Heyyyyy! This chapter is absolutely too long—as in, the-size-of-two-chapters-too long—but informal tumblr poll said to post it as a mammoth finale, so... mammoth finale! There may be an eventual epilogue, but don't hold your breath for that or anything. In the meantime, thank you so much to everyone who read and commented and made writing this so awesome :)

Also, isn't it cool that Kass canonically composed each of the Champions' theme songs in the Champion's Ballad, so they technically exist in-universe? I mention this fact for no particular reason whatsoever.


"Here it is," Harth said early one evening, knocking against the wooden entryway of Teba and Saki's home to announce his presence. Revali looked up from the plate of food Saki had prepared and nearly dropped his fork, his pulse quickening at the sight of the large bow cradled in Harth's wing.

Finally.

"Is that your bow, Master Revali?" Tulin demanded, leaping to his feet in excitement as Revali climbed more slowly to his own. "Is that the Great Eagle Bow?"

"Tulin, please," Saki said, pulling him back towards her with a pained expression. Revali had often found it odd that Teba's wife so loathed the idea of her son becoming a warrior when she had married one herself, though the thought this time was fleeting as Harth approached.

"I'm sorry it took so long," he continued as Revali accepted the offered weapon, his throat unexpectedly tight. "It took me quite a few tries to get right, but I wanted it to be flawless." Harth nodded in short satisfaction. "This is just about as close as I can get."

Waving aside the apology, Revali ran his eyes down the bow's curve, tracing the decorative white lines with one finger. The freshly painted patterns differed slightly from his old one, a new design to match its new maker, but the same dark blue stained the wood. More importantly, the heft of it was the same: more powerful than a Falcon Bow, but not so heavy that it threw him off his flight—though of course, not every Rito had used it so easily.

He paused as his examination reached the worn metal frame, looking up, and Harth shrugged.

"That kind of metalwork isn't really my area of expertise," he explained. "There was nothing structurally wrong with the existing pieces, so I reused them. Anyway, I didn't think you'd mind if I kept a bit of the old in with the new."

"I don't," Revali agreed, his eyes settling on the faded blue cloth tied just below the bow's grip. He remembered clearly the day he had torn a strip from his scarf to add that final embellishment, though comparing the fabrics now, he found his scarf by far the more vibrant of the two—one inexplicably protected from the ravages of time, while the other was not.

Clearing his throat, he asked gruffly, "How much do I owe you?"

"How much do you have?" Harth asked skeptically, and Revali's beak tightened, his feathers ruffling at the implication. Money had never been a problem for him as one of Hyrule's Champions, and even before the crown's rupees had come pouring in he'd had archery competitions and their accompanying prize money to pad his wallet. Both sources of income might have dried up with the Calamity, but for this, he would figure out something—only before he could say as much, Harth had continued. "I won't accept payment for this. Restoring the Great Eagle Bow was as much a matter of Rito pride as anything else," he added, speaking over Revali's immediate attempts at refusal. "We worked too diligently to maintain it over the years to allow the knowledge of its making to rot away so easily. Would you deny us the right to preserve our history?"

Revali's protests fell away with a grunt. Had Harth said anything about meaning it as a gift for his service, he would have denied it outright, and he suspected Harth knew it. There was certainly a smugness about his beak as Revali's shoulders finally slumped in defeat, unable to form a convincing argument in his own favor.

"You really have me figured out, don't you?" he muttered, checking the tautness of the bowstring with a smooth, absent gesture. Flawless, like Harth had claimed. "Well, I certainly wouldn't want to infringe on your right to preserve our… history."

"I've had more than my share of experience in dealing with stubborn Rito," Harth said dryly. "In fact, I'm not even convinced you're the worst of us. I know one person in particular who could give you a run for your money." His eyes flickered to Saki, who met his gaze resignedly.

"Are you going to go shoot it now?" A small voice interrupted them. Slipping out of his mother's grasp to look up at Revali, Tulin almost vibrated with uncontainable excitement. "Are you taking it to the Flight Range? Can I watch? Are you—ow, mom, let me go!" he protested as Saki grabbed him by the wing once more. "I was only asking! It isn't rude to ask! Dad never lets me play with him at the Flight Range anymore!"

"There's still some time before true dark if you wanted to try it out now," Harth commented as Saki dragged her son back into the roost, setting him to gathering dishes while he stared glumly back at them over his shoulder. "A quick trip to the Flight Range wouldn't take long."

His tone said he didn't care either way, though there was an odd intensity to his eyes that spoke otherwise. Well, he was probably anxious to know how his efforts had measured up—something Revali was keen to find out himself. Night would be on them soon, but he had designed the luminous targets at the Flight Range specifically to enable him to train past dark, and after so much time spent waiting, his feathers itched with the desire to give his new bow a thorough workout. Maybe…

Out of the corner of his eye, Revali saw a familiar Hylian figure coasting in on his Rito-crested paraglider to land on a platform below. Link must have finished earlier than expected tonight.

"Later," he said decisively, reaching around to hook the Great Eagle Bow onto his back. The almost forgotten weight of it felt good across his shoulders. "I'll try it out first thing in the morning. Saki, thank you again for the meal. Tell Teba I'm sorry I missed him."

With a nod to them both and a wave for Tulin, Revali turned to leave. In his eagerness to get home, he missed the brief look of disappointment Harth and Saki shared as he vanished down the stairs into the night.


Rito Village had always held a timeless quality in Revali's eyes, with each cool, sunny day the same as the one before. The seasons that touched other areas of Hyrule barely affected them in this part of Tabantha, and though snow came and went over the mountains nearby, rain over Lake Totori itself was a rarity. He supposed he could have measured time in the growing fringe of Link's hair, or in piles of molted feathers, or the tiny nicks of use that gathered slowly in the newly carved wood of his bow, but it still surprised him to receive a missive from the castle one day and realize exactly how much of it had passed. If the princess could be believed, and he assumed that she could, it had been almost six months from the day that he and the other Champions had returned to life. A little over half a year since Link defeated Ganon.

"Princess Zelda has invited the Champions to the castle for a celebration," Revali told Link over breakfast the morning he received the letter, flicking his eyes over it quickly to pierce through the flowery language with a snort. "Tomorrow evening, apparently. What did the messenger do, crawl from Hyrule Castle?"

"Are you going to go?" Link asked after a moment. He'd gone unnaturally still at the news, staring at the letter in Revali's hand as if it might come to life and bite him, but at first Revali didn't think much of it.

"I don't see why not," he said, shrugging. Despite his griping, there was little in his life these days that couldn't easily be rescheduled, and he was surprisingly anxious to see the others again. However enthusiastically the village had welcomed him in, there were some experiences that only a fellow Champion would ever understand. "I'm sure that Kass will allow you a day off, if you ask him."

"I'm sure he would," Link mumbled. His leg had started to shake up and down, his plate left forgotten by his side as he rubbed a hand through his hair. Frowning, Revali was just about to ask what exactly had come over him when he jumped to his feet. "Luckily, that letter is for you, not me. Give everyone my best. Or… maybe just don't mention me at all."

"Wait," Revali demanded, startled, but Link was already gone. Gripping the offending letter, Revali raced out the doorway after him, grabbing him by the shoulder before he could make it to one of the landings. "This is as much for you as for me, and you know it. Why?"

"Because… I'm busy." Revali scoffed at that, and Link scowled. "Fine, I just don't feel like it. It isn't like you to care about these things."

"It is like you, though," Revali said, and Link faltered. "Is there a reason you'd rather not see the others? I'm certain they would like to see you." Mipha would, of course, but he clamped his beak shut short of mentioning it, not certain he wanted to bring up that particular point.

"They don't," Link muttered. "They don't know me well enough to want to see me, and… I don't really know them now, either. Maybe it's better to just leave things like that."

"Easier, perhaps." Revali considered him narrowly, wondering what Link would say if he knew that most of the Champions remembered him better than he thought they did. Then again, telling him would mean exposing his own failure to do the same. "The princess," he said instead, and saw Link flinch. "She would like to see you, too."

"I… I know." His voice wavered. Maybe he had not shed his feelings of obligation towards her so easily after all. "It's at the castle, though?"

"Yes," Revali said, glancing at the letter again to be sure. "I can't think it's in good repair just yet, but perhaps the renovations have progressed far enough to make the space somewhat useable."

"Maybe." Link's voice shook almost imperceptibly. His whole body did, Revali realized with growing alarm, the color vanishing from his face in patches. Clenching his eyes shut, Link took a deep, unsteady breath, and another, his feeble efforts to hide his discomfort crumbling under Revali's scrutiny. "If you're going too, then maybe…"

Revali didn't understand it. Something about Link's reaction reminded him of the near paralyzing panic that overtook him each time he considered boarding Vah Medoh, but—

Oh.

"On second thought, you might as well stay here," Revali said. Link's eyes flew open, his pupils large and dark in their light blue setting.

"What?"

