#botwfirstanneversary

Link wanted to meet the person who had created these memories.

On some level, he understood that they were his. They had to be, for him, experience them, sent into flashback upon seeing certain things once again. At the same time, however, the memories felt distant to him. A story he was watching play out. 

This Link of the memories, so quiet, borderline stoic. Sure, Link could feel all of the emotions that the boy as actually feeling behind his demeanor, but why didn’t he just say what he felt? He had a voice, he could talk, why didn’t he do it? Why not talk to Zelda?

What Link wouldn’t give to talk to Zelda right now. He had so many things he wanted to ask her.

His past-self’s silence did explain a few things about him currently. Mainly the signing. Muscle-memory so ingrained with his speaking that it came to him naturally, and Link had to admit it was one of the thing he currently treasured. It was one of the few things he could effortlessly remember. 

“Whoa, Windswept.” Link pulled back on his horse’s reigns, bringing her to a stop. She winnied and he patted her neck before dismounting. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a second. 

He took out his Sheikah Slate and compared the stone archway before him to the one shown on the slate. They aligned perfectly, but he would know there was something special here even without the slate. His bones begged him to stop moving, knowing that something had happened here, something that he needed to see. A memory Link had the ability to regain. 

Link closed his eyes, holding off a second longer, breathing in a deep and long breath.

“Stay for the night?”

Link nodded, trying in vain to wipe the wet hair from his eyes. Rain poured down relentlessly and showed no sign of stopping. There was no way Link would be able to climb to the summit with the weather so bleak, far wiser to wait it out.

The two faces peering out of the tent exchanged a glance. He wouldn’t blame them for turning him down, he probably looked suspicious.

But to his surprise, after they had come to some sort of unspoken understanding, the woman smirked asked;

“Can you cook?”

Practical? Yes. Good first impression? Yes. Overkill? Maybe.

It wasn’t easy to fry eggs on a flameblade but Link had succeeded at it enough times now to consider himself an expert. (Not to mention the added benefit of not smoking out the whole tent with an open flame.) But, then again, Link thought that he was quite good at a lot of things. Things he wasn’t sure he’d tried before.

“I’m glad you showed up, Link! I’m starved!” Lorelle, the woman, was wittering the night away completely unburdened by her, more often than not, full mouth. 

“This is good meat, too!” she praised, proceeding to tear the last mushroom (from her second skewer, no less) with her teeth. Her eyes were a dark brown and in the dim glow of the lamp Link could make out a light dusting of freckles on her cheeks. Her travel companion was named Ruko, his beard was unkempt and he was quieter than his friend, but he seemed nice enough. An intelligent man who boasted a firm understanding of mathematics.

Link was almost convinced that they weren’t Yiga. (He’d been taught caution the hard way.) Their woeful tale of bokoblins stealing their food seemed too genuine to be fake, not to mention there wasn’t a single banana in sight - A comically deadly give-away.

“The last of a boar I caught near riverside stable,” Link answered as he mopped the egg yolk from his own plate with a slice of bread. “Traded the rest to a guy who could smell it in my pack from ten paces away.”

Ruko raised his brows quizically. “That’s quite the skill…”

“He ate it there and then.”

The man had used his bare hands too, it was a bit of a spectacle.

“A whole boar?”  Ruko scoffed.

Link hesitated, perplexed by the comment. He hadn’t really considered it strange before. Most of the things people did seemed strange. Tending flower gardens, wasting time in hot springs… Other people seemed to have wildly different priorities.

“I think he was just really hungry.”

Lorelle laughed at his comment a little more than he’d expected. Paying close attention to his hosts, Link had the feeling she quite liked him. Something about the colour her cheeks turned under her freckles, the way she tried to catch his eye when he looked her way. 

He didn’t mind, truthfully he quite liked the attention.

Link was often alone on his travels and rarely knew what to say when he was not. “Handsome and stoic” he’d been called. People that told him that he was good-looking tended not to mind filling the gaps in conversations when Link’s words left him. A blessing he called upon more often than not.

“Well now, not that this isn’t fun… But it’s late and we really should save the candle,”  Ruko suggested, interrupting Link’s train of thought as he reached over to take the empty plate from his lap. “How about we get some sleep?”

Now that Link was more alert, he was pretty sure Ruko’s eyes caught his in the same way as his companion’s.

The two merchants didn’t snore in the classic sense of the word. However, they were no silent sleepers by any stretch of the imagination. That and the incessant patter of raindrops on the canopy of the tent, the murmur of a storm in the distance, it could almost drive him mad.

