LOVE IN A TIME OF CALAMITY
Part 2: After Catastrophe
Chapter 14: The Funeral, Part 2 — Pikango's Muse

A nice big one at over 6k words. Enjoy everyone! Author's note at bottom.

Chapter Warnings: None

Pikango was prepared. He'd purchased a new set of pencils and a fresh sketchbook, a fresh set of water colors, and food for the road. It had taken all of the money he'd saved selling the sketches from his recent "Hyrule Traveler" series, but he was certain it would be worth it.

Several weeks ago, a rather harried looking soldier had ridden through town and posted two large broadsheets on the village call board before departing, quickly and without word to any in the village. It had taken a few days for the news to circulate, but once it had Kakariko was a-buzz. One broadsheet informed citizens of the state of the Kingdom post-Calamity, and provided reassurances of stability and efforts by the crown to begin recovery. The Princess, it seemed, was leading the charge while several officials, including her father, recovered from injury. The other announced a funeral—to be held before the Castle Town gate for those that had fallen in the Calamity a few weeks thence. Details were scarce, simply providing a date, time, and short list of provided services, but almost immediately people began to make arrangements. Though Kakariko itself had not suffered during the Calamity—it's geographic location had kept it rather sheltered—everyone seemed to know someone who had.

Though he'd told people, when asked, that he too was going to mourn and support his fellow countrymen—which was true in part—the driving reason was his desire to capture this once-in-a-lifetime moment on paper; it would make a hell of an addition to his portfolio, and might even—finally—put his studio on the map. A bit self-serving? Perhaps. But that's what it took to be a successful artist—a little gumption, a little self-interest, and a whole lot of practice. He had the practice down pat—he'd been sketching and painting since he was a young man in his twenties—now he just needed to be a little bolder with his muse.

Sure it was a sad affair—funerals were always sad, but that didn't make it any less compelling as subject matter. He didn't know what he'd find or what would draw his artistic eye, but this was a pivotal moment—living, breathing history; he was sure there would be plenty to sketch. And, though he wasn't sure of the likelihood, he secretly hoped he might catch a glimpse of the Hero of Hyrule and the Princess of Destiny, as people had taken to calling them . A sketch of the two of them would certainly make a nice piece to add to his collection.

Pikango's brushes and pots jangled from the pack on his back as he neared the Wetland stable. He'd taken the shortcut down the Sahasra Slope from Kakariko and had so far enjoyed a solitary journey. However, as he neared the Stable the steady thrum of chatter began to overwhelm the chirping of birds and the buzzing of crickets, which had thus far characterized his journey. As he crested the hill and the Stable came into view, so too did the crowd of people responsible for the noise.

The stable was packed: so overwhelmed were the lodgings that guests had parked covered wagons and set up tents and bedrolls in a wide arc surrounding the establishment, even cramming into the woods behind it. The stable staff could be seen darting from tent to tent in a flustered flurry as families and couples and solo travelers went about their morning ablutions. He'd intended to stop here to prepare breakfast, not giving much thought to the plans or intentions of other travelers, but now that he was here…

Was this what every stable near Hyrule Field looked like? He had guessed that as he neared the castle he'd start to run in to others traveling to the funeral, but he'd never anticipated… What a sight! Pikango could feel his excitement swell and his fingers itch. Spotting a lone tree uphill a ways from the stable just off the road, Pikango made a slight detour, heading for the shaded trunk.

Pulling his pack off with an "Oomph!", he leaned it against the trunk of the tree before settling on the ground himself, digging through the pockets for his fresh sketchbook and pencils. Pulling his legs up and setting the book against them, he let inspiration flow through his fingertips.

It was heartwarming in some ways to see so many people coming to pay their respects. It was heartbreaking in others to see just how many people had been affected. Faces both young and old, happy and sad filled the stable and its grounds. There was such diversity present: sun-darkened figures from Lurelin, pale faces from the frigid north, even a few Zora could be seen wandering the crowds, near the river.

