Chapter Text
Link has always enjoyed the occasional trip to Rito Village. The cool winds blown down from the highest points of Hebra serve as a nice contrast to the warm climate of the family home in Goponga and even the well-insulated walls of the castle. The open-air design of the gazebo-like huts placed around the central pillar makes the space feel both homely and freeing, a taste of the wild he's so rarely able to experience between his duties in the royal guard and his duties as hero.
It certainly helps that the local inn is small and quiet, although Link suspects that the prince appreciates this shift even more than he does. Especially given that he's probably running around Vah Medoh and making sure no new issues have popped up since the Royal Ancient Tech Lab had to send a group of half a dozen Sheikah to repair a pair of damaged propellers on its right wing.
Revali refused to explain what had caused that, though Link is pretty sure he heard whispers among some of the younger Rito that he had attempted—and failed—to land the mechanical bird in the Flight Range. When he tried asking, the archer had flipped him off and departed with the prince for the Beast.
The visit is part of a longer trip to northern Hyrule, particularly to visit Lord Ozul of Tabantha Village, just on the southern edge of the Tabantha Snowfield. After this brief stop, they are to set off along the path to the west for the prince to meet the man's daughter, a young woman about a year younger than them.
His Highness has made very little effort throughout the journey to mask his displeasure at the notion of yet another possible lady to court. They'd barely reached the Ridgelands before he had begun ranting at the King's "pure lack of consideration for my bodily autonomy" and the "general lack of clear historical basis that a daughter is the necessary vessel for the power he thinks we need" and that His Majesty "should allow me to continue my research into the security of the Sheikah Operation in the event that it ends up ultimately being our only option and the Yiga attempt to commandeer the limited control mechanisms we have managed to reverse engineer."
Link had refrained from concurring too wholeheartedly in the interest of not committing light verbal treason, though his occasional nods seemed to placate some of the prince's ire.
And now, Link is alone to wander the village and take in the surrounding mountains, waiting for his charge to return. He... maybe appreciates the break? Despite his qualms with Revali, he does at least acknowledge the Rito Champion's skills, and doesn't doubt that the prince is safe at the moment. He can rest now, right?
He kind of misses the prince's company, though.
He can't help but follow the gradual spiral steps and platforms that define the town, witnessing the slow reveal of Lake Totori beyond the cover of the trees, quickly overshadowed by the looming, rigid peaks of Hebra. A pair of flags bordering the flight range, jutting high and clear so lost travelers can find their way home, make themselves visible beyond the hills. He can just barely make out one of the shrines, covered in moss and age yet insisting on being there. An ever-present reminder of a buried past resisting rediscovery.
He can't help but remember the prince desperately pressing the Sheikah Slate against a shrine in the Rayne Highlands, continuously being denied entry. Yelling at him because there wasn't anywhere else to aim his ire. After all, it's not like there are any ancient Sheikah waiting around somewhere to let him in.
Link rises higher and another relic of the past invades his sight, built around by bridges and landing pads atop one of the village's secondary spires. It's a fixed point in a village otherwise defined by its looseness, by leanly built huts and malleable wood that has never looked quite the same from one visit to the next.
He wants to climb it.
He surveys the space around it, well aware that whatever ancient material used to construct it is smooth and quite slippery, the centuries of decay failing to even dent the impossible formation. He picks the tree closest to it, his grip easy between the rough surface and the protective friction of his gloves, and easily scales its branches.
A leap from there, and he lands without issue.
There's a contrast to being up here, just a few steps out from the rest of the village, just a few feet higher than the platforms he's meant to walk upon. The breeze is stronger, the whistling and the sway of the leaves so, so audible as the chatter of the town is just that little bit quieter. The central spiral is still giant, the architecture still impressive, the spaces still homely and lovely, yet now just another part of the view rather than a wall making him look out in a single direction.
Link has never been tall, but he can see the peaks of Death Mountain just beyond the cliffs of tundra. He can see the flags atop the nearby freezing summits, guiding the lost to places of warmth, safety, and rest.
