Part Two: Altercation
Secretary Milagre considered pouring herself another cup of wildwine to stop from going mad before the night was over, but somehow she doubted that any more of the Gerudo liquor would calm her. The Elders of the Yiga - Grihan, Totin, and Barne - had spent the entire evening arguing when Chancellor Leilo would return. Elders though they were, Milagre determined from their spiraling circular arguments that age certainly did not correlate with wisdom. She found herself wondering once more how these men had reached such a high level in the Yiga Hierarchy to begin with. She sat with them around the head table, on a large stone dais at the head of the dining hall. The Yiga Hideout in Karusa Valley extended deeper into the desert stone that one might normally imagine; as much as Milagre wanted to slip away and feel the night air, the desert beyond was too far out of reach.
Her eyes drifted aimlessly from the head table. A mingling of fully-trained bladed Yiga, acolytes, and stewards sat below; the bladed ones in their traditional red soldier's garb, and the others in loose white training gear. She had never seen so many of them at once; Chancellor Leilo had recalled all the bladed Yiga to Karusa Valley for an emergency election of a new Master. There were several dozen bladed Yiga in all, and half as many stewards and acolytes, all as boastful and chaotic as each other. The bladed ones bragged and brawled - one claimed to have met the Hero near Hateno, and another tried to duel him for stealing his story - while the impressionable, still-in-training stewards and acolytes lapped up every story and tall tale. All of them were insatiably drunk, and each night was the same circus of wine and fighting. This is what Leilo brought upon us, before disappearing into the desert, Milagre lamented.
The slamming sound of Grihan's cup hitting the table drew her attention back to the squabbling Elders. "Surely Leilo will return by the end of the week!" he argued.
Chaplain Tieo, who was slumped over the table next to Milagre and passed out from too much to drink, stirred groggily at the noise. She regarded him with disdain. As Chaplain he was meant to lead the teachings of the Yiga's philosophy and history - the evils of the Shiekah and the Royal Family and so on - though since the Calamity his job was far from burdensome, and his philosophy seemed not to extend very far beyond the nearest cup of wine.
"No - not possible," Elder Totin shook his balding head. "Another storm lies on the horizon, bigger than the most recent one. He will not return until we send someone to drag him back here on a sled if need be."
"Don't be ridiculous, you old fool," Grihan spat.
"You're one to call me a fool, Grihan," Totin retorted.
Elder Barne was silent. He had insisted half an hour earlier that Leilo had already chosen the candidates to run for Master, and that his journey into the desert was merely a sabbatical in disguise. But he piped up, "Enough of this!"
When the other Elders ignored him Barne bellowed, "ENOUGH!"
The entire hall went silent, though Milagre detected giggling among a table of acolytes in the far end of the room. She rolled her eyes. "What does it matter?" she sighed.
"No - it should not matter to you, Secretary Milagre," Totin agreed. He shifted in his cushioned seat and extended a wrinkled hand to give her a gentle pat on the arm. "The election of the new Master is out of your hands."
"Be fair, Totin," Grihan cut in. "Secretary Milagre has been dedicated to the Yiga all her young life, and will stay that way no matter who is voted Master. Won't you, child?"
It took all her strength not to scowl at Grihan then - at all three of the elders, and Chaplain Tieo as well.
"But in your impartial view, am I correct, surely?" continued Totin, unphased.
Secretary Milagre ignored him. She wondered about Leilo, and Inglis, but worried more for the boy. He was barely more than a child, and had been sent out into the desert as though he were born to it. Milagre had begged Inglis not to go, to stay until he was strong enough for the task. The steward had not listened, intent on his task, and departed into the desert with the Chancellor and a sled full of supplies the next morning.
Totin and Grihan continued slinging arguments and insults at each other, undeterred by Barne's outburst. I know when Inglis will be back, she wanted to say. If he will be back. She felt as though her guts were swimming with poison, as though the room were spinning and her cup of wildwine was the only thing holding her in place. She shook from the nerves, torn with twin emotions of exasperation and anxiety.
At last - at last! - a voice cried out from the hall's entrance.
"Elders! Chaplain! Come quick!" It was a boy's voice; Milagre turned to look, her face steeled to hide her relief. Perhaps a little more tan than she had last seen him, and with longer hair, the steward Inglis stood at the entrance of the dining hall. He motioned urgently towards the door, his face awash with fear. Grihan, Totin, and Barne all leapt from their chairs, and Milagre followed as quickly as she could. Chaplain Tieo did not stir.
"Inglis?" Grihan boomed, incredulous.
"Elders Grihan," the young steward bowed quickly. "Totin, Barne. I have terrible news."
It was just as Milagre expected. Chancellor Leilo had been murdered by the deserter, the one she knew as the Chief. And somehow, as Inglis explained, he had managed to secure Leilo's murderer and bring him into the valley.
It was almost too much for the Elders. "You brought that deserter?" Grihan demanded. "Here!?"
Inglis retreated from the doorway into the shadowy hallway beyond. Milagre had to crane her neck to see past the group of men before her - but there he was. His hands bound in frayed rope and his mouth gagged with a dusty cloth, the Chief was tied to a sled that Milagre presumed had been dragged all the way into the hideout. His dark eyes leered at them angrily.
Inglis marched over to the Chief, and ripped the gag from his mouth.
"My, my," Grihan hummed. He stalked over to the Chief, his long burgundy Elders' robes trailing behind him. "Deserter, you live. So very rare to see your kind, even here."
The Chief met the Elder with an unwavering scowl. "Glad you missed me," he grimaced, his voice low. Despite being bound, the Chief looked relaxed, sedate even. Elder Grihan hovered over the deserter, and for a second seemed poised to strike him.
Inglish shifted his weight, clearly noting the tension and disgust of the Yiga Elders. "What shall with we do with him, Elder?" Inglis asked Grihan.
Milagre stepped forward. "Bring him into the hall - show the others what happens to deserters."
Grihan nodded in approval, and Inglis cut the deserter's bindings, dragging him by his still-tied hands. For the second time that evening, the dining hall fell silent. Those who remembered the deserter either smiled in predatory pleasure, or gaped in awe that he still lived. The rest could not stop their muttering, and whispers of curiosity.
Elder Grihan stepped up on the dais at the head of the room and raised his hands to quiet the whispering.
"This boy before us is a deserter-" he began. Hushed gasps filled the hall.
Grihan was not given a chance to continue. As if by magic, the deserter's ropes had disappeared, and he leapt away from his captors, disappearing into the dark hallway. The dining hall erupted with cacophonous shouts.
"Catch him!" shrieked Milagre, voice laced with outrage. "He is a traitor, and a thief!" A similar cry to action was echoed by Inglis and the other Elders. All at once, every steward, acolyte, and bladed Yiga jumped from their chairs; the bladed ones disappeared into ethereal red puffs of smoke, while the stewards and acolytes spilled into the hallway. The Yiga stalked their territory with single-minded purpose. Hatred for deserters ran thick, matched almost by their hatred of the Hero.
