Another explosion sent a rumble through the ground. A gust of hot air blasted them. As their hearing slowly returned they heard roaring and mad laughter.

“D’ya really think it’s alright to leave ‘im out there?” Digger asked, although he wasn’t concerned enough to risk peering over the rock they’d huddled behind.

“You said you wanted a distraction,” Catfish answered.

Momo nodded. “Couldn’t have picked anyone better! Besides, he sounds like he’s having fun!”

Worse come to worst, it would only be another reset. And if any of them wouldn’t mind being burned to a crisp, it’d be him… Digger shook his head. Every second he left a man fighting alone made his heart beat quicker, twisting in his chest as old guilts threatened to rear their ugly heads. “We need a plan. Fast. Bomb arrows?”

“If I had them, I would have used them,” Catfish growled.

“My bow broke!” Momo added.

Digger sighed. He absently rubbed the jade ring on his finger. Things will work out. “I’ve got a few shockos, but they’re like tickles to t’bastard.”

“It’s a silver hinox, what do you expect?” Catfish punched the rock. “Fucker just won’t die.”

“Maybe we can force its eye open and then Stasis it-”

“Its’t forcin’ part that we’re stuck on,” Digger pointed out. “W’need enough damage to drop ‘is hand, then we hafta open that damn eye. T’stompin’ means we can’t get close to him, otherwise-”

There’s a cry of pain that quickly gets louder as Fireball flies through the air to bounce off a tree and land in a heap in front of them, smouldering slightly.

“-otherwise, that happens,” Digger finished. “Well time’s up, boys. Looks like we’re goin’ with my plan.”

“What’s your plan?” Catfish asked with trepidation, while Momo punched the air in a welcome display of enthusiasm.

Digger grinned. “I’m thinkin’ of it.”

“Down here, ugly!”

The hinox turned to the little Hylian in his strange squeaky skin. He was holding a bow, but that didn’t bother the hinox. Almost mockingly slowly it raised its warty hand to cover its most vulnerable part – even if the Hylian had fired it wouldn’t have mattered, as its eye was already protected by a thick, clear lid.

Which was why it didn’t see the boomerang fly towards it. The hinox roared in pain as the weapon sliced deep gashes in his skin. It pulled its hand away instinctively. There was a twang. Three shock arrows found their mark. Its eyelid protected the monster from almost all of the damage, although the yellow light left it temporarily blinded.

Which was why it didn’t see Digger, jumping into the air and flipping onto his shield. It didn’t see Momo swing his hammer, catch the shield as it soared overhead, and send it flying. Didn’t see Digger leap, boomerang back in hand, ready to strike.

The hinox heard him, though.

“From Fireball, with interest!”

The boomerang’s blade, with all if Digger’s weight behind it, dug through the lid and into the soft eyeball beneath. The hinox staggered backwards. Digger kicked off, pulling the boomerang out so that the hinox’s eye juices ran freely down its face. It screamed and flailed. Its unarmoured belly lay exposed.

Bittersweet tapped him on the shoulder one day, as Digger finished cleaning the drawers they kept their surplus clothing in. Digger turned, smiling. He didn’t smile when he saw what Bittersweet held in his hands.

“Oh, that? Just put it back where ya found it,” he told the man. The drawers were already free of any dust, but Digger kept wiping the wood, the rag leaving damp circles that quickly faded to nothingness.

Bittersweet tapped his shoulder again. He placed the music box on a windowsill and said, “I found it behind the books and things you’ve gotten from the villagers. You couldn’t even see it on the shelf.”

“Put it back where ya found it,” Digger repeated. “Exactly as you found it. Hey, it’s getting late, maybe ya won’t mind seeing what’s fer sale at the market?”

Digger kept idly dragging the rag across the drawers until he heard the front door close. Then he threw himself into frenzied cleaning, moping and dusting and scrubbing until his arms ached. Yet even with the ruckus, he still heard the song.

“When did you buy it?” Sweets asked. “We’ve barely been back.”

He’d gestured towards the corner of the shelf that Digger kept cluttered. Digger smiled. “What do you mean?”

“The pretty box. With the golden stick and the emeralds.”

Digger shrugged. “Long ago.”

Sweets frowned. “What does it do?”

“Nothing,” Digger answered. “It’s completely useless.”

Sweets had always had a knack for knowing when he lied. He doesn’t comment.

Although, Digger thinks, he hadn’t lied at all.

