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“Dad? When do you think Link will visit?”
Teba sighs – he’s been doing that a lot these past few days, a week after the defeat of Calamity Ganon. Life hasn’t changed…much, that is. But there is a certain lightness in the air, like the whole world took a collective breath as a weight fell away forever. Rito Village has gained more travelers, tourists, and merchants alike, in such a short amount of time. Elder Kaneli has already mused about expanding the village to fit all the influx of people coming in. That, and them finally being able to fix all the damages their home had sustained over the century, when they had been unable to retrieve all the necessary materials for upkeep due to the rampaging Vah Medoh and overwhelming monster population. One week of true freedom and everything’s been getting livelier again.
“I don’t know, son,” he finally answers the fledgling, never taking his eyes off the bow he’s fixing up in his lap, “he’ll get here when he gets here.”
Tulin groans from his place at the window overlooking the village. “You said that yesterday!”
“And I’ll say it again tomorrow,” Teba grunts before finally glancing at the little boy. He’s pouting at him, small beak curled in displeasure. “Don’t look at me like that. Link’s probably been busy lately – I’m sure he’s got much to tell to the Princess, don’t you think?”
The kid gives off a heart-wrenching sigh. “I know, but can’t he come and tell her everything here? Y’know, over dinner or something? I miss him.” Curling up on the window sill, Tulin’s shoulders sag as he leans against the frame, eyes still glued to the horizon like he’s expecting the Hero of Hyrule to fly in at any moment.
Teba’s heart squeezes at the sad sight. He gets up from his pillow to pat his son’s head a few times before wandering off to stash his repaired bow away, encountering Saki as he does so. She’s currently peeling an apple in the kitchen nook, humming softly to herself as she cuts the fruit up in beak-friendly snack sizes, dropping them into a bowl.
“He’s asking again, isn’t he,” she says in a low voice when Teba approaches. She gives him a reassuring look, even as he sighs.
“It’s been a week, Saki,” he mutters, eyes searching the horizon as well through the kitchen window. “I just hope they’re alright.”
She hums in agreement. “Me too.”
With the apple now fully sliced up, she puts the knife away and shakes out her feathered hands, resting them on the sides of the bowl. She’s silent for a little while, before turning to look at him with eyes full of worry. “Darling…you don’t think he…that the both of them, during the defeat, that it–”
Immediately, Teba shakes his head. “No,” he says firmly, stepping closer to lay a comforting hand against Saki’s lower back. “No, my love, don’t even think that. Link is a strong warrior and the Princess…well, she’s held the beast at bay for over a century.”
“I know, I know, I just…” Saki too now lets her gaze sweep over the horizon. A mild breeze enters their roost, gently caressing their feathers and bringing the scent of a newborn world with it. “He’s so young, Teba. If he were a Rito, I’m sure he’d still have his cheek-spots. The Princess can’t be much older than him, too.”
When she looks back at her husband, he too is wearing a look of vague sadness and concern. For a moment, they both say nothing, but know exactly what the other is thinking – Tulin in Link’s place, young and alone, burdened with the task of saving all of Hyrule and not knowing if he’d make it out alive or not. Saki’s eyes flutter close in grief at the mere idea, and she leans in to bump foreheads with Teba. The soft gesture brings them both comfort.
They don’t talk about it any further – instead, they return to the living room, hauling Tulin into their arms as they sit together and eat the apple pieces. They all sit a little closer, hold on a little tighter, all wishing for another body in their midst; one that is void of feathers, with eyes as blue as the wild sea and equally wild hair of sandy gold.
And that night, as all sleeps and rests, Teba turns to bury his face in his wife’s neck, feeling her soft feathers tickle his eyelids.
“We should get a spare bed. A real one, fit for a Hylian.”
For a moment, he thinks she’s asleep already. Then;
“I think so, too. We should see what we can do.”
Teba’s still tense when he finally falls asleep – no matter the amount of rest he’s gotten in those few weeks, he still feels restless, like a live shock arrow, energy crackling over his feathers, wishing nothing more but to fly true into the sky and locate a boy he’s been feeling increasingly protective of. Instead, he waits and hopes, that those wild eyes come back.
The next day, Teba rises early with the sun.
The warm rays bounce over the hills and mountain ranges of the Hebra region, bathing everything in the bright hues of orange and gold. Everything feels fresh and at peace, like the earth had settled herself, finally exhaling in the aftermath of the Calamity’s defeat.
He breathes in the morning breeze, dotted with the scent of morning dew, and lets it settle deep within his lungs. This is good. Life is good. Talons curling over the edge of the short landing attached to every roost, he spreads his wings, relishing the wind catching beneath his feathers. With a leap, he’s in the air, sailing on the breeze.
The world feels reborn. He’s never found it as beautiful as right at this moment.
He stays airborne for a little longer than usual before descending upon his favorite fishing spot – Saki’s been commenting on having traded new recipes with Amali, a few of them involving Hyrule Bass. So, like any good husband does, he indulges in his wife’s occasional whims.
By the time he’s collected a good amount of sizeable fish, the sun has risen higher, blessing all of Hyrule with a beautifully bright morning. Teba yawns and stretches – it’s been a good haul today. Slinging the fish over his back and securing them in the carrier net, he makes his way back to the village, entering his roost with a gentle flurry of snow-hued feathers. The village is lively, already bustling with noise.
“Saki,” he calls as he retrieves the fish, walking over to the kitchen nook to store them in the ice chest. “I got you that bass you wanted to try out. Pretty big ones too, think it’ll last?” Cold fog spills over the rim of the ice chest when he opens it, picking the fish out of the bag one by one. When he doesn’t hear an answer, he pauses and looks around. “Saki?”
