#sidon botw

You are born of the water—not in body, but in spirit.

You love water.

You love drinking it, you love swimming in it, you love feeling it with every one of your senses until you get sick of it. But you will never get sick of it. For as long as the sun rises, the moon changes face, and the stars gleam, you will love water.

Growing up, your parents thought you had some serious condition with how much you lurched after it like a suffocating fish. It wasn’t “proper behavior for a lady”, much less for the niece of the king, so your nurses thoroughly disciplined it out of you. Being of important nobility does not allow you your individuality in high society. But just because you behave now doesn’t mean you don’t love water with all your heart.

You also love your sister. Growing up, she suffered a similar “ailment” with the sky and flying, and would always watch birds with rapt fascination. She’s presently working on a field guide for the birds of Hyrule, and her drawing skills naturally lend themselves to her endeavor. Since you’re the oldest, your parents gave up on trying to control her and focused all their efforts on you. You are caged like a bird, and she is unrestrained like water’s flow.

You wonder if things would be different had you been born a farm girl, or someone else without any formal title. Someone unimportant. If so, you could live by a lake, wake up to the sight of the dawn’s reflection, and spend your days swimming to your heart’s content. You would forage vegetation growing by the shore and roast them with nuts and truffles for your dinner. You could be free.

You could be happy.

For now, you have to settle for the rare occasion you’re allowed outside the palace grounds, and in those moments, sneak away to Hylia River. You haven’t visited a lake since childhood, but this will do just as well.

Your dress suffocates the pores of your skin, so you painstakingly loosen it and discard it in the water for the fish to enjoy the fine embroidery. You have too many dresses.

In nothing but your shift, you dip your toes into the river. The wet silt feels amazing beneath your feet. Each splashing step stirs your soul alive as you wade deeper and deeper, soaking your shift and your skin. Soon, you’re afloat on your back, letting yourself be carried downstream and away from the world.

The sensations are wonderful.

Its starts out all at once, then slows into a gentle trance. Cold water envelops your body. It seeps into your bones, muffles your ears, and allows you to just breathe while everything else passes by and melts into nothing. The only sound you can hear is the river’s trickling song. It sings only for you. Your limbs stretch out, your chest rises, and nothing could be more perfect. You could never want anything more.

Eventually, it all dim behind your eyelids. Only the river remains. You smell its nature—the smell of something ancient and everlasting—and you want that scent to sink deep into your lungs and never leave. The water delicately frames your face; kissing your lips and forehead. You could descend into its blue depths and not even notice.

In fact, you don’t notice when you’re not alone.

As the creature attacks you, you have a fraction of a second where you recognize what kind of monster it is—but it’s too late. It lunges at you through the water.

You manage to deflect it with a kick and rush for shore. The blue lizalfos makes a horrid gurgling sound, then snatches your ankle with impossible strength.

The air is there one moment and gone the next. The water betrays your love in panicked splashes while you flail and scream. It pierces your lungs. You’re drowning. As you cough and try to orient yourself, a sharp pain bursts on your left arm. You cry out.

Twisting in its hold, you kick the lizalfos in the head and once again swim desperately for shore. It’s stunned for only a moment, however.

It’s right behind you.

It can swim twice as fast as you.

Just as you fear your lungs will permanently fill with water, you hear a scream—not your own. You turn, and the lizalfos lets out another guttural noise as a trident sinks further into its chest.

You gasp and nearly inhale more water. The monster poofs out of existence, and for a moment, all you see is pink as you’re lifted out of the river. Everything grows heavy and blurry. You remember how much you hate gravity.

“Are you alright?” a voice asks above you.

Coughing and squinting against the sun, you regain your senses and recognize your rescuer to be a Zora. His colors are white and a rich pink—accented with elegant silver jewelry—and despite having attributes like a dolphin, he appears more shark-like than the pictures of Zora you’ve studied before.

He sets you down, then looks alarmed. “Oh, you’re bleeding!”

You hear fabric tear, and suddenly there’s pressure on the pain of your arm, just below your shoulder. You try not to cry out. He’s next to you tying up the wound while you ground yourself with the water dripping down your face. It feels cold in the breeze. The hem of your shift is dripping too, but it hasn’t been torn. Briefly looking left, you find the raw edge of a blue sash draped over the Zora’s body. As he focuses on his handiwork, you study him more.

The pink crest of his head juts forward sharply, but it doesn’t make him look dangerous. His eyes look kind. The claws on his giant hands never scratch you. They nimbly tie a knot and lift your arm for him to check his work.

“Thank you.” Your voice is hoarse from coughing.

His focused expression transforms into friendliness as he looks at you, and he smiles. His teeth are charmingly sharp.

Very shark-like.

“Of course,” he says, looking you over for any more injuries. “You’re very lucky I happened to be swimming by. Who knows what could have happened!”

He doesn’t sound condescending, or high and mighty, or any sort of way you’d find negative. He’s genuine and concerned, and happy to have saved you.

Remembering the manners that have been trained into you, you slip your arm from his hold to rest your hands in your lap. You tip your head, and speak with utmost politeness. “You are very kind. The lizalfos surprised me, and I do not know if I’d have made it had you not been nearby.”

“I don’t blame you for not being cautious!” He looks out to the vast sky. “Monsters that stick by rivers tend to do so in less populated areas.”

You’ve certainly never seen any near the castle. And now that you’ve been attacked by one—

You realize something terrible, and it has you sighing mournfully. “They will never let me do this again…”

“Never let you do what again?”

You shake your head, and a few droplets fling. “Do not concern yourself with my troubles.” You twiddle some wet grass beside you, but it cannot distract you from the truth. “I should merely be happy I live to see another day.”

But if you never see another day in the water, you will have died in spirit. A piece of you will have drowned in that river.

The Zora stands, and you are momentarily stunned at how tall he is, because Zora are supposedly around the same height as Hylians. “Well,” he begins, offering his hand and lifting you up. Even standing, you’re only at half his height. “I don’t know what troubles you after just escaping near-death, but I’m quite happy that Hylia put me in your path!”

His smooth, cold hand is strangely comforting. It carries the essence of water. He is born of it, and it reflects in every aquatic feature, every aspect of himself that is different from you. For that, you cannot help but be intrigued and perhaps a tad jealous. He has fins and gills, with a body built for swimming in water—for living in it.

You find your voice. “And I as well.”

He isn’t at all like you expected him to be. You know the Zora are considered amiable, but you’re pleasantly surprised at his cheerful demeanor. You would even call him charming. He smiles again, and you find it positively delightful. Do all Zora have a smile like that?

“My Lady!”

You find your two attendants sprinting across the field for you. Wincing, you take a step away from the Zora and hold yourself with as much dignity you can muster while soaking wet.

“Hello,” you greet them when they reach you. They take a moment to pant and catch their breath, then enclose on your personal space.

“You’re all wet!”

“Where is your dress?”

“You’ll catch a cold!”

“Are you injured?”

They both gasp in horror upon seeing your arm. It’s tied up in blue fabric, but the blood staining it betrays your condition. They don’t even seem to notice the Zora with you as they hustle you away from the river. You crane your neck and spot him waving goodbye before he impressively dives into the river with a flip. He quickly resurfaces, and as he dashes through the water with ease, he cheerfully calls out, “May our paths cross again!”

You smile to yourself and wave back.

Indeed, you hope that as well.