#gboh

Link, as usual, was unimpressed. Maybe? Zelda could never tell. His arms were straight at his sides, and his eyes darted around the room. She saw his gaze drift down from her safflina specimens to her silent princess pots on the table. 

"Don't touch anything, please," she said, though she doubted she needed to tell him that. When she had asked him to choose between some gowns she wanted to wear for the reopening of the Coliseum, in typical Link fashion he had acted like touching the fabric would burn him. "Do you like it?"

Link nodded. 

"It used to be the castle physician's," Zelda explained. "Mother decided his services were of better use downstairs, and left this tower empty. Quite convenient, if I do say so myself." She gestured for him to come closer to the desk. When he did, she revealed two bottles of similar size. 

"Do you remember that salesman from the other day?" 

"The one that tried to scam you?" Link asked.

Zelda nodded. "I considered his proposition, and I would like to conduct a trial to definitively prove that he is lying to his customers…I've studied the elixir, and it does seem to have some of the common components of potent ones, fungal concentration aside." 

Link stopped staring at the potions, and switched his attention to Zelda's open diary, leaning over to read. 

"Don't look at that." Zelda slammed her hand onto the diary before dragging it over to herself. 

Link straightened, and watched his shoes instead. "Sorry." 

Zelda took a moment to scan the pages. Something—her finger laid over the paper, concealing a word— is about to happen. It wasn't a bad page, certainly not one of the ones where she said she hated him, but she loathed the idea of him reading something so private, of seeing her fears poured out onto the page.

 "Anyhow," she cleared her throat and snapped the book shut, "since we both have precious little free time before the pilgrimage, I think we should attempt this trial now." Zelda held out a bottle for Link to take. 

Link did so, then waited for more instructions. 

"Drink half of it, please. And then— what do you think would be a good test of vitality?" 

Link downed it like a shot of liquor, then dropped down onto the floor to do pushups. 

Zelda snorted, and crouched down to watch. "How long can you exercise like that?" 

Link frowned. "Uh, highest I've gone— one seventy five? Two hundred?" 

Zelda studied the floor, then let herself down low with one arm, careful not to touch it and dirty herself. For a knight, perhaps that would do, but not for a princess. Then she pushed herself up. "Hm!" 

A smile cracked on Link's face just long enough for Zelda to see. "No, not like that. Like—" His movement slowed, and he puffed as he demonstrated. 

Zelda frowned, and scooted her feet back, slowly attempting the move once again. It wasn't terribly hard until she had to push herself back up. "I think the floor is too dirty." 

Link grunted a reply. His arms shook as he continued his exercise. Sweat ran down his forehead, and his jaw was tense. Zelda watched him go until his last slow, agonizing push off the floor. As he let himself down, his arms gave out. He faceplanted onto the floor. "Hundred n' two," he mumbled between breaths. 

"Well, you are in armor, not to mention the sword. Do you feel yourself being revitalized more quickly?" 

"No, Princess." Link's cough was muffled by the floor. 

Hm. That was the placebo. "When do you think you could try again?" 

"Three hours." He strained to push himself up, and Zelda waddled closer to him, holding her hand out for him to grasp. Link didn't take it, resorting to waiting a few more moments before getting up himself. 

"You're dusty now," Zelda said. 

Link brushed dust off his uniform furiously, then shook off the end of his Champion's Sash. His knees still had a coating of dirt, but after several attempts at scratching or shaking it off, Link gave up. 

"Missed a spot!" Zelda swiped at the cloth under one of his pauldrons. Link startled, but when Zelda pulled back and smiled at him, he smiled back weakly, revealing the little gap in between his front teeth that he liked to hide.

"Very well then," Zelda said, striding out of her study. "Three hours." 

"...Three and a half?" 

Zelda turned around, watching Link catch up to her, then stood primly several steps behind. "Three and a half?"

Link nodded. "To make sure the muscles are in better shape." 

"That would be very close to the time for my birthday dinner," Zelda mused. "Best to wait. I can take the potions with us, and we'll try tomorrow instead." 

Link's eyes brightened, and he nodded in agreement. 

"Excellent!" Zelda returned to the study, and took the half-empty placebo and the real stuff. Then she skipped back out of the room, took her key, and locked the door. She expected she wouldn't be returning for a while.