"This whole event is bound to be unbearably formal," he continued, holding the paper up with distaste. "One of us should be allowed to avoid all that ceremony, at least. I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to see the princess in the future. Come to think of it, she could easily visit here should the mood ever strike her."

Link blinked slowly, coming down from the fear that had so suddenly gripped him.

"...Thank you," he said. Revali hummed, shrugging it off, but Link pressed on. "No really, I—"

"I know," Revali said, tucking the hair behind Link's long ears fondly before turning away. Really, it resembled nothing so much as a bird's nest some days. "You're lucky to have me."

It wasn't until later that he realized what he'd done, staring down at his wings in surprise. Link's hair had an interesting texture, coarser than feathers but still soft despite its tangles… only somehow he thought he had already known that.

The ruins of Hyrule had not changed since Revali's last flight over them, their green overgrowth a verdant indication of recent rain. Maybe it was only because he'd had time to grow used to it, if one could truly become accustomed to such a calamity, but the sight of it depressed him less than it once had. It helped, too, when he reached the outskirts of Castle Town to find that it at least was greatly altered from the barely cleared piles of rubble he remembered. New homes and shops had gone up in his absence, their stately blue tile roofs placed atop modern, multicolored boxes in a strangely harmonious compromise between old and new, and with people walking the streets and the wooden frames of more buildings dotting the tiny town's edges, it finally had the feeling of growth about it. Castle Town might not yet be the bustling hub of commerce he remembered, but new life in all its forms adapting and thriving despite the destruction that tried to subdue it… that felt a lot like hope to him.

Hyrule Castle, on the other hand, looked very much the same as before: broken, and in ruins. Revali almost pulled up uncertainly before noticing a familiar female figure running out to greet him, waving from the castle's dilapidated gates.

"Revali!" Zelda called out as he approached, landing with a grateful shrug of his shoulders. Although the trip was not nearly so long flown in a straight line compared to the winding, indirect roads Hylians were forced to take, it was not inconsiderable, either. "I thought that was you flying in! Come with me, the others are already here waiting."

Revali followed her inside, distractedly exchanging the necessary greetings and pleasantries peppered with appropriate exclamations of awe over the town's progress. Despite her gracious response, the princess appeared equally out of sorts, peering behind them every so often as if she thought—or hoped—that someone else might be following. A blue and white flower twisted, forgotten, between her fingertips.

"I'm afraid the castle itself has not changed much since your last visit," Zelda said apologetically, no doubt noticing his dubious appraisal. "We have cleaned what we can, of course, and cleared away most of the rot, but it doesn't seem appropriate to expend so much effort on my own home when so many in town still lack any home at all. Perhaps when that's more settled, we'll make the necessary renovations. Of course," she added, a familiar spark of enthusiasm lighting her eyes, "it's also convenient to have a space apart from all the bustle of construction where research can proceed undisturbed. The improvements we have planned for Hyrule already—I can't even tell you how excited I am—"

It appeared that she could tell him, launching into a rambling, eager account of how she and her team of Sheikah hoped to innovate everything from transportation to agriculture, though despite his best efforts to listen, Revali's attention wavered. Each eerily empty hallway they passed through pressed in on him with the heavy weight of a tomb until his feathers almost twitched with the desire to fly away, and Revali squared his shoulders against the feeling with a scowl. That was Link's fear speaking, not his own, or else his inborn preference for wide windows and open space. He had never seen these corridors in the depths of their corruption, and the evil that had once inhabited it was no more than a swirling pink vortex in his memories, seen only from a distance at the base of Mount Lanayru and never up close. Even considering what he could not remember, the view from Vah Medoh couldn't possibly have afforded him more than the same.

Like a poisonous bubble from the depths of his mind, the single image floated up to him of a malicious yellow eye. He shuddered, and it vanished.

It was a relief to find the other Champions seated on a balcony outside of the oppressive castle walls, with food representative of each of Hyrule's races laid out in a simple banquet before them. They were not quite the only ones there, but nobody tried to stop them from secreting themselves away, joining together for their own private meal and conversation. The early evening air was pleasantly warm flowing down from nearby Death Mountain, quite unlike the constant cool breeze of Rito Village, and though Revali didn't mind it either way, he thought absently that Link would have liked that much, at least.

"I can hardly believe it's been six months," Urbosa remarked once they had all settled down, swirling a glass of Gerudo wine in thoughtful contemplation—her own contribution to the event. "Not that it's all that much time in the greater scheme of things." Eyes tightening, she took maybe a larger gulp than she'd intended, though she didn't seem to notice. "Barely a drop, really."

"Go easy on that stuff, princess," Daruk warned as Zelda poured herself a small glass, examining the drink with her typical analytical curiosity. "That'll wallop you if you're not used to it."

"I am one hundred and eighteen years old," she protested. "I think it's past time I was allowed to try some." Her nose wrinkled at her first small sip, though, and after setting it carefully back on the table, Revali didn't see her touch it again. "How has everyone been faring?"

Revali gave a noncommittal sound, picking over his fish in a vain attempt to remove the pebbles that flew from Daruk's meal beside him as he ate. The food was not bad otherwise—somebody among those Zelda had gathered must know how to cook—but he'd grown accustomed to better.

"Everyone is well at Zora's Domain," Mipha said more coherently. "Although we miss seeing you there, princess. Sidon has improved a great deal at piloting Vah Ruta since your last visit. I'm certain you'll be impressed with his progress."

Revali choked, thinking he had misheard.

"You're… passing on control of your Divine Beast?" Nobody else looked surprised at her affirming nod, and he wondered if they had spoken of it together before his arrival, or if he had once again neglected contact with his fellow Champions for too long.

"I've been considering doing the same with Naboris, actually," Urbosa murmured—a second shock, especially coming from her. "Perhaps in another few years. The new chief is young still, but strong. When the time comes, I believe she will be more than equal to the task." The smile she gave Zelda was distant, and full of memory. "More time to spend here with you, little bird. I have an old friend who I think would have wanted it that way."

"Ehh, I'm gonna stick with the ol' lizard a bit longer. It's not so bad in those beasts once you're used to it." Daruk might have meant it, though there was a tremor to his bravado that made Revali wonder. "You should see Yunobo, though! Got some spunk to him, that kid. Strong as a boulder, too, or he will be once he's full grown."

Revali grunted sourly. It was easy enough for them, when their successors had been made so clear. Who could he possibly ask when the time came? Medoh had been made for all the Rito, not only Revali himself, but he couldn't trust that bond to just anyone, either

"I've gotta say, though, I sure do miss seeing the little guy come around," Daruk added thoughtfully, tearing Revali's attention back. "So does Yunobo, come to think of it. Anyone know what Link's up to these days?"

From the stir that went through the group, Daruk wasn't the only one with Link's absence heavy on their mind. Revali glanced at Zelda, and found the princess's steady gaze already on him.

"I haven't seen him in months," Mipha said when nobody answered, staring pensively down at her food. "Neither has anyone I've spoken to. I know he is prone to traveling these days, but—" She paused. "If anything had… happened to him, somebody would have heard of it, right?"

Flinching, Revali took in a deep breath.

"Actually, Link has taken up residence near Rito Village," he admitted reluctantly, and saw four heads turn towards him with varying levels of surprise. He couldn't just leave them all worrying, whatever Link wanted. "I believe he's apprenticed himself to an artisan living nearby, though of course I don't know the details of their arrangement. I rarely ever see him myself." The princess's gaze turned doubtful, but he ignored it. There was no reason to divulge everything, either.

"You're saying that of all the places he might have chosen to settle down, he ended up in your backyard?" Urbosa asked, delight tugging the corners of her blue painted lips as Daruk laughed out loud. "How very… convenient."

"I suppose," Revali said cautiously, not quite understanding the overly meaningful look she shared with Daruk. Maybe she'd had too much to drink already.

"An artisan, you say?" To his relief, Zelda turned the conversation delicately aside, content for the moment to allow him his secrets. "That could mean a lot of things, none of which I ever pictured for Link."

"Nor I," Urbosa agreed, her smile fading. "Though I don't know why I should have expected differently, given the circumstances." She sighed, shifting to cross her legs. "I fear that my parting words to him when he came to return my shield some weeks back may have stung—unfairly, the more I think on it. If he returns one day, I think I will need to offer my apologies… or rather, if she returns." That blue painted smirk was back. "Now that was a sight worth seeing."

At least this time Daruk appeared as confused as he was, scratching the back of his head, though Revali thought that Zelda's light cough hid a grin.

"Is he happy?" Mipha asked, speaking up suddenly, and he frowned.

"How should I know if—" Revali stopped, realizing that somehow his old method of blustering indifference no longer fit. "Yes, I think he might be… happy."

Mipha's knowing look in return burned as uncomfortably as always, but eventually she settled back with a nod and a sigh.

"I suppose that's what matters, then," she said. "What else was all this for, otherwise? We may as well find our happiness wherever it can be found, even if it's not where we ever thought to find it."