He'd become lost in his lines on the paper and so was not expecting the youthful voice which spoke suddenly from over his shoulder.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Pikango startled, fumbling with his pencil before dropping it to the ground. Delicately picking it up with two fingers, he turned in annoyance towards the voice only to be greeted by the impassive face of Ami hovering just over his shoulder. One of the young sons of the stable master, he and the uncannily intelligent child had struck up an odd friendship over the years, as he frequented the stable as a stop on his travels. Though admittedly, Ami's… inquisitive nature, could sometimes be trying on Pikango's patience.

He returned his attention to his sketchpad, attempting to shuffle off the distraction.

"Hello, Ami. I am doing what it looks like I am doing. I'm sketching."

Ami's impassive face suddenly appeared just above his sketchpad, and Pikango startled yet again. How did this child move so quietly?

"Yeah, I gathered that. But why are you drawing the stable? You've been here tons of times and never drawn it before."

Pikango was familiar with kids. Curious, impressionable, delicate little creatures they were. In Kakariko, when Koko's mother passed away any mention of illness or death sent her into bouts of tears. She once came across a dead lizard out in the woods while she was playing one day and ran back to the village sobbing. Ami was a smart kid, but he didn't really know how well he grasped the significance of the Calamity and, more immediately, the coming funeral. Best to tread carefully.

"Well," Pikango began carefully, "It's not so much the stable I'm interested in drawing as it is all the people staying at the stable, and why. Make sense?"

Ami's usually impassive face somehow looked even more solemn as he answered.

"Yeah, makes sense. It's because everyone is heading to the funeral."

Pikango nodded, eying the child's heavy eyes. Had Ami lost someone in the Calamity, he wondered?

"Are you going to the funeral?" Ami asked, turning his gaze towards the distant Hyrule Castle, just visible on the horizon.

"That I am," Pikango answered following his gaze, "I figured once I was done with this here little sketch I'd continue on my way. I was going to stop here for breakfast but it seems a few too many others had the same idea."

Ami's expression briefly lit up as he reached into his vest and pulled out an apple.

"If you're hungry, then have this! Mom insisted I have fruit with my breakfast, but I've never liked apples."

He extended his hand, little fingers gripping the shiny red fruit. Pikango's stomach rumbled. He'd brought plenty of ingredients for preparing meals but had foolishly managed to overlook meals of the grab-and-go variety. With a somewhat sheepish grin Pikango plucked the apple from the little boys hands and rubbed it quickly on his shirt.

"Thank Ami. This will hit the spot."

He smiled, nodding. "No problem! You're doing me a favor."

Pikango took a solid bite out of the fruit, returning his attention to the notebook before him, pondering the scene. He still had a few more details to add, but with a little more shading he thought he just about had it. Raising his pencil in his other hand, he moved it thoughtfully towards the paper.

"You know," Ami interrupted. Pikango stilled, trying to stifle rising annoyance. The kid had just given him breakfast.

"Me and my Mom and my Grandma are taking one of the wagons to the castle for the funeral in about an hour if you'd like to come with us. There's plenty of room, and Grandma loves art."

Oh. Pikango lifted his head to meet the cooly calculating eyes of Ami. A wagon ride might be nice, save his legs a little for the return journey, but this seemed like the kind of thing that came with a catch.

"That would be great," he responded with a smile, narrowing his eyes slightly, "Your Grandma likes art, huh?"

Ami looked away and shuffled his feet.

"Yeah. And, if I'm honest, I figure if she has you to talk to then I don't have to entertain her. She has bad breath."

Pikango chuckled. There was always a catch with this kid. Still, he was not one to turn down a free ride. Walking back up Sahasra Hill often made him debate the merits of taking the long way back to Kakariko. Best if he save up energy.

"I think I'll take you up on that offer, Ami."

Ami brightened. "Cool! I'll go tell mom." He then turned and scurried back down the hill towards the bustling stable, weaving in and out of travelers.

Pikango leaned back against the tree, watching the kid go. Better finish up his sketch then. Taking another bite out of his apple, he looked back down at his notebook and put pencil to paper, melting into the task.

-:-:-:-

An hour later found Pikano seated in the back of a rickety wooden wagon, attempting to sketch Hyrule field with a reedy elderly woman leaning eagerly over his shoulder. Clearly this habit in Ami was a family trait.

