Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Do you ever think about…how things would have been if we hadn’t met when we did?”

“You mean if you hadn’t nearly frozen to death? Yes, I think of your recklessness often.”

“No, I mean…if we hadn’t met at all…what things would have been like then.”

“…I don’t know…I’m not sure we would have gotten along…”

“…you can be quite stuck up.”

“Stuck up! I am not stuck up!”

“I’m right, and you know it.”

“You take it back!”

******

“There’s plenty of good stuff to see in Akkala. Are you looking for something specific?”

Nobo was a very eager traveler, beaming at him from her place at the campfire. He’d planned to stop for only a moment at the stable, just long enough to board Epona for the evening, but she had drawn him into conversation with ease. Not wanting to be rude, and valuing information, he obliged, and here he was.

“A Sheikah lab, primarily,” he signed, nodding toward the north where he knew it was, roughly. “And the Spring of Power. Any shrines along the way.”

Nobo nodded excitedly, watching his gestures with care. It seemed to take her a moment to puzzle them out. “You want old Robbie, huh. His lab’s at the lighthouse up the top of this hill.”

She pointed behind them, where the hill did roll upward lazily, lined with trees. The packed dirt of the road faded out quickly in that direction, far less traveled than here.

“Oh, and the Spring of Power is over to the west,” she went on after a moment, gesturing with her thumb in that direction. “It’s sunk into an old quarry. There’s some machines still flying around over there, so you’ll have to be careful if you cut through the quarry. Last time I visited it, though, I just climbed down from the back way. That seemed to work okay.”

He nodded his thanks. “I’ll avoid them. Easier that way.”

“Yeah, they’re a real pain,” she agreed with a grimace. “Thankfully, most of ‘em are gone from up here now. Robbie’s a wonder, for an old fella. He cleared most of this place out of those old machines ages ago, and every time one of ‘em gets too close, he shoots it down and guts it for parts. All the kids know him for his wacky stories, too. He used to come down for music nights here, but we haven’t seen him in a while…probably busy tinkering with something.”

She looked thoughtful at that, but not so worried. He supposed Robbie’s oddball reputation had been steadily maintained over the years. Purah would be pleased.

Taking the opportunity as it came, he pushed to his feet. “Got to get going. Thank you for the directions.”

“Of course!” Nobo smiled, waving him off happily. “See you if I see you.”

He smiled a bit and headed off, following the road as it tapered off toward the north.

It was, thankfully, not a long walk. The sun had set full now, in the time it took to reach the stable and talk briefly with Nobo. Above him in the clear sky, the stars winked awake lazily, a stray fragment falling somewhere into Eldin. The moon was nowhere to be seen tonight, but with the sky so clear, the stars gave plenty of light.

Up at the peak of the lazy hill, a bright beam of light spun slowly, yawning his way every thirty seconds or so.

The Akkala lab was built out of an old lighthouse like a tumor, clearly out of place and entirely foreign. It sprouted up and out the sides of the structure haphazardly, nonsensically. The ancient tech crawling out of the old lighthouse looked entirely foreign, not helped by the eerie blue flame burning outside the door. Not to mention the decaying Guardians littered across the hilltop and in a massive pile next to the lab were sure to drive most away.

Thankfully, those Guardians were clearly past their prime. As he walked up the sloping path toward the lighthouse’s door, he passed many which were all but dismantled. Some were only the lower or middle tiers of the body, others just the head, even a few odd legs lay like discarded toys, half buried in the tall grass which covered most of Akkala. Even those occasional Guardians which were whole were caked in dirt.

More importantly, absolutely none of them still had an eye. The socket at the top of each head was empty, showing only the occasional loose wire or connection point.

The relief at the sight of them without their weaponry was near staggering. Though questioning how exactly Robbie had gone about coring the eye out of every Guardian they passed was…a concerning line of thinking.

Then again, Robbie clearly had experience. Purah spoke of his ventures in Central Hyrule and throughout Akkala, clearing out the machines from areas where they were causing repeated issues. Clearing out the Plateau (or at least…mostly clearing it out).

Robbie and Purah had led the research before the Calamity, too, and Purah had said Robbie was more focused on the machines and weaponry than she was. If anyone stood a chance against the Guardians, it was likely him. Adding in his century of experience in dealing with them, and it was a wonder that he hadn’t found an excuse to come to Akkala sooner.

But, Akkala was out of the way, disconnected, and difficult to reach without becoming distracted by larger problems. Death Mountain loomed over it to the west, burning bright and spitting smoke and lava every few hours. Sometimes, when he was lucky enough to catch the sun at the right angle, he could see something moving there, squirming over the surface of the mountain, crawling around and around.

Vah Rudania was clearly causing a ruckus. And just to the south, Vah Ruta had been doing the same. And he hadn’t exactly been in the right state to start tackling either beast the last time he’d come close to Akkala.

Still, he was here now, and as he peered curiously at the Sheikah emblem chalked onto the door, he knew this was the right choice.

He hesitated for a moment at the door, worrying over the time of day. But despite it being well into the night now, he could hear something clattering and tinkering inside.

Plus, this was important.

Steeling his courage, he raised a hand and knocked a few times on the door.

The clattering reached a crescendo and he lurched away from the door as it shook. Someone inside shouted, cursing as the sound of falling something continued for a concerning amount of time. When the dust settled, a voice called out, muffled but full of righteous fury.

“You better have good reason for knocking on my door! All my good gears! Covered in dirt. Beedle you little worm if that’s you, you’ll never get another arrow out of me, not once!”

The door wrenched open with a squeal, scraping against something heavy and metal behind it as it did. An ancient gear came rolling out the gap and Link stooped to catch it, picking it up before it could go rolling down the whole hill. It was as big as his hands, though not quite heavy.

In the doorway, a bit stooped over, was who must’ve been Robbie.

Like Impa, age must have stooped him, or perhaps it was the large piece of machinery he had tied to his back. Despite the wrinkles and clear signs of his age, he didn’t seem too inhibited—his skin was dark with a deep tan, and he’d wrenched the door open with enough force to startle some animals from the nearby trees.

Even stooped he was a bit taller than Link, peering down at him from behind massive goggles which completely obscured his eyes, the lenses tinted dark, one of them with a huge magnifier sticking out of it. His white hair stuck out in every possible direction, except those parts clamped down by the goggles.

Though Link couldn’t see his eyes, his shock was quite clear by the gaping mouth and silent staring. He hung in the doorway like a forgotten ornament, completely silent and swaying like in a breeze.

“Robbie?”

That seemed to startle him out of his funk, and he leaned back as if to get a better look, still holding the doorknob. “These disguises get better by the day…” he muttered, adjusting the magnifier with his free hand. “You’re going to tell me you’re Link, aren’t you?”

He blinked, watching warily as he continued to seemingly zoom in on his face. “I…am Link.”

“Hmph! Not fooling this old geezer so easily. C’mon in, and give me that.”

He opened the door a bit more, forcing it back with his foot as he yanked the gear from Link’s hands, polishing it with his sleeve before staring critically at it from all angles.

“Not damaged. You’re lucky, you know. If it was damaged, you’d be getting me more.”

He turned away before Link could formulate an answer beyond an instinctual shudder. He would not be doing that, even if he had broken all of Robbie’s gears.

As Robbie stomped off toward a table against the back wall, Link took the chance to look around. Unlike Purah’s lab in Hateno, this one looked a bit cleaner. It was far less covered in paper at least, though the avalanche of gears, screws, and other bits of ancient machinery which had fallen from somewhere had made a mess of things for sure. What had he been doing before Link knocked on the door to cause all this mess?

