I really, really love Breath of the Wild, but I cannot say I own it any further than simply possessing a copy of the game. The Legend of Zelda and all its characters and places belongs to Nintendo. You may find a few little spoilers for the game herein, but I think nothing major. Need I say that this story will likely have more meaning if you've played Breath of the Wild?

The spendidly amazing cover art of Link and his father is by Suneia! Check out a larger version of this work and more on the artist's tumblr, headphonesuneia.

Character of a Hero - by Pseudo Twili

"Prisoner escaped!"

That shout brought the attention of all within range of the booming voice, and within seconds the prison grounds were as alive as freshly disturbed anthill. Horo, the head guard of the prison, kicked his desk, declared everyone an incompetent fool, and ground his teeth when he considered what a mess he was in. Between all this he growled orders to search the prison and the woods around it, to double the men on the bridge, and to post guards on all sides of the island. The other prisoners watched quietly from their cells and each wished he were as fortunate as the escapee. Cards, rupees and beverages sat forgotten upon the wardroom tables as every man turned out. The youngest guard, the one at the bottom of the pecking order, scurried to the castle to make a report.

"His Majesty isn't going to like this," captain of the guard, Quave, muttered darkly. Jerking his head toward the messenger, he snapped, "Get out of here! And find that prisoner if you hope to keep your position!"

A worthy leader of men would dishonor himself if he sent someone else to do a job he was loath to do himself; as such, Quave straightened the sword at his hip, put on his helmet, and marched to the prison with more of his men. Sending them off to help in the search, he stared Horo down while demanding an accounting. A while later he was back at the castle, waiting for a footman to deliver his message to the king in the dining hall.

King Rhoam's sharp, eagle-like eyes were fixed upon his captain as he approached. "I hope you have a good reason for disturbing my meal, Captain."

Quave leaned near the king's ear. "My apologies Your Majesty, but it is very important. That prisoner—the one involved with Minister Uron's death—has escaped."

The king's gray eyebrows lowered further. "I gather from your hesitancy that the prisoner is still at large."

"Yes, Sire," Quave replied, striving to keep from barking his annoyance while in his sovereign's presence. "My men are still searching. One of them reported he saw a boy in the area just an hour before they discovered the prisoner gone. At this moment the boy and his father are on their way from the garrison and he will tell us what he knows. Rest assured, we will find the prisoner, Sire."

"See that you do, Captain. Bring me a report in an hour."

"Your Majesty," said Quave, bowing.

His armor clanking minutely, he retreated from the room filled with all the smells of a delectable meal, knowing that his own dinner would of necessity have to be put off for a while yet. Upon returning to his chambers he saw guard and boy waiting just outside his door.

"Come!" the captain snapped.

Marching to his desk, he threw himself in his chair and glowered while the guard, a man named Rankin, approached with one hand firmly clasped to the boy's shoulder. Quave took in the child's appearance with one glance; his tawny hair was unkempt and surely uncombed for days, his clothes a bit too large for his skinny body, his shaking knees were bare and grass-stained and his hands rough, and yet he held himself with the straight and stoic air of a soldier.

"This is your boy, Rankin?" he questioned, briefly shifting his gaze to the father.

"Yes sir."

"Your name, boy," Quave demanded, once more staring hard and fixedly at the child who, he'd decided, couldn't be much more than half past his eighth birthday.

"Link…um, sir," he replied. His father nudged him and he raised his head to meet Quave's gaze.

The captain was satisfied to see the fear and uncertainty lingering in those blue eyes, yet at the same time he was unsure of what to make of the determined set of the child's features. With just those few words out of the boy's mouth, he was plagued with the knowledge that the escapee would not so easily be caught. Quickly brushing those negative thoughts under the carpet of his mind, he leaned forward and brought his gauntleted fist to the surface of his desk.

"Were you at the prison today, boy?"

Link started at the sudden motion. Instead of answering, he pressed his lips closer together as he continued to stare at the captain, whom the boy thought had hair that looked exactly like pepper. Just thinking about pepper made him feel like sneezing.