Notably, Kakariko Village still follows an older law concerning the proper operation and construction of windmills. According to an older historical text, the diameter of the mill always must be crossable in fourteen steps, or, in the case of a larger mill being needed, a multiple of fourteen. The only reason I am aware of the law is that it was abolished three four hundred years ago for being simple superstition. I know that the windmill follows it because I am unfathomably bored. 

The gears scraped and groaned against each other in an uncomfortable cadence. Zelda tucked her knees in closer to her body. Despite the difficulties of balancing herself on a stool, she preferred writing like this over attempting on a flat lap. Impa had given her a journal to write in, and she was attempting to document the current state of Kakariko. 

The miller had been running around and glancing at things in what she assumed was an attempt to look busy, before rushing out the door to get something. Zelda had tried to look relaxed and ready to talk casually with him, but by the time he squeaked out an explanation of how the millstones turned Zelda decided his nerves were getting the better of him, and decided not to bother him. 

Paya, too, was off in a corner, fidgeting with a piece of her hair. On most of Zelda's excursions out of the house, Paya had requested to come along, but whenever Zelda tried to strike up a conversation, she quickly found a way to stop responding. She would stare off into the distance, talking to no one except the occasional villager that passed by, and never for long. 

"Hey, Blondie."

Zelda's ear twitched, and she tore her eyes away from the page. 

The speaker was a green rito with a peach colored face. He carried a large bag. Far off to the west, Zelda had scarcely thought about the Rito Tribe's fate, and here one was. Gawking at her. 

"Blondie. Have you seen a Rito before?" 

The wound on her face stung as heat rose to it. She couldn't help but stare; this was hardly her fault! "Of course I have. May I ask who you are?" 

"A customer of the mill. It doesn't look like you're a customer or a Sheikah."

"I don't see why I should tell you, if you're going to be rude," Zelda replied. 

"Rude? I just asked who ya were, I wasn't trying to be nasty."

The miller opened the door. "Oh, how may I help you, sir?" 

"I need to get this ground for a customer of mine," the Rito said, flinging his bag off his shoulder. 

The miller opened the bag. "How fine would you like it to be?" 

"Fine as you can make it," the Rito replied. "Who's this girl, by the way? An assistant? She won't tell me." 

"Sir, I think you should treat her with more respect. This is the Princess of Hyrule herself, after all." 

"The who huh what?"

"The Princess of Hyrule," Zelda said. "I suppose you haven't noticed the deactivation of the Guardians, or monsters no longer on the roads, or the lack of dark looming fog around Hyrule Castle." 

"Or the earthquake a week ago!" the miller added. 

"Yeah, I noticed, but how was I supposed to know it was because of some random Hylian chick?" the Rito said, waving at Zelda. 

"At the very least you could have been more respectful from the beginning," Zelda said. She sighed. "It's alright, I'm not particularly bothered. Pleased to meet you." 

"Pleased to meet you," the Rito said, though he did not look pleased. "And apologies, I guess. What brings you?" 

"Kakariko is the safest place for Her Highness to be right now," the miller said. "She's been carefully studying the current conditions of her land so she can return it to its former glory from a century ago."

"...Ya lost me."

"Before the Calamity, Hyrule was—" she couldn't say it was the most prosperous age, nor the least war-torn, and certainly not the most peaceful— "more united, with a proper ruler, laws, ways of helping the poor, grand cities, a military…I plan to bring this back." 

"Gonna be tricky, doing that all on your own," the Rito said. 

"She'll have help," the miller said. "And, if you want, you can help too." 

"Politics aren't for me, sorry." He patted his bag of grain, and pulled money out of a pouch on his hip, giving it to the miller before strutting towards the door. "I should be back in about six hours. Will it be ready then?"

"Should be." 

"Perfect. Thank you." The Rito shut the door.

A few moments passed, before the miller cleared his throat. "It's hard to reason with outsiders sometimes."

Zelda nodded, and picked her journal up. "I was about to leave anyhow." 

Paya stirred, looking up from the floor, and followed Zelda to the door.

When Zelda left the mill, the Rito was gone, not a trace or a feather left behind for the memory of him. Zelda gazed up at the cliffs on both sides of Kakariko Village, then past the farmlands and into the little divot where a gate was. Then she strode down to the main path into the center of the village. 