The glow of the radiant armour made it impossible to sneak around at night. The bokoblins had seen them – or rather, seen Digger – from afar and charged, the five of them shrieking as they waved their weapons overhead. It hadn’t been a fair fight.

After all, they hadn’t realised that there were two chosen heroes running around.

Digger swirled the last of the hearty elixir around in its bottle. “Ya sure ya don’t need any more, Peaches?”

The newcomer shook his head empathetically, his bangs swaying with the movement. Digger had called him Peaches for his bubbliness, for the way he’d bounced from monster to monster so confidently, a smile on his face. Considering the situation, his cheerfulness was borderline unnatural.

Or perhaps that was because Digger missed another; one who wore the same face but never spoke a word, who fought with caution and a dancer’s grace, whose smile was soft and small and sweet.

Digger shrugged and downed the last of the elixir. He made a face at the bitter taste of it on his tongue. Still, it restored his strength, allowing him to push himself to his feet and stretch. “Not much further now, Peaches. Monsters in this world are freaky strong, so it’s best we don’t linger.”

His companion nodded. “But… you know… with the clothes you’re wearing…”

Digger winced. It was true. “Right. Give me a moment, will ya? See to t’horses. There’s an apple tree somewhere back there…”

‘Peaches’ nodded and headed towards the copse of trees they’d passed earlier. Digger took his Sheikah Slate from his belt and flicked through the options to find a more appropriate outfit for night travel.

But he was too hasty and found himself staring at the last menu of the Slate. And he found his eyes drawn to the last slot, to that little gold-and-white box sitting so innocently on the screen.

‘Peaches’ returned to find Digger in an outfit of red and blue and gold, white gloves on his hands and white boots on his feet. It’s still a flashy outfit. Despite the gashes and the missing patch in the cap. He doesn’t comment on it.

They mounted the horses that the bokoblins had so kindly brought to them and set off underneath the light of the red moon. The voice that Digger had come to expect during these nights was, as always, silent. Instead, he heard the song.

The last note faded away like mist in the morning. Sweets let out a quiet sigh. Digger smiled. “Beautiful, ain’t it? Do ya know the song?”

Sweets shook his head. Digger wondered if he’d never heard it, if maybe it hadn’t existed in ‘his’ Hyrule. Digger closed his eyes and leaned back against the trunk of the palm. Here, the air smelled of the ocean. In the evening it smelled of fish and spice, in the day of baked sand as the sun glared down bright and warm. But in the still hours of dawn when only the slightest suggestion of light peered out from behind the grey horizon the air was fresh and clean. To Digger, it smelled of peace. Perhaps that was a maudlin thought, but he breathed it in, the morning air of sea and dew and the scent of Sweets beside him.

And he began to sing.

By the third verse, Sweets’ hand reached out to his. He laced his fingers against Digger’s. His touch was so very warm.

By the fifth he’d shuffled close, so he could rest his head on Digger’s shoulder. His hair brushed against Digger’s face, tickling his scar on his cheek.

By the final verse he was running the fingers of his other hand through Digger’s hair, just the way he knew Digger liked it. When Digger opened his eyes he saw exactly what he’d expected.

“There’s no need for tears, Sweets,” he murmured, brushing them away with a callused thumb. “I ain’t that pretty a songbird.”

“Did she give it to you?” Sweets asked. The pain in his eyes hurt. The shadow of acceptance there was agony.

Digger shook his head. “Wrong way around. Do ya know what the song’s about?”

“Love.”

“There’s many kinds of love.” Dawn was well and truly on its way now. The sky blushed pink over the sea, as if the sun was a lover’s touch. Digger pulled Sweets close and his husband tucked his head beneath Digger’s chin, bending is head so that he could listen to Digger’s heartbeat. Watching the dawn, Digger explained, “It tells of a woman ransoming her love for impossible tasks. A shirt without seams, land atop the waves, reaping a harvest with leather… it’s a very pretty way of saying ‘no’, I suppose. Just enough hope to keep a man trying.”

Sweets squeezed his hand.  

Digger idly turned the music box’s handle. “I found it on top of my Sheikah Slate. I thought the rest of ya did too, thought ya just didn’t want t’mention it. Not sure when I realised I was the only one. I didn’t remember why it was important when I first saw it. But I felt it. I remember looking at it and feeling the first… first real emotion since waking up. I was confused and scared and alone ‘cept for her voice. But when I saw this, that was when I first… got a glimpse of who I was.”

His husband lifted his head then, watching Digger warily. “What do you mean?”