“Teba!” He nearly jumps at the unexpectedly loud call of his name. “Teba, come quick!”
He doesn’t question it – throwing the whole net into the chest and slamming it close, he jumps up, grabbing his nearby bow to run out onto the walkways.
“What’s wrong?” he very near demands, already nocking an arrow in case some unwelcome monster needed to be reminded why they didn’t mess with the Rito. But instead of seeing any immediate danger, Saki greets him with a face of pure delight.
“It’s Link,” she tells him almost breathlessly, “he’s here!”
Blinking incredulously, Teba sheathes his bow to his back in record time before he and Saki hurry over to the nearby railing, leaning over it to catch a glimpse of the small gathering that’s taking place at the base of the village. Tourists and Ritos alike stretch their necks to see better, an excited murmur going through the crowd. As Teba squints, he can make out a familiar head of wild, dirty-blond hair meeting Mazli at the entrance.
It is Link. It has to be.
At least his wife seems to think so, because Saki already clambers over the railing, her usual gentle demeanor gone. She spreads her wings and leaps, ignoring Teba’s surprised squawk as she glides down the length of their home, only flapping her wings to slow her descent when she touches down on the entrance steps, Teba not far behind.
“Link!” she cries, her talons scraping along the wood as the crowd parts around her to let her and her husband through. As soon as she gets within arms length of the Hylian boy, the very same one she had bandaged up and fed and watched over in his sleep after his arduous task of calming Vah Medoh, she pulls him in and crushes him against her chest.
Link doesn’t seem to mind, not with how Teba can see his fingers bury themselves into Saki’s feathers, clinging to her just as hard. For a moment, he feels like he just remembered how to fully, freely breathe again, seeing the young champion alive.
He’s alive.
“Oh, my sweet, I am so glad to see you again,” Saki trills with relief, before pulling away to get a good look at the teenager. He mostly looks the same, all wild eyes and wild hair, scuff marks on his cheeks and Champion’s tunic looking worse for wear. It’s stained with mud and perhaps dried blood and there are bandages everywhere, including his face, which she cradles with her big hands. “You poor thing, look at you. You look exhausted.”
Link laughs at that, the noise rough from hardly used vocal cords and clogged with emotions welling up in his watery eyes. It’s the best sound Teba has heard in a week.
“I’m okay,” the Hylian signs as Teba sidles up behind his wife, lifting a wing to cup the back of Link’s head. The blond strands feel greasy and knotted under his feathers, but it does not matter. He slides his hand down to the back of the kid’s neck, squeezing ever so slightly with affection.
“We know,” he tells him softly, “you did good, kid. You did good.” As he says this, he makes sure to gently thumb away the one stray tear that escapes Link’s eye. Hylia above and literally every single damn deity that is out there, thank you for bringing that boy back to him and his family.
Saki starts squishing the teen’s face searchingly, pinching his cheeks and brows furrowing. “You seem thin, Link. You should rest and stay for lunch, Tulin will be over the moon to see you again.”
Link chuckles, small and quiet, before he signs. “We could use something to eat.”
Teba blinks. “‘We’?”
He watches the other smile, bright and boyish in a way that he’s seen so rarely on the boy’s face. It’s a kind of joy that wipes all exhaustion from his features and pales the rings under his eyes as he steps back a little to turn towards a figure just short behind him. Teba can hear Saki gasp softly, and even he can’t help the subtle drop of his jaw.
She’s a small, pale thing. All long golden hair and bright sea-green eyes, reminiscent of a calm lake on a sunny day, the tips of her pointed ears ruddy from the cool winds blowing continuously through the Hebra mountains. The too big Warm Doublet she’s wearing only accentuates her small stature, hanging from her narrow shoulders as she watches them all from a polite distance.
There’s no mistake – Teba’s heard all the stories of a lone princess with golden hair and godly ichor in her veins, facing the Dark Beast all on her own, confining herself in a ruined castle she once called Home and making it her prison for the greater good. Rumors had it she’s still alive, holding the Calamity at bay, one on one, an ancient evil full of unadulterated hate and malice versus one teenager, who just happens to have Hylia’s blood within her.
Princess Zelda is so much smaller than he had imagined.
Despite the palpable excitement and astonishment in the crowd, a hush befalls them all. Watching, waiting. Zelda watches them all in turn, fingers knotted before her. Teba sees her swallow – he remembers Tulin, the very first time he attempted to fly, nervous and afraid at the edge of the Landing.
He steps around Saki and Link, approaching the young princess gently. Stopping just a short distance before her, he stretches his foot out and folds a wing over his chest, hand resting above his heart as he bows.
“Princess Zelda,” he greets her, his voice near booming over the anticipatory silence of the crowd. “Welcome back.”
And like a spell broken, he can hear the rustling of feathers and clothes alike, villagers and visitors all bowing before their long-lost princess and welcoming her back home to Hyrule. Teba glances up to see her flustered, her shaky hands coming up in surprise.
“O-Oh, please, you’re too kind, I’m not– I don’t–” she bites her bottom lip, eyes shiny as she takes a breath before bowing her head towards them all. “Thank you…thank you all very much.”
She seems overwhelmed, whether it’s the emotions or all the people, Teba isn’t sure. He straightens back up, feeling Saki approach his side as Link places a comforting hand on the princess’s shoulder. They exchange a small smile together and his heart squeezes – they look so young.
“Your highness,” Saki begins, eyes sparkling with mirth, “would you too like to stay for lunch? It would be an honor to host you.”