Kakariko is rarely idle, she scribbled in her journal, gripping it in her bad hand as she wrote. All denizens are very industrious, each having their roles in upkeep of the farmlands, caring for animals, mending, weaving, and guarding the borders of the village, among other things. Rarely in my travels have I seen such devotion to good work. 

A Sheikah girl with her hair bunched in braids stood next to the town's main well, gazing down as she pushed her glasses up onto her face. When she noticed Zelda, she dashed over to a bucket of water she had set on the ground and hoisted it up, giving Zelda a wave and a grin as she puttered out of sight. 

I plan to visit Zora's Domain, as soon as Impa permits me to leave. She has insisted upon sending out warriors and spies to discover the Yiga Clan's whereabouts before she allows me to travel.

"How was your walk?" Impa asked as Zelda stomped inside. She tapped her boots against the mat on the ground before removing them and setting them on a shoerack. Recent rains had made the footpaths muddy and filled with potholes. Zelda brushed away some flyaway hair from her face, a layer of fine dust collecting on her fingers. High time for a hot bath. Hylia knew she needed one after that nonsense. 

"Fine," Zelda replied.

Impa squinted. "Did Paya find you?"

Zelda nodded, then glanced at the door. "I think she went somewhere else." 

"Ah. Perhaps she's talking to Dorian."

"Perhaps." Zelda frowned.

"Is something wrong?" 

"Not really." Zelda sighed. 

"You can tell me if anything upsets you. I want to make sure you're happy here." 

"Well, I suppose I don't feel like I'm doing anything of use here. I also don't understand why Paya needs to follow me. The village is safe, right?" 

"Kakariko is very safe. We've strengthened our borders significantly." 

"Then I shouldn't need someone to follow me, correct…?"

"That," Impa replied, "was, hm. In hopes that your leadership skills might rub off a little, I suppose. That, and I know the villagers here can be a little formal. I was hoping you would enjoy each other's company."

"We really haven't talked much. She keeps avoiding me, I think. I don't know why." 

A flash of blue light streaked past Zelda, and she jumped back. The light settled in Impa's lap, and unfolded, fading into an open letter. 

"Ah. My sister reports good news," Impa said, picking up the letter and squinting at it. "She's acquired the Sheikah Slate. Attempting a…tear down of it. I hope she doesn't break it, goodness." 

"Teardowns were standard procedure for any devices researchers found," Zelda said. "Generally they're not a damaging part of the reverse engineering process as long as it's done carefully. Purah didn't do it earlier because– well, I wanted to look at it, and there wasn't time to give it to her." That, and the place it had been excavated from had designated it for the chosen hero, and they had been in close proximity. 

"She's asking if you would like to know anything about it, or want updates on her progress," Impa said. 

Zelda's eyes widened. "Oh, yes, please. Didn't she learn how to upload runes to it? Do you think she'll try and develop copies of the slate where–oh, and its storage capacity…Did she say what she's going to investigate after the teardown? I had a theory that the Slate contains some kind of internal flame that allows it to draw power, like the Guardians do, except there is a more complex system of runics that allows it to complete different tasks and compute things. But that doesn't explain the bombs. How would it generate enough energy to create bombs? I wish it had these abilities when I was using it…" 

"Why don't you write that down? I'll send it to her." 

Zelda opened her journal, then squinted. "Is there anything else I should be doing?"

"What else would you like to do?"

"I suppose I should be focusing on restoration efforts, if I can."

"There is much to be done before we're ready to focus on restoration." 

"I know. I— well, I met a Rito at the mill, and he didn't have much confidence in me at all." 

"It's been a week. Try waiting for one hundred and four years," Impa said, chuckling. "Things will take time to fall into place, but they will. Have faith."

"I will try," Zelda sighed.

"I could also send a letter to Robbie, if you like. I'm sure he'd love to tell you about his recent discoveries." 

Zelda's eyebrows raised. "I could ask him about the Yiga knife, actually. I'm curious about it."

"Good. Now, go write to them." 

Zelda jumped up, and began walking to the stairs, then paused. "Oh, could someone draw me a bath?" 

"Of course, Princess." Impa paused, and reached for her cane. "I'll find Paya."

"Does she wander off frequently?" 

"Every so often. It's what young people do best, losing focus." Impa chuckled, and pushed herself up, taking her cane in one hand. 