"Captain Quave asked you a question, Link," Rankin said, his tone bearing an edge. He shook his son by the shoulder. "Answer him!"

"…Yes."

The sardonic twist of the captain's lips could in no way be considered a smile. "And do you know Vrena, the prisoner who has escaped?" He eyed the boy even more carefully, searching for any sort of reaction.

Link nodded and then remembered that he was supposed to speak. "Yes, sir."

Quave boomed suddenly, causing Link to jump again, "Did you help her escape? Answer me! Where is the prisoner?"

The boy tried to hide his trembling hands behind his back, but then thrust them down at his sides. He lowered his head, his eyes attached to the worn paneling at the bottom of the captain's desk and the wooden floor beneath it. His mouth firmly shut, he held his tongue between his teeth. He knew the captain was staring at him intensely enough to paralyze and he didn't dare look up.

"Answer me, boy!" Quave barked, rising to his feet.

"I…" Link stammered as he swallowed his heart lodged in his throat. "I can't tell you."

He could feel the captain looming near as he growled, "That prisoner is a dangerous criminal, judged guilty in the minister's death. By keeping silent you are abetting a traitor, an enemy to the crown! Do you know what happens to anyone who helps such a person?"

Link pulled his fingers into fists in a fruitless attempt to keep them from shaking. His lip trembled. Even with his father's hand still upon his shoulder he could draw no comfort from it; he felt as small and as alone as he would be if he were the last person left in the world. He knew he was in big trouble and it was much, much worse than the time he had fallen into Zora River and nearly drowned.

Rankin's voice, sounding over his head, held all the sharp sternness he usually reserved for errant trainees. "Link, loosen that tongue of yours and tell the captain what you know! This will not go lightly on you!"

Drawing a halting breath, the boy dared to look at Quave again. "She didn't do anything!" he exclaimed, but his words came out with a tremor and much softer than he intended. "She…she shouldn't be in prison."

Captain Quave's face, which Link had first thought resembled the color of a perfectly cooked bird leg, was now like the inside of a rarely done steak. The man advanced upon him and Link shrank back, afraid that he would strike him.

"So you think this is a game, do you?! Boy, I'll show you what sort of game this is!"

"Are you going…to put me in prison?" he queried, his voice nearly hidden in his gulping breaths.

"Not yet," the captain replied, darkly. "You are going up on the walls and keep watch with the guards. If you fall asleep they will wake you. You will remain there until I send for you in the morning, then we'll see how talkative you feel." It was a common punishment the castle guards faced if they incurred their captain's wrath.

Link's lip trembled before he pulled it against his teeth. Not a sound escaped him as he quit the room with his father. Perhaps worst of all was his father's silence. Link knew Rankin had to be terribly disappointed and ashamed of him. That knowledge, coupled with his own misery and shame, made him want to crawl deep into a hole and never come out until everyone was gone.

Another guard took charge of the boy, allowing Rankin to return to his duties at the garrison. Link watched his father stride down the corridor, away from him without a backward glance, and felt like the last familiar thing had slipped through his fingers and he couldn't even reach out for him. His heart pounded so thunderously that he placed a hand over it, wondering fearfully if it could possibly beat right out of his chest.

It seemed as though word of the escape and of his rumored part in it had flown from mouth to mouth as if by sparrows' wings. Once up on the castle's walls, Link immediately felt the hostility in the glances and silence directed his way. The guard who'd been guiding him pushed him up the last few steps and departed just as quickly. No one told him where he should stand and so he took a spot in a corner, staring at the sight of Castle Town below him and he wore the forlorn expression of one who feels abandoned. He even wished for his father's disapproving silence over that of his current companions.

The sun painted Castle Town in its rosy and gold glow on its descent into the horizon. With darkness also came a chill wind which set Link to shivering and teeth-chattering. He pushed his hands up his sleeves and huddled in his spot, thinking of what he'd done.