It was a small room, rounded as the old lighthouse, though the altered ceiling showed that most of the additions must have been made above them. Here on the ground, the room appeared original in its skeleton. Only one door, and a set of stairs winding around and up starting at the back of the room. Shelves were built into the walls, crammed full of books, machinery, and loose parts. A few workbenches were against the free spaces, each covered with materials. The central column of the structure held a darkened machine made of familiar brown stone.

After a moment’s rifling through the bits and bobs on the table, Robbie all but threw the gear onto it, apparently giving up. Muttering darkly and incomprehensibly to himself, he turned around back toward Link.

“Alright. Out with it, who are you, what do you want?”

Hands on his hips, he might’ve looked mildly intimidating if not for the wildly spiked hair and odd goggles. As it was, he looked like someone’s grandparent who had escaped home without telling anyone.

“Link,” he signed again with some force, deciding to be brief. “Purah said to come see you.”

Robbie scowled at him, coming closer and adjusting the goggles again. Apparently unsatisfied by whatever they showed him, he stalked closer and poked hard at Link’s side.

Jolting, he jerked away, swatting a hand on some instinct. Undeterred, Robbie kept going, poking at his side and muttering.

“Can’t tell through all that,” he grumbled after a moment, then looked back at Link, the goggles almost comically close to his face. “Prove it!”

He stared blankly. Prove what?

“The real Link should have scars. Very distinct ones. Off, show me.”

He waved impatiently at Link’s tunic, even as he continued to stare, unmoving. Honestly, he had no idea what to say to that.

“The Sword isn’t enough for you? Or the Slate?”

“Could be faked.”

“Faked,” he repeated, stunned. Fi’s displeasure rang in his mind, caustic and sharp.

Robbie jabbed his side again, hard. “Off.”

This was ridiculous. Wholly and completely ridiculous.

But Purah had said that Robbie was ridiculous…

Sighing, he pulled his arm guards off and set them aside, not really caring at Robbie’s apparent offense at him using the nearby chair to set his things on. If he was going to make him show his scars, he could put up with him using a chair for barely more than a few minutes.

“Well, this is intriguing. What in the name of Hylia is going on right now?”

Rolling his eyes, he continued without pause, pulling off his gloves and leaning the Sword and his bow against the chair. “Keep your beak in your own business.”

“I’m sorry, you want me to act as if this is normal?”

“You want me to act like Robbie is normal?”

“…Touché.”

There was still something too amused in Revali’s voice to fully trust, but he was unlikely to get anything better from him. Especially when he could also recognize that this was absurd.

But he had already started, so there was no point in quitting halfway. He pulled his tunic off, folding it in half and setting it aside before getting to work on his undershirt.

He hadn’t really thought of his scars in a while. Back on the Plateau, when they had been new, and particularly in his first few unfortunate encounters with Guardians, they had been an unsettling indicator of his fate from when he could not remember. He hadn’t touched it further than that, far too busy trying to quickly regain his strength, the Sword, and free Revali.

But his father had reacted to his scars earlier, and he knew that some people on the road did as well. A double take and a long stare, usually darting away when he caught them. Thankfully, at least in this respect, the worst of them were hidden by his armor and clothing.

He didn’t particularly hate them, nor did he feel anything positive toward them. They were just there, just a part of him, just something he had to factor in as normal. He only avoided thinking about them too closely to avoid triggering a memory of that day.

His undershirt was a tight fit, a warm layer he usually wore even when in milder or warmer climates, given how poorly some of the scars on his torso reacted to cold. Thankfully, his Rito gear was Hebra-proof, and the armor Mipha gave him made cold water much easier to handle. Right now though, in Akkala’s temperate air and in this particular context of having to bear his scars to the world, the undershirt was little more than an inconvenience, having to be all but peeled off.

The lighthouse felt cold without it, the worst scars along his chest tight and pulling already. He grimaced, and made a sweeping gesture. “Satisfied?”

“Hmph.”

Robbie gave no other immediate reply, adjusting his goggles again to stare at the various burns, gashes, and mottled starbursts painted across his stomach and sides. He stared for several seconds at each, particularly two of them, one on his left side—which he now could reasonably guess came from the Guardian that shot him in Castle Town—and the largest and by far worst of them, a hit to the near dead center of his chest which he decidedly did not want to think about.

It had to have been what put an end to their escape. Any blast from a Guardian that direct, that close, close enough to crawl its way across his whole chest and up his neck and cheek…it didn’t merit considering how he’d lived long enough to reach the shrine.

Adding in the dozens of other burns and scars, and he knew he made quite a sight.

One which seemed to have stumped Robbie, who after staring at the most central scar went quiet and a bit rigid. Stepping back a little, he adjusted the goggles again before apparently deciding they weren’t worth the effort and ripping them off. Without them on, his eyes looked almost small, even as wide as they were as he stared at him.

“Ah. It is you.”

He nodded.

His mouth twisted into a petulant frown. “Oh, Robbie, you’ve done it now. Purah will have my head, won’t she.”

He said it so flatly it brought a half a smirk to his face. “Almost definitely.”

Robbie laughed, the sound moving from something despairing to near manic in less than a breath. “You’re awake! Ah, I thought I’d go to bits before you woke up again. Where in all worlds have you been?!”

Before Link could react or even answer, he barreled into him, hugging him so hard all the air left him in one huff. The only saving grace for his lungs was that the hug was brief. Robbie launched off him at speed, scrambling toward the table spilled over with machinery.

“Purah sent you, you said—that’s excellent, which means you’ll have seen her already, and so have no need to return and tell her of my…hm. Failing vision. Yeah, we’ll go with that.”

Not finding what he wanted at the table, he, without any preamble or hesitation, climbed on top of it to reach the shelves built into the wall. As he rambled on, Link pulled his undershirt and tunic back on, leaving the rest of his gear off for now.

“Calamity’s been a pain, I’m sure you know. Malice, monsters, and it took over all our machines! A nightmare for research, I tell you. To get my hands on anything, I have to destroy it now, or it’ll kill me and the children. Bad business, all bad. But the rewards are wonderous.”

He gave a shout of victory and emerged from the shelves with a bundle of arrows, glowing bright blue through the paper sealing them up.

“Went through a lot of prototypes, you wouldn’t believe. It would have helped to know anything about archery before trying it. But! Beggars can’t be choosers, and there are precious few archers in Akkala. What there were plenty of was Guardians, and after gutting…oh, maybe a hundred of them…I had enough bits and bobs to play with.

“Behold!” he shouted, grinning widely. With a flourish, he pulled the paper away. “Ancient arrows!”

In the pack was a bundle of about twenty arrows. The base was clearly a standard arrow, nothing out of the ordinary. Robbie had likely bought them and modified them himself. Smarter than starting from scratch. The head of the arrow held that modification, made of the same dark brown stone as the shrines and other ancient Sheikah technology. A faint orange glow crawled around the surface, circling the point where the arrowhead connected to the wood.

“Beedle supplies the arrows, you’ve likely seen him on the road. Lad goes everywhere, and he sells for cheap, if he gets to hand out a few to travelers who look like they need them. He said something about promoting them…after he said he’d give me arrows, I stopped listening.” He waved his free hand dismissively, before plucking an arrow from the bundle and setting the rest aside on the chair. “Modified arrowhead, much stronger than the others.”

“Can it get through the armor?”

“Like a hot knife in butter,” he agreed with the same manic grin as before. “Part of that is the stone. It’s the most sturdy mineral we’ve ever found. Only an ancient furnace could ever melt it, and there’s only two of those in all of Hyrule. Its one weakness is itself—it’s the only material strong enough to stand a chance against itself, and when it clashes,” he made a sound like an explosion. “You’ve got your Calamity killer for the pig boy, and you’ll have these for the old traitors. Ah! I almost forgot the best part.”

He was all but bouncing in excitement, waving the arrow frantically. “Get your bow. Go, go, go!”

