. He wanted to take the time to study the lines of her face, her wobbling hands, but it wasn’t possible now—they didn’t have the time to spare. He put his hand over hers where had she grabbed him and bobbed his head in acknowledgment.

“Link—This Dark Beast, Ganon, is the pure embodiment of the ancient evil that has been reborn time and time again since the Beginning.” She told him, voice grave. “After centuries, he has given up on reincarnation, assuming a form of pure rage and hatred. If it is not stopped, its destruction will be unlike any ever seen before. I know I’ve already asked so much of you, but we can’t let it break free.”

Link nodded, jaw set. ‘What do you need me to do?’

Zelda cupped her hands together and blew on her palms. Light flickered in them, growing and twisting into a golden bow.

“This is the Bow of Light—it’s been passed down my bloodline for generations, carrying with it the power to destroy any darkness in its path. Take it. I shall help break through Ganon’s malice, and then you must fire and break through its hide. Together we shall bring it to its knees.”

Link took hold of the bow and the cluster of arrows Zelda had created out of nothing. He pressed them to his chest. Zelda looked at him, her eyes set with resolve and power, but still so sad.

“Link, I—I’m sorry. I don’t know how much of this world, of… me… that you remember, but I have never lost faith. Wherever you find yourself—”

Link slung the bow over his shoulder. ‘Memory or no, I made a promise to this land. I swear I’ll keep it.

Courage need not be remembered, Fi echoed in his mind, for it is never forgotten.

Link hoisted himself onto Epona’s back and offered Zelda a hand, which she gladly took. She slung a filthy leg over and settled behind the saddle.

“Let’s go.”

Link flicked the reins and drew an arrow. The air around him seemed to pop, pressure building as they approached, making it hard to breathe. Zelda breathed out a prayer Link couldn’t understand, then raised her hands from off his waist into the sky.

If Link thought Fi felt warm, felt holy, then Zelda felt like an inferno. She burned behind him, eating through his layers of skin, but Link knew it would not harm him. The Dark Beast howled as sections of the malice coating its body began to retreat, exposing rotting, oozing skin.

“I will hold its malice back as much as I can, but my powers are waning. Attack any openings you see! The Bow will fly true.”

Link lined up a shot with the first bare patch of flesh he saw. The Bow of Light’s arrows didn’t move in an arc, instead moving forward in a straight line and slamming into Ganon. Where its light touched the flesh retreated, exposing swirling black. Zelda gasped and slunk onto his back, chest heaving. Link turned to look over his shoulder, but she rested a hand on his neck.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I just need a moment.”

Link nodded and flicked the reins again, bringing them closer. With a shuddering sigh, Zelda drew herself back up.

“There, now’s your chance! I can’t hold it much longer.”

Link raised the Bow again and let as many arrows as he could air fly, one right after the other, moving closer and closer. He veered Epona to the side as Ganon let out a scream, followed by a giant laser that ripped out the ground, setting everything in sight alight.

The temperature began to drop as the sky turned to pitch, and together Link and the Princess steadily ate away at the creature. It dropped to one knee, giant chest heaving, and in the center of its face Link saw a crevice open up, exposing the very heart of the Dark Beast. Link raised his Bow. He knew what he had to do. Standing up in the stirrups, he let a final arrow fly.

The world went silent. Not quiet, but the utter absence of sound. Behind him, Zelda dropped off the horse and stepped to face the Dark Beast head-on.

She glowed so bright that it almost hurt to look at her, and the holy heat coming from her was unbearable. Light came off her in waves, and on his back Fi sang words of devotion. The Beast screamed, charging her, but Zelda simply held up a glowing hand. The Beast stopped as if frozen; light exploded off the Princess, his Princess, wrapping around the Beast. A swirling set of triangles stood guard over her as Ganon thrashed. Ganon shed its form, showing instead a black swirling mass, and Zelda raised her hand to the sky.

There was nothing but white. The light covered everything in its path, a wall of power, of protection, and ripped Ganon to shreds. It tried to flee but Zelda’s power wrapped around it, squeezing and squeezing until it was but a pinprick of light in the sky—

And then there was nothing. The sky was blue, the sound was back, and after a hundred years, Calamity Ganon was gone.

