They start, apparently, with Zora's Domain.

It lies almost directly north of the Dueling Peaks Stable, but Link has decided to ride south and west first, towards the open Hyrule field, instead of traversing the Lanayru mountain range directly. Given that the road north leads directly through Sheikah territory, Ganon is perfectly fine with taking the easier, more circuitous route.

He does everything short of sleeping with his sword in his hand the first night at the Dueling Peaks Stable, expecting a knife in his back at any moment – but to his amazement, the night passes peacefully. The next day dawns clear and warm, perfect for traveling.

Despite his mistrust of the Hero's intentions, Ganon chooses not to wear his armor again; or at least, not all of it. The vambraces, gauntlets and greaves are obviously of fine make but otherwise plain enough, lacking any markings beyond the generic Gerudo patterns. The gorget, breastplate and ornamental belt, on the other hand, all feature designs and script reserved exclusively for royalty, so he discards them for now, and uses only his under-armor. It'd be just his luck if the Hero could read Gerudo, and had simply forgotten he could. He'd get rid of them entirely, at least for the moment, but he doesn't trust the boy an inch. Better to have it close at hand – just in case.

"The easiest way to Zora's domain is north past the Riverside Stable, which I happen to have been to," Ganon tells him as they mount their horses and set off. "Once we cross the Proxim Bridge, we can cut north from the East Post Ruins. There's a road that runs almost directly to it. We should reach it by sundown if we don't stop."

Link nods, a small almost-smile ghosting around the corners of his mouth. It's not fully formed; more of a minute, friendly slant of the lips. This doesn't make it any less jarring to see.

They set out at an easy canter, slowing to a walk occasionally to rest their horses, and the journey under the Dueling Peaks passes easily enough. But as they leave the towering mountains behind, bruised-looking storm clouds start to roll in from the south, blotting out the sun. Before they've even reached Proxim Bridge, the first fat raindrops start falling. Ganon curses, drawing his hood up as thunder booms somewhere not too far off. If his magic were stronger, he could simply create a shield against the rain and lightning both – but that sort of sustained magic is draining. Besides which, there's no reason to go carelessly revealing the extent of his abilities to the Hero when he doesn't need to. His magic could easily give him the advantage in a real fight, if it came to that. Which all means that right now he's at the mercy of the elements… and carrying a metal weapon.

"I suggest we find shelter and wait this out," he says as another roll of thunder passes overhead. "Unless you've a fancy for getting struck by lightning."

Link nods and points towards the ruins on the far side of the bridge. "Woods behind the East Post," he says, and they spur their horses into a gallop, dodging the crumbling architecture as the skies open above them. As they reach the shelter of the woods, Link looks back into the grey curtain of rain now obscuring the ruins behind them.

"... Someone cleared out the moblins," he says as they dismount.

"That would be me." Link's eyebrows rise slightly in surprise; Ganon feels caught between feeling smug and offended, but all he does is shrug a shoulder as he bends to wring water out of the edge of his cloak. "I was heading east before we met," he says laconically.

The trees in these little woods are thick enough that the driving rain hardly reaches the ground, and they settle under the largest and driest of them to wait out the downpour. It's by no means perfect, but at least they're not the tallest things in an open field now. With nothing better to do, Ganon double-checks his tack and saddlebags, dries off his gauntlets and greaves, then settles into a standard training set with his claymore. Link, who'd been sitting against a tree looking out into the storm, shifts his gaze over to him. He watches unblinkingly as Ganon moves through the steps of the set, claymore whistling effortlessly through the air around him. Such close scrutiny from the Hero, of all people, makes the spot between his shoulder blades itch. It's not even a particularly challenging set – though with his memories gone, perhaps the boy doesn't know that.

An idea occurs to Ganon.

He stabs the point of the sword into the grass and turns to face Link. "Spar with me."

There's an eager light in Link's eyes as he stands and draws his own sword, like he'd just been waiting for an invitation. Once again Ganon remembers the sacred blade, and wonders where it could have gone. The boy and the blade are practically one, after all. He wonders if he'd even be able to fight Demise without it.

But that's a concern for another time. Ganon takes a breath and sweeps everything from his mind but the present. The smell of the rain, the grass under his feet, the warrior and the blade in front of him. Time to find out how much of his Goddesses-given strength the Hero has retained – and how it measures up to his own.

