It's pathetic, really.
She is, after all, a Princess of Hyrule. The vessel for the Goddess' power. She's withstand one hundred years against an evil so raw, most could not even begin to imagine it.
...She's clinging to chit chat with this stranger as if he is the last piece of flotsam after a wreck.
No, they aren't lost, merely resting, she answers with a smile. No, they haven't been long on the road, a couple of days, only. Yes, they are well stocked with provisions. What about him, where is he from and where does he go to? A merchant, then. To Kara-Kara.
Sounds and pleasantries leave her lips automatically, without much effort or thought, much like in olden days of dignitaries and stiff visitations. Within, her mind still reels. Without, only the faint colouration on her cheeks remains as a sign that anything is amiss. She smiles mechanically and reins her thoughts in. As she must. And yet, the phantom drumming of a heartbeat lingers on her fingertips.
The man rambles on, clearly relieved they aren't in danger, flattered by the interest. She dares a look in her companion's direction. His contributions are sporadic, if much more to the point. He drones of monster camps to avoid and the best routes to take, in short, occasional bursts, an expression so inscrutable, and a tone so flat even Hylia could not devise his thoughts.
"That's a beauty you got there," the man says, reaching to pat the horse. That perks her knight's ears, and he smiles proudly, in that way she knows he reserves only for his favourite mounts. Zelda sighs, knowing she might be here a while. There's comfort, at least, in how predictable his reaction is. Slowly, Link's tongue begins to unknot and soon enough he's drawn into a spirited retelling of how he tamed her. By the time the traveller departs – after a thorough exchange of all the best places and tactics to catch a wild horse and several recommendations regarding their safety – Zelda has almost regained her bearings.
Not so much at ease that she knows what to say, she occupies herself picking an apple for his horse from a nearby tree. He eyes it, and her, suspiciously, as if apprehensive her offering might offend the mare. It doesn't. It's gone in two bites.
"You know, I did learn from your advice," she tells him, nettled.
"About soothing your mount?"
"That, and if you can't soothe it, feed it," she replies. He rolls his eyes, the beginning of a smile hidden under his hair. But the horse has his concern and he's whispering soft reassurances against her mane.
"I'm worried about her," he addresses the saddlebag, and she can't for the life of her tell what she might have done to the horse that he won't look at her, "she took a few tumbles yesterday and she's been carrying us since."
"She was very brave," she agrees, still lost.
"I'd like to stop at the stable," he says and from the way it runs together, she can tell this is what was bothering him. "Give her a chance to recover."
"I don't see why not," she says, trying to guess what's getting at him, "Much as I want to see Impa, it can wait another day."
"It's by Blatchery Plain," he finally blurts out. Blue eyes find her, conflicted.
"Oh," she chews her lip. It keeps her mouth from saying what her mind is screaming. That she would happily obliterate that place from the face of Hyrule before ever setting foot there again. Because she can't. She won't.
"How often have you stayed there?" she hears herself asking instead.
"None, since I remembered," he admits quietly, "but there's nice people there. Not too nosy. Good with horses."
"Unlike myself," she answers, filling the air with words to stall for time.
"You were never really bad, though," he says, more heartfelt than she meant it, "you just didn't get them, that's all. Once you tried, it came easy to you."
"Thanks," she says, not sure how to respond. That's the thing about conversations with Link. Every so often, the thing they're saying turns out not to be the thing they mean, but she's already in the middle before she realizes it. A terrible habit, but in fairness, one she's pretty sure he's gotten from her.
"We can camp," he rushes to offer, "We've already got delayed with – with – the detour to Gerudo," her heart skips and she could swear he looks a little bashful, "Not as nice for her as the stable, but she'd still get some rest."
He's still tenderly stroking the horses head, a world of concern in his eyes. She closes hers and for a moment she's there, then, and he's in her arms, but his head rolls back and he can't see her anymore. She's stolen his light to find hers and she doesn't want it, not without him, Hylia please...please…
"Princess?" His voice grounds her, brings her back and now his concern is on her too.
"I'm sorry – I -" He asks for so little. A chance to heal his horse. To do right by his companion, when he's already lost so many. And yet here she stands, making him waver. Compromising on a modest request.
She pats the mount too. "Brave girl," she projects, trying to ease it. She could feel its terror, the day before. And yet it stayed, trusting that her rider would not bring her to harm, "You've done him proud."
"I can't go through life, avoiding my own memories," she tells him, hoping to sound more confident than she feels. The horse nuzzles against her hand, content, pulling a look of surprise from him he doesn't quite manage to hide.
"Are you sure?" he asks, eyeing her, uncertain if he should take her at her word. She nods. She's not sure. She isn't even remotely sure, but she knows she needs to try.
