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Chapter Text

The princess’s travelling party set upon Great Zora Bridge two days early for the Champion Festival. Zelda marched at the head in a rigid line, her gaze fixed towards Zora’s Domain, while a few steps behind followed the less assured footsteps of her Sheikah guards, Paya and Cado. Paya, hands clasped behind her lest she absently touch and smudge the red paint she’d applied in anticipation of their arrival, looked about in awe at the cliffs towering over the bridge. Cado, meanwhile, stole anxious glances over the railing to the water thundering far below him, unmoved by the delicate rainbows rendered clear by rolling mist.

Cado touched the railing for reassurance, only to wince as Paya suddenly lurched downwards beside him to better see the smooth surface under their feet. The blue stone pattern inlaid along the bridge looked to her like rivers of water crystallised into place. She reached out to run her fingers along the surface and Cado pointedly coughed. Paya straightened, cheeks turning pink. But Paya could have driven her blade into the bridge for all Zelda noticed, for Zelda’s eyes were now on the great fishtail, a curious structure arched over the domain like an unfolded sapphire fan.

How strange it still looked, Zelda mused. A century on and the scales still pulsed under the sunlight as though a life-force beat within, cold and trapped. It always seemed that just a little more sun would crack the ice-like casing around the fish’s body and the great tail would heave through the air in disbelief. What a glittering sight it would be in those few seconds, she thought, before the fish plunged forward off its foundation and descended upon her with its enormous eyes and gaping mouth to disappear her from the world.

Zelda adjusted her travelling cloak with a self-conscious tug, pushing the morbid thought from her mind, though the appeal remained.

There was a familiarity about it, she realised. The same fantasy must have struck her the first time she came down this bridge, the day she came to the domain with that fateful request.

Zelda shuddered, hands tightening around her cloak as she tore her eyes away from the fish at last. Perhaps today would be the day it freed itself, she thought.

Far ahead in a distant alcove of the domain, a band of Zoras perched self-consciously with their instruments, ready to commence their rehearsal for the upcoming festival. Optimistic - that had been the crucial instruction from Prince Sidon himself. And so began a spritely melody that echoed about the domain. The song carried on the wind to Great Zora Bridge, and Paya gasped with delight. Cado managed a smile. Even Zelda was moved to lift her chin and soften her brow.

Was it not mere weeks ago that she’d been leaning against the railing of the upper level of the domain, half-entranced by music as she looked over the lower plaza, listening with more than her ears it had felt, as though she might absorb that sound, that soothing feeling, and carry it with her once she left?

The Zora band’s music soared and suddenly halted like a bird stunned mid-flight. An embarrassed silence followed.

Zelda jolted back to her senses. Realising how far her mind had drifted, she hastily brought her attention to the shining roofs of new chambers poking up around the domain. Prince Sidon’s letters mentioned something of the sort, she seemed to recall. Something about his plan to make the domain more hospitable to the rest of Hyrule.

Zelda found herself gripping her cloak again, just as the same melody restarted from the alcove. And with it, too quick to resist: catching her breath on the cool rocks down in the pools below the domain, limbs aching from swimming, watching her glide effortlessly closer, gentle melodies above them. So heavenly, it was. So —

‘Beautiful,’ murmured Paya. ‘Everything about this place is beautiful.’

Zelda’s head jerked around in surprise.

Paya’s cheeks reddened at this, and she covered her mouth. ‘I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to disturb you, Princess.’

Zelda blinked. She turned back around, blushing as well, as though Paya had watched her memory along with her. ‘Never mind,’ she said.

The trio drew close to the end of the bridge, where two Zora guards waited to greet them. The music swelled and fell wayward again just as Zelda slowed to a stop. The dissonance flustered the guards, who greeted her first with apologetic smiles. ‘We’re honoured to have you in Zora’s Domain again, Princess Zelda,’ said one. ‘I’ve been instructed to bring you to your guest room. King Dorephan requests your presence in his throne room once you’re ready —’

‘I’m ready now, thank you.’

The guard blinked and then hastily bowed. ‘Excellent, if you’ll follow me, then …’

They departed with the guard, and Zelda felt the eyes of the other guard on her as she passed them into the plaza. But the guard was not the only one watching, for curious faces peered out from the resting pools and gazed down from railings and walkways. The Zora band’s music sprang up with a flourish, trying to build momentum, just as a flurry of whispers rushed about the domain like a hissing wind.

The guard led them towards a set of stairs curving up to the second level of the domain, but Zelda’s eyes fell on another addition to the domain since her absence - a statue of luminous blue placed in loving centre stage of the plaza. Zelda took one look at the trident held in the figure’s arms and stopped dead.

Paya, gazing shyly at the Zoras waving down to them, walked right into Zelda’s frozen back. ‘Oh! I’m so sorry, Princess!’

Zelda stood as though in a bubble, voices coming to her slow and muffled as the music rose like a tidal wave around her. She found herself pulled towards the statue, though her eyes could only seem to take in small details at a time - shining bracelets, a carved elbow, the graceful tilt in the statue’s posture. Zelda’s heart pounded in her chest, but even that seemed to dim as she reached the statue’s plinth. Drawing a shaky breath, Zelda looked up at the statue’s gentle face and found it smiling back at her.

It was the small smile. The one from the day they’d met. Not the beam at the mere mention of Vah Ruta, or the quick grin of spying Sidon chasing after her. Not the radiant smile of her laugh, or the smile Zelda only saw from the corner of her eye, when she’d thought Zelda wasn’t looking.

A sharp chill struck Zelda’s chest. She found herself pressing into the statue’s plinth, the icy stone edge cutting hard against her tunic.

Startled by her lapse in decorum, not to mention her lapse in restraint, Zelda wrenched herself away from the statue. The bubble swept away, letting the clamour of music and voices descend back upon her. Paya and Cado had joined her side now as Zoras started to crowd onto the plaza. Paya looked up at the statue, her mouth open in awe. ‘This must be Princess Mipha, the Zora’s Champion.’

Zelda, still shaken, gave a faint nod and then blinked away from the statue to the sea of excited faces gathering around her.

‘Princess!’

‘It’s so good to see you again.’

‘Do you remember me?’

‘Do you remember me?’

Zelda blinked again, surprised by the warmth in the Zoras’ voices. Then she raised her chin and smiled with the mechanical readiness her old life had long prepared her for. She waved. ‘It’s wonderful to be back,’ she said.

The Zoras broke into appreciative cheers. Zelda followed the Zora guard’s lead in returning to the stairs, glancing almost fearfully to the blue statue as they rose above it, and found another crowd awaited her on the second level. Though the guard attempted to create a path, Zelda stopped to accept the hands greeting her. ‘You probably don’t remember me, Princess,’ said a Zora, ‘but I remember your visits to the domain to see Lady Mipha.’

Zelda’s eyes widened. ‘You do?’

‘Of course! Lots of us do.’

There was a murmur of agreement.

‘You and Lady Mipha used to spend hours walking around the domain together.’

‘Or swimming.’

‘Or working up on Vah Ruta.’

Zelda’s gaze fell. Her mouth couldn’t help but twist, though she knew everyone watched her. ‘Thank you for your kind reception,’ she said. Kinder than I deserve, she added in thought, though it read plainly enough on her face for the Zoras to press closer in sympathy.

‘We’re very happy you’re here, Princess.’

‘No one blames you.’

‘We understand there was nothing you could do.’

‘It’s not how it was with Link, n-not that anyone blames him anymore either!’

Zelda met the speaker’s face with a directness that startled them. ‘Blame?’ she echoed.

The Zoras shared glances. ‘Some of our elders knew Lady Mipha very well,’ said one. ‘With Lady Mipha and Link being so close, I suppose it was expected that he be accountable for what happened to her.’

Zelda’s eyes widened. Her pulse quickened again, and then her gaze dropped in consternation.

Everyone watched her again, waiting. This time the Zora guard saw Zelda’s loss for words and pointedly coughed. ‘Apologies, but Princess Zelda is meeting with the King. We mustn’t delay her.’

Paya and Cado pressed in from behind her, but Zelda felt rooted to the spot. She looked back up at the crowd of Zora. ‘I’m honoured by your forgiveness,’ she said. ‘Mipha was … she was beloved by all of us. I’ll never forget her sacrifice.’ Zelda swallowed. ‘I’m sure I speak for Link as well.’

At this, Zelda let herself be swept away to the foot of another flight of stairs. There she parted ways with Paya and Cado, freeing them to rest while she followed the Zora guard up to the throne room within the giant fish.

Zelda entered the throne room alone, her eyes drifting up towards the cavernous ceiling to meet the dizzying height of King Dorephan’s welcoming smile. As she drew closer to his throne, Zelda felt herself shrink, pacing slower with every step. King Dorephan, watching her approach, perhaps having already watched, too, her arrival on the bridge from the height of where he sat, chuckled impatiently. ‘And so we meet again, Princess Zelda, future Queen of Hyrule.’

Zelda stopped upon the podium before his throne and bowed.

‘I do wish it were under better circumstances,’ King Dorephan continued, ‘but your presence at the Champion Festival greatly honours the Zoras. Please accept my gratitude for taking leave to join us at this time.’

Zelda thought of the invitation tucked in her desk back in her bedroom, soft and crumpled from her deliberations. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ she said.

King Dorephan smiled, and then the smile wavered. ‘I do hope your time here will be restful. I’ve instructed Sidon to set aside his planning and do the same. Let your worries wait until you return to your duties.’

Zelda gave the same wavering smile in return.

‘I know what I ask of you,’ said King Dorephan. ‘But we must try to be joyful in Mipha’s honour.’

Zelda bowed her head. ‘Of course, your Highness.’

King Dorephan raised a giant hand to rub his chin, his expression growing troubled. His voice suddenly lowered. ‘When I received no response from Link to his invitation, I thought that perhaps he would simply be travelling with you, Princess Zelda. But it appears that I was mistaken.’

Zelda stiffened. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t heard from Link in some time.’

King Dorephan’s expression fell further. ‘A shame,’ he rumbled. ‘A great shame indeed.’

Zelda’s mouth became a thin line. If she was forced to think of it, perhaps Link was still in Hateno Village. That was the last she knew at any rate, as he’d advised shortly before his already abrupt departure from the castle, leaving her to stand at the observation tower’s parapet and watch him walk away. She could hardly be expected to keep track of his comings and goings - Link was free to do as he pleased, and she herself had far more pressing matters to attend to.

Zelda became conscious of the sound of rushing water entering the room, filling the absence of her response. She looked up, embarrassed, and found King Dorephan’s gaze unfocussed as well, until his eyes suddenly fell on her again, and his expression softened. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he said quietly. ‘I must say, you remind me of better times.’

Zelda’s mouth fell open.

A kind lie that must be - an offering of consolation, perhaps, for finally returning to the domain. He could not really mean it, not after all that had happened. And yet … that expression was as she remembered it - genuine, though she didn’t deserve it.

Zelda softened as well, and they shared another small, wavering smile. As King Dorephan began to lay out the festival’s proceedings for her, Zelda’s gaze drifted to the empty space beside his throne, and her smile faded.

Zelda pushed the door to her guest room shut and locked it. She slumped against the door and buried her face in her hands. ‘Hold yourself together,’ she hissed. A moment passed, and then hastily raking the hair from her face, Zelda stepped forward to take in the room.

A desk sat by the light of a window, while another window on the far wall held a view of a nearby waterfall. Her luggage, carried by Cado during their journey, had been placed by a surprisingly soft looking bed. All thoughtful additions to a room considering the Zoras’ way of life, she thought. Sidon, it seemed, had been serious about his endeavours towards hospitality. Yet something about the room felt wrong.

Zelda pulled off her travelling cloak. With it went the stern posture that had held her upright throughout the initial trial of arriving for the festival. She stood limp, her luggage waiting to be opened and strewn about the bed, but Zelda couldn’t bring herself to move. She looked around the room again, feeling contained by the shining blue walls in a way both reassuring and not, for though seclusion, rare as it was in her life, was certainly welcome, to be so alone in Zora’s Domain of all places … perhaps that was why the room felt wrong.

Zelda turned and imagined a figure by the far window, urging Zelda to take in the view. Or, turning, at the cupboard instead, eager for Zelda to put away her things so that they could go swimming. Or perhaps they’d be perched on the bed, ready to wait as Zelda rested from the journey, ready to talk about Vah Ruta and the ongoing research until Zelda’s eyes finally fell shut.

With that brief indulgence, all at once the room felt right.

Zelda went to her luggage and began unpacking, but with each step she took the room echoed. Her soft hums of thought as she assigned items to the desk rose and faded self-consciously, amplifying the quietness around them, reminding her that she was very much alone. Zelda heard muffled laughter a room away, and her movements slowed until she found herself standing limp again. She rubbed her face with both hands. ‘I’m not doing this,’ she muttered. ‘This is not supposed to be about me.’

From her bags she retrieved a stack of papers - Purah and Symin’s report on their recent Guardian experiment. Trusting it to be hopelessly dense, as such reports always were, Zelda brought it to the desk and began to seek refuge in Purah’s tiny scrawl. She didn’t get far before reaching a sidenote in the margin, where Purah opined that the test to determine the extent of memory retention in reactivated Guardians would have been greatly benefited alongside a study of Link. At the sight of his name Zelda sniffed and continued reading, but her eyes started to glaze.

What was it the Zora had said? That Link was considered accountable for … what had happened. No, she thought, it hadn’t been Link’s fault. It hadn’t been any of the Champions’ fault. Yet Link was still different, wasn’t he? Not like herself. That was never in question, it seemed.

Zelda turned mechanically to the next page of the report and barely glanced at its words.

Had Mipha and Link really been that close, she pondered. It was true that they had known each other since Link was young, but in all the times of her own visits to the domain, it was not as though Mipha spoke of him any more than to enquire about his welfare, as any friend might. Zelda herself had visited Mipha far more often in the span of time they had to know each other, and if she of all people had found the means to do that, then Link could have too, if he’d wanted.

The page creased in Zelda’s hand. Zelda dropped it onto the desk and sank back in her chair, rubbing at her temple.

Here she’d come, in Mipha’s honour, only to while away her time with a petty gripe.

Zelda took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down.

It was only a few days. And could have been less had she not been so fearful of missing the event entirely. Too worried, she’d been, about the potential obstacles of getting there, when of course the bigger challenge was always what would happen when the journey was successfully over. Still, a few days more could be bearable, she reminded herself. She could keep to her room and busy herself with the correspondence she’d brought along. She’d read Purah’s report back to front to back again. She would manage.

Buried under her travelling cloak and blanket against the cold, Zelda twisted and murmured in her sleep, inadvertently resetting her subconscious as it rolled and washed images through her dreams like waves on sand.

She entered her bedroom. There was a letter from Mipha she needed to find, only it sat as one of many envelopes piled on her desk. She grabbed the closest one. “From Sidon”, it read. Zelda tossed it and picked up the next. “From Sidon”. Zelda groaned. She seized a fistful of letters and went through them. “Sidon”. “Sidon”. “Sidon”. “Sidon”. “Sidon”.

Zelda rolled over.

She sat in her old tower study, poring over her research notes. There was a knock on the door and her father entered. ‘We’ve uncovered another Divine Beast,’ he said. Zelda gasped, but her father shook his head. 'We’re going to let Link pilot it.’

Zelda frowned into her pillow.

Smoke. Red lights. Screams. ‘Help us!’

Zelda whimpered. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, and then the darkness of the room sent her back.

She stood on Great Zora Bridge, alone. The stone around the giant fish of Zora’s Domain had cracked like glass, revealing crimson scales underneath. Zora’s Domain seemed emptied, but a deep, plaintive whine echoed in that empty space. The tail twitched. Zelda held her breath. With a great crash, the stone split and shattered, the sweep of the fish’s tail sending shining stone fragments through the air like drops of water. The body heaved from its cracked shell and launched ungainly through the air, its wide mouth gaped in surprise, while huge eyes looked about, frenzied, and then found her.

Dread suddenly struck Zelda. She stepped back, but running did not seem to be an option, so vast was the fish’s shadow as it fell towards her. The fish’s mouth opened in anticipation. Zelda threw up her arms.

When she lowered them, Zelda found herself seated in King Dorephan’s throne room within the fish. Beside her was an adjoining throne. Mipha sat there smiling at Zelda, relieved, like a child who’d been hiding in jest much longer than they’d anticipated, glad to be found at last.

Zelda slowly reached across and touched Mipha’s arm. Her fingers met solid warmth, and so she all but dived for Mipha’s hand with a gasp, clutching the hand close to her chest for a moment, and then pressing it to her lips.

Mipha was limp, her expression never shifting as Zelda lowered her hand. A small part of Zelda sensed this betrayal of her subconscious mind and squirmed against it. She wanted to crawl into Mipha’s lap and hold her so that she might keep her there, or at least that she might fade away with her rather than wake. She tried, but her limbs felt weighed with iron. The more she fought, the more she sensed the walls of the dream around her begin to fade.

Zelda quickly fell back and accepted the unwavering smile being offered to her with a beseeching gaze in return. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said.

‘I know,’ said Mipha.

Zelda’s eyes grew wide. ‘You do? Do you … do you hear me when I talk to you?’

Mipha tilted her head. ‘Sometimes.’

Zelda gripped her hand again. ‘Can you answer?’

Mipha merely smiled.

Zelda fought to lean closer, pushing with all her might.

She woke with a small cry, lost in the dark, unfamiliar guest room, and found herself shaking. Zelda sat up. Not since before the Calamity had she dreamed of anything remotely like this. Nothing she remembered, at least. Now she felt pierced clean through. She grasped her pillow and hugged it to her chest.

Fragments of the dream returned to her, painful but precious, like sharpened jewels clutched in her hands: Mipha waiting for her, Mipha’s smile of relief, holding her hand once more, kissing it. “Sometimes”, Mipha had said.

Zelda wet her lips. ‘Mipha … if you really can hear me …’

Zelda paused, grimacing against the desperation in her voice. She went to speak again and then exhaled, her voice dying in her throat. She could only stare into the dark.

Chapter Text

The travelling party had reached as far as they could on horseback. Zelda, pulse racing, planted her feet firmly on the ground and took in a long breath of cool mountain air.

It was just as well Impa had gone ahead to Zora’s Domain without her. Without the subsequent treatise masquerading as a letter she’d sent to Zelda, Zelda’s father could have condemned the idea of Zelda’s visit as a fanciful distraction. This time Zelda could cling to the fact that not only did the domain hold promise of another Divine Beast, by Impa’s word there was already a potential pilot as well. The sooner the candidate had royal approval, the sooner they could undergo the official trial, and the sooner her father would have one less thing to worry about; an opportunity too good for him to refuse.

Zelda took another deep breath and calmed a little.

She only had to get through one meeting. It would be brief, too, in the long scheme of things. As soon as she saw that Divine Beast in person, all memory of inevitably embarrassing herself would vanish. Then again, perhaps the meeting wouldn’t be as bad as she feared. Meeting another princess for the first time could be exciting. A princess renowned for her dedication, her mystical power, and her skill on the battlefield … nothing to be intimidated by at all.

Zelda took another deep breath.

Trekking the last stretch of trail brought the party at last to Great Zora Bridge. Zelda’s mouth fell open at the shining cliffs surrounding them. Waterfalls thundered behind sheets of mist, and as the mist grew thin, the glimmering sight of Zora’s Domain made itself visible. More blues and greens than Zelda even had names for glinted back at her as she trailed behind her guards in wonder.

Luminous stone, according to Impa’s letter, and how did such a mineral shimmer so strangely, she’d pondered. Zelda slipped her hand out to graze a column as she passed. Close as her fingers seemed to dip in that strange moon-water, they only met hard rock. Zelda’s eyes glittered. Perhaps this was the new subject destined to preoccupy her, once their lives no longer depended on the fine minutia of the ancient Sheikah tech.

Zelda’s gaze began to rove everywhere. What a location to base one’s research, she mused. Everywhere she looked something shimmered or shone. A gentle song echoed around them, source mysterious, inviting them to breathe easy with the cool, clean air. Impa’s letter had mentioned that too - not only was the domain remarkable for its intricate masonry, its acoustic architecture too was an amazing feat in its own right.

Below them, Zoras swam in the pools under the domain. Zelda was not one for swimming, but she could walk endlessly, she decided, enthralled by a mere cornice, an arch - or that fish looking down at them from high in the domain, enormous and mesmerising and terrifying all at once. It looked half alive, as though standing before it too long might entice it to lunge forth and snap her up. Preferable, perhaps, to the task ahead.

The Sheikah guards pressed close to her. Zoras were approaching to bring them into the domain, and they were tall - much taller than she’d expected. Zelda thought of the painting hanging in the royal library - the recreation of a prosperous meeting between Zoras and Hylians long past, the two race’s partnership formed evermore. As a child those painted fins and tails were enchanting. To see the Zoras now, so tall and graceful, it was like a legend come to life. Strange that only now did Zelda find herself coming to them - that such allies weren’t called upon until this peak of desperation. Perhaps furthering that alliance would be another task on her list, once all of this was over.

Zelda and her guards were escorted to the throne room. They entered, and Zelda’s eyes pulled upwards, higher, higher towards the ceiling. Her breath left her at the sight of the great King Dorephan. It would take a very large painting to capture him. There wouldn’t even be enough room in the library to house it.

King Dorephan greeted Zelda and her guards warmly, and loudly. Zelda’s voice felt like a whisper in response to him, though she smiled convincingly enough. King Dorephan gestured his giant hand downward. ‘My daughter, Princess Mipha. She has been assisting your researchers.’

Startled, Zelda looked down to find a diminutive, crimson-scaled Zora by the throne, previously unnoticed. The Zora smiled politely as Zelda glanced aside to look for the renowned warrior. But there was no one else in the room the King could possibly be referring to. This had to be her.

Zelda fell to a hasty bow. ‘Princess Mipha. It’s an honour to meet you. Impa has already spoken very highly of you.’ She straightened in time to catch the dip of Mipha’s bow in return. Shorter than me, Zelda mused.

‘It’s an honour to meet you as well, Princess Zelda. If there’s anything I can do to assist you during your visit, please let me know.’

Zelda nodded at this, her eyes lingering on the silver and blue glinting from Mipha’s neck and along her finned head. The library’s painting had certainly never depicted the Zora like this.

In the ensuing lapse into silence and polite smiles, Mipha twisted slightly towards her father in what appeared to Zelda like a tiny, silent plea for intervention, as though she’d exhausted the only planned lines she had. To Zelda’s surprise, she felt her own reservations melt a little in turn. She stepped closer. ‘If it’s not too much trouble, Princess Mipha, perhaps you could accompany me to the Divine Beast?’

Mipha agreed, and to Zelda’s great surprise, she didn’t even need her father’s approval.

The two of them set off towards what Mipha called East Reservoir Lake, crossing onto another bridge, and leaving the soft music of the domain to fade behind them as the lively buzz of the mountains took hold.

With Zelda and Mipha’s introductions complete, the heavy burden of conversation now fell upon them as they walked. Rather than speak however, their questions came silently with furtive, appraising glances. Then their eyes accidentally met. Mipha looked away, her cheeks turning pink.

‘What lovely weather to be in the mountains this morning,’ Zelda ventured. ‘I was a little worried by those dark clouds on the horizon.’

Mipha was quiet for a moment. ‘Are Hylians not fond of rain?’

Zelda blinked. ‘Well … not really.’

She glanced at Mipha again, but Mipha’s gaze was fixed ahead this time. Zelda began to examine that serious profile instead, a strange intrigue holding her eye. Then there was puffing behind them, and she turned to see a tiny, red Zora on their trail. Mipha stopped with a soft laugh. ‘My brother,’ she said, and cupped her hand to her mouth. ‘Sidon! You know you’re to stay away from the reservoir. I’ll be back soon.’

Sidon halted but didn’t turn away. Mipha smiled and gave a pointed wave. ‘He thinks another Hylian will be joining us,’ she said. ‘A friend of mine. Link is his name, a knight - I believe you and Impa both know him. Sidon is fond of him.’

Her cheeks grew pink again as she said this. Zelda almost sighed. ‘Yes. I know him.’

She strode onwards towards the reservoir. Mipha quickened to match her pace. ‘If I may ask,’ she said, ‘is he well?’

‘He is.’

Mipha, her cheeks still pink, glanced at Zelda in hope that she might elaborate, but Zelda said nothing more. A silence grew between them as they walked, and Zelda chewed her lip in regret. ‘My apologies - that was needlessly curt,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid I’ve spent quite a bit of time in Link’s company lately, and to have grown a second shadow such as it were … well, let us say it’s been an adjustment.’

Mipha’s cheeks grew even pinker at this. Zelda glanced over her shoulder to where Sidon’s stubborn figure still stood. Zelda almost smiled. ‘Perhaps if I’d had a sibling of my own, I’d have been better prepared.’

Mipha’s eyes widened with understanding. ‘Ah,’ she said, almost relieved, it seemed. ‘But … you mean to say that you don’t enjoy Link’s company?’ Her voice was incredulous now.

Zelda flushed, regretting her hasty babble to fill the awkward silence. She looked helplessly up to the sky. Yes, was the answer. So much the answer that she couldn’t help but make it plain even to a near stranger. But she did not want Mipha to think her childish. ‘I think what I mean is that I’d rather carry out my field studies alone. But Link’s going to be travelling with me a great deal very soon.’ She held back another sigh. ‘I’m sure we’ll become … friends.’

Mipha was quiet at this, her fingers knotting together as they walked.

Eager as Zelda was to put the subject of Link behind them, she did not trust herself to speak further. She braved a glance to consider Mipha’s profile again instead - after all, she told herself, it was a mission equally about a pilot as it was about the Divine Beast - and tried to look past the sweet features and shy demeanour to find what Impa had seen.