"I suppose so," Zelda replied. When Impa strolled to the door, she frowned. "Wouldn't you prefer it if I went to find her?"

"Hm? No, I'll be fine. My joints have always stayed strong. Paya makes me a good potion for them." 

"The cane's—"

"For my old injury. And a little support, just in case." 

"You said you would seek a healer." 

"I did," Impa said, sliding open the door. "But healers cannot change the past. And, for as much pain as my body has caused me, I am happy."

When Impa left, Zelda finally trotted upstairs. Since claiming the room for herself, she had moved some of the trinkets on the desk over so she could stack more books on top of it. She pushed some of them aside, then began scribbling down a letter for Purah. As she wrote, even more possibilities came to her mind. What if they could develop a way to extract the capabilities of the runes into smaller devices? What if they were able to find a way to use the teleportation pads from the shrines? If the cut-off pad from earlier was any indication, the Sheikah definitely knew more about it than they were letting on. Purah might be able to tell her. 

"Cado should be back tomorrow, if all is well," Impa said as she walked back into the house. "The hero has been returned to Hateno safely, and Purah's acquired the Slate." 

"That's good," Paya replied, her voice quiet as usual. "I should get to that bath." 

"Just a moment, dear. I had a question."

Silence for a few moments. Zelda strained her ears to hear. 

"...The princess is slightly concerned about you. Is everything alright?"

"Oh. Yes, everything is good." 

"She's restless here. I'd hoped you would get along well, and ease her worries."

"Of course, Grandmother. I just don't know what to say to her…hearing about her in all your stories and all…"

"Well, you certainly had a lot to say to Link," Impa rebutted. 

"It's different now," Paya insisted. "What if she doesn't like me?"

Impa sighed. "Our fates do hang on her favor. It's a hefty responsibility. But I trust you, and I trust her. Do you think my faith lies with you two for no reason?"

"Of course not, it's just—"

"You shouldn't hesitate so much, dear, it's bad for your nerves. Now, go tend to her bath."

"Yes, I will." 

"You're both such mature young women now. I'm sure you'll find something in common."

Zelda unstuck herself from the floorboards and hopped back up onto the stool, leaning her head on one hand as Paya knocked on the door. "You may come in." 

Paya grunted, straining for something, before the door swung open and she arrived hoisting a bathtub in both arms. "My deepest apologies for the wait, Princess." 

"Apology accepted," Zelda replied. "Where were you?" 

"Outside." 

Probably not worth asking. "Oh." 

Zelda let her work, and continued with the letter. Her hand kept stopping as she wrote, and her mind wandered to the conversation downstairs. Even Impa's granddaughter was intimidated by her. 

"Can I get you anything else?" Paya asked.

Zelda put her pen down. Ink had leaked out into a small puddle over her letter. Looking back, she saw the bath filled with hot water. Paya held a towel, soap, and other amenities for her bath. "No, thank you."  

Paya bowed her head, and placed the items where Zelda could reach them from the bath. Then she stepped back, and started for the door—

"Wait," Zelda said. 

Paya stopped, hand on the door. Her head tilted softly. "Yes?"

"I wanted to thank you for being my attendant. I understand you likely weren't taught anything about being a lady's maid, and you've done very impressively."

"Grandmother taught me some things. Just in case," Paya said. 

Before Zelda could reply, she had left. She felt a tingle in her chest, but she swallowed it down, tapping on the desk to regain her focus. At least a good bath would help her ease her worries. 

The bath didn't help. After about five minutes in the tub the hot water made her entire right side itch and burn, and she had to exit the tub to even begin washing her hair. At the very least it was short enough that it didn't require much washing. 

Impa was cryptic about how she sent letters to Purah and Robbie, but after some prodding, she relented, and showed her a bottle labeled "Plum Jam." Special ink, she said. Writing runics in it would allow one to cast the spell written onto the object. 

As Impa showed her how she wrote the spell on the paper, Paya came in with a basket of laundry. When she slid the door closed, she paused, leaning forward ever so slightly on one toe to see what Zelda and Impa were doing. Then she noticed Zelda watching her. Their eyes met for a moment, before Paya turned her head, and rushed into the back of the house. 

Robbie was the first to write back. Princess! Long time no see! Or write, but the details aren't important. Congratulations on sealing the darkness!