"And I'm no princess, remember?" she adds, hoping to change the subject as she begins to walk, a tacit agreement to spare their mount, "just your travel companion."
"Right" he says, and there's something in his eye she doesn't think she can trust, "but did you just use your entirely unrelated to the Royal lineage sealing power on my horse?"
"Perhaps a little," she concedes, "only enough to let her know she's being cared for."
"She knows that," he grumbles before returning to silence and the corners of her mouth twitch. She always did find it endearing how defensive he could get over his horses.
"Earlier," he says suddenly, eyes determinedly ahead of him when she looks over her shoulder, "you said you'd never done that before? When you were using your power," that calculated tone again and her heart races, but if in fear or anticipation she cannot tell.
"That's right," she says, cautiously.
He nods. "And it made you lose control?"
"I-yes," she braces herself, for whatever point he's trying to make, fearful of how deep he'll want to dig into her actions. She doesn't know how to have this conversation. She doesn't know that she should have this conversation. It was easier, before, when she could dress up her feelings in admiration and partnership in fate. She knows her heart too well these days for convincing deniability, yet she has no wish to distress him by baring it.
But her anxious contemplations are met with silence. Zelda chances a look at her knight, only to find that the sparse exchange has left him with something much like a grin lodged at the side of his mouth. And while his head is lowered, and his hair hides his eyes, a restrained sort of contentment has spread over his face.
It's still there, when Zelda's jumbled mind inevitably concludes that seeing her fumble like a novice after the previous day's display must have been as surprising to him as it was amusing.
"We can't all be prodigies, you know, great at all of our pursuits on the first attempt," she huffs.
"Wouldn't say I was great at it," he says, the grin only spreading wider, "at least not the first time."
She shakes her head and lets it lie, unwilling to chase what he's finding so amusing. Getting into an argument regarding his almost supernatural abilities seems entirely too silly even to her.
The afternoon is high, blue skies reflected on the rustling creek. Colourful banners come into view slowly, the further they walk from beneath the shadow of the Peaks.
"That would be hard to miss," she says, when the shifting colours have finally coalesced into a knitted horse's head, "but then I suppose that is the point."
"Yeah," he says, "makes them easier to spot from a distance. Handy, if you're lost or don't know the area."
But she hardly hears him. A blue shimmering has caught her eye and she's rooted in place. Perhaps, after all these years and everything that transpired, it shouldn't have this type of hold on her. But for a moment, she's that same girl of one hundred years ago, brimming with curiosity and eager to know.
The lights are new. Of course, Link has already been inside – that one and so many more. But all that does is tell her that the shrines are accessible now. Her mind faintly registers the mess of thorns surrounding it, but dismisses them quickly. If he managed in, then so can she. There's so much that she can study – by what means did they rise from the grounds and what mechanics they conceal – of course, she'd have to -
It's his hand on her wrist that stops her thoughts in their track and her feet from waddling into water.
"You did see the giant spikes, right?" he asks, eyebrow raised.
"Of course," she says, composing herself. His eyebrow raises further. Composure is short lived.
"How did you get through them?" she blurts out. He blinks and his mouth moves as if he'll say something, but stops himself and grins. Oh, but he's enjoying this too much.
"I'll show you in the morning," he says and begins towards the stable, "Let's call it a surprise."
"I don't like surprises," she tries not sulk.
"You'll like this one," he says, without looking back.
"I'd like it better now," she tries. But he only shakes his head without slowing and she's forced to hurry after him.
The stable itself is a cosy round thing, wrapped in wood and warm colours. It seems busy enough – strangers gather around the tables inside, chat by the soft looking beds. Her stomach sinks and she hesitates by the entrance, doubtful of how to be before so many. Something warm on her arm. A reassuring squeeze and she breathes. He's barely had the opportunity to let go before…
"Ho! Look who's finally shown up."
There's a man behind the counter, gruff but not unfriendly looking. He doesn't smile, not quite, but his eyes seem softer than his face would suggest.
"You've been gone a while. With all the weirdness going on...well. I've been telling folks sometimes it's like that. People just come and go and one day they don't come back," he let's it linger and she shivers at the normalcy of his tone. But then his nose crinkles, his eyes turn to her and Link in turn, and the heaviness seems to lift from him, "Turns out all you did was get yourself a girl. Sometimes it's like that too."
"She's a friend," Link shrugs. She watches her shoes as her heart constricts.
"Sure," the man says, "that's usually how it starts. Good to see a new face, in any case. What's your name?"
She musters up her courage, "I'm Zelda," she says.
