Lexo of Kakariko Village walked with through the pine-strewn paths of Hebra, his apprentice trailing close behind. The young Rito held a parchment in his wingtips, and was trudging through the snow with a glum expression on his face.
The poem on the parchment was written in bold, almost brazen handwriting; as though it demanded to be read. The creed of the bard, Lexo's father had called it. Lexo usually kept it in his notebook, stored safely in his pack with his golden harp and travel provisions. But today he had instructed his apprentice to commit it to memory.
"Give me a hint at least, Lexo," Kass whined. "What does it mean?"
"A bard must create meaning for himself, Kass," Lexo admonished. "Until then, you will always be a fledgeling."
Kass frowned. "If I get it right, will you teach me one of the Royal Songs?"
"Not until I have no choice."
The bard had waited a long time to find a suitable apprentice; over ninety years now, as it happened. Kass was a quick learner, with a raw talent impressive even amongst the Rito, and respected Lexo despite their vast difference. But Lexo could not teach his apprentice the Royal Songs until the he understood their importance.
"Recite the poem once more," Lexo instructed. "Learn its character. Let the words be the meaning."
"If you say so," Kass sighed he began to read:
"The teller weaves a novel tale,
But knows the tale is a lie.
A truth inherent,
But purpose inerrant,
His mask not worn as a disguise."
"I still don't understand it," Kass added once he was done. "I will never understand it."
Lexo was undeterred. "Do not dismiss yourself like this, Kass. Fruit always rots-"
"-from within; I know, I know."
As they crested a snow-covered hill, the bard felt his breath catch, and his legs wobble. His age was beginning to show, he realised, and for a moment he wanted to rest. But then he saw them, the image branded within him - that ephemeral Princess that he could never quite capture, along with her blazing knight falling at her feet. Their was the song he had worked so hard to keep alive. The bard felt suddenly rejuvenated. The song would be passed on, in time.
"Again, Kass," Lexo said as he continued along the path. "Those words are more than a poem; they are your duty. As they once were mine."
Aching again, in her fingers, nose, and chest. The cold didn't numb her, as Zelda had assumed it would - it made her more aware, and keener too. Zelda felt it all; every cut and bruise that she had sustained in her young life, rendered again on the surface by the Hebra chill.
"How much further?" she called forward, her words half swallowed up by the wind. Sharp granite eyes shot back the answer: does it matter? Zelda returned Teba's tepid glare with her own scowl, but the Rito warrior seemed unmoved. For nearly an hour they had trudged through the snow towards the Flight Range, and for almost all of it, Zelda had been content to clench her jaw tight and silently brace against the cold. What could she and this Rito discuss anyway?
But Kass had told her she could trust Teba - that he could help her - and Zelda could not work with someone that she could not talk to. You did not mind Link's silences, came the reply from within. She bit her lip and forged ahead through the snow.
"I'm told the Flight Range is used for archery practice," Zelda said as caught up, breathless as she fought to keep pace through the snow.
Teba grunted in response, but said nothing.
"The Rito are well respected for their archery skills." she continued.
Teba grunted again. "You think I don't know that?"
"Well, I've always wanted to learn," Zelda fought down her mounting frustration with the Rito warrior, determined to remain amiable, and felt the sharpness of his gaze when he eyed her sceptically.
"Have you? And that crossbow? Just for show?"
"It was a gift," Zelda asserted, wanting to believe the lie. In their final moments together, Link must have clipped it to her belt. Could a gift be forced upon the receiver? she wondered. Regardless, the crossbow still hung at her hip; she had brought it with her on their trip to the Flight Range, needing it as a final secret link between who she truly was and the person she was pretending to be.
But it seemed Teba saw through her lie, as he had all the others. "Some gift. You forgot the bolts."
I don't need them, Zelda wanted to say. There was no way to explain. Perhaps she could trust this Rito, but she would be a fool to go about recklessly showing off the powers she had worked so hard to hide.
Instead she said, "I know," and surreptitiously ran her fingers over her right hand where the mark of the Royal Crest had once shone. Teba just was shook his head. A cutting gust of wind bellowed through the trees, and it felt as though the cold was passing right through her. Zelda still wore Link's Hylian tunic, unable to find anything warmer to wear, and her hands and fingers were beginning to blister from the frostbite. The Slate will have warmer clothes stored in the Inventory. I just need to wait until we retrieve it. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, closing her eyes and dreaming of a hot fire or a warm bed.
Teba scoffed. "You oughta be cold. Coming here dressed like that."
"How is this my fault?" Zelda snapped, the persistence of both the cold and Teba's negativity breaking her at last. "I didn't exactly have a choice!"
"Yeah, yeah, you're in some trouble so great that Kass won't even tell me what it is," Teba grumbled, irritably reaching up to adjust his armour straps, pulling them tighter than needed. "Maybe soon you'll promote me from nanny to acquaintance, and I can get the full story out of you both."
"You think I want to be here!?" Zelda demanded, her shivers becoming weak, racking sobs in the hollow of her chest. "Stuck in the far end of Hyrule, half frozen!?"
"I'm stuck here too, travelling on foot with someone too weak to manage walking alone."
"I can manage just fine without the likes of someone as rude as you!"
A noise came from Teba that almost sounded like a laugh, if Zelda believed the warrior to have a single mite of humour within him. "Oh, that all you got, Rowan? I'm rude? Because I can be a lot worse."
The Shrine by the ravine was finally coming into view, the cerulean pulse marking a faint silhouette against the misty air. They came to a fork in the path that led towards the Flight Range, and when Zelda had no reply for him, Teba shook his head again and hastened through the snow.
Zelda chased after him, insolent, footfalls heavy as the snow crunched under her feet. "You complain, but you never had to help me-"
Teba spun around to face her, his face drawn and dark. "Maybe I didn't but-"
And then he froze. His yellow eyes looked past her, turning from granite to molten, and he raised wings, pacifying, yielding almost. "Okay, Rowan, can you just-"
She ignored his sudden alarm, her anger having snowballed inside of her. "Look it isn't my fault what Kass tells you or doesn't-"
"Just shush for a second-" The warrior's gaze flitted back and forth between Zelda and the path behind them.
"I'm trying to talk to you-"
Teba was not listening. "Rowan-" he began.
"-you know these clothes aren't even mine-"
"Dammit, shut up will you!?" Teba burst forward and seized her by the shoulders, hiss furious glare crashing down through Zelda's anger and stopping the words in her throat.
Silence fell, save the hymnal whines of the winds, and the rumbling, ominous sounds of snarls in the distance. She shuddered against the sound, and withered out of Teba's grip.
Drawing her crossbow, Zelda turned slowly towards a cluster of pines by the path. Shadows shifted among the trees, pine needles crunching in the snow underfoot, and gradually she became aware of half a dozen hungry yellow eyes emerging like spectres from amongst the trunks.
Teba seized her again, grabbing an arm and yanking her backwards. "To the Flight Range! Run!" He shouted, and before Zelda could speak, the wolves burst forward.
