Adrift in Time

Chapter 1- Apocalypse Dreams

Year of Bosphoramus 122 (?), 23rd Day of Romani.

I have been staring at this blank page for a few hours now. The sun has set and the moon has risen, and yet all I can do is sit here as time slips by.

I intend to begin a new journal. My father told me it is of great importance for the monarchs of Hyrule to keep one for historical records—so that those who live centuries after we have passed can glean wisdom from us. But I fear that I simply have no wisdom to offer.

Zelda took a deep breath, dipping the nib of her quill into the inkpot resting on the ornate wooden desk she sat at. To recollect her thoughts, she quickly catalogued the room around her: the hearth with a carved Sheikah eye above it. The red curtains covering the window that, when drawn back, would allow her a view of Kakariko Village's Goddess Statue and the warriors standing guard by the entrance to the house. The sleeping mat in the corner by the hearth, blankets still undisturbed. Zelda closed her eyes, and then set the nib to the paper once again.

It has been eight days since I arrived in Kakariko Village. A young man brought me here. A trader, I think—he carried his goods to allow me to ride on his donkey. I wish I had asked for his name.

I could scarcely believe that the village was so unchanged. It was as if it has been suspended in time during the Calamity. Adding to this sense of stasis was when I entered the gate and Impa greeted me—only it was not Impa, but her granddaughter. To my relief, I found that Impa is still alive, but so weathered by age that I scarcely recognised her. She asked me to explain what had happened…

Several tears splashed onto the ink, blurring it.

Ganon emerged early. It sensed Link's awakening, and I could not keep it from breaking free. Thankfully, the body it had been trying to create was incomplete, and Link disposed of it with ease. But Ganon… I cannot describe it. I could not seal it away, because it vanished before I could. I can still feel it whispering to me when I try to sleep.

Her writing grew more frantic, the elegant loops devolving into barely-legible scribbles.

Link did not know me. There was nothing behind his blue eyes—no spark of familiarity. It was as if I was looking into a dead man's face. He behaved like an animal as he fought the Calamity, defeating it through sheer instinct. When I approached him, he fled towards the Applean Forest, leaving me alone in the ruins of my former home. I can only wonder if I made a mistake by putting him into the Resurrection Shrine. Did I really save his life if he has no sense of humanity or the life he led before?

Zelda reached for the inkpot, bumping it with her knuckles. The pot tipped and smashed onto the floorboards, seeping into the grain. "Hylia," Zelda hissed, tearing out a page of her journal. She did her best to blot away the slivers of glass and ink, but a black stain remained.

A gentle knock came at the doorframe. "Your Highness? Are you alright?"

"Yes," said Zelda, exasperated. "I broke the inkpot."

A young, slim girl pushed aside the curtain covering the entrance to Zelda's room. It struck Zelda once again how much Impa's granddaughter resembled her—Paya had the same kind, soft brown eyes and heart-shaped face, although she stood a little taller than Impa ever had. She even styled her silvery hair the same way Impa had when she was young: half up in a knot atop her head. Paya knelt by the ink stain, carefully scrubbing the floorboards with a scrap of linen. Her cheeks were pink, which Zelda had grown used to by now. She had never known a young woman to be so bashful.

"I really ought to be more careful," said Zelda apologetically. "I'm not usually this clumsy…"

"Oh, it's really nothing, y-your Highness!" Paya shrilled, scrubbing even more furiously. "I haven't exactly been k-keeping your room clean as it is. If you'd like, I can also turn your bedding for you before you…" She trailed off, noticing that the blankets were untouched.

Zelda rubbed her wrists uncomfortably, making sure to close the journal before Paya could see her ramblings. "No, thank you. That's quite alright."

Paya bit her lip as she stood, gripping the ink-stained linen in both hands. "F-forgive me for being so forward… but have you gotten much sleep, Princess?"

None at all. Zelda could not close her eyes for more than a few minutes before she could hear Ganon murmuring to her in its arcane language that drove her to the edge of madness for so many years. She dropped her eyes, gripping her biceps.