Some part of him yearns to be out there, to experience it all without so much limitation, to be separate from this position and all that it entails on so many levels down to his core.
His right hand involuntarily reaches for his ear, his fingers brushing against the ring in its lobe. His left twitches towards his scabbard.
Is that what his destiny might someday hold? The Hero who must defeat the Calamity, someday setting out on grand adventures to the corners of Hyrule, reconnecting it to spiritual and natural roots in place of a Princess connected to the goddess? Or would he be the man who walked away, let this hopeless kingdom fall because he wouldn't risk trying?
The sun begins to set, the searing likeness of the sun in twilight nearly blotting out the visage of the Great Cliffs beyond. As if the chasms at the end of the world aren't merely keeping them alone, but their only protection from some great devastation, from the sun burning away this land as it blots his vision of the distance in blinding light.
The sight is nearly transfixing: golden, bright, and overpowering. It's as though the very sky is striving to release unto them, the heavens coming to earth as Hylia came to man.
It moves and shifts, slowly passing down and beyond where even this vantage point can see. Gold fades to auburn fades to blue and black as the horizon beyond melds with the sky that threatened to melt it away. It brings up a strange sadness, seeing that brightness fall.
In the dark of night, it's as though the world has stopped, then. The movement of that light now sent beyond his comprehension. Yet he can't look away, can't move a muscle. He's pinned here, sitting still so long he can't remember when he stopped standing. It's nearly blissful.
"Have you adopted a new position as Shrine Guard, Sir Link?"
The voice pulls him out of his trance, drawing his attention away from the emptiness above. Down below him, the prince stands with a light smile, leaning against the fence surrounding the adjacent landing.
He gives an animated shrug in response, hoping the gesture still reads clear in the less illuminated edge of the village, against the starry backdrop of the sky.
"May I ask, how did you even get up there? I was under the impression that these shrines were of a material difficult for even the most skilled climbers to scale."
"Jumped off a tree."
The prince barely masks his surprise, quickly glancing at the surrounding conifers and seemingly assessing their dimensions.
"But these are much too far from the shrine for such a jump to be reasonable! They're too short to give you much air time before hitting it, and that's barely considering the top being a smaller area than the base of the shrine."
He hops down and shrugs again. "I jumped."
The prince giggles at that, then moves back towards the shrine, placing a palm against the strange beige swirls adorning its front. "I've often wondered what precisely this material may have been. The bulk of the shrines are built of this dark metal, the same as what composes the majority of a Guardian's shell, yet it also features these spaces to emit light that instead go... unused."
Link steps closer to the prince, resting his hand in the center of one of the patterns. It feels smoother, more delicate than the rest of the structure.
"Goddesses, there are few things I wouldn't give to someday get to see the insides of one of these. Imagine the information it could give us, the truths about both the past and the future to come that could be gleaned from whatever challenges and records they were built to store."
Link has thought about that before—the idea of ancient trials built to train him has always been... intimidating, but tinged with a strange appeal. Perhaps the Sheikah of old held some lost secret to stopping calamity alone.
His Highness moves along the perimeter, stopping at the terminal in front and pulling the Slate out of the holster on his hip. He taps it against the carved eye of the surface and is greeted by nothing. "It's just so odd that these continue to refuse to activate," he says, annoyance clear in his voice. "The Divine Beasts were rather easy to power once presented with a Champion of their people, yet..."
He trails off, his words reminding Link of the Rayne and an irate prince who had forced the Slate into his hands and slammed it against the console.
"I don't understand!" he'd screamed, at the skies or the shrines or something buried in depths of Hyrule, Link didn't know. "I know I'm not what's needed but he is! My kingdom may be doomed and there's nothing I can do but help and you won't even give me that much!
Link had to pull him away and lead him back to their camp for the night. Had to let his companion remain silent, had to leave the subject alone, had to not step out of line. Hadn't had it in him to say anything about it.
The prince sighs, his voice deep and exhausted. Link swears he sees the man cringe slightly at the noise. He rubs a hand across his face, brushes his fingers across his eyes, and turns back towards the center of the village.