Perhaps there was something different about Mipha, Zelda decided. Certainly something intriguing, an undeniable allure. Yes - Mipha was going to be the Zora’s Champion, she felt strangely certain. She would still have to ask, as a formality, at least. And Mipha would have to accept, and undergo a dangerous trial just to prove herself. Zelda’s heart hurt a little at the thought of it. But there was no other way, only the path that the ancients had laid out for them.

She stole another glance at Mipha, finding herself far more drawn to that lowered gaze than any glimpse of an iron will. There was familiarity there, and the possibility that perhaps Mipha would be a kindred spirit, someone who wouldn’t cast a mountain-like shadow over her during the missions ahead.

Mipha took a quick breath as though steeling herself. ‘If I may say so, Princess Zelda, perhaps you might give Link a chance. I’ve never known a better-natured person than him. I’m certain you won’t regret it.’

She blushed so fiercely as she spoke that Zelda looked away, the sting of regret returning. What an impression she’d managed to make in such a short space of time. ‘Perhaps I’ll learn to see him through your eyes,’ Zelda offered, but this only made Mipha blush harder.

The cliff-like wall of the reservoir now bore upon them, against which stood a very long and high set of stairs. Zelda’s stomach lurched at the sight of it, but Mipha began up the steps at once, giving Zelda a quick, encouraging nod as she did so. Zelda watched her for a moment, drawn once more by that small kindness. Perhaps all was not lost, she decided. After all, there was no reason Link had to be their only common ground. ‘It must have been quite a shock when the Divine Beast was uncovered,’ she ventured again, having to match Mipha’s pace this time.

‘Oh yes, very much so.’

‘The excavation team drew up pictures for me - such a strange looking creature they are.’

Mipha smiled fondly. ‘I find them quite charming.’

Zelda found herself smiling as well. ‘I hope to see them through your eyes as well, then.’

They glanced at each other, and Zelda was pleased to see Mipha’s smile widen. A strange flutter of excitement filled her chest, like she’d won a lovely prize.

Perhaps, if all went well, she could persuade her father to let her visit the domain again.

Zelda emerged breathlessly from the long set of stairs and staggered out onto the edge of East Reservoir Lake. The walkway was cleared now of the research team’s equipment, leaving nothing but the sight of Mipha’s small frame crouched at the end of the pier, looking down into the water. Zelda paused, struck by the image.

It had been a little while since the last visit. There’d been much to do. There still was. But her father knew the importance of ensuring that the Divine Beasts could be effectively piloted. That it meant she would see Mipha once more, well, that was simply a very pleasant necessity.

Mipha suddenly rose, and Zelda hastened to neaten herself. She saw Mipha wave and waved back, butterflies already tickling in her stomach. Mipha struggled to meet Zelda’s eye as Zelda approached. ‘Forgive me for not meeting with you as you arrived,’ she said. ‘I wanted to make sure Vah Ruta and I were ready.’

Zelda, unsurprised, smiled what she hoped was a consoling smile.

Piloting the Divine Beasts was a task no one could truly guide the Champions through. And with such pressure on their shoulders to succeed, it was not an enviable position, Zelda mused. Someone was always going to learn the slowest - she herself would no doubt have been in Mipha’s place had their roles been swapped. And that was an oddly comforting thought, though she’d never dare admit it.

Zelda joined Mipha at the edge of the pier and looked out over the unpromisingly clear lake, Vah Ruta nowhere to be seen. ‘How are you coming along with the training?’

Mipha considered this for a moment. ‘Perhaps I should show you.’

Zelda nodded, though a little unsure.

Mipha closed her eyes. Zelda looked from her to the lake, thinking already of what words of comfort she might say. Then the water’s still surface began to stir. Great bubbles flurried up from deep below, the water before the pier becoming a frothing field of white. Mipha quickly gestured for Zelda to step back. Zelda hurried to do so, just as Vah Ruta’s head erupted from the lake.

Blue nodes twinkled behind showers of water as Vah Ruta emerged. A great eye stared outwards at Zelda, cascades of water continuing to pour forth as Vah Ruta rose above the pier. Zelda threw up her arms to shield herself and caught glimpses of Vah Ruta’s trunk as it rose into the air. Vah Ruta’s enormous body rose one last stretch and then sank a little, settling, somehow, with their gargantuan weight, to float in the lake’s water. The sinking sent a wave crashing into Mipha and Zelda, and Zelda staggered from the force. She gritted her teeth as the icy sting of water seeped in through her dripping clothes. Mipha beamed from Vah Ruta back to Zelda. ‘Aren’t they adorable?’ she said.

Zelda stared up into the eye of the mountainous machine. She furrowed her brow. ‘You can call to them …’

‘Oh, yes,’ Mipha said simply. ‘Would you like to see more?’

Zelda looked sharply to her. ‘“More”? Just how far have you progressed?’

Vah Ruta let out a deep, trumpet-like bellow. The vibration of it travelled along the pier and up through Zelda’s wobbling knees to reverberate in her chest. Vah Ruta’s trunk lowered to the edge of the pier, a sloping path now formed to an entrance waiting within Vah Ruta’s head. Mipha stepped onto the trunk and held her hand out to Zelda with a smile.

Zelda’s butterflies returned despite herself. Casting her indignation aside, she took Mipha’s hand and followed.

Inside, the sound of churning water echoed throughout the dim passageway. Zelda stayed close to Mipha amidst the gloom, eyes on the orange glints of light caught on Mipha’s silver headdress.

The churn of water grew loud as Mipha and Zelda emerged from the passageway onto a sunlit platform. Steam rose from the gears of Vah Ruta’s inner mechanisms working below. To see them turn so tirelessly, it was difficult to imagine Vah Ruta underground, utterly still, for such a terribly long time.

The platform tremored under Zelda’s feet. Zelda looked around, finally upwards through the open ceiling to see the sky shifting as Vah Ruta moved through the water. Zelda laughed with disbelief. She looked to Mipha, whose eyes were closed again. ‘What a remarkable bond you two already have,’ she said. Her gaze remained on Mipha a little wistfully. ‘You almost seem like friends.’

Mipha opened her eyes and looked past Zelda, looking, perhaps, to acknowledge Vah Ruta’s presence in a way Zelda couldn’t. ‘… I think Vah Ruta was lonely,’ said Mipha. ‘That pilot before me - you and I regret their absence for all the knowledge lost, but … I often wonder if Vah Ruta misses them.’

Zelda’s brow lifted. ‘You think they’re capable of such feeling?’

Mipha sank to a crouch at the edge of the platform and silently considered this. Again, Zelda felt the slight absence. Did she hear Vah Ruta’s thoughts like her own, Zelda wondered. Did their loneliness ache in Mipha, too? Her hand itched to note down these thoughts, but Mipha suddenly rose. ‘There’s already far more to our bond than I’d imagined,’ Mipha ventured. ‘And still I sense there’s much I don’t know.’

Zelda’s hand itched again. ‘I know I’ve already tasked you with writing me reports about this very thing, but … what is it like - this connection - working together - how you’ve bonded —?’ She laughed. ‘Forgive me, I just … I want to know everything!’

Mipha giggled at this, suddenly very much present and herself. She patted Zelda’s shoulder. ‘Oh - I’m afraid you’ve unleashed something terrible this day,’ she said. ‘Once I start talking about Vah Ruta, it’s very difficult to stop.’

Zelda tore her gaze from Mipha’s hand lingering on her shoulder to grin back at her. ‘I accept - no, welcome - all responsibility for my perilous action.’

Mipha laughed again. Zelda couldn’t help but laugh with her, thankful to have inspired such a lovely sight, even as Mipha removed her hand to touch her chin in thought.

‘I don’t think I can put it all into words yet,’ said Mipha. ‘The connection I’m building with Vah Ruta - it’s unlike any normal bond I’ve known. When we’re separated, our thoughts are distinct, but when we connect, it’s like our thoughts are merging. We know what the other wants and its already our want.’

Zelda’s eyes widened. ‘Incredible,’ she breathed.

‘You would think a creature of this size might have the stubbornness to match, or that its thoughts would feel overpowering …’

Zelda nodded quickly.

‘But that isn’t the case at all. It was a strange process of course, getting used to being with them. But once we were acquainted with each other, I realised Vah Ruta is actually quite gentle. Shy, even.’ Mipha laughed, more self-conscious this time. ‘Perhaps that’s why we get on so well.’

Envy suddenly prickled Zelda’s chest, and she faintly echoed Mipha’s laugh. ‘Wonderful,’ she said. ‘Truly. You should be proud.’

Mipha was already turning away. ‘There’s still more to show you,’ she said.

Zelda froze. ‘More?’

Mipha moved past Zelda towards the far side of the platform, leaving Zelda rooted to the floor. Mipha stopped at the mouth of a waterfall at the platform’s edge and beckoned for Zelda to follow. Zelda made no attempt to move, simply watching with growing dread as Mipha lifted her arms and sprang from the platform without another thought.

Zelda took a deep breath, and then another, and then finally came to peer over the platform’s edge. The waterfall at her feet fell like a thin ribbon to a pool far below, where the next level of Vah Ruta could be accessed. There was no ladder down, only a one-way drop, and the walls of Vah Ruta’s torso were too smooth to even consider scaling. It would have to be throwing herself in surrender to the open air, and the sharp smack of impact - of plunging deep into the dark water, air short in her lungs, and floundering until Mipha dragged her up to safety.

The red of Mipha’s head burst up through the surface of the pool. Pulse quickening, Zelda backed away from the platform’s edge.

‘Zelda?’

Zelda’s face grew hot. She stepped back again, her arms crossing to shield her stomach.

‘Zelda, are you coming?’

Was she? By all practicality, she should. But she couldn’t bring herself to answer, let alone move closer back to the waterfall.

There was a crash of water below, and Mipha arced up over the waterfall to land back onto the platform in a graceful crouch. Zelda backed away even further as Mipha rose, and Mipha looked to her with polite puzzlement. She flicked the water from her arms with a nervous wave, waiting for Zelda to speak. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Zelda, not knowing what else to say.

Mipha regarded her for a moment in growing confusion, and then her face cleared. ‘Oh - no, I’m the one who should be sorry,’ she said. ‘You must be quite cold in your wet clothes - I understand if you’d rather not drench yourself all over again.’

Zelda quickly nodded, accepting this proposed excuse. Mipha smiled.

It was a kind smile, thought Zelda, but also consoling, the way Mipha smiled when speaking with one of the numerous awestruck Zora children that followed her around the domain. The way Zelda had smiled at her on the pier.

‘I can carry you, if you’d like,’ said Mipha. ‘It would be no trouble at all. We’ll land on the ground, that way —’

‘No,’ said Zelda. ‘Thank you, but …’

Mipha’s quiet confusion returned and Zelda’s face grew hot again. She turned away, desperate to escape Mipha’s gaze, but there was nowhere to go but the low wall guarding an open drop down Vah Ruta’s side. Zelda met the wall regardless. No courage swelled in her to turn and face Mipha’s concern, and so she found herself pressing her hand to the smooth, other-worldly surface of the wall. She sighed. ‘I really am sorry.’

‘But what’s the matter?’ said Mipha.

‘Nothing, just that …’

What, she wondered. That deep down, the thought of plunging from such heights made her, one of Hyrule’s supposed saviours, turn into Chuchu jelly? That the idea of Mipha having to carry her, to accommodate her failing, made her want to vanish on the spot? Or was it that seeing Mipha’s progress, seeing how wrong she’d been about her, only made her feel like even more of a failure?

Mipha appeared beside Zelda and hoisted herself up to sit atop the low wall. She looked out over the edge. ‘The view is pretty from here.’

Zelda bit her lip, but recognising the offering for what it was, she hoisted herself up to sit beside Mipha.

Below, the afternoon sun was beginning to shine gold along the water. But the pier stood very far away, too far for Zelda to swim should she fall and suddenly find herself adrift and alone. She gripped the edge of the wall for reassurance and found Mipha smiling at that same water. The warmth of the smile started to quell Zelda’s hesitations. Mipha turned that smile onto Zelda and Zelda returned it shyly.

‘How have you been since I last saw you?’ said Mipha.

‘Quite well,’ Zelda said quickly. ‘And you?’

‘I’m well. You returned recently from a pilgrimage, did you not?’

Zelda nearly dropped her gaze. ‘Yes.’

‘I imagine such a journey must be tiring.’

Zelda was quiet. ‘… Yes.’

Mipha was quiet as well, letting the pointedness of her questions hang in the air.

Zelda went to speak again and then stopped herself, instead giving a short, hollow laugh. ‘I’m afraid things aren’t progressing for me as quickly as they are for you,’ she said. ‘It’s funny, really. Here you are adapting so quickly to a task I’ve thrust upon you, yet I can’t even make headway with something that’s supposed to be innate to me.’

‘I don’t think that’s funny,’ said Mipha. ‘I think you’re being too hard on yourself.’

Zelda’s mouth twisted. She didn’t answer. Mipha gestured over the lake to the distant pier and pointed. ‘Do you see that room by the reservoir? My father had that built for me. That’s how much time I was spending up here - trying to talk with Vah Ruta, learning. If you’d seen me in the beginning, I think you’d be surprised Vah Ruta and I ever managed to be where we are now.’

Zelda shook her head with a rueful smile. ‘I can’t imagine you doing poorly at anything.’

Mipha laughed softly in disbelief. ‘Well - well then it is a great shame you were not there to see me fumble my spear training yesterday,’ she said. ‘My throw was so poor it nearly beheaded a tree.’

Zelda smiled knowingly. ‘Ah, weapons training. My father started me on fencing many years ago, until it became apparent I was more a danger to myself than I’d ever be to my opponent.’

‘The opposite could be said of my old singing lessons,’ said Mipha. ‘There were no opponents, of course, but certainly victims.’

Zelda held back a laugh. ‘I’m still not sure I believe you,’ she said. ‘Unless you’d be willing to demonstrate?’

‘I dare not,’ said Mipha. ‘To do so would violate my oath to protect all of Hyrule and its inhabitants.’

Zelda giggled. Mipha smiled. ‘And you should know that in every speech I give to my people, I stutter,’ she said.

‘Oh?’ Zelda chuckled. ‘My father doesn’t even trust me with speeches. Not after the time I was so nervous I fainted.’

Mipha winced in sympathy. ‘You’ve beat me there - I’ve never fainted. Though I must admit, just recently now I made myself sick from nerves the night before Link’s Champion ceremony.’

Zelda straightened. ‘Really? You hid it well on the day.’

‘I suppose I’ve had practice,’ said Mipha.

Zelda looked down at this. That Mipha could be so insecure seemed incredible, but not, as she knew, impossible. After all, it had been the awkward twist during their very first meeting that had warmed her to Mipha in the first place.

They lapsed into silence for a while, watching instead the water churning white against Vah Ruta’s side. Zelda eventually cast a side-look back to Mipha. ‘How do you manage it?’ she said. ‘The nerves. I can never seem to best them. Right now … right now they’re worse than ever.’

Mipha’s eyes widened at this.

‘That surprises you?’ said Zelda.

Mipha’s cheeks turned pink. She dropped her gaze. ‘But … you carry the power of the Goddess,’ she said.

Zelda’s heart sank. ‘Yes, so they say. And look how far that’s gotten me.’

Her heart sank further with regret as the words left her, but there was no undoing it now. Mipha looked back up at Zelda, concern on her face. Zelda blushed. ‘Forgive me. I let my frustration get the best of me.’

Mipha gave a slow nod. Her appraising stare remained fixed however, as though she were looking at Zelda for the first time.

Don’t look, Zelda wanted to plead. She dropped back down onto the platform, but Mipha didn’t follow this time, and Zelda drifted away, relieved yet wretched. There was no salvaging such conduct as this - Mipha now knew her for the coward she was - how close incompetence brimmed beneath the sheen of the Goddess’s legacy. Perhaps if she were to say nothing more, she could at least prevent herself from making matters even worse.

‘I’m afraid I never managed to best my nerves,’ said Mipha behind her, cutting through Zelda’s thoughts. ‘I simply hoped that no one would notice.’

Zelda stopped.

‘But I’m glad I told you,’ said Mipha. ‘It’s nice to know someone else feels the same. It’s … nice not to feel alone.’

Zelda looked back at Mipha in disbelief, unable to resist a hesitant smile forming on her lips. Mipha returned it, briefly, and then grew serious once more. ‘Don’t think you have to keep hiding this,’ she continued. ‘I know how painful that is, and, well … it doesn’t have to be that way. We’ll get through this together.’

She slid down to the floor and walked towards Zelda. ‘How does that sound to you?’

Zelda stared at her, wordless in her astonishment, and then all remaining traces of her smile faded. She turned away from Mipha, head swimming with thoughts as her hands clasped anxiously together. Her eyes roved around Vah Ruta as she tried to search for words. Then her gaze finally settled back on Mipha, her heart pounding. ‘Could I write to you? While I’m away, I mean. I’m going to be doing an awful lot of travelling soon, and —’

‘Yes!’ said Mipha. Her hands clasped together in excitement. ‘If - if you’ll permit me to send you endless pages about Vah Ruta, of course.’

Zelda’s smile returned. She gave a faint laugh of relief. ‘I’m counting on it.’

Chapter Text

Zelda lurched out of the guest room the next morning to find Paya and Cado standing guard outside in the corridor. Paya’s smile of greeting to Zelda froze at the sight of her. ‘Is everything alright, Princess Zelda?’

Zelda gave her tunic a self-conscious tug. ‘Of course.’ She looked past Paya and Cado to the mountains. ‘Today I’ll be spending some time outside of the domain. I’m … going to visit a waterfall.’ She didn’t wait for them to absorb this, instead beginning a brisk walk that led through the melody-filled domain and out across the westward bridge.

Up from a hill, Zelda rejoiced as the ever-present thrum of rushing water about the domain grew even louder outside of it. Mist billowed about her feet in the shadows of the cliffs, filling the air with the taste of rain as she climbed, until Veiled Falls twinkled at her through the trees. She moved faster up the slopes, clambering at last onto a ledge cupping the pool of a waterfall.

The waterfall bore down upon Zelda as she knelt on one of the rocks verging over the pool. She gazed up along the water thundering down, and as hoped, the sheer imminence of the waterfall’s presence forced all restless thoughts of the previous day from her mind, filling her head with a singular, constant roar. Zelda closed her eyes, breathing easy at last.

In place of thoughts, a pool filled her mind, its surface rough with noise. The pool grew still. Zelda sat with the weight of it, slowly losing sense of time and sensation around her, until the world drifted very far away. It was the kind of state not unlike the times she stood in the Goddess springs, when her prayers had reached their hundredth repetition and her despair fell way to something much more forgivingly numb; not unlike, too, the stillness of waiting in the space beyond time as Link recovered in the Shrine of Resurrection. All refuges, in a sense.

Clouds shifted above her, and a shaft of light struck Zelda’s back like a warm hand pulling her back.

Zelda opened her eyes. Sun had fallen on the waterfall, alighting the pool below to reveal its sweeping green bed of waterweeds. Zelda’s breath came to her slow and steady. She must have been still for quite some time, for a pair of Bright-Chested Ducks swam nearby, unwary of her presence. Behind her, Paya and Cado stood guard a little way off in the shadows, marvelling at the sight of Shatterback Point. Sensing something had changed, Paya looked back at Zelda, and Zelda beckoned to her.

‘Look,’ Zelda whispered as Paya dutifully knelt beside her. She and Paya watched as the ducks dived their beaks into the water. ‘There was a time one used to see them all along Hylia River,’ said Zelda.

Paya caught Zelda’s wistful expression and tried to sound cheerful. ‘I’m sure they’ll return, Princess. One day.’

Clouds rolled over the sun, casting a shadow back over the waterfall. Zelda and Paya both shivered. Zelda rose and looked to Zora’s Domain a moment, and then turned to Paya. ‘Would you like to take a walk with me?’

She led an eager Paya west of Veiled Falls, past a Sheikah shrine and up along a sloping path that hugged the cliffside. Someone seemed to walk ahead of her, treading softly through the grass, their words faint as they described the sights ahead. Zelda shook herself, and she and Paya emerged onto the green flat of Ralis Pond, just as idyllic as Zelda remembered with its rings of wildflowers and clear water dotted with lilies. She jogged forward, almost falling into a skip to join Paya as she made a beeline towards a coral-like shrub.

‘These were all along the road to the domain,’ said Paya. ‘I’ve never seen anything like them.’

‘No, you won’t find them anywhere else in Hyrule,’ said Zelda. ‘At least, not for all I’ve seen. Just like that heron.’

Paya followed her gaze to the pond, where a blue-feathered heron had waded into the depths. ‘How interesting!’ she answered. A part of her felt certain she’d seen such coloured birds elsewhere, but she didn’t dare contradict Zelda: this was already the most Zelda had spoken to her in some time, and besides that, for all she knew such a thing had been true the last time Zelda visited Zora’s Domain.

A particularly large bunch of Fleet-Lotuses caught Zelda’s eye, then it was blue sparrows, then a Hot-Footed Frog, pulling her and Paya in a circle around the pond as Paya nodded with growing marvel at each of Zelda’s increasingly animated facts and observations. They drew close to a boulder overhanging the pond, and Paya placed her hand against a patch of shining blue amongst the grey stone. ‘What about this?’ she said.

Zelda recalled her own hand once so eager to touch that strange surface, and she almost smiled. ‘Luminous stone. It’s not unique to the Lanayru region, but it’s certainly strangely abundant.’

Paya peered closer at the stone and sighed. ‘It’s marvellous.’

‘Your grandmother thought so, too,’ said Zelda. She frowned to herself. ‘I … think I even thought of studying it, once.’

‘Well, there’s still time, Princess.’

Zelda almost smiled again, humourlessly this time. ‘Perhaps when the ducks return.’

She continued walking, and they made another lap of the pond, but the excitement of the familiar specimens no longer held Zelda in thrall, nor did the pleasure from speaking of them to a willing ear. Paya glanced to Zelda a few times, regretful of this quietness, and gathered her courage. ‘It must be a little strange to be back,’ she said, ‘since you know the domain so well, Princess Zelda.’

Zelda pursed her lips. She considered letting the comment drift past, and then let out a low breath of defeat. ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

‘Is it … how you remember?’

Zelda glanced to Paya, surprised by, what was to Paya’s standards, a positively forthright question. Paya’s face held such earnest concern that Zelda felt a twinge of both affection and impatience. She tried to let the impatience pass.

‘I admit, I did worry that it would not be,’ she said. ‘Yet despite all that’s changed, it still feels very much the same.’

‘Is that better?’

‘… I’m not sure.’

Paya tried to sound cheerful again. ‘I suppose remembering it well is better than not remembering it at all, right, Princess?’

Zelda’s brow furrowed. She couldn’t say with honesty that what she remembered was true at all. Her time away from Hyrule was not like it was for Link. She’d returned with no obvious amnesia, only the sense that it was the rest of the world that had started to forget, not her. Few could tell her if she was right or wrong. Perhaps that was why the Zoras’ words about old times prickled so persistently, thought Zelda.

Paya lowered her voice. ‘Princess, if there’s anything I can do to make your stay easier, you need only say it.’

Zelda, suddenly feeling all her 118 years of age, almost laughed. ‘Thank you, Paya … that is very sweet.’

Paya, sensing the amusement, blushed and looked away.

‘Come,’ said Zelda. ‘There’s something else I want to show you.’

As anticipated, her words rose Paya’s spirits in an instant. She led Paya up onto the boulder overhanging the pond and they climbed its slope. At the boulder’s peak, the two of them could see past the edge of the cliffs all the way to the Gerudo Highlands and across the Tabantha Frontier.

Paya looked to Zelda with a wordless smile. They stood quietly a long while, letting their gaze drift from sight to sight across Hyrule. To Zelda’s eyes, such a distant view of Hyrule made it look as it once did, as though it were untouched during the century save for the towers protruding from the earth. If Paya were to turn to her then and ask for her Sheikah Slate, mutter a few words about Purah or Robbie, perhaps, she could believe in that moment that Hyrule really was still the home she once knew.

“You can even see Hyrule Castle from up here …” echoed a voice in her head, and without thinking, Zelda turned her gaze to Central Hyrule and its ungainly remains. The wall around Hyrule Castle Town was whole again, the ruins cleared, but still there was an air of a graveyard about it, the castle its sombre temple. Though, it had looked sombre the last time she saw it from this view, too. So much that it’d been hard to accept Mipha’s comment when she’d said that she found the sight pleasant. Or perhaps that had just been her own wishful thinking, hoping that perhaps Mipha had another reason to look towards the castle.

Zelda froze upon this thought, surprised at herself.

Mipha had even said that she liked to spend time here, she recalled. Oh how the image of Mipha stealing herself away to find that view kept her company long after that day.

Zelda clutched her head. Stop it, she thought. She turned away from the sight of Hyrule Castle and looked down at the pond, letting the lotuses swaying in the breeze try to distract her. A brown shape bobbed between the lotuses, half-submerged by the water. Zelda saw the kick of the shape’s thin legs, and her mouth fell open. She sank to her knees. ‘Paya!’

Paya’s hand flew to the hilt of her sword. Zelda pointed down into the pond. ‘Look here - a Tireless Frog!’

Paya sighed heavily in relief. Zelda glanced up at her, eyes widening. ‘You don’t understand - these frogs are said to only come out when it’s raining.’

‘But … it’s not raining, Princess Zelda.’

‘Precisely.’

Zelda stared down at the frog. Mipha’s laugh was in her ear. “Don’t chase it” echoed Mipha’s guiding voice in her head. But Zelda couldn’t let the frog escape.