Hands up in placation, he nodded, scooping up his bow from where he’d left it and coming back. Robbie held out the arrow insistently, smiling so wide it almost looked painful.

“Nock it, go on,” he said, waving impatiently.

Giving him a skeptical look (which only earned him more frantic hand waving) Link sighed and acquiesced. He took the arrow and settled it against the string, drawing the bow aim aiming for the back wall, where nothing could get hurt if he let go.

The moment his bow was fully drawn, the arrow hummed, and a blade opened up from the center, locking into place like a knife point. It glowed bright, piercing blue, setting waves in the air from the heat of the energy.

Wincing, he turned to look at Robbie.

“You’ll want to aim for the eye. One of these there and the whole machine is bust.”

“One hit?”

“Just one!”

Huh. He could work with that…he hoped.

“Best weapon against an ancient machine is an ancient machine. Preferably one in the shape of a knife, made of the machine’s own parts. Poetic justice!”

This was accompanied by another aggressive gesture, ending with a cheer. Rolling his eyes, Link let the bow loose and the arrow closed in on itself once again.

“How many do you have?”

“Currently? Those.” He pointed to the bundle. “With the right materials—which! Are in route—and the right encouragement to dear old Cherry, I can have more for you in as quick as a few days.”

“Cherry’s your guidance stone, right?”

He gasped, outraged. “Don’t talk about Cherry in such a—such a crass way! She’s my first love, you know.” He turned away, snubbing him in favor of moving to the darkened machine at the center of the room. He cooed at it nonsensically, then moved to the back, fiddling with something out of sight.

A sputter and an audible grinding of gears later, warbling blue light filtered through the stone. At the top, something vaguely shaped like a face glowed too, like eyes and a simple mouth.

“Cherry, darling, we have guests!”

The machine buzzed, more gears clunking into place. Something like a mouth moved, then, a strange voice with harsh static and very odd pronunciation spoke. “Bzzt…good morning…Robbie and—” it clunked again, stuttering to a halt for a moment with its ‘mouth’ hanging open. “Error…[FAMILIAR NAME MISSING]…”

“Link, my sweet, his name’s Link.”

“Yes—bzzt—Robbie. Welcome, Link.”

Robbie looked at him expectantly.

He sighed. “Hi, Cherry.”

“Good enough!” He propped his chin on the top of Cherry’s ‘head.’ “Cherry, dear, are you up for making more ancient arrows?”

“Ancient arrows…calculating…” Several seconds filled with loud machinery movements and static followed, before another definitive clunk sounded from the machine. “Additional materials required.”

“Ah, as expected. Lay it on me.”

It clunked again. “Instructions unclear, please restate.”

“Tell me what you need, Cherry.”

“Ancient arrows…additional materials required…please provide, per arrow requested: [ANCIENT SCREWS] … 2 … [ANCIENT GEAR SHAFTS] … 1 …and…[ARROWS].”

“How many arrows would you like for now, then?”

“Get me some.”

Jabbing Revali away along their connection (earning the vague feeling of a pout) he thought about it for a moment. “Need to clear the Castle at some point, and it would be good to have spare for the road…”

“Hm.” Robbie seemed to puzzle it over as well, scratching at his head. It sent his hair spiking up even further. “There’s likely to be dozens permanently posted at the Castle, and that’s not mentioning what number you might face in getting to it…let’s say 50 for a start, and if you need more before you go in for your attack, you come to me again, eh?”

He nodded. 50 would be plenty for regular travel.

“Adding in those there for free as well, of course,” he said with an aggressively expressive wink. Then he turned back to the furnace, patting it on the head. “Okay, Cherry, how much supply for 50 arrows?”

Churning again, the machine took several seconds to process this, lights flickering and sparking. He could almost see the gears turning in its stone head. He could definitely hear them. Despite the similarity to the way a Guardian sounded as it moved, it was almost…charming to hear it in such an odd and non-threatening context.

Eventually, the mouth opened again and a cheerful chime left the machine. “For—bzzt—50 ancient arrows…materials required: [ANCIENT SCREWS] … 100 … [ANCIENT GEAR SHAFTS] … 50 …and…[ARROWS]…50.”

Robbie cheered, patting the machine and cooing at it. Link rolled his eyes.

“You could have just done the math.”

“How dare you!” He covered the decorative top pieces of the machine as if they were ears. “Don’t you talk badly about Cherry, she’ll hear you. She’s very sensitive, you know.”

As if in response, the lights flickered and waved on the machine, its ‘mouth’ opening and closing.

“Error…power supply…”

“What!”

Robbie lurched up, diving behind the machine. Link leaned over to see him frantically checking several wires, tubes, and other strange bits of machinery which connected to the back of the machine and seemed to run into the floor.

Cherry sputtered again, mouth hanging open. “ERROR…low…powerrrr…”

The sound trailed off lower and lower, winding down to one low tone, droning and dissonant. Then, with one last fitful spark, the lights on the machine went out, and Cherry was silent.

Robbie cried out as if it had permanently died, and went scrambling for the door. He opened it in the same hurry as he had when Link knocked, all but careening out into the night.

He cursed loud enough to echo, then launched back into the room, slamming the door with a resounding thunk.

“Stupid furnace and its stupid ancient flame,” he grumbled, stomping to the stairs. “Granté!”

Something thumped above them, followed by the sound of some shuffling and a door opening. “What!” a younger voice called down from above, a bit muffled by the distance.

“Furnace, please!”

“Oh. Okay, hang on!”

A mad amount of shuffling, banging, and scuffing seemed to occur in the room above as Robbie left the stairs. He waved Link to a chair distractedly. “Hungry? Thirsty?”

He shook his head, bemused. Robbie grumbled something unintelligible and settled in his own chair over by the table full of machinery.

A boy came rushing down the stairs seconds later, so quickly he nearly bowled over on an untied boot lace, barely catching himself as he landed. He was young in the face, probably at least a few years below Link in age, with choppily cut blond hair covering most of his face. His clothes were Sheikah, worn a bit too nonsensically to have not been hastily fixed.

“Is it out as far as the lanterns?” he asked, sitting on the steps to tie his untied boot.

“Didn’t get a good look. Probably out at least to the lake, if Cherry’s lost power.”

“Okay. I have my knives, in case.” He looked up, and only then seemed to notice Link sitting across the room. His eyes went wide. “Woah! You must be Master Link!”

“Hey!” Robbie cut him off before he could do more than nod, sounding outraged. “Don’t you go recognizing him on the first! You’re making me look bad.”

“Oh! Uh…sorry? It…is pretty obvious.”

He sighed, thumping his head on the table. “Children. Never respecting their elders…” With another forlorn sigh, he sat up. “Link, Granté. He’s my kid.”

Link gave a wave, which was (a bit nervously) returned by Granté. “Adopted, by the way,” he added, smiling sheepishly. “Robbie’s way too old to be my blood father.”

“Oi!”

“It’s true, even mom says it.”

“Ugh.” Robbie thumped his head on the table again.

Granté laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, dad, I’ll get the lanterns lit.”

He stood quickly, rifling through a pile of odds and ends under the stairs until he found a torch. With that, he waved goodbye and headed out.

“He’ll be alright? It’s night.”

“Eh.” Robbie waved a hand dismissively. “Granté’s a whiz with his knives. He’s handled worse, and he’s done this for me more times than I could count without shame.”

The name struck a chord suddenly, and Link snapped. “He mapped the Guardians in Central Hyrule!”

“Yup. He did. Purah share the map with you?”

He nodded. “I knew I recognized the name…”

“That field trip took him a good few weeks. He ran off before I had the arrows perfect enough to make a good amount. They were expensive, then, and they didn’t always work. But Granté wanted experience, and he wanted to see the old Castle Town. So we had him map the Stalkers routes. He did a pretty good job, too. Picked a few of ‘em off on the way back as well.” He smiled then, a gentler one than his previously displayed wild grins. It seemed more serious. “He’s a good kid.”