Zelda blushes. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose! You and Link seem to have some catching up to do, and– and I should probably contact the Elder. After all, Hyrule still needs to get sorted and–” she stops her rambling when Link gently grips her hand, causing her to look at him.
He’s smiling still, soft and understanding. “Saki makes a mean Fish Pie,” he says, so quiet it barely seems like a whisper. Said Rito hears him anyway, and she titters.
“Oh, I hear the request loud and clear.”
Link only grins, absolutely shameless, and Teba shakes his head in amusement. “Well, let’s not wait, then. Good thing we stocked up.”
Saki elbows him. “And you said I was beginning to hoard,” she tells him flippantly, with a pointed look that has him glance off to the side almost sheepishly.
“Yes, yes, dear, you were right. As always,” he sighs, smiling inwardly at the bright chuckles of his wife. They both lead the Hylians onto the steps, the crowd around them becoming lively with big smiles and excited murmurs. They’ve just cleared the first landing with the Goddess statue on it, when Teba hears Mazli slam the butt of his spear onto the wood, getting the crowd’s attention.
“The Princess has returned!”
And the crowd erupts in cheers.
The people don’t close in, keeping a respectful distance, and instead call down well-wishes and hoorays, Rito victory trills weaving into the jubilant noise. It feels like the whole village is singing, loud and proud and unafraid, because finally, hope has arrived. Hyrule can bloom again.
Teba smiles slightly, exchanging knowing looks with Saki as they both watch Zelda stare all around her, surrounded by people who have hoped for her safe return. Her big eyes begin to go watery again, emotions filling her face as her mouth wobbles into a near disbelieving smile. Her hand tightens around Link’s imperceptibly and Teba thinks, that things will be okay.
The roost of the Rito pair is quaint and homely.
Zelda sits primly on the cushion of the kotatsu standing in the center of the roost’s living space. The warmth from the table seeps into her every limb, and she sighs with relief – it’s been so long since she felt such warmth after having been cold so long. She’d forgotten just how freezing the hebrean winds could be and had only managed to stave them off with some of Link’s armor, however ill-fitting they are on her thin frame. Subtly, she scratches her side – despite the warmth of the Doublet, it’s rather itchy.
Idly, she watches how the female Rito – Saki, Link had called her – bustles around near the kitchen nook, fussing over the fish her…husband, perhaps, had procured. Her eyes wander further around the home, taking in the dark, old yet strong wood, built into a high peak to allow some attic-like spaces above her head. There are hammocks strung up between the beams, one big enough to comfortably fit two full-grown Ritos and another much smaller hammock, which has Zelda blink in mild confusion. Who could possibly fit in such a tiny hammock?
Her answer comes in on hasty wings, all clumsy and askew, down feathers flying everywhere as a fledgling Rito all but crash-lands into the living space. Poor thing would’ve fallen flat on their beak, had Link, who’s sitting close to the entrance, having busied himself with toeing off his boots despite the cool weather, not immediately stretched his arms out to catch the child. For a moment, there’s a wild tangle of limbs and white feathers, interspersed with Saki’s incredulous; “Tulin, would you please slow down? You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Then, a bright giggle. “Link!” cheers Tulin, his little wings spread to look up at Zelda’s companion with big eyes. “You’re finally here! I missed you!”
Zelda watches how her knight, once so stoic and passive, breaks out into a broad grin, giggling along with the fledgling in his arms as he ducks his head down to press it up against Tulin’s chubby cheeks. Clearly, the boy has missed his little friend just as much. It makes her smile.
Despite his lonely journey and all the pain that came with it, from the battles and their shared history, he’s found people. People who care for his return and await it with hopes. It brings a special kind of peace in her heart.
She breaks out of her little reverie, when she hears someone settle opposite her at the kotatsu. It’s the snow-feathered Rito with the sharp beak and even sharper eyes, a near scorching yellow that hone in on her like a Guardian’s laser. She quickly found that this is just the way he looks, and not him scrutinizing her to find something to criticize. What was the word Link had whispered in her ear, when they had followed the Rito and his wife to their roost?
A grumpy-pants?
It takes her everything to keep a neutral face as to not give away the fact, that she can see what Link meant. The Rito across from her folds his large hands over his lap, dipping his head lightly in her direction.
“Princess,” he begins politely, voice deep yet strangely soothing, “I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves, my apologies for this oversight.”
Zelda shakes her head with a small smile. “Please, it’s no issue. I’m Zelda – just Zelda.” For now, at least, she thinks before dipping her head as well. “It is nice to meet you.”
She watches how the corners of his beak curve upwards ever so slightly. “Likewise, Lady Zelda. My name is Teba, son of Tansa and Fyla.” He looks over to the kitchen nook and Zelda follows – Saki is already hard at work preparing the fish-pie, assisted by Link, who’s kneading the dough for the crust. All the while, Tulin stands on a small chair next to the Hylian, tail feathers wiggling in obvious excitement. “And this is my family; my wife Saki, daughter of Rabu and Helmena, and our son Tulin.” There’s a brief pause and Zelda looks at him, finding Teba has his eyes set on Link’s back, beak parting slightly as if he wants to add something, before reconsidering. “You already know Link, I suppose.”
Said Hylian turns his head, carrot stick jutting out of his munching mouth as he waves at Zelda. Tulin peeks at her from around Link’s legs, big baby-blues shining with curiosity.
“Psst, Link!” he whisper-yells, oblivious to how audible he actually still is as he tugs at Link’s pants. “Is that really Princess Zelda?”