"I was wondering if you'd be interested in preparing dinner with me, as we've been doing?" he says, tiredness evident in his tone. "I've been finding your instruction lately to be... useful... and the village offers public amenities for preparing one's food freely..."
Link nods and the prince leads the way, the prompt to follow a distance behind going unspoken. Link waits five paces, then proceeds to match the prince's stride almost exactly as the familiarity settles in. It's a brief trip to the shared kitchen, just a few flights of stairs about the spire. They bump into a pair of older Rito sitting over one of the ledges, who signal a gesture of respect towards the prince, as well as a child sitting and watching the stars.
The kitchen is simplistic: a basic cooking pot sits at the center, with two tables built into the wood of the hut. Some short stools sit alongside them, although the tables are built for a Rito's height. There's a high shelf atop one of them, storing the bulk of the cooking supplies—very clearly to keep them out of reach of children. A third table, unattached to the space's construction, is littered with plates and a jug of water. It's, unfortunately, built to a child's size.
Guess they'll be sitting on the floor.
As he sets his eyes upon the pot, however, the prince seems to suddenly jump at a realization. "Oh! It has just occurred to me that I... have no clue what we might want to make." His expression turns sheepish, "I also hadn't prepared any ingredients that we could use..."
Link had, in fact, bought everything necessary for a fish pie not long after the prince had departed for Medoh. The inn had even offered a cool place to store them: a strange box that seemed to have a Frostblade, or at least something similar, embedded in it.
He lifts a finger to tell the prince to wait, then hurriedly rushes back to grab the contents of the box set just next to his bed. On his return to the kitchen, His Highness seems slightly confused until he notices the bundle of ingredients in his arms, which he sets down on some plates. He looks for a knife and gets to work cutting up the salmon.
"Um, Sir Link? Is there anything I can do while you're doing that?"
He looks at the prince and then gestures at the dough, butter, and salt. When he gets a confused look, asking for more information, he reaches into his bag and pulls out his journal.
The prince seems surprised by his actions, but then notices the contents of the book. He finds the page he wrote the fish pie recipe on—at least a little embarrassed by the prince witnessing the messy nature he writes them in for himself—and passes it over. He firmly pushes down any nervousness of the prince accidentally seeing certain other pages of his writings.
The taller man gives it a quick look over, eyes glimmering in the warm light as he parses Link's notes. The page is covered in drawings of the ingredients and the expected dish, a consequence of a hobby Link had picked up in his youth. He's pretty sure he sees the prince lightly tracing his art with a finger, taking care to avoid smudging any of the details. He even flips through a few adjacent pages, spiking up Link's anxiousness over certain words and drawings being seen, before settling back on the given page and looking at him.
"I must say, I wasn't aware you had artistic aspirations. Nor the skill you display here. Perhaps I should begin asking for your assistance in prototype sketches going forward," he says, a degree of excitement bleeding through his tone. "Though, I'd be afraid of asking too much of you if I did. Regardless, I presume you wanted me to prepare the dough as you've so elegantly described here?"
He flushes at the words of praise and nods, while the prince unclasps and removes his cape and coat. Link pointedly avoids looking at his exposed neck.
"It really is remarkable just how cold it can get atop Vah Medoh. Yet it is also so exhilarating to see the marvel of it all, between the land and the skies and the technological titan beneath you. I truly wish Father would actually approve such opportunities, rather than us needing to discreetly take them when we can." He shakes his head and rolls up the delicate material of his sleeves. "Regardless, it's an issue for a later time. I'll get to work on this while you finish preparing the fish, yes?"
The two focus on their tasks in shockingly comfortable silence, a certain far cry from how strained these shared moments could have been mere months ago. They make quick work of the preparations, and Link tells the prince to sit aside and relax while he tends to the pot. It's not too difficult of a dish to make, either way.
A few minutes pass, with the only noise around them being the soft breeze and the sizzling of the cookpot. He kneels in front of it while the prince sits behind him, watching quietly.