Link didn’t doubt it. And his mapping had already helped him once, it was sure to do so again.

“He’ll likely have something or other to tell you before you leave,” Robbie went on thoughtfully, frowning. “He’s always sniffing around for hidden shrines or armor or the like…”

They continued chatting as they waited, perhaps twenty minutes or so. Link gave a brief overview of his travels, and his last visit to Purah. Robbie was far less interested in the Beasts, compared to Purah, but went rabid at the mention of little Guardians in the shrines.

“Small ones!” he’d shouted, lurching forward and grabbing Link’s hands like they would give him the answers he wanted immediately. “Like that little head Purah stole from me? Hung it like a trophy at her lab, I can’t stand the sight of it.”

Wriggling his hands away, Link nodded. “Small ones. In shrines, as challenges. To test my strength, I think.”

“Tell me everything!”

He had dozens of questions, about the size of the Guardians, their combat abilities, weapons, their beams and the general amount of effort it took to take them down. The number of them he had faced, and where, and whether he could be convinced to either bring Robbie one or bring Robbie into a shrine to see one.

“I can get you into a shrine, most likely. I took Impa into one briefly.”

“Impa always has all the fun,” he pouted briefly. “You promise to bring me into one? I’ll hold you to it!”

Link made a cross over his heart. Robbie accepted this easily.

As this thread of conversation wound to an end, a sudden clunking, grinding gears sound came from somewhere beneath them. Link stared at the boards beneath his feet as Robbie cheered, hurrying to Cherry at the center of the room.

A few tweaks and unknown fiddling with the machine later, and the lights returned to its body and face. The door opened and Granté came back inside, storing the torch back where he’d found it.

“Did it work?”

“Like a dream!” Robbie shouted from behind the machine, still messing with something or other as it began to power back on. “Cherry will be right as rain, hang on—”

Granté rolled his eyes, smiling conspiratorially at Link for a moment. “I’m going back upstairs, then.”

“Away with you!”

Cherry’s lights flared back on with a decisive thunk of what must’ve been a central gear. “…bzzt…error in shut-down, please repeat last request…”

“Cherry, you’re alive!”

It thunked again in response, mouth still moving out of sync. “I am Cherry.”

“Yes, you are,” he cooed at it, petting its head. “My lovely Cherry…”

“This is disgusting to witness. I’ve had enough.” Their tether drew close, and Revali appeared in a flash of green fire, only half there. “Robbie, if you have a son does that imply a wife?”

He shrieked, jumping a near foot in the air and throwing the nearest object—a discarded and half-broken gear—at him. Revali watched, unimpressed, as it flew straight through him, clattering to the ground without having made any impact.

“What was your goal with that?”

Robbie was too stunned to reply just yet, staring at Revali as if he’d sprouted a second head. “You—how—”

“Don’t ask,” Link interjected. “None of us have a clue.”

“Because it’s such a shame to be stuck with me,” Revali said with a put upon sigh.

“No. It’s nice.”

He smirked, a tiny little thing.

“Link, I think you may have left out some details of your…exploits.”

He grinned. “Oops?”

******

Morning came slow and syrupy, a gradual sinking in of sunlight accompanied by the salt tinged wind of the sea creeping through the cracks and gaps in the lab’s hodge-podge walls. Bundled in spare blankets on an old mattress on the lab’s ground floor, Link woke drowsily with the sun, burying his face under the pillow for a few more minutes rest.

An indeterminate amount of time later, some shuffling above and around him woke him again.

He slumped up, rubbing at his eyes and knowing his hair was likely going in every direction possible. Judging by the wind outside, he’d have to ask Revali to braid it for him again…

Someone was moving around upstairs, and another set of footsteps was shuff shuff-ing around somewhere nearby. With a yawn he blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes and looked around the room for the source of the noise.

A woman was shuffling around the tables at the far end, worrying at a plate filled with steaming eggs. He could smell them already, and his stomach rumbled in response.

The woman wore a mix of Sheikah and Hylian clothing, with her hair pulled up high and out of the way. This must’ve been Granté’s mother, whom he had learned was indeed Robbie’s wife.

She must have been Hylian, rather than Sheikah, given her darker hair (blonde like Granté’s, though tinging silver it seemed) and shorter stature. And she must have heard him move, as she looked his way quickly, and smiled.

“Good morning!” she called, half whispering. “I’m Jerrin, Robbie’s wife. I have eggs, if you want some? Still working on the rest of breakfast, I’m afraid.”

He nodded, pushing out of the nest of blankets and old pillows. “Need help?”

“You’re sweet. But yes, almost definitely, unless you like…very crisped bacon. Eggs are about my limit, I’d say…”

He followed her outside, to where they kept their cooking pot. Apparently, Robbie had set fire to the kitchen several years ago, and they still hadn’t fixed the stove. She didn’t share how Robbie had set fire to the kitchen, but it didn’t really merit asking. He was enough of a menace that discovering he’d destroyed something wasn’t terribly surprising.

“Nothing too special, thankfully,” Jerrin said as she waved her hands at her assembled breakfast supplies. “Eggs, a bit of meat. I’ve got some bread inside as well, of course.”

Link got the fire burning higher and set to work on the bits of wrapped bacon and sausage she had laid out. “Pretty good breakfast though. The eggs smelled good.”

“Ha. Thank you. As I said, that’s just about all I can cook. Though I do make a fairly decent cake every year for Granté.”

They chatted amicably, but not too deeply as the meat fried and crisped. The smell must have been strong enough to reach through the house, as Granté appeared after a little while, slumping down by the cooking pot with his eyes still half closed. Jerrin got to work coaxing him into consciousness while Link picked the sausage and bacon out of the pot.

When they all rambled back inside, Robbie had woken up and dragged a table toward the center of the room. “This’ll do for now, I’d say,” he said, nodding decisively and snatching the plate full of bacon from Link. “Mine, thank you!”

They cluttered around the little table as Jerrin brought out a few more plates and the bread she had promised. Robbie seemed to have taken all of the bacon already for himself, but was wheedled into giving some of it over to Granté easily enough. Soon, all their plates were filled with eggs, a bit of meat, and fresh bread. It was better than the quick breakfast he typically made himself before getting on the road.

“So!” Jerrin said after they had tucked in for a few minutes of quiet. “Robbie filled me in a bit, but I’m sure not enough—”

“Give me some credit!”

“Only when earned, dear,” she said with a smile. Robbie pouted. “Link, you’re headed back out of Akkala again, is that right?”

He nodded, setting down his fork to sign. “Have to head for Goron City next. But stopping at the Spring of Power before then, and probably the stable at the foot of Death Mountain.”

“You’ll have to,” Granté chipped in, his voice muffled by the bread still in his mouth. Jerrin gave him a look and he finished chewing before continuing. “Sorry. But yeah, you’ll have to stop. Death Mountain’s boiling hot after the first checkpoint. You need either the Gorons’ armor or a bunch of those little elixir things. Made from lizards or smotherwings.”

Robbie made a bleh noise, shaking his head with a grimace. “Smotherwings taste awful. Best ones are the lizard ones.”

“Um…dad, I’m not…I’m not sure you’re really supposed to drink those…”

“What? It’s an elixir. You drink all the others, don’t you?”

Jerrin had a hand to her forehead. “It’s a wonder you’re still alive. Fireproof elixirs are often topical. You apply them like a sunscreen.”

“Link, back me up.”

He put up his hands. “I don’t have any memories of Death Mountain, I don’t know what I did before the Calamity.”

“Ate rocks,” Robbie said, filling up his plate with more eggs. “And anything else, if dared. But Lord Daruk always boasted about you eating rock roast with him.”