Minutes dragged on as the Yiga continued their fruitless search. Milagre had moved to stand by Inglis at the entrance of the hideout, away from the roving mass of Yiga intent on dispatching the traitor. Gloomy moonlight flooded the narrow valley, and shadows danced as the Yiga crawled over every rock and crevice searching for the red-headed deserter.
"At the signal," Milagre said to Inglis.
"Good to see you too, Mila," Inglis teased. She elbowed his side, yet for a moment entwined his hand with hers.
From the far end of the valley, Milagre heard the piercing sounds of a war-horn.
"That's it," Inglis murmured, and Milagre nodded in response, retreating silently into the hideout.
Behind her, echoing through the whole of Karusa Valley itself, came the whistling noises of arrows and the faint screams of her former clan mates. She paused in the hallway for a moment, allowing her eyes to well with tears and frantic hysteria to creep into her voice.
"Elders," she sobbed, stumbling once more into the now vacant dining hall. "T-the worst has happened!"
Grihan, Totin, and Barne were crowded around their table, with Chaplain Tieo still asleep where he lay. As she had expected, the Elders had not joined the search - they were too old, or too lazy, even with the deserter in their midst.
"Tell us, girl," Totin demanded. The screams grew louder, as no doubt more of the Yiga began to fall.
"The deserter led our people into an ambush. He had his men stationed atop the rock walls of the valley. Inglis and I - we managed to survive, but the deserter and his people...they are gone," she wrung her hands, and peered up at them through wide and terrified eyes, the picture of alarmed innocence.
The Elders were like statues: Totin sitting at the table with his hands clasped together as if in prayer; Grihan with his head in hand; and Barne leaning back with his burly arms crossed. For nearly a minute they did not move, and the room was silent except for Chaplain Tieo's ragged snores and the intermittent final cries of fallen Yiga. Grihan slammed a fist onto the table in impotent rage, and roared loud enough to startle the poor Chaplain awake.
Grihan's eyes were dark. "You said they are gone?" he snapped, his voice heavy with suppressed rage. Milagre nodded, and wiped away her tears. "Inglis is hurt, Elder. If I may return to him-"
"We will go with you. All of us" Grihan cut in, authoritatively. "We will see what he has done."
Barne helped Chaplain Tieo stand, and the Elders of the Yiga left as a group to the hideout entrance. Milagre lagged behind, and once they had passed the threshold, she reached for a spear that she had hidden by the archway.
In the small cove beyond, Inglis and the Chief stood side by side, an army of bandits at their back. Some wore blue neckerchiefs embroidered in white and red, and others - well others were the stewards and acolytes of the Yiga, still dressed in their now-bloodied white training gear. Milagre stood behind the Elders, and soundlessly leveled her spear at their backs.
Barne was the first to turn; when he saw her spear, he dodged sideways, attempting to disarm her with a clock to the shoulder. Milagre dropped to a crouch and skidded forward, evading his wild right hook. She spun on her heel and drove the point of the spear into his neck; his hands grasped the shaft, desperately and ineffectively trying to free himself before falling slack. The remaining Elders regarded her with horror, and turned slowly back towards the bandits.
"What have you done, Cinelgen?" Grihan said gravely, the Chief's strange name sounding almost sticky on his tongue. Cinelgen drew an arrow from his quiver, and nocked it to his painted Duplex Bow.
"I gave them a choice. Join me in Hyrule Castle, or die in this empty valley, serving their incompetent elders in their failed quest to defeat the Hero."
"Hyrule Castle!?" Totin spat. "You are a fool if you think you can conquer it. It is a ruin - full of Malice and corrup-"
Elder Totin was silenced by a thin arrow to the chest. Another one followed quickly behind the first, finding its mark in Chaplain Tieo. Both men stumbled backwards, and fell hard against the dirt. The Chaplain made no sound, but Elder Totin lay gasping, crying out for mercy.
The Chief gazed on impassively. "Not for much longer, I don't think," he told the dying men. Grihan raised an accusatory finger, trembling with disbelief and wrath.
"You gave them no choice. You are a murderer. Worse than that. Worse than any of us."
Milagre watched as Cinelgen silently drew another arrow, nocked it, and loosed it nonchalantly towards Elder Grihan. There was a wet squelch as it pierced the Elder's chest, and the third elder fell to his knees. Milagre lowered her spear. Totin was calling her name, begging her to help him. The Secretary ignored him, her grey eyes focusing on Inglis. When their eyes met, he gave her a slight smile.
With the last of his strength, Grihan raised his head towards the deserter. "The acolytes...the stewards...they'll never accept you as their Master," he rasped.
Cinelgen shook his head, victory setting his eyes alight. "Not their Master, Grihan. Their Chief."
Shivering from the chilly morning air, Princess Zelda knelt on the southern bank of the Zora River, at a narrow pass near Oren Bridge. She ran her hands through the water to cleanse them of mud, her fingers clammy and pruny. After over a month in Zora's Domain, mud and silt were no strangers; they were nearly as constant as the rushing of the river. And while Zelda knew that the this place was not truly her home, there was a comfort in being out in the wild and at work, with the sun at her back and the earth between her fingers.
She had spent the past few minutes haphazardly hammering a metal spike into the muddy bank; it had been woven through the corner of a large fishing net, and though she was not particularly strong she had managed to secure it. In the water beyond, Link was swimming across the river with the other corner of the net in hand. His task would have been easier going had they settled on the Bank of Wishes as their site, but when Zelda had suggested it, Link had sternly and suddenly refused. It wasn't worth pushing him, not today. Zelda leaned back to relax and gazed into the water, trying to imagine how the banks might have been shaped by the river over the past hundred years. Had they changed at all? Had anything? What little she had seen of Hyrule since she'd returned seemed characterised by an unchanging peace. A gust of morning air whipped through the ravine, and Zelda drew her arms around herself.
"I said, all done." Suddenly, Link was standing over her. He was still dripping wet from his swim through the river, and was squeezing water from his long, wheat-blond hair. Behind him, Zelda could see that he had managed to secure his end of the net to the opposing bank. It now spanned the river width - ready to harvest the octorok parts that would soon be floating past.
"Oh! Sorry," Zelda murmured, dazed by his abrupt appearance.
Link stopped wringing out his hair for a moment, and gave her a concerned look. "You alright?"
Zelda dismissed him with a wave of her hand and forced herself to stand. "I must have been daydreaming."
They walked together back towards Zora's Domain, where Link retrieved his crossbow and the two dozen additional crossbow bolts that Dento had crafted. Descending to the underbelly of Zora's Domain, the pair was met by the eager greetings of a crimson red Zora. He waved them over, bright fins gleaming in the shafts of morning sun that filtered through the immense, structured columns of the Domain.