It's just after he sets a lid over the pod that the prince pipes up. "Can I ask you a question, Sir Link? Not as your prince but, if I may be so bold, a friend?"
He nods, still focusing on the food. "Yes, Your Highness."
"...Have you ever felt... limited by your position? In the ways it lets you exist and the expectations others have for how you must be? To be some image of the Hero, even at the cost of your true self?"
Link sets aside his cooking utensils, keeping some attention on the still-cooking food, and turns to face the prince. He lifts his hands to respond but hesitates, recalling that, last he tried, the prince was unfamiliar with Zoro-Lanayran sign language and didn't take well to his efforts to communicate in it.
He lowers them and prepares himself to speak when the prince cuts him off. "If you'd prefer, you may sign. I've been making some effort to teach myself since the, uh, prior incident. I apologize for not having been accommodating at the time."
Link's eyes widen and he quickly signs. There is no need to, Your Highness. Thank you, Your Highness.
"My question, then?"
I have no qualms with my position as a member of your Guard and will do all that I can to protect Hyrule as wielder of the Mas—
"No, not in that sense! I meant more about yourself as an individual. As an example, I'm the Crown Prince of Hyrule, yes? And with that comes expectations from the court and from my people on the whole. I'm to be a father to the next generation of Hyrule—in this case with additional implications on that front due to the Calamity—and a masculine presence in that position somewhat at odds with Hyrule's generally matrilineal history, much like my own father.
"With all that, I'm expected to fulfill this masculine image: tall, broad, strong. The things my father is, although he has at least been somewhat progressive in shifting those norms in his time. But he's still very much that image, just with more hair." He scoffs derisively, "It's my role as the prince to follow in his footsteps as closely as I can and set aside whatever aspirations I have to be different," a pause. "That is, should I wish to be different," he hurriedly completes.
Link nods and signs, So you mean to ask whether I've felt pushed to change myself to fit my role?
"Yes."
People expect The Hero to be much like that: strong, tall, sturdy. They usually don't expect to see someone with my frame and face. They expect a soldier's haircut and a hardened expression. Hylians from the Central regions, especially.
His hand rises to his earrings again, unintentionally drawing the prince's gaze towards them. Neither man comments upon it, though.
I present myself as I do because I like it. It feels right. But it, and my lone status as the hero, draw attention. People wonder how someone so scrawny and girly could destroy an unstoppable disaster alone.
"Hmph! I'd say your prettiness is an appeal, if anything. I'm certainly envious, to an extent."
Link blushes. Most others don't see it that way, Your Highness.
"I'm sure they'd feel differently if only they could witness your skills—your value to your kingdom!" The prince protests, a sudden desperation flashing across his features. "You're the wielder of the Sword that Seals the Darkness, the youngest to ever join the Royal Guard, the only man to have slain a white lynel alone and lived to tell the tale!"
Few believe those are more than rumors. Half the guard thinks I cheat in fights. He holds his hands up, thinking of a way to appropriately tell the prince. Some of them try to jump me to prove I'm nothing special.
The prince gasps. "How dare they! You've demonstrated your abilities and worth countless times. You're hardly deserving of such harassment, and they're being plain stupid towards Hyrule's only hope. It's not like you're some—some—some useless prince!"
The prince closes his eyes as he yells, but he reopens them and Link can see the mounting horror spreading through them. He hadn't meant to say that, had he? The prince swiftly grabs his coat and begins to move.
"I—I should go. Thank you for your time, Sir Link, but I'll have dinner late—"
"No." Link says, cutting him off and grabbing his wrist before he can leave. He pulls the prince down towards him, makes the man sit down, propriety be damned. "Talk."
"What? No! Let me go!" the prince exclaims.
"You're thinking, always thinking. What about?"
Link looks the prince in the eyes, but he looks away and argues. "You have no right to restrain me or force my thoughts like this. It is most improper." Still, he makes no effort to pull away.
Link briefly remembers the food, quickly grabs the water and douses the fire beneath the pot, the embers sizzling as they fade. He sits back down and stares at the prince.
