After that discussion, which Mipha would rather soon forget, she and Revali begin to spend more time in each other's orbit. At formal events and strategy meetings, they slowly pull towards each other, moving in tandem like the moon and the tides. They stand shoulder to shoulder, look to each other when it's their cue to laugh, nudge and elbow each other playfully and not-so-playfully. Revali snipes at Link and Mipha scolds him immediately; the others stare at her like she's grown a second head the first time she does it, the Zora princess usually not being one to raise her voice, but they learn not to question it as they come to realise that Mipha is the only one that can put a swift end to his once-endless rambling.
Their bond is one formed out of necessity: their situation is bleak, Zelda's not getting any further with awakening her power, and it looks like for the foreseeable future their life will consist of training and travelling and fighting and sleepless nights anxiously spent waiting for the sky to crack and chaos to rain down upon them. Mipha knows, deep down, they have nothing in common except the same predicament and a desire to protect and save their people - qualities necessary and admirable in champions - but hardly tangible idiosyncrasies when huddled around a campfire on the first night of an eight day long trip into the Hebra mountains.
Still, it is nice to have company while waiting for the end of the world. Mipha feels terrible for it, but she finds the thought of Revali, overly confident and boisterous Revali, going through the same inner turmoil that she is strangely comforting. Daruk and Urbosa are unnervingly secure, unbreakable; Mipha is not a pessimist, per se, but for once she wants someone to affirm that she is right to fear the worst, that there is a very real chance she may never see her father and brother again. She is eighty years old, old enough to have seen firsthand that soldiers do not always make it home from war. Now it is her turn to gamble her life. She prays that she will be one of the lucky ones, for Sidon's sake, if nothing else.
The chill coming off the mountains feels stronger tonight. Mipha moves to huddle closer to the fire, but it's not much use without the appropriate clothing. The air gets cold in Lanayru, especially at night, but it lacks the merciless bite found in the winds of Hebra. Revali had warned her when they'd been dispatched on their mission to beat back the hordes of monsters closing in on the Rito settlement, but she hadn't listened. Her lack of experience with terrains outside of her homeland has made her complacent, and now she is kicking herself for it.
"You look cold, princess," calls Revali, a sway in his step as he makes his way over to her, only a hint of smug satisfaction in his voice.
"I'm quite alright, thank you," she replies, trying and failing miserably to stop her body from visibly shaking as he perches on the log next to her. He looks quite content, of course, but he ruffles his wings in an exaggerated shiver in what she supposes could be either a sympathetic or mocking gesture. It is often impossible to tell with him.
"It's a curious thing," he says. "You featherless creatures are all just that - featherless - and yet you all deal with the extreme temperatures of our region differently. For example, Daruk and Urbosa appear to be getting by just fine in those little rags they call clothes, whereas you look like the frozen salmon I had for breakfast this morning."
"Then I suppose they must have thicker skin than I," Mipha says, hoping the mightiest glare she can muster will make up for the wretched quiver in her voice.
Revali smirks, unaffected by the animosity, looking at her in a way that could almost be considered fond. She puts it down to the warmth of the firelight reflecting in his eyes, the thought that he could actually be finding petty amusement in her suffering right now almost too irritating to bear.
He breaks their short staring contest to turn and retrieve a small patch of cloth from his pack, then takes his bow from his back and sets to polishing it. It's a hefty thing, carved lovingly from native cedar, thick and solid and probably almost as tall as she is. Mipha has often marveled privately at its might, and the ease with which Revali wields it. She has seen how he twirls it above his head like it weighs no more than a simple twig, and imagines fleetingly how he could probably do the same with her, if he wanted to.
"I don't know if you're aware of this, but there is actually a tailor in Rito Village who makes clothes specifically designed for outsiders in these sorts of conditions," Revali says conversationally, digging into a crevice of the bow with the cloth. Mipha rolls her eyes, pulling her arms tighter across her torso. She can't possibly imagine where this is going. "Perhaps the Calamity has infiltrated my memory, but for some reason I seem to remember advising you to pick up some warm clothes before we left. Strange, isn't it?"
She sighs. "I went to the shop, but they had nothing that would fit me, and I didn't want to inconvenience them by having them make something for me on such short notice."
"Ah, yes, because it's so much more convenient having you sat here shivering all night like a sleep deprived jellyfish."
Mipha is disappointed to find that she has no energy to do anything but tut at him, despite being fully aware by now that expressing disapproval has absolutely no effect on his behaviour whatsoever. Revali looks back at her with derision for a few seconds, before setting down the bow and cloth. He has almost undone all the ties on the thick doublet he's wearing before it hits her what he's doing.
"Oh, Revali, no," she pleads genuinely, but he's already shrugging it off and pulling the scarf from around his neck.
"Take them," he commands. "You need them far more than I do."
