Memories came so rarely nowadays that Link had grown comfortable knowing he wasn't the same anymore. The young woman who walked each step next to him was a name and a face he knew by title, but not a confident that he had anymore. She was a shadow - a ghost even - but he still went along with her in an attempt of keeping who he was.
The Link before didn't smile, Zelda had once said to him quietly, folding a quilted blanket over herself as they sat by the campfire. She couldn't have predicted the turmoil such a small fact would bring, but Link's heart grew heavier with that knowledge. He knew his poker-face had hurt people he couldn't make amendments with, and he knew his newly expressive features made Zelda squirm.
The Link before didn't talk, Zelda had giggled to herself behind a gloved hand, listening to how Link spoke with the locals sitting around the crockpot. The stable at the base of Rito Village was lively that evening, rich with culture so alien to the newly freed princess, that just served to intrigue her more. She loved hearing how thick each syllable sounded on Link's tongue as he spoke to match with the stable owner, noting how he had adopted the slang and terminology the locals had developed over the century - all whilst confusing them with older words. Not that Zelda had a different effect on the locals, but Link's was grander to poke fun at.
The stable had fallen into heretics later in the evening - a child having fallen into the river below, black and blue from the fall. Zelda would have assisted in the aftermath, but Link had been the one to care for the little girl as if it was habitual. The Link before did have a family - a father and sister, Zelda had confided late in the night. Zelda gave a name, a description, and even a back story - Link couldn't remember Aryll's chubby cheeks, nor her blue eyes. Couldn't hear the voice that Zelda spoke of, the softly spoken girl mimicking her father and brothers stern, crisp tones. He couldn't see her, not even in the girl that slept in his arms. Zelda told him to look in a mirror, and puff his cheeks out. "She looked just like you, did you know? Much prettier of course…" She had said in reassurance, but It didn't help ease the pain.
Up the winding path to Rito Village, Zelda had decided to fill the silence by 'blessing' Link with a historical lecture. The Link before had grown used to hearing about his ancestors the second his hand had managed to break the sword free - not that he remembered any of it.
She had spoken of the Hero of Wind, a brother himself she was quick to point out, describing the flooding of Hyrule, the rebellious princess, and the acclaimed Captain that assisted him in the last stretch of his heroic duties. She spoke of the Hero of Twilight, and even showed him through the slate where they believed his old village may have laid years and years ago, fondly reciting poems as if she'd only read them yesterday. Link hadn't paid much attention, but Zelda had assured she had Link's attention by telling the tale of the Hero of Time. The hero that Link had been studying prior to the Calamity, that had inspired him to pick up a bit of the flute, in a bid to learn the Ocarina he had claimed.
At the gates of Rito Village, Link felt hollow. None of this brought memories, but rather a searing pain as he realised that out of his highly esteemed ancestors - he was the one who had failed his duties.
Passing under the melancholy shadow of Vah Medoh left an itch in Link's fingers, a deja vu violently thrumming in his mind as the wind whistled and the music played in unison - a familiar, but odd sensation that haunted him every time he wandered up the spiral staircase. It was Zelda who had noticed it at the Inn that evening, reaching over and gently curling her hands around his. The Link before never fidgeted as a knight, but as a boy it was common to find crescents biting his calloused skin, a hand coaxing wild splayed hair down, and eyebrows that pinched, accentuating impassioned eyes. Zelda knew him now just as she had learnt to know him before, and the very next day slid a small flute into his hands, jesting about the music her companion once played. When Link blew, his muscle memory directed his fingers into developing a soft tune unlike any neither Link, nor Zelda had heard before. The song was different in sound - not the mystifying harp that Zelda spoke of in fondness, nothing akin to the haunting echoing of the Zora singing bowls, nor the heavy drums of the Gorons, but rather an airy and natural sound that carried in the wind and melted with the atmosphere.
The sound brought curious attraction to himself, as Teba rounded the corner, watching Link against the railing - lost in a moment on Revali's Landing, completely oblivious to the tune he had just sung for the village.
The Link before must of had a lover, Teba had stubbornly insisted, with Zelda herself at a loss of words. He still didn't entirely believe Link's true age, nor his convenient amnesia - but he knew exactly what was just declared. The notes Link had played was a gentle courting song, blown with precision that must have been gained with practice, a whistling that could have only been taught by those aware of Rito culture. Teba didn't pry, only raising an eyebrow at Link's absolutely lost expression, but Zelda had insisted on knowing.