"Zelda, uh? Been ages since I heard of anyone named after the Princess. Was common when my grandma was young – she lived through the Calamity, you know? Said people though it would curry favour with the Goddess," he shrugs, apparently finding the custom as nonsensical as she always has. "Your parents must be the fancy type, if they're still doing that."
"...A little, I suppose," she mutters, resolutely ignoring the audible snort from her companion.
"Well, Princess," the man says, "what do you think of that mess in Hyrule Castle?"
"Hyrule Castle?" she repeats, thrown by the epithet. But the stablekeep isn't taking it.
"You can't have missed it!" he shouts, leaning over the counter, "The sky grew red, like twilight at midday. Stayed like that for hours. And then...light. Like the sun was rising from the ground. And when it was done," he leans over the counter further, his voice low, "that Goddess-forsaken murk that's been covering the Castle was just gone."
"Yeah, we saw it," Link mercifully spares her the need to reply, "the place's still dangerous, Tasseren, in case anyone starts thinking to go poking around."
The man eyes Link, the question burning at the tip of his tongue, but with a shrug, he seems to swallow it.
"Bed?" he says instead.
"Beds. Soft," Link hesitates, "my horse, she needs -"
"Again?" the man interrupts, "Just take her to the kids. You don't deserve her," he sighs.
"I really don't," Link agrees, dejected. And then he's dragging her by the wrist, as she waves a feeble goodbye, the danger of her former home seemingly forgotten.
Outside reveals an exited pair of twins, milling about the horse. They jump happily when they see Link, pelting him with questions as relentlessly as an oktorok's attack – where did he go, did he tame any horses, how did his mount get hurt, what took him so long?
"Who are are you?" one of them asks with a squint when he notices her, before introducing himself and his brother.
"Oooh," they say, much to her puzzlement when she tells them her name. Link scowls, shushing the boys and she's left to frown in confusion. They giggle and then she's the object of their curiosity.
"Do you ride?" Yes, she answers, she does ride. Although she's rusty.
"How long has it been?" To this she settles on "a long time" as a close enough truth.
"Don't you have a horse?"
"Not anymore."
"What happened to it?"
She doesn't know, she realizes. She had left it at the stables the previous evening. She doesn't know, she will never know and all she can do is hope it died quickly, in the first moments of the attack, rather than afraid and surrounded by malice like her friends. Link shoots her a look, as he hands the reins to one of the boys. She avoids his eyes.
"It was very old," she lies.
"You have such a pretty mane," Shibo, or perhaps Dalton, blurts "it really looks like -" but his brother pinches his arm and she's left to mutter an awkward thank you as they resume a barrage of questions and arguments on the benefits of choosing either a spotted or solid colour mount.
"She has a horse," Link says out of nowhere.
"I knew it!" Dalton, or perhaps Shibo, shouts.
She looks towards his voice, confused, and for a moment she's certain that her eyes deceive her or her mind has left her. Her knight is walking towards her and the mount he's leading is impossible. It survived she almost cries, before her sense takes over to remind her of the century in between.
She pinches her hand, because the image in front of her makes no sense and yet... the golden mane and pure white coat, the proud muzzle that's so familiar. The livery -
"I don't understand," is what comes out.
"Met a guy," Link says, grinning from ear to ear, "Said his grandpa saw your horse on Safula Hill, you know...after, and that people were spotting one just like him again. I went to look and, well, there he was. Got the gear from him too, his grandpa kept it."
"Here," he says, handing her the reins, "it's yours."
"But, you caught it," she says, disbelief in the mount before her giving way to astonishment that Link would part with one of his.
"Yeah, for you," he shrugs, as if all of this is nothing.
"It's-" Zelda shakes her head, utterly at a loss. Link beams. In the end, she takes the reigns with shaky hands and a whispered thank you, more heartfelt than she can find the words for.
"Hello," she says, extending her hand. It lets out a sneering kind of snort and she remembers her mount much preferred it when she approached him with full hands. Her ever prepared knight slips a carrot into her palm. She offers her borrowed tribute and breathes a sigh of relief when it's accepted.
"Are you gonna ride it?" Shibo interrupts, excited.
"Go on," Link says, nodding towards the horse. She hesitates.
"It's been ages since I rode," she tells them.
"Once you know how to, you don't really forget," Link winks. "Trust me."
Zelda bites her lip, staring at the steed like a child might eye some candy. Decided, she raises her foot to the stirrup and in one graceful motion she's on the saddle. The horse stares back, as if offended at her sudden presence, but with a resigned sigh it acquiesces.
"Just like grandpa," he says, amusement in his voice.
Nervous, she reaches for the horse with her mind, just a little, projecting all the affection she's feeling in the moment as she pats his neck. The horse leans lightly into her touch.
"That's still cheating," Link grumbles.
