#botwfirstanniversary

She was alive. Filthy from head to toe with torn clothes and messy hair but alive!

“May I ask…” she said, hands clasped at her chest. “Do you really remember me?”

The details of her features were unchanged, even after 100 years. Hair delicately framing her cheeks, catching the light like spun gold. It was her. It really was Princess Zelda. He knew her better than he knew anyone.

All this time searching. All of their friends lost. It was over. He had saved the Princess of Hyrule.

He answered “Yes” and her smile was almost blinding.

They fell quiet.

Link was unsure of what to do next, there wasn’t a clear goal anymore and… Could... Could he hug her? That didn’t seem proper. In the past he wouldn’t have… Heck, he couldn’t even think of what to say. All of that time working to defeat Ganon and he still couldn’t find anything meaningful to tell her. What an idiot he was.

She edged forward while he fretted to touch the cut on his cheek and Link finally realised he’d been staring. It stung but the warmth of her hand was an indescribable relief.

“It’s funny, all these years and I can’t think of what to say…” she said, turning her eyes from his in embarrassment. At least he wasn’t alone. “I knew you’d come. I knew you could defeat him and I must have thought it over a thousand times but now… “

Her words trailed off as she noticed the wound to his side and instinctively he moved to cover it.

“You’re hurt!”

“Not badly,” he replied, immediately. He had no idea. The fight with Ganon had lasted a long time, one of his blades had caught him, he wasn’t sure when it had happened or how badly. It hurt now.

“We need to get you help,” there was a ferocity in her gaze that allowed no room for argument. Not that Link had any. Gods, he’d missed those eyes…

“To Impa,” Kakariko would be safe. Even if he was injured she’d be safe there. The Sheikah would know what to do, they’d protect her if…

She searched his face for a long moment before nodding reluctantly and words couldn’t describe how thankful he was for the worried knit in her brow.

Princess Zelda… He was still a little awestruck. It felt like a dream. Maybe he was dead after all.

Leading her away from the castle felt like pulling taught the string of a bow. Some force held him there and tightened the knot in his chest, almost painfully so. Until suddenly it grew slack, gone like a weight lifted from his shoulders and Link was left feeling clear-headed and, more importantly, alone.

He turned back towards the spires of the castle, almost serene in the pale light.

The spirits of the champions had left him.

Zelda stopped too, she knew and understood. She carried with her wisdom unknown, of spirit realms and goddesses from beyond their mortal plane.

For a moment Link lamented the lack of a proper goodbye but… No, this was better.

He hoped his friends could find peace at last.

His white stallion was waiting exactly where Link had left him. Regal and impossibly white, he was enjoying the grass like the King of Evil hadn’t just been sealed into oblivion.

Oh, to be a fat horse that lived to eat apples all day. What a simple life.

The stallion raised his head on their approach and Link smoothed his coat fondly as the Princess glanced back at the castle once more. Link wondered if she’d miss it, in spite of her long captivity.

“He’ll take us both?” she asked, her voice sounded far away.

Link nodded and there was a pause, was she waiting for something..? The Princess looked him up and down and silently she lifted her skirts to vault onto the horse. He was so distracted by the crisp morning air, the silence, the flutter of fabric that he almost didn’t catch her when she fell.

“Sorry…” The words caught breathlessly in her chest, shocked at herself. “I can’t seem to…”

Idiot, Link. Of course she can’t do it herself. The airy voice, otherworldly look in her eye, she was exhausted. He recalled his own awakening in the shine. The effort it took to haul himself out of the cave. He’d spend a hundred years resting but the Princess had been fighting all that time…

It seemed “un-knightly” to manhandle her but truthfully he didn’t have the slightest clue what he was doing. To his relief she didn’t object when he hoisted her onto the back of the horse, didn’t notice the blood he’d smeared on her clothes or complain when he vaulted up onto the saddle in front.

The world turned blinding white for a moment.

Blood.

Maybe they were both in worse shape than he had first thought?