"But they're yours - "
"Mipha," he says, voice dropping dangerously low. She hesitates for a moment more, before reaching to take the clothing with grateful fingers. If there is one thing she has learnt from spending so much time with Revali, it is that resisting such an offer will only result in a back and forth that will last until the Calamity has been and left.
The doublet is unsurprisingly far too big for her, but it hardly matters when the rich velvet feels so good against her skin and the thick feather padding envelopes her like a luxuriously soft and heavy blanket. She loops the scarf around her neck, making sure to be extra careful with the delicate fabric, very much aware of its status as one of Revali's most treasured possessions. It smells faintly of the pine tar he uses to preen with - earthy, dark, but oddly pleasant. Mipha pulls the doublet tighter around her body, and gently twists her hands into the scarf, and when she looks up he is smiling at her, and the flames are flickering between them, and his smile is genuine and warm.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Link returns from his hunt, panting, blood smeared on his cheek and hands, all but collapsing as soon as he reaches camp. In front of them is the body of one of the biggest bucks Mipha has ever seen. Revali makes a noise that could be interpreted as approval. "Didn't go down without a fight, huh?"
Link looks at him and grunts, still trying to catch his breath.
Daruk and Urbosa abandon their playful sparring match to collect more logs for the fire. Link eyes them as they leave, then turns back to Revali and Mipha. "Why do I have to do all the hard work while you sit here playing house?"
"Because you're The Knight Who Seals The Darkness, of course," Revali says in the sing-song way everyone knows drives Link mad. "Is 'hard work' not in the job description?"
"Is 'asshole' in the Rito warrior job description?"
"Daruk did offer to go with you," Mipha interjects quickly, although she is afraid the conversation was doomed as soon as it began.
Link shoots her a tight smile. "Daruk makes too much noise."
"Haven't you heard, Mipha?" says Revali. "None of us can match up to his prowess! We're simply not good enough for him."
Link pulls his dagger from its sheath with a considerate amount of force. Revali looks like he wants to say more, but shuts his beak for the time being. After a beat, the knight sets to work skinning the carcass, humming a little louder than what can be considered natural.
Mipha hates this. Normally she would prefer to stay out of their squabbles, but she and Revali were sharing such a pleasant moment before that she finds herself angry that such a petty conflict has squeezed the quiet joy from the evening like an unrelenting snake.
"Thank you for the food, Link," she says quietly, because it's all she can find within herself to say. "I'm sure Revali appreciates it too, even if he may not act like it."
Revali glowers at her, clearly disapproving of her speaking for him, but keeps quiet. Link doesn't look up, concentrating intensely on peeling the deer's hide from its backbone in one piece. Once finished, he rinses his hands with a water skin and climbs to his feet. "I'll be back soon," he mutters, stalking away into the line of trees.
"The Knight Who Digs The Latrines," says Revali, and Mipha lets out a groan that can probably be heard all the way back in Zora's Domain.
Mipha has never been so grateful to have Daruk and Urbosa as a buffer, their return serving to considerably lighten the mood at the camp. With the fire roaring and venison skewers and mulled cider passed around, she would almost be able to forget Revali and Link's earlier antagonism of each other, if not for the residual tension that quietly simmers like oil on hot coals. She can't tell if Daruk and Urbosa haven't noticed the awkwardness, or if they have and are purposefully trying to be as perky as possible. Either way, she's glad when Daruk enthusiastically compliments Link's hunting and cooking skills, clapping him on the back so hard the knight almost chokes on his mouthful. They break out into easy laughter, and Mipha's heart sings.
Later, when their skewers have been picked bare and their mugs are empty, they lounge in front of the dying fire with the apathetic drowsiness of those with full stomachs and nothing to lose. Urbosa lies next to Mipha, propped up on one elbow. The princess is gently carding her claws through Urbosa's hair, marveling at how the fibers feel like silk beneath her fingertips. The Gerudo chief is usually not too fond of being touched, but she makes an exception for Mipha when she realises how utterly fascinated the Zora is by the whole concept.
Mipha traces her claws over Urbosa's crown, and the woman shivers underneath her touch. She supposes it must feel quite pleasant; a shame she cannot experience it herself. The thought of testing whether it would have the same effect on Revali's feathers enters her mind, but she hurries to shake it away. "I imagine it must be rather hard to care for," she murmurs to Urbosa.
"Oh, it's an absolute nightmare," Urbosa says, her voice a soft drawl. "But it looks good and helps keeps me warm on those cold desert nights, so I can't complain too much."
"I hadn't considered how hair might provide a similar function to feathers," Mipha replies before she can stop herself.
Urbosa pulls herself up, and Mipha lets her hands fall into her lap. The chief looks amused. "I do believe that is the sole function of feathers, although with the amount of preening Revali does he ought to look good, too. In fact I often wonder why the Rito bother wearing clothes at all." Mipha's face goes scarlet, and Urbosa continues: "I suppose that's why you're wearing his scarf and doublet?"