She hides a chuckle, poorly, and gently tugs the reins. It obeys almost immediately. They fall easily into a trot, her limbs recalling details quicker than her mind provides and giving credence to her knight's advice.
Delighted, Zelda waves at her small but encouraging audience, before leaning forwards and urging it into a canter. Her mount responds as smoothly as her old dear one – smoother, perhaps, a touch of stubbornness ironed out – and with her confidence restored, she pushes for a gallop.
Being on a horse and commanding a horse are nothing alike and she finds the return to riding exhilarating. Her hair whips around her, the breeze is now a blast that stings her eyes, but there's a freedom and joy in it that arrive both as forgotten and a complete surprise.
She flies, jumping over logs and rocks and puddles as easily as she did before, steering where the mood strikes her, hardly aware of where she's heading. Lost, in the green below and around her, as canopies smudge into one another and little dotted flowers go by as soon as she spots them. Her surroundings blur and she blinks, shaking away the wind induced tears that smear her eyes.
She opens them to metal. Stained. Twisted.
Her ears ring. Nausea rises. A grey eye locks on her. She raises her hand, yanks the reins with the other, desperate for the mount to turn, run, run while it can, but it panics and rears. Her light fails her and she's falling and it's too late.
Red's found her. Myriad little dots speckle their skin, too many even for him to fight. It spreads, viscous, soaking his tunic and staining her hands, until it encloses her, chokes her, burns away what remains of her light. A shroud of malice, weaved from her own failures, that's seared onto her skin and she can't peel off, no matter how hard she claws.
Faintly, his voice reaches her. Distressed, calling for her. A Beast's laughter roars in her ears. Lungs sting. Heart thunders in her chest. It has found him. Goddess, please! The Beast has found him where he sleeps and she must save him, she must, but her body won't move –
"Zelda!"
The shout, in such close proximity, cuts the reverie short, startling her into reality. Eyes flutter, refocusing. Link stands between her and the machine, lifting her by shoulders, fear carved onto his face.
"The horse!" she recalls suddenly, "it was my fault, I -" she makes to get up, but forgets her sentence when cliffs undulate around her. He steadies her with one arm and she reaches for his hand, silently praying he's solid and not another mind trick from the Beast.
"I'm here," he says softly, his hold on her tight.
"You're here," she whispers when she feels him, breaths still coming in ragged but cut with relief.
"What happened?" he asks, gently tucking back the hair that covers her face. "You're glowing," he's staring, anxious, expecting an answer that she knows is due. But her tongue turns to sand at the mere thought of it. Her light fades.
His eyes roam over cliffs, uneasy, when it's clear she won't be forthcoming. The timid shake of her head does nothing to assuage him. He pulls her into a step, and when she doesn't stagger they begin, his own short but hurried, hand firmly closed around hers. They're halfway to the stable when she realizes he's refusing to look behind him.
Reflexively, she looks back. His hand shoots to her chin, drawing it forward. "Don't," he warns. Tension on his wrist, his grip like stone, despite how light it feels.
Ahead, the horse neighs on the patch of grass it settled on. She accepts the reproach.
"You're shivering," he says, flat, worry still there, when he sits her by the fire. She stares at her hand, cold now that he's let go of it, gives him a small shrug.
"What are you making?" she asks. Disbelief shadows his face. The twine and herbs he holds are set aside.
"You didn't pass out because you fell. You fell because you passed out. I was watching," ashamed, Zelda studies the ground.
"Was it the guardian? You tried to defend yourself," he insists, his restraint thinning. "Why would you even go there?"
"I lost track of where I was going," she admits at last. "When I saw it, thought I was back there, with the Beast" she says, refusing to look at him, "I couldn't breathe -I…" the desert's on her throat again. Her hands shake and she holds them on her lap for lack of knowing what to do with them.
"I'm making tea," his tone is gentle and free of judgement when he speaks, "blue nightshade will settle the shivering and hyrule herb will help you recover. The honey just tastes nice."
Silence descends. He busies himself, bunching the herbs and boiling water, poking the fire as if it will make it go any faster. Giving her space. Zelda watches the bubbles rise and burst around the plants, avoids the glances he steals her way. Questions bubbling there too, that she's too reluctant to address. He faced death itself, when she only endured a Beast, and yet here she is, falling to pieces. How weak he must find her.
Regardless, troubled as he evidently is, his gestures speak of kindness when he hands her the drink and a warning that it's hot. She sips, hoping it will wash away the aftertaste the experience left on her. He pokes at the dirt with his stick. She's halfway through her tea when he finally spills over.
"You were there for a hundred years," he tells the fire.
"I was," she confirms.
"And you were...aware, the whole time?"