Lightning fast, Teba loosed an arrow in their direction. It missed, thwacking emphatically against a tree trunk. Zelda raised her crossbow, but a blur of muted blues and greys bowled her over, and half buried her in the snow.
"Rowan!" Teba shouted, but his voice was drowned out by Zelda's own shrieks and the ripping snarls of the wolf on top of her. Her vision was swallowed up by its yellow-black teeth, and she could feel the pinpricks of claws against her chest. She fumbled for her crossbow, reservations forgotten, the desperation of survival thunderous and pulsing against the inside of er skull. Instinct symphonic, Zelda pulled the crossbow's trigger and felt her right hand burn.
She heard a yelp, and felt the wolf jolt, and watched in shock as it slumped limply at her side. No time to think. Zelda dropped the crossbow, scrambling backwards, and rolled, half-sobbing as she crawled through the snow, the snow stinging her fingers, her cheeks, her lips. Did he see? Oh Goddess, did Teba see? Horror flooded Zelda when she looked down and saw - the golden mark of the Royal Crest had returned to her right hand. If someone found her; if someone saw her use her magic…!
From behind came the taunt, "Come on!", and Zelda turned to see Teba still engaged with a duo of wolves, his angular Rito bow in hand. Snarling and snapping, they circled aggressively, watching for Teba to drop his guard. They darted back and forth, a shifting blur against the stark white snow that Teba could not catch with an arrow. One, two, three he fire, all squelching in the snow. I should run, Zelda thought. I should save myself. One of the wolves feinted, snapping at Teba's right flank. He flinched, faltering, and the wolf leapt, sinking its teeth into Teba's wing.
The warrior cried out, and Zelda looked down at the glowing crest on her hand. No, she decided. I will run no longer.
Fighting through the lingering shock and the sting of snow against her skin, Zelda crawled back to the dead wolf. She yanked her crossbow out from underneath its, and wrenched the string into its nock.
Ahead of her, Teba desperately tried to fend off the attacking wolf. With a roar, he rammed his bow into its side, the curved wood snapping under the force of the blow. But the wolf was undeterred, and yanked Teba forward. He fell, landing hard, droplets of angry red blood dotting the blanketed ground. Zelda took a deep breath, as she had seen Link do, focusing her power into the crossbow. The distance to cover was not far, but if she fired too soon, or too late, she could very well kill Teba instead of one of the wolves. It's part of the song, she remembered Link explaining to her, those many weeks ago when he had taught her to meditate. Your breath sets the rhythm.
Whatever you say, Hero. Zelda exhaled and pulled the trigger.
The first wolf was thrown backwards by a golden bolt of light that tore through its chest, while the second leapt to take his packmate's place, pinning Teba once more to the ground. Mechanical, methodical, Zelda reloaded, raised the crossbow, breathed deep and fired again. Zelda cursed under her breath as the bolt grazed harmlessly by the second wolf's flank, groaning as she fought to reload the crossbow. But the beast was staggered at least, and seeing the opportunity, Teba lurched forward, pulling an arrow from his quiver. Zelda looked up to see him sink the arrowhead into the wolf's eye, before collapsing back into the soft snow.
When Teba finally looked at her - breathless and standing there with the crossbow still raised - he almost seemed to smile, and then, with a ferocity that startled her, he burst into laughter. "Well, I'll be damned…" he said as he struggled to find his footing.
Zelda marched over to him and held out a hand. "Now, what was it you said?" Her voice was acidic, victorious. "I'm too weak to go alone?"
She watched with a faint sense of awe as Teba soared out of the ravine, the ferocious updrafts launching him high above the precipice. For a moment he was silhouetted by the sun, and Zelda squinted up to see the Sheikah Slate secured at his belt, and the Master Sword clutched between his talons. She breathed a long sigh of relief, but felt it catch when she remembered the danger that she was in. If anyone sees me with that Sword...or that Slate...
"This just keeps getting better," Teba quipped as he handed the possessions to her.
"I can explain," Zelda said, but Teba just rolled his eyes, muttering "I'll bet."
After their tussle with the wolves, Teba had been more than happy to retrieve the Sword and Slate for Zelda. Perhaps not happy, but uncomplaining, at least.
On inspection, the Master Sword was undamaged - something Zelda decided was a good omen - but the Sheikah Slate would not turn on. Slinging the sheathed Sword loosely over her shoulder, she fiddled with the Slate and frowned when nothing happened. Insistent, and increasingly more erratic, she tapped at the screen, over and over as it stayed passively, and frustratingly blank.
"I can't be seen with these," Zelda said, giving up. She scanned the pass for any signs of life. "Do you have somewhere I can store them?"
"I've got a chest at the Flight Range," Teba answered after some thought. "And the Range is my territory. No one touches my stuff."
"Of course," Zelda muttered, and followed Teba along the path towards the shelter at the Flight Range. When she looked at his wing, she saw that it was painted with long streaks of blood, staining his white feathers in graduated hues of red and brown. "Are you in any pain?"
Teba tested his injured wing, frowning slightly as the feathers shifted, revealing new beads of blood. He shrugged. "I'll be fine."
Typical Warrior, Zelda noted.
The fire at the Flight Range was burning low; Zelda felt her skin prickle just at the sight of it. She and Teba sat huddled in close to the flames, rewarming themselves after their morning trek. While Teba preened his damaged feathers, Zelda worked again on the Sheikah Slate, poking at the screen and testing the buttons without result.
"You knew Link," the warrior said after a time. He was inspecting the broken limb of his bow, clicking his beak as he prodded the splintered wood. "The real you, I mean, not this other kid you're trying to be."
It wasn't a question. Zelda thought on Kass's assurance that Teba was trustworthy, and wondered if it was reckless trusting either of them. But hadn't these two Rito saved her life? Hadn't they aided in her disguise? Still, telling them anything felt dangerous. Zelda looked down to her right hand; thankfully, the Royal Crest had faded.
"What makes you say that?" she asked innocently.
The Rito nodded at the Sword still slung over Zelda's shoulder. "You're wearing his sword. Don't deny it. You can't tell me some travelling merchant had it in his stock."
The fire crackled between them, punctuating the weighty silence, and Zelda watched the wavering flames as she pondered her words. At a loss, she looked at the Sheikah Slate in her lap. It offered no help.
Eventually, all she could bring herself to say was, "I travelled with him for a time." The rest? The arguments, the jokes, the kiss? She could hardly bear to think about it. Did any of it actually happen? Or was it another dream?
"Is that all I'm gonna get?"
Zelda bristled. "I'm in hiding, unless you had already forgotten." She tapped nervously at the Sheikah Slate screen. Work, damn you. Teba's eyes were boring into her, unimpressed. "Why would I tell you anything else?" she added defensively.
"Because I know Link. That sword is part of him. And you showing up here without him? Doesn't look so good." Teba gripped his bow between his wingtips and snapped the damaged limb clean where it splintered. He was disassembling it, Zelda noted, salvaging it.