"Sidon!" Zelda called out as they jogged over to the narrow outcropping of rock where he stood. "It's good to see you up!"
"It's good to be up!" the Prince pumped his fists, and Zelda felt for the first time that her excitement could match his own. She found herself marvelling at his resilience. Perhaps it was his age, or maybe it was in his Zora blood, but she'd never met an indomitable spirit such as his. After all, not a day earlier he'd been an inch from death.
Following their breakthrough in Vah Ruta, Link and Zelda risked complete dematerialisation to teleport together back to Ne'ez Yohma Shrine, fearful that Sidon did not have the hours it would take them to hike back to the Domain. Their bodies somehow still intact, they ran once more to the infirmary, and combined their power to destroy the Malice that clung to Sidon. Once the toxic substance dissipated, the Prince's yellow eyes had blinked open, and he had managed to flash them one of his trademark toothy grins before easing into a peaceful sleep. The relief between them was so thick they had to lean against each other for support, lest they both simply collapse onto the floor. Link had been tearful with happiness, and while Zelda was glad to have helped, no great joy came for her. They sat by Sidon's bed the entire night, with Link falling asleep on Zelda's shoulder as exhaustion took him. But for some reason, the Princess could not sleep.
Not wanting to push their luck with the King, Link and Zelda decided once morning came that they should depart as had been planned. But first, Link wanted to finish the job he'd started….
"Today is finally the day!" Sidon beamed as Link began to prep the crossbow. "I can't begin to tell you how excited I am."
"You don't need to," Link smiled up at their friend.
All had initially agreed that Zelda and Sidon were to aid Link by alerting him to the presence of octorocs out of his field of vision, with Zelda occasionally stepping in to blast any that Link could not reach. Settling on solid ground nearby, both Zelda and Sidon watched with quiet admiration as Link set about his task. His Hylian shield on his back, and his crossbow gripped tightly in his left hand, the knight resumed his dance with the octoroks. Lit by the glow emanating from the luminous architecture of Zora's Domain, a duo of the pests leapt out of the water, their beady yellow eyes furious and bright. Link quickly sighted and dispatched the first before it could even fire, before drawing his shield off his back to parry the boulder that the second octorok launched his way. The rock ricocheted off Link's shield, hurtling back towards the aquatic pest, and blasted the creature backwards into the river. Zelda and Sidon all but squealed. Link wasted no time; in a single fluid motion, he shouldered his shield, loaded another bolt, spun on his heel to fire at another octorok that had surfaced to his left. Then he turned, and braced for another onslaught from a trio of the creatures that had emerged behind him. Not a single time did he miss, and not a single time did his footing fail him. It was unnecessary for Zelda and Sidon to intervene, and instead they passed the hour cheering him on. The remains of the infestation of octoroks that had overtaken the underbelly were swiftly floating downstream towards the net Link and Zelda had set up earlier.
This is what he is, Zelda thought with a strange sense of dismay, when it was all done. The thought clouded her mind as they fetched the octoballoons from their collection net and handed them over to Marot to sell in her mart. What he was born to be.
Once the job was done, Link and Zelda were finally ready to depart. By now autumn had come for Hyrule, and the plains and valleys that surrounded the Domain had begun to shift in hue, with swatches of oranges, reds, and warm browns beginning to spread throughout the landscape. The mornings were becoming chilly, the days ever so slightly shorter, and the rainstorms heavier. The Zora had no warm clothes to lend her, so Zelda made it a mental priority to acquire a warm winter cloak as soon as possible. Finding her old travel clothes had been hard enough - somehow a set had been preserved in the stores of Hyrule Castle - but there was little to take from that ruined place, and little else she desired.
They bundled up what little they had: food for their journey, flint for their fires, and another two dozen crossbow bolts. As a reward for his service, Dento had specially looked over Link's crossbow, and made some final adjustments as he saw fit. On presenting it to them he declared that it was the first, and the finest, Hylian-made crossbow since the Calamity.
Sidon hailed them as they were crossing the Great Zora Bridge, his strong voice filling the air. He was a pillar of crimson colour against the swath of pale marble and blue tones in the Domain, and seeing him returned to full health was a small but constant source of delight. He approached from the direction of the Plaza, running and waving his long arms frantically.
"Hey! Not just yet, you two," he called out to them. The Zora prince opened his arms wide when he reached them, and declared, "I have one last gift to give. It may not be mine to give, but it is the least you deserve."
"What is it, Sidon?" Zelda asked, tilting her head to the side in curiosity. The Prince then went to one knee and bowed low, his face becoming solemn. Both Zelda and Link stepped backward instinctively, unaccustomed to any form of reverence from the Zora prince.
"I want you to know - no matter what my father thinks, or what the elders think - you have a friend in the Zora, and you have an ally in your new reign," the Prince looked up at them expectantly. Zelda did not know what to say, and of course, Link was silent.
"R-rise," Zelda said meekly. The words felt as though they were stuck in her throat. "I am not your Queen."
Sidon did as he was bid, though his face was still grave. "I hope a time comes when you are," he declared, raising a determined fist. Then he threw his arms wide again, his face perking up with a shining smile. "You two - you are my best friends. If there is nothing else I can give you but my eternal gratitude, then I hope you can accept!"
Beside her Link was smiling. Zelda sighed; somehow none of this felt right. The bowing, the talk of being Queen. "Of course we can," she finally said, doing her best to smile.
They said their final, slightly tearful goodbyes and the pair were off, leaving the glittering halls of the Zora far behind. Yet as they walked away from the Domain, Zelda felt suddenly and wholly afraid. The world around her was a rush of colour, and the sounds were murky and wet as though she were underwater.
She pulled out her Sheikah Slate to map out their journey, and pressed forward.
Their journey brought them down by the Zora River, around the Lanayru Wetlands to the border of Central Hyrule where the ever-present Hyrule Castle lumbered in the distance. It seemed to shift under its own weight, its image gently swaying in the breeze as though it were a living monolith - the fifth Divine Beast of Hyrule. Link caught Zelda staring out over the plains towards it often, usually when the sun was setting and the castle's lingering decay was cloaked by the low light. He wondered about the Malice that covered Castle Town, or the enormous pools that filled Hyrule Castle. Healing the Divine Beast Vah Ruta had nearly rendered the Princess unconscious - would she have enough strength to perform the feat again, or on a larger scale? Would he? Would the sword? Perhaps we can ask it, he thought wryly. Apparently it can talk.
Link had never heard the sword's voice - but a part of him knew he had felt it. An ancient song lived in that sword and gave rhythm to the dance he performed when he fought. If it had a soul, it was no longer distinguishable from his. In the week since he and Zelda had left Zora's Domain, Link seldom unstrapped the Master Sword from his back. In the evenings however he'd lay it down and make sure it was sheltered, so that both he and the sword could rest.