She jumped down from the boulder, crashing into the pond with a spray that sent the lilies bobbing along the now-choppy surface. The frog, seemingly disoriented, hadn’t yet slipped away.

As Zelda waded forth, Mipha’s hand was on her arm, her chest pressing into Zelda. “Be patient, Princess”. Being called “Princess” felt so different when it was Mipha who said it.

The frog kicked towards the grass and Zelda charged after it. As she drew close, however, the frog took a leap and landed in a patch of wildflowers. Mipha’s laugh was in her ear again, urging Zelda onwards, but by the time she reached the flowers, the frog had vanished. Zelda looked about, heart pounding, but there was no sign of it. She cried out in dismay.

Paya hurried off the boulder and started searching through the grass.

Mipha’s laugh was gone from Zelda’s ear, and how empty it felt now to stand alone. Senses returning, she brought her hand to her mouth. Her cheeks grew warm. What had come over her just now? Mipha … that time … how had she let those thoughts cross her mind so easily, so vividly? So eager had she been to capture the frog that such thoughts hadn’t even seemed amiss. Thoughts she’d have been too embarrassed to recall so openly in daylight back then. Were such thoughts really so close to breaking through the moment she lowered her guard? Coming to Zora’s Domain had been a worse idea than she’d thought.

Paya looked up from the grass to Zelda’s stricken face. ‘Don’t worry, Princess - I’ll catch it for you.’

Zelda could barely hear her, let alone answer. Frozen with despair, she stared down at the grass where the frog had sat. A cold drop of rain hit her head.

Grey clouds drifted eastward to shadow Zora’s Domain that morning, bringing with them Hylian guards to escort Zelda home. The guards had arrived no earlier than expected, yet Zelda’s eyes still flashed to them indignantly as they stood patiently waiting beyond Great Zora Bridge, where the blue stone and faint music gave way to worn pebbles and wind rustling the grass. She turned to Mipha, who had walked with her to the end of the bridge, and drew close so that the guards might not hear them, not that words were especially coming to her at that moment. Mipha touched Zelda’s arm.

‘I do hope you enjoyed your visit.’

Zelda’s shoulders sagged a little. An ache grew in her chest. ‘Of course.’ She paused. ‘The choir … I - I’ve never heard such beautiful music.’

‘I’ll be sure to pass on your compliment,’ said Mipha.

Zelda nodded mechanically. Silence fell between them, until Zelda finally braced herself and put on a bright smile. ‘It was wonderful to see you again, Mipha.’

She turned quickly, her smile rapidly fading as she faced the guards. She started towards them and felt Mipha’s hand on her arm once more.

‘Why don’t I accompany you a little while,’ said Mipha. ‘It’s a pleasant day for walking.’

And so they soon found themselves trekking up Ruto Mountain together, the cracks and echoes of the mountain trail enveloping Zelda and Mipha in their silence amidst the plodding clanks of the guards. Zelda faintly sensed Mipha’s glances, but her gaze didn’t stray from the path, her mind already back at Hyrule Castle with her father and his stern words.

Down from Ruto Mountain was Luto’s Crossing. It was there after the group had crossed the water that Mipha stopped.

‘Princess Zelda, I believe I was going to show you my father’s monument before you left.’

Zelda frowned with confusion, but Mipha returned it with a smile of beguiling sweetness, looking from Zelda to the guards. ‘We won’t be long,’ said Mipha. ‘And don’t worry, Princess Zelda will be quite safe with me.’

Zelda followed Mipha off the path, her face slowly lighting with an incredulous smile as they started down a jagged, grassy slope against the cliffside. ‘I don’t remember speaking of this,’ she whispered.

‘Oh?’ was all Mipha said.

When the guards were out of sight, Mipha slowed, allowing the two of them to pick their way more leisurely down to smoother ground and through a tunnel-like fissure in the rocks. The cliff’s slight overhang left the path in shadow, bringing a shiver to Zelda as she followed Mipha down towards a lake.

A shrub by Zelda’s feet jostled as she passed. Something dark shot out, grazing her head, and Zelda gasped. Mipha turned in time to see her grasping at the air.

‘You missed it,’ giggled Zelda. ‘I believe it was a darner, only it was blue.’

‘Yes, we call them Cold Darners.’

Zelda’s eyes widened. ‘Cold Darners,’ she echoed. ‘The last time I saw such a specimen I was travelling to Rito Village. This all makes perfect sense.’ She reached into her pocket to scribble down a note. Stuffing the paper back away, she laughed in apology. ‘I must admit regional variants of a species are a hopeless fascination of mine.’

Mipha gave a knowing smile. ‘Oh?’ She stepped back as Zelda excitedly rushed past her.

A small shadow lurked close in the shallows of the lake, and Zelda crouched on the bank to peer closer. ‘Hello there,’ she whispered, rolling up her sleeve. Her hand plunged into the lake.

A frog burst from the water, flying into the air past Zelda’s hand and landing behind her. Zelda twisted, turning just in time to see the frog leap away into a patch of weeds.

‘A lucky find,’ said Mipha, drawing close as Zelda gave her watery hand a disappointed flick. ‘One doesn’t usually see a Tireless Frog unless it’s raining.’

Zelda glanced up at the darkening sky. A cold drop hit her forehead. Another followed. A moment later and the lake’s smooth surface was speckled with rain. Zelda and Mipha’s eyes met with a small laugh.

Zelda quickly abandoned the frog to return to the cliffside, where a pair of glowing stones illuminated a high stretch of carvings along the cliff’s blue surface. Zelda reached out to touch the monument but managed to catch herself. She stepped back instead, hoping to better absorb the Zoran glyphs from a respectful distance. The cliff’s overhang, however, proved to be no shield as cold drops pattered onto her head, and she shivered again, huddling closer to the cliffside.

‘Ah - my apologies,’ said Mipha. ‘I forgot that Hylians aren’t fond of rain.’ She stepped close and raised the fin at her forearm over Zelda’s hunched frame, letting the raindrops fall harmlessly to the side.

Zelda’s cheeks grew hot. ‘Thank you,’ she managed. ‘These - these glyphs - what do they say?’

Mipha glanced to the wall. ‘Ah, yes, of course. Well, it’s an old story - one my father told me often as a child. It tells of a king who lacked skill as a fighter, but nevertheless found himself drawn into battle for the sake of his people, who he dearly loved. And his queen, hoping to protect him, took one of her brilliantly white scales and wove it into the king’s armour. It would seem that this worked, for when the king inevitably found himself trapped and facing a mortal blow from his enemy, a beam of sunlight hit the scale on the king’s armour, blinding the enemy and saving the king’s life. It was a miracle, really. A miracle that allowed him to emerge victorious from the battle.’

Zelda looked down from the monument with a rueful smile. She felt cold again. ‘How lucky for him.’

Mipha's voice softened. ‘You won’t need a miracle.’

Zelda froze. The patter of rain grew louder around them. Crickets hummed about their feet. Zelda managed a curt nod, her lips becoming a tight line, and then she straightened, letting Mipha’s arm fall wayside. ‘Thank you for showing me the monument.’

Mipha quickly waved her hand. ‘The monument isn’t truly important,’ she said. ‘I have something much better to show you.’

Mipha walked into the rain and gestured Zelda back to the lake’s edge. ‘I’m going to show you how to catch a frog.’

A faint laugh escaped Zelda. ‘Mipha …’

Mipha stopped before the water and peered along the bank. ‘It’s a natural instinct, and common mistake, to simply try to match the frog’s speed,’ she said. ‘There’s an easier way. It just requires a bit of patience.’

She smiled over her shoulder to Zelda, and Zelda moved irresistibly to her side. Mipha took Zelda’s arms and gently steered her to face the weeds. Zelda, stiff as a petrified tree, froze further as Mipha leaned into her. ‘Do you see it?’ Mipha whispered.

Zelda blinked. Somewhere between the pressure tingling against her back and the sudden pounding of her heart, she managed to stare hard at the clump of greenery until a small, brown blob became apparent amongst the leaves.

‘The frog anticipates a chase, so the trick is not to give it one,’ said Mipha.

Zelda gave a faint nod, far more occupied over the way Mipha’s hands lingered on her.

‘Soon it will try to return to the water. But to do that it first must position itself. You must wait and watch. It will jump for the water, and that’s when you grasp it from the side.’

Panic cut clean through Zelda’s haze. ‘I’ll never be fast enough!’

‘Nonsense,’ said Mipha. She stepped back. ‘Bend your knees. Loosen yourself.’

Zelda, meek, hunched slightly in an effort to appease her. Mipha pressed close again, guiding her into more of a crouch. She reached down to grasp Zelda’s wrist and their fingers met. Zelda jerked away, forgetting, in that instance, that the touch had not been of her own thoughtless initiation. She flashed Mipha an apologetic smile.

Back in the weeds, the frog turned to face the lake. Zelda, panicking, grabbed for it, but the frog hadn’t jumped. Panicking even harder, Zelda managed to yank her hand back without the frog’s notice. ‘Oh - I’m no good at this.’

Mipha laughed by her ear, even closer than Zelda had realised. ‘Be patient, Princess.’

Zelda blushed. If she were to turn, she thought, their faces would meet, and what might happen then?

Just as her imagination threatened to carry her away, the frog jumped.

Zelda lunged for it, but the frog flew easily from her reach and landed back in the water, nowhere to be seen by the time Zelda had scrambled to the edge. She looked back to Mipha, a smile of barely restrained mirth on her face. They broke into giggles.

‘Thank you for trying,’ said Zelda. ‘Perhaps I’d best stick to my ancient Sheikah tech. Those relics are much more manageable.’

‘A little patience, remember?’ said Mipha. ‘You can do it, Zelda. You have everything you need to succeed.’

Zelda smiled despite herself. Mipha reached down to help Zelda stand and their hands met properly this time. Zelda held Mipha’s gaze as she rose, a lightness blooming in her chest.

‘Thank you. I can’t imagine doing this without you. Truly. I really am that Zora king, hopeless and blessed that someone …’ Panicked, she started giggling again. ‘No - I mean, I suppose I’m more like another trial, in a way. In fact I ought to apologise, for misleading you - when you accepted the mission to help Hyrule, you didn’t know that meant having to help me too.’ Her giggles grew strained.

Mipha giggled as well, more faint. She didn’t meet Zelda’s eye. A pained silence fell, and Zelda watched as Mipha slowly turned to look back up the path they’d come. Somewhere unseen above them, the guards still awaited their return. Sensing an opportunity slipping away, Zelda took a breath. ‘Why did you bring me to this monument?’

Mipha paused. She started to look back at Zelda and then stopped, too slow to keep Zelda from glimpsing the wide-eyed surprise on her face. Mipha’s mouth opened and promptly closed. She twisted away.

A strange thrill warmed Zelda. It seemed to her that the question had an easy answer, but Mipha hadn’t chosen it. Zelda smiled. ‘Whatever the reason, I must thank you. It was good to spend a little more time together.’

Mipha nodded.

With the rain showing no sign of easing, Zelda shielded her head with her arm and pressed onward up the grassy slope. Mipha followed a few steps behind, and Zelda knew better than to look back at her.

Ahead, a dark shape caught Zelda’s eye. She slowed for a moment and then dove across the path, landing flat on her stomach. Mipha hurried forward and gripped her shoulder. ‘Are you alright?’

Zelda rolled over. Gripped in her hands was a squirming Tireless Frog. ‘Mipha - I did it! I - I barely even thought about it - I just let my instinct - a better instinct - take over, and look!’ She held the frog aloft and laughed, gleeful as a child.

Zelda had never smiled like that before in Mipha’s presence, and Mipha looked. She couldn’t take her eyes off her. ‘Oh,’ she murmured.

Half a dozen envelopes sat piled upon the guest room desk, bearing queries and requests from merchants, planners, tradespeople - likely more, though Zelda was in no hurry to discover them. Most were from the realms bordering Hyrule and required a level of diplomacy in response, one Zelda had no patience for at that moment. She’d sat with a reply for what already felt like an agonising time, the light of her lamp slowly dimming beside her as she started and restarted sentences, her quill digging deeper into the parchment with each new attempt.

The Tireless Frog bounded away as Zelda wrote. Zelda squeezed her eyes shut, breathing tersely through her nose, and then continued writing. It was only a frog, after all. Meanwhile, the merchant wanted to know the feasibility of setting up shop in Hyrule Castle Town. It had been some time since their previous enquiry, and they did not want to lose out on a prize position, not when their supply of durians could be brought in with merely a word. They promised the durians did not stink.

The frog bounced away again through the wildflowers.

Zelda gritted her teeth. A frog - how indulgent it was to let herself dwell on a frog. There was certainly no lack of actual issues needing her attention. Did her responsibilities not bear enough weight anymore? Would she reply to this letter and explain as much? “Apologies for the brevity, but I could not catch the frog”?

We could permit a contained store for your produce so long as it remained downwind of the township, Zelda wrote.

As though rewarding this meagre effort, her thoughts turned irresistibly back to Mipha’s hands lingering on her, gentle but strong. She thought of taking one of those hands and pressing it to her mouth, as she’d done in that cursed dream from last night.

Zelda shivered with a dreadful pleasure both painful and enticing.

Mipha had sat so close to her - she’d even spoken to her. Where had that dream been in all the time that had passed since the Calamity ended?

Zelda shook herself, blushing at her shamelessness.

Or perhaps underground, if that is agreeable to a durian’s constitution.

“Can you answer?” she’d asked - well, it was not as though Mipha had said no. Perhaps the frog was the answer.

Zelda exhaled sharply again and managed to add a few more protracted sentences to the page. As she dotted the final sentence complete, her frustration sent the quill tip clean through the parchment.

Mipha leaned over her, hand reaching down Zelda’s arm. “A little patience, remember?”

Zelda shivered again.

Perhaps it was too much of a coincidence - the dream and the frog, side by side in such a manner as that. Could they not be connected somehow? Connected as if … a sign.

Zelda grimaced at her own ridiculousness.

Of course it was a coincidence. But of course she’d still hope for such a sign regardless. Even in death, Mipha couldn’t be free from her hopelessness. It was not enough for Mipha’s spirit to have been trapped in Vah Ruta for an age. Her duty wouldn’t be over until Zelda was dead alongside her.

The parchment creased as Zelda leaned heavily onto her elbows and rubbed her face. Mipha had done so much for her already. Could she really feel moved to reach out to her, even now? Though it horrified Zelda to acknowledge it, the thought did hold some comfort. Zelda gave a small gasp of despair.

‘I’m sorry. I miss you.’

A great pressure surged in her head and chest, aching for release. But Zelda hadn’t cried since her return. She didn’t dare. Instead, she let the pressure build and ache, and build and ache. She crumpled onto the desk and buried her face in her arms.

As Zelda sat distraught, the ache suddenly started to fade. A warmth spread around her head and shoulders instead, strange but welcome. For all that it did not make sense, as well, her breath managed to grow slow and steady again, as if she were sitting at the waterfall once more.

Confounded, Zelda looked up and found the wall in front of her awash in aquamarine light. She turned just in time to catch a glimpse of flames bearing that same strange light flutter past her. Zelda’s mouth fell open. Tearing against the confusing calm befalling her, she gripped the back of her chair and looked around.

Mipha looked back at her, aglow with the aquamarine light. She stood just behind the chair, smaller than Zelda remembered, but smiling the same gentle smile that Zelda knew so well. Transfixed, Zelda could only stare as Mipha drew her arms back from Zelda and the chair, her aquamarine hand coming to rest over her heart. Then the light started to brighten. Mipha’s features fade amidst the haze. The Champion cloth at her shoulder, the tilt of her chin, the last of her smile - that was all Zelda could find before the light surged and Mipha vanished.

Zelda sat frozen, too surprised to even breathe. ‘Wait!’ she finally gasped, all too late. She stumbled from her chair to where Mipha had stood, but neither a warmth nor a chill still lingered. She turned around in a daze and looked back at her desk. The hour was late. She could have fallen asleep without noticing - another strange dream to add to the tally. And yet …

Zelda stared hard at the place where Mipha had stood, puzzling, her mind filling with that aquamarine light. Her hand ran up her shoulder where the warmth had been, searching. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the warmth seemed to linger inside her, staving off her despair. Zelda’s grip tightened on her shoulder.

Perhaps she hadn’t been quite so ridiculous as she’d thought. Perhaps Mipha really did hear her.

Chapter Text

Only a day remained until the festival, and so it was with little surprise that Zelda came upon Prince Sidon surrounded by attendants as he directed the placement of jewelled garlands along the upper level of the domain. The Zora band, still unseen, were in full swing practicing another song, its joyful melody matching Sidon’s eager gestures. Resolute as Zelda had felt leaving her room that morning, she paused at the sight of Sidon, her resolve quickly shrinking, but then Sidon saw her from the corner of his eye. He immediately excused himself from the proceedings. Time had seen him grow to a regal height in Zelda’s absence, but the smile of enthusiasm on his face as he strode towards her proved at least one thing about him hadn’t changed.

‘Princess Zelda - how wonderful to see you!’ he said. ‘Were you coming up to see my father?’

‘No,’ said Zelda, her voice low. ‘Actually … I was wondering if you had a moment to talk with me.’

Sidon grinned. ‘Why - I would happily spend the entire day talking with you, Princess, if time permitted. You have my ear, of course. Shall we walk together?’

Zelda hesitated again, but she didn’t resist as Sidon directed them away from the curious gaze of the attendants. They embarked along a walkway that curved out from the upper level. Zelda had already bidden Paya and Cado not to trail her, knowing this wouldn’t be a conversation she’d dare risk them overhearing. But now that she had Sidon alone as her audience, Zelda could only lace her fingers together, unsure of how to begin. Mipha’s spirit was always going to be a strained subject to broach, but the timing with the festival was undeniably poor, especially when Sidon seemed so at peace with the occasion.

Sidon looked down at Zelda as they walked, and he smiled again. ‘I’m so happy you made it to the festival,’ he said. ‘I understand you must be terribly busy.’

Zelda’s cheeks warmed as she thought of all Sidon’s letters she’d left unanswered. Admittedly, more than half the letters she received were all but addressed to Link for all the questions and references about him they’d contained, and Link, for his part, had not touched a quill in return. No doubt Sidon wanted to enquire about him now, but perhaps he was too intrigued, or too polite at least, to forge ahead of her hesitation.

Just as Zelda tried to gather herself to speak however, Sidon gave her a conspiratorial wink. ‘I suspect I know what you came to talk about,’ he said.

Zelda stared up at him in surprise.

‘The plans,’ he went on. ‘You’ll be pleased to know I’ve had a good amount of luck in reaching out to the Gerudo. The Gorons and the Rito have shown interest as well.’

Zelda’s heart sank. ‘Ah.’

She’d known this might be coming. It had seemed worth the risk to approach Sidon regardless, but that plan had assumed she would simply come out with what she wanted to say before it got to this point.

‘As you can imagine, communications have been slow,’ said Sidon. ‘But there’ll be delegates here at the festival - I was actually hoping we might all have time to discuss matters further before everyone departs.’

Tell him. Tell him and be done with this, she thought. Her mouth became a thin line.

Sidon noted this with a regretful smile. ‘You’re hesitant - I understand. My father did request us not to discuss such matters during the festival. But the other Champions’ memories aren’t marked in such a fashion as Mipha’s, as far as I’m aware. If this festival is the occasion that can bring us all together, it does provide a unique opportunity, wouldn’t you agree? Not just to move Hyrule forward, but to honour each of the fallen Champions as well.’

Zelda winced.

There it was - what she’d been dreading. And there they were: travelling, laughing, squabbling, proudly adorned in her blue cloth. No intention of dying. How could such a fate be possible when the descendent of the Goddess stood in their midst, accompanied by the Hero like legends of old, no less? They’d believed in her to the end, and she’d never been able to show them that they were right. She never even had the chance to thank them for their faith in her.

Zelda found herself slowing, and her hands clenched into fists. She let out a low breath. ‘I’ll always endeavour to honour the Champions’ memories in whatever way I can,’ she said.

Sidon smiled wide. ‘I’m so glad to hear you say that.’

Now, thought Zelda. Speak and be done with it.

‘May I share something with you?’ said Sidon. ‘Something I envision for us?’

Zelda glanced up in dismay. Sidon was looking ahead, still smiling.

‘Of course.’

‘I believe Hyrule needs our friendship. Hylians and Zora, and the Gorons, and the Gerudo. Rito and Sheikah. Even the Koroks, if we can interest them.’ His eyes turned skyward. ‘Imagine the future we could create with a united Hyrule - the way Link and yourself and the other Champions united us before the Calamity.’

Zelda looked down.

Before the Calamity … over 100 years ago, yet they had all just been travelling together, had they not? It had been the journey to the Spring of Wisdom. Their last time together. When the Champions’ bravery shone through in the face of the Calamity suddenly upon them, their minds utterly focussed and ready to jump into action despite the glaring hole in the plan against Ganon. Urbosa had hugged her hard. Mipha’s hug had been gentle. She’d whispered something into Zelda’s ear but Zelda’s pounding heart had drowned it out. It had just been Link with her after that. And then it had just been her, born anew at last from the wreckage of her failure.

Now, a team of new faces to replace the old - the descendants of her failure. Full of trust and hope and gratitude.

Zelda shuddered. She raised her arms unconsciously, protectively, to cross over her chest.

‘With the blessing of Link and yourself,’ Sidon went on, still looking ahead, ‘Your involvement, I hope - I think we will succeed beyond what I’ve even imagined.’

Zelda faintly shook her head. She would have to be involved, that much was certain, but Link had done enough in service of Hyrule. At least, he certainly seemed to believe so. She would have to face this alone.

Sidon looked down at Zelda and his smile vanished at the sight of her barely hidden anguish. ‘Please, tell me your thoughts.’

Zelda’s mouth was dry. She and Sidon were entering a circular platform along the walkway, and Zelda took the opportunity to approach the railing and gaze onto the plaza below, hoping to appear contemplative rather than anxious.

Below, Zoras worked fastidiously to tidy the already gleaming plaza, cleaning columns and shining gems within embellishments, others polishing the banisters of the two grand staircases. Their laughter and chatter carried up to Zelda and Sidon. What might have been a day of tragic remembrance had been steered into something more like hope. Sidon seemed to have ensured that.

Zelda swallowed. ‘I think Mipha would be very proud of you, Sidon.’

Sidon blinked, taken aback, and then his chin lowered. His smile returned, though small. ‘Thank you. That means a great deal, coming from yourself.’ He joined her by the railing and they were quiet for a moment. ‘I must admit, to honour Mipha’s request of us all … I find it easier said than done. But it is small steps that carry us forward, is it not?’

It took Zelda a moment to absorb what Sidon had said, and then she frowned. ‘Mipha’s request?’

‘Well - I refer to her final words.’

Zelda’s frown remained.

‘After she spoke through the Lightscale Trident,’ Sidon added.

Zelda looked sharply up at Sidon, her mouth falling open. ‘Mipha spoke through - through the Lightscale Trident?’

Sidon’s cheeks grew pink at her sudden directness. ‘Are you … not aware of how this festival came to be, Princess Zelda?’

Zelda blinked away in a daze. Mipha spoke through her trident. She’d reached out beyond the realm of the afterlife. Could such a wonderful, terrible thing really be true? Zelda faintly shook her head, partly in answer to Sidon’s question, and partly to herself.

‘Ah.’ Sidon rested his hands onto the railing, gently bracing himself, and then paused another moment before continuing. ‘It was some time after the Calamity had ceased for the time being, when Vah Ruta had quietened, and the Zora were still deeply in mourning. Given the nature in which Mipha died—’ Zelda winced again. ‘—many wished to appease her spirit in some way. The plan was to release Mipha’s most beloved belonging, the Lightscale Trident, into Zora River. But as the Zoras did so, the trident glowed, and the voice of Mipha’s spirit rang clear through the trident.’

Zelda looked back up and held her breath, feeling her pulse clamour in her ears.

‘“The Lightscale Trident and I are one”, Mipha said. “Abandon your grief and know joy once again. Do not cry, just remember”.’

Zelda dropped her gaze with a quiet gasp. She could hear Mipha saying those words so clearly in her mind. It was exactly the kind of message she would have left. The kind Zelda knew she needed to hear. Her skin tingled with dismay, but it wasn’t long, however, before she felt an undeniable thrill of excitement along with it. She'd hoped for validation, and she'd gotten it: Mipha really did watch over them, caring for them, still, even in death.

Sidon took in Zelda’s widening eyes and hastily looked away again. ‘I apologise. I should have anticipated that such news might be distressing.’

Zelda struggled to speak, her mouth opening and closing, and then she let out a soft sigh. She found herself gripping the railing for support as well. ‘May I ask, has such a thing happened since?’ she finally managed. ‘With Mipha’s spirit, I mean. Has she visited you again?’

‘… No.’ A regretful smile crossed Sidon’s face. ‘I must admit, I am glad,’ he said. ‘If Mipha hasn’t returned to us, then that must mean her spirit rests peacefully. We’re following the path she wanted for us.’

Zelda’s grip on the railing tightened.

‘But I can only speak for us Zoras,’ said Sidon. ‘Mipha was also quite close with Link. You might do well to ask him, instead. I daresay if Mipha were to reach out to any of us since that day, it would be him.’

Zelda shook her head before she could stop herself, all too eager to dismiss the thought. What did Sidon think he knew, she thought. He was but a child when Mipha … when it mattered.

Sidon saw her dismissal and his expression grew grave. ‘Am I right to presume, Princess Zelda, that you have not heard from Link since he left Hyrule Castle?’

Zelda wearily shook her head again. It had only been a matter of time before Link became the focus of the conversation.