They were clearly content with each other’s company (obnoxious half-snores and all) in a way that Link was not, and the pair drifted off almost as soon as they bid the tent goodnight. 

It was uncomfortably humid and the space seemed cramped in a way it hadn’t over their meal. Close, loud and busy. 

Perhaps, Link thought, it was because of the tightness in his throat or the prickle down his spine. He’d known this feeling before, it taunted him on the edge of his memory. It seemed so close when he closed his eyes, but he couldn’t quite recall it. Guilt, perhaps? Fear? No, it was similar to how he felt in a crowded room, very aware, very awake.

For a long while he weighed up his chances in the rain, but a crack of thunder quashed the idea as soon as it subsided. Better to stay put.

Possessed by the need to work with his hands, Link pulled the slate from his travellers pack. For what seemed like the hundredth time, he began working through the pictures Impa had told him were left by Zelda all those years ago. Most of the locations were strange to him, limited to peaks in the distance he vaguely knew, but very few that he confidently recognised.

An open path in early dawn, Zelda striding forward, the weight of a sword on his back.

“Can you hear it yet, hero?” she’d asked, coldly.

In his sleep Ruko rolled onto his back, breathing loudly, dryly through his mouth.

The second was the place where she’d confronted him. It had been a shock to the system at first, quickly disproving the idea of the Princess he’d created in his head.

The only context Link had to work with were the words of Impa and the Old Man. They’d told him that he was a Knight of Hyrule. The appointed Knight. The chosen hero. That he’d died a noble death protecting Princess Zelda, heir to the throne and bearer of a sacred power. His partner in a prophecy that foretold the return of a great evil.

Regardless of what they’d said, to Link it seemed clear that his partner didn’t care for him very much at all.

The more he stared at the image on the screen, the more he tried to convince himself that he didn’t like Princess Zelda very much, either.

Why did he make such a habit of coming back to these pictures? They never calmed him as he hoped they would.

Why him? Link wondered, not for the first time. Why couldn’t he stop himself from moving on? Why had Zelda left him such an impossible task? Why was he acting upon it?

There were no answers.

Tomorrow he’d climb that mountain regardless. He was certain there was a shrine at the top. If he trained he could become stronger. If he became stronger he could free the Divine beasts. If he freed the beasts he could confront Ganon. If he confronted Ganon he could…

Link didn’t know.

He kept scrolling through the slate.

Another picture, and Link felt the damp of rain through his tunic. The hilt of a sword in his hand, the next step in his footwork clear in his mind. Front foot forward. Don’t lock your arm before the swing. The sword cut through the air in a clean arc. He began the forms again. Zelda spoke, voice far away and he stopped to listen.

She was clearly unhappy. She couldn’t do what was expected of her. She didn’t want to.

Link felt a little resentful towards the pang in his chest. Conflicted by the disjointed pity he felt for a girl he wasn’t sure he knew. Pity with no beginning and no end.

Lorelle stirred, her breath tickled the back of his neck.

“Link, could you turn that light out?” she muttered, voice cracking with sleep.

Immediately he switched off the slate and set it aside. The tent was very dark without it.

“Sorry.”

He’d never considered the possibility that something about him might be missing until Impa mentioned it.

What had she said? 

Something about a lack of “spark of recognition” in his eyes.

Link couldn’t get the comment out of his head. Did she really have to phrase it like that? Any tact at all would have been appreciated, maybe lighten the remark with a witty idiom or two? 

The young man stretched out on the bed, thankful for the privacy of the inn. Kakariko was serenely quiet now that night had fallen. It had been much too crowded upon his arrival. Too many people staring at his ride, asking personal questions, gathering around to gawk at his face.

At least now he could enjoy the distant rush of water and a warm bed in peace.

Now that he’d met her, Link wasn’t sure he cared for Impa much. On his journey he’d only met a handful of elderly Hylians and, to Link, Impa in particular resembled an untrustworthy old toad. Still, she seemed to know more about him than he knew himself. Best to not make an enemy of her just yet.

He knew he was Link, once Zelda’s appointed knight. That he was on some sort of quest to destroy a beast named Calamity Ganon.

Link had assumed he was quite lucky, a wide-open world to explore, a quest to fulfil, a girl who needed saving. He’d never met another soul with such clear direction. Now he was supposed to be reflecting on a forgotten past, too? 