Zelda collapsed and Link ran to her side, helping her lie in his lap until she found her strength. With wonder in her eyes, she reached up and rested a still hot hand on his cheek.

“I’ve witnessed everything you’ve done… your struggles in battle… saving of our friends… your own growth… I always thought—no, I always believed—that you would find a way to defeat Ganon. I never lost faith in you over all these years…

May I ask… do you really remember me?”

Link wasn’t sure how to answer, didn’t know if he’d ever be sure. Instead, he wiped the growing tears from her eyes and cradled her to his chest, tucking his face in her neck.

It was answer enough.

---

Eventually, they had to move. Link stood and helped Zelda to her feet. Water dripped down her face—not tears, but rain. Link laughed, a soft breathy thing at first and then booming, body shaking, as he doubled over. Zelda looked at him with wild concern.

‘It’s raining,’ Link signed. ‘It always rains.’

Zelda sagged on her feet and Link wrapped an arm around her, letting her lean her weight on his side.

“I want to see the castle.” She whispered.

Link nodded. ‘We can do that.’

Link helped her into Epona’s saddle. There was no way she could walk all the way there, and frankly, he thought she would benefit from moving through Castle Town as fast as possible. As they left the city and approached the castle gates her breath caught. Link could hear her tears even if he couldn’t see them.

“I don’t know why I wanted to come here.” She breathed, twisting her fists in her skirts. “There’s nothing left for me.”

Link softly took hold of her chin and turned her face so she could see him.

‘Urbosa can’t wait to see you. And Revali. And Mipha and Sidon and Daruk and his grandson. Impa has become chief of Kakariko. She has a granddaughter who would love to meet you. You have people who love you, who are waiting for you. You are not alone.’

Zelda wiped her eyes with the back of her fist. “Of course.” She lifted her head and swallowed deeply, but her back trembled with exhaustion. “Of course.”

---

Now that the sky was blue and the rain was merely a drizzle, Link could get a proper look at the Princess. The past hundred years had not been kind to her—her skin was pale from years of exhaustion, eyes bloody with burst blood vessels, and the dirt, ash, and blood from that horrible night a hundred years ago still stained her skin. Streaks of clean skin covered her bare shoulders, arms, and cheeks from the rain, and the wetness had turned the bloody stains on her skin pink. The bags under her eyes looked more like bruises, and she was thinner than he remembered; her muscles had atrophied, shaking with exhaustion simply from standing. Link didn’t know much about medicine, but he knew she would need some kind of physical therapy to help her rebuild her strength.

The gold on her ceremonial dress was tarnished, the white fabric filthy and torn, but on her feet were his old boots. She had never taken them off.

‘You kept the boots.’ He signed, and Zelda smiled softly.

“Of course, I did.”

Zelda took long sips from his water canteen. Epona had settled on a canter, which turned the two days or so hike from Central Hyrule to Kakariko that Link first experienced when he left the Great Plateau into a five-hour trip. It had been mostly silent; Zelda was exhausted, and Link wasn’t feeling much better, and Epona—bless her—hadn’t had much rest since the Lost Woods. Zelda and Link instead passed water back and forth, though if Link made sure the Princess drank more than he did neither of them said anything.

Zelda made them stop when they reached the split of the Dueling Peeks and the mouth of the Peak’s river, slipping off of Epona’s back and refusing any help, then stumbling to the river’s edge. Link wasn’t sure how long they stayed there while the Princess stared into the dark water, but the whole time she didn’t move, eyes caught on the fast-moving water. Every so often she would bury her hands in the mud, squishing it between her fingers, and finally, Link placed a hand on her shoulder, motioning back to Epona and she nodded solemnly.

It was quiet and uneventful until they reached Dueling Peaks Stable. Link had long since gotten over his unease surrounding Ash Swamp. His death had been a century ago—there was no point in dwelling on it or agonizing over having to pass Ash Swamp any time he wanted to go to Kakariko. The swamp would be there whether he wanted it to be or not, and it would be easiest for him to learn to live with it—so he had learned to.

Zelda had not had the time to learn to live with it.

 Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the dozens of dead Guardians surrounding the Stable and the sticky, muddy ground of the swamp. She went stiff as a board in the saddle.

“I—I forgot. We shouldn’t have gone this way, I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have had to look at this—Link I’m so sorry—”

Link gently twisted her head so she could see his hands. ‘It’s been a long, long time, your Majesty, since that night. It doesn’t hurt me in the same way it used to.’

Zelda nodded hesitantly, and Link wrapped his arms around her, giving her a little squeeze. They continued on past the bend and up into the arching Pillars of Levia until the clinking of wooden talisman could be heard in the wind, followed by the sweet smell of the lilies on Lantern Lake. Zelda’s shoulders stiffened as Kakariko came into view and Link leaned forward to squeeze her hands on the reins. He slipped off Epona’s back and took hold of the reins, leading the horse and the Princess down the sloping paths and bridges until they reached Impa’s home. Zelda’s eyes lingered on the Goddess Statue before she let out a shaky breath and took Link’s offered hand. He helped her down and let her sling her arm around his waist as they made it up the stairs.

Zelda swallowed. On unstable feet, she moved forward and pushed open the door.

Inside, Dorian and Cado sat on the floor, listening intently as Paya wound red yarn around and around her hands, explaining the importance behind some protection prayer, her grandmother smiling with pride from her cushion. At the sound of the door, the four of them looked up.

“Link!” Paya cried with a bright smile, but she turned to her grandmother with concern at Impa’s deep embodied gasp.

“Impa,” Zelda said with bright exhaustion, and the old woman was up in an instant, barreling into Zelda with more speed than should be possible at her age.

Zelda took her into her arms, burying her face in Impa’s shoulder and breathing in deeply. Impa drew her face forward and took it in her hands.

“Impa…” Zelda said with a soft smile, “you—”

“Got old,” Impa said wryly, and Zelda gave out a watery chuckle.

“We saw lights in the sky,” Paya said, standing. “And the sky turned red. We could hear howling, and the ground was shaking. We didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing when it stopped.”

‘Ganon is dead.’ Link signed, answering the question the whole room was holding back. ‘The Divine Beasts did their job, and Ganon has been obliterated. The Princess made sure of that.’

Impa ran her thumb under Zelda’s eye. “You did wonderfully, my friend.”

Zelda smiled and kissed Impa’s wrinkly forehead.

“Your arm!” Paya cried, running to Link’s side and gently pushing back his torn sleeve to reveal his black and blue arm.

‘It’s much better than it was!’ Link signed, ‘It was an open fracture.’

Paya’s gasped, squeezing his hand, and Zelda’s head whipped around.

“You didn’t tell me you were injured!”

‘It didn’t seem important!’

Paya’s face drooped. “Your health is always important, Link.”

Link shrugged her off. ‘I had Mipha’s Grace. I’m fine.’

Zelda sighed, stepping away from Impa. “Despite everything, you still haven’t changed, have you?”

The comment made Link’s skin prickle, but he said nothing. He wanted to ask about the Champions—to ask about Revali—but now didn’t strike him as the time. Paya reached out a hand.

“May I?”

Zelda nodded and Paya took her hand, running her fingers around the thin, brittle fingers and filthy fingernails.

“You look like you could use a nice warm bath.” She said with a smile and Zelda laughed.

“I would love that.” She said and hesitantly pulled Paya into a hug. “I assume you are Impa’s grandchild that Link told me about?”

Paya squeaked, pulling away. “You talked about me?”

Link shrugged. ‘You’re a person worth talking about.’

Paya’s face flushed. Zelda rested a hand on her shoulder. “Link has always had a wonderful sense of character.”

“I’ll—I’ll go heat the water,” Paya said, turning on her heel and bounding up the stairs. Impa laughed, a bright, warm-hearted thing, and Zelda melted into her embrace once more when the old woman wrapped her arms around her from behind her.

‘I want to see the Champions,’ Link signed, finally feeling like he could. ‘I need to see them’ is what he really wanted to say, but he didn’t want to seem desperate.

“The Sheikah slate is connected to the Divine Beasts, which are intern connected in spirit to our Champions. If we call out from there they’ll know to come,” Zelda said, holding out a hand. Link place the slate in it. She flicked open the screen, fingers flying across it, before speaking into it.

