Chapter Text
Link sat on the edge of the riverbed, moving her fingers through the gentle stream. She reached down, touching the smooth stones that sat at its bottom, their appearances rippling along with the surface of the water. The day was warm, but the river was always cold. How long had these stones been here, to have ended up so smooth?
How long would she be in this small town, in this small country, before all her roughness was also smoothed? If she obeyed the whims leading her life, and the life of her parents, and of their parents, who would she become? Would she be happy to be like these stones—perfect, to an onlooker’s eye? Each imperfection, finally gone?
She stood up from the rocky shore, dusting off her wrinkled skirt. She had chores to do today, and if she was late, her mother would be very upset. And when her mother was upset, she had a tendency to take it out on her younger sister, Aryll, which Link disliked immensely. The only reason she hadn’t run off was because of Aryll.
She picked up her boots in one hand and her wooden staff in the other, making her way through the small woods adjacent to their property and into the meadow their family owned. They were farmers—nearly everyone in Hyrule was a farmer. If you weren’t a farmer, or a craftsman, you were a soldier. If you weren’t a soldier, you were probably rich. Hardly anyone in Hyrule was rich, except for the royal family and the scholars that served them.
Link never expected to become rich—such dreams were impractical—but she did yearn to be a soldier. She practiced every day before dawn in the woods, swinging her staff against trees or into the ground. In her heart, though, Link knew this was impractical, too.
There was no such thing as a female soldier.
The springtime flowers lifted their brightly coloured faces to her as she ran across the field towards the farmhouse, where her father was preparing himself for a long day of work.
“Papa!” she yelled, dropping her shoes on the ground. “Is Mam awake yet?”
He held up a finger to his mouth. “If you keep yelling, she will be.”
Link slowed down, panting as she dropped her staff on the porch and pulled her boots back over her feet, which were now covered in dirt and early morning dew. “Did you feed Honey?”
Her father didn't have a chance to answer before their fourteen year old cat came crawling out from underneath the rotten floorboards of the porch, mewing assertively. Link bent down to stroke her hand over the darling creature's back, while her father looked at her sheepishly. Honey was yet to be fed.
Just then, the door opened, and Link’s mother appeared at the threshold. She held out a small piece of paper, folded over neatly into a triangle.
“Forget the well, sweetheart. I need something from town—would you mind?”
Link took the list and tucked it into the pouch attached to her belt. “I can draw the water when I get back.”
Her mom shook her head, handing over a small pouch of money. “Aryll will do it.”
Link crossed her arms over her chest. “Aryll doesn't know how. I'll do it when I get back.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “It'll be too late. Marno’s calf is due today.”
“Then the water’s more important,” Link argued. “I can do it before I go.”
“No, you can't. We also need more feed, and some disinfectant from the apothecary.”
Link’s dad got up from his seat, pushing his hands against his knees with a groan. He took a few steps towards the barn before looking back over his shoulder at Link. “Better get going, little thistle.”
She started towards the stable that housed their lone horse, a young and wild mare with a chestnut coat and stark white mane. The older mare had been claimed by the army, because she was strong—Link had been riding her for years, and trained her well. It was sad to see her go, but they had been compensated handsomely, and the entire family knew that monster attacks were becoming more frequent. None of them had been harmed, but the stories grew closer and closer each day. There was unrest across the land these days.
Epona began to nicker as Link approached, pulling a small apple out of her pouch. They were supposed to ride later today, anyway, so it didn’t bother Link much to take her to Castle Town. It bothered her a bit to pay a hand to hold onto her horse while she visited the shops, but there was no getting around that.
The ride was quick, and it was pleasant. Link always enjoyed the breeze against her face, whether it was the warm caress of summer, or the cutting edge post-harvest. The smells of town floated by as she approached—the bakery near the gate, burning wood, leather, and people. Always lots of people.
She dismounted to walk across the drawbridge, which was manned by the same rotation of teenage recruits each time she came, and brought her family card up to the guard’s booth.
“Whatcha looking for this time, Linny? Trouble?”