He’d felt the sting blade go in but not come out, that seemed like hours ago. Now he felt it everywhere, the rush of blood through his entire body as it ebbed out of the wound in his side. His undershirt was soaked and clung to his chest.

Dammit. Hadn’t he walked away with worse before? Ganon was his greatest foe but why did his strength have to give out in this moment? Had it been Daruk sparing him from pain? Or perhaps Mipha’s healing touch? They were gone and now…

Perhaps he'd cried out because the Princess Zelda gripped his shoulders steady as a wash of nausea swept over him. Oh no.

“I knew you were hurt!” she urged. “Link, you need to rest!”

Not a chance. Ganon had not died quietly and now every enemy in Hyrule knew exactly where they were. He hadn’t risked his life to see her gutted by a moblin in a field or stolen away by bandits. How could he live with himself if he failed now? No, get to safety and then he could rest for as long as he liked. He could die for all it mattered. There were no other options.

He shook his head.

“Not safe.”

She didn’t argue.

The storm crept in as they reached the dueling peaks, violent lightning casting bleak white light upon the stones. It was terrible and strangely wonderful. The Princess hardly seemed to notice the rain.

It felt dark behind his eyes as they finally reached the Kakariko bridge, as they rode up the path and beneath the red archways. So dark he couldn't muster up the energy to be relieved.

Someone called out to them but he wasn’t sure who, he hoped they wouldn’t all crowd around. He hated it when they did that. He just needed to rest.

They had made it to the centre of the village when he lost his balance.

Despite the suffering the creature known as Ganon had caused to him and everyone else he had met, hatred was difficult. Link had once encountered a wild boar in the forest, blood and pus leaking from where the broken spearhead pierced its ribs. He had seen the fury in its eyes as it charged and he put it down with a blow from his sword. He couldn’t help but feel, if the Calamity truly once had been a man, that it was much the same thing. He saw the flayed and rotting skull in feverish dreams, heard the unearthly roar, and wondered if there was anything a single person could do that deserved ten thousand years of imprisonment. But the question of what was deserved was long past. Sword in hand, Link had done what he could.

He finished his food, and rose to his feet. For a moment, he bowed his head in remembrance of the souls lost here. With a last glance, he prepared to head back down into the lower floors of the castle.

The princess had not followed him to the Sanctum. He could hardly blame her, aside from the difficulty of traversing the ruins, one hundred years was quite enough for anyone to spend there in one lifetime. In the months since, she had spoken little of her semi-voluntary imprisonment in the castle. He hadn’t attempted to pry it out of her.

They had traveled far and wide, just the two of them, like an echo of the past. At each village and settlement, they stopped as Princess Zelda introduced herself, and consulted with the local authorities on what they needed, what their concerns were, and how they saw Hyrule going forward. She had not taken the role of Queen yet, hoping that she could foster greater cooperation and stability between the scattered pockets of civilization before reviving the kingdom. Everything would go more smoothly if people naturally came to see themselves as part of a whole.

She was frightened, she had confessed to him, frightened that she wouldn’t do well enough. After a century of isolation, human contact was strange to her, being the center of attention almost unbearable. Despite that, he thought, she was lovely, and endeared herself to people wherever she went. He was sure that she would make a great queen, when she was ready. But he did not push the matter.

The sunlight streamed through the broken wall of Princess Zelda’s study, but it was silent and empty. A selection of books had been taken, a fallen scrap of paper suggesting a hurried retreat. Her bedroom was in a similar condition. Neither was she in the library, though some effort had been made to move books away from the broken wall that exposed them to the elements. The gatehouses were abandoned. Strangely, the dust in the Royal Guard’s chambers had been recently disturbed, although there was no sign of her there either. He furrowed his brow, beginning to worry a little. He had been sure that he had eliminated all the monsters here the first time around, certainly, he had seen no sign of them today. And yet, the chance that he was wrong sent adrenaline rushing through his veins.

The Observation Room yielded no sign of the princess either, even when he looked out the windows to check that she was not waiting for him by the entrance. He swore quietly, more of a hiss than a properly enunciated word. He hoped that she was somewhere safe and staying put. Otherwise they could both wander the inside of the castle for days and not cross paths.