“What’s a rock roast?” Granté asked, looking like he didn’t really want to know.

“Exactly what it sounds like. Rocks. From a specific part of the mountain, they look like roast meat. The Gorons cook ‘em up until the inside melts like magma. They eat it like a delicacy up there.”

“Well…then clearly I can’t be trusted on what’s edible.”

“No rocks this time, young man,” Jerrin said, pointing her fork at him. “And talk to whoever gives you the elixirs. Don’t go drinking things you’re not certain you can drink.”

He nodded easily enough. Rocks did not sound like a good snack for a Hylian anyway…

“The Spring of Power isn’t too far from here, though,” she went on, apparently placated by his promise not to eat rocks. “You should be able to see it and reach the southern stable by nightfall. From the southern stable to the stable at Death Mountain’s base isn’t too long or difficult a journey. The roads here aren’t dangerous.”

“Why’re you going to the Spring anyway?” Granté asked curiously.

Link pulled out the Slate and swiped through its screens to the Princess’s pictures. He found the one showing the Spring of Power and showed them.

“Getting memories back,” he signed after putting down the Slate. “Zelda’s pictures help. And I’ve visited the other two springs already, so this one’s the last. They each have had a shrine, too.”

“Oh!” Jerrin startled at that, her fork clattering as she dropped it. “That reminds me! There’s a shrine at the top of the eye in Skull Lake. Climbing from the bottom would be impossible, but if you glide from the cliffs above, you can reach it, I’m sure.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“There’s one by those old ruins to the north, too,” Granté added. “But it’s out at sea, and there’s definitely Guardians there. The flying ones.”

“Skywatchers,” Robbie corrected.

“Right. Those ones.”

“I’ll probably leave that for now, then. I need to head to Death Mountain sooner rather than later.”

“Get it next time,” Robbie agreed with a dismissive gesture of his fork, still shoveling eggs like a starving man. “You’ll be back for more arrows anyway.”

“Maybe some of the armor too, dad.”

“Right! If it’s ready.” He took a pause to swallow and then turned back to Link, so excited something must’ve gone down the wrong way; he started hiccupping almost immediately. “Got more materials from—hic—the armor, around the bodies.” He gulped, hitting his chest. “Enough broken pieces—hic—and I can—”

“Just take a breath,” Jerrin said, exasperated.

“I’m—hic—nearly there.” He did pause then, but only to hiccup again. “Piece it together, make—hic—armor out of it. Sturdy. Blocks their—hic, ow—beams better.”

“Purah mentioned a shield too.”

Robbie nodded, though he said nothing else, hitting his chest again as he pushed his chair back with a terrible screech. He left the room in a hurry, stomping up the stairs.

Jerrin sighed and Granté snickered into his eggs.

He didn’t return for nearly a full minute, but the amount of clattering and stomping happening in the floors above them showed he was definitely up to something up there. Eventually, a door slammed, and Robbie came barreling back down the stairs at speeds no person over the age of a hundred should be able to hit. How Robbie was apparently so fit was not worth questioning, but it was slightly terrifying. How long did the Sheikah naturally live?

“Got it,” he said, and dropped the apparent shield on the table, sliding it over to Link.

Like most ancient weaponry he had seen the smaller Guardians use, it was compact and inert when not in use. He picked it up, looking it over critically. He’d seen similar shields on some of the combat Guardians, where they closed up into a central core, and opened when they were ready to guard.

He slid his arm through the band at the back, and the shield fanned open with a hum.

Unlike the Guardians’ shields, it was not entirely made of the blue energy fields common in ancient weaponry. He was glad for that—having to block a Guardian’s beam while staring at blinding blue light was unlikely to do anything good for his psyche.

The central core remained as it was when closed, a round piece made of the familiar dark brown stone. Fanned around it was the blue energy field, caged in by lighter brown structures, drawn out in the shape of an eye. The whole thing hummed in his hands, but not as noticeably as the arrows did when ready to fire.

“I’m sure Purah told you, but it will redirect any of their beams. The core here,” he pointed at the center piece made of solid, dark stone, “came from one of the Stalkers out in Hyrule Field, the central core of the machine. Inside them, it’s what powers the whole machine, but more importantly, the energy beam goes straight through it. It’s the only type of core that can withstand more than one hit from it.”

“Robbie,” Jerrin interjected.

He beamed at her. She didn’t seem amused, only raising an eyebrow at him. His smile flickered a bit. “What?”

“You’re forgetting something else you have for him.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

Robbie frowned, dropping his chin into his hand as he thought.

Jerrin rolled her eyes, getting up herself. She rounded the table and flicked Robbie on the forehead. “I’ll get it.”

“Even better! Thank youuuu.”

Jerrin gave no reply to his soppy thanks, walking much more calmly up the stairs and into the upper rooms. Link stored the new shield away in the Slate and took the chance to quickly finish his own plate.

She returned only a few moments later with something in a small box. Setting it in front of Link as she took his plate away, she said, “We had this made the last time a Gerudo trader came through. It took quite a while to have it delivered here, but it is worth it, for the protection it offers.”

Her words clearly made Robbie remember the contents of the box, as he shouted. “That’s right! Jerrin, darling, you’re an angel.”

She smiled at him briefly, and gestured to Link. “Go on, open it.”

He opened the lid of the simple box. Inside was a golden circlet, a full wreath of finely wrought leaves, like laurels, wrapping around each other and around a central piece at the front and a fairy’s wings at the back. Lifting it out of the box carefully, he turned it in his hands, admiring the fine craftsmanship. At the back and front, set into the gold, were two diamonds, glittering in the sunlight.

This had to have cost a fortune. He stared at Jerrin with wide eyes.

“Diamonds are the toughest mineral in all of Hyrule, and they’re full of light magic,” Granté said, nearly bouncing in his seat in excitement. “Besides the old Sheikah tech, they’re the only thing that holds up against the Guardians. The Gerudo make these circlets for protection—the gem protects you from the worst of any blast from them.”

He continued to stare at them, before looking back down at the circlet.

“They’re a newer thing,” Robbie added. “But the woman who makes them is a marvel. If you give her the materials, she can make a circlet out of almost any mineral. Heat or cold protection, assistance in swimming, basic protection, and of course, these.”

“We trade materials with the people at the stables often,” Jerrin finished, and Link looked up at her again. She must have seen some of his panic over the cost. “There’s another Gerudo trader who deals in gems, in Goron City. Granté trades what we don’t use for experiments—it was easy enough to trade for a diamond, and then we had the materials sent to Isha to craft this. She knows us. This was by no means a terrible burden to have made, I assure you.”

“And it’ll keep you safe,” Robbie finished, nodding firmly. “At least until I work out this whole armor situation…”

“Thank you.”

It was all he could say. He held tightly to the circlet, fighting the urge to put it on now and never take it off again.

“Not such a bad idea, really.”

*****

“So,” Revali said suddenly, and appeared a moment later in a flutter of wings, gliding down next to him as the hill steepened beneath their feet, drooping down into the valley. “The other two required helping a dragon in some way. Think this one will be the same?”

“It’s possible,” he thought along their connection, raising a shoulder in an approximation of a shrug, the closest he could get to the real thing while still keeping ahold of his glider. “Dinraal patronizes the Spring of Power. I know that much. But I don’t remember the last time I was here, so I’m not sure if she’s as present as Naydra or Farosh.”

“At the very least you’ll get another one of your pictures, if not a shrine.”

He nodded.

Below them, sunk deep into the valley, the Spring of Power appeared as if from nowhere. Unlike the others, it had no grand promenade or mountainous protection, not even the suggestion of such a thing existing long ago. It simply sat, nestled into the ground and pouring endless water into itself from several water falls.

The abandoned quarry Nobo had mentioned bloated out to the south, three Skywatchers circling the hollowed passages endlessly. They thankfully seemed uninterested in leaving their set paths.