“It’s me—Zelda, and Link. It’s been a long time, my friends. I’ve—I’ve missed you. We’ve succeeded in our task and are staying in Kakariko Village. Please, let’s meet again. I can’t wait to see you.”

The slate bleeped, glowing bright blue before going dark. “They should be here soon enough,” she said with a smile, handing back the slate. Link’s insides felt warm.

‘Thank you.’

“Thank you for saving them. You—you’ve done so much, Link.”

The warmth in his stomach turned green and sickly. ‘I’ve done what was expected of me.’

Zelda’s brow furrowed and she opened her mouth but before she could speak Paya reentered the room.

“The bath’s ready, your Highness.” She said, and Zelda nodded. Zelda took Link’s good wrist.

“Would… would you come with me?”

The other words she wouldn’t say out loud still hung in the air—I don’t want to be alone.

Link smiled, and Zelda hesitantly smiled back.

---

It took three baths for the water to run clean. The first turned black almost immediately, the water filthy and full of dried mud and soot, and the second was pink with blood. Zelda had refused to let Paya scrub the dried blood from her body and seeing that spark of fire inside of the exhausted girl Link had seen for the past day was a relief. Finally, the third bath’s water was relatively clean, scented with some kind of oil Paya dropped in and filled with bubbles. Paya ran a comb through Zelda's hair.

“Ow!” Zelda’s hand jerked to her hair as a comb tooth broke off for the second time.

“I’m sorry—the matting is awful. I don’t know if I can pick all of it out.” Paya said.

“Then cut it off.”

“Your Majesty!”

“I’m not a princess anymore, Paya. If you can’t fix it, cut it off.”

Paya bit her lip before sighing, standing, and moving to the door. “I’ll be right back, I’ll get some scissors”

The sound of her footsteps on the wooden floor echoed outside the steamy room and Zelda pulled her knees to her chest.

“May I ask you a question?” She said softly, almost too soft to hear. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Link nodded, sitting beside her outside the tub, her naked skin covered in bubbles.

“How much do you remember?”

He had been expecting that question. He curled and uncurled his fingers and sighed.

‘Bits and pieces. Enough, I guess? I remember I have a sister, but I don’t remember her face. I remember we’re friends, but I don’t remember why.’

Zelda swallowed and nodded. “I—I don’t want you to stay with me out of a sense of obligation. I can take care of myself; if you wish to leave, I won’t stop you.”

‘What? No—that’s not what I meant—’

“You have the right to do with your life what you desire.”

‘Zelda. I know I have things I wish to do. I want to see things I have forgotten; I want to travel. But for now, I’m staying by your side. I’ll know when the time comes to leave, and now is not that time.’

Fi hummed in agreement on his back, and Zelda’s face lit up.

“So, she still speaks to you after all this time?” She said with the biggest smile Link had seen on her since Ganon.

Do you have such little faith in my abilities?

Something felt different when Fi spoke to the both of them; a pulling sensation, strange but not unpleasant. His eyes were drawn to the pile of mats in Zelda’s hair. He reached out a hand and tried to run his fingers through the tangled mess.

“I want it off,” she said, “Like—like some sort of new beginning. A sign that the world is changing.”

Link shifted till he was behind her and carefully drew the Master Sword. Sure, he could wait for Paya to bring scissors but… this felt more… right?

He held up the Sword and with careful hands made his first cut, right at the shoulders. Clumps of tangled blond hair fell to the ground and Zelda let out a tiny sound. He moved with steady hands and sliced through tangles until a pile of hair sat on the ground. He brushed the yellow strands off her bare shoulders. Blond hair brushed her cheekbones, curling by her chin, and Zelda twisted her head to smile at him.

“How do I look?”

‘New.’

“Perfect.”

The sound of increasingly loud voices wafted up from downstairs, followed by the pounding of stairs. Link turned his back as Zelda grabbed a towel.

“Ma’am, if you would just wait a moment—” came Paya’s voice from outside the door, followed by shuffling.

“I have waited a hundred years—”

“She doesn’t have any clothes—”

“I’ve seen worse—”

“Ma’am, please!”