Sidon sighed. ‘Nor I. I must admit it concerns me.’

This would have been the time Zelda signalled to Paya and Cado to bid her leave for some forgotten, imaginary engagement. But by her own hand they were not there to help her. Zelda could only stare grimly at the plaza below.

Sidon, undaunted by her silence, took a tentative step closer. ‘You know Link better than any other, Princess. Do you believe my concerns are warranted?’

Zelda looked away. She was at the parapet of Hyrule Castle’s observation tower again, Link and his horse a fading smudge on the horizon. ‘We all need to be alone sometimes, do we not?’

‘That is true. And Link’s position is certainly a difficult one. I can understand the appeal of regaining some time, perhaps to relearn the world, to heal …’

Zelda cleared her throat irritably. ‘Yes. And it would seem that Link does that best on his own.’

A flash of earnest doubt crossed Sidon’s face, but before he could speak, a cry rang out from the plaza. Zelda and Sidon looked down to see large barrels roll heavily through parting Zoras along the plaza. A few Zoras gave chase to the barrels to head them off from their beeline towards the long stretch of Great Zora Bridge. Sidon touched his brow.

Sensing an out, Zelda smiled to him. ‘You may need to return to your duties, it seems.’

Sidon went to bow to her, and then froze. ‘My apologies! You wanted to speak with me and I have done all the talking.’

‘It can wait. There’ll be time to speak later.’ Or not, if she could help it.

Sidon dropped to his bow. ‘May you have an enjoyable time at the festival, Princess Zelda.’ He gave an encouraging smile. ‘And may we need not rule out Link’s appearance just yet.’ Zelda bowed in turn, and Sidon left, leaving Zelda to stand stiff and alone by the railing.

Zelda let out a very long breath, deflating onto her arms along the railing. She pressed her hand to her chest, her heart fluttering beneath her touch, and willed herself to calm, to straighten, lest someone see her in such a state.

It had seemed so simple to just tell Sidon what had happened last night and seek his opinion of whether it was true or a trick of her mind. But where she'd been spared from gracelessly bringing the matter to his attention, she still managed to walk away in tatters. She barely knew where to begin in piecing her thoughts together now. Until, at least, a small smile tugged the corners of her mouth.

Mipha …

Zelda reached up to hug herself. Unable to stand still, she started to drift about the platform in a daze.

Where had Mipha been all this time? Why return now? Not that it mattered, really. What mattered was that she’d come at all. Only … she hadn’t spoken as she did before with the Zoras. Could it be the passing time that made the difference - dampening Mipha’s reach? Or was there something about the trident that made it easier for her? “The Lightscale Trident and I are one” she’d said. Perhaps channelling herself through an object dear to her was easier than the kind of visit seen last night. And if the channelling had worked once, thought Zelda, might it not work again? Perhaps if she learned how it worked the first time …

Zelda’s hand reached for the notebook in her pocket that had long since disappeared. She looked back over the railing to Mipha’s statue in the plaza below. Children had been charged with caring for the plinth bearing the statue, perhaps to harness the carefree enthusiasm they were able to throw into the task, undaunted as they were by memories of the past. Zelda’s gaze lingered on Mipha’s carved profile, and then to the trident in her arms. “The Lightscale Trident and I are one” … yet that wasn’t all Mipha had said. “Abandon your grief”. “Know joy once again”. “Do not cry, just remember”.

Zelda’s smile flickered and faded. She stopped by the railing again. Below, Zoras rolled the errant barrels back through the plaza. The cleaning Zoras laughed, some clapping in light-hearted celebration as the barrels passed. Zelda’s cheeks turned an unhappy red as she watched them. How quickly those smiles would fade if they knew that amongst their celebration of Mipha’s request, there Zelda stood, pining, clinging hopelessly like a child to Mipha’s hand, begging her to stay.

The Zoras loved Mipha enough to do as she’d asked. To take a step forward, as Sidon might say. Did she think herself above that, Zelda wondered. Too far gone to even try, perhaps? Even if that were true ... didn’t she owe it to Mipha to try all the same? Her life's duty was to restore Hyrule, after all. She owed her fallen people a sense of optimism for the future. She owed that to her friends - to Sidon, who had known that cold statue on the plaza far longer than he had ever known his sister.

If Hyrule would continue moving forwards, then she should move with it, like Mipha would have wanted. Sidon was even trying to make it easy for her.

Zelda watched as Sidon suddenly arrived below to check on the Zora, the Zora's work slowing as they turned and smiled at his approach.

Sidon ... he truly had succeeded where she kept failing. Mipha would be proud beyond words, Zelda thought, and with a pang, realised she was proud of him too.

Sidon was much braver than her. Deep down, she knew she didn’t need him to tell her if what she saw last night was true or in her head. She could let it all be a simple trick of her mind, if that was really what she wanted it to be.

Zelda waited alone on the upper level balcony of Zora’s Domain. Nights of travelling the road to Zora's Domain in her mind had finally become reality again, and though the journey had been long, she couldn't help but smile, her mind slowly lulled as the music of the domain rose and fell around her, filling her thoughts with shining blue and gentle waves.

To simply be in the domain again, listening, and breathing - it was the same peace of taking off one’s travelling clothes after a long journey, of stretching and slumping onto the nearest soft surface. The castle had felt like that once. Then it had shrunk to her bed chamber and study. Some days it was only her study. Some days it was only the thought of a time beyond now - a daydream, a timid fantasy. Now it was here, as a hand pressed into her back, jolting her to her senses. It was Mipha’s voice, and Zelda turning like a flower finding the sun. It was even Mipha’s smile fading to concern at the sight of her.

Mipha pulled Zelda into a hug. ‘What’s the matter? Is it your father again?’

Zelda’s heart grew full just to hear Mipha’s voice again. Nothing at all could be wrong in that moment. ‘I’m alright,’ she murmured. ‘Just a little tired. But there's so much to talk about. You, the Domain, Vah Ruta-'

‘Vah Ruta?’ echoed Mipha, feigning shock. ‘Were my extra reports for you not enough?’

‘I could tell you were still holding back.’

Mipha laughed. ‘I’ve missed you, Zelda.’

Zelda squeezed her tighter. ‘I’ve missed you, too.’

Mipha pulled apart and grasped her hand. ‘You’re right, by the way. And I hope you forgave the shortness of my reports. It’s silly, really, but when I’m with Vah Ruta, I often imagine what your reactions would be, or what you might have thought, so much that I sometimes forget you weren’t there with me.’

Zelda was flustered into silence as they started walking. I thought about you too, she wanted to say.

Mipha was turning towards the inn, Zelda to one of the domain’s longer, water-laid walking paths. Their arms pulled taught. Mipha dropped her hand and looked questioningly to Zelda. Zelda kept walking. She would rest once her mouth was sore from hours of talking and laughter.

They continued walking along the path, the music of the domain returning Zelda to her earlier dreamy haze. A gaggle of Zora children passed them, beaming and waving. Zelda smiled and waved back. She smiled again, despite herself. Then she looked to Mipha, quiet, glad just to see her face once more.

Mipha smiled back at her. ‘What is it?’

Zelda tore her eyes away. ‘Oh, nothing. It’s just been far too long since my last visit. I can't tell you how glad I was to have your letters in the meantime, short or not.’

‘I must admit, I grew worried reading your replies,’ Mipha said softly. ‘It seemed like something was troubling you.’

Zelda’s smile fell. ‘Oh, no,’ she said quickly. ‘I enjoyed my visits to the Champions a great deal. Urbosa is getting along excellently with Vah Naboris. Revali seems quite assured of his bond with Vah Medoh, too. And Daruk’s confidence is much better. He and Vah Rudania are growing to be much more in sync.’

‘Wonderful! That all sounds quite promising!’

Zelda murmured in agreement, then tucked her hair behind her ear with a low breath. She was pulling ahead of Mipha now. Mipha's hand found hers again, keeping her close.

‘How are you and Link?’

‘Ah, well ... better, at least. I don’t know that we’re friends the way you’d hoped, but, I think we understand each other now.’

Mipha nodded encouragingly. Zelda shot her a small smile. ‘Thank you. You wanted me to give him a chance, so I did. Who knows, perhaps we’ll be friends yet.’

Mipha’s nodding slowed. Her mouth became a thin line. ‘Yes. Well, you must have seen some remarkable sights during your travels,’ she quickly continued. ‘Desert, snow, volcano … I was surprised they didn’t enter your letters. Not even the regional variant of a darner.’

‘I suppose I was a little distracted.’ But never mind that - nothing will be wrong in this moment. Zelda shook Mipha’s hand with an impatient laugh. ‘Tell me, how fares Sidon?’

As hoped, Mipha’s concern lifted with a fond smile. ‘Very well. He has lessons at the moment, or else he’d be on our trail as always.’

‘I do miss those little footsteps pattering after us.’

Mipha giggled. ‘You wouldn’t believe he’ll grow to be taller than most Zora one day, would you.’

Zelda blinked, thinking of all the shoulders she already barely met amongst the Zoras of the domain, and then realisation dawned. ‘A royal trait, I presume? But then … that must mean that you’ll grow tall as well?’

‘That’s right.’

An irrepressible smile returned to Zelda. Mipha blushed as she saw this. ‘Will you not change as you grow older?’ she spluttered.

Zelda laughed. ‘Wider, perhaps. But not taller.’ Reminded of the birthday that loomed on the horizon, Zelda suddenly looked away. Mipha glanced to her, seeing the way Zelda’s laugh had become pointed silence, and tactfully let Zelda’s hand slip free. Zelda quickened her pace.

They came towards the eastward bridge and climbed the steps to its pavilion. The wall of the reservoir came into view, along with the waterfalls that towered from the nearby mountains. Zelda slowed, knowing that to leave the domain was also to leave all its hiding places. She knew that once Mipha had her cornered, there was no telling what nonsense she’d let slip from her mouth.

Zelda paused at the edge of the pavilion and instead drew close to the railing, half-heartedly admiring the ribbons of water that fell from the upper levels of the domain and melded with the lake below. Mipha stopped beside her.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Zelda. ‘I must be more tired than I realised.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you must be. But there’s something else, isn’t there.’

Zelda sensed Mipha turn to look at her.

‘Zelda, let me speak plainly. I care about you a great deal.’

Zelda’s eyes widened. She glanced up and was instantly caught in Mipha’s gaze. ‘I hope you understand, then,’ Mipha continued, ‘when I say that I can’t simply let you suffer alone like this. We’ll get through it together, remember?’

Zelda looked back down. ‘Really, I’m fine. It’s nothing important, I assure you.’

‘And yet a splinter, though small, may still lead to infection if left untreated.’

An anxious laugh escaped Zelda, and then she bit her lip. Why must she always make Mipha worry?

Her mind raced for something plausible, something that would distract, anything but the truth. But then Mipha touched her arm, and Zelda’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

‘Very well,’ she murmured. ‘It’s my father, as you thought. Things have been difficult since I returned home. I … I’ve had to abandon my research. He insisted.’

Her fingers knotted together, and she found herself leaning into the tall column by the rail. ‘Father said the research was a distraction. Maybe he was right. Only not in the way he thinks.’ She sighed. ‘All this prayer, these pilgrimages … the research was making progress. It had some hope, at least. Now what am I left with?’

Mipha bowed her head in dismay. ‘I’m sorry. I know how important the research was to you.’

Zelda leaned closer into the column, tucking herself away in what meagre way there was on the airy bridge. Mipha didn’t try to move closer. Her own fingers were twisting as well.

‘If I may say so, Zelda, perhaps your troubles are not as much about your father as they are your training.’

Zelda looked back at her in wordless surprise. Mipha’s eyes instantly widened with regret. ‘Zelda, I apologise —’

‘No,’ said Zelda. ‘It’s true.’

She suddenly felt hot. Something felt opened - wrested more like, or ripped, and there was no closing it up. She gripped her head with both hands and sank onto the railing.

Mipha’s hand rose anxiously to her chest. ‘Zelda …’

Zelda’s voice was strained. ‘What if I can’t do it in time, Mipha?’

Mipha froze.

‘I’ve been training since I was a child. Why can’t I do this? Why can’t I just do something right for once?’

‘Zelda, don’t —’

‘Everything I can give - it’s not enough,’ Zelda gasped. ‘The Calamity will come and I won’t be ready. You - everyone - Hyrule will be —’

Mipha threw her arms around Zelda, pressing her face against Zelda’s in quiet desperation, hugging her shoulders tight.

Zelda’s voice died in her throat. She stood rigid and breathless, too shocked to think, waiting for Mipha to straighten, to apologise for the sudden gesture, perhaps even make an excuse to leave. But Mipha didn’t let go. Her grip tightened around Zelda with a sharp exhale, and Zelda sank heavier onto the railing. Her shoulders started quivering. ‘I’m sorry,’ Zelda sobbed. ‘You try so hard to help me and all I do is twist it back into despair.’

‘No,’ said Mipha, quiet but firm. ‘I should have listened to you. I don’t want you hiding your feelings for my sake, Zelda. Ever.’

‘But ...’

‘No, I mean it.’

Mipha loosened her arms and swept the hair from Zelda’s face. ‘If what you’re feeling is despair, then I’ll do everything I can to help you. But feeling that doesn’t make you wrong. I … I need you to believe that, Zelda.’

Zelda blinked. She didn’t understand, but the earnestness in Mipha’s eyes spoke to something inside her all the same. ‘Alright,’ said Zelda. She wiped her eyes. ‘I’ll try.’

Mipha hugged her again, pinning Zelda in place and making her chuckle. Cradled in those arms, with Mipha’s heartbeat thrumming against her, Zelda suddenly felt light. Her hitched breath slowed, and her headache eased.

‘Is there anything I could do right now that would help make things easier?’ said Mipha.

Zelda couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You’ve already helped me so much, don’t you know that?’

Mipha fell back in surprise. Her eyes were wide. ‘I have?’

Zelda threw up her hands, laughing again in disbelief.

‘Yes.’

Mipha flushed. ‘I - didn’t realise, no. I’m so glad I’ve been helpful to you!’

Zelda shook her head in amazement. Another few moments and she had rubbed her eyes on her sleeve and taken a few deep breaths, and they continued walking through the pavillion.

Zelda’s footsteps felt strange as she walked alongside Mipha. A weight was gone. One she hadn’t even noticed was there, but now felt so clear. This is how it’s supposed to feel, she thought. This is how I want to feel every day.

They drifted further along the bridge and up towards the mountains, talking in fits and bursts about the Champions and the Divine Beasts, then of ancient Sheikah technology and the experiments the research teams had found promising results with. Zelda grew wistful as she spoke, and Mipha touched her arm. ‘Think of all the experiments you want to do,’ she said. ‘They’ll still be there, when you have time. Perhaps you and I could work on something together.’

Zelda smiled, and Mipha returned it with a hint of mischief. She touched her chin. ‘Oh, but I forgot - you prefer to carry out your studies alone. Isn’t that right?’

Zelda laughed. ‘Perhaps I was wrong about that.’ She looked to Mipha and her smile of mischief, and her heart ached with joy. ‘Perhaps I could show you the sights of Hyrule, as well,’ she said. ‘Since you missed that from my letters. I don’t think letters would have done them justice anyway.’

The mischief in Mipha's smile flickered into something more emotional, and then her smile became bright. ‘I think that’s an excellent idea.’

Zelda smiled to herself as she walked, squeezing her eyes shut in disbelief and then opening them, a low breath escaping her. She turned and gently gripped Mipha's shoulders, stopping them both. ‘Mipha, thank you.’

Mipha’s mouth fell open. She blinked rapidly as Zelda leaned close. Zelda hesitated, just briefly, and then she summoned her courage and pressed her lips to Mipha’s brow. She lingered there, perhaps a few moments too longer than was proper, gently squeezing Mipha’s shoulders. They both shivered. Then Zelda stepped back.

Mipha’s eyes slowly opened in amazement.

Zelda tried and failed to hold back a nervous giggle. ‘I needed to do that now, before you’re too tall to reach.’

Mipha giggled as well at this, more faintly, her cheeks turning a familiar pink. She and Zelda looked at each other, their eyes not quite meeting as smiles hovered on their lips. ‘Why don’t we pay Vah Ruta a visit,’ Zelda suggested, ‘and you can tell me everything that I’ve missed.’

Mipha smiled warmly at this.

As they headed towards the East Reservoir stairs, the strange, light feeling in Zelda didn't abate. She glanced to Mipha as they started up the steps and saw her touching her brow in wonder. Zelda smiled again. She couldn’t stop. She’d follow Mipha down that waterfall without hesitation this time. She could dive from Shatterback Point without fear in that moment.

Amongst the preoccupied clusters of hardworking Zoras along the stairs, Zelda’s stooped frame darted past unnoticed. Her hands were clenched as she descended to the lower plaza. Fool, fool, fool, she thought with each step. But even as the admonishment drummed in her head, her heart felt lighter. Aching, but lighter, a fearful hope brimming within her.

She nodded to the red-scaled Zora stationed outside Marot Mart and marched inside through the shop to a quiet back room, where an older Zora sat hunched over a workbench. Marot, standing agape outside, hurried in from her post outside the shop to grab the older Zora’s attention. ‘Grandfather - we have an important guest.’

The older Zora grunted. Marot shot Zelda a panicked smile and then lowered her head to her grandfather. ‘It’s Princess Zelda,’ she hissed.

The Zora looked up from his workbench and peered over his shoulder.

‘Good afternoon,’ said Zelda. ‘You are Dento, the blacksmith?’

‘That’s me.’

Marot nudged him, but Zelda stepped closer despite his curtness. ‘I’ve been told you were one of the Zoras who heard Mipha speak the day the Zoras tried to send her trident down the river,’ she said. ‘I was wondering if you’d be willing to tell me about it.’

Dento lowered his tools. ‘What do you want to know, Princess Zelda?’

‘Everything.’ She sat down on an empty stool and leaned towards him. Dento turned to face Zelda properly. Marot looked between them, intrigue overcoming shyness as she leaned forward as well.

‘Everything …’ said Dento. ‘Well, let me see … we put the trident in the water, the trident glowed. Suddenly we heard Lady Mipha’s voice clear as day. Don’t be sad, she said, just remember me —’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Zelda. ‘But the trident - it was special to her, correct?’

A small smile passed Dento’s lips. ‘It belonged to Lady Mipha since the day she was born. I made it in her honour.’

‘I see. And why do you think Lady Mipha chose that moment to speak with you?’

‘Perhaps she was tired of watching our moping.’ Dento’s smile pointedly remained, but Zelda met it with all the receptiveness of a stone wall.

‘Hm. And Mipha’s never spoken through the trident since that time, is that true?’

Dento leaned his hands on his knees and sighed. ‘Correct. It seems the festival has been enough to appease her spirit.’

Zelda paused, thinking on this, and a glint caught her eye on the workbench behind Dento. A trident lay there, the green beads and red finish of its curves shining in the light of the window.

Zelda leapt to her feet. ‘The Lightscale Trident - you have it here?!’

Dento and Marot looked behind him. ‘That? No,’ said Dento. ‘That’s a ceremonial trident we keep for the festival.’

Zelda froze. ‘Ah,’ she breathed.

She sank back down onto the stool. Her fingers tingled, betrayed by the dashed chance to touch something of Mipha’s - something that, in a strange sense, almost was Mipha. She pressed her hands together on her lap, desperately summoning the words to move on. ‘If you do not use the Lightscale Trident for the festival,’ she said, ‘… might that be why Mipha hasn’t spoken to you again?’

Marot looked curiously to Dento. Dento was quiet, and then he shrugged. ‘It’s enough to have heard her once more, to know she was thinking of us still,’ he said. ‘Besides, the trident is no longer in the Zoras’ possession. After Lady Mipha’s spirit was freed, our king gave the trident to your friend Link.’

A pained smile flashed across Zelda’s face. She blinked down at her lap. ‘Of course.’

Of course he had the trident. He’d gotten everything - the redemption, the goodbyes, the closure.

Zelda dug her fingernails into her thighs. Marot sensed an impending heavy silence. ‘Let me make us some tea,’ she said.

She dashed out of the room back into the shop, leaving Dento to shift uncomfortably in his seat. The heavy silence inevitably fell, trapping he and Zelda both. Dento went to return to his work, but a sense of decorum pulled him back. He scratched his neck instead. ‘If it’s the Lightscale Trident you’re interested in, Princess Zelda, this copy - inferior as it is for battle purposes, is still its visual equal. You’re welcome to examine it.’

‘Thank you,’ said Zelda, though she remained on her stool.

The Lightscale Trident already lived enough in her head. And that would have to be enough; there’d been no keepsakes for herself in the wake of it all. She could tell herself, as she had many times already, that she’d been gifted with something greater - she had the Champions’ legacy to uphold, to carry on their hopes and dreams for Hyrule. But what she would give now to have Mipha’s trident in her hands instead and be considered its just keeper.

Zelda’s eyes dragged back up to Dento. What did he really remember of her, she wondered. He was much older than Sidon - surely his memories were more trustworthy. What had he seen when he saw her and Mipha together? Would he too believe that the trident belonged with Link? “If Mipha were to reach out to any of us since that day, it would be him” - well, what if that wasn’t entirely true, either? What if someone else disagreed?

The questions bubbling inside Zelda didn’t make it to her throat. She glanced at Dento again, trying to conjure the will to say something, but nothing came. Her shoulders sagged.

Marot returned with a tray and another Zora in tow. The Zora, hunched from age, peeked at Zelda from behind Marot’s back. Zelda tried to gather herself from her slump.

‘Princess, this is Trello,’ said Marot. ‘He’s the official organiser of the Champion Festival.’

Dento scoffed. ‘He’s also an old snoop who doesn’t know when he’s not welcome.’

Trello huffed. He shuffled out from behind Marot and bowed to Zelda. ‘Princess, it’s an honour to see you again. You may not remember me - I’m afraid I’m not the young knight I was when we first met.’

Zelda managed to meet this with a ready, impersonal smile. The Royal Guard had always been on the periphery of her visits - welcoming checkpoints on her path to Mipha rather than faces she could put to names. There’d never been enough time in those visits as it were, but perhaps if the circumstances had been less urgent then, and less fraught now, she’d be able to receive Trello warmly.

Dento leaned into Trello’s line of sight. ‘Princess Zelda came to see me personally,’ he said.

Trello gaped at him. He turned back to Zelda and hastily bowed again. ‘Princess, if there’s anything I can do to assist you - I am at your service. Please.’

Dento answered this with another jibe and Trello rounded on him. As the two began to bicker, Marot set her tray down near Zelda and offered her a cup. Zelda saw the chance to excuse herself, to push the Lightscale Trident from her mind, at least for now, and found herself hesitantly accepting Marot’s cup regardless.

‘Thank you for visiting,’ Marot whispered. ‘The elders love to talk about the old times.’

Zelda looked back at Trello more curiously. What did he remember of her, she wondered. What did he remember of Mipha? She couldn’t deny it was more than she did. Much more.

Marot shoved a cup into Dento’s hands. ‘Grandfather, please. Don’t you have any other stories about Lady Mipha you could tell Princess Zelda?’

‘I have stories about Lady Mipha,’ said Trello.

Dento waved his cup. ‘Ah, yes, regale us with the tale of the time Lady Mipha healed you from a Bokoblin wound.’

Trello glared. ‘It was a Moblin wound, but you already knew that.’

Zelda couldn’t help but soften as she sipped her tea. She could picture it - Mipha’s hand slowly waving, the cool glow of its holy light reflected in the gold of her eyes. Her power had come so easily to her - without barely a thought, it seemed. Though Zelda knew better than that.

Zelda chewed her lip. ‘You must have known Lady Mipha quite well …’ she began, but as Dento and Trello’s eyes fell back on her, Zelda’s voice faded. What if neither Trello nor Dento remembered things as she did? What if they had the same false assumptions as Sidon? Or worse, that she would be proven wrong?

As she tried to stifle her panicked thoughts, Trello turned his back resolutely on Dento to face Zelda properly again. ‘Indeed we did, Princess Zelda.’ He thought for a moment. ‘No doubt you have your own stories of Lady Mipha, but perhaps you’d like to hear a story of Lady Mipha when she was not yet a Champion?’

Zelda’s grip tightened around her cup. Her heart already began to ache, but she couldn’t stop herself from answering with a small nod.

Trello thought for another moment, a distant smile forming, and then set down his cup. ‘Well then - this was long ago, when I myself was only a fledgling member of the Royal Guard. Lady Mipha had begged our sergeant, Seggin, to let her join a small team of us on our inspection of Ruto Mountain. There’d been reports of strange activity there - odd gatherings of Electric Chuchus, uncommon to the area. Lady Mipha was curious to see how such creatures would be handled, given the Zoras’ natural weakness. She’d completed much training under Seggin already, but, admittedly, rarely had the opportunity to see such skills in action. Seggin agreed to her request, against his better judgement. Though between you and me, he was never one to miss the opportunity to show off his unusual resistance to electricity.’

Dento snorted. ‘Too right.’

Marot shot him a warning look.

‘And so Lady Mipha joined us to Ruto Mountain,’ Trello continued. ‘Purely for observational purposes, we’d presumed. Our team searched and searched but found no Chuchus, and Seggin, no doubt hoping not to leave on such a disappointing note for Lady Mipha’s sake, had us continue deeper across the mountain. What we found wasn’t Chuchus but a hail of arrows.’

Zelda straightened.

‘Lizalfos,’ said Trello. ‘They must have been waiting to ambush us, though we seemed to have taken them by surprise somewhat, for we had the chance at least to take cover amongst some trees.’ He shook his head. ‘Oh - the guilt we all felt for putting Lady Mipha in such danger! While we started to fret and point fingers, Lady Mipha put up her hand to quiet us. “The only thing we must worry about is getting out of this alive” she said. “My power will handle the rest”.’