The creak of timber made him look up, but it was merely a crow taking flight from a broken ceiling beam. Its distorted shadow flickered across the floor. He hurried back into the hall, wondering where to look next. It seemed unlikely that the princess would venture down into the lockup, that winding corridor of prison cells in the depths of the castle. Perhaps she had tried to enter the underground Sheikah laboratory, but as far as he knew that was inaccessible, unless one was unfortunate enough to fall through the hole in the Sanctum.

A familiar and sweet scent wafted to him, one that he couldn’t quite place. It was not quite that of baking bread, but carried a hint of fruit… He paused, his mind caught in almost-remembrance, another corridor, another meal being prepared. Then he shook off the past and moved forward.

On top of the sweetness and the scent of baking came a faintly bitter note, that of something charred. His nose had located it now, and he pushed open the heavy door at the far end of the dining room. Sure enough, the princess was there, crouched over the cooking pot with a look of concentration, muttering some indistinct but certainly irritable words. Wrapping the remains of a curtain around her hands, she took a smaller, lidded pot from the heavy cast iron pan, and tipped the contents onto a waiting plate. A cake, topped with apple wedges, slid inelegantly out of the pot. The princess gave the pot an impatient thump and several more slices of apple slopped onto the cake, giving off a hint of cinnamon. Despite the appearance, the scent was quite appealing. Taking a knife, the princess inexpertly trimmed off part of the edge that had begun to burn, and nudged the apple wedges back into a roughly circular arrangement. She did not notice him approaching.

“Link!” she yelped, and the knife clattered onto the table, spattering syrupy fruit juice across the table cloth. He took a step back, hands raised in what he hoped was a disarming gesture. The princess took a deep breath, as though she were trying to calm herself, and reached for the knife she had dropped.

“Goodness, you scared me…”

He gave her a stern look, one that might have communicated that she had frightened him by wandering all the way across the castle without a word, but he wasn’t very good at stern looks and his expression softened after only a moment. His gaze drifted to the fresh cake, once again noticing that it did smell very good.

“I was in the Royal Guard’s chambers,” she spoke after a moment, still prodding at the cake, scooping up an apple slice that was sliding off the edge. “I looked for your military records, but… whole sections of the archives have been destroyed, mildewed, used by the monsters as kindling… I wasn’t able to find any information about you back then.” Her eyes met his. “I’m sorry.”

Link looked back at her in surprise. Certainly, he’d never asked her to do this. He’d accepted it, as much as he could, that everything that happened before was a past life, one of which only glimpses remained. He was a different person now, and not entirely sure that he wanted his old self back, if it meant changing the him that had existed for the past year. He was real, whoever he was.

“Anyway…” She paused to suck on her finger for a moment where it had gotten covered with sticky fruit syrup, and began cutting into the cake. “Today is… It’s been one year, exactly, since I woke you. I remember. The third day of spring. And… since I couldn’t find… since I don’t know… when your birthday is. I…”

She slid the flat of the knife under a slice of cake, and held it out. He picked it up carefully between two fingers, cupping one hand underneath to prevent it from crumbling, blowing on it where there was still steam rising from the top.

“Happy Birthday, Link.”

Words didn't come to him easily, but he spoke them anyway. Taking a breath, he steadied his gaze to meet her eyes.

"...Thank you. Zelda."

Then she smiled and it really was like the sun. He looked down at the cake in his hand before shoving the entire slice into his mouth, a habit of eating on the run he’d never quite broken. For what was presumably a first attempt at a cake, it was quite well done, the fruit simmered to a soft sweetness, the batter light and fluffy all the way through. His hand hovered over the remainder of the cake, fingers wriggling as if asking for permission. The princess laughed.

“Yes, go on. It’s for you, after all.”

He needed no further encouragement. The princess took a seat at the great dining table, and he took the place next to her, and another bite of cake. Cautiously, she reached for a slice of her own.

“It’s certainly fortunate that the cookery section of the library did not meet the same fate as the archives.”