Zelda exchanged glances with Link, who raised an eyebrow. Suddenly, the door banged open. A very panicked Paya stood at the door with her hand raised to the level of her eyes, and next to her, scarlet hair windblown and dressed in more disarray than Link have ever seen her, near-death experience included, was Urbosa. Zelda let out a happy cry and, after clutching the towel tighter around her, threw herself into Urbosa’s open arms. The woman cradled Zelda’s head to her breast and Link realized that the Gerudo was crying. Urbosa ran her fingers through Zelda’s newly shorn hair, rocking her gently, and tears dripped down her bronze cheeks into Zelda’s hair. Zelda pulled back.

“Urbosa…” she said gently, reaching up with the hand not holding shut her towel and resting it on Urbosa’s cheek. Urbosa smiled, the sheer joy blinding.

“I never doubted you for a moment, little bird.”

“You got here fast,” Zelda said, voice thick and watery.

“As soon as Vah Naboris attacked, I started moving towards Central Hyrule. Good or bad outcome, I wanted to be there. You’d be surprised how fast a stone camel can move.”

Zelda laughed softly and Urbosa tucked a strand of wet golden hair behind her ear.

“What happened to your hair?”

“I needed a change. I hope you don’t mind.”

Urbosa placed a kiss on her forehead. “Why would I mind? You look beautiful—and you!” She turned to Link and pulled him into the hug, resting her chin on the crown of his head.

“You did fantastically.” She said softly, squeezing them tight. “I’m so proud of you.”

Paya cleared her throat in the doorway. Link hadn’t even realized she’d left or returned, holding a stack of neatly folded clothes in her arms.

“I brought some clothes for the Princess, and some for Link. I figured he’d want to bathe and wash his clothes.”

Link wrinkled his nose and picked at the hem of his blue tunic. It was crusted with mud. Maybe a bath wasn’t a bad idea. Zelda took a handful of clothes from Paya, linked hands with Urboosa, and pulled her towel closer. She tilted her head. Do you want me to stay? It said. Link smiled. I’m alright it said back, and Zelda nodded. Once the door shut, leaving him alone, he stripped off his Champion tunic and wound it around his hands. It was over. Fuck, it was over.

He dropped the tunic on the ground.

It was over.

---

The clothes Paya had found were soft. They were borrowed from someone from the village, and while Zelda’s cream, blue, and red linen fit her well, Link’s overshirt hung off his shoulders and pants had to be hiked up with a belt. In the time it took for Link to bathe Urbosa had put herself together, her hair brushed and pinned in a pile of elegant braids on the top of her hair, her outfit tied back into its intended place. Zelda leaned against her on their spot on the floor, almost in the older woman’s lap. The cushions that Paya had dug out for them all to sit on in Impa’s living room were well-loved, obviously used often.

“—Her name is Riju, after Neikana’s mother. She’s absolutely brilliant, Neikana would be so proud…”

Link drifted in and out of their conversation, Impa, Urbosa, and Zelda all piled together while Urbsoa described the life she’d begun carving out for herself in Gerudo Town, and laid back against the warm wood floors. Paya had brought out practically every blanket and pillow in the house, turning the front room into a giant lounge, and Link enjoyed the softness. He was tired. He wanted to rest, lulled to safety by the voice of his friends, both new and old. Link stretched and sighed, settling into the softness. He rapped his knuckles on the floor, gaining the women’s attention.

‘Do you remember when Neikana came to that big party at the castle and pounded that one knight into the dirt?’

“The one who didn’t realize she was the Chief?” Zelda said, and Link nodded. Impa wheezed.

“Oh, Urbosa, the look on your face, I thought you would have sliced him up then and there to defend her honor.”

Urbosa leaned back on her palms. “Neikana never needed me to defend any kind of honor. If someone was going to objectify her then she was more than capable of slicing his cock off.”

“I thought father was going to have a stroke trying to smooth things over—”

“—and then he pinned the blame on Mercer for training his men like dogs—”

Link grinned. ‘Father was furious, being talked down to by the king like that. It was a lovely sight.”

Suddenly, the front doors opened. Link and Zelda both sat up straighter, straining to see who stood in the doorway.

