Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The really funny thing about the way fate works is that there’s no discernible pattern to it. One of my friends talked about that once, that when any random person hits a golf ball, it lands on a blade of grass, and that blade of grass thinks, “wow, there must be a million blades of grass here. What are the odds that ball landed on me?” But really, the ball had to land on one of the blades of grass, and whichever one it chose would be thinking the same thing. What are the odds? But that golf ball was fated, in the few seconds it was airborne, to land on that particular blade of grass. For better or for worse, nobody knows.

Nobody even knows if fate truly exists. Most people don’t want it to, I think. We’re afraid to think that we aren’t in control of our own lives. But things happen to us more frequently than we actually change the future; you can’t end world hunger when a hurricane topples your house and washes you dead up on shore, even if you really, really wanted to. I think maybe that’s fate. Fate is being a blade of grass that through some fluke had the golf ball land on it--and realizing that, when you think about it, there was always a chance it would.

A lot of older people in my city believe in fate, because it’s what they were raised on. Legends of heroes and epic battles and quests of self-discovery, and though I still don’t really know where I stand on the issue, my friend Sheik (from the golf ball analogy) believes very strongly in fate, even in situations that make no sense at all. The toaster oven broke because if it hadn’t, it might have tripped the circuit breaker in the house and the computer would have shut down in the middle of your important essay. The gas pump was out of commission because maybe if you’d used it, there would have been a gasoline fire and you’d have died.

The basic point I’m trying to make is that I don’t really know if the story I’m about to tell you is a story about fate. In fact, I’m writing this down because if I don’t, I’ll stop believing it’s real. I’ll wake up one morning and think “Oh yeah, that thing that happened? To me? In my town? That was a dream!” And I would go about my life relieved and clueless and emptier for it. I don’t know if I care whether anyone believes me, because I wouldn’t believe me. Unless you’re Sheik, what I’m about to write down is a hell of a lot of coincidence and too clean-cut a narrative to be true.

So here’s the deal: I won’t make you promise to believe me.

***

The way this story starts is really dumb, and I don’t know how to make it less dumb. I could pick any arbitrary point on the timeline of my senior year in high school to start at and just go, but I’m going to use this one.

The way this story starts is really dumb because it starts in history class. AP Hyrulian History, fourth period, Mr. Gaebora: a class that I had been looking forward to, and a class that had failed spectacularly to meet my expectations. It was the second quarter of the school year, overcast and unseasonably warm, and I was falling asleep in the back of the muggy classroom as our teacher droned on and on in circles about how Hyrule developed a common monetary system after two hundred years of unnecessary confusion about how many of what kind of rock was equal to how much gold or what number of gems. His slideshow was flicking back and forth between two slides as he answered another derivative of the same question.

I sat up with a start and clapped a hand over my ear. Midna snorted next to me, holding her incriminating, spitty finger inches from my face. I scowled at her.

“What, the hundred-year development of the rupee isn’t interesting enough for you?” She asked under her breath, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Oh, no,” I murmured, staring blankly toward the front of the room. “I’m absolutely riveted. I was just concentrating really hard on processing the seven aspects of society and why communication is essential to a functioning economic system. This is the tough stuff.”

“That’s why I’m taking notes,” Midna slid her notebook over to me. She’d filled almost a whole page with her chicken-scratch handwriting, alternating colors for each bullet point as she wrote down every circuitous comment the teacher and class made. “I’ll need to file this one away for that AP test.”

I snorted. “I joined this class to learn about ancient wars and overthrowing the monarchy, but this, this is where it’s at.”

Midna patted me on the shoulder sympathetically. “Poor boy.”

We froze as Mr. Gaebora cleared his throat. “Mister Faron, Miss Nox, do you know something about eighth century trading systems that the rest of the class is unaware of?”

“No, sir,” Midna announced, loudly and without a hint of remorse.

“Then please settle down and pay attention. We’re nearly finished, and I’ll hand back your tests momentarily. Now, where was I…”

As the teacher resumed his lecture, our classmates turned their curious gazes back to the front of the classroom one by one. Midna rolled her eyes, but suffered the rest of the lecture in silence. When Gaebora picked up a pile of graded tests and began to pass them out, she turned to me with an exaggerated sigh of relief, then put her notebook away with a great deal of pomp and grandeur. Her backpack was full of candy wrappers.

“I’m very impressed with these tests, class,” Gaebora announced. “I’ve written the score breakdowns on the board for those interested. No Fs this time, and few Ds. We only had one perfect score.” He paused by a desk at the front of the class. “With the grading curve, it rounds to 109%. Excellent work, as usual, Miss Harkinian.” Gaebora set a test down on the desk proudly, then continued to shuffle around the class, handing out tests. “Our second highest score was a 102%, and our third highest a 96%.”

“Goddesses, look how pleased she is with herself,” Midna growled. “What a prude.”

“Hm?” I turned to her. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening. Who?”

“Zelda.” She indicated the girl at the front of the class, who was flipping through her unmarked test, making occasional comments to the girl sitting next to her. “‘Miss Harkinian.’ You know, they’re saying she’s going to be our valedictorian. If she’s the one representing our school at graduation, I will literally kill myself.”