Mouth full, he nodded his wholehearted agreement.

“You know… I was nervous about returning here, but… I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Of course, I remember how this place was… I always will. But today, I can’t stop thinking about how we can rebuild it all. What I’m going to add. What I’m going to do differently. How grand it will be when we can call this place the center of our kingdom once more.”

His fingers entwined with hers under the table.

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” He squeezed her hand in response, and she blushed before continuing hurriedly and in a somewhat higher pitch, “I think we should head north first, secure a supply of stone from the quarries in Eldin. Of course, it will take them a while to accelerate production, perhaps a season or two. In the meantime, we need to find workers. Perhaps some of the smaller settlements can be persuaded to relocate to the old Castle Town…”

The slate slipped between his fingers and with a start Link found himself in the present again.

When had he fallen to his knees?

The mud and rain were gone, replaced by the warm summer sunlight as it filtered through the trees, dappling the earth with shadows.

He felt cold.

The painter had sent him in the direction of the forest, the image of the woodland had seemed to Link like a lost cause. But he’d known, Pikango had an eye for recognising scenery and he knew Hyrule so well it almost made Link jealous.

He’d felt a peculiar sort of anticipation on the ride, so unusually aware of his surroundings it was almost too much to take in. Four times he’d sought out memories and now he knew the feeling well.

His mind would play tricks, he’d see familiarity in hedgerows, in the mountains in the distance. Once he’d spent an afternoon wandering from tree to lonely tree on Hyrule field, certain that the next would be the one. Eventually it became clear he was looking much too far south.

There was very little doubt in his mind about what this new memory would reveal. Princess Zelda proved herself more and more inept with every revelation about the time they’d spent together. Her back to him, the edge in her tone, the poorly concealed resentment in her eyes, quite removed from the voice he’d heard in the shrine all those months ago.

More infuriating, however, was the absence of his frustration in his own memories. Had he been too foolish to see at the time? Or perhaps too stubborn to notice? Too enamoured with knightly duties to appreciate the injustice levelled at him.

Link understood it all too clearly now, with each new scar, each night alone under a bloodmoon. He would not be allowed to share the lifestyle of those he met in the villages and he was growing tired of watching them return to their quaint little homes and shut the door behind them.  Was it so wrong to want that too?

“You must save her. My daughter.”

With what newfound strength should I put my life on the line, old man? Hyrule was too vast. Each winding path lead to challenges unknown. He had come to know some, yes. But why him? Why was this his responsibility alone? Nobody sane would want this.

So what if he could picture the light on her golden hair? The gentle curve of her waist - What did that matter? Perhaps he did lack all control over his destiny, but he was free to think what he liked, wasn’t he?

He halted, suddenly unable to move any further, and dismounted without hesitation. This was the place, a woodland a little overgrown by time. But as calm and quiet as the image he knew.

Link’s breath caught in his throat.

Why was he afraid of a memory? They were a window into a past he wasn’t sure he cared for. What stakes did he have in a long dead history that filled him with such dread?

It was irrational. There was no need to run from this. The more information he gathered the easier it would be to vanquish his enemies and then he could move on to whatever he wanted.

He took the slate from his hip and rifled through the images until- Yes, this was the place, although perhaps a few paces right…

Besides, if Zelda had worked for her power things would be different. It wasn’t his fault he was in this situation. It wasn’t his fault Hyrule-

“It’s all my fault!” The Princess, unable to look him in the eyes, was stooped in the mud with her face in her hands.

Your grace, there isn’t time.

Even the pelting rain was against them, in his eyes, in his boots, weighing him down with each step they took. They couldn’t stop here. It wasn’t safe.  

They were running out of time, every passing second inching them closer towards death, the creeping malice would would not rest until it had sought them out. Until her blood was spilled, her head dashed in and she was dead.

Yet, he felt compelled to take a knee, a force of habit perhaps, or because…

No, his duty was to…

“-All hope for defeating Ganon is lost, all because I couldn’t harness this cursed power.”  her hands balled into fists, trembling and soaked to the bone. Dirt coating the dress that had been so white not long before.