“Not much, is it?” Revali called, swooping into a dive to land at the top of the lip of land just above the Spring. Link joined him a moment later, snapping the glider shut. “Certainly different from the others.”

“You are quite callous toward deities, aren’t you, Revali?”

He startled and scowled in the direction of Zora’s Domain. “Mipha, you’re hardly a zealot.”

She laughed, and appeared a moment later, more wispy and fire-made than even Revali, who was a greater distance from his Beast. “The Zora are among the more religious. But no, I myself am not so invested. Still…call it a healthy respect for those bigger than myself.”

Revali huffed. “Clearly, there’s no deity here.”

Your beloved speaks rashly, Hero. I am here.

Link startled and looked down into the Spring, where the Goddess statue glowed in eerie sunlight. Revali questioned his movement, but he shushed him, jumping down into the Spring’s water. It cushioned his landing gently, and he stood in front of the Goddess statue, staring up at the smiling stone face. Revali and Mipha flickered away, likely suspecting he was praying.

Hello, Hero.

“Just you here? Not Dinraal?”

The Goddess’s smile seemed sad. Dinraal rarely frequents this Spring. She seems to prefer the rest of Hyrule. Do you remember what the goddesses of old gave us?

He nodded, though he had no source for the knowledge. “Like the Springs. Power, Wisdom, Courage.”

Yes, but there is more to it than that. Din gave the earth and fire—power, Nayru the water and knowledge—wisdom, and Farore the lightning and life, courage. She paused a moment there, that sad tinge to her unmoving smile growing a little stronger. Farosh called you her Chosen. This is because your spirit often represents Courage at its most pure form. You carry the soul of my Hero, and no matter the form or time, you have always represented Courage most proudly. Naydra similarly sees your Zelda as her Chosen, for representing Wisdom.

Dinraal, however, has no Chosen. The one who claimed the title by force, She refuses to acknowledge, and he is corrupted beyond the point of return. You know his most diminutive form in your Calamity.

He stared, stunned to silence. The Calamity, an incomprehensible, senseless force of destruction…the Goddess’s words implied it had once been a man. Certainly not a good one, if he had been driven to the point of mindless destruction and murder as a goal. He shuddered.

Having no Chosen, and having the title ruined by the bane of Hyrule’s existence… The Goddess trailed off, sounding weary. The goddesses of old are not cruel, Hero. This cycle is not what any would wish on Hyrule. Dinraal rarely frequents this Spring. I cannot say exactly why.

The Little Goddess is as clever as always, but the answer is surely simple.

It was a new voice which spoke then, low and drowsy in tone. The air around them heated, and steam began to rise from the waters of the Spring. He could feel the heat of it even through his boots.

Dinraal appeared in a wreath of flame, wrapped around the lip of the Spring in a lazy coil. Her head dipped into the mouth of the Spring, bigger even than the Goddess statue, blinking large, drooping orange eyes at Link.

Like Naydra and Farosh, Her scales were mostly white, bleeding to a deep red at the base where they connected to Her body. The spikes and Her two curling horns burned with internal fire, surrounded by little flickering flames, bouncing off and dancing in the grass without burning it. Her whole body radiated that same heat, sending the air around Her up in waves.

She huffed, steam leaving Her snout, Her eyes having not left Link’s face.

Hello, Little One. You wished to see me?

Still a bit stunned, he nodded a little.

Dinraal yawned, Her mouth opening wide to show rows of gleaming fangs. There was no malice in the gesture. The Little One is so kind, to give me rest…my Spring sees so few visitors that I rarely accompany it. All of Hyrule’s earth is my domain…much to attend to…haven’t you woken early, Little One?

The Goddess statue’s strange sunlight seemed to sharpen. My Hero is awake at his proper time. You are misaligned, Din.

Oh…One meant no offense. She blinked lazily, and returned Her attention to him. You have run about so often now, Little One, and to me, you are the same as ever. Different appearances hide not the Soul you carry. I am old. Confusion is natural for the elderly, no?

You are hardly Hylian, and surely do not age as one.

I am entitled to metaphor.

Not for the sake of obfuscation.

Link stared between the dragon and the Goddess statue, having no idea what to say. Were they…bickering?

Mm, the Little One surely has other things to do than listen to this silliness, Dinraal went on, Her flames burning brighter and flickering over the waters.

“Why don’t you come here?” he asked, bringing the conversation back to the point which had apparently drawn Dinraal out.

She hummed, a sleepy sort of sound, blinking heavily again. The Little Goddess explained my ‘Chosen.’ She spat the word with some disgust, Her lip curling up like a snarl for just a moment. I will not honor the wishes of so cruel a creature. No Power will come to him by my Spring. I much prefer the Little Hero…you make an excellent Chosen, Little One…you really must take it up fully again…

The Goddess sighed, the sunlight around her sharp and bright again. Din.

Oh. Did one misspeak again?

When have you not?

One does not try to. The Little One is always running about, hopping from Time to Time. All Souls are ours to care for, to see the same one so often…must I remember what he remembers as well as what I remember? Or track Time’s flight? It is not my domain.

Time is as it should be, and not relevant to now, the Goddess said firmly, as if she were speaking to a small child. There was an amusement to her unmoving smile then. Attention to the current conversation would surely solve this issue for you, Din.

One is attending! Is one not?

It is a hopeless endeavor. I could disagree, but you would only find some other way to speak out of Time.

Dinraal lifted Her head, leaning closer to peer at Link. She stared for several seconds in silence, Her breath warming the air around him. Ah. I see now. Fret not, Little One. You will have my protection at the moment required. Such kindness, to visit my Spring in all Times…

Though he had no idea what she meant by all Times, he nodded. “A visit is easy. Your Spring seems to be okay.”

Mm. I do not visit it. But the earth is mine, and so it cares for it. Although… Her eyes moved toward the south, where the quarry jutted out from the Spring. Such filth so close is not to be tolerated.

She lifted Her head out of the mouth of the Spring, growling deep enough that he could feel it in his chest. The fire surrounding Her grew hotter, and as She breathed out, more flames fanned along with her breath, dancing over the lip of the Spring and arching back down into the quarry beyond it.

A series of strange sounds happened then, whooshing flames and mechanical whining, and the earth shook once as one of the Guardians seemingly fired. He winced at the sound of the beam, but it was quickly followed by several loud thuds, heavy enough to send ripples across the Spring’s waters.

The demons are destroyed, now. Hmph. Serves them right. Thank you, Little One, for bringing this to my attention, and for allowing this one a moment’s rest. She tilted Her head back down to stare at the statue. Does the Little Goddess not think this worth a reward?

You are incorrigible. The ground rumbled, and a door opened behind the statue. My Hero is always deserving of any strength I may offer. Thank you, Hero, for returning Dinraal to Her Spring, even if only for a moment.

May we see one another again, Little One, Dinraal said, the earth rumbling as She rose, turning Her face to the sun. Your travels range wide, as does my domain. I will watch over you.

With another rumbling push, She took off from the ground, coiling up and into the air with lazy strokes, scattering warmth and flame as She went. He lost sight of Her as She flew toward the sun, indiscernible against its glow.

You have done well thus far, my Hero, the Goddess continued, drawing his attention back to her statue. Her presence was already fading. I know you will succeed…may your remaining journey be swift and smooth.

The light surrounding the statue faded, leaving him alone in the knee deep water. Without Dinraal, it had cooled slightly, and he moved quickly to wade through it and reach the shrine the Goddess had revealed.

As he left the blessing only a few moments later, he paused for a moment, and sat on the step of the shrine, staring out at the Spring from a new angle. The Goddess statue provided shade, leaving the little cave the shrine hid inside cool and dark. He could hear the steady stream of the waterfalls feeding into the Spring, and barely glimpse the little hall that led into the quarry.