"Yes," she says. The look he gives her is so pitiful, she only wishes to disappear under her log.
"While I slept," he mutters, disgust barely restrained.
"You were dead, Link," she corrects, "I hardly think I got the worst bargain."
"You should," the stick breaks in his hand. "Death doesn't feel like anything," a beat and whatever is on her face drains him of ire. A hand goes over his eyes, fingertips tap at what remains of the branch.
"It hurt. Dying. You know the state I was in. And I felt so... so…" that wretched look on his face and the sentence withers to nothing, "I'm not saying it was easy since I woke up. But that century just isn't there. I know time passed, but I didn't feel it."
"You had to live through all of it. And you haven't said a word about it."
"It wasn't...as linear as that. And neither have you," she points, but it only seems to frustrate him further.
"I just did! I died, you fixed it. Nothing happened in between," he says, sullen, and she hates every word of it. The way he he keeps saying it, as if she's not the one that put him there.
"It was the shrine, Link," she argues, "We got you there in time, thank Hylia."
"Hylia was late," he spits, final. "She's not the one that kept me breathing."
"You're bottling things up again," he says and it comes out more despondent than the accusation it probably should be, "and I don't want to fight."
"I'm not. It's just – It was…" a million needles prick her skin. Smoke, acid and rancid, rots her insides. She breathes, focuses on the feel of wood against her nails, the warm mug in her hand, lets it centre her.
"I can't," she finally admits, "I'm sorry. If I think about it, it all comes back and I – I don't want to go back again," she tries to fake a smile but it comes out like a grimace. "Maybe with time," she tries.
"Just...make sure you talk, to someone. When you can. It doesn't have to be me," he sighs. She turns, to see so much sadness so plain on his face and one of those stares that seem to cut through her soul.
A shadow falls on him and she looks up to see a girl, all surprise at the sight of him and the beginning of smile forming on her face.
"So you didn't get eaten by a Hynox," she says, just behind him. Link's face shifts. Blank comes like second nature, before setting it to a pleasant smile, perfectly concealing the miserable conversation they were having.
"Nah," he says, "but I can trade you some toenails, if you're interested."
"You have Hynox toenails?" Zelda, says, unable to stop herself. Link stares, surprised. The smile settles into something more genuine.
"That's Zelda," he says to his friend, "She likes experimenting with elixirs. Often on me."
"I'd never give you anything I thought was unsafe," she huffs.
"Oh? Do tell," the girl's attention is caught.
Her name, it turns out is Sagessa and Zelda takes a liking to her almost instantly. Her elixirs are admittedly conventional, but the young woman has perfected her craft. She shows the princess some of those she created, and she cannot but admire how clear and potent they all are.
With no elixirs to currently show, Zelda shares some of her own past endeavours – how her aim had been to isolate active ingredients, and understand how much of the potency was provided by monster parts. And, ideally, find suitable replacements should the monster population eventually be culled.
The girl is understandably dubious of the possibility, "although at the rate Link gets parts, he's certainly trying," she says, "It's pointless, though. The blood moon always brings them back."
"I do wonder what all that commotion was yesterday," she wonders, after a lull that only seems to have brought them both out of the fire and into the frying pan.
"Shooting star," Link recovers first, "huge, the size of a Lynel."
The girl laughs, proposes an exploding shrine, and they are happy to spend their time on increasingly ridiculous possibilities that never once mention the Calamity. By the time Sagessa goes inside, Zelda's shivering has fully subsided and most of their good humour has returned. Link still refills her mug, as a precaution.
She's watching the pale outline of the moon against the orange sky when faint melodic notes reach her. Link jumps, his ears perk, and when whatever has drawn his attention seems to be confirmed, his whole face is glowing.
"It's Kass! You have to meet him!"
He dashes, tugging her hand. She struggles after him, still trying to pinpoint the name, when he skids to a halt in front a large Rito. Zelda slides too, breaking to avoid impact, surprised, yet delighted, to see Link's excitement at the colourful figure.
"Why, hello!" the Rito is saying, "I was hoping we'd meet again," she hears as she regains her balance, still smiling at the singular scene. But the Rito's eyes land on her and his sentence is cut short. His beak goes slack. Wings drop, he grips his instrument tightly and sheer amazement blankets his face.
"...The hero, the princess – hand in hand..." he mutters, as if from a long lost verse.
Zelda freezes at the words, breathless when Kass curves into a deep bow. "Your Highness," he whispers, reverent, "It is an honour." Panicked, her eyes dart from Link to the musician, unable to react.
"It's ok, he knows who I am," Link says, soothing, nudging them away from the stable and under a tree. She follows his guidance mechanically, as awestruck at the Rito's reaction as he seems to be at the sight of her.