A gentle breeze ruffled the pages of his notebook as he tried to center his attention solely on the paper before him, adding detail to the castle where it poked up above the gently rolling hills of the field. He'd already sketched much of the field itself, and the line of travelers and caravans filling the road heading to the gates of Castle Town. It was quite a sight, really. He'd traveled through Hyrule field plenty of times, and while it was never empty it was never this full either. The road was packed with travelers, all heading in the same direction like pilgrims to a new land.

"Ah, Hyrule castle," droned Emily, Ami's grandmother who'd been observing Pikango's work over his shoulder. The smell of fish and vinegar and old age wafted suddenly into his nose. Woof. Ami wasn't kidding. Halitosis, much? She turned her head momentarily away from Pikango to look at the castle proper—thank the goddesses—before speaking again, "Even that sturdy, ageless structure suffered under the calamity. Truly a shame."

Pikango added some shading to the castle's eaves and some detail to the brick, leaning a little more forward as he eyed his work critically, but was interrupted by the pungent fish-smell that was Emily's breath as she leaned into him and whispered conspiratorially, "I heard the Princess herself arranged this entire funeral, all because the council couldn't be bothered. She's going to be giving a big speech at sunset you know. She'd be well within her right to call them out on it, if you ask me."

Pikango perked at this information. An opportunity to see the Princess and her knight! Maybe there would be a chance for that most compelling sketch! His demeanor changed as he realized that maybe Emily was worth more than her bad breath.

Flashing a charming smile, Pikango turned to her, "Really? I hadn't heard. Do tell."

Emily's face lit up as the tempered grin of an experienced gossip monger took over her features, "Oh, yes. I heard it was QUITE the council meeting! I've got an old friend in the castle, see. Those old coots tried to just bowl her over—take advantage of her young age, but she wouldn't have it. Apparently our Princess gave those stodgy council members a right talking-to about the sacrifices of Hyrule's ordinary folk! Just like the Queen, Goddesses bless her!"

She leaned a little more forward, raising a hand as she whispered in earnest.

"And, I heard her knight—the Hero Link, was nominated to be the General of the Hyrulean army—and he refused! All to remain the the Princess' appointed knight! If you ask me, I think he might just have an ulterior motive, if you know what I mean." She waggled her eyebrows subtly with this final revelation, "She is a lovely girl."

Pikango nodded vigorously. Ah, the flowering of young love! Or, well, rumor of the flowering of young love! Truly such a pair would be star-crossed lovers, much like the subjects of the ancient Hylian romantic poets and painters. Hmmm… He'd have to be sure to keep an eye out. Maybe there was more opportunity here than he'd originally thought.

Quickly, Pikango added the final touches to his sketch so he could return his attention to Emily's juicy and informative gossip, but was distracted by the sight which greeted him as they rounded the final bend in the road. Ami's mother gasped, the reigns slackening in her hands. Before them not a half mile ahead milled hundreds—no, thousands!—of people, gathered before the newly rebuilt southern Castle Town gate. A tall, wide podium rose above the crowd, erected before the closed gates, and large banners of blue, red, and gold hung from the wall. Flags fluttered in the breeze atop the parapets, which were patrolled by guards in shining silver armor. The most striking feature, however, were the two monuments placed on either side of the road leading into the city. They were difficult to make out from this distance but they looked like two short walls covered in etchings, each surrounded by people.

Ami's quiet voice interrupted the solemn moment from the front of the wagon.

"Wow."

Wow, indeed. Never had Pikango seen so many people in one place before, not even at the Necluda Harvest festival, and it was one of the largest seasonal events in Hyrule.

"My gracious." Pikango turned to Emily beside him whose hand was clasped loosely over hear heart as she stared transfixed at the sight before her.

Utilizing the utmost discretion, Pikango quietly flipped the page of his sketch book and quickly set pencil to paper. He wouldn't have time to capture much before they noticed him, he'd have to be quick about getting the rough outlines first and fill in the details from memory later. First a hunched figure in a wagon, a woman and young boy at the driver's seat, a saddled horse, the road, people milling in the distance, trees, the walls, the banners…

"Dear man, is that supposed to be me?! I look like a hunch-back! Fix that immediately!" accused an affronted Emily, whose attentions had returned to Pikango's notebook. Pikango looked up, the smell of vinegar pungent once more in his nose. Exhaling subtly to clear the foul smell from his nostrils, he turned to face the old woman. Well! He hadn't necessarily expected praise, but he hadn't expected criticism either. What a fussy old bat!