It seemed that unlike Urbosa, Mipha had taken the time to put herself together before rushing to Kakariko. Or maybe Link’s memory was still fresh with the sight of her green around the gills and wheelchair-bound, still weak from almost bleeding out a hundred years ago. Her Champion’s sash had been neatly pressed, and the old wound on her side had become a vicious, triumphant scar, decorated with a new belt of pearls and luminous stone. Based on the pattern, Link had a feeling it was a gift from Sidon. Her face softened and she stepped in, opening her arms to Zelda in a question. Zelda let Mipha wrap her arms around her, resting her chin on Mipha’s crest, and Link’s stomach tingled with warmth.

“Look at you,” Mipha said softly, pulling back. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“You’d give up on me so easily?” Zelda said, voice loving and teasing, and Mipha ran a hand through her newly cut hair.

“Just one to worry. The cut looks lovely.”

“Link did it himself,” Zelda said, and Mipha turned her too-big eyes to him.

“Link!” She said, face splitting into a smile, and threw her arms around her neck. “I knew you could do it.” She whispered, the words for his ears and his ears only. She pulled back. "Sidon misses you. You must visit.”

“Tea!” Paya said, shooting up, “I’ll make tea. Blue nightshade, for everyone. Kakariko specialty.”

“My old recipe,” Impa said, and Zelda cringed.

“Will you at least let me put sugar in it?”

“Link liked it!” Paya said, and Link forced a smile.

“Link was too nice to tell you how disgusting it tastes,” Zelda said with a good-natured smirk. Still, Paya vanished into another room, returning a few moments later with a steeping teapot and a tray of day-old biscuits.

“It’s all we had,” she said apologetically, but in a blink, Zelda had downed all of them.

“Careful,” Urbosa said, “or you’ll make yourself sick.”

“I’m ravenous. I haven’t eaten in a hundred years. Do you know how much energy it takes to hold back a creature of pure Malice? Let a girl eat!”

Urbosa ruffled her hair, and the group had just settled back down into the blankets and pillows when the doors slammed open.

“Little guy!” Daruk roared as soon as he spotted Link, plucking him off the ground and pulling him into a crushing hug. “I knew you could do it. The whole tribe knew—and you!” He dropped Link, who fell with a wheeze on the floor, and scooped up the Princess. “Your Majesty! We saw quite the light show up on the mountain! I take it that was your fancy footwork?”

Zelda blushed. “Yes. It’s good to see you, Daruk.”

Daruk pulled her closer. “I was worried about you, you know. But I never doubted ya, not for a moment.”

Zelda rested her head on his giant shoulder and Paya held up the teapot.

“Tea?”

Daruk scrunched up his face. “Gotta pass.”

So the seven of them sat, passing around cups and biscuits, and Link realized that for the first time in a hundred years he was having a proper meal with friends. Thirty minutes passed, then an hour, and Link pretended he didn’t keep looking at the front doors, just as everyone pretended they didn’t see him do it. Finally, they pushed open.

Link was on his feet in an instant. Revali stood in the doorway, head held high, and Link froze. Suddenly he desperately wished everyone was gone. He didn’t want to share this reunion with anyone. But that wasn’t fair—Zelda and his friends deserved the chance to see Revali, not just him.

“So tell me, how wonderful did it look when Medo ripped into the pig?” Revali said, wings crossed, and Link laughed, the tension gone.

‘Absolutely breathtaking.’

Revali stepped towards Zelda, and she pulled him into a gentle hug.

“Long time no see,” she whispered, and Revali chuckled. “Did you miss me?”

“Not at all,” he said, and Zelda swatted him on the arm.

“What a horrible man you are.”

Revali stepped back, and suddenly he and Link were step to step, and Link found his hands tight and nervous.

“Congrats on sealing the darkness,” Revali said with playful sarcasm, and before Link could stop himself he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Revali’s. It felt strange to do it now in front of all these people, but when Revali’s arm found his elbow he knew it was the right decision.

“Come, sit,” Urbosa said. Revali grasped Link’s lightly, and when they sat it was knee to knee.

“So, Link,” Urbosa said. “you know this new world better than all of us. Tell us—what is it like out there in the wild?"