To his surprise, Link falls naturally into a Gerudo stance known as saa've vehsun – fool's guard, in Hylian. He must have trained extensively with them at some point; it's not a stance usually taught to beginners. Hand by his hip, swordpoint low, it's a stance designed to lure opponents into attacking. Well, far be it from Ganon to disappoint: he settles into standard day guard, sword high over his shoulder.

They circle slowly for a moment, each studying the other. Then, all at once, Ganon steps forward, throwing a lazy downward strike. Not terribly difficult to parry, but not exactly easy, either. Sparring with naked steel isn't wise – but it feels right. Link catches his slash against the broad side of his blade, and then they're trading blows. It's not even close to the frenetic pace of their previous battles, though. Part of that is due to the terrain: Ganon's advantage in reach is muted by the close trees surrounding them, and the roots and undergrowth threaten to trip them both up. But part of it is simply that they're weak. He can feel the difference when Link's blade clashes against his: neither of them have anywhere near the power they once had.

And while Link has obviously retained some muscle memory, his blows lack the wild, killer instinct he remembers. His technique is a strange mix of Hylian, Gerudo, and what he thinks might even be Zora, and it see-saws back and forth between masterful and sloppy. Ganon falls back into hayaaq'ava – dawn's gate, a defensive stance – to observe him for a moment as he parries one strike and dodges another. Link's swings fly just a little too wide (like he's used to wielding a sword that's slightly longer), leaving an opening at the end of the arc… there.

He rushes in, takes advantage of Link's surprise to lever a foot behind him, and uses his sheer bulk to topple the other man. Link lands with a grunt as the air is forced out of his lungs, but instead of immediately rolling to avoid a follow-up strike, he blinks dazedly.

A golden opportunity to run him through, if there ever was one.

Instead he offers his hand, and the Hero takes it. He rises with a determined glint in his eyes, and says, "again."

A savage smile breaks across Ganon's face. The boy may have lost most of his strength, but his fighting spirit is certainly undiminished. He steps back and falls into day guard again. This time Link doesn't bother with the fool's guard, choosing Hylian sky guard instead, hands by his head, sword-point forward. He strikes first, and quicker than last time, and Ganon is forced to step back to try and put some space between them. All the reach advantage in the world is useless in close quarters, and that's exactly where Link is trying to put himself. His swings are still too wide, though; perhaps after this round, he'll let the Hylian know. Ganon dodges a swing, waits until the very end of the arc, then steps forward again, aiming a stabbing blow at Link's shoulder.

Link follows the swing through into a pivot, Ganon's sword goes flying, and –

– and the tip of the Hero's blade is hovering near his jaw, rock-steady.

He knew.

The Hero identified his own weakness, and then used it to lure Ganon in. He stays completely still, eyes wide; every instinct he has is shouting at him to fight, fight, kill before he can kill you –

Link puts up his sword, looking satisfied, and wanders over to fetch the claymore from where it landed in the undergrowth. Ganon lets out a quiet breath, and the jagged tension under his skin dissipates little by little.

"You're fast."

Ganon's eyebrows rise skeptically as he turns his head toward Link, still on edge. Is the Hero… mocking him? "Not as fast as you, clearly."

"Faster than most." Link offers him back his claymore hilt-first. "Again?" he asks, and there's something unsure in his voice. Does he think he'll be put off by a single lost round? Ridiculous. Ganon breathes through his nose, expelling the last of the tautness in his shoulders.

"Again."

They go a few more rounds after that, but there's less intensity to them. Every time Ganon attempts to quicken the pace, Link draws back into a defensive stance; he wonders if it's the boy's own preference, or if he perceived his discomfort earlier. If that's the case he needs to watch his expressions more carefully – his mothers would be ashamed at him giving away his feelings like that. At last, the rain tapers off and the clouds part, revealing a vivid, red-gold sunset. Ganon sheaths his claymore, surprised: he hadn't realized so much time had passed.

It's too late to keep riding, unless they want to spend the last part of their journey wading through stalkoblins – and besides, now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he's starting to notice just how sore he is. Link is certainly a more worthy opponent than the moblins and bokoblins he's been facing so far. From the slight stiffness in the other man's movements as he deposits his sword by his pack, he suspects Link feels similarly.

They make quick work of setting up camp; Ganon takes on the job of collecting firewood from the mostly-dry forest floor, and when he comes back, Link has managed to produce a cooking pot, a hunk of raw meat that looks like it might be mutton, and an entire pumpkin.

Where in Din's name… was he keeping all that in his saddlebags?

He gets his answer soon enough, as it turns out. He busies himself lighting the fire with a knife and some flint, and when he sits back, he's treated to the sight of Link elbow-deep in a pack that's definitely not big enough for an entire forearm.