A moment passes. Two.
"Have you ever felt limited by your position, milord?"
The prince laughs, mirthlessly. "Is it not obvious?"
He knows better than to answer that.
"It's hardly a secret that I'm not what Hyrule wants or needs at this time, not like how you are crucial to its survival. I'm just a step in the way, the wrong thing and all I have to do is give up everything I am and get some nice noble lady pregnant so a vessel of the golden power of the Goddess can be born." He reaches for the jug of water, pouring himself a glass that he gulps down rapidly.
"And I can't even do that right! I'm the prince who's going to let his people die because he can't bear the thought of using his body that way, of being that figure of fatherhood and masculinity for his people. I'm the prince who runs away and buries himself in ancient relics and fruitless research. It's only a matter of time until I'll have no choice left in the matter."
Your research might save us, Link signs.
"Ha! Perhaps you are the only man in the kingdom who believes that, Sir Link. Most of my people believe we are doomed, I'm sure you've heard as much. The Calamity will rise, and I will have taken the place of the savior Hyrule needs but that I am not, and you and the other Champions will try, but the Calamity will be undefeatable without that power. At least, that's what our fate is if you believe the scriptures my father and half of Hyrule do."
The prince leans, tears in his eyes as his smile turns more bitter and twisted. "You know? It's likely some cruel, divine trick that my existence is even this way. That I feel the ways I do about that destiny. Before I'd even learned of my duties, I'd had dreams and longings to be one of those daughters of Hylia, graceful and free and valued in a way the circumstances of my birth fail to allow. To be all that would be an impossible fantasy come true, yet I've been cursed to yearn for it while the world taunts me."
Wait.
"What?"
The prince's eyes flash in realization at his admission, and Link can see the panic flit through him. He reaches out to grab his hand, his grip more intimate than before, and squeezes it softly.
He desperately hopes the gesture is comforting, welcoming.
Link's long been aware of what the prince has suggested. He's even wondered before if he possibly fit in that category himself, but it never felt like either option quite fit. It's a rare occurrence in greater Hyrule, rarely spoken of in Hylian territory, but incredibly common among the Gerudo for individuals to be born in the apparent bodies of men, yet choose to express themselves as women. The Gerudo even held ancient means of 'accommodating' for that.
The implications of the heir to the throne of Hyrule potentially being one such individual, however, are staggering. That heir is staring at him, waiting for him to speak. To judge.
My Lo—Liege. Are you, er, implying yourself to have a certain similarity with our Champion Urbosa?
"I... I do not know what you could be insinuating, sir knight," they say, eyes flitting wildly away from his gaze as they continue to search for a way out, their tone revealing their clear fib. They seem... small.
He steps up on a knee, taking the position to better look into the taller person's eyes. He clears his throat, picks out his words.
"The legends say that a Princess and Hero will rise to face the return of the Calamity."
They roll their eyes. "I'm more than well aware. As is the entire kingdom. Clearly it wasn't prophetic."
"What if it was?" Link challenges, "What if... the only princess who could save us all is one who saved herself? Who found herself when nobody else could see her."
Their eyes are shining as they look at him, but their expression forces itself into a scowl. "Half of Hyrule would think me a madman. I'd be seen as a desperate fool running from his responsibilities, claiming to be something he isn't. There's no reason to think I'd be able to even summon Her golden power."
Link smiles. You could be a source of hope for them. Why deny yourself a chance, Your Highness? This, or any other way, wouldn't be the first risk I've seen you take in your efforts to help. He lets his smile turn a little teasing. How was Vah Medoh, by the way?
"Hey! That was perfectly secure!" they protest, but a smile is coming back to their face. "It leaves some questions for what this even changes... for what I can even do... but I suppose just a bit of courage wouldn't be so sinful."
Link rises to his feet and gives them a formal bow, the type he would in introduction with noble women, and pulls himself up with a smile he hopes is inviting.
"Then it is my pleasure to finally meet you, my Lady."
Her eyes sparkle as she gazes up at him, and then she tackles him off his feet and into a hug.