The redhead checking her identification smiled, and it would’ve been charming, if Link could find it inside herself to care. He wasn’t a day over sixteen, practically a baby.
“Told you not to call me that, Charlie,” she replied, taking the card back and putting it in her bag. “How much to hold Epona for an hour?”
“Same as it always is, darlin’.” He put out his hand.
She handed him a few rupees, and he whistled between his teeth to call the stablehand, who collected Epona. Link followed them through the gate before splitting off towards the market, where she bought a large bag of chicken feed, as well as some powdered supplements to add to the baby cow’s milk. At the apothecary, she bought several small vials of antibiotics, one for each day of the next week.
On the way back, she walked through the artisan and blacksmith quarter, a few interconnected streets that housed all sorts of goodies for those who were visiting from out of town. Those who brought money. Locals hardly shopped here.
Link came here each time she visited Castle Town, and always right before she was leaving. It was a simple joy, to see what was for sale—clothing, tools, tapestries, weapons, and other types of knick-knacks. Watches, jewellery, feathered hats, and velvet cushions. Stained wood, ornate shields, fine wine, and steel swords.
Link loved the swords, nearly worshipped them every time she came. She’d stare and stare at each blade and its sharpened edges, tracing her eyes around the engraved whorls of each hilt until the image was engraved in her brain, as well. Some were better than others, of course. She hoped to buy one, one day. Didn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ it was, just that it would be hers. She would take it back to the forest and hide it there for when she sparred, lest her mom see the weapon and force her to sell it back. Her mom had caught her practicing fighting once, when she was punching the posts of her bed frame, and reprimanded her harshly—after all, there were no female soldiers, and there was no war (despite the monsters). It was bad enough that she had a bow and went out in her spare time to shoot fowl for dinner. In fact, her mother had told her to focus on the next big task (really, the first big task) of her life.
Getting married.
Saving up money was difficult, for an unmarried farm girl of eighteen. She usually didn’t get pocket money from her parents, except on her birthday, and she didn’t have many hirable skills. She wasn’t pretty, not in the way that other girls were, so she couldn’t use that, either. Link had been told that she was rough around the edges. When she was younger, before puberty, she had often been mistaken for a little boy. So instead, she would walk around the merchant stalls and take advantage of the kindness of strangers, and their inflated wallets.
She’d never been caught before. Just a coin or two, here and there. These foreigners wouldn’t notice—not with their plump hands coated in gold rings, nor their studded boots, nor their servants. A coin or two meant nothing to them, but everything to her.
Link had been saving all of her money since the first time she’d seen the swords, when her father had brought her to town to buy a new pitchfork and shovel. She was twelve, and they were just as sparkly then. Just as enticing.
She wound around the stalls, inspecting the goods over people’s shoulders and giving smiling apologies when she ‘bumped’ into them, deft fingers slipping into their pockets with feather-light grace.
Every once and a while, she became emboldened and took something of more value. An earring, or necklace. It was a lot more difficult to get away with these sorts of things, so she was very careful. She couldn’t make trouble for her parents by getting thrown into jail.
Link had just finished chatting up a belt merchant when she noticed her—a tall, poised woman with a headscarf covering her head, out of which slim strands of corn-coloured hair slipped out. She wasn’t as elegantly dressed as many of the other shoppers here, but something about her was deeply intriguing to Link. She finished up her business at the shop and started through the crowd, following the woman.
Their path took her to her favourite place, the weaponry stalls, which she hadn’t yet seen today.
“Link! C’mere, girl.”
Bonzo was one of the Goron blacksmiths that came to town every few weeks to sell his handiwork. It’d been a month or so since the last time she’d seen him. Link had run a few errands for him, here and there, since he was getting rather old. She didn’t mind—he made a good chat, and always let her inspect the swords he had for sale.
Link looked through the crowd, picking out the woman she was tailing walking across the street and into the bookshop. If she was quick, she could still catch her inside. Link pivoted to her left and lifted her free arm to Bonzo, waving at him.
“Hi, Bonzo!”