"How are you doing that?" He gestures to where Link's arm is now almost completely swallowed by the pack. Link flicks his gaze up to him, then back down.

That not-quite-a-smile is back. "Secret."

His hand comes back out of the bag holding a bundle of various dried herbs. Ganon gives him a flat look, which Link has the audacity to completely ignore as he focuses on removing the top of the pumpkin. He looks at the bag, eyes narrowed: there's some sort of magic on it, that much he can tell, but he'll be damned if he can figure out what it is, exactly. It feels nothing like standard spatial magic, the kind he'd use to warp or to store his weapons away for later summoning.

"Fine then," he huffs. "Keep your secrets."

He has to admit, though, that whatever the magic on the bag, the stuffed pumpkin is absolutely delicious. Of all the skills for Hylia's chosen to have, a talent for cooking never would have crossed his mind.

He offers to take first watch that night. As the moon rises, he contemplates the Hero, sleeping with his back to the fire as it burns low, and wonders how much else he doesn't know.


Link isn't quite sure what to make of his new traveling companion. The man is clearly intelligent, confident, and a capable fighter – but truth be told that's not why he agreed to the company. He agreed because this man, this Gerudo, feels… different to everyone else he's met so far, in a way Link can't put his finger on, no matter how hard he tries. It's this whisper of a feeling at the back of his mind, so subtle he can't tell if he's imagining it or not.

He almost – and this is the strangest thing of all – he almost feels familiar. Which is clearly impossible; Dagah is obviously a young man, and everyone who knew him from before he went into the Shrine of Resurrection is aged. Or dead. Except Purah, and he's pretty certain she's a special case. He would have to be over a century old to have known Link from before. Or perhaps it's that Dagah simply looks like someone he once knew. Is it possible to be reminded of someone you don't remember? Perhaps he really is imagining things.

Whatever the case, if Dagah is serious about traveling with him to free the four Divine Beasts – and it looks like he is – he'll have plenty of time to figure it out.

The morning is clear and bright, subtle petrichor still lingering on the tall grass, as they pack up their camp and set out. Link doesn't know the territory north of the East Post Ruins, so he follows Dagah's lead as they mount their horses (and very deliberately does not laugh at how outsize the Gerudo is for his steed, feet dangling below the animal's belly). Since the Riverside Stable isn't far, they decide to simply stop for directions to Zora's domain and continue on their way.

He clearly isn't the type to fill silences with idle chatter, which suits Link just fine. It also means he can use their time on the road to study him further, when he's confident Dagah isn't looking. He's very different from the Hylians and Sheikah he's met so far. It's not just the sheer size of him – he stands a good head and shoulders above Link – but also his sun-bronzed skin and thick, flaming red hair, currently drawn back into a ponytail that cascades partly over his shoulder. His eyes are almost a brighter gold than the topaz on his brow. Everything about him seems designed to radiate intensity.

Dagah glances over at him and Link hurriedly shifts his gaze to the scenery.

They haven't gone very far when something catches his eye. Small statues, half-hidden in the swaying tall grass. "Hold on," he tells Dagah, pulling Telma's reins to slow her and jumping from the saddle. The other man slows his horse with a quizzical expression. As Link draws closer he sees his instincts were right: two statue shrines stand at a drunken lean in the field, one of them with an apple in its bowl.

Definitely a Korok.

He roots around in his pack until he finds an apple of his own, then tosses it into the empty shrine. For a split second nothing happens, then –

"Yahaha! You found me!" The Korok appears in a shower of colorful sparks and deposits a small seed in his palm.

"What is that?"

Link whips around to look at Dagah so fast he almost pulls a muscle in his neck. The taller man is off his horse, hand on the hilt of his claymore, though he looks startled more than outright aggressive. He's staring right at the Korok. Link realizes he's basically frozen with one hand still outstretched to the tiny creature, so he straightens, pocketing the seed.

"You… can see it?"

"Of course I can see it," Dagah replies testily. He lowers his hand, though. "Wait." The Gerudo frowns. "... Are you saying that's unusual?"

Link nods slowly, fixing Dagah with a considering look. Hestu himself said nobody'd been able to see him in a century. A small voice in his head whispers: I was right. There is something special about his new companion, even if he can't tell exactly what it is.

How to explain this, though? 'I took a pair of maracas from some bokoblins and a magical tree most people can't see made my pack bigger' is… it's a little hard to believe. Then again, Dagah can see them.