He glanced to Zelda with a quick smile. ‘It didn’t come to that, thank the Goddess. But our team returned to the domain rather humbled. Though we’d known of Lady Mipha’s power, we had not appreciated the true nature of it or its wielder. As miraculous as such a gift was, for Lady Mipha to use it was to gaze into the face of pain, again and again. She couldn’t live the sheltered life everyone wanted for her, and she’d accepted this reality far earlier than anyone else had.’

Zelda blinked back at him, surprised again.

‘Lady Mipha always had a strong sense of conviction,’ Trello went on. ‘It’s some comfort to know that for all that we miss her, she would not have left the world with any regrets.’

Zelda looked down at this.

No regrets … the sinking feeling in her stomach told her she didn’t quite believe it … or perhaps she just didn’t want to. Surely she was not so childish … it had to be more than that.

Trello sighed with pride. ‘That was our Lady Mipha - incredibly dedicated, even from a young age. Always thinking of others. And that was certainly not the last of the times that she aided the Royal Guard. Many elders owe her their lives, or at least their limbs.’

Marot grimaced.

‘One might even say Lady Mipha didn’t need the Royal Guard,’ said Dento.

Trello sniffed in annoyance. ‘Fearless, our Lady Mipha was!’

The same Mipha, somehow, Zelda thought, who’d confessed to nerves so bad they’d made her sick. The ghost of a smile crossed her lips at the sudden memory.

‘A Zora of great dignity, too,’ Dento continued. ‘Ever serious, never forgetting the weight of her rank.’

Zelda almost smiled again despite herself. Mipha, she thought. Mipha, who dissolved into excited babbling whenever discussing Vah Ruta, who wasn’t afraid to tease her, who taught her to catch a frog. The Mipha of Trello’s memory almost seemed like someone else.

Zelda’s skin tingled as understanding crept over her: her Mipha was different because she’d chosen to show that side of herself to Zelda. It hadn’t mattered that Zelda hadn’t known her nearly as long as the Zoras.

Zelda shivered. Perhaps it was no wonder she hadn’t the will to prove herself right, she thought. Deep down, she’d never really needed the elders’ validation - she knew Mipha enough, she just needed to trust her heart … she had to trust the Mipha she knew …

‘… very studious. Thoughtful. The bravest of us all.’

Zelda smiled sadly down at her tea. There’d really been no end to Mipha’s marvels.

Dento’s eyes twinkled. ‘And head over heels for a Hylian, much to Trello’s endless vexation.’

Zelda looked up sharply. Trello spun around to Dento, hands on hips. He was quiet for a moment, glaring. Then both he and Dento laughed. ‘Do you blame me?’ said Trello.

‘No.’

‘That Hylian didn’t deserve her, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘His name is Link,’ said Marot. ‘I don’t know why you’re pretending to forget.’ She offered more tea to Zelda, but Zelda was gaping too heavily at Trello and Dento to notice. Trello gave Dento a conspiratorial smile and Zelda found herself leaning forward as well, her mouth open.

‘People like to say Lady Mipha would have wed that Hylian, but we know for a fact she never gave him that armour, so who can really say what would have happened?’

They chuckled. Zelda nearly dropped her tea. ‘Mipha - marry Link?’

Trello jumped, having managed to forget Zelda’s presence amidst his reminiscing. He bowed to her. ‘Forgive me, Princess Zelda. Just some harmless gossip.’

Zelda’s ears began to ring. She rose from her stool. ‘What were you saying just now - about the armour?’

Trello, embarrassed, glanced uneasily to Dento and then back to Zelda’s fraught gaze. ‘The armour is a Zoran custom,’ he said. ‘The members of Zora royalty craft a suit of armour for the one they intend to marry.’

‘And Mipha - you’re telling me she really made that?’

Trello and Dento both nodded. Zelda shook her head. The ringing in her ears grew louder. ‘But - but you were also saying she didn’t give him the armour. That is what you said, isn’t it?’

Trello saw this as the pathway out and quickly nodded. ‘That’s correct, Princess Zelda. King Dorephan had the armour in his possession until Link’s return.’

Zelda set her teacup aside in a daze. Marot stepped closer. ‘Are you alright, Princess Zelda?’

Zelda closed her eyes and rubbed her temple. ‘Of course.’

Chapter Text

Zelda’s footsteps fell heavily with each step she climbed up to East Reservoir Lake, her mind and body bearing a weariness that couldn’t be shed by the presence of the domain alone this time. But Mipha was near, and that itself saw Zelda’s heart grow lighter at least as she drew closer to the top of the stairs.

It hadn’t been the longest absence she’d endured, but even a few days apart from Mipha felt like punishment now. The letters weren’t enough. Her dreams and imaginings always felt hollow by the end. She needed to hear Mipha’s voice with her own ears, to feel the coolness of her touch. Her smile, too - oh what a smile awaited her. One look and every worry clinging to her back, hanging from her neck, weighing her down - they would all fade away under the radiance of that smile.

Curious, though, Zelda couldn’t help but notice, that no great crashes of waves or bellows echoing against the cliffs rang down the stairs to greet her. Instead, a reedy whistle of wind met Zelda as she emerged onto the walkway. Small, grey waves crossed the otherwise clear lake to press the empty pier. Zelda stopped to scan the outcrops surrounding the lake, but there was no sign of the Divine Beast or its pilot.

Zelda turned desperately to search along the remainder of the walkway, and her eyes fell on the profile of Mipha’s hunched frame sitting on the bed within her airy resting room. Zelda lit up merely by instinct, but then she paused, torn between relief and concern at the sight of Mipha’s tense posture. Mipha didn’t move, not seeming to have noticed her.

Zelda drew closer with small steps of trepidation and caught in her stare Mipha’s head bowed in thought, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. Zelda stopped at the threshold. Another reedy wind blew between her and Mipha. She went to speak, but before the words had even left her mouth, Mipha’s head lifted with a jolt. She looked about in alarm, and as her eyes landed on Zelda on the threshold, her face fell.

Zelda shrank back. Mipha was on her feet in an instant. ‘I’m sorry - I didn’t realise you were visiting.’

Zelda’s cheeks burned. She backed away further, even as Mipha approached. ‘I know - it was sudden - I’m sorry —’

‘Is everything alright?’ said Mipha, continuing her pursuit.

‘Yes, yes.’

Mipha gave a weary smile. ‘Thank goodness.’

The smile pinned Zelda in place as Mipha grew close, but just as Mipha looked as though she were about to pull Zelda into a hug, she stopped short. Her hands wound anxiously behind her back.

Mortified, but still aching to be near all the same, Zelda took a shy step closer instead, their feet now almost touching.

‘… And you, Mipha? Is everything alright?’

‘Oh - yes.’ She gestured back to the room. ‘I find it peaceful to come up here to think sometimes, that’s all. But I’ve done more than enough thinking for one day.’

Zelda went to apologise again, but Mipha had already linked her arm through Zelda’s, shooting Zelda a quick, sweet smile as she steered her back towards the stairs. It was as though the look to Zelda across the threshold had never existed, but it must have, for Zelda’s stomach still churned from the horror of it. Zelda’s feet started to drag. ‘Mipha …’

Mipha gave her arm a firm tug. ‘Let’s hurry,’ she said. ‘You must be hungry from your journey.’

Zelda’s brow furrowed. There was still a chance to ask - to make sure - that Mipha would tell her if something was truly wrong. But then, if she had to ask, perhaps that was answer enough.

Even with Mipha’s voice in her ear, arm wrapped around her own, Zelda began to feel heavier. She was a bad friend - a bad friend to the person she cared about most, no less. And she did not even have the heart to stop and make Mipha confess. It was no wonder she’d earned such a look of dismay. The letters were probably bad enough, let alone the frequent visits. Mipha had no doubt been relishing the chance to be alone, unbothered for that small time. Zelda blushed again at the thought of herself tramping so cluelessly up the stairs to the reservoir. She’d thought only of her own eagerness.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve become a nuisance, haven’t I? Don’t answer that. You don’t have to lie for my sake.’

Mipha looked up at her in surprise. ‘Well, it seems you’ve already decided it’s true. But if you’d like my opinion, I’d tell you that you haven’t. Nor would you ever. You know you’re always welcome here.’

She said it so simply that Zelda could only mutely accept it, warmed momentarily, but then left to ponder what else it could be that weighed on Mipha’s mind.

They stopped in the domain to eat. Fish stew was brought out - it was always fish, of course, and Zelda was pleased to have developed a taste for it, but her enthusiasm escaped her now. Zelda caught a furtive glance from Mipha as they ate, and no doubt she’d caught one of Zelda’s own.

‘How was your visit to the Spring of Power?’ said Mipha.

Zelda grimaced as she swallowed. ‘The same. I … I’ll tell you about it later.’

Mipha gave a small nod.

‘How are you and Vah Ruta?’ said Zelda.

‘They’re well. A little restless, perhaps.’

‘Restless?’

Mipha sighed. ‘It’s my fault. I’m afraid I’ve let myself become distracted, lately.’

Zelda’s heart sank as she looked down at her stew. Mipha was surely worried about the continued lack of progress Zelda had made. And probably in some way blamed herself for it - that she was not being helpful enough. Something had to be missing, after all. Something Zelda still lacked. Something more than prayer. And the longer Zelda’s failure drew out, the more alarming it was to accept that there was no contingency plan to rely on. The success of the mission always relied on that holy seal. There was still time, but certain signs couldn’t be ignored: the reports of monsters growing bolder with their disruptions, building forts, even attacking outskirt villages; the Yiga Clan, too, only seemed to be getting stronger; then there were the tremors - earthquakes previously unknown to Hyrule, and growing more frequent.

Zelda’s stomach churned. She set aside her bowl.

They took to walking, and Zelda filled Mipha in on the goings on of the castle, of Link and Impa, and what covertly obtained information she’d gathered from the research team. They were about to broach the Spring of Power again when Sidon squirmed his way between Zelda and Mipha and grasped both their hands. Zelda couldn’t help but giggle as Sidon flashed a grin up at them. Mipha’s smile dampened the longer she looked at him, her hand tight around Sidon’s. And then she was bright again, hoisting Sidon up into a hop through the air.

Of course, Zelda thought. It wasn’t just the lack of progress Mipha was worried about. It was more than that. She had her family’s welfare to think of. Sidon’s future. It hadn’t occurred to Zelda to worry for her own father in such a way. She couldn’t imagine reaching out to him, or her father even accepting such a gesture of concern. But she’d been present that day King Dorephan had Mipha promise to return safely from her duties as Champion. A way to place order on the unknown, as though it could be reasoned with. No doubt it made him feel more at peace with Mipha’s decision. And no doubt that worry weighed on Mipha as well.

Zelda chewed her lip. ‘I believe Link will be visiting the domain soon,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ Mipha said quietly.

‘I’m sure you and Sidon will have a wonderful time with him.’

Mipha’s mouth became a thin line.

Her attempt to cheer Mipha thwarted, Zelda’s brow furrowed again. It remained furrowed as she bobbed in the waters below the domain, trailing after Mipha and Sidon. Eventually she clambered onto the rock shelves to rest and clap politely as Sidon made a show of flips and tricks for her. Mipha joined her on the rock shelf. They let Sidon continue his show a little longer, and then Mipha gently sent him away to practice his waterfall climbs.

‘By himself?’ Zelda murmured.

Mipha watched Sidon with a smile. ‘I like him to see what he can accomplish without me,’ she said. ‘No matter what happens to us all, I won’t always be here to hold his hand.’

Zelda drew her legs up to rest her chin on her arms.

“No matter what happens to us all” … it had to be playing on Mipha’s mind, Zelda realised, that success didn’t depend on no-one dying. It only relied on one thing: Ganon being sealed once more. If Mipha died, if she had to leave her brother, it was a possibility she had accepted.

Zelda let out a troubled sigh. If she could only awaken her power, she’d be able to spare Mipha these worries. Instead she was only contributing to them, adding to their weight with each new day of her failure.

A splash jolted Zelda from her thoughts. Mipha’s head emerged from the water at Zelda’s feet, and she squeezed Zelda’s big toe. Zelda smiled half-heartedly at her. Mipha took Zelda’s hand and led her back into the water, bringing her to a shallow section of water along the rocks. Sunlight dotted the shelf, inviting them to drift idly along the warmed surface. Mipha rolled onto her back and encouraged Zelda to do the same. ‘It’s very relaxing,’ she said. ‘Nothing clears the mind quite like water. Give it a try.’

Zelda gave a grim laugh instead. ‘I can’t remember the last time I relaxed.’

Mipha stopped kicking, letting herself drift as she contemplated this. ‘There must have been a time … perhaps before your destiny became apparent.’

Zelda rolled dubiously onto her back, doing her best to imitate the way Mipha’s face and chest crested the water, her legs left to dangle. She closed her eyes.

Before her destiny became apparent … before the death of her mother, then. There were still glimmers of those times, though where she once recalled her mother’s every expression, the way she moved and spoke, was now but a child’s drawing: long hair, a smile. Still and silent.

The gentle lap of water tickled Zelda’s ears. She let out a low breath, relishing the soft melody echoing down from the domain. A bird chirped nearby. The domain suddenly dissolved along with its cool blues and shadows. There was sun now, and bright green leaves hanging overhead. Cold river water coursed gently past Zelda’s small legs as she splashed through the shallows. There was a flurry of chirps nearby, and her mother, book now cast aside, hurriedly gestured to Zelda. Zelda sank down upon the picnic blanket beside her, and quickly found herself held close and warm as her mother pointed her to look to a family of sparrows bickering in the nearby tree. Their round little bodies bobbed from branch to branch, and Zelda gasped with delight. A sudden gust of wind blew the sparrows from the tree, leaving their tiny bodies to flutter mid-air in astonishment. Zelda and her mother laughed and laughed.

Zelda blinked, surprised. Goosebumps rushed up her arms. She drifted quietly as she ran back over the memory.

It was reassuring to know such memories still lived within her. She hadn’t tried to look. Her father had been very serious when he’d looked in her eyes after her mother’s death and said that as royalty there was only ever one path forward: to be faithful to one’s duties above all.

In fairness, such a philosophy had been somewhat of a mercy: focussing on the one overwhelming problem had been enough. If the grim nights she spent worrying about her duties had been shared with thoughts of her mother, Zelda was certain she would have never known sleep.

Zelda sighed. How different things would be if her mother were still here. How much easier they’d be. “You can do anything” her mother had once said, and knowing she would guide her, just as her mother’s mother had guided her, Zelda had believed her. She couldn’t wait to make her proud - to prove that matter-of-fact belief in her right.

People didn’t so much believe in her now as they did hope. “Please succeed” was the message behind every well-wish. “Please don’t let us down”. Mipha, though, had made plans with her for after the Calamity. Firm plans. Something so simple, yet so reassuring. If she could only awaken her power, Zelda thought, she could show Mipha that she’d been right to trust her. She could show herself that she’d been worthy of that faith.

Zelda furrowed her brow.

There had to be a way, she realised. If she was going to help Mipha, and she would - she must, then she had no choice but to trust that she would succeed. Though every fibre of her being resisted it, she was going to have to believe in herself.

Zelda thrust her legs downward, planting her feet onto the smooth rock below. Mipha drifted nearby, her eyes half closed, lost in thought. Zelda waded towards her. ‘Mipha.’

Mipha didn’t respond.

Zelda grew close. ‘Mipha?’

Mipha simply drifted, as though so relaxed she’d fallen asleep. Zelda considered her for a moment and whether to leave her be. No doubt Mipha had returned to whatever thoughts had captured her at the reservoir, before Zelda had so rudely interrupted. Thoughts that had troubled her to the point of hiding them, just as Zelda had done before. But Zelda had also crumbled in the face of Mipha’s concern. Were they not supposed to share their trials and face them together?

Zelda reached out and squeezed Mipha’s toe, mimicking Mipha’s earlier gesture with a smile. Mipha kicked instinctively, sending a spray over Zelda.

‘Ah - my apologies!’ Mipha cried, struggling to her feet.

Zelda swept the water from her face with a chuckle. ‘You were very far away.’

Mipha dropped her gaze. Zelda sensed her withdrawing once more.

‘Please,’ said Zelda, all trace of humour disappearing from her voice. ‘You carry my burdens, and I should bear yours.’ She blushed, as did Mipha. ‘I … I know I haven’t much experience at helping people with their problems,’ she went on. ‘But if there’s anything I can do for you, please know I’d do it in a heartbeat.’

A faint, sad smile crossed Mipha’s lips. ‘You don’t need to do anything for me, Zelda.’

Zelda’s hands clenched at her sides. ‘I want to.’

Mipha squirmed, struggling to find words. She finally sighed. ‘I’m sorry. It’s not something that you can help me with.’

Zelda’s stomach dropped. Her cheeks grew redder, and her voice became small. ‘Can’t I try?’

Mipha’s mouth twisted. ‘No, you see - the problem, it’s just that …’ She laughed helplessly. ‘The problem is that I feel as though I don’t know myself anymore.’

Zelda’s mouth opened and closed. Eager as she was to form a quick solution to this problem, her mind drew blank. They both looked away. Zelda’s hands unclenched. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

Mipha looked up. She looked at Zelda a long while, her expression softening. ‘Ask me that the next time you visit,’ she said.

Zelda met her eye and smiled curiously, and also with relief. Then her smile became faint.

It had been her biggest battle yet convincing her father to let her visit Zora’s Domain again. Important Champion affairs, she’d pleaded. Integral Champion affairs. There would not be a next time, not after he learned of her failure at the Spring of Power. But, it wouldn’t do to give up hope, not when Mipha’s happiness was at stake. Not when she could be the one to come to Mipha’s aid for once. She could finally show Mipha the kind of devotion that words in letters never managed to capture.

Zelda’s smile grew warm, and she nodded. ‘I’ll do that.’

Upon returning to her guest room, Zelda had dropped atop her bed and remained there as the hours of the day passed. She just needed to lay as still and unthinkingly as possible until morning. Then, once the main ceremony of the festival was complete, she’d be out along Great Zora Bridge faster than a Hot-Footed Frog. That was the only thought Zelda could hold in herself without her pulse starting to ring in her ears.

Night eventually filled the room with shadows, the music in the domain fading until the sound of rushing water seeped in under the door and through the walls, filling the guest room with whispers.

Zelda squeezed her eyes shut. There was no chance that sleep would claim her. Instead, her defences gradually lowered, letting in slips of the elder Zoras’ words. Though she tried to suppress their voices, Zelda’s cheeks warmed all the same. A lump rose in her throat. She silently cursed herself and fought back the sob.

How faithful she’d managed to be to her duties thus far. No indulging in crying like the time before the Calamity. She could indulge herself when Hyrule had been restored. She was not going to break her commitment to Hyrule’s fallen. Not now, not for this. So she’d been a fool. Deep down, hadn’t she always known that about herself? Known that what she had with Mipha was too good to be true? What she thought she’d had …

It was almost like losing Mipha all over again.

Zelda’s throat ached. She gritted her teeth, clawing her hands into her thighs, her arms, but the ache didn’t subside.

Zelda struggled from the bed and pulled on her cloak. She opened the door to the dark corridor beyond, and the rush of water swept louder past her into the guest room. Paya stood guard two steps in front of her. She turned silently and met Zelda’s eye. They looked at each other, Paya bewildered, Zelda helpless. Paya’s mouth opened to speak, and Zelda dropped her gaze. Paya considered her for a moment and then wordlessly stepped aside from the doorway, allowing Zelda to slip past her and down the corridor.

In the absence of music and Zoras to fill its empty spaces, the domain at night took on the air of an abandoned temple, occupied only by Zelda’s intrusion and the occasional whisper of Paya’s footsteps trailing in the distance. No moon hung above them, only stars, the darkness behind them a thick black that seemed to press close, sinking into every crevice of the domain and causing the globes of Luminous Stone Zelda passed to glow even brighter. The ache in Zelda’s throat subsided, but knowing it patiently awaited her once she was back alone in the guest room, she couldn’t bring herself to return to her bed. Instead she walked aimlessly, welcoming the sombre air of the domain into herself.

Starting onto the same walkway she’d traced earlier that day with Sidon, Zelda made it part way and then fell to a stop. Sidon stood on the lower plaza below, gazing at the statue of Mipha. Zelda froze in surprise. Sidon was very still, his hands limp at his sides as he stared up at Mipha’s smile. Zelda’s skin prickled as she watched him. She’d intruded upon something - something no one else was meant to see. The kind of thing she might have done herself and would have been kept awake agonising about had anyone seen her in such a state. Yet Zelda didn’t move. She watched on, waiting in hope, it felt, for the absence of Sidon’s people to tempt him into some sort of cathartic release. But Sidon simply stood there, locked away in his thoughts. Zelda felt a sudden surge of affinity.

We should be friends, she thought. Perhaps they would have been, if she’d let him. Sidon had hidden himself too well. Or more truthfully, she had misread him entirely. Just as she’d misread Mipha.

Zelda shrank back along the walkway.

How in the world had she deluded herself so badly? What had started it? There must have been a time in between meeting Mipha and the time she’d nearly combusted trying to catch a frog that her feelings had been relatively neutral, but it was difficult to believe that now.

Zelda glanced back at the lower plaza.

It had been there. Something had changed the night of the choir. She and Mipha had sat so close to each other amongst the crowd of Zoras that their thighs had touched. The choir sung in an old Zoran tongue, their harmonies at once warm, remote, and unmistakably holy. Zelda’s eyes had grown wet, and her skin tingled as though pricked by a shock arrow. She’d glanced to Mipha and saw her eyes shone as well, and her hand had lifted slightly, aching to take hold of Mipha’s. But more than that her heart was begging her to lean in and kiss the corner of Mipha’s mouth, to bury her face in the crook of Mipha’s neck and just hold her. It had been a true credit to the choir that she’d recalled it at all after such a distraction.

Zelda’s skin tingled again at the memory.

It had all gone downhill from there, she realised. No gesture had been too small to stow away and recall over and over again on long nights. How many times had she revisited that afternoon in the shallows behind the throne room, where Mipha had sat her down to braid her hair? Zora children surrounding them, some playing, most sitting in polite silence to watch Mipha’s careful work. Zelda hadn’t dared move, nor dared to offer anything but murmurs of encouragement as Mipha fussed. And Mipha had fussed quite a bit, undoing her work and starting over again and again to create a fishtail braid she could deem satisfactory. With so many eyes on them, what felt unspoken between her and Mipha was heard by Zelda in each gentle pull of her hair and quiet compliment from Mipha. Zelda had worn that braid for weeks after that visit, until her father’s complaints about its increasing unruliness finally wore her down. She’d thought about the pulls and compliments for much longer.

Zelda found herself crossing the upper level, drifting towards a familiar pavilion along the bridge. Somewhere along that length she and Mipha had struggled out their first conversation. Under that pavilion Mipha had hugged her - twice, even.

Zelda paused under the pavilion and looked out along the bridge.

It had been somewhere along there, on one of their walks up to see Vah Ruta, that she’d taken hold of Mipha’s hand without thinking. It had been doomed to happen eventually. Perhaps she’d only held it for a moment, perhaps it was longer. What she’d treasured was the fact that Mipha hadn’t pulled away. It was herself who’d yanked her hand back when she’d realised what she’d done, startled by her unthinking forwardness.

Zelda’s cheeks warmed again.

Mipha had been smiling in that small, fraught moment as Zelda looked from their joined hands up to Mipha’s face. Perhaps it wasn’t merely her own panic that had ripped her hand away, but the surprise that Mipha had wanted to hold her hand as well.

Zelda’s skin tingled unpleasantly now. She let out a low laugh.

Those were the times she thought had echoed through shadows unfathomably vast to call Mipha back: braiding hair, holding hands, sitting together. It was no wonder the Zoras hadn’t thought the bond between her and Mipha was special. They’d been right all along.

After all, she could count the number of times she’d visited Mipha on both hands. Mipha had never seen the inside of her home. She’d never spoken with her father, or seen the portrait of her mother. They didn’t know each other’s favourite things, or their true dislikes. They’d hardly even disagreed with each other. And she hadn’t known Mipha was in love.

Zelda’s face contorted. She moved stiffly to the edge of the pavilion and gripped the railing tightly. The water below was inky black, the tiny shine of bubbles along its surface like distant stars reflected from the sky. A waterbird called forlornly from across the bridge. Zelda’s head sank onto her arms.

Mipha had been kind to her in a way no one else had, attentive like no one else, understanding her better than Zelda knew herself. She must have known Zelda’s feelings on some level, even if she hadn’t felt the same way. What was Mipha supposed to have done, Zelda mused. Turn Zelda down in the gentlest way possible and yet still risk Zelda plunging deeper into despair? No, Mipha had wanted to help her awaken her powers so badly it had been a mission in of itself. How could she turn Zelda away? She needed to become the White Scale Zelda needed in whatever way she could. Even if that meant forsaking her own plans for the future, it would seem.

Zelda grimaced as she thought of the engagement armour, not given, but nevertheless crafted with intent. It was for the best, really, if Mipha’s feelings had been in her head all along. If it were true, then that surely meant that the vision of Mipha in her guest room had been in her head as well. Mipha rested peacefully, as she deserved.

Zelda’s chest grew heavy. She closed her eyes.