"Then it's certain?" asks the Rito, wonder still evident, "Yesterday, in the field? It has been defeated for good?"
Link scratches his head. "Yeah. We did it," he says, his head swaying between the two of them. For the first time, Zelda hears a hint of pride in his voice when speaking of the previous day's events. It somehow pacifies her fears – if her knight trusts this Rito with the truth, then she will trust his instincts.
Seeing the change in her, Link takes a breath, as if about to make an introduction of some portent.
"Kass, I'd like you to finally meet Princess Zelda," and then to her, "This is Kass. He helped me from the start. He's been a guide. A friend."
Sometimes, just sometimes, the things Link doesn't say still manage to be loud. There's a story there, he's not fully saying. But for now, it's the emotion underlying the way he says "friend" that tells her just how deeply he's come to care for the Rito.
"Then I am in your debt," Zelda says with a short bow of her own, "and honoured to meet you."
"I have long hoped this day would come to pass," Kass smiles,"forgive me if I startled you, you look exactly as my teacher described."
"Your Court Poet!" Link babbles, bouncing on his heels, "You know, the one that fancied you."
She blinks, caught off guard by the unexpected mention. It's not that she's forgotten him. He's been etched into her memories for the past one hundred years, a bookend to that terrible night. Rather, it's the light-handed way in which Link remembers him – the object of an old argument on the poet's source of muse.
Truly, she has no idea how aware Link is of the role the Poet played that night. Yet, Link smiles and Kass thinks of him warmly and so she chooses to answer her knight's gloating tone instead.
"Link, he didn't fancy me," she sighs, much like every time before.
"He loved you, quite deeply" Kass corrects.
"Oh. I – never realized – my apologies," she stammers, clasping her hands in front of her.
"He also witnessed our friend's brave sacrifice, and your own awakening, Your Highness," Kass continues, solemn, a furtive glance to her knight who's chosen to inspect the draping of the stable, "He made sure that I knew of it too, so I would be ready when the time came."
Link nods, inscrutable. Confirmation that none of this is news to him.
"Tell me more of your teacher, then, and how you came to guide my knight," she asks Kass, taking a seat on the grass.
The Rito lights up. With tenderness in his voice, he tells her of how the poet dedicated himself to finding the songs of the ancient hero, so that her knight's path to saving her might be eased. And, on learning from Impa of the likely effects of the shrine, of the pieces he'd started, so that the knight might recall his companions and his princess.
And lastly, towards the end of the his life, how he passed them on to Kass, so that he might carry out his work, no matter how long the knight slumbered. Zelda watches a silver crescent swell on purple skies, and her heart swells with it. She thought she was nearly alone. And yet, so many came to help him on his journey.
"But how did you find him?" she wants to know.
Kass is happy to oblige. He tells her of the day the ground rumbled, he towers shot off from the ground and the Castle growled awake. A sign, as certain as there could possibly be, that the time had come. And so, he had said his goodbyes to his family and made it for this very stable, believing that sooner or later, the Hero must pass it on the way to Kakariko.
"My teacher described him to me, almost as thoroughly as he did you. Although perhaps not as lovingly," Kass adds. Link shifts uncomfortably on the grass. "Although at first, I was not quite certain I should believe my eyes."
The Hero of Hyrule, it turns out, had strolled into the stable with a pot lid and club clanging on his back ("I'd just woken up, I had to make do," Link argues), remarkably devoid of a shirt ("It was too small! And itchy," he whines), plopped a sapphire on counter ("No rupees," he explains) and proceeded to cook a meal large enough for five men (he shrugs).
"He looked far more like himself on his return," Kass finishes.
"Impa," is all Link has to say to that. Zelda nods wisely.
He tells her of other stories too, Link complementing as they go. Of places they've seen and their efforts in decoding ancient verses. Somewhere in their adventures, an easy camaraderie developed between the two.
Link grabs a handful of wildberries from his pouch, drops them on her lap. Returning to his place, he points eagerly at his mouth. She tosses. He catches. He grabs one of his own, repeats her gesture. It lands on her chin.
"You need to watch the arch," old advice, that. She'd rather think she's better at throwing them. He seems relaxed. At ease. It reminds her of afternoons on surveys, when she could cast prayer aside.
"Although I understood the general objective the shrines, I must admit the individual purpose of some of them left me baffled," Kass is saying.
"Blood moon shrine?" Link asks, shuddering. She uses the opening to land a berry on his forehead. He glares.
"It was not a side of the Hero I ever expected to see," Kass returns the shudder.