They were camped in Crenel Peak on a small outcrop backed by rolling rocky hills that overlooked Hylia River. Link had hunted a few herons, and had spent the past half hour plucking and preparing them for their supper. When he last checked, Zelda had been sitting by their fire, but when he looked up from his work she was gone. His pulse quickened, the herons forgotten as he scrambled to retrieve his sword where it rested propped against a nearby rock. He darted up over the outcropping and frantically scanned the rolling hills. Every sign of movement or flash of blue gave him a start, and he had to steel himself against the rising tide of panic.
Link found the princess at the river bank, standing knee deep in the rushing water and watching the fish go by. He had half a mind run down and yank her out of the current, but there was an unsettling stillness to her that gave him pause - as though she wasn't observing the water at all.
Quietly so as not to startle her, Link walked to the bank, and sat down by the river, his sword resting against his lap. "You okay?" he asked.
Zelda glanced towards him. "I'm just watching the water." Listlessly, the princess returned to her meditative state as though she were still alone.
It had been like this for almost a week now. She seemed so upbeat on the day they'd left the Domain, but by evenfall something changed. She began to talk less and less, her normal chatter receding to no more than the occasional comment on which road to follow, where to camp and so on. The Princess walked slowly, every footfall measured. Occasionally she would stop to gaze at a cluster of flowers or a frog hopping across their path, but not once did she reach for the Sheikah Slate to record anything they saw. Once or twice he had to nudge her along, managing to pull her briefly out of whatever melancholy had shadowed her. She would smile, apologise for her absent-mindedness, and they would move on.
But by now she was nearly silent, eyes opaque and impenetrable. Link had tried to talk to her, but his comments and questions were so clumsy that even just commenting on the weather felt strained. And no matter what he said, she nodded, and murmured a polite reply, and returned to her musings. How could he even begin to broach the subject of her mood? This was the first time she'd walked off alone, however; the first time he'd seen her doing something as dangerous as walking into the swift currents of Hylia River.
"I'm making supper," Link said, his voice warbling and awkward.
The Princess did not turn. She said nothing. The river swept on before them, and in the unseen distance a frog croaked in the grass.
"Zelda," Link said firmly.
The Princess seemed to startle, her entire body tensing. Finally, she sheepishly turned, and quietly stepped out of the water and back onto the bank.
"Thank you," she murmured as she walked past him, eyes downcast.
Once she'd disappeared over the crag, Link stood helplessly by the bank. Was she hurting? Was she mourning? Why didn't she say anything?
Casting one last glance at the shallows where Zelda had stood, Link turned and trekked back uphill. As he returned to their camp, realization dawned upon him. This must be how I make her feel. He was surprised at how much it bothered him.
The next day, they continued south along the river, heading towards Necluda. While she had not mentioned, Link assumed Zelda planned to make for Kakariko Village. It was a wonder they hadn't stopped there sooner. In a few miles they would come upon the Wetland Stables where they had boarded their horses. After that, the road would split, and they could ride up the shallow hills that lead to the north entrance of the old village. Despite their relative anonymity, it was probably better to travel through roads hidden by tall grasses and the passage of time.
After retrieving their horses at the stable, Link and Zelda came upon the fork in the trail. The path was split in two by a large and leafy oak. It was bordered on one side by the winding Hylia River, on the other by the low-lying Lanayru Wetlands and rising rocky hills leading towards Necluda. Zelda paused to check her Sheikah Slate, and then guided her mount past the fork, taking the path that would lead them further into Central Hyrule.
"Is this the right way?" Link questioned as he caught up to her, urging his horse into a light trot to keep up. Perhaps she had been distracted again.
The Princess' eyes were glued to her slate, reins loosely gathered in her hands. "Of course," she said nonchalantly.
They were fast heading up the wrong road. "Kakariko is to the east,"
Zelda was unphased. "I know."
Link bit his lip. "We're heading south."
"I know that." There was a bite to her voice, but she did not look up from the Slate.
"Are we...not going to Kakariko?"
The Princess lowered her Slate and held it close to her chest, her knuckles white. "N-no," she stammered.
Link didn't understand. "But - Impa, and -"
"In time," Zelda cut him off. Link felt his blood stir, the heat rising from the sword at his back.
"Hasn't she waited long enough?"
"I don't know - maybe," the Princess shrugged, her tone distant. Link was incredulous. He gazed at her stoic expression, trying to find some scrap of emotion in her that would help him understand - but her eyes were as still as ever. Glossy dark emeralds as smooth and as unyielding as stone.
Comprehension finally took hold, and he slowed his horse with a gentle tug on the reins. "You don't want to go there," he said, stunned. The emptiness, the slow and measured steps, her terse words and expressionless eyes; the Princess was avoiding something. Or perhaps avoiding everything.
"I...I don't know!" she hissed at him, pulling her horse to a stop. "Are you done interrogating me or can we just keep moving?"
"No - please," he begged. "Tell me what's going on. I can't keep...I don't understand."
Zelda regarded him blankly. "I'm fine, Link," she assured him, though the weakness in her voice hinted otherwise.
"Are you? I know it's a lie!" he blurted. The Princess seemed taken aback at his words. She glared at him, as though trying to process what she'd heard.
It felt wrong to challenge her like this, as he had been so often in the recent weeks. Maybe in a past life, when he was whole, Link might not have minded her antics. But on days when the cacophony of memories and emotion were difficult to parse, her voice and her strength had been an anchor. Without it, he wondered if anything he was seeing was real at all. So this...this silence of spirit was starting to drive him mad.
Zelda didn't say anything. Her eyes suddenly fixed on something behind him. There was a rustle in the grasses and a crunching on the rocks, and Link turned in his saddle to see a small Hylian woman with cropped red hair, dressed in traveller's garb and carrying a large pack. She stood on a large rocky outcrop behind them, at her belt she carried a tightly curved sickle. The sight of it sent a chill through him; his hands on the reins twitched instinctively, wanting to reach for his sword.
"Pardon me," the woman said sweetly. "But I couldn't help but overhear that you are planning on going to Kakariko Village."
"We're not-" Link cut in. He whirled his horse around to face the woman.
She did not seem to notice his glower. "I was wondering if you could show me the way." Her brown eyes were round and guileless, set in the pale and smooth face no older than twenty.
"Who are you?" Link said, his whole body tense. At his back was the reassuring warmth of the Master Sword. And in the depths of his soul he could hear it, and feel its rhythm, quiet at first but beginning to drum through his veins: the song of the hero.
The woman cocked her head to the side, and clasped her hands to her chest. "Oh, I'm just a traveller."
Link's raised his hand to his sword hilt, thumbing the familiar grooves. He looked towards Zelda. "Stay back," he cautioned. The Princess did not move.
"What's the matter, Hero?" the Hylian teased. "Afraid of strangers?"
"I know what you are," Link called out to her. He dismounted, and advanced towards the outcrop. The woman drew her sickle, and spun it menacingly, falling into a fighting stance.