We've made good progress with research over the past century. Since excavation hasn't been an option, me and Purah have spent most of our time trying to develop things from scratch, like we used to back in the day. Purah will tell you all about her research.

 I've developed a simple and snazzy way to make ancient materials! I'm calling her my ancient oven, and boy, is she a beaut. Been working on her longer than I've known my wife. Purah's assistant and me used her to develop his ancient turret replica project, and she can make any ancient weapon you could ask for. Let me know if there's anything you'd want!

As for your Yiga knife! Their current leader has a large sword that looks like ancient tech, so this might be another model. Valuable stuff! We can use it to figure out how far along they are with their research. Impa should have some of Purah's old tools hanging around, so check that out before trying to pry it open. 

If it's not too much trouble, send me a copy of any teardown sketches that you make! Is there anything you've noticed about it yet? 

Keep me updated!

Robbie, Director of the Akkala Ancient Tech Lab

"Ah, the tools." Impa shuffled to the back room, and returned with tools wrapped in a dirty cloth. 

"I never thought anyone would come back for them, but I'm glad I kept them," Impa said. "Purah may take some time to reply. She's probably distracted by that Sheikah Slate." 

Zelda nodded, and went back upstairs. The bathtub hadn't been removed, so she stepped around them as she ambled towards the knife. She hadn't touched it since she put it near her bed. A small bump in the handle pushed inwards under pressure, and a portion of the knife flipped out. 

The bright orange blade materialized. Her breath stopped. She had to wait for several moments before she could slide her finger away from the button on the hilt. Zelda swallowed. She put it down on the desk, and began sketching it in her journal. 

No safety precautions on the button, and it's quite touchy. Hinge near the center that flips out when the button is pressed. Activates the knife?

Drawing had never been her strong suit. After several wobbly sketches of the blade in pen (she couldn't hold it correctly now, for some reason), she decided what she had was "good enough," and moved on. 

Seam along the bottom looks like it opens to the main board, she wrote. 

 She struggled with the button a few times before it closed, and turned off. Then she shakily took one of Purah's tools– a screwdriver with detachable metal bits– inserted what looked like the appropriate bit into the handle, and began unscrewing. As soon as she had loosened it, it dropped out onto the table. Zelda squinted at the angle of the second screw, and realized it was ajar.

 Whoever made this has practically jammed the screws in…

Easier for her to see the board, she supposed. With the screws removed, she tugged the handle apart, and revealed the innards of the blade. 

Despite having never worked with ancient weaponry, the components were familiar enough that she recognized some of them at a first glance. Zelda's finger brushed against the tiny core just across from the button. It was the heart of any piece of ancient machinery, supplying it with the power of blue fire– this one in particular was smaller and flatter than any of the ones she had seen before. That made sense; it was only used for generating a knife blade, not powering the complex movements of a Guardian. 

Then she glanced down, following the traces leading from the core to the runics that made the energy blade. She squinted. It had an absurd number of resistors jammed onto every free portion of the board. Resistors were responsible for limiting the energy flow throughout, and would dissipate power. There wasn't a null spell— those would prevent excess energy from flowing around the board, and were a general safety precaution used in all of her past research. 

"Messy," she grumbled, reaching for her journal and pen again, when she heard a clink, and turned to where she had kept the screws. One was missing.

 She scrambled to get out of her chair, when she heard it again. "Bother it all," she hissed. Zelda must have kicked it on her way down. Getting down onto her knees, she scanned the floor for any signs of the screw. 

"Where…" Knots riddled the floorboards, but her eyes settled on one underneath the desk. Its shape had shifted when she had bent down. A magic illusion? She hadn't seen one in years. Zelda crawled towards the knot, careful to keep her head down, then ran her fingers across the knot. They went through the dark, twisted wood, and she could feel a small hole in the floorboard. That, she admitted, was clever. Wiggling her fingers around in the hole, she felt the smooth surface of paper, then metal, but it rolled away before she could grasp it. 

If this was hidden for a reason, she assumed there was a way inside. She tugged on the edges of the hole. With a puff of plaster, a floorboard came loose, its edge hidden by the illusion. Underneath it, the screw sat on a pile of papers and books. Zelda picked up a folded letter, and began to read.

