Chapter 47: Never Alone

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As the days passed, and Link found himself gaining the strength to stay conscious for longer periods of time, he was surprised to find that not only Zelda was determined to keep him company. The Champions visited frequently, either individually or all at once (with the exception of Mipha, who had reportedly left Castle Town with her father and their guards shortly after his punishment a week prior). They made no effort to pry from him details about what had happened and instead discussed more trivial matters, goings-on in the outside world as the people of Hyrule weathered the winter season.

"Thought I'd hate all the cold and snow," Daruk admitted with a shudder. "Turns out, stuff's actually kinda fun to play around in. Maybe I should come down here to visit more often in the winter, eh, little guy?"

Urbosa, when she visited, was solemn at first. Although she didn't mention the night of the Yiga's attack, she didn't hesitate to discuss his punishment. "I can't help but feel responsible for this in some way," she admitted, taking a seat at his bedside and resting a gentle hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid the whiplashes. "I encouraged you, after all. Encouraged you to keep trying with her. And… now…" She shook her head sadly. "I must apologize, Link. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Link protested quietly, feeling cold at the mere thought of what would have happened if he had quashed his feelings for Zelda. "Without her, I… I don't know where I'd be." His eyes watered, and he focused on keeping his breathing even, fighting to stay calm.

But from then on, Urbosa was just as teasing and almost motherly as she had been in Gerudo desert, asking about how things were going between him and his charge, fussing at how long his hair had gotten, reiterating Ronelda's orders for him to stay in bed, no matter how difficult it was for him.

Link was most surprised by Revali's visit, only a week after his battle with Janin.

"Aha, so this is the infirmary," the proud Rito warrior drawled, strutting through the doors and studying the hall with a critical eye. He stalled for several minutes, pretending to examine the cleanliness of the beds, the layer of dust beneath them… anything but Link in his corner by the window.

Only after he had finished investigating almost every bedpost for scratches did he take an uncertain step in Link's direction, and then another and another, until he was standing at his bedside.

"Well," Revali coughed, clearing his throat. "Well, then… I suppose it's comfortable enough in here, isn't it? I mean, it couldn't compare to Rito down mattresses, of course, but… it's not that bad."

Link shrugged, not sure what else to say. He watched Revali expectantly, waiting for him to say whatever it was that so clearly had him preoccupied.

Revali squinted at him. "I believe at one of our first meetings I called you barbaric," he said, abruptly changing the subject. "And I also recall making some sort of remark about your intelligence. It was rather… impolite of me. I would hope that you might forgive me those words, as I have been forced to eat them after the events of the past week. It's clear to me now that you are… almost as much an artisan with the arming sword as I am with the longbow. And that you must be quite clever indeed, to have won the battle with that Captain Janin considering your… current state."

He paused, regarding Link with a haughty green eye, holding his beak high. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I misjudged you, and I'm sorry," he blurted all at once, wincing as if the words actually pained him. He gave himself a slight shake. "Regardless, once you're feeling up to it I'd still like to have a friendly little competition between us. I would win, of course, but it would be interesting to see just how close a win it would be."

He quickly turned on his heel and marched towards the doors, but just as he pulled them open he turned to cast a reluctant grin over his shoulder. "Keep your blade sharp, Link."

The General also dropped by on occasion, at least once a day, generally in the evening. Link almost didn't recognize him the first time he entered the infirmary, as he wore a simple blue tunic instead of his usual armor. Most noticeably, he wasn't wearing his helmet. Link discovered that he hadn't ever realized the General had hair at all until now, since he'd never before seen the man without a helmet. The General's hair was darker than his skin - almost black - and pulled back in a short ponytail.

"You've earned your right to stay on as a Royal Guard, of course," General Hawkwood noted one night, his scarred brow furrowed as he gripped his chin in contemplation. "But I've been trying to think of some way to get you transferred to my command, for your own safety if nothing else. The Captain has been in a… a rough spot these past few days. Dangerous man at the best of times, of course, but still willing to laugh and joke around. Not anymore. Evidently he's a poor loser."

Link's mouth went dry, imagining it. He hadn't considered how that aspect of his life would change - how it would feel, taking orders from his parents' killer, from a man who had beaten and betrayed him. "Have you come up with anything, sir?"

Hawkwood sighed heavily. "No, not yet. Janin is the Captain of the Royal Guard; as such, all knights of the Royal Guard answer to him, including you. I have no authority over him or you." He snorted. "Though I do have authority over just about everything else concerning Hyrule's military and defense. It's just not enough in this case, I'm afraid."