He thought of the woman Vrena, of the way she always let him sneak bits from her cooking, of how she always had a scrap to spare and an encouraging word for anyone who needed it, of the way she allowed no petty politics in her kitchen, and of how she reminded him of his mother, though as a Sheikah, Vrena looked nothing like her. He thought of how frightened she'd looked through the crack he'd found in the rock of the prison wall, and how tired and defeated she'd sounded after the grueling questioning and then the trial. She hadn't told him that she hadn't poisoned the king's minister, he had known it already. He had offered his help, and after weeks of imprisonment, with all hope for the trial gone, she finally told him to bring her the handle of her smallest kettle, so she could pick the lock. She had been watching the schedules of the guards and knew there was half a minute in which she could probably slip through without detection.

Link had told her she could conceal herself in the nearby forest or in some hidden spot along the river, until everyone realized she hadn't done anything wrong. It was a very childish idea he realized even then, but more than anything else he was afraid that she would be executed. Shivering up there on the castle wall, feeling like he was hundreds of miles from a familiar face, he wondered if Vrena was still hiding away and if she'd found the satchel of food he'd secreted for her in the small hollow of a tree. His own stomach grumbled like an imminent thunderstorm.

The guards, who normally would have covered for a friend snatching a few winks on the job, had no charitable inclinations toward the boy. They knew he had some part in the escape and blamed him for the extra shifts which were a result of it. Whenever Link started nodding, one of them was always there to shake him roughly, or to prod him with the hilt of a spear.

Though a change of guards came by every four hours, none of them treated him differently. They ordered him heedlessly and seemed to take pleasure in sending him walking from one corner to another. He obeyed without word because he knew royal guards were supposed to follow their orders without question and without complaint; his father was always reminding him of that during their practice sessions. And so he tripped between crenellations, stopping to rest whenever he could, until one of the men told him to move on. The activity made him warmer, but he was so drowsy he could barely keep his eyes open and several times he stumbled.

At one point—he wasn't sure if it was still the deep of night or early morning—he lifted his half closed eyes heavenward and wondered sleepily if his mother was watching him from her place amongst the thousands of stars. His father frowned on such ideas, but all the stories Link had heard about the spirits of the dearly departed watching over those they loved were immensely comforting. He often wondered if her spirit was contented up there. He missed her so much, missed her hugs and the way she smelled of horses and spices, missed the way she always told him how proud she was of him, missed her silly jokes and how she could always make both her husband and son smile and sometimes laugh.

A shooting star beamed across the sky, bringing a little thrill to his heart. An old Zora had once told him that shooting stars were very lucky and under the right circumstances someone who saw it would have his desire granted. One night several months back, he and his friends had slipped away and climbed to a peak shining with luminous stones; seeing a shooting star over the ocean, they had all wished that Link wouldn't have to move away.

"I wish you were here, Mother…" he whispered, his lips barely forming the words.

He closed his eyes for a moment and he imagined his father chastising him for such a foolish desire. No one could wish the dead to life! There was something more important than that right now, wasn't there? His sleep-deprived mind groped for the answer as a soft breeze caressed his eyelids and whispered a lullaby in his ear. His head drooped as he leaned against the wall, his head entering the land of dreams while his feet were still planted on the stone of the castle battlement. His moment of peace lasted only a half-minute before a hand descended on him.

"Wake up there, you! Keep moving along!"

Link jerked up and stumbled. The prod reminded him of the reason he sought and he amended his wish, "…Please don't let them find Vrena…"

As time wore on Link grew more and more dazed, hardly keeping track of where he was. Afterwards, he hardly remembered anything, except that every once in a while he would take a peek through his eyelashes to the eastern sky, expecting to see the beginnings of the blush that would bring the dawn. He wasn't sure, however, if he wanted the morning to come so his sleepless ordeal would be over, or if he dreaded it because he knew not what it would bring him.

When the sun rose, it cast its brightest beams into the cracks of his eyelids with cheery abandon. He'd never thought sunlight was so bright before, not even when it shone directly on the rivers and lakes of Zoras' Domain. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get his eyes to open fully and he blinked almost constantly.

The guard who came to fetch him had to hold Link by the arm, as he nearly fell down the stairs. The boy was not aware of where they were going and he mumbled something about going to sleep. Then they stopped moving. He thought he heard his father's voice, but his eyes, which felt like they were stuck with the gooiest sap, would not cooperate with his desire to open them. He wondered distantly if he was back in the captain's office, but the little bit of floor that he could see was covered in carpet. He heard voices speaking as if from the other end of a deep, deep well, but he was having trouble thinking what they meant.