Dearest Riju, 

I'm sorry I haven't written back recently. It's been getting more difficult to find time to deliver letters to the nearby stable. 

Who was 'Riju?' That didn't sound like a Sheikah name, or even a Hylian one. Zelda tore her eyes away from the paper, but they settled on it again, and she read more. 

I hope you're still doing well. Have you found good homes for Patricia's pups yet? I hope I'm not too late to give my opinion on your problem…I don't think you should discourage the little girl from her passion, but maybe there is some way to compromise between the elder's advice and your own feelings. I do it often with Grandmother. You have so much more experience with this than I do…take it with a pinch of skepticism!

I don't know if I'll be able to travel to see you anytime soon. Link and I had an argument.

Your friend, 

Paya of Kakariko 

The door creaked open, and Paya slipped through, humming to herself. Zelda froze. Guilt stabbed her, and she folded the letter before placing it on one of the books.

"Did she leave?" Paya mumbled. She put the bucket she was carrying into the bathwater. Slipping past the desk, she opened a latch on the window and tugged on the windowpane, dislodging it before poking half her body out of it like they weren't on the second story. 

"Hm." Paya twisted herself around so her back faced the floor, and stood up on the windowsill. Then she pulled herself up onto the roof. 

Zelda scrunched her nose in astonishment. The window maneuver at least gave her the opportunity to escape, so she put the floorboard back and slipped downstairs.

-

Evening fell, and after a quiet dinner with Impa, Zelda tried to sleep. Her burns still were sensitive from the bath, and now the heat from the blankets made them itch, so she shut her eyes and slept on her back, spreading her limbs out to cool them. It didn't help. 

Her mind wandered. She remembered the gentle squeeze of her father's hand as he led her to a waiting crowd. "My little sunshine," he said, "they'll love you. They need hope so desperately." 

She remembered Celessa's awe of her, not so long ago, how she saw Zelda as something divine, and how quickly the illusion had broken. It would always break, eventually. 

Zelda needed air. She lunged for the latch on the window, shaking the old wood until it opened. A cool night wind soothed her face. Ten thousand frogs sang a monotonous chorus from the pond, and the crickets harmonized. Flopping back down onto her pillow, she tossed to one side, clutching her shoulders. 

She wrinkled her nose. Now the frogs were too loud. There weren't any candles in her room, but she knew Impa had them downstairs. She'd borrow one, and work on the knife instead of sleeping. Stumbling out the door, her eyes narrowed at the faint light from downstairs. Impa's shadow laid against the floor. 

Zelda weighed her options. She could ask for a candle, but she didn't want Impa to pry about why she couldn't sleep. Better to wait for her to go to bed. It was likely she'd retire soon; she was, after all, an old woman now, and didn't old women like to go to bed early? Careful not to make them groan under her weight, Zelda sat down on the steps and watched the shadow, but it didn't budge. The infernal sound of the frogs pierced the air, quieter now, but the lack of any other sound made it stronger.

 Impa stirred, and grunted. Zelda's heart leapt for a moment before Impa settled down into her seat again, muttering to herself as Zelda heard the sound of a page being turned. 

"Just go to sleep!" Zelda hissed, but Impa didn't answer. Whatever. She gave up, and retreated back into her room. Moonbeams shone brightly from the window, and the frogs croaked louder than ever now. 

She stuck her head out the window, and let the cool night air brush across her face. Then she looked up at the roof. Zelda had always been a good climber. When she was young, she had made it her goal to scale trees in her mother's garden, and she had succeeded, after a few falls and bruises. The roof was covered in moss, with blades of grass and little wildflowers poking out. Sheikah rooftop architecture had never occurred to her as an interesting area of study, but this intrigued her. Either way, it appeared grabbable. 

Twisting around, she sat on top of the windowsill and pushed herself up. Her fingers dug into the rooftop, and she swung her leg into a foothold. The roof's covering split beneath her fingers, so she pushed them further in before pulling up. 

Her head breached the top of the roof. Before she could steady herself, the moss tore. Her hands slipped, and she pitched backwards towards the ground far below.

A calloused hand grasped hers, and her body jolted to a stop. Zelda gripped the hand fast, and pulled back up, clambering onto the roof and spluttering. "Thank Hylia you were— oh."

She met Paya's wide eyes. Zelda shut her mouth. 