"... They're called Koroks," he says at last as they remount. "Forest spirits."

"I see." Dagah's brow is furrowed. Then: "Why did you give it an apple?"

"Seeds."

Dagah looks supremely unimpressed with this answer, and Link rubs the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to explain things. "There's…" Goddess, this is tough. "It's going to sound crazy," he warns. He can feel the tips of his ears start to heat. The last thing he needs is to make his new companion think he's a loon. Dagah says nothing, but shoots him another flat look that clearly says: try me.

"There's a… big one." Link can already feel the words threatening to slip from him. He doesn't know if this is a problem he's always had, the way anger and worry close around his throat like a fist, or if it's new from the Shrine of Resurrection – either way, it's damned annoying. He takes a calming breath and tries again. "I did him a favor and offered to make my bag bigger. On the inside. In… exchange for the seeds."

"And that's why you can fit a greengrocer's worth of produce in there?" Dagah exclaims. Link chokes on a laugh, ducking his head against his sleeve as his shoulders shake. The man's immediate acceptance caught him completely by surprise. Something different.

"I have two more outfits in there as well," he offers as they set off again.


They make it to the Riverside Stable by late morning, and the sky today holds no promise of rain. Link hopes they'll be able to make up for lost time – not that he thinks a matter of hours will make a difference, but he's feeling an increasing need to do something, to get started already. They're about to head up to the counter to ask for directions when Link spots a familiar face: it's Pikango. The traveling painter's set his easel up in the shadow of the stable, and is looking at the scenery with an air of intense concentration.

Link reaches for Dagah, tapping him on the upper arm before jogging over to the Sheikah painter.

"Ah, you're the guy who found the fairy fountain!" the painter exclaims as he spots Link approaching. "I came down the Sahasra Slope to paint the beautiful scenery at this stable. As you can see, it's well worth the trip!" He gestures at the river, flowing wide and slow in the bright sunlight. "Funny running into you here – are you traveling too?"

Link nods. "Just stopping for directions."

"Well, I've traveled all over," Pikango says, paintbrush leaving a brilliant streak of blue across his canvas, "so I'm happy to tell you about new places. If you're looking for a particular spot, chances are I've been there."

Now that he mentions it – he recalls their conversation in Kakariko, Pikango's offer of help. At the time he hadn't thought much of it, but his album has a lot of images, and he hasn't been able to identify any of them yet.

"Do you… recognize anything?" He turns Slate towards the elderly painter, and waits with bated breath as Pikango studies the photos, muttering under his breath about the marvels of captured images.

"Ah! This one, here!" Pikango points at one of the first pictures. "This view… that looks a lot like the garrison by Lake Kolomo, out west of here. Judging by that and the Dueling Peaks in the background, I'd say this was taken from somewhere on the western shore."

Link pockets the slate, heart suddenly thudding wildly, and thanks Pikango with all the sincerity he can muster. He recognized a spot. I know where it is now. The album seems suddenly real in a way it hadn't before, now that one of the pictures has a tangible location attached to it.

He looks over his shoulder, expecting to see Dagah behind him, only to realize the other man hasn't accompanied him over to where Pikango is; instead, he's speaking to a portly Hylian over by the cooking pot. Link jogs over to him just as Dagah leaves the conversation.

"Friend of yours?" the Gerudo asks, nodding his head at the painter. He tilts his head in a yes-and-no gesture. His thoughts are whirling far too fast, so he starts with the easy parts first.

"His name is Pikango – he's a traveler. I found a fairy fountain for him."

"A fairy fountain? I thought those were myths."

Link waves that away; they're definitely not, but that's not important right now. "He says he recognizes one of the pictures in my—"

All at once he realizes he hasn't even explained what the Sheikah Slate is to his new companion. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and he shows Dagah the Slate, the runes, the album. Then he explains, as best he can, how it came to be in his possession, how it's all connected to the Princess. Dagah listens intently without interrupting; he expects pity or shock when he explains that he nearly died a century ago in a battle he can't even remember and got put in the Shrine of Resurrection – but apart from a brief narrowing of his eyes Dagah's expression never deviates from gravely attentive. When Link finishes, he asks to inspect the Slate. Link hesitates for only a moment before handing it over.

"A Sheikah Slate. How curious." Dagah turns it over in his hands, thumbs through the functions. Link wouldn't ordinarily trust another person with the Slate, but in this too the Gerudo is somehow different. He's oddly certain Dagah won't damage it – or activate the bomb rune by accident. "And so?" the other man asks. "Do you wish to search for the location?"