"Yiga!" Zelda gasped behind him.
The woman burst out laughing. "Yiga!? What Yiga?" she said, slowly sweeping her sickle in an arc in front of her. "I see none here,"
"I do," Link challenged.
The woman's face twisted with another laugh. "There are no Yiga left, Hero. There's a new regime come for Hyrule."
Link drew his sword and brought his shield to bear. The Hylian woman stood her ground. "Come then," she taunted. "I've heard stories of your prowess. The Chief thinks you're a prodigy, but I'd see it for myself."
The Chief?
There was no time to contemplate the woman's words; she leapt from the outcrop, and the song began. He'd taken down dozens of Yiga; they were quick, and often bled him, but no matter how many he fought they seemed convinced one more attack would do it. But this woman - still in her disguise as a normal Hylian - was quicker and stronger than any other he'd faced. Back and forth on the rolling hill they moved, blade meeting blade, each switching between defense and offense as they tried to learn each other's rhythm and each other's song. The Yiga woman scrambled back on the outcrop, attempt to claim the higher ground, but Link swiftly followed. He aimed a swipe at the woman's side; she parried with the curve of her blade and twisted the sickle before he could react, sending his sword flying from his hand. It landed at the edge of the rocky outcrop, clanging against the stone. A broad follow-up slice from the sickle quickly followed. Link parried with his shield, leaping backwards, and backwards again, narrowly avoiding the woman's repeated strikes that made the air whistle around her weapon. He tried to focus, but the attacks were coming too quickly, and his right hand longed for a weapon. Fury, he thought. Fury and thunder. But the focused anger, and the corresponding power, would not come. Unexpectedly, in the blurs of colour before him he saw a sudden, golden light.
During the fight, Zelda must have dismounted and climbed up onto the other side of the outcrop. Breathless, Link tried to call out to her. The shock and fear at seeing her nearly made him lose his footing. Zelda closed in on the attacker, and unleashed a burst of magical energy into the her back. The woman stumbled forward but did not fall, and retaliated with a swift pommel strike across Zelda's face. The Princess was knocked off her feet, and tripped over the edge of the outcrop. With a wail she disappeared from sight. A fire lit in Link's gut. He lurched forward, shield up; and before the Hylian woman could turn he rammed his shield into her side, sending her tumbling across the rocks. Then without another thought for their attacker, Link leapt from the outcrop, soaring down towards the fork and landing hard against the dirt. Zelda lay in a heap near the tree that split the path. He fell at her side, the Hylian woman all but forgotten.
She was awake, praise Hylia, but dazed. On her forehead was a splintering cut that, no larger than Link's thumb. It was a fright less serious than it could have been. When she saw him she sprang up from the ground, and looked back towards the outcrop. Link followed her line of sight and saw the Hylian woman standing on the outcrop, her sickle in hand. Before he could react however, the Princess raised her hand and sent another surge of energy lancing towards the Hylian. This one must have been stronger - much stronger - for the woman was slammed back against the rocks, and fell limp to the ground.
"That should do it," Zelda growled, and then she winced from pain. Up on the outcrop, their attacker did not stir. It took a moment for Link to process what he had seen. She's dead, he realised, the thought enough to make his mouth bone-dry. Zelda killed her.
The cut didn't take long to heal. Zelda was silent the entire time, though when he was done she muttered a quiet thank you. Despite his work, the cut had not healed cleanly, and a small scar marred her skin.
Link ascended the outcrop once more, to check that the woman was indeed dead, collecting his sword along the way. Despite his protests, Zelda insisted on accompanying him. They patted the Hylian woman down, finding nothing of interest among her belongings. No notes, maps, or anything to indicate she had come from Karusa Valley. The sole possession marking her as Yiga was her silver sickle, the hilt wrapped with tight red leather. Link determined that the best thing to do was the leave the body, and keep moving. They retrieved their spooked horses, and walked back down to the fork.
"I'm sorry," Link said as he helped Zelda back up into her saddle.
"No…don't apologise." Zelda absently rubbed her brow where she had been struck. "That woman. She wasn't a normal one of their kind."
Link wrapped a hand around his right wrist, belatedly feeling the first blossoms of pain from a strain. Stiff and sore from the fight, he swung into his own saddle.
"Did you notice, around her neck?" Zelda asked. "A blue neckerchief. There was something embroidered on it. It didn't seem Hylian."
Link hadn't, if he was to be honest. The woman appeared entirely normal. Perhaps too normal, now that he thought about it.
"And red hair," Zelda mused. "Quite rare for Hylians."
The lingering effects from the fight, and or perhaps more from the way it had ended, gave way to the disbelief at hearing the Princess speak. It was more than she had said in days. Perhaps weeks.
And once she began, it seemed, her old habit of never stopping took over. "We need to keep an eye out. Note any others we see in similar garb…."
"We need to go to Kakariko," Link broached hesitantly. "I'm...I'm refusing to take you anywhere else."
Zelda glared. "You don't need to take me anywhere."
This again. "Then I'm refusing to go anywhere else."
Then you'll go alone, he half-expected her to say. But Zelda just sighed, and relented. "You're right. We need to get somewhere safe."
Perhaps this was a good time to ask. The questions he'd had on his tongue for the past week: how was she really, was she happy, were they happy? Those and more, along with the the questions he been mulling over since he'd saved her, and since he'd awoken. They rose to the surface one after the other like bugs dancing around a lamp, all fighting to reach the light. What did I do? What did I say? Exhaustion muddied his thoughts and he leaned into his saddle.
"I haven't been well," Zelda said quietly. She was clenching her horse's reins tightly, and the white mare seemed to fidget in response. "It feels like I've been...underwater."
"I know...I've always known," Link said. He carefully undid his woolen hood, and handed it across to her. It wasn't much, but it would ward off the winds.
Zelda gave him a long, guilty look. "We can talk," she sighed as she wrapped the hood around her. "The way we should have been. Once we get to Kakariko, Link. I promise."
It was raining by the time they reached Kakariko Village early the next day; Link had let Zelda keep his hood, and she kept it wrapped close around her face. Above them the sky was a morose grey, though the horizon was tinted with the first hints of dawn. Link kept his sword unsheathed for the remainder of their journey to the village, only relaxing when the wooden archways and traditional charms finally came into view. It had been a long, arduous night, and Zelda was unable to keep herself from yawning.
The village was still asleep, the only signs of activity being the low clucking of cuccoos and the ethereal hovering of sunset fireflies. Zelda was struck by the sight of the sloped roof homes clustered around a tall waterfall, and the smell of earth and rain that signified the first days of harvest. To see that the village had not changed greatly in one hundred years left a warmth that radiated from her core. The familiarity warmed her more than Link's hood, more than any coat or fire could. It melted away her anxiety and her reservations about coming to Kakariko. Flashes of a childhood lost to time came back to her: trips with her mother as a young child across Hyrule Field and into the mountains of Necluda, the Sheikah girl a few years older than herself, afternoons spent at the goddess pool. The evening banquets under the stars, and the rich aromatic scent of warm tea and vegetable stew. Any more and she felt she would faint; even the Gerudo could not distill a wine stronger than this. They stopped outside the large compound at western edge of the village. When they dismounted, Zelda reached out for Link and gripped his arm, overcome.