Agitated in a way he’d never experienced before, he unbuckled his bracer, roughly pulling up the fabric of his sleeve to examine the marks on his arm. They were scars, the most notable was a long pale slice across the skin of his forearm. He had more scars than he could count, especially on his chest, but hadn’t thought to pay them any mind. They didn’t get in the way, in fact he felt his muscles growing stronger with each passing day. Now he could eat more, he could run further, fight harder.

Why did these marks bother him now?

“…No spark of recognition, huh?”

It wasn’t his fault he’d forgotten there were things he needed to remember.

Prince Sidon, it seemed, dealt only in compliments.

It had taken three weeks (and half a dozen Yiga attacks) for Link to fully understand that people were not always honest with him.

Most of them meant well, Prince Sidon in particular! Link was very greatful to have a friend who waved so cheerily on his approach, not to mention how nice it was to be told he was great and skilled. 

But the Zora prince had a way with words that Link still lacked the finesse to understand. 

He was learning fast.

For example; “That Zora Armour makes you look like a fine Warrior, my friend!” and “I’m truly impressed you’ve managed to create such a pungent concoction of smells in that travellers pack! Remarkable!” may both sound positive - but this was most definitely not the case. Link was a wiser man now.

After his arrival one day prior, Link had spent the morning hunting lizafos for their shock arrows and parts. They were quick and wily monsters, but simple enough to outwit once he knew their tricks. The most challenging part, Link thought, was avoiding the mess when he cut off their tails. They sold for a high price and with the rupees earned he’d bought a new travellers pack and a pair of Zora greaves. The legwear was a little skin-tight for his taste, but they were perfect for braving the water.

In the afternoon he’d scoured the mountain for a fearsome Lynel that had been terrorising the locals, only to realise he’d been wandering about in the rain on entirely the wrong peak. Waterlogged failure aside, that could be considered time well spent, right? Of course it could! 

That hour he’d spent chasing hot-footed frogs in the local pond to cook up in elixirs was totally invaluable, too...

And how was he supposed to know that asking Bazz how he was feeling would spiral the guard into an unending story about the good Princess Mipha, a tale thwarted only by the call to return to his work? There was no way Link could have predicted that.

It was too late to do anything else now, anyway.

He rather liked the Zora, Link concluded once he’d laid back on his waterbed for the night. The eerily long torsos and frightening teeth may have been off-putting at first, but they were a kind, welcoming people and it was pleasant to admire their domain, to marvel at the glow of the Luminous stones until they had lost their novelty. 

It was... Refreshing to spend time with people who knew him, the old him anyway. Their long lives meant that they knew things he couldn’t recall, they could tell him tales of his past adventures with his friend Mipa and they’d never shame him for his work ethic. Impa and Purah wanted him to do everything in such a hurry! The Zora were grateful for his help.

Was it so wrong to want to cherish the simple joys of a waterbed?

Still, it was all a little melancholy. He couldn’t remember the names of the people who greeted him with such open arms. Couldn’t share in the grief of the King and his son as they looked upon the statue of the Zora Princess.

He felt guilty.

Link rolled onto his stomach, a little restless. The bed too soft in comparison to the cold hard ground he was used to. How did others drift off to sleep on something that felt like it could swallow him up?

He sighed and buried his face in the lavish pillows. 

Technology was such an odd word.

Most Hylians thought of technology as the first ever electric-powered street lamps, or lights in a house. It was the new, the next thing they could attain, what scholars and scientists strove to produce.

But how could it be such a future thing, when the slate in Link’s hands put it all to shame?

“The picture of the lynel you needed.” Link flipped to the image and showed it to the Zora. The Zora gawked at how it managed to capture the lynel to such exactness. From Link’s understanding, there were very few pictures drawn of lynels considering how feared they were. When you were close enough to see it, it could also see you and would soon start firing arrows. 

Of course, pictures wasn’t the only thing it could do. It could read off the temperature, show Link where he was in Hyrule, point out where he needed to go, kept time, predicted the whether, it could even teleport him between shrines (though he tried to avoid using that feature - he didn’t like to think about how he’d teleport in the middle of the day and wind up at his destination at sunset with no recollection of the time in between).

Link waved goodbye to the Zora, the younger ones sad to see him go while the older ones scoffed. The sun was setting, and he supposed he could spend the night there, but had done so just last time. He wanted to take a moment to himself.

If there was one thing Link was sure of, was that he liked the moments where there was nothing but the world and himself, like he stood at the edge of nothing. It was oddly peaceful.

He lept off of the bridge, paragliding down to an outcropping of land. One of his shoes skimmed the surface of the water before coming in contact with dirt and grace as he made his graceful landing, tucking the para glider away. 