"So this is the boy?"

"Yes, Sire. He refused to answer about the prisoner."

"He is asleep on his feet and of no use in questioning now. Let him sleep and then bring him back."

"But, Your Majesty…"

"Do not argue with me, Captain. Keep a watch on him so he too does not escape."

"A-as you wish, Sire."

Hands led Link away and again he heard his father's voice, this time much closer.

"Go to sleep, son," Rankin said.

The boy found himself on a cot; he would have thought it to be the most heavenly thing he could imagine, except he was asleep while he was still sitting up. His father eased his head down. He looked upon his boy for a few seconds, shook his head and then quit the room.

Meanwhile, the search for the convicted prisoner continued as furiously as before. For the tenth time the guards swatted through the forest next to the prison, grumbling all the while. Since the escape, both banks of the river were so closely watched that not even a dragonfly was able to cross the waters unnoticed and all the fish found less fearsome waters to inhabit. Captain Quave fumed and barked at everyone, head prison guard Horo paced, fretted, and cast nervous looks toward his superior, and Rankin asked to be let off from his usual duties at the garrison so he could help in the search.

Link wakened later in the afternoon by jolting up from the cot. Glancing around frantically, he was only slightly relieved that he was not in a cell. Someone soon discovered he was awake and told him to remain as he was until the king summoned him. A pinch-faced woman brought him a sorry plate of food and he was so nervous he ate it without tasting or enjoying it.

Appearing before the king again, Link was flanked by two guards who did not open their mouths. The boy lost track of how many times he felt like he'd swallowed his tongue. As they approached, King Rhoam was speaking to his chancellor about the excavations under way in different areas of the kingdom. The two guards bowed deeply and Link fell to his knees as his eyes sought the floor.

The king turned in his chair. "How old are you, boy?"

"I-I'm nine, sir. Your Majesty."

"And I suppose you want to become a knight like your father?"

Link nodded wordlessly, too afraid that if he spoke his throat would produce no more than a squeak. The floor, though carpeted, ate away at his bare knees.

"Look at me, boy."

Trembling, he obeyed the king's command, raising his eyes to meet deep green ones. King Rhoam's expression was stern and regal and terrifying all at once. His sharp eyes and considerable nose were rather like a magnificent, stately sort of bird. Like a lion he had a thick head of hair and beard reaching down to his chest, except unlike a tawny lion's mane his hair was all gray, rapidly turning white.

"There is no room in the ranks for a knight who tries to hide a traitor. If you persist in your stubbornness you will never become a knight. Is that clear?"

Again Link nodded, but a prod from one of the guards standing behind him made him open his mouth. "I-I understand, Your Majesty," he whispered. He felt as though a cold hand had taken hold of his heart and kept it in a viselike grip, slowly tightening. His fondest dream was to become a royal guard like his father, to be useful, to protect Hyrule, to make his father so proud he wouldn't know what to say. He couldn't give that up, he couldn't!

"I command you to tell me: where is the prisoner, Vrena?"

Vrena! The name ricocheted in Link's mind. He felt like throwing himself on the floor, covering his eyes and ears, and to scream and bawl, anything to silence the voice in his mind. Instead he remained quite still, his jaw quivering as his eyes were held captive by the king's imperial gaze.

"Speak!"

He knew he was supposed to obey the king above all others. His parents had always taught him to be respectful and subservient to elders and superiors; his father always obeyed the orders given him, and they were ultimately from the king. His parents had also instilled in him the virtue of being faithful to one's friends and family and never to break a promise. He had promised to help Vrena, he'd promised! If he betrayed her, they would take her and put her back in prison. They would hang her and he was the only one who knew she was innocent.

"Link, for goddess' sake, speak out!" came his father's voice, somewhere behind and to the side. It was peculiar, as Rankin was a very reserved individual who rarely made any sort of protest in the presence of others, and never before superiors.