Zelda is all concern. For Kass, certainly – she remembers the first time she ever saw her quiet, gentle knight truly let loose on a horde. It was disconcerting. But most of all for Link. She knows too well the horrors of the blood moon. Her hands shake. The berry she tosses goes wide.
"I believe I shall let you explain this one, my friend," Kass says with a look to the princess. Link, however, has become overcome with a look of dread on his face.
"...You always talked to me during blood moons..." he states, shrinking into himself, "I swear I had to. It was the only way in. I would never – I wouldn't dream to -" an abject whine rakes him "I was so relieved to get there in time, I completely forgot you were watching."
"I've seen you kill before," she says, reassuring, although her heart is small.
Link's peers at her from inside his tunic. "Not that," he dismisses, takes a deep breath, "It's when I had to be naked on the pedestal."
"Oh," she mouths, embarrassment at the image that conjures overtaken by relief, "So you weren't attacked?"
"Nothing special," he's staring at her like a turtle, "You didn't see?" His eyes narrow, fixed on her. His conclusions aren't fitting are they? Like an incomplete puzzle. She provides the missing piece.
"It was a blood moon, Link," she fumbles for a berry, her fingers refuse to take hold. "The peak of of Ganon's power."
"What did you see?" his voice is low, but there's an edge to it. Something squishes under her hold. Red on her fingers, eating away at her flesh. It will never truly wash away will it? She needs to scrape it off. Peel it off, make them clean, before it spreads.
"Stop that! Please – just stop," his urgency grounds her. He's holding her hands prisoner between his own. She never noticed when she started to claw at them. He runs his thumbs over her palms, soothes away the burning.
Goddess. He's just slain the beast. Must she make him come swiping at the monsters under her bed too? Zelda, tries. For his sake, she tries.
"Nothing. I could see nothing. I could hear nothing. I could not feel you."
"So you were just...sending a warning, blind, hoping it would reach me?" he asks, finally putting it together.
"Did it?" she asks, small.
"Every time." There's so much care in his eyes. She can barely stand to look.
"I'm sorry you had to see this," she tells Kass.
"After all you both have been through," Kass say kindly, "I hardly see a need to apologize. Hyrule owes you a great deal. I must admit, it has been quite enlightening to get to know the figures behind the legends."
"I'm afraid our feet must look made of clay," the princess blushes. Link seems lost in thought.
"Hey kid!" a man shouts from the stable entrance, "I'm really happy you're not lying on the side of a road and got a lady or whatever. But are you gonna keep him forever?" he asks, head pointing at Kass, "We could do with some music in here."
"Not too nosy, I think you said…"
"Yeah, well, you should see Foothill."
It's crowded inside. Noisy. Clinks and chatter and steps. Music, when Kass obliges and plays. There's smells of food and drink and horses. Of the grass outside and the wood. Of people. It's at once familiar and strange.
Link holds her hand. "It's not so different, is it? From when we travelled."
Ahead, a couple argues. "It's far too dangerous," he's saying, "better not be tempted." But the girl seems to have stopped listening.
"Finally!" she says, when she sees Link, "You saw it, didn't you? The mist is gone and I kneed to know how you're finding all that loot, now that I can sneak back in."
"Stay out of it. The Guardians are still active and the place is falling apart," Link tells her.
Her head spins. "Loot?" she asks, hoping it didn't come out as hollow as it sounded. The girl doesn't seem to care. She's fixated on her chest, raising and lowering her hand as if to cover her face.
"...Those symbols on your shirt. The triangles, the…" she draws the pattern with her finger, "those are all over the weapons he brought me. All over the banners too, inside the old castle."
"Let it go, Parcy," he warns. His hand is crushing hers. The girl is undaunted.
"Come to think of it, you got those triangles on your sword as well. How are you getting that royal stuff?"
"You're obsessed," he says. His smile is disarming but her hand has gone numb in his. "She got it from her grandma or something. Her parents are fancy. Named her Zelda and everything,"
"Oh. That's pretty cool," the girl bites, "nice to meet you by the way."
"And the sword I found in a forest somewhere. You know there's royal stuff outside the castle too, right?"
"You've had it for ages. Royal stuff is brittle."
"It's not, when you know how to take care of it," he snarks. Parcy's nose flares.
"You're an ass sometimes, you know that?"
The girl sulks her way back to her companion. Link drags her away, finding them as much of a quiet table as the small space allows.
"This was a mistake," he's saying, "I didn't think it through at all. We'll have to go somewhere else and you'll need to change. I'll get you something of mine to wear until we get to Kakariko. We'll have to take the stuff off the horse too."
"My home is...loot?" Link blinks at the statement.
"You saw the state it was in," he says kindly, "Look, think of it like a shrine, ok? A mysterious, near impenetrable building with...well, frankly, a lot of treasure inside. People are going to be drawn to that."