"I'm not ready," Zelda whispered.
"Take your time then," came Link's reassuring voice. Zelda breathed deep, bolstered her resolve, and let go of his arm. "We should rest first," Link advised. He Link paid for two soft beds while Zelda tethered the horses to a post outside. The village really was unchanged: the same guardian deities sat outside the main compound, the same goddess statue she had played around as a child, the same rows of plum trees and tilled earth.
"I'm going to let Impa and Paya know we're here," Link told her as she sat down on her bed to unlace her boots. "Rest as along as you like."
"P-paya?" Zelda asked, but the name died on her lips, and Link ways already halfway out the door.
It was evenfall by the time Zelda was fully rested. The rain still drizzled, saturating the air and muddying the ground as she and Link walked to Impa's home. When Zelda knocked and pushed open the doors she was met with another wave of nostalgia. Another place entirely unchanged from the memory of the last time she'd been here: the Sheikah girl-now a woman-standing before her with grave eyes and the Sheikah Slate in hand; their last conversation as they frantically planned their next moves; and Zelda's desperate pleas for her oldest friend to help her appointed knight when the time came.
There was a white-haired woman kneeling on the floor, slowly polishing the dark wooden floorboards.
"Impa?" Zelda called to her hesitantly. The Sheikah woman spun around to face them, her long tresses fluttering as she moved to reveal...a face completely unfamiliar to Zelda. The woman's big doe eyes went wide when she saw Link and Zelda. She had full rosy cheeks - now bright red - and a slender Sheikah symbol tattooed on her forehead. She dropped her polishing cloth and brought her hands to her face in shock. She seemed incapable of speech, her lip quivering at the sight of them. Link stepped forward.
"Paya," he said. "This is Zelda."
"Oh!" the woman peeped. She took a moment to compose herself and dropped her hands. Paya then rose to her feet, and bowed deeply. "I'm-I'm so sorry, Princess. I forgot all of my manners. You are here to see Lady Impa? My grandmother is upstairs."
G-grandmother? Zelda could not speak. Of course - of course! One hundred years had passed. She had seen the old woman when she watched over Link, in the days after he awoke. But there was the seeing she had done from the Hyrule Castle, and the being that she was doing now.
"I-" she started, but the words, whatever words they were, were caught in her throat.
Link was at her side again. "We can wait in here, Paya, it's fine."
The Sheikah girl nodded, bowed again, and crept up the stairs to the second story of the house. When she was gone, Zelda all but fell to her knees, and knelt before the dais at the centre of the room. Link knelt beside her, as present as ever. "You did well," he said. Zelda laughed weakly at that.
"No, I didn't," she shook her head, feeling herself go red. The ceiling creaked above them, and after a few minutes Paya descended the stairs, leading a small, elderly woman into the room. If seeing the village again made her heart quicken, seeing Impa was a full-frontal blow of grief. She gaped silently as Paya led the old woman on the dais, and settled her into the tower of pillows that was her throne. Beside her Link moved to rise, but the old woman raised a hand.
"No, do not rise for me, it is I who should bow to you." The old woman gazed slowly over to Zelda; if not for the signature Sheikah tattoo at the centre of her forehead, she would have been unrecognisable. For the second, or perhaps the third time that morning, words failed Zelda entirely. She let out a weak sob, unable to stop the fresh tears from welling in her eyes. Why was there so much pain? Why was it so hard to escape?
"Hello again, Princess," Impa breathed sadly. "You live. The goddess has been kind."
How pathetic she must look. How weak, and small. She couldn't stop the tears now. "Yes," was all she could manage, though Impa seemed unphased.
"Link, Paya, leave us," she commanded gently. "There are those blessed without memory of the Calamity. The Princess and I are not among them."
Wordlessly, Link and the Sheikah girl did as they were told, slipping out the door into the village outside.
"Look at me," Impa said, her voice as compassionate as it was stern. Zelda lifted her head, as difficult as it was to do so, and looked her old friend in the eyes. She knew her face was marred with grief, her tears hot against her skin.
"Time is cruel," Impa crossed her hands in her lap. "Have no shame in your grief."
Zelda shook her head. "No - I'm just a fool. But a part of me hoped, for some stupid reason-"
"-that I would be the same as you remember - ha!" the old woman slapped her knee. "Me too, me too!"
Zelda laughed, hiccupping and wiping away the last of her tears. "You were so tall," she chuckled brokenly. "I was jealous."
"Oh I know, I know. But now look at me - blessed with a long life, and a pretty granddaughter, and an even prettier best friend, alive and whole before me. If I had riches, I would give it all to that knight of yours."
Zelda smiled hesitantly. When she looked at the old woman she saw that a shade of her once-young friend was still there - the same sagely and savvy woman, once wise beyond her years and now wise precisely because of them. Time was cruel indeed; but in this case it had also been kind.
"I'm glad to see you, Impa," Zelda said warmly.
The old woman nodded. "As am I, Zelda."
They talked of Link and Zelda's journeys since the fall of Ganon, and of the great event itself. Despite the mere months since it had occurred, Zelda already found the memory of her toil in Hyrule Castle beginning to fade. Even those last blazing moments in Hyrule Field, as the beast raged before her, had been reduced to nothing more than colour and noise.
When Zelda was done, Impa regarded her solemnly. "You have a great many troubles, don't you, dear Zelda?"
Zelda wasn't sure where to begin. Is it that obvious?
The old woman waved her hand dismissively. "No need to burden yourself now. Supper will be ready soon. Tell me more of your travels."
Relieved, Zelda continued to tell Impa of their escapades; their troubles in Zora's Domain, her discovery in Vah Ruta, the formidable Zora prince. She recited it all as though it were a book, her mind and memory the ink and pages. Her old friend listened quietly, hands folded, occasionally nodding her head in acknowledgement.
Outside, the rain began to ease.
"How are you, Paya?"
Link stood with the Sheikah girl under outer lip of the pagoda roof, pressed up against the outer wall of Impa's house to avoid the rain. He considered pressing an ear to the wall and eavesdropping on the women inside, but a part of him had no desire to know of what they spoke.
Paya seemed startled as ever that he would speak to her. "Oh, me? Oh...you know. I'm fine. I do what I can here, and I look after my grandmother. It isn't much, but it's what I am."
"It's kind of you," Link assured her. "Your people are lucky."
"Oh, t-thank you!" the girl smiled meekly. "I hope we've made you feel as at home as possible here."