A remarkably brave gesture, Revali thought, especially considering everything he knew or suspected about her and Link—except…

The princess leaned forward to surreptitiously take Mipha's hand, rubbing it reassuringly between her fingertips, and it struck Revali how many times he had seen that exact gesture between them over the past months. Now that he thought of it, how often had the princess visited Zora's Domain already for Mipha to miss her presence? Revali had seen no trace of her in Rito Village, although he had seen Mipha here every time he came to visit.

Urbosa caught Revali's eyes, rolling her own with a grin as if in confirmation of what he thought he'd seen. Revali found himself returning the expression, sipping from his wine and feeling unaccountably cheerful as a faint blush dusted Zelda's cheeks. Unexpected happiness, indeed.

It was as they were all preparing to leave that the princess finally pulled Revali aside, and that bubble of good cheer began to deflate.

"Take this," Zelda said, pressing something into Revali's hands that he stared down at in confusion. It looked like the Sheikah Slate, but glancing off to the side, he saw another, identical tablet in Urbosa's hands as she waited with the other Champions for the princess to take them home.

"I've told you that I prefer to fly," Revali started to say, but Zelda brushed aside his protests.

"That's not what this is for. The next time you see Link, whenever that is, can you to give this to him?" Her wry expression said she suspected that the two of them met more frequently than he claimed, though the effect lessened as she bit her lip. "It never sat right with me that I had to keep the Sheikah Slate after he'd grown so accustomed to using it. It didn't make sense to leave it with him, not when I needed it for research, but… Purah finally managed to replicate the device, and I wanted him to have this one. He still might find it useful, even if his life is not as perilous as it once was."

Raising an eyebrow, Revali activated the device. It did look just like the other from his admittedly limited experience.

"I'll be certain to pass this on to him, then," he said, moving to slip it in his belt, but Zelda's hand stopped him.

"The only real drawback is that it's still missing its map, see?" she said, touching the screen in demonstration to reveal a blank, black grid with a single yellow arrow at its center. "We've discovered that each individual slate must be linked to a tower or shrine manually in order to use it as a travel point—and of course, the guidance stones at the towers hold the data regarding each region's map. I'm certain he still remembers where they are, if completing the map is something that interests him."

"So you're saying he'd need to visit each one himself," Revali summarized, his stomach churning with something beyond Gerudo wine as he stared down at the blackened screen. "Can't you do it? It wouldn't take more than a day using the original Sheikah Slate for travel."

"I could," Zelda admitted, "and if he wants me to, I will. Time is hard to find these days, but a day of my time is certainly no more valuable than weeks of his. It's just… I can't pretend to know what's best for him, especially now, but I think it might be helpful if he revisited those places under happier circumstances. There was a time when I think Link's greatest joy came from exploring the wild lands of Hyrule. If he wanted an excuse to stretch his legs again, I thought I might as well offer it—but then, if he's really chosen to settle down now then maybe it's for the best." She spread her hands helplessly. "The choice is his."

Revali nodded, that churning dread climbing up towards his throat now. It was a ridiculous thing to worry him, he knew. Even if Link wanted to leave, the task could only take a few weeks, or maybe months at most… and why should it concern him if he did?

"If you're so concerned for his well-being, maybe reconsider your choice of venue for the anniversary party," he muttered, tucking the slate into his belt. It was tantamount to admitting how far he'd stretched the truth about Link, he knew, but she seemed to have figured that much already, and a part of him felt like being petty. Sure enough, her expression flickered only briefly over surprise, landing on regret.

"Still?" she asked, lowering her own voice, and Revali looked at her sharply. "I thought if I gave him some time… Link used to spend hours here trying to erase Ganon's touch from these walls, but no matter how hard we worked, I think for him it never left. He says so little about these things, though, it was hard to know for certain." Surprisingly, a small smile warmed her face. "If he told you that much, then that must mean you finally—"

Laughter from the others interrupted her, and the two of them turned to look. As they spoke, the waiting Champions had clustered around Urbosa with the Sheikah Slate, all chuckling together over something he couldn't see.

"Who took these pictures?" Mipha called out as they approached. "Was it Link?"

"Yes," Zelda said, looking over her shoulder with a smile and shake of her head. "I haven't had the heart to delete them yet, though he nearly filled up the device. He took so many pictures of horses, you have no idea…"

Leaning in for a better look, Revali felt a jolt of shock run through him. Link had taken a lot of pictures of horses, and dogs, and sprawling landscapes both familiar and unfamiliar to Revali, though even the latter pricked strangely at his mind as if he should know them… but winding in and out of those images like a connecting thread was Link himself. Messy braids that Revali had heard of but never seen framed his face in cheesy grins and poses that brought laughter and groans from the others, though Revali himself could not join in. Dazed, he watched as image after grainy image flickered across the screen, Link's clothing and surroundings and companions changing with the passage of time while those braids remained the same. It looked familiar… and it looked wrong.

The Champion's laughing chatter faded to a muted buzz in his ears, their voices not nearly as loud as the thud of his own heart beating, and he realized with numb expectation that he was on the verge of discovering… something. The barrier between himself and his memories felt thinner than ever, but like thin steel it remained impenetrable despite his increasingly frantic attempts to pierce it through. A part of him wanted to reach into the slate itself, to take that smiling boy with the messy braids and… what? What would he change? He scowled in frustration as the answer evaded him still, even after all these months. What could possibly be so important, yet so unthinkable that he hadn't thought of it yet? What?

Then Urbosa flipped to the next image, and everything clicked into place.

"Hey," she protested as Revali's wing shot out, tearing the slate from her grip. "We were all looking at that, you know."

Revali didn't care. He didn't hear. Link's smiling face beamed up at him from out of the slate with his braids as neat as a Rito's now, the Hebra Mountains reflected perfectly in Lake Totori behind him—and in his braid…

"What is it?" Zelda asked, taking the slate from his suddenly numb fingers and scanning it for anything out of the ordinary. Eyes widening, she looked up at him again quickly—schooled in the ways of other cultures, of course. "Did you not… Revali, I thought that you must know."

Revali said nothing, staring down at the dark blue feathers of his hands, feathers that matched perfectly with the one in Link's braid right down to the ivory tip. No, he hadn't known. Looking up at the others, he realized bitterly that he might be the only Champion remaining who hadn't known.


The sun had set by the time Revali finally made it home to the twinkling lantern lights of Rito Village, avoiding the larger, more trafficked landings in favor of flying directly through his own window. Link was already there—of course he was—amusing himself on his small ocarina, although the wind of Revali's arrival cut the music off abruptly as he scrambled to catch the bits of sheet music that tried to flutter away.

"Thanks for that," he said in an annoyed sort of tone, though Revali could tell from his grin that he wasn't truly bothered. Gathering the paper into a messy pile, Link slipped out of his hammock with practiced ease to weigh it all down under the relative safety of his instruments. "So, how was it? As boring as you expected?"

Revali stared blankly at him, the hasty warnings from the others as he'd flown away—Be kind! Be gentle! Don't be an idiot!—still ringing in his ears. The brief ease of their last parting seemed a lifetime away, and he felt like… 'a stumbletongued songbird' was the phrase that came to mind, though he couldn't for the life of him say why.

Link's small smile faded.

"What happened?" he asked warily, and Revali shook himself, finally finding his voice.

"Nothing happened. It was just… a long flight, is all. Two long flights, actually, and a busy day in between."

Link frowned, clearly not sure whether to believe him, but looking Revali up and down, his breath caught.

"Is that…?" he started to ask, pointing wide-eyed at something on Revali's belt. Following the gesture, Revali's momentary relief at the distraction pricked like a bubble.

"For you," he said shortly. "Take it."

Handing over the Sheikah Slate, Revali described the device's creation and shortcomings as succinctly as he could manage in his distracted state, watching all the while as Link flicked through the various displays with the same air of relief and respect that Revali had used handling his bow.

"So Purah finally managed to make one of these, huh?" he murmured when Revali had finished, a wrinkle crossing the bridge of his absurdly small Hylian nose in a distant smile. "I should've known she'd figure it out. Looks like it's all here… except the map, of course."

Link's finger jabbed against the screen, and Revali squawked unwillingly as a glowing blue bomb rune appeared in his hands, ethereal and dangerous.

"Not in my roost!" he hissed, stumbling back, but Link just laughed as another touch of the screen made it vanish.

"This from the guy who leaves bomb arrows lying around," he retorted, causing Revali to puff up in outrage.

"I do not—!"

"I know, I know." Link laughed again, waving his arms in a calming gesture. "I'm sorry. You're always very careful with your bomb arrows."

Revali settled back, not quite mollified. It was hardly the same thing, anyway. He knew the making and handling of his bomb arrows inside and out, while Link's Sheikah tech would likely go off with a (literally) misplaced finger—but that wasn't the source of his turmoil, and he knew it.