Teba tossed the broken limb in the fire. The flames consumed it readily as he spoke; "Saki says my eyesight is going, but I still see. People don't just disappear, and they don't just show up either. You want me to help you, Rowan? Convince me you didn't kill my friend."
Cornered, Zelda relented at last. "Fine. But it isn't my fault if you don't believe who I am."
"You know I don't care."
It took nearly an hour to explain the full story to Teba - who she really was, the day of Ganon's defeat, the envoy of Zora, the altercation in the desert, the Gerudo male who had taken Hyrule Castle, and why Link was not with her. By the time Zelda was done, Teba had completely taken down his bow and was halfway through sorting the individual components. It had begun to snow. "The Princess of Hyrule is dead, along with the rest of the Champions."
"I have certainly heard, but I believe me when I say that I am telling the truth," Zelda leant back, her tale complete. "Zelda is in danger, and Cinelgen is likely looking for her."
"Cinelgen," Teba repeated, clicking his beak, as though scorning the very word he spoke. "A male Gerudo in Hyrule Castle. More novelties." He held out a wing. "Gimme a look at that crossbow."
Zelda unclipped the weapon from her belt and passed it to him, watching as Teba turned it over. He tested the mechanism, loaded and unloaded the string, humming with interest. "Is it inherently magic or...?"
"Link made it. It can fire real bolts," Zelda explained. "Magic is just easier for me, though I would like to avoid using it."
Teba handed the crossbow back. "Get yourself some real bolts then, Rowan."
If I had any idea where to get them. Zelda could make bolts from regular arrows, as she had learned to do in Zora's Domain, but that too required the use of her magic. Her sudden apprehension gave her pause; she had spent so much time desperately reaching for her powers, and now she couldn't imagine being without them. Everything new and at once a contradiction, in this strange version of Hyrule she had woken up to.
Teba had returned to sorting the components of his bow - the gears, the string, the bracing. He lifted a mechanical gear to his eye, angular brow arching as he examined the threading.
"I've given you my story, Teba" Zelda clapped her hands onto her lap to punctuate having held her end of the bargain. "I want to hear yours. Kass tells me there are disappearances in Rito Village."
Teba squinted at the gear. "No."
"I beg your pardon?"
"It's sensitive information," he said.
"What I told you was sensitive information!"
"And I won't tell anyone, obviously. I won't even tell my wife, if that helps you sleep." His eyes were strained, fixed on the gear, and he mouthed something to himself that Zelda could not hear.
"I know where your Rito are going," Zelda insisted. "I can help you-"
"I will manage fine on my own."
"But you won't. Kass said-"
"I don't need help," Teba barked. He met her baffled gaze, his eyes simmering with fury.
Zelda looked again at the mechnical gear in his wingtips. "Don't you?" she scrambled forward and snatched from him, turning it over to read the small engraving on the side. Harth of Lake Totori.
"What does it say?" she demanded, intent. Teba's wing shot out to snatch the gear from her, but Zelda jolted out of his reach. "What does it say!?"
"Give that here!" Teba sprang to his feet, the organised piles of metal components scattering across the floor. He wrenched the gear from Zelda's hands with such force that it stung. She watched him return to the fire, the answer clear.
"You can't read it can you?" she whispered. "You even said your eyesight is failing. Why won't you let me help you? I told you how dangerous it is out there. I told you what is at stake."
Teba did not answer. His stony eyes gazed deep into the fire, and Zelda knew that she would no longer get through to him. Damn you, she thought. And damn you, Kass. Damn your trust. Who could ever work with this man?
With one last huff, Zelda stood and scanned the Flight Range for the chest Teba had mentioned. There was a large trunk in the corner, its handle painted the same colour as Teba's pauldrons; a dull grey flanked by yellow and green stripes. She gently stowed the Master Sword, the crossbow, and still-broken Sheikah Slate within, not bothering to ask Teba if she had chosen the right chest, instead taking his silence as confirmation that she had. When she turned back to the fire, she spotted two figures emerging into the structure from the snowfall: a pink-feathered Rito woman leading a small white fledgeling by the wingtip. Zelda bit her lip. She could feel her blood rushing in her ears.
"Where have you been, Teba?" Saki scolded as she and Tulin approached. "We have been looking for you!"
Teba nodded in Zelda's direction. "Rowan wanted to see the Range." He gestured to the re-ordered pile of mechanical components before him. "I was about to show him how Rito bows are made."
True to your word at least, Zelda thought. She gave Teba's family a small wave, and locked eyes with Tulin, smiling with teeth bared. A threat she had learned from the wolves.
Saki nudged Tulin towards his father. "Tulin's training is your duty."
"I thought you disapproved," Teba said, awkwardly welcoming his son with an outstretched wing. "Said I was pushing him too hard."
"Well, I-" Saki stammered. "You know I fail to see the use in-"
"You both disapprove," Tulin murmured suddenly, drawing bewildered glares from his parents. "I know what you think of me."
The familiarity stung. Zelda heard the sadness in Tulin's voice, and for a moment, it was her own family standing in the Flight Range. Her father, her failures, her hopelessness. She knew that it was time that she leave, to give the family some privacy and to halt her tears.
Saki caught her by the arm as Zelda walked past. "My apologies, Rowan," she sighed.
Zelda looked the Rito woman in the eye, shaking her head. "Don't worry about me," she said, and Saki recoiled, stunned.
As she began the long trek back to the village, Zelda could hear Teba and his family arguing, their voices low and strained. Her tears had nowhere to go then, and they mixed in with the melting snowflakes that fell on her cheeks.
Cinelgen had given Link a small journal with which to take notes, but so far he was not sure what to record. I have no idea what I'm doing, was the first thing that came to mind. I'm going to get myself killed, was the second.
He had spent the night prior wracking his brains for everything he could remember about the Guardians. They were automatons, created to protect Hyrule against Ganon, with singular purpose and deadly capability. What are they for now that Ganon is dead? He had wondered. What could they be made to do?
Troubling thoughts. If Link succeeded, he would deliver Cinelgen a weapon that even he himself would struggle to defeat. And if he failed, he would most likely be killed. States in binary opposition, and stakes as high as could be; an environment that Link at least drew comfort from, given the familiarity of the situation.
The Guardian centred its beady eye on Link, its swirling shell pulsing with a mixture of oranges and blues. It crouched by the far wall of the Gatehouse, and pulled its in close. Huddling, defensive. It's afraid, if that was possible.
"I won't hurt you," Link soothed as he approached, empty hands held out to show that he carried no weapons. Can it even understand?
At his flank were Inglis and a blonde Hylian woman named Aurelia, assigned to guard him during the sessions, and to rescue him the moment the Guardian turned aggressive. Both of the Hylians carried halberds, longer than a normal spear by half. Above, Cinelgen and his personal guard watched from the upper level of the Gatehouse.
The closer Link and the guards moved towards the automaton, the more it seemed to shrink against the wall. Like a wounded animal, Link thought, scrunching his nose at the absurdity of the notion.