Perhaps Mipha had only thought of her as a friend. Less, perhaps. That changed some things. It had to. But she couldn’t change her own heart. And her heart lived in the time before the Calamity. It still wanted to bring Mipha home to the castle. She was going to bring Mipha to her study and let her pour over all the research notes she’d collated. There’d be fruitcake for her to try. And a tour of the library. Then at night, in Zelda’s bedroom, they’d curl up within the dim light of her fireplace and Zelda would confess to Mipha about the Calamity. Mipha needed to know that it was her - her words, her kindness, her sheer conviction in Zelda that pulled her through. After that … well, the point where she made her feelings plain was always a little vague in her imaginings. Perhaps Mipha would have understood what Zelda meant. She might have smiled, and taken Zelda’s hand, and answered with a long-awaited kiss. They could have divided their time between Hyrule Castle and Zora’s Domain. There was still plenty of research to be done with the ancient Sheikah technology. Expeditions to be made together, free from the heavy worry that plagued the old Champion journeys. They’d be able to laugh this time. They’d be able to talk all night until the stars faded and the dawn broke. Her heart couldn’t live in a world where that dream must die.

Zelda bit the inside of her cheek, fighting back the returning burn in her throat. ‘Fool,’ she hissed. ‘Fool, fool, fool.’ Her head and chest ached, urging for release. Zelda gasped at the pain.

Running footsteps thudded towards the pavilion. Zelda cracked open her eyes to find an aquamarine light gleaming along the rail. Zelda’s mouth opened, but before she could so much as straighten, Mipha’s arms drew around her shoulders, bringing a great flood of warmth as she held Zelda close. The faint pressure of her face pressed against Zelda’s head.

Zelda - surprised, confused, relieved - sighed, sinking limp onto her arms in a daze. Another sob burned in her throat and then faded, her chest growing light and her heart growing calm. There the two of them were again, back before the Calamity - “I’m so glad I could be helpful to you” Mipha had said. As though she needed to repay Zelda. As though Mipha simply being with her, no matter how mundane the activity, hadn’t soothed Zelda’s very soul.

Zelda shivered. To be held now wasn’t enough - she needed to return it - she needed to give Mipha the biggest hug she could possibly give. She wanted to look at Mipha properly. She wanted to tell her how sorry she was, how grateful - how much she’d meant to her. How much she still did.

Mipha’s arms around Zelda began to retreat. Zelda turned, catching Mipha’s gently smiling face in her own. Their eyes locked together as Mipha pulled away. Zelda grasped for her hand and passed through it. A jolt of panic cut through her. ‘Wait!’

Mipha’s features were already beginning to blur. Zelda reached for her again, knowing she had just as much chance of keeping her there as she’d had in her dream, but trying all the same. ‘What do you need? What must I do? Mipha —’

‘Princess Zelda!’

Paya staggered onto the pavilion. Neither Mipha’s nor Zelda’s eyes moved from each other, and Zelda could only watch on as Mipha brightened in a surge of light. Then as suddenly as she’d appeared, Mipha was gone.

Zelda stood frozen. Her heart pounded, yet slowly eased as the warmth of Mipha’s touch lingered on her like a balm. She brought her arms up to hug herself, clinging to that feeling for as long as she could.

Paya’s face was a mask of shock. ‘That was … Lady Mipha?’ She blinked rapidly, trying to catch her breath amidst her confusion. She took a tentative step closer to Zelda. ‘Princess - are you alright?’

Zelda looked slowly to Paya. ‘You saw her?’ she breathed, though the answer was plain enough. There could be no doubting it, then: Mipha’s appearances weren’t in her head. Mipha had come back for her. She watched over her, helping, still. Don’t be sad, she seemed to be saying. Don’t despair, I’m still here … I still care.

Zelda’s arms tightened around herself. Having despaired over what had felt like certainty regarding Mipha’s feelings, she now felt at a loss as she considered the fact that something drove Mipha to do this. If it were to be called more than just an absurdly strong sense of duty, one would have to say it was a drive different to obligation. It had to mean that this was Mipha’s choice. She wanted to reach out to her. Perhaps for the same reason that she never gave Link that armour. Perhaps that fact was starting to make a little more sense. Zelda shivered again.

What now? Twice Mipha had now reached out, and shown the limits of such visits. There had to be a way to reach back. Even without the Lightscale Trident, there had to be something. Someone had to know what to do.

Paya took another tentative step closer. ‘Princess Zelda?’

Zelda’s arms lowered. ‘I’m alright.’

A faint smile crossed her lips. She looked to Paya, her smile widening. Paya stared back at her, even more confounded. Zelda chuckled. Her head swam as she grabbed Paya by both arms and pulled her into a hug. Paya smiled as well, her confusion only growing. Zelda closed her eyes. The reality of her opportunity was slowly sinking in as another chuckle escaped her: Mipha wanted to reach her. One hundred years had passed and it didn’t matter - their feelings remained. To think she’d had the nerve to doubt her. ‘I’m such a fool,’ she laughed.

An overwhelming giddiness was taking hold of her, almost making her nauseous with its intensity. A frown slowly formed on Paya’s brow as Zelda clutched her tighter.

Zelda let Paya go, and their gaze turned to the place where Mipha had vanished. Paya tried to find her voice as she looked shyly back at Zelda. ‘Should we alert someone?’

Zelda stared at the empty space, her smile faltering somewhat. Already a part of her yearned to step into that space, just to be that smallest bit closer to Mipha; the thought of wasting any more time to find a proper way to reach her was unbearable. Drawing Sidon or King Dorephan’s attention to the matter would only be a needless distraction for all. But she needed someone - someone more knowledgeable than her in the matters of life and death.

Zelda’s smile fought to return, and won. ‘No, Paya, not yet. I’ll send you and Cado for someone in the morning.’

Paya only had to knock once on the guest room door. Zelda emerged and followed her, buoyant music echoing around them along the empty corridor, and the buzz of crowded voices outside growing louder with every step.

Zelda’s sleepless eyes squinted against the morning sun as she and Paya entered the domain’s upper level. The same song from the morning of her arrival played triumphantly around her, soaring over laughter and the squeals of playing children. Many Zoras had gathered along the upper level to crowd the railings, some glinting with extra jewellery or otherwise adorned with red and blue cloth. Paya and Zelda wove their way between elbows and down the stairs.

Horns rang out as they reached the plaza, heralding the arrival of a new guest. The chatter of the crowds along the plaza and upper level grew quiet as eyes turned towards Great Zora bridge; Queen Riju, perhaps, or an ambassador for the Gorons, or the Rito. Paya paused to look as well, and Zelda brushed past her without a thought, jolting Paya back into action. They picked their way through the Zoras moving closer to the bridge and in through to the chamber where the domain’s communal pools lay.

There, tucked away from the crowds, where the smell of roasting fish and cooking spices had gathered in the air, Cado stood waiting with an elder Zora. The Zora, decorated by an elaborate mantle hanging from her shoulders, went to bow as Zelda approached. Zelda waved her hands to dissuade her. ‘You must be the priestess,’ said Zelda. ‘Thank you very much for meeting with me on such short notice. I understand you must have duties to be attending to, so I’ll be brief.’

Zelda paused, wetting her lips. She clenched her hands to steel herself. ‘I’ve come to speak with you about Lady Mipha’s spirit,’ she said. ‘Since my arrival, she has visited me twice. You understand my urgency, I’m sure.’

The priestess’s mouth fell open as she took this in. ‘Oh my,’ she said quietly. ‘This is troubling indeed.’

Zelda paused, thrown by the priestess’s dismay. The priestess stepped closer. ‘May I ask, Princess - Lady Mipha’s spirit - what did she say? Was she distressed?’

Mipha’s smile flashed before Zelda again. ‘No,’ Zelda said firmly. ‘Mipha didn’t speak, but she was not distressed. Quite the opposite, in fact.’

The priestess relaxed at this, though her hand rose to her chin in thought. ‘And yet, Lady Mipha doesn’t remain at rest …’

Zelda’s gaze dropped.

The priestess finally clasped her hands together. ‘Worry not, Princess Zelda,’ she said, her voice low and soothing. ‘I’m certain today’s festival will appease Lady Mipha’s spirit once again when she sees what a joyous occasion we’ve created.’

Zelda bit her lip. She glanced self-consciously towards Paya and Cado and then stepped even closer to the priestess, lowering her voice. ‘Actually, I was hoping you might help me reach out to her.’

The priestess stared at Zelda. Zelda stared back at her, waiting, her brow furrowing with desperate impatience the longer the priestess looked wordlessly back at her. Red quickly coloured the priestess’s cheeks, and she looked away.

Zelda froze in alarm. ‘I intend no disrespect,’ she said. ‘Only that … without the Lightscale Trident, Mipha won’t be able to speak with me. I thought that perhaps you might know of other means to, well, let me reach her.’

‘I’m afraid I cannot help you with that.’

Zelda frowned. She didn’t even try to disguise it. The priestess bowed regretfully.

‘It’s simply that to initiate contact with the departed - that is … well … such methods are beyond my means, Princess Zelda. I’m a priestess. What you are asking for is sorcery.’

Zelda sucked in a breath. She stared at the priestess again, too flustered to speak, and the priestess shifted uncomfortably under her agitated gaze. Zelda clenched her hands again, trying to steel herself once more. But her hands fell limp this time. Her voice grew even quieter. ‘You’re certain there are no methods that you know of?’

The priestess bowed again to Zelda. ‘My apologies, Princess Zelda.’

Zelda acknowledged this with a small nod and the priestess excused herself, leaving Zelda to stare hard at the ground.

“Sorcery”. Such a term made her need sound unseemly. But there was nothing indecent about it - she was answering a call. A call that would finally give herself the chance to undo her and Mipha’s unjust final parting.

Zelda closed her eyes. That hug at the base of Mount Lanayru hadn’t felt like goodbye. No proper goodbye would let her stand so foolishly limp and panic-struck, oblivious to the tender words Mipha spoke in her ear. But nothing between them had to remain unheard anymore, or unspoken. She just needed another way. Something. Anything.

Zelda stood there, wordless, and the crowd on the plaza grew loud with excitement.

Paya and Cado’s eyes pressed on Zelda. She was forcing them to the limits of their curiosity, verging it onto concern. This Zelda knew, but it didn’t stop the new question forming on her tongue. It took a moment to steel herself, to resign herself to the question’s implication, but only a moment. She breathed in sharply and met Cado’s eye. ‘If reaching Mipha’s spirit requires sorcery, could the Sheikah help me with that?’

Paya looked nervously to Cado. Cado blushed, taken aback. He glanced between Paya and Zelda and quickly faltered under Zelda’s visible impatience.

‘I’ve heard of such practices,’ he said. ‘Old ways, such as they are. But the specifics - they were not passed down to us. It … is the kind of knowledge that the Sheikah left behind.’

Zelda’s eyes squeezed shut in defeat. She turned on Cado, blood roaring in her ears, and bit hard into her lip.

Paya stepped between them. ‘But! If there’s anyone who’d still know about the old ways, Princess Zelda, it’ll surely be Grandmother!’

Zelda’s eyes opened. She met Paya’s eye with a wordless intensity that saw Paya look nervously back to Cado.

‘Right, Cado?’

Cado glanced hesitantly at Zelda. He gave a small nod to confirm this.

Zelda’s chest rose and fell quickly. Her hands clenched, but there was no need to steel herself this time; her decision had been made long before the choice was ever given.

‘Gather our things,’ said Zelda. ‘We’re leaving for Kakariko Village.’

Chapter Text

As Zelda found her way back from the Lost Woods, it was the faint tremor in the earth beneath her that alerted she’d lost the wood’s protection. Impa stood just as she’d left her by the entrance, her face warming with relief at the sight of Zelda and her empty hands. The Master Sword now secure under the eye of the Great Deku Tree, there was only one task remaining, and Zelda began by hurrying back south through the trees of Minshi Woods. Impa’s relief quickly vanished as she kept to Zelda’s side, her eyes darting from Zelda to between the silent trees and back.

‘Zelda, the Shrine of Resurrection … we still don’t know how long …’

‘I know.’

‘But …’

Shadow darkened the forest, and as Impa’s voice trailed off, Zelda looked up to see smoke above the trees. She quickened her pace.

Their horse remained where they’d left it, hidden just before a clearing. Beyond the trees, the spires of Hyrule Castle could be seen surrounded by whorls of smoke. Zelda’s hand curled into a fist as she turned her back on the castle to face Impa. ‘I must go my own way now.’

Impa gave a reluctant nod.

‘Don’t forget,’ Zelda went on. ‘Link, he must know that —’

‘I’ll tell him. Don’t worry.’

Zelda took Impa’s hand. ‘Thank you.’

Impa acknowledged this with another reluctant nod, her thumb grazing Zelda’s fingers. Zelda clasped her other hand on top of Impa’s. ‘Thank you for everything, Impa. Truly.’

Impa’s brow crumpled. She clutched Zelda’s arm and pulled her into a hug. Her heart beat fast against Zelda’s chest. ‘At least let me come with you part of the way,’ she gasped.

Zelda softened. She pressed her hand to the back of Impa’s head. ‘You mustn’t delay,’ she said, quiet but firm. ‘The Champions will need whatever help you can give them once they’ve escaped.’

Impa nodded into Zelda’s shoulder, but she didn’t let go. Zelda smiled sadly. Impa, her first true friend - how fortunate that fate had gifted her such a brave and brilliant companion for such a terrible journey, she thought. To see her now so unsure, it was a sight so new that it was almost unnerving. But there was nothing more Impa could do for her - only risk her life, and no one would be doing that for her ever again.

She hugged Impa close. ‘May the Goddess smile upon you, Impa.’

Impa took in Zelda’s sad smile as she released her, and she gave a weak chuckle. ‘I see that she already does.’

Impa climbed into the horse’s saddle at last, and looking down on Zelda’s wordless surprise, tried to smile in return. ‘See you soon, Zelda.’

They nodded to each other.

Impa took off west along the road. Zelda watched her a moment, and then her eyes drew up and lingered on the Zobodon Highlands, where Vah Ruta had been struck.

Keep going, said a voice in Zelda’s head. Zelda snapped back to her senses.

Turning east along the road, Zelda found a wall of smoke and flames from Rauru Settlement awaited her. She clutched a panel of her dress to her face as she drew close, her mouth filling with the taste of smoke regardless. The blackened skeletons of homes sitting closest to the road were no longer burning, but the heat emanating from them still burned like an echo of the flames that had eaten through them, biting deep into Zelda’s bare arms as she passed.

By some miracle, Helmhead Bridge still stood despite its proximity to the red and black column that had erupted from the ground nearby. Zelda crossed, entering the protective woodland of Hyrule Castle Park, and cast a fleeting look to the column as she passed. Its pox-like spots glowed back at her above the trees, daring her to recall the hours she’d spent trawling the passages beneath the castle in search of it and its siblings, and of the Guardians hidden within them. No Guardians lingered around the column now. No doubt they’d been deployed quickly to the more vulnerable areas of the region.

Zelda’s footsteps echoed along the broken path of the park, until the path was no longer there, only shattered bricks and scorched earth. Blackened trees framed a smashed fountain ahead, the same fountain she’d once dipped her hands into as a child searching for elusive fairies. As Zelda forced herself to look past it, the sound of thudding hooves met her ears.

Deer charged towards Zelda through the trees. Zelda froze in place, the leading buck thundering past her and the frantic herd following with just enough sense to dodge Zelda’s small frame as she held her breath. In a moment the deer were gone, their hoofbeats fading until the park fell suspiciously quiet around Zelda.

Zelda let out a low breath. She narrowed her eyes at the trees in the frightened deers’ wake and made her way closer, awaiting the sound of clanking feet and a glimpse of furious red light amongst the green. But a low growl met Zelda instead from the lower bushes. Zelda tensed.

The bushes shook, then ripped. A wolf, all blurry singed fur and bared teeth, leaped through the leaves. Zelda dodged by mere inches as it thudded onto the path before her. She staggered back, seeing the terror clouded in the wolf’s eyes, but also the frightening speed in which the wolf righted itself. Those eyes quickly found her again, and a deep growl rumbled in the wolf’s throat.

Zelda staggered back again. She threw up her hand by sheer instinct. But there was no corruption to be subdued, only a creature mad with fear. The wolf lunged for her and Zelda dodged again, barely scraping past the wolf’s jaw as it flew by.

Her eyes widened with a fear of her own: the training, the sacrifices, the new-found success - undone, now, like this.

Zelda hitched up her dress with a gasp, the first stab of uncertainty she’d felt since her power awakened now seeping panic through her like a poison. She broke into a run along the shattered path. Ragged breath and an uneven gait pursued, loud in her ears.

The road beyond the park was just as quiet as the one she’d entered on, though flecks of magenta spotted the air, burning Zelda’s throat and chest with something more than smoke as she hurried from the trees onto grass. The flecks only grew thicker as she neared the wall of Hyrule Castle Town, but Zelda couldn’t heed them: something had blasted clean through the bricks, cleaving a wide, clean hole from top to bottom through the wall. It was an arresting sight but also a welcome one, for beyond the hole she could reach Hyrule Cathedral, whose thick oak doors could deter more than wolves.

As Zelda staggered through the hole, however, the pointed silhouette of the cathedral was nowhere to be seen. Only trampled buildings lay before her.

Zelda slowed, gasping for breath.

In the time since she and Link had been forced to flee, a terrible stillness had fallen over the town. Smoke still flew thick through the air. The ground trembled in fits and bursts. But there were no more screams, and no more cries for help. There seemed to be no one at all.

A stone path led along the inside of the wall. Zelda hurried unsteadily along it, clutching her aching chest.

The path brought her beyond the trampled buildings to a set of small steps behind the cathedral. But the oak doors were gone. There were no walls left to support them, no roof to contain the hum of prayers. Sections of the cathedral’s foundation were still intact, but what hadn’t been clawed away to gouge the earth itself lay half buried under the cathedral’s rubble.

The cathedral had been more than trampled, Zelda realised. It had faced a deliberate, calculated obliteration.

Zelda swayed. She looked over her shoulder and found that by some mercy the wolf had not followed her through the wall, it perhaps having sensed, or known, the greater danger that lied beyond it. It allowed her a moment, at least, to sink upon the steps and rub the sweat from her eyes. She tried to catch her breath, trying, as well, to ignore the fact that her harsh gasps were the only sign of life amongst the stillness around her. As her breath grew calmer, Zelda’s eyes drifted to the cool stone beneath her.

She’d walked upon those steps only once before in her life, as she and her father had left her mother’s funeral. She could still recall the quietness of the shaded descent onto the stone path, and of staring mutely at the moss-covered wall in front of her, unsure of where to go next. Her father had smiled at her, a strange, proud smile the likes of which she’d not seen since. No doubt he’d simply been pleased with her mute resignation to their new reality, to “be faithful to one’s duties above all”, but his gesture had not been comforting. The whole day had had the uncanniness of a dream.

A similar feeling settled over Zelda as she rubbed her chest, staring at the mossy wall. The ache in her chest was subsiding with surprising speed, and Zelda looked down to see a pale glow remained where her hand had rubbed. Zelda froze. Was healing another of her powers? That would make an awful lot of difference.

But the ache, she realised, remained, only lessened by her power. What was gone was the burn of the magenta flecks. Zelda looked at her hand in wonder, returning for a moment to the curious scholar she once was. To think the power had been in her all along. She almost couldn’t believe it, even now. Her father, for all his faults, had believed it. He must have believed it even to the end.

Zelda lowered her eyes.

What would he have said if he could see her now, she wondered. “Hurry, you fool”, most likely. And he’d have been right. Every moment she spent catching her breath was a moment lost for the Champions trapped in the Divine Beasts. If she could keep Ganon at bay, long enough to shake that terrible grip, then perhaps that would be enough for the Champions to find their way out. If they could. There was no telling what had befallen them all once their control over the Divine Beasts was lost. The only thing certain for Zelda now was that she carried the hope of Hyrule in her hands.

With that thought pressing on her, Zelda picked herself up and looked back over what remained of the once-holy space. For all its destruction, with the light that now brimmed within her, she felt closer to the Goddess than she’d ever been in her life. And yet to pray one more time, at least for the Champions' sake, would undoubtedly be comforting. But how did one turn to themselves in times of need, she wondered, if they were already the answer?

Keep going, said the voice in her head.

Zelda crossed over the remnants of the cathedral. The castle loomed close from across the moat, but the only means to reach it was directly through the centre of Hyrule Castle Town. An impromptu path, cleaved by what could only be Guardians, led Zelda through the surrounding buildings and deeper into the township. The tremors from the ground grew more frequent at this approach, as though her small, determined footsteps formed an itch on the force that had seized it. Whirring machinery whined loud in Zelda’s ears as though in response. She blinked as a red beam of light found her face.

The Guardian was on a roof. The weight of it buckled the burning slats beneath its feet, but even as the roof groaned and splintered, the Guardian didn’t drop its aim.

Did Ganon see me through that eye, Zelda wondered.

She raised her hand, palm open, and the swell of ancestral light surged through her like a sunbeam passing the windowpane of her soul and out.

The Guardian shuddered. Its angry red body dimmed and then dropped against the roof. The roof cracked and broke, swallowing the guardian into the flames below.

Zelda staggered onwards, rounding the corner of the house, and almost tripped on a Hylian body. More bodies lay strewn in the street, their clothes bearing the scorch mark of Guardian beams. Zelda forced herself to look past them as another Guardian skidded down the street, its red light searching for her. Zelda raised her hand again, and in a flash of golden light the Guardian crumpled.

Whining machinery and clanking footsteps grew louder again in response. Ganon was trying to slow her down, Zelda realised.

Zelda broke into a run down the street and emerged onto the Central Square. Across from her, the west reach of Hyrule Castle Town was almost entirely in flames. The red glow of Guardians still glimmered between the broken frames of houses. Zelda’s breath left her at the sight. She fell to an involuntary stop.

It had only been a few days prior that she’d left this town. Townspeople had gathered alongside the road, marvelling at her gilded horse as they always did, but watching her with cautious eyes. There’d been a time when Zelda had waved to them, when horns rang out and children hung flowers from her saddle, and the townspeople shook banners bearing the Goddess’s crest in pride. But it had been a sombre departure that last time. She hadn’t even the heart to wave to them. Her people. Did even one of them remain, she thought despairingly. How many had hidden behind locked doors, praying for her and Link’s triumphant return?

Zelda felt another Guardian aim at her like a sting on the back of her head. Another swell of light and it was gone. But the light couldn’t fix what was before her. It wouldn’t return her people their homes, their lives. It could only stop Ganon’s corruptive force in its tracks.

Zelda’s hands began to tremble. She clenched them, her eyes growing wet as she watched the flames, but the determination that had guided her onwards didn’t return. Zelda grew limp. What if I’m not enough, she thought.

“Nonsense,” echoed a familiar voice within her. “You can do it, Zelda. You have everything you need to succeed.”

Zelda’s brow softened. She smiled faintly amidst the smoke and whirs despite herself, a sense of warmth wrapping around her, just briefly.

Of course, she thought. We’ll get through this together.

A flurry of red beams met Zelda’s body. Zelda’s posture straightened. She raised her hand.

What would Mipha and her say the next time they saw each other, Zelda wondered, as the Guardians crashed around her one by one.

She bit her lip and stepped carefully through the bodies littering the Square.

And where would they go first, once all of this was over? To visit Urbosa in the desert? Daruk’s volcano? Perhaps too much of a challenge. Perhaps Revali in the mountains would be best.

The smoke around the spires of Hyrule Castle whirled faster, the earth’s tremors so deep Zelda’s breath nearly shook from her lungs. She swallowed.

She couldn’t deny that it would be a long while yet before she and Mipha saw each other. Weeks … months … or if worst came to worst, even a year might be possible. There was no telling how much time the Shrine of Resurrection would need for Link to recover.

Zelda’s pace stiffened as she thought of Link’s body carried away by the Sheikah. She swallowed again.

She’d been too late for him, but she would not falter now, for him or anyone else. If a year was what it took, then she would fight every inch to make that happen. A year and Mipha might have even grown taller, and that would certainly be a sight to look forward to.

Zelda’s weary eyes drew up to Hyrule Castle as she approached its gate.

It would take longer than a year before Hyrule recovered. Her life’s work, it seemed, had really only begun. But there was only one thing she needed to do now: what her father - what Hyrule - what destiny had asked of her existence.

The road to the castle was ahead.

Zelda took a deep breath and kept going.

Heavy silence filled Zelda’s bedroom. Outside, most of Hyrule Castle’s denizens lay asleep in their quarters, yet somehow Zelda and Link’s still wakefulness filled her half-broken room with a quietness deeper than sleep. Zelda sat like a dead weight in the chair at her desk, staring at, and beyond, the pile of letters before her. Link occupied a footstool by the fireplace, staring just as vacantly into the fire.

It was a routine of sorts, unspoken as always, that once the council no longer required Zelda’s time she would retire to the quiet of her bedroom, and Link, having no particular purpose required of him to begin with, would follow. There they would sit in their respective places until Zelda finally darkened her lamp. It wasn’t quite the life Zelda had envisioned for herself post-Calamity, but it held a structure that she could anchor herself to, and in the freefall that was her emergence back into Hyrule, such a structure had its comfort. Lately, however, it had also given her a little too much time to think.

Zelda let out a low breath and looked to Link’s hunched silhouette at the fire. ‘Link. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.’

Link lifted his head slightly, his troubled brow turning to her uncertainly. Zelda’s cheeks warmed, self-conscious of her unusual intrusion. She managed to meet his eyes, and in them saw the vast height of Vah Ruta. The churn of water echoed, just for a moment, and then reality set in, silencing the churn. It was pools now - pools of still water no living creature would touch for more years than she could imagine.

Zelda shivered.

‘Never mind,’ she said, dropping her gaze and making a show of returning her attention back to the letters in front of her, leaving Link to return to the fire in bewilderment.