There was a memory here, he knew there was. He could feel it, just out of reach. Zelda’s picture of the Spring at night came to mind again, and he held the slate in his lap to look at it, thinking over what he knew.

Zelda had prayed at each of the Springs, trying to unlock her power. He knew the Spring of Wisdom had been her last, and so this one must have come before it. But when? Had they been more like friends, then? Or had she still resented him?

“Curse you,” her remembered voice whispered in his mind, and the memory drew him under quickly.

******

A splash followed her words, and he looked back briefly to see her having given up her praying pose, her hands in fists at her sides, under the water.

The Goddess statue loomed ahead of her, dark and shadowed.

“She doesn’t mean it,” he signed quickly, then turned back to the Spring’s entrance, trying not to listen to the Princess’s words.

It was the same dance at each Spring or landmark they visited. Zelda, dressed in full ceremonial garb, standing in cold water in front of some Goddess statue or ceremonial place of honor, reciting the same words over and over in her monotonous tone, edging closer to desperation as the night dragged on. Sometimes, like now, the desperation and frustration won out, and she abandoned her “prayer” in favor of begging, or demanding explanation.

Regardless of her approach, the Goddess remained silent to her. No holy light or words. No answer to her questions or demands. No power came to her. And so the dance continued.

How the King continued to find new places or ways for her to attempt this ridiculous, clearly non-functional approach to receiving her divine power, Link did not know. What he did know was that Zelda was clearly tired, and clearly knew that she had wasted the last 10 years of her life praying to a Goddess who would not hear her.

That didn’t mean he agreed with cursing their Goddess, though. So, when she overstepped, he typically tried to patch it up.

He had never been much for prayer. The Sheikah and the royals had made him visit each Spring after drawing the Sword, when he was still small and could barely lift it so it wouldn’t drag in the dirt. But they had largely left him to his own devices when he “prayed” there, and so, being only 7, he had mostly stood in the cold water admiring the pretty Sword and talking to Fi. If the Goddess had taken kindly to his visits, he remembered no sign of it.

He did remember enjoying the Spring of Courage more than the other two, but as to why, it had been too long for him to say for certain. He’d been too young to take stock in why he felt such things. And now, as dragged down by duty and responsibility as he was, he rarely had time to visit his favorite Spring, unless forced to by Zelda.

Their visit to the Spring of Courage had been even more of a disaster than this, though. She still hated him, then, and had spent most of the before and after of her prayer berating him. The Spring had been frigid and silent that night. The water barely moved, and the skies were so clouded and stormy that not even the moonlight illuminated the statue. No response had come from the Goddess.

Here, by contrast, the waters did move, pouring endlessly down into the Spring from some hidden source, never filling past her waist. Where he stood, the water occasionally burbled up to lap at his boots, but never enough to soak in.

Still, there was no response. No change in the water, no holy presence. Nothing. Zelda remained alone, standing in cold water, praying to a smiling statue which did not hear her.

“What is it?” Zelda demanded suddenly, her voice rising in pitch. “What’s wrong with me?”

He turned back then. That was enough.

The water sloshed loudly as he entered it, and Zelda jolted, turning to face him with wide, wet eyes. Her tears had already made clean lines down her face, and her arms were wrapped around her middle. She was shivering.

He sheathed the Sword on his back and reached for her hand. She let him take it, but pulled back a little as he began to lead her toward the steps. 

“N-no, I—I have to finish.”

He shook his head.

“The prayers m-must be finished. My father—”

“No.”

She fell silent, her eyes widening further. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever spoken in front of her, but the rarity of it was enough to make her pause.

He squeezed her hand once and pulled her toward the steps out of the water. She went willingly, this time.

They walked through the small hall connecting the Spring to the quarry in silence. Zelda clung to his hand tightly now that she’d accepted they were finished for the night, sniffling occasionally as she likely tried to gather her thoughts back into something worthy of a Princess traveling.

“Change?” he spelled it out rather than trying to sign it, still holding her hand.

She nodded miserably, and let go of his hand. He left her briefly to get her pack, and after handing it over, stepped away to let her change in private.

“These are incredibly uncomfortable,” she said, her voice thick and a bit petulant. There was a clatter, likely her pulling off her bracelets and necklace. “Ceremonial clothes should suit the purpose of the ceremony. In what world is a year’s wages in tight gold arm bands meant to show my devotion to the Goddess? How do these—” she paused, and grunted, and a sandal landed a few feet away from him. “—cursed shoes show my piety and devotion?”

The other shoe joined its compatriot, and he resisted the urge to chuckle. He would give her an answer, but he’d have to turn around, and he was sure she would not appreciate that.

Her gown was soaked in the Spring’s waters, and he knew she’d left it by the sound it made when it hit the ground, a heavy, wet slop.

“How could we know the Goddess favors white? And surely She did not fight in such a heavy, useless garment. I feel more like a mushroom than a woman with the power to defeat the Calamity. Heavy, and floating and—ugh! All this evil thing is useful for is weighing me down!”

She sighed, her breath shaky. Something of her tears still lingered in her voice. “I’m finished.”

He turned around as she knelt, wringing the water from her gown with violent twists. Picking up her thrown sandals and bracelets, he helped her bundle everything up and watched impassively as she wedged it into her pack, punching it down with bared teeth when it bulged and refused to close.

“Hylia forbids a Princess travels with a sensible case, or wear clothing suited for travel,” she went on sarcastically, hefting her lopsided bag into her arms. “Instead, the Goddess insists on silly, tailor-made bags, heavy gowns, empty prayers, and other useless finery and showmanship, where the Princess must look and act a fool!”

He took the pack from her arms gently, and the wind seemed to leave her sails.

She followed quietly as he returned to their horses, waiting where they’d been tied some hour ago. Epona lifted her head from the grass, nickering at them in an almost greeting. Zelda’s horse continued to eat the weeds along the edge of the path, unconcerned or uncaring for their presence.

Zelda’s horse was notoriously a wily thing, and so he soothed it preemptively before returning her pack to its saddle. It grumbled beneath his hand, but allowed him close. The Princess remained a few steps away, glaring at her boots with shining eyes.

With their bags repacked, she stepped forward, as if expecting them to hurry off now that their ‘work’ here was finished. He caught her arm, shaking his head.

“What?” she asked, a bit short.

He nodded toward the path out of the quarry, and kept his hold on her arm as he turned.

She followed, but not without a confused glance back at their horses, still tied to the post. It was a testament to her poor mood that she did not verbally question his decision. Instead, she had returned to her other default when prayer went wrong—sullen and silent.

Zelda had two ways of reacting to her repeated ‘failures.’ She either grew cross, short, and hostile, lashing out at any and everything that came too close to the open wound of her current feelings. Or she went quiet, her eyes distant as if she’d drawn so deep into her own thought spiral that she was no longer in her body at all, having floated off somewhere below them in sinking depression.

Early in his duties guarding her, it had frequently been the former. He’d borne the brunt of her anger at the Spring of Courage, and several other places of lesser note.

Over the last several months, and particularly now, it was more likely to be the latter. Especially since the incident at the Castle only a week or so previous.

He led her up the path and over the slope out of the quarry, circling back north just a bit to where the Spring was just to their left.

Above them, the sky was clear, dotted with twinkling stars and the moon, a sliver dangling toward them like a half-closed eye. The wind blew lightly through the grass, carrying the faint scent of the sea, but thankfully not cooling the air too much. Death Mountain’s proximity ensured Akkala had a warmer temperature than the more tepid Necluda or chilly Lanayru.

He had no grand destination in mind, and so settled for sitting at the peak of the slope, where he could see the distant glow of the lighthouse to the east and the winking lights of the Shadow Hamlet’s barracks to the west.