"Back up," Link waved Inglis and Aurelia away. "We're cornering it. It might lash out."
Animals lash out, not machines, Link corrected himself. But the Divine Beasts were 'machines', and Link had felt one speak to him when Zelda had inducted him as a temporary pilot of Vah Naboris. Did that make them alive? Did that make the Guardians alive?
"Any thoughts, Champion?" Cinelgen called down from the balcony.
Link kept his gaze fixed on the Guardian. If he concentrated, he could hear the gentle whirring of its gears. Its body now glowed a steady, almost straining orange-red, the light bursting from between its patterned swirls. If it did not feel, why would it huddle like that, as if in fear? Confusion became curiosity, and then recklessness. "I want to approach it alone," Link said.
"Absolutely not," he replied.
"It will always be hostile if we come at it with weapons," Link countered. "We need to show that we trust it before it can trust us." He turned towards Inglis and Aurelia once more, motioning for them to retreat.
Inglis looked nervously up at Cinelgen, but after a moment of thought, he brought his halberd to his side. "I agree with Link."
Beside them, Aurelia gave a long sigh. "The Champion is the expert," she conceded as she lowered her weapon. "But do not blame me if he gets himself killed."
Link took a deep breath as he squared up to the Guardian. It had not taken its eye off him. "He wouldn't be the first of his kind kill me." And I think I'm past being afraid of death.
Above, Cinelgen's face had hardened, though the amused smile that seemed to live permanently on his lips did not fall. After a moment's consideration, the Gerudo ordered, "If it attacks, hold nothing back."
Inglis and Aurelia nodded, before pulling back to the edges of the Gatehouse arena, leaving Link alone with the Guardian. In his periphery, he could still see their shadows, ready to strike at the first sign of danger.
Breath held low in his throat, and with a shaking hand outstretched, Link took a slow step towards the Guardian.
At first, he spoke to calm his own nerves. "I'm here to apologise," he began. The Guardian did not react, and so Link took a tentative step forward. "I've killed more of your kind than I can count." Another step, and then another, closing the gulf between them. "But I believe you were made for a good purpose." Another step took him within arm's reach of the automaton. "I don't think you want to hurt people." The whole room held its breath.
He took a final step and placed a cautious hand on the Guardian's outer shell. It felt cool, with a rough texture somewhere between fine ceramic and ageing stone. But somehow there was a warmth beneath, and Link suddenly realised that the Guardian had not moved.
He looked up at its glowing eye and smiled. "Hey there, my name's Link."
Initially, the change was undetectable. Flickers in the light behind the Guardian's glowing eye, which gradually became more pronounced, more distinct. Blinking, Link realised. Random at first, but then more ordered. Purposeful. Communicative. "What are you trying to say?" he whispered, bewildered, and the Guardian's blinking intensified.
"Something's happening," Link called out, lifting his hand away from the shell, eye's locked on the Guardian. Inglis and Aurelia wasted no time, appearing at his side with their weapons ready.
"No, wait, I meant-," he tried to say, but it was too late. The Guardian retaliated against the sudden show of force, its segmented leg striking forward like a snake. Inglis was instantaneous; he caught the Guardian's barb-like foot with the point of his halberd, the sound of metal ringing discordantly in Link's ears. The automaton recoiled. Its spidery legs scrambled, pulling it halfway up the wall of the Gatehouse, and the air was filled with panicked shouts. Cinelgen's guards brought their spears to bear. Inglis seized Link by the arm, wrenching him back, Aurelia advanced on the Guardian, her halberd ready to strike. Above the chaos, ringing down clear from the parapets, Cinelgen's voice boomed."Control it! Shut it down!"
Cinelgen's guards spilt down to the Gatehouse arena, immediately forming a wall of shields and spears to contain the Guardian. It blinked its eye furiously, mechanical head swivelling from left and right as it tried to track the guards' movements, its shell a riot of colour, flashing from blue to orange to pink.
"Wait! Wait, please!" Link shouted, but his words word swallowed by the commotion. Desperate, he brought his elbow hard across the Inglis' face, snatching the halberd from his slackened grip and shoving through the wall of guards.
Aurelia spun on her heels to meet him, but Link jabbed the butt of his halberd into her chest. She went down, winded, gasping, and Link used the opening to throw himself in front of the panicked Guardian. At once, the wall of guards froze. They would not-could not-injure Cinelgen's prize prisoner, it seemed, and Link knew he now had the upper hand. He held the halberd blade towards the wall of guards, and snarled, "No one move."
"Calm yourself, Champion!" Cinelgen called down from the parapet.
"It's afraid, Cinelgen!" Link shouted back. "Didn't you listen to me!?"
"Afraid!?" Cinelgen roared, slapping his hands down onto the railing of the balcony. "It's a machine!"
Was it, truly? Link threw the halberd to the ground and turned to face the Guardian. It was no longer blinking. Link looked again into its cyclops eye, searching for a small glimmer of consciousness. Nothing. Nothing but the dead eye of a machine that had outlived its purpose; a soldier with nothing left to fight.
This is folly, he decided. Even if he could control the Guardian, which he knew he probably couldn't, he would have no idea what to do with it. But just as he was about to turn - just as he was about to announce to Cinelgen that he had given up - the Guardian began to blink once more. The same pattern repeated again, and again. Three short, three long, three short, three long. Link held out his hand, and gingerly placed it against the Guardian one last time. The pulsing lights on its shell faded to a calm, steady blue as it continued to blink the same pattern. What are you trying to say?
"We've done enough for today," Link said, holding his hand still. "We can come back tomorrow."
In the days that followed, Link took to jotting down observations in his journal. Once he started, he could not stop. The scratch of the pen against the paper was almost therapeutic, clearing his clouded, memory-addled mind.
Despite its occupation, Hyrule Castle was eerily quiet. People lived there, that was certain. Maybe two dozen of Cinelgen's Successors, and then another few dozen Yiga on top of that. But to an outsider, it would seem empty, and Cinelgen's number struck Link as surprisingly few. This was the group that had almost killed the Zora Prince, that had started a war, and had seemingly infiltrated nearly every race of Hyrule. Except for the Gorons, Link amended, as he had not seen a single one since his arrival at the Castle a week or so prior.
He had been trying to keep count of the bandits' numbers, to track the individual races, learn the hierarchy. It was difficult - he was still a prisoner, and his exposure to the rest of Cinelgen's people came only through his sessions in the Gatehouse with the Guardian and the daily suppers the entire cohort took in the Dining Hall. During supper Link kept a low profile, his head low as his eyes surreptitiously surveyed the room, making mental notes on those around him: their facial features, their mannerisms, the snippets of conversation that came loose from slightly inebriated tongues. Any information he could collect, anything he could take in, it could all be useful. Escape. Mutiny. Insurgency. It was all on his mind; but with some chagrin he discovered that Mipha's power still eluded him, and the wounds on his chest from where Cinelgen had shot him were slow to heal. Trying to escape now would be suicide. So Link walked with calm hands and a watchful eye, wearing the disguise of the complacent prisoner.