The days drifted past, and with each morning sun that rose Link could see that the snow in the courtyard below receded further and further. Clouds floated lazily past his window, some of them thin and wispy, others bulky and foreboding, leaving flurries of fresh snowflakes in their wake. Frost left a daily piece of artwork on the glass, delicate fractals that melted away as the hours dragged on. If not for his visitors - Link nearly thought of them as friends - he doubted that he would have lasted more than a week without going utterly mad.

One morning dawned particularly bleak, with the sky a blank stretch of dull gray, and the air bitterly cold, seeping in through the walls and window to curl around Link's body, sending goosebumps prickling over his skin. Ronelda had left for Castle Town much earlier, as she usually did, to tend to villagers unable to leave their homes that had taken sick from the cruel winter air, leaving him alone in the empty hall.

Prompted by the cold, he climbed out of bed, shuddering as his bare feet met the floor devoid of all warmth. He had been permitted to change from the typical infirmary nightshirt into his own undershirt and trousers once Ronelda finally agreed to let him get up and walk around as long as he didn't leave, which went a long way towards making him feel more comfortable; it was painfully awkward to speak with Zelda wearing nothing but a long shirt.

He yawned widely and shuffled over to the large fireplace set into the opposite wall, empty now, but with several pieces of kindling and firewood stacked in the alcove on one side. Link gathered several in his arm, revelling in the stretching of his muscles that followed. Can't stand being cooped up like this for much longer, he thought, longingly envisioning the courtyard scene of children running around in the snow and building up a large pile for shield-sledding. It'll be great to get outdoors again.

Carefully he crossed pieces of kindling over each other to form an open box and placed the larger firewood on top. There was a small pail resting on the brick hearth, filled with dried pine needles; Link took several handfuls and placed them around the edges of the firewood before snatching the flints safely stored in a tin box on the mantle and striking them together, sending sparks scattering across the tinder and gently blowing on the small flames that burst up, coaxing them stronger and brighter.

Once the flames had taken hold of the firewood and he was reasonably certain they wouldn't go out, he sat down with his feet crossed beneath him and held his hands out to the fire, basking for a moment in the heat.

A soft click caught his attention, and he looked up to the stack of firewood in time to see the secret panel behind it in the small alcove slide shut. Zelda stepped out from behind the wood, looking eagerly towards the bed beside the window and giving a slight start when she noticed Link already practically right beside her, sitting by the fire. He smiled at her, feeling a slight strain in his cheeks as he did so - his face had grown unaccustomed to smiling.

"You're out of bed!" she beamed, kneeling beside him. "I didn't - but - so you're doing better?"

Link shrugged carefully. "Ronelda lets me tend the fire. Gives me something to do, something to stay somewhat… active." His smile faded. Lifting firewood wasn't nearly enough, and his limbs felt stiff. Janin'll never hear me say it, but… I actually think I miss swinging a sword around.

"Good," Zelda nodded, pressing her lips together contemplatively. "Well, I… I know I usually come around later, less chance of being caught, but I couldn't - this couldn't wait." Her brow furrowed as she stared into the fire, flames reflecting off of her eyes, making her impossible to read. Link felt a prickle of worry crawl across his heart, and resisted the urge to take her hand resting on her knee.

"Is… is everything alright?" he asked quietly. This would be right around the time she finished her morning prayers, wouldn't it? His heart plummeted as a myriad of possible unhappy circumstances flocked to his mind, not the least of which was the idea of Rhoam giving her another scolding.

"Nothing's wrong," she assured him, breaking her gaze from the flames to meet his eyes. A small smile graced her lips, and she leaned closer. "The Goddesses… well, they… they spoke to me."

Link's lungs seized up, and he couldn't breathe for a moment as his pulse skyrocketed, pounding a dent into his throat. "You… they… what?" he croaked, staring at her in awe. "Did you - can you use your…?"

Zelda quickly shook her head, a trace of sadness clouding her gaze. "No, not that I can tell," she admitted. She drew in a deep breath, turning back to the fire. "I was… well, I was praying for you, actually. These past weeks, all of my prayers have been on your behalf." Her cheeks flushed, and she turned her head away from him, raising her shoulders self-consciously. "The day of your… your trial, or hearing, or whatever that was, you were already upset by the time I reached you. You didn't want to… well, we sort of just let the topic drop, but I… I don't know. It worried me. And then everything else happened on top of that… I just… I thought that if the Goddesses wouldn't listen to my prayers for myself, perhaps they would listen to my prayers for you. And… they did."