Zelda reached for a letter, picking, regretfully, an envelope of concerning weight. Cutting it open with a small knife revealed three pages filled to the narrowest of margins.

I hope this letter finds you well, Princess Zelda. It is not too long since my last letter, but I’m afraid my hand is idle. I pray time permits you to read my words, and perhaps, if it is not too much trouble, you could share this letter with Link.

Zelda let out a weary breath. She turned to the last of the double-sided pages.

Of course, if you were to visit, you would be a most honoured guest. You and Link both, though I imagine of course that you are both filled to the gills with work, as the Zoras say.

Zelda set down the letter and rubbed her brow. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d mustered the strength to write Sidon a reply, and so reluctantly reached for a fresh sheet of parchment. Not that there was anything to tell him, nothing more than last time, she felt, which would have been little more than the time before that. Perhaps if she were not the only one to be fielding such letters, Sidon might receive something satisfying in return at last.

Zelda glanced back over at Link with narrowing eyes. As expected, he’d barely moved. Such a presence had been a comfort in the wake of her return, but somewhere between then and now, the old seclusion of her tower had started to haunt her thoughts. She itched to be alone again, alone in the way that had once felt comforting yet rebellious - to be collating her research team’s reports on the Guardians, scribbling her own theories, watering her plant while drafting a reply to Mipha’s latest letter in her head, a plate of fruit cake ever nearby. A world that still seemed to exist in that tower above her bedroom, a bubble of stasis just out of reach - one she might return to if she demanded it. But as she’d discovered upon peering into the shattered castle library, yearning for familiarity and facing the actual remnants were two very different things.

Perhaps that was why she didn’t have the heart to make Link leave. It wasn’t just that he still looked the same - his quietness was familiar. Feeling frustrated with him was familiar, too. And since he’d stopped talking about the past, about anything, really, with it went the constant reminder of all that had changed. It was a relief in a sense, though the silence wasn’t “good” - Zelda sensed that much as well. And he did not sit there for her sake. Perhaps it was a relief for him, too. He who was as much a victim of stasis as she was, though destiny it seemed would have their roles now reversed after the Calamity. She would protect Link in what way she could, just as he had protected her. She would give him the time he needed to regain himself, just as he had always shown her patience. But helping her had also been Link’s mission. Her own mission now was to restore Hyrule, and she would be faithful to that duty above all.

On that thought, Zelda gripped her quill as though it were a weapon to fend off her circling thoughts and began the bones of her reply to Sidon. She didn’t need to read Sidon’s letter in full to know the gist of what he’d written. Each letter by his hand bore the same effective message as the last, in the same exuberant manner, that he was eager to be of any help that she required. It was not an empty gesture, either, not when he was no longer the little Zora of her memory, ever in chase of his sister.

Zelda bit her inner cheek to stop the thought. She paused her writing to review the draft.

Dearest Friend, the letter began.

Zelda jolted forward in her seat and tried to tear off the greeting, but the parchment resisted. Zelda seized the knife again and managed to cut away the words. Distinguished Ally, she scrawled instead, and then dropped her head into her hands.

Such a slip up - it was all these distractions, Zelda reasoned. The quiet - it was always too quiet - so quiet her mind could roam free and unearth all sorts of memories better left buried. And Link, letting his dour presence fill the room until she had nowhere to retreat but her own mind. And Sidon’s letters. Did he not realise the wellspring of memories his name alone tapped into? Could he not let her be free of that for even one moon cycle?

Zelda’s earlier stupor called to her, tempting her to abandon her task. But like a child’s fort of blankets, its comfort was only temporary, its safety an illusion. Hyrule’s recovery grew more complex with each new day, and one of those days, sooner than she’d like, she could no longer be the princess who dreamed of her tower. One day she would have to accept her crown, and she would have to wear it with her eyes open. She needed to be strong.

Zelda gave the scrap of parchment an unconscious squeeze and looked back to Sidon’s letter.

Sidon’s good faith was unquestionable, but she would find the right path. She had already made progress, after all. The council she’d gathered trusted her judgement, and the plans they’d devised together were looking optimistic. Sidon would see that soon enough. Everyone would see that they could depend on her. She would be more than the princess who let everyone down this time. Though she still couldn’t pick up her quill.

Zelda sank hopelessly back into her chair. She fell into thought against her better judgement, quickly losing sense of time. Her thumb rubbed absently over the words on the parchment. The water churned and diminished once more, but this time Link’s footsteps echoed in its place, trailing through those pools. He would always be the last person to see her, to have heard her goodbye, and Zelda wasn’t sure she could ever forgive herself for that.

When the light of the fireplace had grown low, Zelda cleared her throat. ‘Link …’

Link looked up at her again, eyes wide.

‘When you spoke with Mipha’s spirit in Vah Ruta … are you certain you told me everything that she said?’

Link’s surprise shifted and faded into disappointment. His shoulders sagged lower in response. Zelda couldn’t look away this time, though her mouth twisted in resistance against the words she wanted to say.

‘I just … I want to make certain that there wasn’t something …’ She sighed. ‘Something you might have forgotten to tell me.’

Something after Mipha’s words about her despair, and how glad she’d been to see Link again, and to help him. Something after she’d told Link to save Zelda. Something more.

Link shook his head. He started to turn back to the fire and then paused. Eyes low, he looked back towards the desk, waiting.

Zelda looked past him and the fire. Her mouth became a hard line. She gave a curt nod to herself, managing to return the scrap of parchment to the desk and make a limp reach towards a new letter, before sinking back into her chair empty-handed. She stared absently beyond the letters.

Link looked back to the fire in defeat.

The room grew silent once more.

Chapter Text

The sky over Kakariko Village was the pale orange of sunset as Zelda dismounted her horse. She didn’t stop to rest, immediately falling into a march up the darkening bridge to Impa’s manor, her breath hard from exhaustion. Paya hurried after her, reaching out as though to bid her wait. Zelda pushed the manor doors open and then paused to look over her shoulder. Her eyes met Paya with a warning that halted Paya in her tracks. Paya shrank back. Zelda closed the doors behind her.

In the dim, warm light of the manor, Impa sat at a low table with a steaming bowl of soup, an unravelled scroll beside it for her perusal. She froze at the sight of Zelda, spoon hovering over her bowl. She pushed both aside. ‘What’s happened?’

Zelda stopped before the table and all but dropped to her knees, head sinking low in a bow. She rested on her hands for a moment, her forehead almost touching the floor in weariness. She took a deep breath and then finally straightened. ‘I need your help, Impa. There’s a spirit I must contact. You - you may be the only one who knows how.’

Impa blinked in surprise, and whatever small sense of relief she’d felt at the seeming lack of emergency vanished as she fully absorbed what Zelda said. Her face grew grave. ‘Rest. I’ll make you some tea.’

Zelda reached for Impa’s arm to stop her rising. ‘You know the old ways, don’t you? You could teach me?’

Impa looked up from Zelda’s anxious grip on her arm to take in her sleepless eyes and short breath. Her grave expression deepened. She fought for a moment to find words. ‘Princess Zelda … you should know that those practices carry an oath to kings and queens past to never use them in all but the most extreme of circumstances.’

Zelda nodded. She leaned closer. ‘It’s important, I assure you.’

Impa paused, fighting to find words again. Her mouth opened and closed with an unhappy sigh. ‘I don’t doubt your conviction,’ she finally said.

Stung, Zelda shrank back. She bit her lip to hold her tongue. Impa lowered her gaze regretfully. ‘I don’t say that to test your patience, dear Zelda, only to acknowledge that you’ve lost a great deal. The Champion Festival must have been a very difficult occasion - emotions and memories still fresh for you where time has freed the rest of us.’

Zelda’s mouth twisted. Her gaze lowered as well.

‘I understand many things left unresolved might have come to mind,’ Impa gently went on. ‘Things you wish you could have said - could say now. I remember things were … tense, the last you and your father spoke.’

Zelda’s head snapped up. ‘This isn’t about him - it’s Mipha. Mipha’s spirit has reached out to me.’

Impa’s mouth fell open. ‘Mipha’s spirit?’

‘Twice. Paya witnessed it herself the second time.’

Impa blinked, slowly taking this in. She eased back from the table to face Zelda properly. ‘I think it’s best you tell me exactly what’s been happening. From the beginning, if you please.’

Zelda prickled with impatience. But there was familiarity in the tone of Impa’s stubborn inquisitiveness, and Zelda couldn’t help but soften. For a moment she was able to see past Impa’s wizened face to the young woman she remembered - one of the few friends she’d ever had - the only person who still, occasionally, called her “Zelda”.

Zelda relented. She pulled out her tired legs from underneath her, curling closer into herself as she crossed them. Impa relaxed a little as well at this, drawing her warm robe tighter around herself as she settled in to listen.

Zelda picked restlessly at her trousers in thought. ‘I’m still rather in the dark myself,’ she murmured, ‘but the start of it …’ Her hand stilled. ‘I suppose it started with a dream. It was the night I arrived in the domain.’

‘The dream was unusual?’

Zelda couldn’t help but blush, baulking at the prospect of describing it. ‘Well … Mipha was there. It was the first I’d dreamed of her since even before the Calamity. And I was able to speak with her a little - about whether she could reach out to me, though I didn’t get an answer.’

Impa averted her eye. ‘A dream at such a time as the festival … it would not be unexpected,’ she said, her gaze dropping tactfully into her lap.

Zelda sniffed sharply. ‘It would not. Yet it was the very next night that her spirit came to me.’ She paused, thinking back on the visit, of the soothing warmth in Mipha’s embrace, and she let out a slower breath. ‘Something about the festival seems to have brought it on. After the dream, I’d spent the day trying not to think of it - of Mipha. But at night, alone, that was impossible. It was wretched, honestly. I was wretched. But suddenly there she was, right before me, and …’ Her breath hitched. ‘Mipha helped me. Like she always does. She didn’t speak, she just … held me for a moment. Enough to calm me down.’

A sad smile came to Impa.

‘Then she was gone,’ said Zelda. ‘I didn’t know what to think of it at first. But then it happened again the night after that. Paya saw it too that time. It was the same as before … Mipha can’t stay long, it seems. Just long enough to lift my spirits.’

Impa’s fingers slowly joined in thought. ‘What was happening that time?’ she asked. ‘You were upset again?’

Zelda grimaced. ‘Oh, yes, it was the usual way of it: me being utterly hopeless, and Mipha picking me up again.’

Impa grew quiet.

‘The Zora priestess couldn’t help me,’ Zelda pressed on. ‘She didn’t know of any ways to reach Mipha’s spirit. But I must —’ Zelda’s fingers grasped the fabric over her heart. ‘I … I must. Please understand. I’ll do whatever you need of me. Anything. Please, Impa.’

Impa looked up at this. Zelda had already turned her gaze away in agitation, not seeing the understanding she’d hoped for slowly dawning on Impa’s face. ‘… Zelda, you and Mipha …?’

Zelda bit her lip. Her gaze lifted warily, almost defiant, ready to have to defend such a possibility to inevitable incredulity. But Impa’s cheeks were faintly coloured. Impa shifted a little, embarrassed in a way more befitting of the Impa Zelda had known than the world-wise elder she’d become. ‘I knew you two had grown close,’ said Impa. ‘I didn’t realise that … Mipha and yourself, that the two of you—’

‘It wasn’t like that.’ Zelda looked away just as quickly as she’d interjected, fighting to keep her expression neutral. Then her brow sharply twisted, betraying her anguish. Her head sank into her hands. ‘It could have been.’

Impa let out a slow breath. They sat there, deflated, looking pointedly away from each other across the room. The steam drifting from Impa’s soup had now stopped. Shadows were deepening in the corners of the room, and as shutters along one wall rattled faintly in the breeze, other noises started to echo in from outside in the village: faint birdsongs crooning from roof to roof, children’s names called home, the rush of the waterfalls behind the manor.

Zelda’s eyes were prickling, ready to spill. She squeezed them shut, pressing the heel of her palm into one lid, and forcing herself to calm through long, steady breaths. Focus, she pleaded to herself.

Impa’s eyes had fallen back to her lap, her fingers joined in thought again. Zelda watched her amid her purposeful breaths and waited. But Impa was quiet. Zelda tried to hold her tongue, to be patient, until her head finally lifted from her hands. ‘What else can I tell you, Impa?’

Impa remained silent. Zelda’s breath quickened again. ‘What is it? Don’t you believe me?’

Impa’s head jerked up in surprise. ‘Of course I believe you, Zelda. But I must admit, what you’ve told me about Mipha’s visits … they sound oddly familiar.’ She frowned to herself, growing quiet again.

Zelda leaned closer. ‘What do you mean?’

Impa tried and failed to meet Zelda’s eye. Zelda stared at her in alarm. ‘What’s familiar about them?’

‘They sound like the power Mipha gave to Link.’

Zelda stilled. Her frown was quick, clouding her face as she waved her hand to dismiss the suggestion. ‘No. No. It’s not the same. Not at all. I’m in no grave danger when Mipha comes to me.’

‘No,’ agreed Impa. She went to continue and then hesitated again. Undaunted by Zelda’s growing frustration and impatience, Impa tried to choose her words carefully. ‘Perhaps that’s ... as intended,’ she said. ‘Perhaps this is a healing that activates for a different need.’

Zelda finally faltered at this. Her frown deepened, uncertainty now overcoming her impatience. Impa held out her hand to Zelda, and Zelda, still frowning with uncertainty, took it. ‘Could there be a reason why Mipha would bring you such healing?’ said Impa.

A reason? Well, of course, Zelda thought slowly. Mipha was always there for her. She didn’t want her to feel alone - to suffer alone. Mipha knew how it felt, didn’t she? ... Hadn’t she.

Zelda found herself shaking her head. ‘I …’ Her mouth was dry. She grew still again. Hadn’t Mipha come back for her?

The visits flashed before Zelda’s eyes, as best she could recall them. Mipha in her aquamarine light. Smiling, soothing. There in Zelda’s moments of weakness like she’d always been. But also silent now. Unresponsive, even. Existing only through a gesture.

Impa squeezed Zelda’s hand, and Zelda went limp. ‘That power ...’ Zelda’s eyes grew wet again. ‘It’s not her, is it.’

Impa looked down. She shook her head. Pressure surged in Zelda’s chest at this, thick with rising panic. It coiled into her throat, squeezing her from the inside out. She blinked rapidly, trying to contain herself. ‘But …’ She blinked harder. ‘I could still speak with her —’ An involuntary gasp escaped her. ‘I can still speak with her - can’t I, Impa? You can teach me how?’

Impa ran her hand over Zelda’s. A soothing noise hummed in her throat. Consoling. Zelda’s breath wobbled. ‘Please? For me?’

Impa grew quiet. Another breeze rattled the window shutters. Zelda stared desperately at Impa, and Impa’s hand squeezed gently around Zelda’s.

‘I’m sorry, old friend. Mipha is gone.’

Zelda’s hand slipped from Impa’s grip. She stared wordlessly at Impa, blinking rapidly again, until gathering tears warped Impa into beads of shadow and light. There was no strength left in Zelda to chastise herself this time. Her hands flew to her face in an attempt to stop the tears, and then she sank forward. Head cradled in her hands, her shoulders shook with a muffled sob. Another sob spilled out of her, then another, more following until wails of sorrow and rage filled the darkening room. The pressure in Zelda didn’t ease - it only grew stronger as she lowered her hand to clutch her chest, grasping for some intangible relief.

Impa bowed her head. Zelda tried to straighten, to pull herself in, but every attempt sent another wave of sobs pouring out, mocking her for even trying. She curled back into herself, struggling to catch a breath. It hurt, so much more than she remembered.

Impa reached out and stroked Zelda’s hair, humming again, soothing her like a newborn. When Zelda’s sobs finally grew hoarse, turning into whimpers, Impa’s hums fell silent. Her mouth twisted as she looked down at Zelda, her lips downturning with a grief of her own. She couldn’t be the friend Zelda wanted anymore - she could barely be the friend that Zelda needed, and her heart ached to know it. But even if there was no way to protect Zelda from the path her destiny had set for her, she could still help, in what unwanted, needed way she could, and she knew that she must not relent.

‘It hurts now,’ she said. ‘It may always be painful. But one day the knowledge that Mipha was thinking of you - that she wanted to be there for you even though the physical realm forbade it, that will feel like a gift.’

An unearthly wail burst from Zelda. She yanked away, pressing her hands back to her face. Her chest heaved. Then Zelda dragged her wet face along her sleeve. Drawing strength from some primal well within herself, Zelda clambered to her feet and turned from Impa.

Outside in the chill night air, Paya waited anxiously with Cado at the foot of the manor bridge, whispering her rapid concerns. She stopped dead at the sight of Zelda as she approached, and Zelda stormed past the two of them without so much as a glance. Paya tentatively followed her into the stable.

‘Ready a horse for me,’ said Zelda.

Paya hurried to obey. Her mouth opened and closed with questions, losing courage each time, until Zelda climbed into the saddle. ‘But Princess - where are you going? Are you returning to Zora’s Domain?’

Zelda gripped the rein. She almost rode on without answer, but then she foresaw Paya and Cado rushing to their pursuit, as they must. She closed her eyes against the pain blaring in her temples. She gritted her teeth. ‘I’m going to Hateno Village,’ she said. ‘And don’t you dare follow me.’

A map spanning half the tabletop lied before Zelda. Hyrule Castle occupied the centre, it’s various towers and bridges marked with notes or scratched out entirely where the structure had been destroyed. The surrounding Hyrule Castle Town was punctuated with arrows and symbols and decorated with squares of parchment used to mark buildings. Zelda’s gaze fell on Hyrule Cathedral, whose status had been accounted for with a scratch, a square, and a small question mark. An arm reached past her as a member of her council adjusted the placement of another square. There was a small uproar from the remaining council at this input, and as they clamoured about the table, Zelda quietly reached forward and scribbled over the cathedral’s question mark.

‘The fountain should stay where it is, how is that even up for discussion?’ muttered a councillor, reaching to push back the other’s square.

‘The construction company does have some rather … interesting ideas,’ another councillor answered. ‘But we did say we’d take public opinion into consideration.’

‘An open mind doesn’t beget reason by itself,’ said Zelda, hoping to reassert some calm.

The council nodded solemnly at this. They could not know, of course, that she was lifting the same words her father had once used on her. Perhaps, she hoped, he had lifted them from elsewhere too.

Footsteps echoed up through a passage into the makeshift meeting room. A doorway, once blocked with rubble, now saw Link pass through into the room. He met Zelda’s eye and stopped short of the table. A hooded travelling cape hung from his shoulders.

‘Not now,’ Zelda said and looked back to the map. ‘Are we still waiting on their finalised plans for the western district?’

‘I believe so,’ a councillor promptly replied. ‘Though as noted, if we were to consider the eastern district a more feasible option for housing —’

‘If the new housing zone is to the east,’ interjected another, ‘then we might as well throw away our maps!’

‘Well why in the name of Hylia would anyone want to live in the west?’ replied another. ‘The ground was poison not too long ago …’

‘It’s been almost a year … we must do something with it eventually.’

Zelda felt Link’s eyes locked on her, pulling her attention back. Zelda gripped the edge of the table, resenting the need to raise her voice for him. ‘Take whatever you need,’ she told him.

A few councillors looked up at this. Zelda tapped her fingers on the map to divert their attention. ‘We’ve tested the ground over and over,’ she said. ‘Purah has assured me the malice is gone. That’s good enough for me.’

The council murmured in assent. Discussion began anew on the commencement of a new stable outside Hyrule Castle Town. Zelda tried to listen with her full attention, but Link didn’t move from the corner of her eye. Zelda shot him a pointed look of impatience and Link stared back at her, waiting.

Zelda rubbed her temple. She excused herself from the table and started up a stairwell that led from the meeting to the castle’s observation room. Link’s footsteps echoed behind her. Upon reaching the next set of stairs up to the observation post, Zelda stopped on the tattered carpeting and half turned to him. ‘There’s no need for this,’ she said quietly. ‘Just go. You don’t need my permission.’

Link stopped before her. He didn’t move to leave. As they stood there in silence, the voices of the councillors’ squabbling in Zelda’s absence drifted up the stairwell. There’d been a time when Link had at least wanted to be present for such meetings, tedious as they often were, but the old routine had finally changed. It made no difference to her, Zelda thought. She was used to being alone by now.

‘What are you waiting for?’ she said. ‘Don’t let me hold you back.’

Link watched her, waiting still, though a flicker of pained disappointment crossed his face. A long moment passed, Zelda still not turning to fully face him, and then Link finally bowed to Zelda. He descended back to the meeting room.

Zelda’s hands unclenched. She let out a low breath and stood half frozen, surprised somehow. She looked down along the empty stairwell after Link. Then her face turned upwards to the light of the observation post.

Zelda walked out into the open air of the balcony, a cool wind tugging her hair. Hyrule Castle Town’s low silhouette lay before her, the land unsettlingly bare but green at least, its vitality somehow restored. Without the maps that had survived the Calamity, there’d be no recalling the true layout of Hyrule Castle Town as it once was - even with them, though, that silhouette would never be the same as Zelda remembered it. Slowly, carefully, it might return to something familiar. At least now she could say the town was no longer the sea of destruction it had been when she had left it.

Below the balcony, Link mounted his waiting horse. Zelda watched as he rode through the open gate and into the town. She looked down at the parapet, not wanting to care - to even seem like she cared. But she looked up again all the same and saw Link growing small with distance as he rode further from the castle.

Heated voices from the meeting room drifted up to the balcony. Zelda went to turn, to return to her duties, yet found herself waiting, watching, hoping for some sign of regret. But Link did not look back.

Zelda’s shadow loomed tall against the house on the outskirts of Hateno Village, the house’s black windows like shining eyes unblinking at her dauntless approach. Zelda didn’t knock, raising her hand only to grasp the front door’s handle. The front door stood unlocked. Zelda paused, surprised, but only for a moment as she proceeded to barrel on through into the darkened house.

Gloomy shapes swam before Zelda, unfamiliar and unwelcoming. The force of her entry sent the front door bouncing with a hard bang against the wall, startling her. As cold air pressed in through the doorframe and around her, old air pressed out, bringing with it the heavy reek of spoiled food, followed by soot, and mold, and dust. Zelda paused again in surprise. She raised her hand to cover her nose, and from the faint light from the village that filtered past her into the house, made out a table before her piled with dishes and clutter. The contents of the nearest dish quivered. Zelda quickly looked away. Her directions from the gatekeeper had been clear enough, but perhaps she’d been mistaken. Surely he could not live here.

To the right were stairs, but no footsteps thudded down them at her intrusion. Zelda moved inwards and knocked into a basket by her feet. Rotting vegetables lay inside. More baskets surrounded it, their contents just as unpromising. She grimaced and moved past them, spotting swords, a spear, a shield amongst the other dusty items on the floor. Her heart quickened at the sight, but she didn’t recognise them. Her elbow knocked against a lantern on the table and Zelda risked lowering her hand to light the wick. The candle was only a stump, but there was enough extra light to cut through the gloom, revealing Daruk’s enormous Boulder Breaker on the wall beside Zelda.

Zelda’s hand fell from her nose again. She gaped up at the giant weapon. It had never been so stationary in her life - always jolting against its place on Daruk’s back or obliterating rock like a hammer through glass.

Zelda’s heart pounded in her chest. She hurried to look across the wall and saw Urbosa’s Daybreaker shield hanging beside the Boulder Breaker, then her Scimitar of the Seven. Then it was Revali’s Great Eagle Bow, and then finally …

Zelda breathed in sharply. She nearly dropped the lantern in her rush to the Lightscale Trident where it hung, waiting, on the far wall. The red sheen of its curves gleamed in the flickering light, and Zelda gasped. She could see the trident in Mipha’s grip, how her vigour had been as strong as it ever was as she’d aimed and thrown it with marvellous precision. Her hands had been all over it. Her spirit had been within it. It was the only extension of Mipha Zelda had left, and Zelda’s hand rose in anticipation to meet it.

The front door snapped shut behind Zelda.

Zelda jumped. She stopped short of the trident and breathlessly span around. A hooded figure stood by the door, disguised by the dim light. They didn’t move. Zelda immediately tensed. ‘Link?’

The newcomer didn’t respond. Shadows from the swinging lantern danced across them, the scattered light unable to penetrate the shadows hiding their face. Zelda tightened her grip and lifted the lantern. Eyes glared out from under the hood and then winced away from the light, but not before Zelda caught a flash of pale skin and lank blond hair. Zelda recoiled, regretful to have been correct. ‘So. This really is where you’re living.’

Link’s head stayed low. Zelda threw up her hand. ‘Or should I say “hiding”?’

Link didn’t move against the wall. He continued to remain still, willing to wait, it seemed, for Zelda to finish whatever business she had in his home without protest. Without even a glimmer of curiosity. This shook Zelda as much as the state of him. She lowered the lantern in disbelief, her other hand travelling upwards to protect her nose again. ‘You realise you’ve disappointed a lot of people with this, don’t you? You were expected at the festival. People wanted to see you there.’

Link said nothing.

‘And why shouldn’t they?’ Zelda continued, her voice growing loud. ‘You and Mipha were so close, after all.’

Link’s head sank lower at this. Zelda gritted her teeth. ‘You’re not the only one who misses her, you know. It wasn’t easy for me either, but I went.’

Link looked up to meet Zelda’s eyes. Zelda sucked in a breath, aghast once more at the state of him, while Link shifted his gaze to rest pointedly at the Champion weapons behind Zelda, and then back at her, his brow creasing with confusion. Zelda’s cheeks warmed. She glanced back at the Lightscale Trident. The trident waited for her, but under its owner’s watchful eye, Zelda’s hand now remained self-consciously by her side. She looked sideways at Link, deflating, and growing more frustrated in turn. Link didn’t look away. Zelda raised her chin. ‘Tell me - has the Lightscale Trident ever spoken to you?’