The boy's lips parted slightly, but his answer was stillborn and even he didn't know what he was trying to say. His tongue seemed to fill his mouth like a wad of cotton. His mind, his every instinct, his whole being screamed at him to tell, to tell all and stop being so cursedly foolish! But something kept him back.

He had once been tempted by someone who seemed to be a friend to steal ten rupees from his mother's pocket money, but he could not go through with it when he thought of how upset and disappointed she'd be. The supposed friend had left him with disgust showing in eerie red eyes, while Link went to his mother and confessed what he'd almost done. It was one of the few times he had seen her so serious. "Never do something that you know, deep down in your soul, is wrong," she'd said. Then she'd kissed him and told him how proud she was of him.

The air in the room was so charged with silence that it pressed unbearably on the boy. The experience could be likened to being trapped in a tomb, except that all the eyes fixed on him were quite alive. Every gaze pierced him like so many icy daggers.

"I-I…" he gasped. "…I can't…tell. I-I promised…"

King Rhoam didn't blink as his whole expression turned graver. "Then you must be prepared to take the prisoner's place."

A noise like a half stifled, undiscernible exclamation sounded behind Link. The boy lowered his head as if it was too heavy to hold up anymore. He felt as empty as a flour barrel left on the rubbish heap. His heart, which was somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes, was as heavy as a goron's dinner and he was simply too numb to think anymore.

"I do not say this lightly," the king said. He was all too aware that the boy was only a little older than his own beloved daughter. "I will not allow anyone, be it man, woman or child, to flaunt the laws given to us by our goddesses. Take him to the prison."

The same two guards stepped forward, hauled Link to his feet and propelled him from the room. Exiting one of the castle's side gates, they crossed the moat bridge and hailed the watchman at the prison gate.

"The king says to lock this one up," said the guard on Link's right.

"Yeah, ha-hah! Give him a nice cozy little cell!" chuckled the other. "Hey, you'd better keep a watch on him or he might escape too!"

"You two can go throw yourselves into Death Mountain!" snapped the watchman. Grabbing the boy, he pulled him inside the gate and then let it fall with a resounding clatter. "This one won't be escaping, we'll see to that."

A minute later, someone else was none too gently guiding Link down the steep steps leading to the depths of the prison. With the only discernable light coming from the spluttering flame of a lantern, the boy could hardly see, so he was half dragged along stone corridors which reeked of must and other distinctly distasteful odors. Stopping at one of the regular indentations of the unrelenting walls, the guard unbolted a door, pushed Link forward, and then closed and locked it with a bang and a rattle.

Scrambling backward until his back hit the wall, the boy drew his arms about his knees and lowered his head as he tried to convince himself it was all a dream. One peek into the smothering darkness which surrounded him was enough to prove to himself the reality of his situation. He was alone in a prison cell, everyone in the castle, from King Rhoam to the pinch-faced new cook, was angry with him, he had no idea where Vrena was or how she fared, and most of all he was sure his father now hated him with the same passion with which his mother had loved him. With no one to see or hear, Link broke down, only his knees muffling the sound of his sobs.

When playing Breath of the Wild, the first time I found myself in Castle Town Prison I wandered through the forest on its one side, plucking the apples from their trees and snatching bird's eggs from nests. The random thought occurred to me that someone escaping from the prison could sustain himself for some time on the things I was gathering. (Nevermind the fact that the forest may not have been there 100 years before.) The next time I was at the prison and taking a little canter through the forest, I remembered what I had thought before and I started to consider more on it. What if there was an escaped prisoner who had a friend in a certain child? What if this child believed so strongly in the escapee's innocence that he would not tell what he knew? I liked the idea and started to imagine more of it. Then I had enough in my head that I had to begin writing it and now you can read the result. I do most fondly hope you enjoy it.

This story is about finished. I will continue to work at it and polish it up so it is at least satisfactory to a picky writer such as myself, and I will publish more every few days or so. I hope you, my dear reader, look forward to each chapter with as much enthusiasm as I have in sharing it with you. Bless you all, and until we meet again I am most humbly yours...

Published ~ 12-02-2017