"It's a rough outline, I'll be fine-tuning it later," he responded shortly. Emily eyed him suspiciously.

"Well. You better." With those succinct words she turned away and returned her gaze to the fields beyond. From up front he could see Ami swivel in his seat, eying Pikango with a twinkle in his eye. Though perhaps childish, Pikango stuck out his tongue. Ami flashed a wicked grin, then turned back around to face the road. He could see why the kid had wanted Pikango along. He imagined spending frequent time with Emily could wear a kid out (and if not that, then certainly contribute to the singing of nose hairs). Still, he'd gotten breakfast and a free ride. He supposed it was a reasonable price to pay.

Ahead an impromptu stable had been arranged on the side of the road for horses and wagons, bordered by a hastily built wooden fence and manned by several guards. The sun was beginning its descent after its mid-day peak, and as Ami's mother turned the wagon into the lot excitement began to build within the artist. He had finally arrived—time to make the most of this opportunity.

-:-:-:-

Pikango was adjusting himself in his impromptu tree-seat, finding a comfortable place to lean back as he settled his sketchbook into his lap. He and Ami's family had parted ways about an hour ago. Pikango had wandered through the crowd, trying to find a good vantage point from which to view the podium, but every time he thought he found a good spot others followed and blocked his view. After a while he spotted some young kids climbing up a tree, pointing eagerly at the podium, and decided to follow suit. Choosing one in direct view, he'd climbed and settled into the split within the branches. A few limbs had blocked him, but with a couple well-placed kicks he'd managed to dislodge the obstructions, leaving them dangling from the tree and out of his field of vision.

Finally settling into a comfortable position, Pikango stared up at the branches. There was still a little over an hour to go until sunset, and Pikango had sketched all he wanted to sketch until the Princess' speech. Perhaps a review was in order. Looking down at the sketchbook in his lap, he flipped to the first page.

Wetland stable greeted him, the head of Malanya, the Horse God, rising high above the overcrowded building. Indistinct figures milled about—he hadn't had time for actual faces, and wagons and horses filled the remaining space. He flipped the page.

A reedy, wrinkled woman greeted him. Stern, dark eyes stared out of the page, framed by wispy, white, shoulder-lengthy hair. Hardly his best sketch, he'd just sort of thrown it together, but Emily had insisted. It did have a strange sort of charm, somehow. He flipped several more pages.

A flat stone monument with intricate carvings stood erect before the Castle Town wall, surrounded by a bed of flowers with wooden posts on either side, supporting softly glowing lanterns. A wooden bench sat before it, upon which several figures were hunched. One had their head in their hands, clearly crying. Another stared solemnly at the names carved into the stone's surface. Kneeling before the monument, hand tracing one name in particular, was a young woman with a lone tear running down her cheek as she gazed unseeing at the stone before her. A smug grin alighted upon his face. He was rather proud of this one. He flipped the page.

A young woman with a large pack and brunette pig tails, her face dotted with freckles, chatted intently with a guard who looked rather disinterested in her presence. He chuckled, then flipped the page.

This one held a collection of small sketches rather than any single scene. In one corner he'd sketched one of the Hyrulean banners, in another the helmed face of one of the guards, eyes serious; in yet another, the champion's platform to the left of the central podium, decorated with tall banners in blue, red, and gold. The champions had not yet arrived when he'd done this sketch, much to his disappointment—he would have loved to capture them as well.

He was startled out of his reverie by the blaring of trumpets which overpowered the chatter of people filling the ceremony site. Turning his attention away from his sketchbook, Pikango glanced around in confusion. The sunlight which had been filtering into the trees, earlier a blinding white, was now a soft gold. It seemed evening was upon him already—He always did get so absorbed in his art. Another round of trumpets blared, and he sat up a bit in his seat, turning his attention to the center podium. There stood several pages, trumpets held against their lips and a flagpole in their other hand. He sat up straight, renewed focus and energy flooding him. With eagerness he flipped to a clean page within his notebook and set his pencil to the paper, waiting.