Link’s gaze didn’t waver at such a question, though a moment passed before he gave a curt shake of his head. Relief swept through Zelda. She looked down for a moment, drinking this confirmation in, and her shoulders tremored as a smile came to her. Triumphant, she laughed. ‘Perhaps Mipha didn’t love you as much as everyone thinks she did.’

Link blinked, bewildered once more. Zelda blinked back at this confusion, and with no retort to bounce back from, her words hung in her ears. Her smile faded. She grew limp. ‘I don’t know why I’m laughing,’ she said. ‘You’re the winner here. History will always remember Mipha’s love for you. You have her armour … a childhood of memories with her. You even got to say goodbye. I …’ All she had was the knowledge that whatever might have been with Mipha would never be more than the short time they had together.

Zelda’s chin fell. She stood silently, fresh despair clouding over her, then heard a barely perceptible sigh. Link turned and lurched away from Zelda towards the stairs. He touched the wall, steadying himself, and then began climbing. Zelda wiped her eyes.

‘Look at you. Was this really the point of you leaving the castle? To waste away like this? To give up?’

Link didn’t answer. Zelda staggered after him to the foot of the stairs. ‘Do you think this is what Mipha would have wanted for you? What Urbosa, or Revali, or Daruk wanted? They wouldn’t even recognise you now.’

Link continued towards the shadows of the upper level, letting her words bounce off his back without answer. Zelda’s hand became a fist.

It’d once seemed inevitable, sitting in silence in the firelight of her bedroom, that somewhere, sometime in the future, Link would find the spark that encouraged him onwards. Something he could cling to, like she had, and keep himself afloat. If that something couldn’t be found living amongst the ruins of Hyrule Castle, Hateno Village might have been as good a place as any to find it. But in all this time Link had never stopped sinking. Perhaps he hadn’t even tried to stop.

Zelda slammed her fist against the wall.

‘Why must you make things so difficult for yourself? Why can’t you move on, like me?’

Link stopped at the top of the stairs. He was still for a moment, and then he looked over his shoulder at Zelda in disbelief. The candle in the lantern sputtered. Zelda, shrinking, stared back at Link in the dancing light. Link turned and disappeared through the shadows, but Zelda continued staring up into that darkness, blinking.

The dying candlelight grew frantic. Zelda slowly looked down, and then to the Lightscale Trident on the wall. As though Mipha looked back at her through its gleam, a disheartened witness, Zelda felt a wave of horror at the very thought of touching it.

Zelda shoved the lantern back onto the table with a hopeless sob. She hurried from Link’s house, closing the door firmly on all its decay. The warm glow of the village awaited her on the other side of the bridge and Zelda started towards it, drawing her cloak close around her. Then she stopped. Started again, then stopped.

Her hands weren’t supposed to be empty. The trident wasn’t just a link to Mipha, it was proof - to reassure every concerned face she’d abandoned that their worries were unfounded. Everything was still under control. She knew what she was doing … didn’t she?

Zelda sobbed. Cold air nipped her cheeks as she stood there, helpless. But no warmth came to rescue her this time.

Chapter Text

Birdsongs at dawn lifted Zelda from her sleep. Her sore eyes cracked open to find dew dotting the long grass above her head. Zelda pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, raining soft droplets on herself from the gesture, and buried her face back into the cloak’s shadows. But the mercy of sleep didn’t return to claim her. Nor did the thick fabric protect her from the growing hum of the waking village, or the fresh smell of a new day calling her to action. Zelda buried her head deeper into her arms and lay there, unthinkingly as possible, suspended in warm darkness and the steady beat of her heart. It was as temporary a cocoon as any, but perhaps if she lay there languishing long enough, then perhaps this time Mipha might …

Zelda tried to head off the thought, but a sickly, anxious yearning was already building in her stomach. Mipha’s return wouldn’t be the same now that she knew the encounter for what it was. There was no intention behind that embrace - no sign, no plea to be heard. No answers or resolutions. Just an echo. And perhaps it was better than nothing, thought Zelda. That echo was still Mipha in some sense. Not enough - the warmth of placing one’s hand where another’s had rested. But it had let her and Mipha reach each other, however distantly.

Desperately hopeful though the thought was, dread was already replacing the yearning in Zelda’s stomach - for if that echo hadn’t returned to her now, after all that had happened since leaving Zora’s Domain, then perhaps it was already too late. Something had changed - something that meant the power didn’t need to activate. Somewhere along the way she’d stepped onto a new path and stumbled blindly along it, a path that led her further away from needing Mipha’s help. As if such a thing could be possible.

Zelda bit her lip.

It was as though the harder she’d chased, the further Mipha had left her reach. If she’d just heeded Mipha’s final request, as Mipha’s own people had - if she’d tried, then perhaps it wouldn’t have come to this: Mipha gone, again, and leaving her more alone than ever. Worse than alone, Zelda felt adrift, and so unbearably tired. How was she to return to her life in the castle as though none of this had happened? How could she return to her duties, her anchor, knowing now just how willingly she’d cast those duties aside? How willingly she might cast them aside again, too, for another chance to find Mipha’s presence?

The grass rustled as Zelda curled tighter into herself. She needed calm - the still mind of the waterfall again. The stillness of her stasis, even. A refuge. Some kind of escape. Even Mipha’s power had been a relief, cutting her worries short, soothing her troubled heart. As cowardly as it felt, her body still ached to be held in that warmth. But the aquamarine light returned only in her inner eye, splashing her mind with that ghostly glow and nothing more. There was only herself.

"Nonsense," answered the echo still cradled inside her.

Tears sprang. Zelda let out a low, shaky breath. No, she realised. Not only herself.

She pressed her hand to her chest, where her heart still ached.

Gone or not, and cursed as it felt to possess, Mipha’s power had come to her for a reason. It was still there, in some sense. Not a sign, or the plea to be heard that she’d hoped it was - she didn’t understand much of what it was at all. But it was something Mipha had wanted her to have nonetheless. If she could accept that as fact, then she had to accept what it meant for Mipha to have done this - that Mipha had cared for her more than she’d ever known, that she had wanted to stay with her, in what small way she could. The power had been the last connection between them Mipha could put forth into the world. The last hello, and the last goodbye - the final message Zelda had longed for.

Zelda let out another shaky breath as her fingers dug into her chest.

Mipha's power, its intent - she had to let it be enough. It was all that remained now along with the ache in her heart - all the ancient adoration left living within her, confused by this familiar yet unfamiliar world, but persisting. Unable to stop. If that was all that remained, then she would have to learn to treasure that for what it was, as Impa said. She could let her heart ache - accept that it might always ache. And accept that Mipha did care deeply for her. And move on.

It had to be enough.

It had to, thought Zelda.

But the sickly, anxious yearning was building again. Zelda gritted her teeth.

Hadn’t she lamented never getting to say goodbye - to part on knowing terms? She could let this situation be the chance to look Mipha back in the eye and say thank you - to show the difference she’d made in her life, and all that she’d carry forward. She could fulfil Mipha’s request if she really tried this time. If she kept going, kept trying, one day she might even feel as though she’d finally atoned for what Hyrule had lost.

Zelda blinked in new tears. She braced her hand against the flattened grass beside her, clenching it for a moment, and then tried to sit up. She choked back a sob, but there was no real use fighting it - her reserve of tears felt as vast as East Reservoir Lake. Get up, she thought. Keep going. There was so much more work to be done. So many people still depending on her. She had to be faithful to her duties above all, including herself. Including even Mipha.

Zelda laid her hand against the grass again, ready to brace herself.

Even Mipha.

Zelda gripped the grass tightly, and then her hand went limp. Her sob broke and finally poured out of her.

No. They were supposed to get through it together. When she emerged from that stasis, when she and Link could finally fulfil their destiny and banish the terrible evil once more, when things had had a chance to settle and she’d seen her friends’ faces again, and hugged them all close, there was only one person she’d really be seeing amongst the sea of celebration that ensued - one person her heart would be looking for. One person she needed to thank above all others. Whose pride would sing in her the loudest. The difficult  journey would be far from over, its course now one of mending, but she could bear it. She could bear anything when they were together.

She wasn’t supposed to still be searching. Still waiting. Waiting for the impossible to reverse itself, as it surely must. Waiting, amidst the planning, and consulting, and negotiating that filled her days, to wake up. Waiting to go back. This Hyrule could not be real. The world was not meant to feel so empty. That can’t have been what she was fighting for - to live in a world where Mipha was gone. Where she’d never been able to help her, to protect her in the one way she could. And yet she had to live. She had to find a way to keep going.

Zelda sobbed again. She curled tighter into herself, pulling her cloak to her face. She felt ripped open and left to bleed out in the grass. It truly didn’t seem possible that she could get up, much less return to Kakariko Village, and the castle, and continue on from where she’d left off before the Champion Festival. She really had gone down a new path, further from Mipha's power, and now further from her only means of survival as well, for focussing on her duties had at least been a hand to hold. It had kept her head above water, even if it hadn’t pulled her out. She had to pull herself out this time. Somehow. There had to be a way to live with it. There had to be a way for it to get better. To keep following the pathway out. To stop sinking.

Zelda tried to wipe her eyes. Her body ached terribly as she pushed herself up again to sit. She rose, groaning, and then sank onto her elbows. Breathing out, the morning light still soft as it met her face from her falling cloak, she looked across her new line of sight, over the grass and waking wildflowers, to Link’s house.

It was much more charming in the light. At first glance, the home was no different to any other building in Hateno Village. But the longer Zelda looked at it amidst the birdsongs and waking life around it, a telling stillness emanated from those pale walls. Zelda gazed at Link’s house for a longer while. Her eyes grew heavy as she took in the sight, until she could no longer stand it.

Zelda's mouth twisted. She dragged herself upright again, managing to sit up properly this time, and then froze. She was too stricken to move as the reality of her situation rushed to her once more. Her chest rose and sank with a harsh breath. But the moment passed. Zelda kept pulling herself up, struggling onto her feet at last.

Link’s front door remained unlocked. Zelda stopped on the threshold, gripping the doorframe to steady herself.

As feared, what was once hidden by shadow beyond that door now promised increasingly unfortunate sights in the new light of morning. It wasn’t just the rotting food by the door - left fresh, no doubt, by concerned villagers - it was also the cracked mud path trodden from door to stairs and along the rug, the piles of dirty garments and dishes pushed to the perimeter of the room and now closing in, the elaborate cobwebs stretched along abandoned shelves, and what looked to be an old bird nest poking down into the fireplace from the chimney.

Zelda stared mutely at the mess before her, more tired just from looking at it. No sound emerged from upstairs, and so Zelda slowly removed her cloak. The Champions’ belongings glinted from the walls, the only maintained items in the house, but Zelda’s gaze remained firmly averted.

She picked up a basket of old produce and carried it back outside, walking until she came to a cliffside, and tossed the rotting contents over. Then she returned for the next basket, then the next, her feet dragging a little as she walked back and forth. Baskets emptied, she moved on to the more consuming task of clearing the table and chairs, relieving them not just of their towering clutter but of the dust and grime left in that wake. What Zelda could salvage from the unbroken dishes she brought to the river below the house. She scrubbed until her fingers cramped. Then she heaved a bucket of fresh water back up to Link’s house, then another. Doubt creased her brow as she scrubbed away at the table. But she didn’t stop scrubbing.

The stairs of the house creaked with footsteps.

Zelda tensed. Her hand fell still, cloth clutched in her grip, and her eyes hovered on the table as the creaking stopped short. Link had paused on the stairs, his wary expression lifting with shock as he peered from the bright doorway to Zelda at the table. Zelda glanced up at him.

The light of day did Link no favours, only highlighting the shadows under his eyes. He seemed even smaller now. Zelda, bleary-eyed and exhausted, had to imagine she did not look much better. Somehow, leaving was supposed to have made life better for Link. Easier, at least. She'd thought it might make her life easier too, but that hadn’t quite gone to plan either.

Zelda bit her lip. She looked about the floor, at the mess still engulfing them, and then down at her hands. She gestured with the cloth. ‘I hope you don’t mind. I …’ Zelda blinked, her mouth promptly closing. She set down the cloth and looked back to Link on the stairs. He didn't look resentful of her presence, but a little wary. Zelda knew she'd earned it. She let out a long breath. ‘People are worried about you, you know. They’re waiting for you to come back.’

Link dropped his gaze. Zelda went to speak again and then faltered. She felt the presence of the Champions’ weapons pressing around her, though she still couldn’t look at them. ‘I’m not here to drag you back to the castle,’ she said. ‘I know you’ve come here for a reason. But our friends …’ The dull shine of Daruk's Boulder Breaker drifted into the corner of her eye. ‘They’d want to see us working together again, don’t you think?’ Zelda’s voice grew small. ‘... I want to work together again.’

Link stared back at her in surprise. Zelda looked away, sparing herself the sight of his justified confusion, a little surprised at herself as well. Link hesitated on the steps, taking in Zelda’s defeated frame for a long moment. Then the creaks returned as he slowly made his way down.

Zelda tensed again. She could only imagine what Link must be thinking. Would he go to the door and point her out of the house? Leave himself, and wait until her intrusion had safely left his fortress? Or perhaps simply go about his business, ignoring her presence per the example she'd set him, until she was driven away by his indifference.

Link came to the head of the table. He gripped the chair, steadying himself, and then pulled the chair out. He gestured for Zelda to sit.

Zelda’s hand flew to her mouth, muffling the half sob, half splutter of surprise that escaped her. She accepted the seat, perching tentatively at first, then sinking more heavily into herself. Link sat down beside her. His eyes were wide as he cautiously looked to her, still absorbing the extent of the state she was in with no small amount of disbelief.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Zelda. She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. ‘I never managed to be a friend to you, did I.’

Link blinked rapidly.

‘You’d think after all we’d been through, things would be different,’ Zelda went on. She frowned. ‘Not just you and I. It was supposed to be easier after the Calamity. Less chaos. ... Less hurt.’

Link looked down at this. Zelda stared hard at her hands, clenching one as the old flash of gold light played through her head. ‘I wish time had taken my memories too,’ she breathed. ‘To be someone else, just for a little while … I think that would have helped.’

Link’s brow furrowed. As he looked back up at her, Zelda froze. She waved her hand to quickly dismiss her unguarded words. A recognition sparked between her and Link at this, and Zelda froze again. Her hand fell into her lap in defeat.

‘Yes. Things are still very much the same.’

Link’s eyes widened again, his quiet disbelief deepening even more at this acknowledgement.

‘I don’t blame you for leaving,’ said Zelda. ‘I know I’d already left you behind. I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this, I just ... I don’t think I could have stopped it, even if I’d wanted to.’ She paused, her stomach fluttering from the bare words that left her. It didn’t feel bad, she realised. Not good, perhaps, but needed, like a salve. ‘It’s becoming more and more clear to me that we were both simply … surviving our success. Getting through it in what ways we could, or knew how. We still are.’ She paused again, frowning to herself. ‘It’s not helping either of us.’

Link was very still. He watched her, his brow slightly furrowing again, and he waited. But weariness was creeping up on Zelda now. She planted her elbows onto the table and sank her forehead into her hands. She was quiet for a long moment, and then she gave a helpless laugh. She looked up at Link and his open mouth of surprise. ‘In saying that, I must admit - I have no idea what to do from here.’

She laughed again despite herself, relieved to have said it out loud. It was the first proper laugh in Link’s company since the Calamity, since one of the early journeys with the Champions, when they’d all been together, and Link’s eyes widened in recognition of this. A tiny smile tugged his lips in return.

They were quiet for a long while at the table, Zelda settling her head back into one hand, and Link sitting back, his eyes shyly glancing to Zelda in quick intervals as he confirmed and reconfirmed for himself that she really was there, not quite ready to believe his eyes. Her head mercifully empty of thought for the moment, Zelda listened as wind rolled in through the open door, bringing merry voices with it from the village. Her ears couldn’t help but prick. It had been too long since she’d heard such a happy gathering of Hylians.

‘I can see why you’d make a home here,’ she murmured. Her cheeks warmed. ‘And I’m sorry to have intruded so rudely. I can go. I will.’ Zelda blushed harder. She struggled to meet Link’s eye, settling for his shoulder instead. ‘Unless you might want some company while you’re here?’

Link stared at her in response. Zelda twisted away, feeling foolish to have even suggested it. Then Link’s chair creaked. Zelda gasped as he pulled her into a hug. For a moment it was Mipha’s arms cradling her close, and Zelda grimaced against the familiarity. Her eyes grew wet. But as Link started to release her from his awkward grasp, Zelda leaned into the hug. ‘Thank you.’ She shifted, wrapping her arms around Link too, tentative at first, and then tighter. ‘It’s nice not to feel alone.’

‘What do you think?’ said Zelda.

Link considered the bowl in his hands and the soup within’s distinctly green tinge. He mustered up a weak smile. 

‘I suppose it’s a bit of an acquired taste,’ said Zelda. ‘Even for myself. But you need to get your health back.’ She swallowed another mouthful from her bowl and then paused to consider it. ‘Who could have guessed that vegetable cream soup would handle the flavour of Hearty Lizard so well?’

Link shook his head in bemusement.

A rug swayed behind them in the breeze, hung from a makeshift clothesline between the trees around Link’s house. Tunics and trousers fluttered beside the rug, dangling over chairs and chests, bookshelves and paintings, everything that could possibly be carried. Zelda and Link had even managed to squeeze the table through the door, leaving the house bare and drying from its intensive clean, the windows left open to banish the last of the grim air.

Zelda set her empty bowl down in the grass beside her and stretched her aching arms. She and Link could have sat in the chairs, admittedly, but there was something pleasant about the grass. It reminded her of the time she’d put Mipha’s advice to use and caught a Hot-Footed Frog for Link to try. He’d been as enthusiastic about the frog as he’d been with the soup.

Zelda smiled to herself. A weight was lifting inside her - one she hadn’t even noticed was there. Again. That lightness … this is how it’s supposed to feel, she reminded herself.

But all too quickly, Zelda’s neck started to prickle. She could sense them like eyes on her back - the Champions’ weapons. Zelda glanced over to where they sat against the tree. The late afternoon sun caught the ruby of Urbosa’s Daybreaker, blinking in the corner of Zelda’s eye as she looked away. Zelda toyed with her boot, needlessly adjusting its straps, until her eye drew back to the tree. The Lightscale Trident’s hanging gems swayed faintly in the breeze. Zelda stared hard at the trident. A heaviness returned in her chest, but she didn’t try to fight it.

The faint rhythm of hoofbeats pulled her gaze to the road into Hateno Village. Zelda’s eyes narrowed. A rider approached, disappearing into the woods below the mountain as Zelda craned her neck. Link looked pointedly to her.

‘It’s nothing,’ said Zelda, settling back down. She spoke truthfully but her pulse still quickened. If neither Paya nor Cado had come for her yet, she mused, it could only mean that Impa had bidden them not to. No doubt she’d trusted that when Zelda and Link were together, no harm would likely befall them. Not in Hateno Village, at least. But Zelda knew the peace could only last so long, and it was that thought that concerned her.

Zelda looked to Link again. He stared grimly into his bowl, concerned by more than its contents, Zelda gathered. There was no point reassuring him - she’d told him she hadn’t come to drag him away, and she’d meant it. But that wouldn’t stop Hyrule from needing to drag her away instead.

Zelda’s forehead sank into her hands. It would be cruel to leave Link behind, but all the planning, the consulting, and negotiating - the maps and reports and letters - none of that was going to go away. What sort of life was Link going to lead if he came back with her? Could she truly promise to him that things would be different this time? She couldn’t promise that even for herself.

Zelda fought back a groan, anxious not to concern Link further. The long grass swayed around her in the breeze, tickling her knees, and she closed her eyes. She was going to travel across Hyrule, Zelda thought to herself. They were going to visit all the places Mipha had never seen. It had all been very simple, once.

Link’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. ‘I’m alright,’ said Zelda, before her head had even fully lifted. ‘I was just thinking, that’s all.’

Link withdrew his hand, watching her still, a familiar flicker of disappointment crossing his face. Zelda bit her lip. ‘I suppose that’s not quite the truth.’

Link waited, not expectant, but quietly hopeful. Zelda let out a low breath.

‘There was something I wanted to do after the Calamity. Mipha and I … she’d wanted to see the different regions of Hyrule, and I was so excited to show her. I suppose a part of me still thinks it will happen, or at least, can’t accept that it won’t.’ Her shoulders sagged. ‘It really meant a lot, all those years ago.’

Link’s hand returned to Zelda’s shoulder. Zelda smiled faintly, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him as her smile vanished. ‘It’s not just that. I’m worried, Link. Sidon is very eager to create another alliance with the tribes of Hyrule. It’s a good idea. There’s a lot we could do to help him, too. But … it’s going to mean reckoning with all the people whose Champions we took. I know most won’t even recall who they are, but …’ She glanced to the Champions’ weapons by the tree. ‘We know. We know what we’ve lost. And our friends would want us to look past that. I know that too. But I don’t know how to do it.’ Zelda’s head sank back into her hand. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

Link’s grip stayed on Zelda for a moment, and then left as he struggled to his feet. Zelda looked up, surprised as Link went to where the Champions’ weapons sat and stood there, considering them. She watched closely as he picked up the Lightscale Trident. She’d taken care not to touch it during its journey from the house to the tree, though she’d watched Link like a hawk as he carried it. Now Link was carrying it back to her, and Zelda shrank back in alarm.

Link stopped before Zelda and held out the trident for her to take. Zelda stared up at his expectant expression, her mouth opening, and then her eyes slowly lowered to the Lightscale Trident. The weapon gleamed, its dangling gems swaying and catching the light as they always did. Zelda grew limp. There was a chance, however small, she imagined, that Mipha might still speak to her. Even if Mipha didn’t, she could still hold the trident in her hands just as Mipha had, matching where her fingers had always curled, connected, however distantly, once more.

Her fingers tingled, but Zelda managed to look away, pressing her fingers regretfully to her lips instead.

Link hastily stepped back at this. Zelda managed to gather herself and watched as Link, undeterred, brought the trident to the edge of the grassy flat instead. He pointed the trident north. Zelda frowned, struggling to follow.

Still undeterred, Link returned to the tree. He picked up Urbosa’s Daybreaker instead and brought it past a pond to the further edge of the grassy flat. He waggled the shield and pointed across to the western mountains on the horizon. He pointed to Zelda, then to himself, then back west … in the direction of the Gerudo Highlands.

Zelda’s frown lifted. ‘You want to take it back?’

Link nodded. Zelda was still, surprised again. Link returned the shield to the tree, and Zelda watched as he carefully brushed a blade of grass from the shield’s underside. How he’d managed it, having them so close all this time, she could barely fathom. But the heaviness in her chest started to subside a little the longer she gazed at the weapons. ‘Home again,’ she murmured. ‘Back to their people.’

Link’s hands fell limp to his side. He gave a small nod, and then looked back to Zelda with a faint smile. Zelda tried her best to return it.

‘I think that would be a good start.’

With that plan now hovering above them, Link returned to the grass beside Zelda. Their tentative smiles wavered. Though grateful, Zelda found she couldn’t look at him, and Link didn’t look at her either. They gazed out over the woods below, retreating back into themselves, trying to imagine with some trepidation, now, what it would look like to actually follow through with such a plan.

It would be difficult enough to visit the Rito, and the Gorons, and the Gerudo, thought Zelda, let alone return to Zora’s Domain, trident suddenly in hand, as though that would excuse anything. Her cheeks were already draining at the thought of what polite, disappointed words King Dorephan would have for her. Sidon, no doubt, would still trip over himself to apologise as though he himself were the one to blame, and that was even worse. What would she say to them both? How could she possibly explain herself?

Zelda’s pulse quickened again as her thoughts raced. That sinking feeling was growing, and there was nothing to cling to this time. She tried to let out a slow breath, reminding herself that she had to keep going forward - stumbling forward, if she must. This path was the only way out.

Zelda told herself this again and felt herself tremble in answer. She looked desperately to Link beside her and found him lost in his own troubled thoughts, his face bearing a similar anguish. Zelda reached up, hesitating for a moment, and then touched his arm.

‘When we’re ready.’

It was a statement, but also a question. Link answered with a small nod, and Zelda watched as relief settled on his face the longer her words sank in. She felt her own worry ease in turn, lighter now, if just a little. She nodded as well, squeezing Link’s arm for reassurance. But her mouth became a thin line as she looked away.

When they were ready - it was all she could say, for now. And when she woke tomorrow, when her exhaustion had eased, and she had to remind herself where she was, and why her heart still ached so bitterly - the hope behind those words was no longer going to feel certain.

But, she’d find a way to get through it, Zelda reminded herself. She must. For all that Impa’s last words to her still stung, she also needed them to be true. She wanted to honour Mipha’s final request of them all. She wanted to try her best.

If she tried, she could still make the journey with Mipha - not as planned, not as hoped, but she could try to see Hyrule through her eyes, the way she’d never gotten to appreciate for herself. She could try to see herself through Mipha’s eyes, and then perhaps learn a better way to be.

In time, at least. When she was ready. As far as it felt, they could still do it together.

A painful smile wavered on Zelda’s lips. She looked to Link again, hand still on his arm, reassuring them both, and wondered if she was already changing.

Perhaps, when she and Link were ready, she could start being the friend to him she wanted to be. She could let Link be the friend he wanted to be. Perhaps they’d be able to finally talk about everything unsaid between them, and unasked, and lessen their burdens one by one.

Perhaps, one day, they could even talk about Mipha - the Mipha that they had known.