She paused, tilting her head, biting her lip. Link waited in painful anticipation, his heartbeat no less forceful. What could the Goddesses possibly have to say about me?

"They didn't exactly speak," Zelda murmured, as if sensing his thoughts. "But they… but I saw something - a vision - as clear as if I had been taken somewhere else entirely. It was Hyrule, but it… but at the same time it wasn't. The sky was clearer, the air fresher, the grass greener… and, Link, I saw Choice."

His heart froze. His breath stilled in his lungs and he stared at her with wide eyes suddenly prickling with tears. A sudden chill shot down his spine, but it wasn't one of dread or fear. He felt a strange swelling sensation within him, not quite happiness but much too pleasant to be grief. It was peace, peace stronger than any he had ever felt or dreamed possible.

"Choice?" he whispered at last, forcing her name from his trembling lips.

Zelda nodded, facing him once more, wiping at her damp cheeks with a sleeve. Her emerald eyes glittered with tears, but they were no more mournful than his. "She walked up to me and - and whinnied, you know, like she usually does when we come near, and then she looked past me, as if she was wondering where you were." She chuckled softly, dabbing again at her eyes. "And then I blinked and I was back in the cathedral as if nothing had happened, but the feelings were still there - the feeling that she was still there. It's like when you close your eyes, but you still know that the world exists around you, that there are people, all around… just because your eyes are closed and you can't see doesn't mean the world ceases to exist around you."

Link closed his eyes as she spoke, imagining it, and a lump of emotion swelled in his throat. When she fell silent, he could still feel that she was there, next to him, though she made no sound. And… more than that…

Tears squeezed past his eyelids. The peace engulfing his soul was the very same peace he felt after his training sessions, when he sought solace in Choice's stall, when she comforted him in her sweet equine way. But it felt so magnified because he had given up hope of ever feeling it again.

"She's not gone," Zelda whispered, voicing his thoughts, and he opened his eyes again. "The Sacred Realm… it's closer than I ever thought possible. She never… never truly left us. We're not… we're not alone."

Link studied her, receiving the distinct impression that she was no longer referring to Choice. I'm not the only one to have lost someone so dear to me.

This time he did not hesitate to take her hand in his.

\-==/\==-/

Link made the trip back up to his room down the hall from the Princess' quarters the following week, after Ronelda determined that the new skin stretching across his side was strong enough not to tear.

"Don't even think about touching a sword for at least another week," she warned as he headed for the doors. "Only the simplest and most basic of exercises as well. And stay inside as much as you can. Do you hear me, young man?"

Link managed a small smile. As stern and strict and cold as Ronelda pretended to be, it was clear to him now that, deep inside, she truly did care. About him, and about anyone else placed under her watch. "Yes, ma'am," he assured her, offering a mock salute. "And… thank you."

Ronelda shrugged. "Just don't want to see you back in here all bloodied up again, that's all. You take care of yourself, now."

Link nodded, still smiling, and let the doors fall shut behind him. He began the walk back to his room, his heart feeling lighter than he'd thought possible - weeks of rest, of watching the castle's youths playing in the snow outside, and spending time with Zelda and occasionally the other Champions as well, and often General Hawkwood, had done much to bring peace to his soul, and to begin the process of healing.

And of course, there was Zelda's vision. The knowledge that Choice was at peace, and still looking out for him, comforted him like a warm embrace, or a cozy fire after a day out in the cold. He began to believe, though it ached in his soul, that it would be possible to accept her death.

Because she's not really gone. Because this isn't the end, and I'll see her again.

When he reached his room, he hesitated before entering, his hand hovering over the door. There were bloodstains last time I was here.

Squaring his shoulders, he curled his fingers around the cold doorknob and twisted. But… it'll be nice to have my own space again. Right?

It was early in the morning, and the light streaming in from the small window opposite the door was frail and gray. Nonetheless it illuminated a floor scrubbed clean, a bed neatly made, and his Champion's tunic folded and clean on his nightstand. Link stepped inside slowly, his heart slowly warming with gratitude. No one's ever bothered to clean in here before, he thought, touched.

He took his tunic by the shoulders and shook out the folds, holding it up against the light.

Zelda made this, he recalled with a start, running a finger lightly over the white embroidered stylized image of the Master Sword. It must have taken hours… and she wasn't exactly fond of me back then, was she?