Link had gone back to staring at the slate, his eyes a thousand miles away, and it struck Revali how much older he looked now than he had in all those pictures. He shaved almost every morning now, which he certainly hadn't done back then. He might have even grown an inch, although Revali thought with some satisfaction that he himself would always be the taller of the two. Had he been a Rito, Link would have shed the last of his pale fledgling feathers only a few years after Revali had, his adult plumage vivid and glossy with youth. Unfortunate that he should instead resemble a tiny-beaked Rito who had molted all his feathers at once, although once Revali could shake that sad image, Link was not without his charm. Tangles or not, the sun-lightened gold of his hair was stunning in its own right—and few Rito had ever had Link's deep blue eyes.

"You keep looking at me. Are you sure you're okay?"

Revali returned to himself with a jolt, realizing too late where his thoughts had gone while Link started meeting him stare for stare. Stunning, really?

"Maybe not, if I truly have nothing more pleasant to look at," he blurted out, grateful once more for the twin shields of feathers and darkness as he immediately wished to pluck those words back out of the air. Stupid. Did he really have nothing more to fall back on than mindless insults? Odd as he was, though, Link was smiling again.

"Sorry I can't be prettier I guess," he said, quirking an eyebrow, and Revali shook his head vigorously.

"Don't worry about it," he muttered, determined to gain back control of his tongue, at least, if not his runaway thoughts. Still, his stomach clenched as he forced out his next question. "Are you going to go?"

Link frowned, having the utter gall to tilt his head in confusion.

"Go where?"

"The map," Revali snapped, tight dread making him waspish. "Are you going to complete the map?"

"What?" Link actually looked surprised, as if the possibility hadn't crossed his mind. "Of course not. I couldn't… I'm apprenticed to Kass. I can't just up and leave now whenever I like."

"Kass would give you the time off, I'm sure," Revali said, pacing now with aimless agitation. "It wouldn't take you all that long if you hurried. We—h-he'll still be here when you get back."

"Yeah, but…" Link blinked, and looked back down. "Yeah, I guess he might."

Revali's eyes narrowed. He could see it now, too—the wistful longing as Link finally allowed himself to consider the idea.

"It could be useful," he persisted, hating himself more with every word. "Being able to travel anywhere at the touch of a screen."

"We could go wherever we want and be back the next day," Link agreed, an excitement that Revali had only ever seen from him in pictures starting to light up his face. "I've always wanted to show somebody Satori Mountain. Or there's this lake in Akkala with these enormous flowers I think you'd like—" he cupped his hands in demonstration— "and of course you need to see Tarrey Town, and there's that place off the coast near Hateno where—" The flow of words stopped inexplicably, and he flushed, looking down. "That is… I don't think you've ever seen the ocean."

"I haven't," Revali said, though it wasn't really a question. Something poked at the back of his mind, but he ignored it fiercely. "It sounds as if you intend to leave, then. I suppose it will finally be quiet here at night… for a little while, at least."

"...For a little while." With that single sentence, Link's enthusiasm had dimmed. Watching Revali sideways, he panned across the map with a finger, stopping to point out a small, black square indecipherable from the rest. "This place, though… this is the first place I really remember. The Shrine of Resurrection." Dubiously, Revali nodded. It all looked the same to him, but Link seemed certain. "That entire plateau is cut off from the surrounding area now. The tower itself is almost unreachable to anyone who can't fly."

Revali met his questioning look, wishing he knew the question.

"You'll just have to content yourself with a partially completed map," he said at last. "It's not as if I can lend you my wings."

Link wilted.

"No, of course not," he muttered. "So… you think I should go?"

"I can't think of a reason not to." Even to his own ears, Revali sounded coolly detached. "Can you?"

Unfair though it was after he'd practically pushed Link to his conclusion, Revali still wished that he would come up with something, or do anything other than follow Revali's lead for once. Any indication to prove he had known that the feather in his hair meant something beyond mere fondness might have emboldened Revali to respond in kind… but instead Link only nodded, the fringe of his hair falling to hide his eyes.

"I'll talk to Kass in the morning, then."

Revali tossed sleeplessly in his hammock that night, as distracted by Link's presence as he'd been the very first night he moved in, though for once he was not the only one lying awake. The blue glow of the Sheikah Slate illuminated Link's face long after he would have normally nodded off, his hand slipping up to tuck the hair back behind his ears each time it fell out, until Revali started to wonder irritably how an empty tablet could possibly hold his attention for so long. No doubt he had missed having the thing, but what more could it have been to him other than a useful tool?

With a gust of wind, Link's hair pulled free of his ears once more. Scowling, Revali turned away, tucking his fingers beneath his wings.

Even having seen the feather in Link's hair, Revali still could not imagine how such a thing might have happened. That didn't stop him from trying, though, or from spinning scenarios in his mind when his memories remained frustratingly blank. The corniest of them he dismissed out of hand, born from the most vapid rumors ever to pass over a Rito fire—there had been no weeping declarations of undying love while they braided their feathers in together, for instance, and not only because one of them had no feathers to braid. Link was still himself, after all, unless he'd changed more than Revali knew: hesitant to take even the slightest step that he thought might drive Revali away. It had been months already since he and Revali had assumed the friendship that, while increasingly close and comfortable, was still a world away from the implications of a feather. How much longer did he intend to wait before taking things the next step further? Would Link ever take that final step unprompted, or would he prefer in the end to live life in stasis, enjoying what he had rather than risk shattering it all?

But then, the more sinisterly pessimistic part of Revali's mind whispered, he might not even know there was a final step to take. Link was no Rito, after all, and even dead with a hundred painful years behind him, Revali could only ever be Revali. Perhaps death had shifted his perspective enough to convince him to offer up a feather when he had never expected to in life, but had it given him the strength to put that action into words? Or had he slipped the feather in silently, a quiet declaration to himself of… feelings that he had no intention of sharing out loud?

Groaning softly, Revali rubbed a hand over his eyes. Maybe it was love that made his heart twist at the thought of waking here alone without Link there to greet him—that did go beyond the bounds of most friendships, come to think of it—but if anything, that only made things worse. There was a reason that feather had been so unthinkable, after all. Everything of value Revali had ever achieved had been done in isolation, and he'd never expected to want things any other way.

No, what he needed now was time. That was the decision he'd come to on the long flight back from Hyrule Castle—the only decision he'd been able to reach, with his thoughts fluttering frantically like wounded birds. Time to decide what he wanted, to clear his mind without Link scattering it to the wind with every soft word and blue-eyed glance. Time maybe to remember…

Watching Medoh's shadow pass over the darkened water below, Revali wondered with a pang of self-loathing whether there was time enough in the world to convince him to face anything that truly frightened him.

Sighing, Link turned away, and his hammock went dark.


Revali's last, buried hope that Link's journey might be put off indefinitely was dashed when Kass enthusiastically agreed to the idea.

"He thinks it will be good for me to practice playing for other people," Link said, sorting through an enormous pack that he had hardly touched since moving in. Despite his sour mood, Revali couldn't help but be fascinated by Link's strange process of 'packing'. From enchanted jewelry to climbing gear, each item withdrawn from the bag was laid out carefully and scanned into the Sheikah Slate, where it subsequently dissolved into blue light, available for almost immediate retrieval as Link had already demonstrated to Revali's unwilling amazement. Some items remained on his person, though: the journal Revali had given him, for one, along with his accordion and ocarina. Something colorful and silky emerged from the pack, but before Revali could get a good look at it, Link had stuffed it, too, into his pocket, flushing fiercely. "I'm supposed to perform at every town and stable, and for every traveler who is willing to listen."

"I see," Revali said, mentally reminding himself to give Kass a very cool look the next time they crossed paths. The princess should receive the same, come to think of it. A pity he could not glare at himself.

"I think I'll start with Tabantha Tower since it's closest, and circle around the Great Plateau. That will take me through the Hebra Mountains on my way back to Rito Village."

"Sounds reasonable."

A shiny black hat resembling a fish came out of the pack, and Link held it for a moment, shaking his head.

"I wonder if those Wizzrobes are still dancing around the Ridgeland Tower," he muttered, setting the hat down and storing it with the rest. "They probably are. I never did go back to deal with them."

"I suppose you'll find out."

"But Akkala will be easier this time, with the Guardians back on our side."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Link ran his hand over the soft, downy fabric of the snowquill armor that came out next, watching Revali out of the corner of his eye. He had done this a few times already, chewing on his lip before opening his mouth, only to close it again and move on, so it took Revali off guard when this time, Link spoke.

"Do I bother you when I play?" he asked, and Revali stirred in confusion.

"What?"

"You know…" Link raised his hands to his mouth, cupping an imaginary flute in demonstration, and Revali understood. "I don't have to do it here, if it bothers you. I can always practice somewhere else."

"No, it's… fine," Revali said, his voice softening despite himself. More than fine, it was the highlight of his day, but that sounded too corny to say, so he didn't. Link eyed him uncertainly before nodding.

"Just let me know."

The bulky snowquill coat and trousers disappeared in blue light, but Link held onto the winged comb, running it through his fingers before placing it experimentally behind his ear. Without the stability of a braid to keep it in place, it sagged, slipping immediately back onto the wooden floor with a soft 'clink'.