She dropped her sack of feed between her feet, near the base of the large table he used as a front counter, and walked around the side to hug him. The best she could really do was hug one of his arms, since he was so much larger than she, but he always laughed in the same, booming way when she did it. So she kept doing it each time they saw one another.
“Good one!” he said, laughing. “I think you’ve gotten stronger, I almost felt it!”
She punched him gently, grinning back. “Don’t let it get to my head.”
He raised a finger, reaching under the table with his other hand to pull out a long, rectangular wooden box. “I’ve got something to show you, small one.”
She watched in reverence as he used a rusty pair of pliers to pull out the nails holding it shut, one by one, and revealed a short sword with an ornate handle.
Link gasped. “It’s lovely.”
“It was returned to me after its owner unfortunately passed in battle—already a few years old,” he said quietly, running a finger along the top of the blade. “Can’t really sell it no more—don’t want to, neither. I would need to fix it up real good. It’s yours if you want it.”
Link thought her ears were deceiving her. “Mine? No, Bonzo, I can’t.” She raised her hands in a placating manner. “You’ve got to make those repairs to your shop on the mountain—you should melt this down and make something new.”
He shook his head. “I really appreciate your thoughts, small one, but that won’t be necessary. I’m closing the shop. Too old to be hunched over that bench.”
Link looked closer at the sword. It was in really good condition. She could hardly believe that it had seen battle, except for the few scratches here and there. It was a good size for her, too, since most blades were far too long for her to wield.
“Can’t I give you something for it, Bonzo? It’d feel like robbery to just take it like this.” Link might’ve stolen from rich foreigners, but as a personal rule, she didn’t steal from average people. People like her, who were just trying to get buy. She didn’t steal from Hyrulians.
He stroked his chin. “How about this? If you buy one of those scabbards to hold it in, and a belt to attach it ‘round your shoulders, girl, would that work?”
Link walked over to the display, picking out a sheath for the sword that looked about the right size, as well as a matching strap. When she came back to Bonzo, she dropped them on the counter and pulled out a few pieces of gold jewellery from her bag. One old, one relatively new. Then, she took out a sizable chunk of the rupees in her wallet.
“How’s this?” She dropped the finery on the counter beside the goods, and Bonzo nodded appreciatively.
“That’ll do,” he said, picking his payment up off the surface and putting them in his apron pocket. “You’re very generous. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t act like I’m doing you any favours, Bonzo,” Link replied, smiling. “Your stuff is worth way more.”
“I’m not only talking about the payment, small one.” He nodded his head sagely. “You’ve done me a great deal of good over these past few years.”
He took the sword out of the box and slipped it into the scabbard, which he attached to the leather strap she had picked out. He handed it to her from across the counter. She accepted it with careful hands and slung it across her body, appreciating the weight of it. Then, she picked up her sack of feed.
“Will… will I see you again, around here?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Hard to say. But I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
“Right.” She hefted the sack up into her arms, nodding at him. “Hope it’s soon. Say hello to Jemmon for me.”
He waved Link off as she walked down the street, unbelieving of her luck, for once. It still felt like she had stolen from Bonzo, but if he was happy to help her out, she figured she should just accept it. Many people helped each other, across Hyrule, but only as much as they could. An expensive gift was much more than anyone usually could—even if she had paid for half of it.
Link started back towards the gate before she remembered what she had been doing before—the woman! The woman with the scarf and the blonde hair, who walked like a priestess. She hurried across the road, dodging a cart pulled by a donkey, and pushed open the bookstore door with her shoulder. The smell of paper and ink hit her immediately.
Link had no idea if she was allowed to bring the feed inside, in case it spilled, let alone a sword , but she was already inside, which gave her a bit more confidence. There weren’t many patrons. The woman with the scarf was near the back of the shop, flipping through a book from the medicinal section. A well-worn strand of prayer beads hung from her wrist. Link watched as she took it off and placed it in between the pages of the book as a marker. She tucked the book underneath her armpit, picking up another from the shelf, and turned around to walk to the clerk.