It was always Inglis that was made to fetch Link for supper. He never spoke, only frowned and clenched his jaw, clearly none-too-pleased to be given the role of errand-boy. As the Inglis led him through the halls of the Royal Apartments to supper, Link noticed on his cheek a new ugly blotch of fading purples and reds - a bruise from where Link had elbowed him.
"Sorry about, by the way," Link said. "First the arrow to the shoulder, and then an elbow to the face."
The corners of Inglis's lips pricked into a smile. "Not many guys get to say they got beat by the Hero of Hyrule," he shrugged, and Link let out a reedy laugh.
"Probably didn't make it hurt any less,"
Inglis smiled again as he shook his head, and Link started as the sweet voice rang in his ears. Now that the Princess is back, you're much more talkative.
Wasn't it Paya who had said that to him? On that rainy afternoon muddled among the catalogue of many rainy afternoons that Link had lived since then? Much more talkative. Link felt even more so now that Zelda was gone. Making up for her absence, perhaps, or taking on the mantle, assuming control; extending himself into the hollow that she had left within him. And when he spoke, he could pretend that she might hear.
Inglis led Link into the Dining Hall without fanfare. Cinelgen's Successors - Hylians, Gerudo, a handful of Rito and Zora, some dressed in plain garb and others in traditional Yiga reds - were dining at the long tables that ran the length of the room. Only a few heads turned to observe the newcomers, their chatter dipping momentarily before resuming as though nothing had happened. The Dining Hall was the most used room in the Castle, and it showed. Chairs were overturned; the wax of burned-down candles spilt onto the tables; rotting fruit was left to spoil; and the carpets were littered with crumbs, squashed food, and wine stains. Do none of them care?
Cinelgen was seated at the table closest to the fire, with Milagre at his side. They were talking privately, heads drawn in close, with two wide bowls of an unwelcoming brown stew before them. There was an empty place laid out for Inglis next to Cinelgen, and another set opposite the trio. An interrogation, Link noted, steeling himself.
The Gerudo threw his long arms wide when he saw Inglis approach with Link in tow. "Ah, there we are! My two favourite Hylians!"
Milagre scoffed, lifting her attention from her book. "Thanks," she muttered, but a small smile lifted her face when she looked up at them. Or more specifically, when she looked at Inglis. Out the corner of his eye, Link saw the corners of Inglis's mouth twitch.
Cinelgen was beckoning them over enthusiastically. "Sit, Link! There's stew!"
As Link sat down, Cinelgen cupped his hands to his lips, his voice booming through the rowdy room. "Hana!" he called out. "More stew!"
Inglis took his place wordlessly at Cinelgen's side, and Cinelgen gave him a welcoming slap on the back, before turning his attention onto Link, eyes wide and expectant.
Link stared back, unnerved. "Why am I here?" he asked. Usually he would be left somewhere isolated, in the far corner of the room, with no dining partners save his two personal guards; a pair of untalkative and stern male Hylians who had not even bothered to tell Link their names.
"Why is he here?" Cinelgen repeated with a laugh. "This is family dinner." He spoke as if the words were inherent.
Link looked to Inglis and Milagre for some clarification, but Inglis's face was frustratingly blank, and Milagre had returned to her book.
There was no one to speak for him. "We're not...family?"
In response, Cinelgen clapped his hands and laughed with thunderous abandon, as though Link had told a brilliant joke. "No, no," he grinned."Can you imagine!"
Link glared at Inglis, eyes shouting the question, what the fuck is this!? Inglis gave nothing back, though Link detected the slightest hint of a shrug.
"A figure of speech, Champion," Cinelgen went on, still shaking from laughter. "And an offering of friendship. You are doing great work with the Guardian, but I thought it best that we discuss. After all, we cannot..."
Link studied the Gerudo's face as he half-listened, noticing again the scars that marred his face. In fact, Mila had similar scars, and Inglis too. Yiga training, Link surmised. More brutal than any Knight's.
The Dining Hall fell away. When are you going to learn Link? There it was again, his father's voice. You just aren't enough. Link opened his mouth to speak, to argue, to defend himself with words rather than swords - an art that he was still learning.
Why can't you see I'm trying? Why do you hate me so much?
Cinelgen clapped again, shattering Link's reverie. "There they are, the prettiest girls in all of Hyrule."
Debatable, thought Link as two young Hylian women approached the table, each carrying a bowl of stew. The elder one was in the lead - Link recognised her as Aurelia, the Yiga assigned to protect him during his sessions with the Guardian. Behind her scurried a skinny, freckle-faced girl who Link knew as Hana. She was one of the cooks, Link remembered, drawing her out of his mental catalogue of faces. She was Yiga too, by birth; Link had learned from overheard conversations that while many of the Yiga were recruits, a few were born into the clan, and were marked so by a small inverted Sheikah eye tattooed on their left wrist. Milagre had a similar tattoo, but Inglis's and Cinelgen's wrists were bare.
"Aurelia," Cinelgen smiled at the Yiga woman, revealing a line of yellowed teeth. "What a surprise."
Milagre had finally lowered her book, her brow knotted. "What are you doing here, Aury?"
The Yiga woman shrugged. "Just helping out Hana, sisterly favour." She placed a bowl down in front of Link, smiling warmly as she did, and Link noted that she too had a Yiga tattoo on her wrist. Hana had already placed her bowl down in front of Inglis and was scampering back to the kitchens.
"You should be at the Gatehouse," Milagre said sternly. "You are on duty-"
"If that thing wanted to break out, it would have by now. Lighten up a little, Lady Secretary, I'll head back after supper," Aurelia teased, drawing out a scowl from Milagre. She bowed her head at the trio, and smiled again at Link, before turning to follow her sister.
"She calls me that to vex me," Milagre said to Cinelgen, her voice urgent. "You know she doesn't agree with what we did-"
Cinelgen held out a hand to silence her. A disagreement, Link noted, adding it to his list of observations. "Champion," Cinelgen said calmly, his attention returning to Link. "As I said, I brought you here to discuss your methods with the Guardian. You know I disagree."
Link shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He lifted his spoon from the table, dunking it lazily into the bowl of stew. "It needs to trust me. Having so many guards there...it doesn't help."
Cinelgen's smile fell away. "The guards are there to protect you, to prevent it from killing you."
"It's a war machine," Link explained firmly, cautious not to openly defy his Gerudo captor. "Threaten it and it will kill me."
"Yes! A machine!" Cinelgen slapped the table. "Not a pet! Do you think it feels?"
Maybe. Link shrugged. "I don't know. But you can't control it with threats alone."
"Can't we?" Cinelgen chuckled and leant back in his chair. "Your sympathy speaks to your status as a prisoner, but you relative freedom has made you foolhardy."
"I don't understand," Link said, unsettled by the growing smile on Cinelgen's face.