As the trumpeters finished, the crowd hushed and a herald stepped forward, thumping his staff twice with great force atop the wooden podium. "Announcing her Highness, Princess Zelda Cerynn Hyrule."

From an unseen set of stairs at the rear of the podium the Princess ascended, walking gracefully towards the front railing. The Hero followed closely behind her, as did several royal guards who formed a line along the rear of the podium behind the Hero, just out of sight in the shadows.

She was dressed all in black, wearing a simple, unadorned gown, the long sleeves of which billowed in the breeze along with her golden hair. Her diadem shone atop her head, glinting in the evening light. She looked out over the crowd with large, somber, serious eyes, gently placing her hands atop the wooden railing. In turn, the crowd had stilled to a tense silence. None had seen the princess since her remarkable feats defeating the Calamity, and, though immensely curious, none knew what to expect. She began softly, though her voice held strength.

"Greetings, and welcome. I know many of you traveled far to be here today, and I thank you—all of you—for your presence."

"I speak to you today, not as the Princess of Hyrule, but as a citizen of this great Kingdom. Each of you who stands here before me, despite hailing from different regions and backgrounds, has the same thing in common: loss. You have come to say farewell; to mourn your lost loved ones, and to share in the heartache of this great tragedy."

She paused, closing her eyes. As she opened them, they darted briefly to her knight standing off to the side before continuing, focusing on the crowd with intensity.

"I share that with you."

She lifted a hand to her heart, gaze sweeping the riveted crowd, "Hyrule is my home, and all of its people are my family. So many were lost… and each of those losses hurts. Every night since the Calamity, I have lain awake feeling that hurt ache in my heart. I have no doubt I am not alone in this, and so this I also share with you." She held herself almost unnaturally still, letting her words linger before continuing in a quieter voice.

"I am reminded of the loss of the Queen, my mother, a decade ago." The crowd began to shift as quiet murmurs filled the space. The princess had never spoken of the loss of her mother; in fact she had become well known for her stolidness in the face of such a tragedy—rumor had it she never once cried. And after the funeral and the raid on the Yiga, the King hadn't spoken much of it either.

Pikango's sketchbook lay momentarily forgotten where it rested in his lap. The crowd seemed equally enraptured.

The Princess continued undaunted, her soft voice silencing the murmuring crowd. "That was a pain which cut deeply into my heart, and to this day there still remains a scar. In the months which followed her death, though I gave every effort to moving past it, still I found myself silently lost to despair. I didn't understand how I was ever supposed to get over the loss of something so great—so close to my heart. It felt as though I would awaken every morning feeling this pain, as fresh and as sharp as the day the Yiga assassin claimed her life." She paused once more, sorrow evident upon her delicate features.

"I imagine many of you must feel the same."

Utter silence filled the clearing, and as her words rang in his head, Pikango couldn't help but remember the last time he'd seen little Koko, stifling her sobs as she knelt, alone, before her mother's grave at the edge of the village. A lump formed in the back of his throat, and with effort he swallowed it back.

Reluctantly tearing his gaze from the Princess, Pikango took a moment to survey the crowd. Throughout the clearing husbands held wives and children clung to parents. A young woman held a hand to their mouth as tears flowed freely from her eyes. An older gentleman and his wife clung to each other as he lifted a hand to wipe away her tears, wetness shining in his own eyes. Pikango suddenly felt something wet drop atop his hand. Looking down, he saw a single tear resting atop the back of his hand. With shaky fingers he lifted his hand to his face, and felt the wet track along his cheek.

His eyes were drawn back to the podium upon hearing the Princess' soft voice echo out over the crowd once more. "One day in my despair, I begged a friend: 'How am I ever to forget her? How could it ever stop hurting?' I will never forget her words. She said: 'My little bird; I love you, and so will not lie to you: You will never forget her, and in some ways it will never stop hurting. Death is not an end, it is a change. It is in our nature to fight this change with all that we have, but it is a fight we will always lose. We are our scars, as much as we are our joys and triumphs. You must come to accept this experience as a part of you, and when you do, you will see the path forward."

The Princess shut her eyes as she took a breath.

"And she was right."