"I was cold, and he insisted," mutters Mipha.
Urbosa appraises her carefully, and Mipha feels like she's being laid out for dissection.
"I knew there was a heart of gold underneath that hideous attitude," Urbosa says finally, and Mipha finds she can neither confirm nor deny.
It's far past the time they were supposed to retire for the night, but going over plans to ambush a rabid horde of monsters in the morning has them jittery and sleepless, the soothing buzz of the evening's meal and drinking worn off, replaced by the cold sweats of nervous anticipation. Mipha is back to shivering, despite still wearing the doublet and scarf.
"Let's sing a song," says Urbosa.
Revali and Link groan simultaneously. Daruk, however, seems to perk up at the idea. "Oh, come on, guys. What's a song we all know?"
"The Fishwife of Lurelin?" Revali suggests, sounding like he's trying to hide a snicker.
"Aren't all wives in Lurelin technically fishwives?" ponders Daruk, stroking his chin. Revali squints at him from where he lies upside down in his hammock.
"Not all, actually," Link supplies. "There are fishhusbands, too."
"How can you use such offensive language in front of Princess Mipha?" Urbosa scolds, and Mipha blinks at her in confusion before realising that there is probably no such thing as a fishwife, or indeed fish at all in the desert.
"If you don't want offensive language, I'd steer clear of Fishwife," says Link.
"Must you always ruin everything?" hisses Revali, and Link shrugs at him.
"How about Hyrule, Have Mercy?" Mipha pipes up. "We must all know that one."
"Because that's not depressing at all," Revali deadpans.
"But you do know it."
"Does everyone know it?" Urbosa asks. The murmur she receives in reply in unenthusiastic, but affirmative. The hymn is probably the only one sung all across Hyrule, dating back thousands of years, to before when the champions of old piloted the divine beasts for the first time. It is so deeply ingrained in cultural memory it would be difficult for one not to know the words.
"Then it's settled," declares Urbosa. "I'll go first, since it was my idea, and we'll each sing our verses as we go around the circle. We can use my shield as a drum; it's stronger than dragonbone, you won't damage it. Ready?"
She raps out a crude beat upon the shield with her knuckles, and begins to sing. It's surprisingly nasal, but strong, and not unpleasant.
I am a Gerudo warrior
Noble as my blade
Beneath my beauty lies
The venom of a snake
The desert has given me
All the blessings of a mother
I know that she will never
Be ruled by another
Hyrule, have mercy on me
She passes the shield to Daruk. His voice is like thunder rolling beneath the clouds.
I am a Goron hero
Sturdy as the mountain
My voice calls out
Through all the racket and the din
My skin cracks
And out pours lava as my blood
I fight my way
Through all the sorrow and the mud
Hyrule, have mercy on me
Link's voice is softer and more musical than the other two, and when he takes the shield he coaxes a steady, tinkling rhythm out of it, like rain falling upon a timber roof.
I am a Hylian soldier
My heart beats for my land
My sword was made to be wielded
Only by my hand
My ears were made to hear
The voice of the Goddess
She tells me to dispatch
The wicked and the godless
Hyrule, have mercy on me
Revali still does not look convinced, but takes the shield from Link. After a split second's consideration, he hands his bow to Mipha, and she understands what he wants her to do.
I am a Rito archer
The sky calls my name
Every morning I wake
To the heat of the flame
That burns inside my soul
So disciplined
Every night I fall asleep
To the screaming of the wind
Hyrule, have mercy on me
Finally it is Mipha's turn, but she is stunned. She did not expect Revali to sound like that. Why would anyone keep something so beautiful hidden for so long? It makes no sense.
She knows her own voice cannot compare, but it is sweet and lilting enough that she can get away with it. She hands her trident to Revali, and one corner of his mouth turns up slowly as she begins to sing.
I am a Zora healer
My grace is given unto you
My domain is vast
From rivers to seas of blue
The battle will end
And I shall look upon the wounded
And I shall feel my heart harden
With every life concluded
Hyrule, have mercy on me
The champions exchange few words after the song is finished. The mood is pensive. The air is thick with things unsaid.
Eventually, the fire dies and Mipha watches as one by one they fall asleep. First Link, then Daruk, then Urbosa, and then it is only her and Revali left awake. He lies still in his hammock, save for the steady rise and fall of his chest. His head is turned away from her, but even cloaked in darkness she can see the tension in his shoulders.
"Are you scared?" she whispers.
He doesn't reply for so long she thinks he may have actually fallen asleep after all. She is on the edge of slumber herself when he finally murmurs, "Of course I'm scared, Mipha."
The smoldering embers of the fire drift up into the air, the only thing tethering her to this reality. Night turns to early morning before she can slip under again, hands still clutching the Great Eagle Bow.