"There's a shrine here in Rito Village, you know," he said abruptly. "I can't come here every night without losing some of my progress, but if it's time to make camp and I'm near a shrine… it doesn't have to be months before we see each other again."

Revali felt the tightness ease somewhat in his throat.

"Don't return on my account," he told Link irritably, turning up his beak. "I don't need you here with me at all times."

"No," Link agreed, slipping the winged earpiece into a pouch at his waist. "I know that."

His sword was the final thing to emerge from the pack, and Revali stared at the long black blade, realizing just how long it had been since Link last held a weapon of any sort. Little though he knew about swords, Revali suspected that it must be the finest blade available outside of the legendary sword Link had once carried, but Link examined it dubiously before shrugging into the leather harness, belting it firmly over his chest.

"I hope I'm not too out of practice," he said with a sigh, his hands lingering over the buckled strap a moment longer. Though he had nothing to say in response, Revali fervently agreed.

The eve of Link's departure found him predictably restless, the soft, lulling motion of his hammock not nearly enough to soothe the agitation in his mind, so this time he didn't even try to fight it. Slipping quietly to his feet, Revali hopped up onto his window's small platform about to launch himself into the night, only to pause, looking back. Link might have been asleep—his slate had gone dark, at the very least, and his chest rose in deep, even breaths—but…

"You should go see the other Champions while you're away," Revali said, and sure enough, Link's eyes opened, the dim outline of his face turning to regard Revali silently. "Daruk and Urbosa… and Mipha especially. They all remember you better than you know."

If Link asked the obvious question in return, Revali didn't hear it, and soon the wind rushing around his ears as he raced through the sky kept him from hearing anything else at all. He deserved to know, however it affected his opinion of Revali himself. Would Link blame him for not remembering once he'd spoken to the others, or assume that Revali didn't care enough to try? Although the thin sliver of a moon made it difficult to see where he was going, Medoh stood out against the night sky with perfect clarity, its thin blue lines of light vivid in the darkness.

Revali flew aimlessly for awhile, lost in the repetitive flap of wings, but it was no surprise when he inevitably ended up on a path through the air so familiar he could have flown it in his sleep. Perhaps a few hours spent with the simple physicality of fletching to cheek would settle his mind… but to his surprise, rounding the corner leading up to the Flight Range, Revali found it already occupied. The flickering light of a fire greeted his approach, warming the heart of the hut overlooking the deep, windy canyon, and it took only another moment to pick out the solitary white figure on the wooden landing, windswept and standing utterly still.

It was enough to make Revali pause, settling quietly onto the path below for a closer look. He hadn't realized until just that moment how infrequently he had seen Teba around as of late, though the more he thought about it, the more his many absences stood out in his mind. Head bowed, bent over one knee with his wings spread stiffly beside him, Teba could almost have been praying, except Revali knew that he wasn't. He could recall the countless hours he'd spent himself in similar concentration on that very landing, learning to feel out the currents of air and pull them all together until those tiny flurries had one day formed a breeze, and then a torrent, spiraling up around him in the skyward reaching gust that he had finally dubbed Revali's Gale.

Of course, none of that explained Teba's presence here now. Not unless…

Teba went tense, his fingers so stiff they almost bent backwards, and Revali felt the air leave his lungs. A breeze began to stir beyond that of the Flight Range's constant updraft, raising the thin feathers Teba wore in loose spikes behind him so that he looked even wilder than usual. The current of air tightened suddenly into a spiral as Teba's eyes snapped open, and with a grunt and a powerful flap he followed it up, his beak pointed in determination as if to pierce the sky… but almost as soon as it started, that rush of air wavered, the spiraling wind widening until it abruptly fell away. Teba's ascent slowed, and then reversed, and he was sent sprawling to the pier with a grunt that Revali knew from experience came more from injured pride than any actual pain. He had not risen far enough for that… not yet, at least.

"Ugh," Teba panted with a sharp shake of his head, pushing himself to his knees. "I lost it. Again."

His golden eyes caught sight of Revali staring at him from below and widened. Wheeling to his feet, Teba looked as if he would fly away, but instead he took a deep, steadying breath, pushing back the feathers that had flown into his face as Revali rose to stand beside him on his own, more controlled gust of wind.

"You see why I wear mine in braids," Revali said, surprising himself by how calm his voice sounded, though his head felt strangely tight. Maybe he just needed a few moments for it to sink in. "It will drive you crazy trying to keep it neat all the time otherwise."

"And have others compare the two of us more than they already will?" Teba muttered, glancing away with what on anyone else might have been a sullen frown. "Sorry, I… didn't want you to see that. Did Harth tell you to come here, or was it my wife?"

Remembering the night he had received his bow, Revali felt a few things click into place.

"Harth did," he said, and Teba's scowl deepened, his wild, charcoal-tipped feathers resembling a thunderhead. "That's not why I'm here now, though, and he certainly didn't mention the… details. Is this why you've been avoiding me?"

"I…" Teba's face was a picture of confliction. "I hadn't meant to give that impression."

"I see."

An uncomfortable, appraising silence fell between them as they surveyed each other, the wind whipping up around them.

"It's my right to learn this, as much as any Rito's," Teba said at last, his deep voice defensive. "You don't own the skies."

Revali surprised himself by laughing, clapping his fingers to his beak in surprise as Teba somehow managed to stiffen further, his tail fanning out rigidly behind him. The ability that had set Revali apart for so long was no longer his alone, so why did he feel relieved?

"I know," he said eventually when he could trust himself to speak, and Teba nodded.

"I don't want your help, either," he added warningly. "I can figure it out myself."

"Understandable," Revali said, and Teba paused, his eyes narrowing.

"Is it?"

"Of course it is." Revali tossed his braids with a proud jerk of his head. "I discovered how to do it by myself. Why shouldn't you be expected to do the same?"

Teba stared at him for another moment, then burst into rough laughter of his own.

"Harth will be disappointed to hear that his plan to have you talk some sense into me failed, then," he said, shaking his head. "He thinks I'm being too stubborn about this, and Saki…" His grin left as quickly as it had come, and he grimaced. "Saki."

Revali's unexpected levity faded, and he watched Teba somberly. He knew he had the habit of getting so wrapped up in his own affairs that he didn't always notice those of others, but he realized with a twinge of guilt that if he'd been paying any attention at all, he would have noticed Saki's growing resignation, as well. Paired with Teba's absence, it told an all too predictable story.

"I envy you sometimes," Teba said, and for just that moment Revali could see the familiar depths of exhaustion in his eyes that came from working night after night for something that felt impossible. "You get to push yourself as hard as you want, for as long as you want, and it doesn't hurt anyone. That's… not how it works for me."

It was true, Revali thought, though for once he derived no particular joy from the thought. Strange, considering that he'd made his carefully maintained distance from others almost a life philosophy—until Link came along, of course. A part of Revali had assumed that he must have tied that feather through Link's hair with some sense of surrender, grasping at love because it was the only option left to him, but the envy with which he noticed himself watching Teba's lavender-streaked braid toss against the wind told a different story. Would he have chosen to do the same, knowing how much life he still had left to live?

Revali wished he knew. The tightness in his head had turned to pain, a dull ache at the base of his skull, and he rubbed at it subconsciously.

"Can I ask you a question?" Teba said abruptly. "You might not remember it well enough to answer, but it's something that's been bothering me, and I wanted to know what you thought about it."

Frowning, Revali considered him.

"I'll answer as well as I can," he offered cautiously, and Teba nodded, clearing his throat.

"After Ganon was defeated and we thought you were gone for good, Link came and found me. Said that before you passed on, you'd left me some final words." He snorted. "I guess I believed that he'd spoken to you by then after hearing you call your attack on Ganon, though I still almost thought it was a bad joke. It wasn't until the day you fell from Vah Medoh that I really believed that you'd…" Looking Revali over, Teba shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I still don't know what Link told you about me."

He paused there as if he might receive an answer, but Revali only shrugged.

"Your guess is as good as mine," he muttered, the pain in his head increasing. These sleepless nights were doing terrible things to his health. "Only Link could tell you for sure."

"Right." Shaking himself, Teba fixed Revali with a piercing stare, which meant something coming from him. "The message you left was that you didn't think I'd ever match your accomplishments."

Revali winced despite himself. It sounded unfortunately like something he might say, though he couldn't imagine why he would have ever asked Link to go out of his way to say it. Before he could ask whether Teba expected an apology for something he didn't even remember saying, the other Rito had continued.

"You also said that you hoped I'd prove you wrong. Now, you never struck me as the kind of guy who likes being wrong about anything, or shown up by anyone. In fact, the more I've seen of you, the less sense any of it has made." He grinned suddenly, a flash of dark humor crossing his face. "I guess you probably didn't expect to be around to see it, which might have changed things, but it's not the kind of challenge I could just back down from either way. Still, I always did wonder… was it because I helped Link tame Medoh, or—"

"You wanted to kill Medoh."