She was not herself, torn up with grief. She raised her voice as she glared at him. He could see the same bitterness, the same shame in her eyes that he knew all too well. But he understood now. Deep down he knew it too.

“Everything… Everything I’ve done up until now… It was all for nothing!”

Link thought his heart my break for her.

Yet she continued to speak. The Princess always found words when he could not. Even now his mouth wouldn’t open, voice caught in his throat, and he could think of no comfort that would suffice.

“So I really am just a failure!”

No.

“All my friends, the entire kindgom, my father most of all… I tried and I failed them all…” the tears fell freely down her face and still he was powerless to keep her from despair.

No one was left. Her power had not manifested. And he lacked the courage to console her at all.

They were without hope.

She said;

“I’ve left them all to die…”

Link raised a hand to rub his temple, his arms now empty of the girl he’d held a moment before. Left alone with only the creeping sense of guilt. He wasn’t familiar with the feeling of self-loathing and didn’t care for it. 

He wasn’t sure how to move again.

The sun was hot on the back of his ears and he felt the prickle of sweat on his brow. Yet he felt a chill all the way down to the bone.

“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.”

Riju was good company when she wasn’t sat in her throne, not that she wasn’t impressive when she was, but Link much preferred the mischievous grin on her face over the haughty gaze of a leader.

They had chosen to eat supper on the roof of her bedroom, it wasn't the easiest place to reach, (especially under the watchful eye of Bularia) but Riju was quite competitive and insisted she could climb quicker.

...She was wrong but it had been a close match.

It was nice to be able to spend a moment without worryìng about a veil or appearances, not to mention that eating food and making puns were probably two of Link’s favourite pastimes.

“Not bad for a voe…” Riju teased - she was trying to get a rise out of him and he could see her glancing at his way, cheeky grin and all, out of the corner of his eye. “Give me a few years and I'll squash you flat!”

Link rolled his eyes and chose to demolish the rest of his roasted birds leg rather than rise to the challenge.

He liked the warm evening sun and the rush fresh of desert air from the spring - he liked all of Gerudo town, actually. Well, maybe not the part that barred him from entering. Their culture was so vastly different from what he was used to, and such a bustling town? Few and far between in Hyrule.

It was a refreshing sight for sore eyes (when he wasn’t baking heat).

“How tall would you say Urbosa was?” Riju asked, suddenly.

Link blinked in surprise, he’d been distracted enjoying the atmosphere.

“It’s just that everyone I’ve ever known has told me she was an imposing figure and I... I’m… Vertically I’m not very…” she elaborated, quickly. For the first time since he’d met her Link thought that maybe Riju was a little embarrassed. He felt the beginnings of a smile turn up the corners of mouth, but it was wiped away immediately by the glare she shot him. For someone so young the Gerudo chief was very intimidating.

“Um…” he began and then instantly forgot every word he’d ever learned.

“Nevermind. Forget it,” Riju changed the subject, curtly. Link gulped, entirely convinced she would cut his ears off if he didn’t ‘forget it’ as commended. “It doesn’t matter.”

It was silent for a good minute, broken only by the loud crack as Link snapped his bird bone in two, uncomfortable with the tension.

“She was the tallest of the Champions…” He began, scratching the back of his head, awkwardly. “Er- except for Daruk! But she was very strong, really fearsome and kinda terrifying.”

Riju seemed a little deflated by the description, tight lipped she toyed with her fingers. But she didn’t complain as he’d expected.

“But I’m not… The best judge…” Link continued, trailing off once he realised Riju was looking at him, curiously.

Dammit, he was going to have to say it. Wasn’t he?

“I used to be called “Little guy” because I’m not…”

This whole quest was a terrible idea.

“I’m not very tall.” He admitted.

For what felt like century Riju stared at him, wide eyed and mouth agape, before she broke down into uncontrollable laughter. The hearty sort of belly-laugh that would have made Urbosa proud. He should have stayed quiet.