The Gerudo continued, his face darkening. "You say threats don't always work. Well, know this: if you don't do as I say, I will kill you well before the Guardian does." He clapped a hand on Link's shoulder, his long fingers digging through the fabric of Link's shirt, and it took all of his will power not to wrench away. "How does that sound?"
"You just said you're trying to protect me."
"Yes, yes, smart!" Cinelgen snapped his fingers. "But do you think we need you, Champion? That we based our entire plan around you?" He laughed again and placed a gentle hand on Milagre's book, gently but decisively lowering it to the table. "Be so good as to fetch them, will you Mila?"
With a huff, Milagre sprang to her feet and turned to leave. "Now who's the errand-boy?" she remarked to Inglis as she passed. Link felt his stomach churn. Them? Minutes passed. Inglis was silent, spooning chunks of braised meat and soggy vegetables into his mouth, and Cinelgen sat patiently with his arms folded and his head resting against the back of his chair. Every time Link met his gaze, the Gerudo grinned, and once he even winked. Link wanted to be sick.
And then, for the first time that evening, the entire Dining Hall hushed. When Link turned to see who Mila had been sent to retrieve, his mouth fell open, the floor beneath him seeming to fall away. Were he not already seated he would have fallen to his knees.
Mila lead in two Sheikah males, instantly recognisable despite their apparent harsh treatment under captivity. One was the same age as Link, and the older elderly and frail, but both were people he had come to know well during his travels post-resurrection; Robbie of Akkala, and his son, Granté.
The prisoners were led by Mila single file by a thick rope that had been tied around their necks. The bindings around their hands were so tight that dried blood was crusted against them, and their traditional Sheikah garb was badly torn and soiled, though Robbie still wore his pair of mechanical bronze goggles. Some of the Successors jeered and laughed when they saw the Sheikah, words such as traitors and fools filling the room.
"Above all, Link, I would like you to work at my side," Cinelgen crooned as Milagre lead the Sheikah over to their table. "You have so much potential that you don't see. But I am a man of practicality. If you fail, I will find another way to secure what I want."
"And what is it that you want?" Link asked, his voice hollow, eyes fixed on the two Sheikah.
"I already told you: Hyrule and everything within." Cinelgen's frown brightened into a thin-lipped smile. "But first, let me introduce you to my new guests!"
"There is no need," Robbie cut in, voice raspy, a mixture of curiosity and disapproval at seeing Link here, alone, and dining with their captors. "I believe Link remembers us well enough."
High above Lake Totori, the sun passed its zenith and began its descent towards the west. The lake waters shone, painted in shimmering golds and ambers, drinking in the stark winter sunlight. After a week, there was finally a second day without snow, and without clouds. Like the waters below, Zelda too savoured the sun, wishing in vain that it would never set.
Beside her, Kass raised his accordion to his chest. "I believe you are ready," he said. "Listen to the melody first, worry about the rhythm later."
Zelda held her own instrument in hand – the golden harp that Kass had given her, passed on to him by his mentor, Lexo. Kass and Zelda had spent the better part of the morning sitting together in Rito Village as he taught her the basics: how to pluck the strings, the notes that it could make. It had been slow – Zelda had precisely zero musical training – but it seemed that they could now progress to playing actual songs.
Zelda ran her fingers over the strings as she listened to the melody that Kass played for her. It was so short that he played it twice.
"Now, listen again, little sparrow," Kass instructed gently. "Feel the shape of the song, learn its character, as well as the notes."
The bard repeated the song a third time, slowly at first, but gaining speed as she learned the song. Zelda copied the melody on her harp. She focused on the rise and fall of the melody as she played – the way the song seemed caught between hopeful and sorrowful, and the way it sounded somehow ancient, the way it was...almost familiar.
"I know this song," she breathed, fingers frozen on the strings. The memory was hazy, half-forgotten, a blur of colour and noise. But the song; it burned within her. "I have heard it before."
"Perhaps Lexo played it for you, in your previous life?" Kass suggested.
"Perhaps. Perhaps he did." But there was more to it than that, Zelda knew. "I've heard it recently though. In some dream or…in the back of my mind. What is it called?"
"The name is lost," Kass explained. "But Lexo knew it was connected somehow to the Royal Family. A song adrift in time."
"Time…," Zelda repeated, eyes fixed on the horizon beyond.
Kass lowered his accordion; Zelda was too lost in her musings for the lesson to continue. "My teacher once said that song is a memory made immortal," he stated. "He said that songs have an identity. A purpose."
"That sounds like Lexo," Zelda agreed with a soft laugh.
She had been in the village almost a week now. Teba either refused or was too ashamed to talk to her; so Zelda decided to use her now-abundant time to convalesce. She seemed safe, at least for the moment, and wanted to let her mind settle and recover from the chaos she had endured in the past few months. But still, she could not remain idle. It did not suit her. Zelda wrote two letters-one to Sidon and one to Buliara - informing them that she and Link were in danger and imploring them to help in any way possible. Then she entrusted the letters to Kass, who was more than happy to oblige the role of courier. "It is an ancestral occupation of ours," Kass had informed her when she finally found the courage to ask the favour. "Though there is little need for it now that Hyrule is as sparse as it is."
Their lessons done for the day, Zelda stowed her harp safely back at Kass's hut and made her way to Revali's Landing. It helped, going there. Behind Rowan's mask, Zelda had begun to fade. She was torn now, between the necessity of being Rowan and the comfort being herself. But the memories of her childhood visits to Rito Village, and the afternoons spent at Revali's Landing helped her find grounding - a medium between past and present, between alive and dead.
Zelda stood near the edge of the platform and assumed an archer's stance - or at least, what she remembered to be an archer's stance. She raised her arms, grasping an imaginary bow, pulling back the string, and took a breath.
"Straighten your back. It'll help keep your aim consistent."
Zelda slapped her arms down to her sides at the sound of the gruff voice behind her, feeling her face tingle from embarrassment. "An old friend once tried to teach me," she said as she turned to see Teba stepping out onto the Landing. "With little success."
Teba raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know the dead could teach."
"He wasn't dead at the time."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Neither were you."
"Did you just come to argue or…?"
"No, actually," Teba said as met her at the Landing's edge. He stared long and hard at the horizon, squinting and scowling, as if offended by what he saw. There was a new bow at his back, Zelda noticed. It was smaller, strangely, and was painted white and gold. "I suppose you're waiting for an apology," he said.
"I'm not waiting for anything from you."
Teba chuckled, the sound still awkward, like a muscle untested or a song only half-known. And there was fondness underneath, so unexpected that it startled her. "I deserved that." He folded his arms over his chest and sighed. "And I am sorry if that matters to you. No old warrior likes being shown he's lost his edge, but I should have listened. You're just trying to help."
He uncrossed his arms and reached for his bow, muttering under his breath, but still, she heard: "For some reason."
"You said you were Link's friend," Zelda ventured, quietly admiring the bow. She placed a hand on the crossbow at her hip, having been unable to part with it since the fight with the wolves. "Well, I was too. And I'm just trying to do what he would have done."