Link looks out to the west, though the view is blocked by rolling hills. Impa did advise him to seek out the locations in the photo album… but they've already lost half a day to the thunderstorm. Can he really justify losing more time just to search for a place that might or might not help him regain his memories?

"It's… not necessary."

"The answer to a question I did not ask." The Gerudo fixes him with a direct stare. "Do you want to go and find it?"

Does he? The thought of being close to one of the spots from his album – Princess Zelda's album – makes his stomach do funny flops, caught between excitement and apprehension. He bites his lip.

… What if he finds the spot and nothing happens?

There's a sigh. "I passed by Lake Kolomo on my way east, you know," he hears Dagah say beside him. "It's not far; we could make it there and back by sundown."

That settles it for Link. He turns back to his companion and nods.


This is stupid, Ganon tells himself for the umpteenth time as they set out from the Stable. Helping the hero try to restore his missing memories is just about the most dangerous thing he could possibly do. What if finding this location makes him remember something of his past lives? What if it makes him remember everything?

The Goddesses might as well strike him down here and now, because his sense of self-preservation has clearly been left inside the Malice.

He's going to get himself killed, and all because he actually – for the briefest of moments – felt sorry for the Hero. His own memories are an increasingly sparse patchwork as time goes on, but at least he has them. For all the suffering in his past, he'd never willingly let go of it; not if it meant giving up his memories of the sands and the sun and the scent of safflina on the dawn wind. Not if it meant giving up his sisters, his mothers. He has little doubt the Hero has similar people in his own past, somewhere. People he would grieve, if only he could remember them.

You're a damn sentimental fool, he tells himself.

A few hours later, they crest a hill to see Lake Kolomo laid out in front of them like a bolt of blue silk. The entire western shore is populated with slender, white-trunked birch trees, so when they reach it they dismount and proceed on foot, checking the view of the lake against the one in the image every few meters. He's glancing out over the water when Link stops so suddenly Ganon walks right into his back; the Hylian takes a step forward for balance, but otherwise doesn't react, his shoulders a tense line in the dappled afternoon sun.

Ah. They've found it, then.

Link walks forward towards the treeline as if in a trance and Ganon lets him, taking a discreet step back. This is it. He hasn't tried warping since that first day in the field, but he calculates he can likely get far enough away that the Hero won't be able to follow him, if it comes to that.

He hopes it doesn't.

For what seems like an unbearably long time, Link stands motionless as Ganon waits to see the outcome. They're evenly matched physically, he thinks, if warping fails and a fight does break out; and he has some magic in reserve, but he can't fight to kill, and the Hero will have no such compunctions if he –

Link sighs and slides the Slate home on his belt. Then he walks off as though he's forgotten Ganon is there entirely. After a moment, Ganon follows him.

"... Well?" he prompts, once they're almost back to their horses and the Hero still hasn't said anything. Perhaps none of his memories came back?

Link glances over at him, and the look in his eyes puts paid to that idea.

They return to the Riverside Stable in silence as the sun sinks low behind them; Ganon knows better than to pry after seeing the expression on his face. Clearly, whatever memory he's managed to recover isn't a particularly happy one.

"I don't," Link says abruptly as the stable comes into view again, then stops, jaw clenched. Ganon halts his horse and looks at him patiently. Link huffs in exasperation – at his memory, or at himself, he's not sure. A minute passes by, the only sound the chirp of crickets and the distant murmur of the river.

"I don't think she liked me very much," he says at last, spurring his horse into motion again.

I doubt that, Ganon thinks, but does not say. The Hero and the Princess' entire existence is interwoven; two halves of a whole, standing against the darkness. He can hardly imagine a world where the Princess and the chosen Hero didn't at least tolerate each other. He doubts the Goddesses would abide it.

Then again, if they could abide a world where the Hero was slain by his hand, who's to say?

He decides to give Link space for the rest of the evening; they eat their dinner in silence, and he stays sitting at one of the small terrace tables, under the stars, long after the boy turns in. Finally alone, he turns the day's events over in his mind. It certainly could have gone worse, he has to admit. His moment of absolute and complete idiocy didn't end with four feet of steel shoved through his chest, which is always a positive outcome in his book. It could have gone a lot better too, though. Fitting, he supposes, that his attempt to be helpful has instead worsened things. He should learn to mind his own damn business where the Hero is concerned.

When he wakes up the next day, the sun is already past the horizon, and Link is gone.


Next chapter... huh. My notes are all smudged, I can't read suddenly, I don't know.