“I bet they did!” she cackled, pausing only to give him a merciless smack on the back. “You’re the tiniest Voe I’ve ever seen!”

Thanks for nothing, Riju.

“But…” she paused to wipe the tears of laughter from her eyes, trying her best to hold back the chuckle. “You’ve more than proven you have fight in you. Vanquishing Vah Naboris was proof enough of that.”

She rose to her feet, confidence regained.

“After my mother passed away I didn’t have many role models to guide me. My position as chief is challenging but rewarding and I will shoulder it gladly,” The setting sun framed her silhouette and, Link had to admit, leadership suited her - Even if she was barely more than a child. “I want to be the strongest, most powerful ruler the Gerudo have ever seen. I want this to be an age we can be proud of!”

Yes, Urbosa would be proud.

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.

“All done,” Rhondson announced, presenting the blue garment as though it were the head of an enemy. Although unnecessary, Link couldn’t help admire the that true Gerudo grit, even if it was a little intimidating.

“I do not know how to work with your heavy Hylian fabric, especially ones that have been enchanted, but I patched it up...” Link held out his hands to take the tunic from her, scrutinising the almost invisible stitching up seam of the right sleeve. It turned out cloth vs. Lynel wasn’t infallible, but the seamstress had done a remarkable patch-job.

Rhondson snorted at his expression before adding; “Should fit those shoulders better, too.”

“Thank you,” Link smiled.

“It’s a smart tunic,” Hudson remarked, as calm as ever, even as his wife snaked an arm around his waist. Hudson was a true friend and Link was pretty sure he knew what the garment meant to him. (Not that he’d ever be able to tell under those big brows and moustache.) “You take care of it.”

“Yes, if you come scampering back here I will not be kind!” Rondson was easier to read, Link was pretty sure she’d make good on that threat. Better take fewer pictures posing with angry monsters.

He nodded in response and turned his back to pull the tunic on over his undershirt. Rhondson was right, it was less tight on the arms now. It seemed he’d grown a little, maybe he wouldn’t always be the shortest man in Hyrule. Maybe there was hope for him yet. 

It seemed like a fools dream.

Straightening out the champion’s tunic and strapping the scabbard of his sword tightly over his chest he felt as good as new. Right and proper as he examined himself in the mirror. A Knight of Hyrule… With grass-stains on his trousers.

Yes, now he was ready to slice off that demon’s head.

“Stay for dinner?” Rondson offered, although it sounded more like a demand than a request. Hudson chuckled at her abrasive tone.

Dinner did sound good, and he wasn’t usually one to turn down a meal but…

“Sorry, I’d like to very much,” he turned, hands resting lightly on the belt at his waist. “But I’ve got something I need to do. Thanks for all your help.”

He wasn't sure when it began, but Link had started talking to his sword.

Ok, not all the time - Link didn’t tend to have very much to say... But the longer he was awake, the more aware and embarrassed by his own bad habits he was becoming.

It was similar to how he hadn't known at first that wearing a shirt was almost always a must. Well, he had a nagging feeling he should but it wasn't until he’d been scolded a few times that he realised that his bare torso might not always be well received. He hadn’t known that frequent bathing was mandatory until two Zora had thrown him into a river and he’d washed up downstream cold but much more pleasing on the nostrils... And, as someone who almost exclusively kept the company of horses, he hadn't thought much about talking with things that couldn't talk back until he’d overheard some travellers at a stable call him strange.

He didn't have lengthy debates with the sword or anything, just a comment here and there but…

Ok, it was weird.

He'd been awake long enough, travelled far enough and had enough memories of the past now to know it was weird.

But a part of him didn't care.

The sword was familiar. Not just the feel of the hilt or the weight of it's swing. He knew this sword deeply, so well that he could describe the engravings on it's fuller like the smile of an old friend.

They called it the Master Sword and aptly so. The blade of legend that could seal the darkness. 

But Link regarded it with a different sort of reverence.

What? Now that he had the sword in his possession he couldn’t imagine it in the hands of another owner. A sword crafted for him alone, dependable and fated for the same goal as he.

It was strange.