Without wasting another moment he pulled it on over his undershirt and crossed the room to his wardrobe, pulling out his belt and baldric and fastening them in place. Regardless of how she felt at the time, it'll be a treasure to me as long as I live.

He turned back towards the door, intending to head down to the training grounds - if not for a full training session, then at least to perform as many basic exercises as he had strength for, to start getting back into shape after spending so much time bedridden. A sliver of light from the ground caught his eye, and he looked down to see a small scrap of parchment lying on the floor, catching the feeble light from his window. There was writing on it - Link recognized Janin's square, tidy script.

"Once you've received this message, retrieve your sword from the Sanctum. You will be expected to return to your post the following day."

My sword? Link frowned, puzzled, scanning his room more thoroughly. It's not here. But where… He remembered faintly the sensation of the Master Sword's hilt slipping from his grasp shortly after his battle with Janin. But that was weeks ago!

He turned for the door, wracking his memories of the many months - over half a year ago now - following his removal of the Master Sword from its pedestal in the Lost Woods. Has anyone else ever had to hold it in that time?

That first time he'd woken up in the infirmary after eating poisoned fruitcake, his clothes had been removed and replaced with the usual long nightshirt. He'd been wearing the Master Sword on his back - they had to have held it.

He walked out into the hall, brow furrowed. And then again in Goron City the first time, when they crammed me in that bucket of lizard… stuff. And even just last week, when the guards came for me in prison! They took my clothes and the Master Sword and brought them up to my room.

So why couldn't they do anything like that this time?

He didn't encounter anyone else as he made his way up to the Sanctum - it was still early, so early that the light beyond the windows was a cool, dark blue only hinting at the coming dawn - but he could hear a low burble of voices coming from the massive doors leading inside. Seeing him, the guard at the door pulled it open, and he stepped slowly inside, keeping close to the wall so as to avoid as much attention as he could.

"...is once again asking that he be released early, if only to receive an audience with Your Grace," someone, a male, was saying, over the gentle murmuring of the small crowd of people trailing up the arched staircase to Rhoam's throne. "He's willing to go back at once, of course, but he is adamant in his claim that he has something of importance to discuss with you…"

A burst of realization sparked in his mind. It's like what Urbosa did every morning in Gerudo Desert - allowing her people to come to her with their concerns. I guess Rhoam does the same.

Either people don't like him half as much as they like her, or they don't like waking up early in the winter.

"He even suggested lengthening his sentence afterward to compensate, if you would require that," the current man addressing the King continued, a guard wearing the light, simple armor of the soldiers assigned to Castle Town Prison.

"Why couldn't he relay his message to you and be done with it?" Rhoam asked disgruntledly. "What could an embezzling tax collector have to say that could be so important?"

"He… he won't say, Sir," the guard admitted. "But in his defense, the embezzling was a one-time incident and he's sworn not to do it again…"

So someone's trying to get out of prison early, Link thought, standing straight and squaring his shoulders, trying to walk as casually as he could towards the Master Sword, lying with his baldric right where he'd left it beneath the thrones. He lifted it in both hands, surprised to find that, despite having gone untouched for so long in the shadows, it was pleasantly warm to the touch. Odd.

People had taken notice of him now; from their place leaning over the bannister they pointed and whispered, squinting at him with something that wasn't quite suspicion, and wasn't quite awe. Feeling his cheeks heating up, Link sheathed the Master Sword and hurried back for the front doors, and the guards let him back into the mercifully quiet hall without incident.

Making his way down to the training grounds, his mind wandered, drawn again to his confusion about the Master Sword's abandonment. Then at the Sages Temple… but that was a bit strange; they had the Master Sword lying on the ground attached to my baldric. All the other times, whoever had taken it put it up on a table or something - it is a sacred item, after all… Maybe the monks couldn't lift it? But it's a sword; it's not that heavy. And if the Goddesses would permit anyone to handle a sacred blade, it would be the people devoted to worship, wouldn't it? But they couldn't lift it – and why were others able to lift it?

It was glowing on the way to find Zelda, he thought, struggling to focus solely on his memories of what happened then during the journey through the storm, and not what happened after. And the sword spirit spoke to me… Perhaps that's it. Perhaps now that the spirit has… awakened… it won't let other people hold it.

He felt a strange chill creep down his spine, and felt again peculiar warmth emanating from the blade at his back. Strange.


Updated 7/8