"I don't think that kid would have sassed me quite the way you have, but I get what you're saying." Teba raised the bow and pulled the string back to his chin.
"New bow?"
"Not quite." He gently released the tension in the string, and made a small adjustment to one of the gears. "It's a training bow. For fledgelings."
"I suppose you'll have to make do, what with your other bow broken."
Teba laughed again, and Zelda wondered if she would ever get used to the sound. He held out the bow to her. "You really think I'd take a fledgeling bow? It's yours, Rowan."
"W-what!?" she stammered, but Teba was pressed the bow into her hands.
Teba continued as Zelda examined the weapon, her fingers running over the painted wood. "Found it in Harth's workshop. He calls them Sparrow bows. They fire quick, have a light draw weight. And I remembered that nickname Kass has for you and I couldn't resist. Consider it my apology proper."
"But I've-" Zelda tried to protest, unsure how to process the act of kindness. "I've already got a bow."
"A slow, poorly-made crossbow." Teba reached down to unclip the crossbow from her belt. He flipped it over, brows knotted. "But you have no bolts, and you rightly want to avoid using your magic. I can teach you to use a real bow instead."
His change of heart still bewildered her, and Zelda cautioned herself not to accept kindness so readily. It could be a trap. It could always be a trap. "I don't understand," she blurted. "You're going to teach me? But-"
"Listen, Rowan. Something is going on with my people. Maybe it's connected to your Cinglen or Cinnel-whatever, but I've got a lead I intend to follow. And you were right, Hebra is dangerous." He handed back the crossbow, though Zelda was reluctant to take it. She slung the Sparrow bow over her shoulder, freeing her hands to receive the crossbow once more before reattaching it to her belt. "I need someone who knows what's going on beyond Lake Totori. And you've got a good eye. Hone that aim a little, and you'll have no trouble defending yourself."
"But what of Vah Medoh? Do you know what state it's in?" Zelda pressed, ignoring the urge to correct Teba with the fact that she already could well defend herself. Link saw to that, she recalled sadly.
"I'll be honest I've been too afraid to check. But I've seen no movements from it, and as far as I know, it's been left alone since the attack on Ganon."
Safe for now then, Zelda thought. "And this lead?"
Teba rolled his shoulders as he began to speak, as though explaining himself were a chore. "Some of the Rito are disappearing, for a few hours or days at a time. I think it's suspicious, but no one believes me besides Kass, and he already helps as best he can. The Rito like their isolation, their freedom, Rowan. They like not thinking about things. Even Kaneli dismissed my concerns."
The old owl, Zelda recalled. Elder Kaneli was the leader of Rito Village; Kass had introduced her a few days prior. At the time, Kaneli had shared information with Kass that she had been able to overhear. We have heard troubling news, Kass, the old owl had said. Reports of fighting in Lanayru, of Zoran soldiers marching towards Gerudo.
She shook the troubling news from her mind and refocused her attention on Teba, who was continuing his explanation. "One of the guys that went missing - Rylen - I heard him talking to Toten about a Rito named Yahn, saying that he was travelling through Hebra and that they never knew where to meet him. Yahn is the next link in the chain, I'm sure of it. If the Rito are going to the Castle like you say, then this is how we find out."
"Travelling through Hebra?" Zelda's eyes went wide. "Hebra is enormous!"
"I know. But I also know Yahn. And I think I'd know where he'd go."
"An old friend, then?"
Teba did not answer. He looked down at his feet and folded his wings across his chest again. Zelda could tell that question brought him pain.
"Yahn was my apprentice," he admitted with a frown. "Many years ago."
"But Kass said you never had an apprentice…."
"Kass weaves his tales," Teba warned. "He omits the bad parts. Keep that in mind when you sing his songs."
Zelda clutched her hands to her chest as she processed the information. Disappearances, suspicious conversations, people in denial of the problem; it was uncomfortable in its familiarity. On the horizon, she caught sight of Hyrule Castle and its ruined towers. An expedition into Hebra, she thought, determination stirring in her chest, accompanied by a sensation that was now foreign, forgotten almost; with a small smile, Zelda realised that it was excitement.
Beside her Teba was shifting from foot to foot, talons clicking on the wood. "I'll understand if you say no."
But Zelda had already decided. She had seen Rito at Hyrule Castle, and she had heard Cinelgen's plans. If he were trying to sow discord at Lake Totori, then she would find out, and she would put a stop to it. This is my kingdom, she thought as she gazed at Hyrule Castle. And I will take it back.
In acceptance of his offer, Zelda extended a hand to Teba, adding, "You aren't the travelling partner I would have chosen."
Teba huffed, a sardonic smile crossing his features. "Oh yeah? Well, I'd not have chosen you either, Sparrow," And with a firm grip he shook her hand.
Three short. Three long. Three short. Three long. Link scribbled down the pattern into his notebook.
… - - - … - - -
The Guardian blinked the pattern at Link again. It had not stopped since he entered the Gatehouse with Inglis and Aurelia.
Despite his initial success, progress with the Guardian had hit a standstill. Nothing he could say or do seemed to get through to it. It allowed him to approach, to place a hand on its outer shell, but if Link tried anything else it either refused to cooperate, or would panic and lash out. During one session, Link had spent the entire time trying to get the Guardian to follow him around the room, to no success. In another, he had approached it slightly too quickly, and now nursed a fearsome black and red bruise on his arm from where its powerful leg had struck him.
But he was certain now that the Guardian was trying to communicate. His problem was that he knew absolutely nothing about the Guardians beyond their capabilities as fighters, and the only two people who might were entirely out of Link's reach. Robbie and his son had been thrown in the Lockup, and Cinelgen outright refused to let Link visit them. And Zelda - well Link couldn't be entirely sure where she was, though he sensed somehow that she was safe.
Link looked back at the Guardian. "I'm sorry," he frowned. "I just don't know what to do."
The Guardian was unaffected; its blinking continued. Inglis was stood at Link's side, gazing in awe up at the flickering of the Guardian's eye.
"You think it means something?" he asked.
"I wish I knew," Link sighed dejectedly. Above them Cinelgen watched from the parapets, his mouth smiling but his eyes repeating the threat; you fail, and you die.
I need to talk to Robbie, Link determined. That is my only chance.
Link looked down at his notebook and began to flip through the pages.
At long last, on the day of their departure, the Sheikah Slate flickered back to life. Zelda hugged it to her chest, embracing it as though it were an old friend. Collecting herself, she hurriedly pulled Link's snowquill gear from the inventory and pulled on the downy material as Teba organised their packs by the Flight Range fire. They would travel on foot, the Hebra wilderness being too mountainous for a horse to be of any use. Kass had seen them off from the village; he had decided that if Zelda was beginning her travels again, he ought to do the same. The bard encouraged her to practice with her harp if she could, and promised to do his best to deliver the letters.
Zelda hummed the song he had taught her as she did one final check over her things. She had been practising it, learning its character, as Kass had instructed, but no matter how many times she played it or how hard she reflected, she could not remember where she had heard it.