She knows that. Of course she knows it. She could barely stand to spend another minute there, the day before, surrounded by the wreckage of her life. By the presence of the Beast. Inside her prison. Her home is a ruin from a time that won't return. This pain makes no sense, and yet, it lingers.
"My research. My notes. My memories. My father's... They're loot?"
"My stuff was in there too," he reminds her, softly, "my room caved in."
"I'm sorry," she says, coming to herself, "I'm being petulant again."
"You're not," he assures her. "The more I remembered the harder it was to just be there. See it like that. The more annoyed I got at the way people treat it as – as a game. Like we were never there, like it didn't mean something," he shrugs, melancholy. "I've had time to deal with that., but you're just coming back."
"If you want, I'll talk to Impa, see if she can spare some of the Sheikah to secure it. But you need to be sure you want it back," he says.
"What do you mean?" she stalls. She doesn't like this turn in the conversation.
"The Calamity gone? Sheikah at the Castle? A blonde girl named Zelda walking around with a royal symbol on her shirt? We were dumb. We got so taken up with – with everything, we forgot caution."
"It can't be that telling," she tries to reason, "You're wearing your Champion tunic."
"I'm also wearing the Master Sword and your slate. Most people have no clue what those things are. But a lot more people remember the crest you're wearing. And everyone in charge knows exactly who I am."
It startles her. What he's saying, certainly. But also the shift in him. She always had trouble pinpointing it, even back then. It's in words, she thinks, how he always becomes less hesitant, more fluid. But also in his tone. His posture. It's like staring at a ghost – the knight, in full, after a century.
"I know we agreed on something for now. But if what you want is to disappear, be left alone for good, I need to know. There's a very small window and we're running out of time."
She almost laughs. It almost comes out, bitter and resentful as it is. She's been running out of time her whole life – out of time to find her power, out of time to save him, out of time to contain the Beast. She's lived longer than a lifetime and yet here she is – barely starting a new one and already late for it.
He stares at her and she stares back. She knows that look. Compassionate. Understanding. Unyielding. It's a staring match that has only ever ended one way. No matter how much they changed. How much better they came to see each other. There's ever only one outcome – it ends when she withdraws.
"What do you think I should do?"
"Not my call," he surprises her. He's pushed her up against the wall only to lean back and watch her flounder? It enrages her.
"Don't be ridiculous," she hisses, "If I decide right now I'm picking up that crown I'll expose you in every possible way. If I decide to vanish, you're the one left to pick up the pieces with everyone who knows."
"I'm aware," he says, calm. True calmness, not the sort he fakes with stone. He's leaving no doubt in her mind that he understands what he is asking her to do. And he's still letting her choose.
"Stop following me!" the petulant Princess is screaming in her head. She tried before, for all the wrong reasons. She's trying again. Goddess give her strength to do what's right. She breathes.
"What do you want? Actually want," she says when he's about to refuse, "After you woke up and after your remembered, during that time, what did you imagine you'd do with the rest of your life?"
Link surprises her for the second time that night. He stares at the table.
"I don't know," he says eventually. "I thought about it. A lot. But I don't think I could I ever see past Ganon. Until I was sure I'd be strong enough to kill it and you were safe, it all seemed...pointless. I knew we weren't getting a third try, so I had to make sure I didn't screw it up again."
"You didn't -"
"Doesn't matter. It had it be done right, is what I mean," he rushes to say when she tries to object. "I thought maybe once it was over and you were back, I'd be able to see things clearer."
"And now?" she presses.
"Some are, yeah," it's left there hanging, before he continues, "I think it's easier to say what I don't want," he offers.
She nods, urging him to continue. He seems to take a breath, gather up his courage.
"You said your power was fading," he's still looking at the table. She closes her eyes and braces for his words. "I can't go back to watching you pray at springs. Watching you do that to yourself. So if that's what you're going to do with your life, I can't be in it."
His tone is factual. Restrained. But his eyes are much too pained when she looks at him.
"I won't," she promises and relief seeps through her. It seeps through him. He lets it out in a series of short, nervous nods.
"And I can't go back to being how I was before I got the sword. I'd like to, but it's just gone," it saddens him, this admission, "but I can't be how I was after I got it either, not completely. And I don't want to," defiance there. She embraces it.
"I'm glad. I'd hate it if you did," he smiles at that, something small but true.
"There's only one more," he says as he snaps the slate out of his belt and the unmistakeable chime lets her her know he's turned it on, "I want to do this like we've always done it – you figure out where we're heading, and I figure out how to get us there." He slides the slate across the table, map glowing on the screen.
"Your turn. What do you want?"