The knight nods conspiratorially, and Tulin’s eyes go wide as he looks at her again. Then, in the same audible whisper-yell; “She’s very pretty like a princess.”
Zelda can feel herself blush slightly as she muffles her giggles into her hand and sees Teba shake his head in amusement.
“So, how was the journey?” he asks conversationally. “It’s…been so long for you. Hyrule must look different to you.”
A pleasant and polite denial lies ready on her tongue, prepped and drilled into her head to appear collected and unbothered as the resident princess – but she isn’t. At least, not officially. Or at all.
This is a normal conversation. Not the royal court, not fellow nobles, not employees of her and her father and the royal crown. Right here, right now, she is just Zelda, invited into a humble home by unfailingly kind people for a simple lunch. So, will she dare to finally break away from the political face of the put-together royal princess?
She takes a breath.
“It does,” she says quietly over the busy noise coming from the kitchen nook. She hears a flap of feathers and a yelp, no doubt Link getting caught red-handed trying to snack again. “Everything is…overgrown. The fields are bigger, the hills are greener, the trees abundant. Civilization…few and far apart.” Her eyes fall onto the wooden tabletop, almost mournful. “I’ve never really grasped how big this land actually is. City and village ruins are overrun by the wild and despite it all, the greenery, the forests, it all feels so…empty.”
Teba nods in understanding. “The Calamity has put a right dent into the population and with all the malice-mad monsters we had running around, attacking everything on sight. Even a century had not been enough to recover from it.” His gaze sweeps over to a nearby window, eyeing the skyline dotted with the Hebra mountain ranges. “Many of the races have been reduced to a single city, gathering as many survivors as possible. Goddess knows how many more had been scattered in all the winds, hidden away or, well…” he doesn’t continue, but Zelda understands.
So many people – Hylians, Zoras, Gerudos, Ritos and Gorons. They’ve all lost their lives. Whole families and generations, lost within the flames of the Calamity. And all because she couldn’t– all because she couldn’t unlock her powers earlier.
Her fingers curl into the palm of her hands, balled up in her lap, the nails biting the flesh, when Teba clearing his throat got her attention again. He looks uncomfortable, yet strangely apologetic.
“My apologies, this was supposed to be about your journey.”
“Oh!” Zelda perks up, grateful for the subject change. “Oh, yes, of course. It was good. Brilliant in fact.” She can feel herself start to smile. “Nature’s takeover has cultivated many new species of plants, even recovering endangered specimens, such various fungi, herbs and flowers. The Silent Princess, for example, had been quite rare, even in the wild, due to the specific conditions that have to be met for them to grow and bloom at their fullest potential! My theory is that the lack of continuous foot-travel has allowed them to experience calmer and more stable soil conditions, allowing them to finally establish a set life-cycle, and now that their pollen can travel farther than ever before they–” she interrupts herself with a start, suddenly realizing she’s been blabbing on about a flower of all things, her hands having left her lap to gesticulate in the air. “I– uh.”
Across from her, Teba eyes her attentively, head tilting slightly to the side in question at her sudden silence. He doesn’t seem the least put off, yet Zelda still feels the urge to apologize for her ramble, when a small voice pipes up from next to her.
“Is the Silent Princess a plant?” Tulin asks, apparently having separated from Link to listen to the conversation between Zelda and his father.
“It’s a flower,” Teba tells him, “you’ve seen it before. I’m sure Lady Zelda knows a whole lot about them.”
Tulin regards her with big eyes. “You do? What’s it look like?”
“Oh, well,” she fumbles, when an idea hits her. “Actually, I can even show you!” With deft fingers, she unhooks the Sheikah Slate from its pouch on her hip and with a touch, the screen lights up. She can feel how Tulin sidles up next to her, unconcerned about personal space, but she doesn’t mind.
“Oh, hey! You got Link’s plate-thingy!” the boy points out.
“It’s a slate, Tulin,” Teba corrects him gently.
Zelda titters, selecting the compendium album on the slate and swiping through the rows and rows of snapshots. Her and Link’s travels have filled it up substantially.
“Here,” she says, selecting the flower’s picture and showing it to the fledgling. “This is the Silent Princess – they used to be quite rare.”
Tulin regards the photo with bright eyes. “Oh, yeah, I know them! Dad brought one home once for Mom. Apparently he went through a lot of trouble to fetch one!”
Zelda can see Teba frantically shaking his head at his oblivious child, when Saki’s voice pipes up.
“Trouble?” she asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously as she looks over at her husband. “What kind of trouble?”
“It’s nothing,” he says hastily.
“He flew into a monster camp!” Tulin whisper-yells to Zelda as his father uses one of his wings to cover his face, trying to escape Saki’s glare. Despite feeling bad to have accidentally put the Rito on the spot, Zelda can’t help but giggle. At the fledgling’s curious insistence, she spends the rest of her wait with showing Tulin the compendium and happily answering all the questions he has. And he has a lot – she guesses it comes with being a child. But it doesn’t diminish her excitement to once again explain the vast flora and fauna of the land.
“Oh, you’ve got chillshrooms!” Tulin points to the blue mushrooms displayed on the slate. Apparently, the boy had warmed up to her so rapidly, he has no problems with making himself comfortable on her lap, under the watchful gaze of his father of course. The older Rito hasn’t contributed much to the conversation, seemingly content enough to let them chatter on.
She smiles. “Do you like chillshrooms?”
“Mmh, not really,” he says, “they’re weirdly crunchy even when cooked.”
“Fascinating!”
They swipe through more photos, when a heavenly, mouth-watering smell hits her full force. She looks up to see Saki place a big tray onto the table; the dish is steaming still, a golden, fish-shaped crust oozing juice from the sides and garnished with some herbs. It looks and smells delicious.