If he'd had the presence of mind to notice, Revali might have been amused by Teba's guilty start at the accusation, but he was barely even aware that he had spoken. The pounding pain in his head felt prickly all of a sudden, like pins and needles jabbing through.

"Of course you would hear about that," Teba muttered, gravelly voice low. "It wasn't anything personal. The Divine Beast Vah Medoh just came to life out of nowhere and started shooting anything that flew near it. If it had been you protecting the village, you would have done the sa—Revali?"

Teba's voice echoed faintly as if he stood on the other edge of the canyon, though there were words that still jumped out in his mind. Link. The village. Link had never told him that about Teba—had never spoken much about Teba to him at all, in fact—but…

Vah Medoh towering above him, Rito Village out of reach beneath him, but before his eyes, pictures on a slate. Poignant nostalgia chokes the words from his throat, and so soft-spoken Link supplies his own, leading him through each picture of this place he will never return to, and these people he will never meet. The bowyer. The elder. Teba and Tulin, seated at the Flight Range, his Flight Range.

Bitterness at the thought of this blue-eyed chick saddled with his lonely legacy, and he turns away, because Tulin deserves better. Revali made his own choices, doesn't regret them, but still this unknown child deserves better

Revali did not notice his beak gaping open, wide eyes staring at a flood of images that he knew distantly were only in his head, though no less real despite that. He had been to the Flight Range almost every day since returning to life, and had come no closer to boarding Medoh tonight than ever before. What had changed? Was it seeing those pictures on the slate at the castle that had triggered this, or meeting Teba here at the Flight Range…

Or was it the shock of seeing his Gale used by somebody else? Because the memories did not end as they shared their regrets, Link's bitter admission fading into fuzz. Instead, pinned onto the end like an afterthought, as if every lost memory of this place had been locked in his mind together, he recalled a single scene.

It was deceptively simple at first glance, though the implications were staggering: just Link and Revali together, rising over the Flight Range on the winds of his Gale. Revali's eyes darted around him as he rose, ghostly green flames flickering across his wings, but though he had to crane his head to manage it, his blue and gold braid whipping up around him, Link's own eyes never left his face. Revali knew that he both wanted and did not want to be there, his nostalgic pining nowhere near satisfied by this distant imitation of life, but for Link he would bear it. If this was Link's gift then he would take it in and never let on that it hurt, because he loved him too much to…

"Master Revali!"

Gasping, Revali shivered uncontrollably. The cold night wind felt especially frigid after those brief, deadening moments of… death. He could feel his mind struggling to rearrange itself around what he'd seen, working desperately to draw connections and conclusions, but too much of it stretched the bounds of what he'd thought possible to fit neatly in anywhere. One fact stuck out in his mind, though, the most impossible of all.

"Are you okay?" Teba was still talking, he noticed dimly, an anxious mutter that barely allowed for a word edgewise. "I didn't mean to… you were just standing there, staring at nothing, and then you—"

"I gave Link my Gale?" Revali interrupted hoarsely, not quite a question despite the intonation, and the flow of words ceased as Teba stared at Revali in shock.

"You remember?" he asked in a rough whisper that the wind might have whipped away if he hadn't been standing so close—supporting him, Revali realized suddenly, like the very first day they met. It was a wonder if Teba still had any respect for him at all. "Did you remember anything else, or…"

"I gave Link my Gale," he repeated, more firmly this time, though he still stepped back on shaking legs. Now that he knew that much, he could remember… no. No, the rest was still blocked to him, though he could feel those pieces of memory scattered throughout his mind like sparkling gems hidden within a rock, awaiting a force strong enough to shake them free. More importantly, he could feel something else—something he realized he had felt for a long time, though he hadn't known for sure what words to put to it until now.

Teba still hovered nearby, concerned, which almost made him laugh. Never had concern been so utterly misplaced.

"Medoh will forgive you," Revali said, and then he did laugh, if only from the satisfaction of seeing someone else to look so confused for a change. Blood and authority may have determined his fellow Champions' successors, but from the beginning, Revali had only ever been set apart by his effort—something another Rito had finally managed to match. If Medoh could forgive Revali for avoiding it for so long, it would likely be willing to overlook Teba's bomb arrows. "Saki and Tulin will forgive you, too, though I can tell you this much—if you master my Gale but lose them in the process, you won't have proven me wrong at all."

From Teba's expression, he thought he'd been handed another riddle, though to Revali the answer was finally clear. If he had only wished to see his skill returned to the Rito after his death, he would not have chosen Teba to carry that legacy—not with a family to weigh him down, as Revali might once have seen it. On the other hand, if some part of him had wanted to believe that great things could be achieved even by someone who still held to love… well then.

That was another matter entirely.


When Revali awoke the next morning, Link's hammock was empty.

Disbelieving, he stared at the limp square of woven fabric, then up at the sun sitting high in the sky. No doubt Link had wanted to get an early start on his travels, but had he really left without a word? Revali would have guessed that Link wasn't one for goodbyes, but this…

Then he caught sight of the four salmon rice balls sitting clustered together on his desk with a small, folded paper tucked beneath them, and his heart leapt. Sliding out of his hammock with clumsy urgency, Revali stumbled over to eagerly peruse its contents. It didn't take him long.

"For Revali," he read aloud, wondering in exasperation whether Link had expected somebody to come along and try to claim his meal. Over and over he read that messy scrawl, long after he'd comprehended its meaning, before letting the note fall with an abrupt laugh. Link never did say what he meant to say, did he? Tossing a rice ball in his mouth, Revali shrugged into his armor, wrapping his blue scarf around his neck with a sharp flourish. He still had time to catch up. One of them had to tie the first feather—proverbially speaking on Link's end, or literally in his own case—and at this rate, it wouldn't be Link.

A cough from behind made him whirl around hopefully, but it was only Amali, knocking lightly against his entryway to further announce her presence.

"Revali?" she said uncertainly, looking around his roost in confusion. "Why are you still here? Link left hours ago."

Revali didn't know whether to laugh or groan. So his next course of action had been so very obvious to everyone but himself, had it?

"I'm meeting up with him further down the road," he told her, and her expression cleared.

"I see. I suppose this is goodbye for now, then. My husband would wish you safe travels, I'm sure, but he's been out singing with our daughters all morning." Smiling, she shook her head. "We'll miss the two of you while you're gone, of course, but maybe a bit of a break will do everyone some good."

"I hope so," Revali said, mentally rescinding some of the ill will he'd felt towards Kass earlier. As an afterthought, he did the same for the princess, as well. "I thank you for your well wishes."

He had expected her to continue down the path, but instead Amali leaned against his doorway, looking him up and down thoughtfully.

"I married a wandering man myself, you know, and I always did worry when he was gone. Seeing the two of you travel together reminds me of our younger years."

Revali frowned. It seemed an odd thing to say when he and Link were not courting in any sense of the word—not yet, at least. Before he could decide how to respond, though, she had reached up with all the absent familiarity of a mother of five to smooth out a feather that had fallen loose.

"There," she said, satisfied. "Can't let you leave with such beautiful plumage in disarray… and such a distinct shade of blue," she added with a wink. "Come back to us safely, won't you?" Kass's light blue feather peeked at him from within her green braid, swaying as she tilted her head.

"I'll do my best," Revali promised resignedly, turning away—and stopping as every veiled, playful comment about his feathers crashed in on him all at once, followed by the mental image of Link wandering around the village as he certainly must have done, Revali's dark blue feather woven prominently through his hair for all to see. The last secret of Rito Village clicked into place, and he whirled around to stare at Amali's retreating back, beak agape, too stunned for words. Oh.

Oh.

In no time at all, Revali had packed his few belongings, setting his Great Eagle Bow and quiver firmly against his back as he finished off the last of the rice balls appreciatively—even traveler's food tasted better when cooked by Link. Casting one last, lingering look over his home, Revali nodded in satisfaction. That left just one piece of unfinished business to take care of, and then he could be on his way.

Almost as if it could sense his intentions, which Revali supposed it very well might, Medoh let out a familiar, piercing screech as he stepped out onto the landing that bore his name, causing several heads to whip towards him in alarm. To his own surprise, he felt a grin split his face.

"Don't tell me you thought I forgot about you," he called up without caring who heard, gathering his Gale to send him soaring into the sky. Pulling alongside one of Medoh's enormous, glowing blue eyes, he took a moment to admire his own daring. Even this close to the Divine Beast he felt none of his usual rising panic, as if he'd finally found something stronger to take its place. Hope had a way of diminishing fear, he supposed. "Do you mind if we put this off for just a bit longer? I wouldn't ask, only there's somebody I need to catch up to before he slips away. I'm sure we'll be back again before you know it."

Medoh said nothing in return, of course, though nothing really needed saying. It was as if they both knew it was no longer a matter of if they were reunited, but when… or maybe only Revali had ever doubted that to begin with. Either way, when he did return to board Medoh, he would greet those old memories with new ones he'd formed on his own, and maybe even more than that.