"Though it took time and the support of many people—and though it hurt more than words can express, I finally came to accept my mother's passing, and I came to accept how that experience had changed me. It was then, and only then, that I could see how to keep living, and how to keep her alive despite the fact that she was no longer with me."

A small, fragile smile alighted upon the Princess' somber features, "I know it was my mother's every wish to see me happy and thriving, not wallowing in sorrow. And so every day, no matter how difficult, I make a choice not to despair but instead to live my life to its fullest in celebration of her memory. And to this end, I remember her: her tenderness, her kindness, her love and her strength. I hold these things close to my heart, and do all I can to embody these qualities in myself. For while she is no longer by my side, she is never truly gone if she lives in my heart."

That lump was back in Pikango's throat, and despite himself he could feel tears welling in his eyes once more. Though he couldn't bring himself to pull his gaze from the Princess, he knew every other person present was in a similar state.

"As my dear friend, and many others, were there for me, I beg all of you to be there for each other. We are part of the same Kingdom—members of the same family, spread out across these vast lands, but no less connected by our shared history and mutual love for Hyrule. We have only each other. I ask each of you to be there for one another—to be kind, and understanding of the difficulties we are all sharing; and as I ask this of you, so too do I pledge to be there for each of you."

She paused to gaze out across the crowd, her eyes sweeping over the many assembled faces before she spoke again, louder this time and with resolve. "And so here, today, let us gather to remember those whom we have lost." The Princess raised both of her hands, gesturing towards the two monuments on either side of the road, "In these monuments do we mark their time here on earth, and honor the place they held within these lands, and the place they will always hold within our hearts."

Like the sun breaking through the clouds, she smiled, brilliant and radiant, its light shining out across the gathered crowd.

The princess lifted a hand without turning from the crowd. The Hero stepped forward, coming from where he'd been hidden in the shadows to stand beside her. He stood tall, face impassive and arms held behind his back. The people of Hyrule had not seen much of the Hero over the past year, and often when they had he had been dressed more casually in his champion's tunic, pack on his back escorting the Princess across Hyrule as she journeyed to the sacred springs.

But now… now, he was dressed in Knight's armor, standing tall and regal. Though the other castle guards were also dressed in Knight's armor, the Hero stood out from the rest: he lacked a helmet, for one, revealing his blond hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, and his tabard was a lighter blue, bearing the design of a champion rather than the Hyrulean crest as was tradition. More than that, though, the Master Sword hung from his side, marking him as the Chosen of Hylia herself. And together, with the Princess standing tall with regal authority beside him… well, they rather looked like a King and Queen.

Two stewards appeared suddenly, one beside the princess and one beside the Hero, each proffering a glowing paper lantern the size of a large pumpkin, and both in Hyrulean blue. The Princess reached for hers first, followed by the Hero. Holding them just above the wooden railing, the lanterns illuminated their faces in pale blue, a stark contrast to the golden light of the setting sun.

The row of soldiers standing behind the two of them knelt down synchronously, rising with similar glowing paper lanterns, but white in color. The Princess raised a hand towards the row of soldiers behind her, and together they took a step forward out of the shadows.

"May these lanterns represent the souls of our loved ones as they ascend into the silent realm, to rest in peace with the Goddesses. Be at peace, friends."

Behind her the guards released their lanterns and as one, they rose slowly into the air, glowing brightly against the darkening sky. Task completed, the guards took a step back, resuming their positions in the shadows at the rear of the podium. The Princess then returned her attention to the lantern in her hand. Though her voice quavered ever so slightly, it still held the confident authority of a Princess.

"And may our fallen champions, Master Revali of the Rito, and Princess Mipha of the Zora, be greeted at the gates of the silent realm with honor and dignity by the Goddesses themselves, for it is due in part to their sacrifice that we are able to stand here today."

For the first time since she began to speak, a single tear rolled silently down her cheek as she turned her head momentarily towards her hero, who met her gaze steadfastly. His prior stoicism slowly melted away as their eyes locked, his gaze transforming into one of tenderness. A wordless understanding passed between them—a shared pain. Subtly, and with the merest hint of a smile, he nodded his head. The Princess' gaze lingered only for a moment before she returned her attention to the balloon in her hand, the Hero following suit. Together, they lifted them above their heads and released simultaneously, eyes tracking as the glowing blue orbs slowly ascended to join their brethren higher in the sky.