"You have," he nodded, and patted his stomach. "I'm looking forward to some of that famous Kakariko stew."
Paya's face lit up. "You are in luck then, Master Link. Dorian and Cado prepared a pot just yesterday."
They watched the rain together in silence, and Link absorbed the few moments of peace they had all been given. Here, shrouded by the tall mountains and misty air, it was as if this was the only place in all of Hyrule. Paya was busy peering through the window into Impa's audience room, though the glass was too foggy to see anything clearly.
"How is she?" Paya asked, breaking the silence. Link shrugged, though it was hard not to be honest with the bright-eyed Sheikah girl.
"I wish I knew," he replied. "Though I don't know she knows either."
"Oh," Paya frowned. "I suppose that makes sense. I can't imagine what she endured. She must be so strong. More so than any of us."
"You're probably right there." Link agreed, remembering the way she had carried him through his grief. She'd made it seem easy, natural even.
"I can't believe I have been lucky enough to see her with my own eyes," Paya gushed, bringing her hands to her cheeks. "All I heard growing up was how beautiful she was, how strong, and brave and wise. I thought it might not be true but…."
"She is."Link said aloud. The thought surprised him. The Princess was beautiful; few could seriously deny that. But what startled him was that the thought was old, almost a memory - a lingering feeling of something from long ago. Surely not...
The rain stopped, the clouds above beginning to fragment.
Beside him, Paya was fidgeting nervously with her robe. "You just...you just let me know if there's anything either of you need, Master Link!" she told him.
"Of course, Paya," Link smiled. "Thank you. This place is a sanctuary - for her and me."
"And Link," Paya began, suddenly sheepish. "I just want to thank you for everything you have done. You're - you're our hero, really."
Link blushed, and raised a hand awkwardly to scratch the back of his neck. "Oh, uh, it's nothing." Hero. The title had never seemed to suit him, even now.
Paya voice was quiet, almost as soft as a whisper. There was no rain to hide her words. "And...and I just want to thank you, personally."
"...for what, exactly?"
"I - well I can't put it into words. Just know that I'm grateful to be...to be your friend." The Sheikah girl's words were full with sincerity, and something about them seemed so final. As though she was bidding him goodbye. She brought her hands to her face again. "Is...is that okay with you?"
Link chuckled. "Sure, of course it is, Paya," and he saw her whole body relax. She nodded assuredly, before attempting to spy through the window again. There was still nothing to see; however, now that the rain had stopped he could hear a hushed conversation coming from the hut. Paya left the balcony, moving down to the deity statues at the base of the house. She began turning over the apples that sat in the offering bowls one by one, examining them for rot.
With nothing else do to, Link followed. His stomach rumbled at the sight of the apples. Racking his brain, he realised he couldn't remember the last time he'd even had something as hearty as stew. "Any spare apples I can take?" he asked, rubbing his belly again. Paya laughed and shook her head.
"You know, Master Link, now that the Princess is back, you're much more talkative," she observed, checking then replacing the last of the apples.
"Talkative?" Link was taken aback. No one had ever accused him of that before. "Am...am I?"
Above them the wide double doors creaked open. Zelda and Impa emerged onto the balcony; their faces both shadowed and solemn. The Princess' face was still withdrawn, but for half-a-heartbeat Link was sure she smiled down at them.
"Papaya," Impa called down from the balcony. "Take the Princess upstairs, and give her a fresh set of clothes. I've been wearing the same robe for decades and even I think she needs something new to wear."
The old woman raised a hand, pointed to the neighbouring house. Smoke billowed from its wide chimney. "And you, Champion. To Dorian. We need someone strong to carry that pot of soup."
Paya and Link shared a friendly look, and set about their tasks.
Once they had all supped and the village again quieted, Impa again sent Link and Paya away; she all but commanded the boy to go to bed, and had her granddaughter go to Claree's to help the tailor with her stock ('Or, whatever else she might need you to do' she had added).
Zelda was glad at least, to be alone with her friend again. Impa was one of the few people - or perhaps the only person - who could remember the events of the Calamity, let alone understand.
Impa had Zelda find and brew them a pot of tea. After some rearranging of Impa's pillows, they sat opposite each other on the dais. Zelda breathed in the smell of the tea, feeling once again transported through time. She was grateful that the precise Kakariko brew had not changed.
"Tell me the worst of it, Zelda. While the tea is warmest," Impa implored, before taking a long sip. Zelda followed, focusing on the warmth of the tea to steady her nerves.
Lowering her cup, she began to unravel her thoughts. "I know my destiny. I see it every time I look at the castle. I feel it every time I use the power. But I don't want any of it. The word 'Queen', the thought of a kingdom - it means nothing."
"You feel nothing, then?" pressed the old woman. "Not even for your home?"
"Nothing. There are times when I feel nothing at all, for anything or anyone. I...I'm so tired, Impa. So tired of caring..." She felt the sorrow welling up within her, pulling her down and down. "If I could tell you why, if there was even a reason..."
Impa lowered her cup to the floor, and leaned forward on her pillows. She clapped her hands down onto her lap. "Listen to me, Zelda. Whatever you are feeling, you must discover a way to work through it. Because as much as it is my wish is to see you happy after all these years - your work is not yet finished. In your absence, and in the absence of Calamity Ganon, all the darkness that remains in Hyrule will fester. If it is not stopped, it could reach the same level of danger as the Calamity. United, the people can rebuild from any tragedy. But torn apart, they become nothing. This is what will befall Hyrule should you not succeed in uniting this kingdom once again, as it was in your father's day."
"I know all of this," Zelda sighed. The old woman's words were true, so why did they fill her with so much dread?
Impa was resolute. "Then you know what you must do."
Zelda tried to protest, the words falling heavy from her tongue, hating the pitiful selfishness in her tone. "But what if that isn't what I want anymore?"
Gently but firmly, Impa chided her. "Do you think your knight wanted to do all he has done for us? Do you think I wanted to grow old as I waited for my friend to return? Do you think Purah, or Robbie, wanted to leave their people and their home to do the same?"
Though the old woman sat across from her, it felt as though there was a gulf between them. Ashamed, and weary from the pain, Zelda gazed at the wooden floor. In her hands, the teacup was beginning to cool.
Impa's tone softened, and she extended a wrinkled hand to Zelda, rubbing a thumb across her palm. "Zelda, I am not telling you that you cannot feel this way. One hundred years ago, your father and I tried to force a duty upon you, and I can see now the suffering it caused you. But still, to my sorrow, the duty remains. Not only to that boy, but to yourself - do not tell me you toiled away for one hundred years against that beast just to disappear from the world? You must find a way, and this time your own way, to fulfill your destiny."
Zelda blinked away the fresh tears. "I don't know how."
"Then tell me, what is it that you do want?"
That took some thought. For a few moments she thought the answer could again be 'nothing'. But the desires came to the surface one by one, each stronger than the last. "I want to see my home healed. And I want the Divine Beasts, and all of the Sheikah technology, to be protected from harm and misuse. And Link...I want him to be safe, and happy."