She turned, and Link froze. The woman was Hylian, but in the way that diamonds were rocks. Link had never seen anyone like her before—her eyes alone shone like wet jade from the river, and her rosy cheeks were like fresh peonies. The air with which she moved was beyond regal, and her footsteps were silent.
She came up to the shopkeeper, and Link watched the way her plump lower lip caught between her teeth as he answered her question, whatever it had been. She stood there, staring, as the woman paid for the books and put them into her bag, after which point it was too late to pretend that she hadn’t been.
They locked eyes, and Link noticed that her lashes were also blonde.
“Pardon me,” she said quietly, bowing her head.
Link moved aside for her to slip through the shop door. The brass bell jingled above their heads as it opened, and again as it closed. She smelled like the flower fields as she passed. Link watched her disappear onto the street, quickly becoming a part of the crowd. She continued to stand there dumbly, for a moment, until the shopkeeper addressed her.
“May I help you find something?” His hands rested on the counter next to the register, tapping softly on the wood. Link could hear the clock ticking on the wall.
“I…” Link blinked, adjusting her grip on the bag of seed. She felt her face warm slightly. “I’m sorry, I came to the wrong place. Have a good day.”
She tried to push open the door with her back, smiling apologetically, before realizing that it had to be pulled. After she managed that, she hurried out of the shop. She didn’t see the woman again, even as she sped through the streets, taking note of the head of each stranger she passed by, which was a mild disappointment. However, the time she had paid for Epona’s care was likely already finished, and she had to get back home for the calving.
After all, there was no way that Aryll had been able to draw water from the well. She was too gangly, and Papa couldn’t help her either, with his bad back. Link liked to joke that she looked like a fairy, since she was so dainty. That, or one of those long-stalked flowers that could barely hold up the weight of its own head. Mam could’ve, but she was busy with the field today.
They needed her back home.
Link saw the smoke from a mile away.
At first she thought it was a routine burning—the farmers often burned some of their fields in the spring, to clear the land of undesirable weeds and prevent worse fires in the summertime heat. However, as she got closer, Link realized that the fire was far too tall, and too widespread. After she noticed this, she began to hasten Epona, pressing her feet just behind the girth.
Link wasn’t spiritual, not in the slightest, but she also began to pray as she got closer to their farm. She begged Hylia that it was just the field, and that nothing else had gone up in flames. She prayed for the animals, and for her family. She prayed most fervently that she was wrong, and that nothing of theirs was on fire at all. Nothing of what little they had.
Eventually, she was riding through thickening smoke, and short tongues of fire that were rising in the grasslands on the outskirts of their property. She was lucky that Epona was a brave horse. She was young, and hadn’t had enough time to gather fear.
Link was urging her forward, forward, forward, when Epona came to halt of her own volition, rearing violently.
Link fell off of the saddle and onto the ground beneath them, rolling to avoid being trampled by the lowering hooves.
“What’s wrong?!” she yelled. The sound of the fire was so much louder than she had anticipated. Her throat already felt dry from the thickening air.
A dark figure appeared in the smoke, its shadow unnaturally stout.
“Papa?!”
Link knew it wasn’t her father, but if it wasn’t, then what the hell was it? Who the hell was it? She stood up quickly, unsheathing the sword from her back and taking a wider stance.
“Did you set fire to our fields?!” There was no answer. “Show yourself!”
An ugly, red snout materialized in the flames. Link raised the sword higher, pointing it at the panting, snarling pig-like creature.
It had large, pointed ears and a pointed horn atop its head, along with sharp teeth, claws, and a primitive club of some kind. Its eyes were a bright, luminescent blue, like that of a nightshade, though the whites were reddened with thick veins. Worst of all was the stench . Link fought to keep herself downwind of the creature without gagging.
She hardly had time to register that this was one of the monsters that stories were being told about—that there were probably more, and that the farm was under attack, and that nearby farms were probably also under attack—before it lunged forward with its horrible teeth bared.
And it looked like it was smiling .
Link raised her sword to meet the brute force of its club swing, feeling her rear foot fight to keep purchase.
The monster’s slimy purple tongue appeared an inch from her nose as it wailed, leaning over her.