The hero stepped to the side then, resuming his stoic facade as he pulled a bow from his back and knocked an odd-looking arrow. The row of soldiers behind him followed suit. The Princess turned her attention to the crowd before her, expression now calm as she spoke with renewed strength.

"May we honor their lives in the actions of our own, and may their memories live on in our hearts forevermore."

The princess then began to recite a traditional funeral rite, as one by one the row of archers behind her released their arrows.

"By the will of the Three are we born of their love.
By guidance of the Three do we live in harmony.
By decree of the Three, when our time is through, do we return to the silent realm anew."

High in the sky the arrows exploded into a brilliant shower of white sparks, illuminating the sky above the balloons and throwing them into sharp relief against the twilight sky. The crowd gasped, gazing skyward in awe as murmurs rippled across the thronging mass, light from the showering sparks illuminating tear-streaked faces.

"May the Three greet you at journey's end:
Din from whose power came the land;
Nayru from whose wisdom came order of strife;
Farore from whose courage came all life.
To them your soul do we release.
In tenderness and truth, find peace."

Upon her final words, the hero released his arrows. They flew higher into the sky than the others and when they exploded, they did so in a brilliant shower of gold sparks far grander than any of the others. The princess finished the rite by marking herself with the golden triangle, drawing a hand from the top of her bowed forehead to her left shoulder, across to her right, then up again. Looking up, she then smiled ever so slightly, turning briefly to catch the Hero's gaze before gently lifting her skirts and heading towards the steps at the rear of the platform.

By that point Pikango had ceased to pay attention. The sparks had jarred him back to reality, and back to his original purpose for being there. His head was bent, cheeks still wet as he scribbled furiously in his notebook. The sight of the two of them, standing there together… Bearing a shared sorrow with regal poise and purpose! Such tenderness! Such silent affection! Perhaps the rumors about them hadn't been wrong…

Quickly Pikango flipped the page, immediately setting to work on the outline of another sketch, focusing to keep every moment of her speech in his mind's eye as he preserved scene after scene on paper. Minutes passed, then half an hour, then an hour, and as Pikango put the finishing touches on his sixth sketch he finally looked up, feeling his neck crack with stiffness as he did so. The sun had set, a while ago it seemed by the darkness which now pervaded the ceremony site. Lanterns illuminated the area, hung from poles held by guards spaced throughout the clearing. A large bonfire had been built and now blazed with light and warmth in the center of the junction in the road, with simple wooden benches placed around it. People filled the available seating, eating and chatting. Everyone was eating, it seemed. Hm… food? Where had everyone gotten so much food?

Looking up towards the podium where the Princess had given her speech, he spotted a line of people winding their way up a set of steps which had been placed before the podium, the railing removed to allow people access to what he now realized was a long table filled to the brim with various dishes. Pikango felt his stomach grumble. He glanced quickly at his sketchbook, then back to the podium. Perhaps a dinner break was in order. Stashing his notebook and pencils back into his pack, he clambered down the tree and headed north.

A half hour later found him seated around the bonfire with Granny Emily, Ami, and his mother Serina finishing the delicious meal provided by the castle. The princess hadn't spared any effort: There was roast duck, curried rice, freshly baked bread, cream of mushroom soup, a variety of fruits… The smells alone caused his mouth to water as he had approached the podium.

As he finished off the last of his bread, Grandma Emily ranting on about the rumors she'd picked up within the crowd next to him, he felt a strange peace settle over him. It hadn't been anything overly grand the Princess had arranged, despite the fireworks—there was no procession or formal honoring as there had been in mass funerals of the past, and in all honesty that podium had been shoddily built. It was simply a gathering of citizens, warmed by a cozy fire with bellies full of good food reminiscing about those they'd lost; but he felt connected to his Kingdom in a way he hadn't since he was a child. All of this… her words, the meal, this atmosphere she had created, it felt like just the thing needed to heal the aching souls that occupied these lands. She really was proving to be quite the born leader, even if it was only temporary—and at such a young age!