"Can these wishes not also bring forth the restoration of your kingdom? Or perhaps, could Hyrule's healing be a prerequisite of what you want? In what other scenario could Link be safe, or the Divine Beasts protected, if it is not you who reclaims the throne?"
Zelda pondered Impa's words while the old woman poured them both another cup of tea.
"Think on it as long as you need, Princess, and take your time to heal," the woman's voice was laced with regret. "There is no soft way to say it. You have had no rest, and these burdens-"
"-have broken me. Even Link sees it." Zelda sighed, aching from her core.
"Strange time for you to start underestimating him, Zelda," Impa cautioned. "It doesn't matter - stay here with him as long as you need. Kakariko is your home, and the Sheikah your people. We are at the ready to serve. We have been for one hundred years."
Impa sat before him on her pillows, hands crossed in her lap and the ornaments from her ceremonial hat swaying gently. Link had awoken the next morning to an urgent and pointed message from Ollie the inn-keep - that he was to seek an audience with the Sheikah leader before he or the Princess did anything else that day.
The old woman did not waste any time. "Zelda is not well, Link. She is worse than I thought she would be."
"I know." Link nodded. But I don't know why.
"I imagine it was a shock for you," Impa began, sensing his thoughts. "To remember only fragments of your former life. But your ignorance from the full extent of it has shielded you. The Princess has had no such bliss. She remembers all, she feels all. And somewhere between the time you rescued her and the time you brought her here, she has finally lost the ability to cope."
Impa's words were paralysing. Zelda could no longer cope? Hadn't Paya she said was the strongest out of all of them? What would the rest of them do now?
Impa clapped her hands against her knees. "Link, you must find a way to protect her. Even if it is from herself."
"But, you know, I'm just a knight. How could I-?"
"Are you just, Hero?" Impa interrupted, motioning to the crossbow that hung at his hip - he had not parted with it since they left the Domain. "The Princess told me of that contraption of yours. I wonder if you might be a little wiser than you think. And in any case, protection is not the right word here. Support is what she needs. Support to work herself through this. That is all you need do."
Link left the house alone, his thoughts heavy. His conversation with Impa had done little to ease him; after admitting he had no idea what 'support' he could give, Impa had implored him to look within himself, and his memories, to find a way to bring the Princess some joy while they continued their task. Even the smallest amount would do.
"Pain like ours is strong, Champion," she told him. "It needs strength to temper it."
With resignation, Link walked over to the goddess statue at the centre of the village. He offered it a silent prayer, and in reply the ethereal voice whispered words that only he could hear:
You who have conquered the shrines and claimed their Spirit Orbs. I can offer you great power….
Shrines...Link thought. He looked up to the hill overlooking the village, and the diffuse blue glow that emanated from the shrine atop the hill. It had been a few months at least since he'd gone down into one of those shrines, and in truth he'd lost count of how many he'd found. There must be more, he reflected. Zelda would know.
The realisation hit like a wave against the rocky surf; the suddenness of it startled him, and Link had to stop himself from exclaiming. Shrines! Of course! He turned and bounded towards the inn.
Ha Dahamar Shrine pulsed with a cool blue light, its swirling patterns reflected dimly in the low pool that surrounded its base. The fields of Necluda were shrouded in a fine mist, and above the sky had darkened with the signs of yet another rainstorm.
Link and Zelda shared a saddle, having left Zelda's horse in Kakariko Village, and a few miles back from their destination he had instructed Zelda to close her eyes. As they descended the rocky pass to the ruined plains, his eyes had passed briefly over the decaying Guardians that littered the field. Best not to linger very long, he decided. He brought their horse to a stop at the Shrine entrance and dismounted, biting his lip to stop from yelping as he landed in the icy water. Zelda waited patiently, silent as ever.
"Alright, open your eyes," Link called up to her, gently pulling the horse's reins to nudge it closer to the Shrine.
"I've seen this before," Zelda said plainly. "This is one of the first ones we found."
"You haven't seen all of it," Link helped her dismount, and lead her over to the pedestal. He watched as the understanding dawned on the Princess' face. Before them the interlacing mechanical doors of the Shrine were closed, so Link motioned towards the Shiekah Slate hooked at Zelda's hip.
"Go on," he urged her, unable to suppress his grin. Apprehensively, the Princess reached for her slate, and gently tapped it against the pedestal. The mechanical doors whirred open with an otherworldly ease, and soundlessly locked into place. In the chamber beyond, the glowing all-seeing Eye of the Sheikah was carved into the stone base of the Shrine, signifying the true entrance into the halls beyond.
"It's been completed," Link explained as Zelda carefully walked into the chamber. "But it should all still be down there." I think, he added mentally.
He joined her on the platform, and together they descended into the Shrine. Link's guess had been correct. Everything about the Shrine interior - from the towering ceilings to the blue lamps that lined the walls, to the ancient carvings in the stone floors - was just as he had left it.
The Princess could not speak. She gazed around the interior, her mouth hung open and her eyes full of awe. Her boots echoed on the stone floor as she stepped further into the shrine.
Link watched her anxiously. "Is...is it okay? Maybe an unexplored one would be better but-"
And then she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that he was almost winded. He gingerly placed his hands on her shoulders, unsure how to react to...this. Her angel-blonde hair was in his face, and she smelled of earth, and grass, and rain.
"'Is it okay?'" she teased after she pulled away. "Is it okay? Link.…"
Lighter than she had been for days, or maybe weeks, or months, the Princess spun away from him, marvelling at everything she saw. He watched as the young woman explored every inch of the Shrine that she could, snapping photos and taking notes, and beginning to prattle to herself, and to him, about what she saw.
Link tried to savour the afternoon they spent in the Shrine; to grasp it and make it one of his few solid and stable memories. But time moved so fast, and seemed like to slip through his fingers. He felt almost as reluctant as Zelda to leave, but he knew above them night was beginning to fall.
During their slow ride back to Kakariko under a starless sky, and indeed for the rest of the evening, Zelda's exuberance waned, and she spoke little. The weight and the sorrow that clouded her - it had not fully lifted. It couldn't have. Link reminded himself of Impa's advice; she needed support, and she needed time. Late in the evening, as he sat tending his crossbow on the balcony of Impa's house, he watched Paya and Zelda talk quietly by the fire. They were both dressed in the traditional Sheikah garb, Zelda's hair coiled into a high bun just like Paya's. In the low light they could almost be sisters; the way Zelda and Impa almost were a hundred years past, or so he heard. That was the way it should have been. The Sheikah girl said something to embarrass herself, her hands rushing to cover her face, and over the crackling fire Link heard them both laugh. He hoped this was one of many such evenings to come.
Pain like ours is strong, he mused, the old woman's words on his mind. And time so cruel.