"Hello," Paya said, letting go of Zelda's hand. "Are you okay?" 

"Perfectly alright, thanks to you," she replied, brushing clumps of moss off of her borrowed nightgown. "It's—well, I couldn't—I couldn't sleep."

"Grandmother always keeps some chamomile tea in the kitchen," Paya offered, but Zelda shook her head. 

"I'd rather not draw any attention to myself. If you could just go back to whatever you were doing, I'll sit on the roof for a little while, provided it doesn't disturb you." 

Paya frowned, but nodded. She crawled up to the very top of the roof, and sat, watching the village below. 

The frogs had quieted down a little. Zelda sat in a patch of soft moss, its coolness soothing the itchy feeling from her burns. Fireflies hovered over her, their lanterns flashing with a message she couldn't decipher. She could see almost all of Kakariko from here— scarce few houses had light anymore, and the ones that did blinked out within a few minutes. Castle Town had always had travelers and traffic, even during the darkest hours of the night, but the village stayed still, rested for the coming sun. 

"It's beautiful," Zelda said. "Do you sit here often?" 

"Pretty often," Paya said.

"You don't—" Zelda stopped herself, not wanting Paya to realize how she had found out that the roof was climbable. "How did you get up here?" 

"There's a ladder on the other side of the house." She paused. "You probably shouldn't climb up through the window unless you know what you're doing."

"I like climbing! I used to climb trees all the time, to escape my guards," Zelda insisted. "It was a slight miscalculation." 

"You could have seriously hurt yourself."

"Well— usually I don't miscalculate. But I will use your ladder."

"Thank you."

The two went silent for a minute, taking in a chill night breeze. Mist swirled down from the cliffs and through the streets of Kakariko. 

Zelda glanced down at her borrowed nightgown covered in dirt and grass stains. Oops. "My room used to be yours."

Paya nodded. 

"Where do you stay now?"

"With Grandmother. It's sort of nostalgic for me."

Zelda blinked. "Nostalgic?" 

Paya stared at Zelda, contemplating something, before taking a deep breath and continuing. "It used to be my mother's room. When— um, my mother died when I was eleven, I didn't want to stay there, and so I slept beside Grandmother." 

"Oh." For some reason, it had never occurred to her that it was odd that Paya's mother and father were nowhere to be seen. Her heart sank deep into her belly, fluttering there as she thought. "My grandmother helped me through something like that." 

"When your— um, Grandmother told me that you lost your—"

"Yes," Zelda said. "I was ten years old."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up." 

Zelda shook her head. "No, it's alright. My grandmother loved to embroider. She taught me how. A little work keeps your mind off the bad things, she'd always say."

"That does seem wise," Paya said. 

"She was very wise." Zelda sighed. "I miss her." 

They fell quiet again. Normally Zelda would have wanted to fill the silence, but instead, she watched the fireflies. 

Paya sat above her, unmoving. Though Link had always stood stiffer, he had always preferred to listen rather than speak. When he did say something, it gave the impression that he had deliberated over it for some time, though he didn't strike Zelda as a very contemplative person. Paya, however—she wasn't sure. 

Zelda glanced down at a small house close to the center of town, with a little coop. She admired its quaintness from up high, before she glimpsed a shadow snaking from around a corner. A massive insect crawled through the street, headed for the village's center. 

"What's that?" She pointed at it. 

"Hm?" Paya followed her hand, and squinted. "That— um, centipedes don't usually get that big." 

"It looks like Malice," Zelda said. 

Paya frowned. "I've never seen anything like it before." 

It crawled up the well, its long antennae feeling its way forward before it slithered down into the dark.

"Why would it go into the well?" Zelda asked. 

"I don't know," Paya said. "Maybe it's thirsty?" She stood up, and began walking towards the back of the house. 

Zelda followed her. "Where are you going?" 

"To investigate." Paya began climbing down a ladder leaning against the roof. 

"Would it be alright if I went with you?" 

Paya hesitated. "...It's late." 

"I couldn't sleep anyhow. Besides, I've been craving a little adventure." Zelda climbed down the ladder after Paya had stepped off. The ground was cool and dewy underneath her feet. 

"I should get my kodachi," Paya said. "If you can sneak past Grandmother, then meet me by the well in ten minutes."