Paya let out a squeak. "M-my apologies, Princess. It's really n-not my business, but Purah asked me to check in…"

Zelda let out a sigh. Purah, too, had been a surprise. While Zelda had expected Impa to be old and withered after one hundred years, if even still alive, nothing could have prepared her for the fact that her sister Purah had somehow become a child again. As she'd taken Zelda's vitals, she had cheerfully informed her of the reverse-aging experiment that really, as Purah pointed out, had succeeded—although she hadn't meant to become six years old.

"Does Purah have any news about the Shrine of Resurrection or the Sheikah Slate?"

Paya shook her head, turning even pinker. "Not yet. Until we find Master Link, she has no way of reopening the shrine or retrieving the Slate. Without a diagnostic of Master Link's mental capacities or a way to examine the shrine, all she can do is hypo… hyp…"

"Hypothesise."

Paya turned an even deeper shade of pink. "Y-yes."

Zelda pulled back the curtain covering the window, peering out into the night. The guards were just changing shifts, their white clothing seeming to glow in the moonlight. Nearby, she knew, were Sheikah ninjas, dressed in dark armour designed to muffle all sound. They were there only because of her.

But who was she now, really? Her title of Princess was meaningless after one hundred years—bitterly, she recalled, the rumours of her being an "heir to a throne of nothing" had come true. The Hylians she supposedly now ruled were scattered in camps and stables throughout the wilderness, and the other races had already considered the royal family more of a figurehead even one hundred years ago.

Zelda let the curtain fall, realising that Paya was still there and had spoken to her. "I'm sorry—can you repeat that?"

Paya clasped her hands, wringing them above her chest. "Um… if you don't wish to retire yet… Would you like some tea, Princess?"

"Yes, please."

She followed the Sheikah girl downstairs to the simple kitchen, taking a seat on one of the cushions at the low table. She watched as Paya filled the kettle from the faucet before placing in into the coals of the kitchen hearth. The faucet was something new to her since she'd returned. Before, to have water for drinking or bathing, servants at the castle would hurry to one of the wells and use a lever to pump the water to the surface. But now, as Impa had bemusedly shown her, all that had to be done to access water was turn a small handle and the water would flow effortlessly. Zelda intended to examine it further and figure out how exactly it worked.

"…Have there been any updates on sir Link's whereabouts?" she asked. Her voice croaked, raspy like an old woman's.

The kettle began to whistle, and Paya removed it from the embers, using a small quilted cloth to protect her hand as she poured water into the teapot. "Not that I've heard, your Highness. I'm sorry."

The scent of dried blue nightshade petals filled the small kitchen as Paya sprinkled them into the pot, already making Zelda's eyelids droop. Maybe this tea would be exactly what she needed to get some rest.

After a few minutes, Paya handed Zelda a china cup, steepling her long fingers around the rim to avoid burning herself. Zelda gratefully accepted it, blowing gently on it before taking a sip. Ruefully, she realised that she still held out her pinky finger when holding a teacup. Even one hundred years was not enough to erase the court etiquette ingrained into her.

She became aware that Paya was standing stiffly in the corner of the room, eyes averted. Despite herself, Zelda felt a smile twitching at her lips. It reminded her of how the scullery maids behaved whenever she would enter a room.

"Please sit down, Paya," she said kindly. "Aren't you going to have any tea?"

Paya spluttered, turning red as the hearth coals. "W-well… if you don't m-mind my company…"

"My only company for the last one hundred years has been Calamity Ganon. I am desperate for some company."

Pursing her lips, Paya poured herself a cup of tea, settling down on the cushion across the table from Zelda. After a moment's consideration, Zelda leaned back, splaying out her legs under the table in a decidedly un-princess-like but far more comfortable position. The pinky, however, stayed out. She noticed as Paya stifled a giggle, and she grinned more broadly.

"My father would have been appalled to see me like this," said Zelda, chuckling. "I distinctly remember being forced to eat supper with a pile of books on top of my head so that I would learn proper posture."