An audible gurgling sound fills the room.
Zelda blushes up to the tips of her ears the moment she realizes it’s her stomach. “O-Oh, pardon me…”
Tulin snickers as his mother gives her a soft smile. “Please, I take that as a compliment. Lunch is ready now. Link, could you please fetch the plates?”
He nods obediently, humming a tune under his breath as he weaves around the Ritos, Tulin having asked for lemonade and Teba stating he’ll go take a look if there is some left. Zelda watches in mild fascination how intimate Link seems to know the family’s roost, rummaging through all the right cupboards and drawers to get plates and cutlery. He fits in so seamlessly, setting up the table with Tulin, who got them all cups, and finally settles next to her.
He’s smiling now, at the fish pie and then at her, eyes twinkling. She smiles back, her heart full at the sight of his happiness.
Tulin hurries to sit across from Link, already gripping his cutlery, as Saki takes the seat next to him. “Dear, are you ready?”
“Coming,” Teba calls back and emerges not a second later, clay jug in hands. “You’re in luck, kids, we’ve got some wild berry lemonade left after all.”
Even Zelda finds herself excited – it’s been so long since she had such a sweet drink. With the jug set on the table, Teba lowers himself at the head of it. Saki turns to her, eyes sparkling.
“Lady Zelda, would you do us the honor and bless the food for us?”
She blinks, surprised. “Me? I– yes. I–” she flusters. “My apologies, it’s– it’s been a while.”
“It’s okay!” Tulin encourages her, bless his heart. “You can use anything.”
“Anything?”
“Anything,” Teba confirms, shooting his son a wry but amused look. “Last week he blessed the food upon salmon and wild berries.”
That gets a laugh out of her and she relaxes. “Well…I better do it before the food gets cold.” She lifts a hand, her palm facing the food as she speaks. “May the three golden goddesses bless this bounty, to nourish us and feed the hungry, so we may continue to serve their grace another day.”
Saki nods gratefully, before smiling. “Thank you, Lady Zelda. Now, who’s hungry?”
Tulin pipes up almost immediately, just in time for Link to hold his plate up expectantly. Teba scolds them both for being impatient.
“We have a guest,” he tells them and snorts when Link signs at him that he’s a guest too. “With how much you raid our ice chest, I beg to differ.”
Link’s mouth drops open in affront and Zelda snickers very unladylike as Teba takes her plate, so Saki can deposit the first portion on it. It looks positively heavenly, and it takes her every ounce of self-control not to shovel the whole plate into her mouth immediately. Her knight seems to ignore that instinct entirely and just begins to dig in heartily. It’s a mess affair, and yet it looks so very tempting to abandon her polite little bites. The flavors on her tongue are rich, tangy and salty, coupled with the crisp butteriness of the crust and the mild crunch of the vegetables. The fish is fatty and succulent, and Zelda finally breaks.
With one hand she, like Link, lifts her plate up to her mouth, fork messily breaking the pie apart before unceremoniously shoveling it down her gullet. Her tongue burns at the too warm temperature, but she doesn’t care – it’s so good and delicious, she cannot fathom any other way to enjoy it. She almost feels out of breath when she scrapes her plate clean and even thinks about licking the sauce off, when she finally comes to. Her face burns with shame as she lowers her plate, feeling the splatter of sauce on the corner of her mouth – but finds that everyone has devolved into casual conversations, apparently not minding her behavior one bit.
Saki seems to notice her pause and smiles. “Seconds?” she asks, already reaching for the serving spoon.
Zelda only nods mutely, giving her the plate and watching how the Rito serves her another big portion. Adjacent to her, Teba tells both Tulin and Link to slow down before they choke as he begins to pour everyone a glass of the lemonade.
“By Hylia, boy, you have more hair than food in your mouth,” he says to Link with humor in his voice. “When will you learn to braid your own snowquill properly?”
“But I like it when you do it for me,” is the signed reply.
“I’ll do it for you, Link!” Tulin volunteers.
“Tulin, don’t talk with your mouth full.”
It’s a picturesque family scene – everyone gathered around the table, enjoying food together, sitting close and warm. The conversation ranges from archery training to grocery plans to harmless village gossip. It is humble and mundane, so unlike the meals Zelda remembers; her, sitting across from her father at a long dining table, feeling so far away and cold. Conversations would be short and tense, full of work and prophecy progress and more work.
“I’m glad to see that you like the pie, Lady Zelda, it is one of my better recipes– oh.”
Zelda can feel the plate in her hands, but it takes her a few seconds to notice how blurry her sight had gotten. She blinks, almost incredulous, as fat tears run down her cheeks.
“Ah, I– I’m sorry, I just–” By the goddess, what a pitiful sight she must be; hair matted by days of travel, too big coat hanging from her shoulders, sauce on her face and now crying like she’s a toddler again. Quickly, she sets down her plate, so she won’t risk dropping it as she tries to wipe her eyes. “M-My apologies, I don’t know what came over me…”
Unbeknownst to her, Saki and Teba exchange a knowing glance. She can feel Link’s warm hand rest on her shoulder, a welcome and reassuring weight. It had taken her days to get even a fraction used to touch again, having spent one hundred years all alone, surrounded only by magic and writhing malice. It was a place she couldn’t and still can’t really describe – a world empty and yet not, endless darkness, so dead and yet alive. There, time meant nothing. Eating, breathing, sleeping, it was all obsolete in the face of keeping a nigh unimaginable evil at bay.