Link thought about her parents, and her sister. Were they fighting off more of these things? They couldn’t—there was no way, on the king’s name, that they could. There was no way. She couldn’t expect that anyone had come to save them, either. The nearest plot of land belonged to another family, with a few young boys, but they might also be fighting for themselves.
She would have to fight to get to them. Fight for them.
“Agh!” Link yelled as she turned her foot outward to gain stability, using her strength to push the monster off of her.
It fell backwards, landing heavily and extinguishing a small patch of fire.
She quickly jumped onto its torso and arched her sword as she came down, slicing diagonally across its neck. Purple blood spurted wildly out of the wound as the creature gurgled, struggling against her until it went still.
Link stumbled as it disappeared into an acrid ash. The blood that had sprayed across her tunic and skirt, too, disintegrated.
Link didn’t waste time. She whistled, gathering Epona and riding again to the centre of the fire. The farmhouse.
“Mam! Aryll!”
She circled around the property, looking around wildly. Link felt panicked, but she knew that she had to keep it together, if she was going to save them.
Suddenly, she heard someone yell from the forest.
Epona galloped at full speed, her taut muscles moving underneath Link. When they reached the forest’s edge, Link pulled on the reins and hopped off, rushing through the brush. A few stray thorns caught on her skirt, tearing it, but she didn’t care. There was less smoke here, and she could see her sister’s mousy brown crown in a small clearing.
She could also see another beast, even broader than the last, and although it was the same colour, its features were extended. It still bore similarity to a boar, but it was much taller, and each limb was longer. It held no weapon.
“Aryll!”
Aryll looked over at Link as she crashed through the undergrowth, jumping over a fallen tree. She opened her mouth as she reached out her hand, as if trying to push Link away from here.
“Run!”
“No, Aryll—”
It was the last thing she ever said.
The monster’s giant fist came down onto her temple, and her neck bent at an unnatural angle. Like the heavy head of a long-stalked flower.
“No!” Link screamed, watching her sister crumple, her blue eyes still open and looking at the world.
She pushed forward with all her might and drove her sword straight into the belly of the beast, but it was too late. The ash dusted itself over both her, and the small form of her sister.
Link fell at her side, dropping her weapon in favour of holding her reason for being. Her little bluebell bloom, precious forest fairy, whose soul was now slipping through her fingers.
“Aryll, please ,” she begged.
But there was no point. She knew there was nothing she could do. Aryll was gone.
Link drew her fingers over her sister’s eyes, so that it appeared that she was only sleeping. The blood was still in her face, warmth across her cheeks, so it really could’ve been believed. Link chose to believe that in this moment, Aryll was only sleeping. She had no time to mourn. She picked up the sword once more.
Link stood, carrying her sister in her arms as she started through the forest, back towards Epona and the farmhouse.
She began to run again, cradling Aryll’s head to her chest, when she heard another commotion.
There were people here, not monsters, throwing water on the house.
“There they are!” someone yelled. It was too far away to see, but Link thought that it might be one of their neighbours’ sons—Anton.
Indeed, she was quickly approached by him. He held a spear in his hand, which was coated in ash.
“Link! Thank Hylia, we thought—”
He stopped speaking when he saw the small body she carried in her arms. Link felt tears begin to prickle at the corners of her eyes. Fighting the smoke, they stung sharply, though not nearly as sharp as the pain in her chest.
“We still need to put out the fire,” she choked, adjusting Aryll once more.
Anton pointed behind himself at some other men, working feverishly at the well. His face was white as a sheet now, and his voice trembled. “We’re drawing water as fast as we can.”
“Are there more monsters?”
“We killed ‘em all,” he said somberly. “About seven of them. Few had torches.”
At least there was that one thing. It wouldn’t bring back her sister, but they were all dead. They were all dead . Link felt rage bubble up inside her body, wishing that she had been the one to kill them. She should have killed them all herself. If she hadn’t wasted time in the market, or at the bookstore…
“Did you see my parents?”
His face said it all.
And so she fell to the ground, hugging Aryll to her body, and began to cry.