Paya smiled, taking a sip of tea. "Grandmother did the same to me—although I had to balance them while also throwing knives. Oh!" She blushed, turning her eyes to the floor. "M-my apologies, your Highness. I didn't mean to brag."

"That's quite alright." Zelda regarded her curiously—Paya didn't strike her as a fighter. "Do all Sheikah learn to handle weapons?"

"Well, yes. I believe it's a tradition from when we were the protectors of the royal family. When Sheikah children turn nine years old, we learn how to use a bow and a knife, as well as how to conceal ourselves." Paya squeaked a little, then cleared her throat. "S-sorry. I'm just not used to talking about myself, your Highness."

"Just Zelda, please. I don't imagine I'm much in the way of royalty anymore."

"Oh." The tips of Paya's ears went pink. "Very well… Z-Zelda."

"You can ask me questions, if you'd like. I'm sure you must be as curious about me as I am of you." As soon as she offered, she regretted it. What would Paya ask? Would she ask what it was like to be so intimately close to the beast? Would she ask how it felt to finally unseal her divine power? What multitude of unanswerable questions lay before her, not just from Paya but from the hundreds of other curious people she would encounter in her lifetime?

The saucer rattled against Paya's cup as her hands trembled. Strangely, it calmed Zelda's mind to know that Paya was even more nervous than she. "W-well, I was wondering… if it's not too intrusive to ask…"

Zelda braced herself, holding her cup more tightly.

"What was sir Link like? You know, b-before the Calamity?"

Dozens of images scrambled for purchase in Zelda's mind. That stupid grin after he'd make a terrible pun. The warmth in his eyes while he'd soothe an anxious horse, sneaking it an extra carrot. The way he could make a meal better even than all the chefs at Hyrule Castle out of just some roasted squirrel meat and scavenged mushrooms. That day he spent an entire afternoon braiding grass and flowers into a crown for his sister—and then he'd surprised Zelda with one of her own. Somewhere in the memory banks of the lost Sheikah Slate, there was a picture of her and Aryll together wearing them.

Aryll would have been in Castle Town the day that Ganon had returned.

Zelda felt the grief like a physical thing, settling in her throat, in her shoulders. She clutched the cup so hard she feared she might crack the delicate porcelain.

Paya's brown eyes were wide with worry. "Your High—I mean, Z-Zelda. I didn't mean t-to upset you—"

"No, it's alright." Zelda wiped away a tear with the heel of her hand, composing herself. "Link was a very dear friend. It hurts to know that he may not recover his true self."

Paya nodded, and now it was Zelda's turn to avoid eye contact. "I understand."

They sat in silence for a while. Zelda's tea had gone cold, so Paya refreshed it for her. Zelda found it in herself to share a short story about the time she and Link had lost Aryll in the marketplace, only to find her trying to haggle with one of the Sheikah scientists over his telescope. Zelda had ended up giving her one from her study…

"More tea, Zelda?"

Zelda smiled—no stumbling over her name this time. She yawned, remembering just in time to cover her mouth. "No, thank you. I think it's done its work."

Paya carefully poured the remainder of the pot's contents into the fireplace, extinguishing the coals. After replacing the pot to its place on one of the many shelves lining the wall, she turned, clasping her hands.

"What is it, Paya?"

Paya stuck out her lower lip a little as she hesitated, almost making Zelda laugh out loud—it was a look she'd seen on Impa's face many times. "I w-was just thinking that maybe the reason you can't sleep is because you're alone. Like you said, your only company has been C-Cal… Cala…" She let out a little squeak. "I-I'm sorry. I just wanted to say that you're welcome to share my bedroom if you think that would help you sleep better."

Perhaps it was simply because it had been so long since she'd felt genuine kindness, but Zelda found herself nearly moved to tears. "Thank you," she whispered, throat tight. "I think I may take you up on your offer."

It was the first dreamless sleep she'd had in more than one hundred years.