She had been so lonely, encased in nothing and everything. Watching the world outside pass by like a crawling fog, hoping and praying for the moment, when she will feel the awakening of the light. Hyrule’s light. Her light, her hope – Link. To feel his heartbeat grow sturdy and steady in her conscious…it had been the most alive she felt in a century.
“It’s okay to cry, Princess!” Tulin pipes up, childish optimism breaking through Zelda’s darkened mind like sunshine through clouds. “Link did too when he had dinner with us after Vah Medoh!”
Trying her best, Zelda blinks through her tears and hears Link make a displeased grunt, before immediately following it with a hissed shushing sound.
“What? It’s true!” the fledgling argues. “You cried as hard as Molli when she dropped her doll into Lake Totori!”
As she dries her cheeks with her hand, Zelda watches how her friend’s face gets pink with embarrassment, his ears tilting upwards with mild agitation. He does a choked off sound, raising his hands to wring the air, looking outraged.
“I did not!” he signs so furiously, they can hear the movements.
“Tulin, it’s not nice to embarrass people like that,” Saki admonishes her son, causing Link to make another reedy sound of protest, most likely to convey that he wasn’t embarrassed.
Teba chortles quietly to himself, until he meets his wife’s warning glance, to which he promptly clears his throat. “Your mother is right, little chick,” he says sagely, before hiding his next words behind his cup as he takes a drink. “Though, I gotta admit, I’ve never seen anyone cry so hard into their meat-stuffed pumpkin before.”
Link groans, hiding his face behind his hands, as Tulin laughs joyously at the memory. Not even Saki’s dismayed reprimand was enough to stop the giggling. And even with the initial act of the memory itself having been born from the same sadness that had crested in Zelda’s chest, to see such familiarity, warm and embracing…the fact that now it can be looked upon with mirth…
The chuckle rising in her throat jumps from her tongue with little effort. More follow, tumbling over her teeth like rain. The sound has one cerulean eye peeking out from between a gap in Link’s fingers, but she can hardly see it anymore. Her smile grows so big, her cheeks bunch up so much it turns her eyes into cheerful crescent moons as she laughs and laughs and laughs. New tears spring up into her eyes – sweeter this time.
She feels Link desperately paw at her arm, that once so stoic, so passive face pulled into a comical expression of betrayal. That only makes her laugh harder as she tries to fend off his pokes and prods with one hand. Her chest heaves, her sides hurt, her throat feels dry – it feels so good. In between her own laughter, she still hears Tulin, laughing with her. She also hears Saki’s voice, tired but amused all the same.
“Now look what you’ve started, Teba.”
“Look, I just thought–”
The marital bickering weaves itself seamlessly into the cacophony currently taking place at the table, and Zelda has to brace herself at the edge of it, when she feels Link slump against her. His shoulders are moving, jumping up and down like her own. He’s hiding his warm face behind her shoulder blade, and her ears pick up the sound of soft laughter and snorts.
By the time she finally finishes her second helping, it’s already cold – but delicious all the same. Her cheeks hurt, and it’s a welcome pain for once.
Zelda does not go to the village elder after lunch.
Not with Tulin immediately throwing himself back into her lap, eagerly asking to see the Sheikah slate again. And how is Zelda supposed to say No to those big, big eyes? So, the two of them resume their little activity of browsing the compendium, Tulin once again asking a myriad of questions that she is all too happy to answer with what she knows. In the meantime, Teba has taken over dish duty with Link as Saki retreats onto a cushion in the living space, draping some sewing supplies over her lap. It’s a mint-green shawl. Knowing the Rito culture, Zelda can only imagine how long all the delicate stitching will take, but no doubt, the finished product will be a stunning piece of finest craftsmanship.
Half an hour later, with Tulin having the time of his life flipping through the photos Link had taken, Zelda sees her knight pad over towards Saki before glancing at her and Tulin over his shoulder. With a playful glare, he crosses his arms before sitting down next to the mother and tilting over to let his head flop into her lap. Saki, to her credit, doesn’t seem surprised and only lifts her work out of the way before draping to over Link’s shoulder to continue.
Is he…pouting?
Zelda can’t help the disbelieving chuckle that leaves her at the display of dramatics. Tulin wiggles in her lap as he stage-whispers; “I told you he’s one big baby.”
She can see Link’s ear flick upright with attention, and he sharply turns his head to allow one eye to hone in on the little fledgling.
“Uh-oh.”
In an instant, Tulin scrambles off of Zelda’s lap, shrieking at the top of his little lungs as the hero makes a mad dash towards him. Soft, downy feathers dance around in the air from all the hasty flapping of small wings, and Zelda sneezes when they tickle her nose. She hears Saki sigh in defeat, her after-lunch peace shattered by rowdy boys, now rolling over her floors.
“Boys,” she calls over the raucous laughter, “you better take this outside!”
Tulin escapes Link’s hold with a breathless giggle, before running off out of the roost. “Last one at Master Revali’s Landing is a rotten egg!”
The knight huffs out a laugh, pushing himself up to chase after the little bird with a playful roar, that has several other fledglings joining in with delighted shrieks. Meanwhile, Teba leans out of the entrance, dishtowel still in hand. “Link! Wear your boots– oh, this boy–” His grumbling is interrupted by a greeting of another Rito, with a coal plumage, and he too leaves the roost for a chat.
Zelda watches them all go, before she stands up and approaches one of the windows. The couple’s roost is one of the few in the upper tier of the village, and while the full view of it is a bit limited from the vantage point, it still provides her with an ample glimpse of everything. She sees some of the wind wheels spinning idly in the cool breeze, other roosts hosting families and shops and the numerous landings occupied by people simply resting and having conversations as their legs dangle over the edge. There’s a busy, yet social atmosphere, carried along by the rattle of the wind wheels and the occasional thrills of the Ritos. Somewhere, she can hear the soft melodies of an accordion.