Every memory he had cemented the fact that the Link before did not like Rito village. An opinion that had changed after becoming accustomed to the locals, befriending members of the Rito tribe, numerous mornings waking up to the mountain ranges, and a change of heart from the deceased Champion. These opinions were all new - that's what this Link knew. But when he found himself playing the tune to the moon that evening, Kass sitting at his hip, an ache filled his chest and a chill ran up his shoulders. He had lost himself in nothing, and could only remember the colour green.
The news had travelled fast - Link had learned through Kass, that the 'grapevine' had done their work - a grapevine named Harth and in extension, Molli. But Link wasn't fussed - there was nothing to be excited about. If he had courted a young Rito back in the day, they'd have died a long time ago, and maybe it was better to be left forgetting them. The memories he had of Mipha hurt him enough, but to have to now be aware he had completely forgotten a lover? Link ached at the thought.
The color green had haunted him since. He didn't pick up the flute again.
Lunacy. It was a state of mind the Link now was sure the Link of before had experienced. A young boy being brought up like a prodigy, silenced from the eyes that followed him, and hated by the other two thirds of his very purpose - he was sure that mental instability had plagued him both before and now. But he hadn't felt like his very shadow was staring him down before. He hadn't ever felt phantom grazes on his arms, nor heard shuffling around before, considering how alone he and Zelda were inside of Vah Medoh. Had they interrupted Revali some how? But he'd have passed on, Link was certain, and the arrogant Rito would have most definitely taken advantage of the chance to speak to the Princess again.
Link wrung the woven straps of the small bag Saki had gifted him before Zelda and himself worked their way up to Vah Medoh, fiddling with the green thread between the leather. Saki had been shocked to know Link knew how to knot his pouch up, claiming that perhaps his 'descendant' had learnt it and retaught it to his ancestors along the line. After all, it was an ancient Rito technique - but it had only been instinct, Link assured himself, instinct and nothing more. Despite the complexity of the design, Link had thought of it as a relatively simple braid, strong and sturdy and yet filled with character. The jade carvings rattled with each movement, and reminded him of the green that ebbed into his vision no matter where he looked, the fixed beads on the draw strings reminiscing a gorgeous shade of green and blue when the light hit against them. Maybe green was just his colour? It wouldn't be the first time someone had commented such, and the Rito did have a keen eye after all.
"She's still working in perfect condition, amazing isn't it? I have no idea what Teba does, he's so busy with Tulin I didn't even imagine the insides would be cleaned so well. Considering you had to bleed everywhere." With an accusing finger, Zelda turned to look at Link, a firm grin on her face despite the absolute cruelty of the comment that dripped from her tongue. After a century of silence, she just had to talk - anything to fill the years of silence. The sound of her own voice was comfort when it echoed back and didn't fall into a silent void, and even if the new expressions Link displayed had caught her off guard, it was a welcoming fact that she wasn't alone. "It's almost untouched. Revali would have appreciated that, I'd imagine. I heard they held a ceremony, when they found…"
"They burn White Sage in here every quarter moon. They honor it for him." He had only ever once attended the ceremony, unable to bring himself to do so again. On an invitation from Kass, Link had attended with a relatively positive impression, interested in the small artefacts Teba had recovered on his first sweep through Vah Medoh as it's new protector. Small artefacts that were simply too small for the famed archer he'd claimed, and by his flawed logic meant it had to be Link's. It came as a rude shock when Link light-heartedly explained how young and petite Revali had been, but maybe it was an excuse to not feel so suffocated in the winged bird. Anything to not feel the weight of the recovered headdress in his hands, made delicately of glass beads and a dark blue feather, reflecting a soft hue along the stone walls of the hollow carcass of a once beautiful mechanic beast.
Link would have claimed that silence filled the air after his quiet admission, but all he could hear was the quiet lull of the song he had played earlier, whistling amongst the wind. The gentleness and the perfection, humming around the beast, yet falling deaf on Zelda's ears. The walls that evening weren't a beautiful blue reflection like there had been before, but instead glistening green embers strayed just out of plain view.
The old Link had been embraced by blue- the new Link had been haunted by green.