Everything was in place. The Sheikah Slate was latched at her hip, hidden under a red and white Rito sash. The golden harp was stored in its case, tucked safely into her pack. The crossbow had been left in Teba's chest, no longer of much use, replaced by the Sparrow bow that she wore on her back. And the Master Sword...
Zelda held the lid of the chest open, taking one last look at Link's sword. She reached down to run a thumb over the patterned hilt, idly humming the song again, and from the Sword, she felt a radiating warmth.
She snapped her hand away. How could it be warm, stored here in half-frozen Hebra? Cautiously, Zelda wrapped her hand around the hilt, feeling a strange tension in her arm, as if the Sword were resisting her.
The warmth had receded, but then so had her confusion. "The song!" she gasped. Zelda began to sing the ancient song again, clear and crisp as she could, and as if on cue the Sword warmed in her grip.
"The hell are you doing?"
Teba's voice snapped her out of her trance.
"Nothing, nothing," Zelda assured him, hurriedly shutting the chest. "Just checking the lock. I am ready to go when you are."
"Good. We need to get moving. I want to make it to the South Summit by nightfall."
Zelda pushed the ancient song from her mind. She fetched her pack, pulled her warm new gloves down at the wrists, and followed Teba out into the Hebra wilderness.
The last light of the evening had receded, draping his bedchamber in shadow. Link lit a lamp and returned to waiting patiently for the telltale sound of footsteps outside his door signalling Inglis's suppertime approach. He shivered. The cold had infiltrated every part of the Castle; every room and every nook, embedding itself under Link's skin, in the backs of his eyes, in his very blood. It did not help that Link still had no proper winter garb. He had managed to steal a hooded vest from the side of a Hylian who had fallen asleep at supper and had convinced Inglis to find him a pair of gloves at least, but other than that he had to suffer through the cold in little more than his trousers and cotton shirt.
Link held his notebook in hand and ran through the plan again. It was a gamble. It was a guess, based on a single look and a faint memory of hearing bickering between Inglis and Milagre. When Link had realised that it reminded him of his fights with Zelda, he knew he had to be right; if love sounded like anything, it was an argument. In his notebook was written the only proof, an observation he had written the evening prior; Milagre and Inglis don't sit together, but they want to.
It had only occurred to Link recently that Cinelgen might plan on going through his notebook; to seek out traitorous musings or eek some information out of him. He began to keep his notes vague. Few names, just descriptors, no dates or times either. The Gerudo could not punish him for taking notes. And if he thought that Link would not be constantly scheming for a way to escape the Castle, then he was as foolish as he was cruel.
At last, the footsteps approached, and Link leapt to his feet. There were low voices outside; his guards conversing with the visitor and giving the approval to enter. It was as Link expected. The door opened, and Inglis entered, ready to escort Link yet again to 'family dinner'.
Link caught the Hylian by the arm, fingers just tight enough to make the threat clear - a trick he had learned from Cinelgen the night before. "I've something to show you before we go," he said.
For a moment Link thought Inglis might refuse. But he just he sighed, as if having been expecting this, and said: "What is it?"
Link led Inglis over to his tiny window that overlooked Western Hyrule. He peered at the silhouette of Vah Medoh, only just visible through the snow.
"You're going to help me speak with Robbie," Link said, unphased when Inglis returned his demand with dumbfounded silence. Good, thought Link. Better that than he runs straight to the guards. He explained himself further, "Cinelgen has put the Sheikah in the cells, and won't let me visit. Perhaps he's stubborn, or just doesn't understand, but Robbie knows about Guardians. He is valuable."
Inglis shook his head. "Cinna understands. He likes testing people."
He wants to see if I fail, Link noted. And I will without Robbie. "You are Cinelgen's friend. The guards listen to you. I need you to-"
Inglis began to back away from the window. "I won't go behind Cinna's back-"
"I don't want to threaten you, Inglis," Link said gravely. He couldn't afford for Inglis to panic. It would draw the attention of the guards.
"Oh, really?" Inglis's face suddenly twisted, his hands balling into fists. "Well, I can handle another bruise."
He misunderstands. "That isn't what I meant," Link reached out to place a pacifying hand on Inglis's shoulder.
"Is that all you knights do?" Inglis snapped, springing away from Link."Hurt people?"
His face had gone red, and he was shaking, knuckles white. Link had hit a nerve, somehow, tapping into some pain that he had not anticipated was there. He took a deep breath, the words reluctant, but necessary; "I need you to help me. I know about you and Milagre, and I know you're trying to hide-"
The rest was crushed under the force of Inglis' fist as it connected with Link's jaw, and he was blinded, crumbling to the floor, so stunned that he almost giggled. Link opened his eyes and saw the ceiling.
"Is that a yes?" he asked, still dazed.
Inglis glared at him, suddenly calm. He sighed; a long, drawn out breath, and Link wondered what on earth had caused the boy so much pain. "It is." Inglis frowned. "I'll help you." And he turned to leave.
"What's going on in there?" one of the Link's guards asked as Inglis passed.
"Nothing," Inglis told them. "This one has just decided that he doesn't want supper."
As Link lay on the ground, pain blossoming in his right cheek, he could not help but smile. The gamble had paid off.
You see, Cinna? Violence doesn't always work, Link imagined himself saying. But the victory subsided, and his pride had begun to fade into a deep shame at manipulating Inglis with his schemes. Violence is easy, Link would tell Cinelgen when he saw him next. Words can do so much worse.
In quiet moments, they pause, and wonder: how did I get here?
The Princess feels the crunch of snow under her feet and calls out again to the Rito warrior walking ahead of her. How much further, she wants to ask, but is afraid of the answer. Instead, she asks, are you okay? The Rito looks back and smiles, and the Princess feels a small thread of trust between them. Don't worry about me, Sparrow, the Rito answers.
The Knight stands at the door of the Gatehouse, writing down observations and thoughts. Can it speak? He asks himself, as he looks upon the automaton. Does it have a name? The Knight decides it should. So he chooses one that reminds him of the Kingdom he and the Guardian once belonged to and names it after the man who called for the automaton's unearthing. I'll call him Rhoamet, the Knight scribbles in his journal.
By sunlight they don't think about each other much, their minds preoccupied with their newfound facades and the deliberateness with which they now live. But once the starlight gradually emerges, their thoughts travel halfway across the country, leaping over mountains and ravines to places imagined and once known. The Princess runs her hands through her curtailed hair, and tests the draw weight of her Sparrow bow, shivering against the Hebra air; the Knight sits silently at 'family dinner', and plans his next session with the Guardian, his fingers padding the bruise on his chin.
In these quiet moments, when they are their true selves and not the personas they have become to survive, the Princess and Knight think of each other.
I wonder how he is. I wonder how she's doing.
I wonder what they would say, if they could only see me now.
A/N: I feel I cannot apologise enough for the delay on this chapter! I should be sticking to at least weekly updates from now on. To the guest review who couldn't see Chapter 8, you may need to clear your cache? I have no idea, but that's what sometimes works for me.