"Watch over Rito Village while I'm away," he added, looking down at the quietly creaking village below, its windmills ever turning. Revali didn't know if he could have left it at all without knowing that it sat in such good hands—not that the Divine Beast could really act without its pilot despite Revali's affectations otherwise, but the village would be protected nonetheless. "I have somebody to introduce you to when I come back. He's as stubborn as I am, or so I hear, so I'm sure you'll be able to handle him just fine."

Flying contentedly along with Medoh for another few seconds, Revali eventually peeled away, wheeling around the sky a few times with a budding, almost giddy sense of freedom before diving down towards the bridges. Rito Village would always be his home, but it seemed a part of him had wanted this for a very, very long time now.

Tempting as it was to follow Link's intended path to the south and hopefully find him all the sooner, Revali reluctantly decided against it, turning instead towards Rito Stable. If something had changed Link's mind and sent him in another direction, it would be better to discover that here than miles down the road. Someone at the stable could tell him for certain which way Link had gone, and whether he had taken a horse—a possibility that would make him faster, but also more likely to stick to the trail. Although Revali had only vague non-memories to go off of, something buried in his mind told him that when Link traveled, that wasn't always the case.

Then again, he thought with surprise that turned to anticipation as his ears caught the faint strains of music on the wind, tracking Link down might be even easier than he'd expected.

To Link's credit, it took a few measures this time for Revali to know for certain that it wasn't Kass performing, though he struggled for a moment to track the music to its source. Eventually his eyes picked out the hooded figure seated on a fallen log in a small patch of sunlight, his back to the woods with an accordion expanding and contracting comfortably in his hands. Although Revali had winced initially at the thought of Link inflicting every town and stable he passed through with a performance, he realized now that perhaps he should have trusted Kass to know his pupil's capabilities when he set him to the task. The wrong notes Link did let slip through were both less numerous and less offensive than Revali remembered, and he landed with as slight a breeze as he could manage to appreciate for a moment the rustic, somehow soaring melody. He couldn't remember Link ever playing this one around the roost at night, though it sounded well-practiced.

A handful of Hylian children rolled around playing nearby, barely glancing at Link or Revali—Rito would be nothing out of the ordinary this close to the village—but Link noticed none of it. The hood of an embroidered cloak obscured his face despite the relative warmth, and his attention seemed fixed on coaxing the music out of the instrument in his hands. Still, Revali sidled up slowly to one of the stablehands nearby, not in any hurry to be seen just yet.

"How long has he been here playing?" he asked in a low voice, gesturing towards Link. He likely could have spoken as loudly as he wanted to without being heard, but he still winced when the Hylian woman made no effort to match his tone, answering in a strong drawl.

"Who, Link?" She hummed a bit in thought, glancing up at the sun as she ran a brush along a horse's flank, and Revali eyed the beast warily. He'd never been one for horses, though all those pictures in Link's slate said that he probably had a different opinion. "A good few hours, I'd say. Rolled in right around when the last of our guests woke up. He's getting pretty good with that thing, even if he has been playing the same song over and—oh!" She shrugged as the song wound to its conclusion, and Link settled back to start doing up the accordion's clasps, signalling the music's end. "Guess he's done. If you wanted to talk to him, it looks like now's your chance."

Revali nodded absently, his eyes on Link. He didn't seem to expect any recognition for his performance, or was possibly unaware that he even had an audience, but the children playing nearby stopped to clap and cheer as a few of the listening travelers joined in politely, startling Link into embarrassed laughter as he scratched at the back of his head. A warm sort of pride welled up in Revali, and he wished he was holding the Sheikah Slate if only so he could attempt to capture the sight for later, though the moment passed quickly enough. The small crowd dispersed, and with the final clasp of his instrument secured, Link sighed, craning his neck to stare up the bridges leading to Rito Village. The hood of his cloak fell back to finally reveal his blue eyes and solemn expression, and Revali almost lost his nerve looking at him, the easy confidence he'd felt in the air draining away with each nervous beat of his heart. Then Link turned aside, shouldering his pack with a grunt, and just like that, Revali was out of time and excuses. Clearing his throat, he stepped forward—and stepped back again reflexively as Link whirled around, eyes widening as he saw who had startled him.

"You weren't supposed to hear that," he blurted out in greeting, and Revali raised an automatic eyebrow. It was true that he hadn't heard Link play any instrument other than his ocarina since that day near Warbler's Nest, but this time there hadn't been anything embarrassing about it.

"Why not? You sounded good."

If he had thought Link flushed at the applause before, at Revali's praise he came close to resembling a wildberry.

"I didn't—I mean, th-thank you, but—ah!" he groaned. "Kass wrote that song about you! I'm sure he wanted you to hear it from him first."

"Is that so?" Revali personally thought he preferred hearing it like this, though he wished now that he had known it was for him as he listened. Maybe he could convince to play it again for him sometime. "Well, I won't tell if you don't."

Biting his lip, Link only nodded, the color fading a bit from his cheeks.

"I thought I'd find you further along," Revali continued when Link seemed inclined to keep his silence, hoping he sounded more at ease than he felt. His pounding heart had yet to ease its pace. "If this is the speed you intend to travel at, you'll be making it back sometime next year."

"Kass wanted me to perform," Link mumbled, shrugging. "It was the whole reason he agreed to this in the first place."

"For so long?" Revali persisted, with a pointed glance at the sky. "For someone in such a hurry to leave this morning, you've wasted a lot of daylight."

Link shot him an irritated look spoiled slightly by guilt, though Revali thought it a valid line of questioning, if admittedly not the most useful for what he'd come here hoping to achieve. The problem was, now that he'd arrived, he didn't quite know how to get to what he wanted to say, and Link's sullen silence wasn't helping matters, either. Revali scratched at the ground nervously with a talon as the moment stretched, his dark suspicions from before resurfacing. If he had remembered things wrong… if he'd somehow misinterpreted this whole situation…

Except none of that really mattered anymore, because Revali knew how he felt now regardless of Link's initial intentions, and Link… he had been sitting here for hours, playing Revali's song. The thought gave him heart, and he cleared his throat again. Maybe it was best to just go for it?

"Do you have a—"

"I don't want to go, okay?" The words came out of Link in a rush as if he could hold them back no longer, and he glared at Revali in stiff challenge, daring him to say something scathing. "I knew if I saw you before I left, I wouldn't… you're right that it will be useful, and Kass is right that it will be good practice, and Zelda might even be right in thinking that it's something I need to do, but I just… don't want to. I know that I won't even gone for that long, and it's something I've missed while I've been here, but—nothing I ever found on the road has made me as happy as I've been the past few months here, with you." The admission hung in the air for only a second before panic widened Link's eyes and he backpedaled, hastily adding, "And with Kass. And the rest of the village, of course. It's probably the closest thing I have to a home in Hyrule now, so…" He cut off weakly, turning away. "I'm sorry. You probably just came to say goodbye, didn't you? Don't worry about all that, I just… what were you going to say?"

Revali stared at him, regretting every harsh word he'd uttered in recent days that Link had so clearly taken to heart.

"Do you have a comb?" he asked at last, unprepared for the reaction his question received. Link very nearly swayed on the spot, his once-red face turned as pale as a cloud.

"What?" he said hoarsely, even as his hand inched almost of its own accord into a leather pouch to withdraw the requested item. "Why?"

"Why do you think?" Revali retorted, though he thought the tremor in his own voice might have given him away. As he took the offered comb and their fingers brushed, he could feel Link shaking. "If we are to be seen traveling together, then at the very least you are going to look presentable."

If possible, Link looked even more faint.

"Are we?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Traveling together?"

"This will be easier if you sit down," Revali muttered, eyeing Link's trembling knees. "Can you find us a place to…?"

Link's legs deposited him limply onto the fallen log behind him. Not exactly what he'd had in mind, though a glance around them showed that Link's small audience had moved on with the music's end. Even the stablehands had found work they'd been putting off elsewhere, giving them a warm pocket of solitude.

Revali took a deep, steadying breath, and realized suddenly that he didn't need it. With a comb in his hands and Link sitting before him, this felt like the most natural thing in the world. Loosing the tie holding Link's hair back, Revali watched as it fell to his shoulders in waves

"If somebody at the castle told you… something," Link started to say, his fingers tapping against his thighs. "You don't need to feel obligated to—"

Revali rapped against his head with the comb.

"Be quiet and stay still," he said firmly, though with an irrepressible warmth that he couldn't help but notice sent shivers down Link's back. "You know me better than that.

Sizing up Link's head of blonde tangles, Revali dove in, starting from the ends to minimize snagging, and surprised himself with how easily he melted into the motions. It was as if he knew instinctively how much pressure to use, where he could pull through firmly and which areas required a more delicate touch, and almost despite himself, Link began to relax. His breathing slowed and softened as his eyelids fell, the sun-warmed blue of his eyes a mere sliver beneath them, and Revali couldn't resist running a feathery finger down his smooth Hylian cheek, though he disguised the movement quickly. Threading his fingers through Link's newly combed hair and watching the gold shimmer against the blue, he tied most of it neatly back again, leaving out the long pieces that framed his face.