Digger laughed. “The moment I picked it up I felt so sad. Just angry and disappointed, and I knew it wasn’t because of the Calamity. When I heard the song the words came back to me. I was crying before I even found my clothes. And I didn’t know why.”

“Did you ever find out?”

“Yeah. In the Coliseum ruins, right after I killed the lynel at the bottom. That moment when I stood there, its blood still on my sword, it came back to me. The crowds, cheering. The banners. And her. She was…” Digger couldn’t stop the smile on his face, at the memory of a memory. “…radiant.”

Sweets recoiled then, but Digger reached out to grab his wrist. He kept his grip gentle, rubbing soothing circles over the sensitive skin there. The man’s face is softer than Digger’s own and unmarred, his skin paler. And his eyes were softer too. There was so much warmth, so much kindness in that gaze. So much patience.

He gives and gives. Everything I ask for. Even the things I haven’t. That brings a smile to Digger’s lips. And then suddenly he can’t look at Sweets anymore; here in the light of the rising sun with the sea breeze ruffling his hair, his cheeks rosy from the morning chill, his beauty is dazzling. It brings tears to Digger’s eyes.

Soft hands wipe away his tears. It’s Digger’s turn to lean into his touch, to guide his hands around him so that Digger can murmur his next words against his beloved’s chest, right above his heartbeat. “Before the Calamity, the kingdom was magnificent. The Hylians, they… we had so much. Feasts and festivals and temples and cities. Gardens full of fountains and so many flowers, every single flower in Hyrule. There’s dishes I don’t even know the name of any more, I just remember the smells and the colours and the taste. And there were the knights. The tourneys, the jousts. Archery contests. Horseback races. Duels and melees and even fights against monsters captured from the wild.”

Digger couldn’t stop the sob that wracked his body, the way his voice broke as he continued, “The cheering. I remember the cheering. The way people looked at me and saw… hope. Honour. A hero. That memory… if I’d known what it would do to me I’d have never gone there.”

Sweets pulled away the tie that bound his messy hair together. Silently, he begins to work, brushing out the strands, separating them into workable sections.

“I don’t remember all of it. But I know why I was there. I… I think I proposed to her the moment I came of age, the day I was made a true knight. It was a stupid thing to do. I’m pretty sure we’re all older than her, in every world.”

Sweets started on the first braid. He worked with a steady rhythm, slender fingers guiding the strands in their dance, over and under and around.

“And she told me that she’d accept when I’d become the champion of every important tourney and festival of the year, she’d accept.”

There was nothing to hold the braid in place with, so when he was done, Sweets simply let it fall back against Digger’s face. It started to unwind almost immediately, but by the time it’d twisted apart he was halfway done with the next one.

“I don’t think she expected me to get anywhere close. And I didn’t, for a few years. Maybe she’d thought I’d give up. Guess she didn’t know me very well, eh?”

The braids didn’t unwind completely. They held together at the top, so that the three strands of hair remained curled loosely against each other. Undone, but not entirely, still carrying the suggestion of what had been.

“But then one year I won them all. Travelled all over Hyrule, showed up wherever contests of skill and strength took place. The Coliseum. The last challenge of the year, a major celebration. The royal family was there. The entire time she watched me. That was all I remember caring about – that she was watching. Now though…. I wonder what she was thinking. I wish I’d wondered back then. I wish I’d asked her.”

The music box, ornate gold against white porcelain and studded with emeralds, weighs against his palm. It’s cold against his skin, having drunk in the chill of the morning. It leeches the warmth from his skin, sharp corners digging into his flesh.

“I didn’t, though. And I’d had this made, to give to her after I won. This song. I wonder why I chose it.” Digger shifted so he could look up at Sweets, who paused in his work. “Did you know, I had to fight my own father? I don’t even remember his face, but I remember I had to fight him. The feeling of it. That felt…”

The silence grew deeper as the day grew lighter, until eventually Sweets gives his bare shoulders a squeeze.

“Yeah. I guess afterwards I won. I gave the music box to her. And she told me she couldn’t, couldn’t let love distract her, not when she still didn’t know how to stop Ganon. Afterwards, she’d said. And that’s all I remember. Afterwards.”

Digger looked at the trinket in his hand and wondered, then, who’d been the one to truly ask for the impossible.

Sweets tapped his shoulder. The sun had cleared the horizon then, its light bringing out the deep, true gold of his hair, the smoothness of his shoulders, the brilliant blue of his eyes. Smiling, Sweets told him:

“Digger, you have a beautiful singing voice.”