“Peaceful, isn’t it?” Zelda almost startles at Saki’s voice, and she turns to see her smiling at her. “That is all thanks to you and Link.”
And she doesn’t know what to say to that. But the Rito seems to understand. “Say, Lady Zelda, after such a long journey…how does a bath sound?”
It sounds heavenly and in no time, she is whisked away to a warm spring in a cave, that is already well visited by other women – Rito and tourists alike. Thankfully, Saki leads her to a small, secluded spot behind a few big rocks to allow her some privacy. She’s also gracious enough to pretend to look over the soaps and towels they brought, so Zelda can undress and enter the water before Saki turns around and offers to undo her hair.
Her big, feathered hands are gentle and kind, untangling Zelda’s matted hair with unhurried motions and soaping it up just as carefully before introducing a comb fit for a Hylian.
“Our Link has such wild hair, you know?” she explains with mirth in her voice, sitting at the edge of the warm pool as she brushes through long, golden strands. “Every time he visits, I just want to sit him down and preen him like I do with Tulin. I swear, he comes back with more sticks than last time.”
Zelda titters. “That sounds like him,” she says, fondly staring over the steaming water, feeling all pliant with a full stomach and the gentle scrape of the comb on her scalp. “He’d walk around in a muddy uniform for hours until someone reminded him to wash up.”
Saki tuts. “Oh, that boy…! Let me tell you about the time I asked him to fetch me some salmon, and he comes back tracking monster guts all over my floors. Good thing I caught him before he reached my carpet. And my husband! Completely unbothered. Even had the gall to just ask if he won. Oh, I am telling you…”
Her voice echoes pleasantly off the walls, soft and affectionate despite the near complaints. Zelda lets it all wash over her, almost nodding off when the Rito tells her it's time to get the soap out of her hair. After rinsing her hair and washing her body, she dries off enough to slip back into Link’s ill-fitting clothes. Saki still rubs her hair dry in a towel as she mentions that they probably should get her a better clothing set.
Zelda still doesn’t go to speak with the Elder, because Saki, as it turned out, is apparently as stubborn as her husband, plopping her down at the tailor’s for measurements. So she just goes with the flow, letting the seamstress take note of her sizes as Saki browses some of the pre-made Snowquill coats.
“I think the coat should be enough for now,” she mumbles as she makes way for the seamstress to search for a fitting item, “as long as you don’t go too deep into the Hebrean mountain ranges yet. Those peaks are freezing without proper armor.”
The coat fits like a glove and Zelda marvels at the warmth and softness of it. Despite her still damp hair, she spins her body to and fro in front of the provided mirror, appreciating the mix of the warm, muted colors and sturdy leather.
“If the leather feels too loose, you can always tighten it here at the buckle,” the seamstress instructs, showing her the right spots. “And if the coat itself feels a little off, I can easily fit them for you, your highness.”
Zelda gives her and Saki a big smile. “Thank you.”
Ultimately, she ends up protesting softly, albeit severely when the seamstress insists on gifting her the coat – free of charge, as a welcome present. Saki has to usher her out of the shop with gentle pressure, tittering at the near pout Zelda’s wearing, donning her new coat while carrying the neatly folded up doublet in her arms to give back to Link. Together, they ascend the village and Zelda takes the time to really take everything in, noting all the small differences – and big differences.
The village is so much smaller than she remembered, looking over the edges at the few stone spires towering out of the lake. They used to be connected to the main spire, with long bridges, housing larger platforms for plenty more roosts. It’s all gone now, no doubt knocked down by the Calamity and all it’s ill that it brought with it – monster forces, blighted guardians and a possessed Vah Medoh. The Rito had always been a smaller population compared to the other races, despite having evolved to match the conditions of their habitat.
She wonders just how long it will take to rebuild everything.
Yet, even with that thought, her self-imposed duties of visiting the Elder are all but forgotten when they encounter Link, Tulin and several children, who immediately whisk her away. Saki is no help, only looking on in clear amusement, having taken the doublet from her as she waves her off to go have fun. She isn’t entirely sure what ‘having fun’ entails, but soon enough, she finds herself near the shrine of the village, sitting in the grass surrounded by the colorful Rito children. Just like with Tulin, she shows off the compendium on the slate, happily answering any and every question that is sent her way and recounting particularly memorable anecdotes with each entry.
It’s nice, being surrounded by life again, actual living people, who can respond to her, who can touch her. She feels warm and comfortable, squished between so many children with downy feathers, as they crowd around her to get a better look at the slate. There are hands in her drying hair, and the Rito girls marvel at the color.
“It’s so yellow! Like sunflowers!” Genli, the little green bird, cheers.
Next to her, Cree with the blue plumage, shakes her head. “No, no – it’s golden.”
“Can I braid it for you, Lady Zelda?” the red Rito daughter, Notts asks.
Kotts shoves her sister none too gently with her yellow wing. “No! I want to braid it, I’m better than you anyway!”
“That’s not true,” Kheel says, her purple feathers ruffling, “I’m the best at braiding, I’ll do it!”
Zelda hardly gets a word in when the girls start bickering and squawking amongst themselves, which soon turn into wordless shriek and angry thrills. With wide eyes, she looks at Link, feeling a little out of her depth at how to deal with squabbling children – but he’s just laughing at her, shoulders bouncing and eyes narrowed in amusement. Tulin is no better, seated upon Link’s shaking shoulders like a king and giggling along with little Molli, sitting snug in the knight’s arms.