"Now then," Revali began at last, and nearly jumped himself when Link jerked beneath him, hissing in annoyance. "I told you to stay still."

Link started to nod, then stopped with a rueful expression. His eyes had fallen all the way shut now, and Revali took advantage of the moment to find the perfect feather from his wing, its length and structure suited for its intended purpose. As he plucked it out, his mind barely registered the sting.

"Now then," he tried again, dividing the first braid into sections and winding them together one over the other in the complex Rito way. "If you really don't want to go, there's certainly no reason that you should. We have a village full of people if you must perform, and nearly everyone in Hyrule manages to travel where they want to without the aid of old Sheikah technology. However…" He paused, and now his fingers chose to tremble as he produced the feather, pulling and tucking it through the braid to lie neatly against the golden hair. "If all that you want is company on your travels, I believe I can think of a way for us to help each other. An… equal exchange, of sorts."

Revali immediately wished he had rephrased that. It was a disgustingly analytical thing to say while offering someone up a feather… but for the first time, the hint of a smile touched Link's lips.

"How so?" he murmured, and Revali grunted, nearly dropping the beads he'd brought along to secure it.

"Well…" He'd had all morning to decide what to say now, so why hadn't he? "You know that I still do not… remember much. From before."

"That's fine," Link said immediately. "I understand. You don't need to try to—"

"Would you sit still and let me finish?" Revali snapped in exasperation. "And no touching!" he added, slapping Link's hand away as it reached towards the finished braid. "I said I don't remember much, but—I do remember a bit."

Sure enough, Link froze, abandoning his attempts to prod at the braid.

"...Oh?"

"A bit," Revali emphasized, starting on the final braid. Link's eyes stayed fixed on him as he worked, as much as they could, and Revali was grateful that he'd woven the feather in early. He might have fumbled the braid entirely under that hopeful gaze. "Only a bit, but… the others believe that the Divine Beasts keep our memories. If that's true, then retrieving mine would mean boarding Vah Medoh."

He hesitated, a part of him expecting Link to question his delay, or maybe cast blame for his inaction. Instead, Link's eyes filled with an awful understanding that sent Revali hurrying hastily on.

"Myself, I have a different theory, or maybe it's only my situation that's different. I believe I—gave you something." Link twitched, and Revali nodded in satisfaction. "Something that carried me somehow away from Vah Medoh, though from what little I know, that should have been impossible."

"Your Gale," Link said softly, confirming what he already knew, then added, "Every Champion gave me a gift from their spirit that I could use to call on them when I needed it, but the others were mostly useful for fighting. Your Gale carried me… everywhere."

Now that was interesting. Revali thought he could imagine what those other gifts might have been, knowing what he knew about the Champions. Had the Divine Beasts restored those moments to them as well, or did they also have snippets of memory scattered across the land?

"It is the everywhere that makes me curious," Revali said—a mild word for what he felt. "Although I doubt there is something to remember in each of the places you brought me, I still think that seeing them might unloose something." He shrugged, affixing the final bead and finally meeting Link's stare. It was finished. "More than that, if there are places that perhaps have greater significance than others, you are the only one of us who would know. I… would like to see those places."

When it became clear that Revali would not stop him, Link's hands shot up, running carefully along his newly done braids. As his fingers met feather, the motion halted, along with his breath.

Revali waited, forgetting to breathe himself. The feather must mean something to Link, if his reaction was any indication. Did it mean what it meant to Revali, or…

"You mentioned an equal exchange," Link said, and Revali blinked. "If I take you along, what's in it for me?"

Brow creased uncertainly, Revali opened and closed his mouth. He knew Link well enough to recognize the light of mischief in his eyes, though to what end it burned, he couldn't say.

"W-well," he stammered, drawing his chest up and falling back on what he knew, "it's my understanding that there is a rather crucial tower that your unfortunately flightless Hylian self cannot reach. As you may have already heard, I more than any other Rito have elevated the art of flight to mastery, so your lack could certainly be alleviated with my gracious aid." He paused. "Are those terms… agreeable?"

"Agreeable," Link repeated with a solemn nod, and Revali's uncertainty grew. Then Link's lips writhed, and he burst into laughter so abruptly, he might have fallen over if he hadn't already been seated.

Feathers going stiff, Revali glared at him, taken aback and anxious and offended all at once.

"I'm afraid I must have missed the joke," he ground out. "If you could perhaps enlighten me—"

"Were you really just going to give me your feather and say nothing about it?" Link managed to choke out. "Again?"

Revali was mortified to admit that his wings fluttered with agitation, staring aghast at the still-laughing Hylian.

"So… so I didn't tell you?" he asked in a strained voice, his earlier fears almost confirmed, except… "You do know, though. How did you…?"

"Teba," Link said, and Revali might have been indignant if he hadn't felt like such an idiot. Of course somebody would have mentioned it to Link eventually. A Hylian wearing a Rito's feather was too great an oddity for everyone to overlook. "It's not like the feather was hidden. I didn't know at first, but…" The shaking in his shoulders changed to something else, and Link bent over hurriedly, scrubbing at his eyes. "Ah, I don't believe it! I had a second chance to do this right, and I'm still going to cry."

All of Revali's disgruntled annoyance flew away at once, and he knelt in front of Link, gently attempting to pry his face up.

"If you do know," he insisted, his heart fluttering somewhere in his throat now, "then you should know that it would be natural to expect… some sort of response. Something other than laughter," he added dryly, and another wet laugh bubbled out of Link. "Perhaps the traditional Rito response is not possible, but—"

"How about this?" Link's eyes finally rose to meet Revali's with fierce, glistening joy before slipping shut as his lips pressed against the tip of Revali's beak.

Revali's eyebrows rose at the intimate gesture, though he waited for Link to pull back again to speak.

"I assume that was a Hylian custom?" he asked dubiously, and Link laughed again, shaking his head.

"Of course." Grasping Revali's beak, he brought it to his own nose to rub together gently, and Revali's breath caught. "How's this, then?"

"...Yes." Closing his own eyes, Revali returned the gesture, melting into his hands with a soft sigh. "Yes, that should do just fine."

The two of them sat quietly like that in their small patch of sunlight, birds and squirrels chittering quietly in the trees above as a soft breeze stirred the leaves, heavy with the scent of horses and sun-warmed pine. All of Revali's worries seemed to vanish beneath that sun, and he thought almost dreamily that if he had known before how this felt, his life might have taken a different trajectory entirely. Nothing he regretted, of course, just… something to notice.

Eventually, though, his awkward, crouched position forced him to stir.

"We really are losing daylight," he murmured unwillingly, but Link shook his head before he could stand, burying it against Revali's neck.

"It's not like there's any need to hurry now. Even if there was, I have the Rito's fastest flier to carry me."

Revali stiffened indignantly.

"I never said anything about—" Link claimed his beak beneath his lips again, running a gentle hand along it, and Revali paused. "We'll have to discuss it later."

Smiling against his beak, Link finally released him, and Revali stood with a groan, stretching each of his legs out in turn. Link's hand had returned to his feathered braid, running along its length as he watched with an absent smile, and Revali could already tell he would be forced to redo his work soon. The thought didn't exactly bother him, though.

"Where to first?" he asked at last, offering Link his wing, and Link stirred, coming back from his thoughts. "Tabantha Tower?"

"That was the original plan," Link agreed slowly, grasping Revali's hand and pulling himself to his feet. "Although… I know it's out of the way, but we could start at the Great Plateau. It isn't somewhere that would bring back memories, but I'd still like to show you… that is, I haven't been there since…"

"Of course," Revali agreed immediately, and Link relaxed. "I would hardly be keeping my end of the bargain if I refused."

"That's right!" Link realized, his face splitting into a grin as he shifted his bulky accordion to settle against his back. "You have to carry me up."

"Maybe," Revali allowed with a mischievous smile of his own. "Or maybe…"

He spun his finger in a circle to indicate spiraling wind, and if anything, Link's grin broadened.

"That would be fine, too," he agreed, turning to leave before stopping suddenly, his eyes lighting up. "Wait! Before we go…"

Pulling the Sheikah Slate from his belt, he bent over the device to flip quickly through screens. Before Revali could ask what he was doing, Link had grabbed him around the neck, pulling him in close with the slate extended in front of them.

"Smile!" Link said, staring at it with a familiar, cheesy grin of his own, and Revali instantly understood. There was a clicking sound, and Link released the grip on his neck, staring at the screen again with satisfaction. "There. Finally."

Revali stared alongside him, at a sudden loss for words. In all of the pictures he had ever seen taken by Link's hands, not once had he seen himself. No doubt capturing the visage of a ghost was beyond even the abilities of the ancient Sheikah… but here he was now alongside Link, the first image on a brand new slate. A blank slate, ready to be filled with new pictures and new adventures; a second chance, like the princess had said.

"Are you ready to go?" Link asked, the light of the sun catching in his braid, and Revali nodded, wiping quickly at his eyes.

"I'm ready."

Never in his life had he been so ready for something new.