Setting down his napkin onto his lap, he reached into his pack and pulled out his sketchbook and began flipping through it. He'd managed to create quite a number, possibly the most he'd ever done in a single day. As he analyzed his work, he felt happy with all of them, but one in particular stood out: The Princess and her Hero, gazing deeply into one another's eyes as they held their balloons, just moments before releasing them into the sky. It resonated with him. Looking at their faces, the sense of mutual loss but also hope… Snapping his notebook shut, he grinned. There it was: the subject for his next painting—and possibly a new muse. Move over, Elmond Faire Payton, there's a new romantic painter in Hyrule!

Boy was he glad he decided to come.

A/N: Ah! My favorite chapter of Part 2. Second favorite is the week after next, and third favorite is next week. Things are about to get exciting! Hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! Though-hah! You all thought the overzealous artist would be Faris. Made-ya-look! Well, okay, to be fair some of you figured it, so kudos to you.

Also, double kudos if Elmond Faire Payton was not lost on you.

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Thanks to all those who reviewed last chapter!

JPH3: That's right, Harold the Herald. I went there. Wut-wut?! And yeah, its a lot of exposition. Not sure I'm entirely happy with that much exposition all at once but that's a conundrum for a possible super-edit waaaaay down the road. For now, I think it works.

Guest: Ooh, thank you! Glad I can oblige.

CoOpGame: Thank you! Yeah, this is a long and in-depth story so I really wanted to dig into their brains, flesh out their motivations.

Markus-Antonius: TYVM :3

Sonochu: Yeah I'm not super sold on the specific numbers, though I don't know if I want Castle Town to have more thank 4 or 5 thousand residents. BoTW Hyrule doesn't really have that many people in each of its towns and villages-I think Lurelin has like, what, fifteen people? Maybe twenty? And Gerudo town has, like, what, fifty at most? I'm kind of anticipating a pre-calamity world to have more people than the post-calamity world, but even still the areas aren't that big and can't support that many residents. I might make changes later down the road, tighten it up, but for now I'll stick with the numbers I've got. It isn't that super important of a detail anyway, just the idea that, relative to the total population, a good number of people died.

Lordrednight: Yeah, they're still teenagers, even if they're very mature teenagers, lol. A lot of people in BoTW kind of made it clear the Princess' fancy for her knight was not all that well hidden, so I'm kinda rolling with that idea.

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And responses to chapter 12! See, I got around to it eventually.

Lordrednight: Yup. It's the teenager thing again. Kids in love, I'm tellin' you. lol.

Sherlockinater: Yeah, actually, now that you mention it... that line was a carry over from an earlier draft where Link was written to be a bit more flowery in his language and descriptions, something I changed down the road. Might go back and mellow that out a bit. Dunno. Though I think at this point a super-edit after its all finished is proving more and more likely. And yeah. 17 year old tasked with preventing the end of the world? I'd crack under the pressure a bit, too.

Guest/Aura: Lol, yeah, there's so much hidden in the game it can be tough to keep track. I came across this story line like, a week ago, and it provided a whole new perspective on a particular character and I love it so I just had to go back and change some of the stuff at the end of part 2 and the beginning of part 3 because I wanted to incorporate it into the story line. I'm trolling the wiki like a beast and even still, I KEEP FINDING NEW STUFF! Hot damn, Nintendo.

Markus-Antonius: Thank you, as always :D

Guest/IAmDahn: Thank you! Faris will have an interesting roll, I'm actually glad I decided to add him back in (thank you Amarok Walker!).

Ultimate Blazer: TY! Hope this lived up to expectations.

colbet11: Right on, man! Well, I hope you dig long-term commitments because my current estimate for this story is a completed length of 200-250k words, 60-ish chapters, and 7 total parts. lol.

0ribtal: Thank you! Yeah, there's going to be a lot of characters in this story, and they'll all intersect in various ways. And I can assure you there will definitely be a LOT more after the funeral (see above response, haha). I'm actually pretty stoked about how the chapters depicting the events immediately after the funeral are coming along. I had a pretty grand vision in my head and it's actually panning out. Woohoo!

LongSchlongJohn: Shameless flattery, sir. I'll take it.

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So, as usual, I'll see you all next week! Don't forget to leave a review :]