Oh, this is payback, Zelda thinks before she finally manages to calm the girls down by allowing them to make a small braid each. And by the time the sun sets – has it been this many hours already? – her long hair is filled with several braids of varying quality. It’s messy and mismatched, some feel a little too tight and one a little too loose, but Zelda loves them all the same.
Link is the one to start ushering them back to the roosts, carrying a dozing Molli as they say their goodbyes to the sisters before ascending the stairs to Teba’s roost. On the way, they drop off Molli at Harth’s, who ruffles both Link’s and Tulin’s head, while giving Zelda a grateful smile and a nod.
Just one roost over, Saki greets them with a light dinner of creamy vegetable soup, that has Zelda warm and drowsy by the end. It’s a little quieter at dinner table as Saki and Teba softly talk about their day and plans for tomorrow.
“Elder Kaneli is apparently planning an important meeting soon with most of the warriors,” Teba informs his wife, who hums.
“Any idea what it could be about?” she asks, watching how he shrugs, just as clueless when Zelda drops her spoon with a loud clatter. She winces when all eyes hone in on her, surprised.
“M-My apologies,” she stutters, “I just remembered! I was supposed to talk to the Elder, oh, how could I have forgotten–”
“Don’t worry, Princess!” Tulin reassures her with a big grin. “He’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after and the days after that. He mostly takes naps in his chair anyway.”
“Tulin.”
“But he’s very nice!”
His father sighs at the fledgling’s brazen attitude, but turns to Zelda also. “He’s right, Lady Zelda, you’ll still have time. Lots of it.”
She still feels apprehensive, lifting her spoon again. “If you say so…I just. It’s just so neglectful of me to forget such an important task.”
“Trust me, the Elder won’t mind,” Teba says, voice gentle. “Besides, if Hyrule must recuperate, so do you, not?” There’s a twinkle in his sharp eyes, that has her nod in understanding.
The Rito couple smile at her, before they’re distracted by Tulin’s indignant squawk of “Link’s stealing all my carrots!”
The night air is fresh and chilly, wafting through the half-open windows. It feels heavenly coupled with the soft warmth Zelda is bundled up in, a thick down blanket up to her nose, that had been provided by the Rito.
Her and Link had been invited to sleep over, or more like Tulin demanded Link to stay over, having missed him for weeks. She didn’t mind, but had to politely fight Saki tooth and nail, when the mother had offered her and her husband’s hammock to her for the night. Zelda really didn’t mind sleeping on the floor with the futons Link had brought out, and it took Teba to finally convince Saki to let it go. In the end, she just let the Rito bury her in blankets and pillows until Link complained about running hot later.
There is a small oil lamp burning low, hung up at a nearby wooden beam. It casts a warm glow over the sleeping roost and Zelda listening to the slumbering quiet of the village. She hears the nightly calls of Hyrule’s fauna, the occasional splashes of fish in the lake below, and the gentle scrape of talons against wood of the night patrol.
Gently, she turns her head to the left.
Link is fast asleep. A near miracle really – she’s never seen him this lax when they were travelling. His usually alert ears have drooped, and his breaths are deep and slow. He looks so much younger in his sleep, battle-hardened lines wiped from his face, giving way to his actual youth. His head is turned towards her, lips parted slightly as his breath brushes over the top of Tulin’s feathers. The young Rito had quietly snuck over to their futons about an hour ago, unaware of a still very much awake Zelda observing him as he expertly slipped under the covers and Link’s arm. The boy’s all curled up now, looking small and protected, tucked close to the knight’s chest.
Zelda smiles.
She is so glad, so thankful, that her best friend has found people, has found a home, where he feels truly safe. And she understands – this family has been nothing but kind and gentle. She hopes that Link has seen it too, the obvious affection and adoration that Saki and Teba regard him with, the exact same gazes they hold for Tulin. There is no doubt in her mind that the couple see him as theirs too, in all but blood, yet in every way that matters. She is so glad, that people love him as much as she does.
At the shifting sound coming from the nearby hammock, Zelda stiffens slightly, before closing her eyes and willing her breath to slow. She listens to talons clicking softly over the wooden floors, approaching the futon. There’s a pause and the subtle flutter of feathers. Too curious for her own good, she very carefully cracks one eye open, just a sliver, enough to have a peek.
Snow-hued feathers brush over Link’s head, lifting the blanket slightly – probably to take a look at Tulin. The fabric settles down again, pulled a little higher over the Hylian’s shoulder. The wings take great care in tucking the two boys in, it warms Zelda’s heart. But when the wings disappear and the click of talons migrates over to her side, she quickly shuts her eye.
There’s another pause, longer than the one before. Then, the feeling of feathers, gentle and caring, over the crown of her head. They tuck in some of her hair behind her ear, before they recede, together with the steps. A creak of the hammock, followed by hushed murmurs.
“They’re safe and sound.”
Teba’s voice is nothing more but a gentle rumble, and yet they ring in Zelda’s ears. Her heart feels like it would burst any moment, so full of gratitude and a desperation, craving more of those touches. Those gentle, caring, tender touches of a variety that only a parent can provide. She feels the hot press of tears welling up in her eyes – it’s been so, so, so long since she has experienced such gentleness again.
Carefully, she reaches out, her fingers finding Link’s hand; his palm is rough from handling all kinds of weapons, but it is so warm. Zelda entangles their fingers and finally settles. She smiles.
Even in his sleep, Link’s hand squeezes hers, gentle and reassuring.