After looking around them as if for some landmark, Zelda joined him, folding her legs beneath herself and sitting with a slump. She stared at her hands in her lap, quiet for a moment.

It didn’t last very long though.

“Shouldn’t we return to the Citadel?”

He looked her way. She watched him with a confused furrow to her brow. But the tear tracks hadn’t quite disappeared from her cheeks.

He shook his head. “We have time.”

“Time.” She looked away, this time choosing to look deeper into Akkala, eyes unseeing. “I don’t know if I believe you…”

He hummed, but offered no reply.

In the way she seemed to be thinking, he knew she was right. They were running out of time. He could feel it, like the sense for a coming storm as he stepped out of the house in the morning, or the foreboding that came in the two seconds before a monster’s horn shrieked an oncoming attack.

Sometime soon, the Calamity would return. And their destiny would be forced upon them, ready or not. It was unavoidable. It could not be stopped or slowed. Zelda did not have all the time she may have needed to find this power within herself.

But in the way he meant, in the immediate sense, the sense of today, she was wrong.

He nudged her shoulder for her attention before signing. She looked his way wearily, eyes heavy.

“Worry about today. We have time today…we don’t have to go back to the Citadel yet.”

“People will talk.”

“They’ll do it anyway.”

She blinked at him, uncomprehending.

“You’re the Princess,” he signed with a shrug. “People talk when you change what boots you wear when riding, or when you do your hair differently. They’re going to talk. They always talk. It’s no reason to let it shape you to the point of hurting you.”

“But—”

He shook his head again, more forcefully. “You need a minute. It’s okay.”

Tears welled in her eyes again, and she looked away, shoulders drawn high. She pulled her knees to her chest, looking much younger then than she was (and she was young already).

“I don’t think…a minute will be enough,” she said haltingly, her voice croaking and thick.

He moved closer, leaning his shoulder on hers, and that seemed to be enough to break her. Burying her face in her knees, her shoulders shook with suppressed sobs.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after a moment, her voice muffled by tears and her position. “I’m so sorry. You’re trying so hard, and I—”

He shook his head, even knowing she would not look up to see it, and wrapped his arms around her. She was small in his embrace, but sank into it like one who’d never been hugged, clinging and stiff at the same time.

“I can’t do it,” she choked out after another moment, her crying making her pause, taking deep, shaking breaths as she clung to his tunic. “I c-can’t, no matter what I try! Nothing works…it’s hopeless.”

He pulled her away enough to make her look at him, shaking his head firmly. “Not hopeless,” he signed, equally firm. “And not your fault. You can’t make this happen. It just has to happen.”

“But…” she sniffled again, her hands clenching. “My father—”

“He’s wrong,” he cut her off gently, knowing he was right. It was the same reason he had pulled her from the Spring earlier. “You can’t force the Goddess to acknowledge you. If that’s even how getting your power works. No one knows, not even your father, clearly. And even if it was the way, it’s not your fault that what you’ve been doing hasn’t been working. You’ve been praying for years.”

She sobbed again at that, scrubbing at her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. A-and I—he won’t allow me to help with the machines, o-or train with a weapon, or—or anything!”

He frowned at that. He knew that Zelda had no combat training. Being Princess, that wasn’t terribly surprising. But to learn it was because her father had told her no, that was news.

Zelda was a researcher at heart, as voracious in the seeking of knowledge as Purah and Robbie. She wanted to learn, more than anything else. Thinking back on it, it wasn’t so surprising to hear she wanted to learn to defend herself. If she had voiced that request when she had still hated him…That wasn’t worth thinking about now, though.

He could do nothing to take back the orders the King had given. Zelda was not allowed to assist the Sheikah with their research. But training with a weapon…

He nudged her hands down away from her eyes, both to stop her from rubbing at them so intensely and to make sure she could see his gestures.

“What do you want to learn?”

She stared, uncomprehendingly, for a few moments. “W-what?”

“To fight,” he clarified. “What did you want to learn?”

“Oh…I…I never thought very deeply about it. There are legends of past Princesses wielding a bow or sword…but I have no preference for either. Having you as my knight certainly covers those two areas well,” she added, laughing a bit wetly.

He smiled a little at the compliment. “I can defend you, yes. But it’s still good to know some things, if I’m…not here.”

Her smile slipped, and she looked at her lap again. “I’m sorry…for…for running away so often. I know…I know I made your life very difficult when I did.”

She was likely thinking of the desert, and the incident with the Yiga, but there were…an unfortunate number of examples. Still, he waved a hand dismissively. It was in the past, and he’d gotten to her in time in each scenario. There wasn’t any need for guilt when she had clearly made efforts to change.

“What do you want to learn?” he asked again.

Her brow furrowed as she thought, worrying at her lip. “What…what would you recommend?”

He hummed. “If you want to hide it from your father, that rules out most larger weapons. Sword, spear, claymore—they’d require you to build muscle here,” he poked her in the arm, earning a sour look. “It would be obvious you were training. And the moment you needed to defend yourself, it would be even more obvious, if you needed to find or grab a weapon.”

“The same would go for a bow, then,” she said, nodding. “In that I would need to carry one, or have one available…”

“Yes. Requires draw strength, as well. Hylian shooting especially. Bows are heavy.”

“Ugh. I’ve seen those things they give to the Royal Guards. Yours was terribly heavy at the ceremony, and all I had to do was give it to you. I thought it would topple me over, for certain.”

He smiled. “It’s why I barely use it. Rito bows are lighter, faster. And ‘Vali trained me, so I shoot more like a Rito than a Hylian.”

“So I’ve seen. You jump off Epona more than I’ve ever seen a horse tolerate.”

Nodding, he returned to their previous topic. “If we rule out the larger weapons, that might work better for you. Easier to hide from your father, and easier to hide from people who’d attack you. Things you could hide in your clothes, or in your boots. Last defenses.”

“Like your dagger.”

Although he was surprised she’d remembered it, he nodded again, pulling it from his boot and holding it in his hand. It wasn’t much longer than his hand, but it was sharp, and perfect for throwing. Pointing the blade toward himself, he offered her the hilt. She took it carefully, weighing the blade in her hands.

“Requires close combat, or throwing,” he signed, watching closely as she tested the balance. “I use mine as a last resort. But it doesn’t have to be only a last resort. You can keep them here too.”

He gestured to his arm guards, and her eyes brightened. “I could hide a knife in my sleeves. Even my gowns have space.”

“Not a bad idea. Boots too.”

“Can you teach me?” she leaned forward, her eyes bright and earnest. She held the dagger by the hilt, adjusting her fingers as if trying to figure out how to hold it. “I…I want to be able to defend myself. I want to know that I can…that even if I cannot unlock this power, I will have something which I can use to help, even if…even if it is only to save myself.”

Her voice was small again as she finished, but his quick nod seemed to boost her spirits again. “I can help.”

She smiled brightly. The weak moonlight still shone off the drying tears on her face, but her eyes were light and pleased.

He pushed to his feet, offering her a hand.

“Now?” she asked, holding more tightly to the knife.

“The sooner the better. You’ll like throwing knives, I’m sure of it. It might make you feel better.”

“Perhaps you’re right…” Mirroring his previous gesture, she carefully turned the dagger in her hand, holding it out for him to take back. He took it, tucked it back into his boot, then pulled her to her feet. “I think I should like to break something. That would help get rid of this ugly feeling in my chest, without ruining any more of my clothes...”

“Maybe your power’s hiding in some trees we can throw knives at.”

“Ha! I like this idea.” She laced her arm with his, pointing toward the nearest copse of trees. “Come, my Champion, we must rid these trees of Calamity Ganon. Only fine blades will do, thrown by the Princess and her knight.”

He gave her a sloppy salute, earning another laugh. They marched off toward the trees together, tears, failed prayers, and impending Calamity momentarily forgotten.