Farther down the river he could see a few lizalfoes swimming, a couple of them looking like they were tucking in fro the night, and luckily none of them had spotted his descent. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight right now.

Link gathered up some food and took out a piece of flint, striking it with the zora sword he had picked up a day or two ago until a few sparks flew off and caught on the dry grass in the middle of the stack. Link gently blew on it until there was a decent fire going, and he smile do himself, setting down his gear. 

Link wakes up to an unfamiliar voice calling what he recognizes as his name. The receding water leaves him chilled to the bone, shivering as he sits up and looks at the unfamiliar room around him. He doesn’t know where he is, or what to do. He wonders if he would’ve even opened his eyes if not for the voice’s insistence. 

Did he dream, while he was asleep? One usually can’t remember dreams, that much he knows. They’re also supposed to remember the rest of their lives when they awaken. 

He walks as if he is still in the dream he may or may not have had. The odd device is taken off of its pedestal, he takes the shirt and pants from the chest that he found in the tunnel leading out of the odd room he’d awoken in. Eventually, it leads to a wall of dirt. 

Link climbs it easily enough, muscles with a strength he wasn’t familiar with remembering what he does not, working almost separately from the rest of him, fingers working to find handholds, knowing how to use even the smallest amount of a grip to make progress upwards.

He’s a little winded as he reaches the top of the small cliff (so small, so minuscule compared to what he will face in the future) but it all fades to the back of his mind upon seeing the light literally at the end of the tunnel. He’s back up on his feet, sprinting forward, breathing in great gasps of air because there’s something out there. 

The hill ends on a point, and Link stops, breathless in multiple ways. 

He doesn’t know this grass, this dirt. The volcano and the snow-capped mountains in the distance made a pit in his stomach that desperately wanted to know them grow bigger. 

“We’re not talking about regular old lake water here! Especially not the stuff in my beautiful guidance stone! ...You’re making a dumb face, are you keeping up?” Link was not keeping up.

“Look it’s easy! Ok- The blue flames burn hotter than a normal wood fire and the liquid conducts far more efficiently than rusty ol’ metal so when it’s combined we can convert and store all of that information as simple as that! You just drip-feed it in here, mix it about there and WHAP!!” Purah clapped her hands together, jolting Link to sit bolt upright in his seat, almost knocking his supper over in the process. “A technological masterpiece!”

The sheikah scientist had been talking for what felt like three hours, Link had been following for about three minutes of it.  

He wasn’t an idiot, he could read and write and count better than a great number of the people he’d met on his travels. It all came naturally to him! In the shrines he’d encountered, not to mention overcome, all kinds of strange challenges. He knew metal could conduct electricity - he could use it to power things, to kill things. He could glance at a cliff face and assess the safest route up, shoot an arrow and adjust for the wind-speed, he could outsmart a dozen enemies on their own turf and he could string a bow without anyone ever having to show him how.

It was a shame that talking with Purah made him feel like none of that meant anything.

Oh Hylia, she was still talking.

“...But that information can get all jumbled up, I think they did it on purpose - A working theory, but that’s besides the point. What was I saying? Ah, yes! But that’s why I need certain things to un-jumble it, to upgrade it!” She either hadn’t noticed his confusion or she didn’t care. Probably the latter. “That’s why I’m gonna need that giant ancient core! I need more powerful stuff to get you in tippy-top shape! You follow, Linky~?” (Ugh...)“Plus, I gotta say that I want to play with it myself for a little while!”

At his desk, Symin took an audiable sip of his tea, clearly no aid would come from him.

“Huh,” Link muttered, chewing a crust of bread. He hadn’t meant to set her off in the first place, Symin. He hadn’t even asked for the upgrade, it was her idea! All her!

“Now... You can probably loot a core from one of those shrines, right? And take pictures too, I want to see what’s inside and you keep forgetting! But if stealing doesn’t sound thrilling enough, you could always bust open a Guardian or two. They’re bound to have all kinds of fun things inside!”

The hero heaved a weary sigh, truthfully the Guardians scared the daylight out of him. Only Purah would suggest something so crazy. “How do I do that? I can hardly get close...”

“Well, my old assistant Robbie would know all the ways you can tear those things apart,” Purah mused, index finger on her chin as she cocked her head to the left. Talking about Robbie always seemed to bore her. 

“But if you ask me…” 

She plucked the butter knife from his plate to twirl it effortlessly between her fingers, childlike features twisting into a devious smile.