“I don’t know. She’s good at writing. She’ll give a good speech.”

“You’re too good, Link, and you know it,” Midna retorted. “You’d probably defend your worst enemy to the grave, but I know she drives you crazy too. How can you drive past that castle of a house every day and not be at least the tiniest bit annoyed? How can you sit through classes with her sitting right by the teacher’s desk with her arm in the air like a radio tower? You’d be good at writing if you actually gave a shit, you’d write a good speech.”

“I hate public speaking. That sounds like the worst form of torture.”

“Mister Faron, Miss Nox,” Gaebora addressed us drily as he set our tests down. I glanced at mine and then watched Midna flip through hers halfheartedly.

“Bullshit,” she muttered, slamming it down on the desk. “If it wasn’t so late in the year I’d drop out of this class. What’d you get?” I offered her my test and she rolled her eyes. “I thought maybe if I sat next to you your skill in bullshitting would rub off on me, but clearly it hasn’t. Third highest score in the class and you’re still an idiot.”

“Maybe study next time,” I offered.

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Asshole.”

Mr. Gaebora started to make an announcement, but the bell rang and students leaped from their seats, a hivemind with a single goal. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed out at a leisurely pace, Midna right behind. Zelda was still packing her things as we walked out.

“Wanna leave campus for lunch?” Midna asked as we breezed through the door. “We could go to Telma’s or something.”

“Sure. Wanna text the others?”

“Oh, I forgot your thumbs were broken,” Midna grumbled sarcastically as she tapped out a quick message to the group chat, her characteristic black-lipped pout magnified by concentration. Midna was beautiful; people with strong Twili ancestry were exceedingly rare, but she had the typical red eyes and blue-tinged skin. Her bright orange hair (which I had only recently learned was natural) was held in a messy bun with pens and pencils (“it’s not like I’m using them for anything else, is it?”). She was beautiful, and I was absolutely fine with appreciating that beauty from the sidelines; Midna Nox was enough of a nightmare as a friend, and I’d seen what happened to her ex. The cretin had deserved it, for sure, but Midna been suspended for several days after the fact. She had told me she’d broken all his arms and all his legs (to my knowledge only four actual limbs, but from what I’d heard of the guy, I wouldn’t discount the possibility of several more).

“I told them to meet us,” Midna said sharply. “Let’s go. We’ve only got an hour.” She adjusted her backpack where it was held up by one strap on her left shoulder, then took off toward the senior lot with me in tow.

***

Telma’s was a bar a few blocks from the high school. We only knew it served food because Ashei had managed to sneak in with a fake ID freshman year. When Telma had found her out, she served her wings instead of beer, and from then on they were friends or something (the story is a little fuzzy). It only took a few minutes to get there from the school, but when Midna and I arrived, Sheik and Ashei were already waiting outside.

“How did you beat us here?” Midna asked incredulously, slamming her car door so it echoed around the parking lot.

“Prescience,” Sheik replied coolly. “I knew you would want us to be here.”

“I sped,” said Ashei.

“You look exhausted,” Midna informed her. The other girl exhaled loudly.

“I studied all night and still failed that math test, so lay off, yeah? I need a soda."

“Hey guys!” I turned to see Ilia, Shad, and Malon hurrying over from the parking lot, and waved. By the time they caught up, we were already on our way in, and I held the door for them before entering the bar myself. It was a dimly lit, alcohol scented, dark-wood building, nearly empty at this time of day. Ashei had already bypassed what little line there was and reached the front counter. The man at the behind her cried out in dismay.

“Telma!” Ashei shouted, loudly enough that about half the heads at the bar turned toward us curiously. The man at the counter balked, and Shad buried his head in his hands.

“She does this every time,” he muttered sullenly.

“Ashei, is that you, honey?” Telma’s head popped out from the kitchen, and she grinned when she saw us. “Oh, everyone’s here!” The heavy-set woman emerged fully, setting a beer glass down on the bar and opening her arms as if she expected a hug from all of us at once over the counter. We murmured our greetings and waved, and Telma grinned.

“You kids go ahead and sit down in your usual spot and I’ll get your food ready. The usual?” We nodded. The man at the back of the line complained loudly of favoritism, which was a fair accusation.

“Thanks, Telma,” Ilia smiled. Telma assured her that it was absolutely no problem, that she loved having us, and Ashei led the way to the booth where we normally sat. Telma brought out drinks for us in no time.

“So how’s everyone’s morning going?” Sheik asked conversationally once Telma returned to the kitchen, punctuating the question by sipping their iced tea.

“Absolute shit,” grumbled Ashei.

“Pretty well,” Malon smiled. “Ilia and I are working together on a species variety project in anatomy. We’re doing the Rito. I just learned what a cloaca is, and a kid in my class was very offended when I mentioned that it was weird.”

“Nice,” Sheik nodded in approval.

“It’s really cool that the Rito evolved so quickly from birds,” Ilia added. “Now they look almost just like humans.”

“Everything looks very similar to humans now,” Shad replied, shoving his glasses up his nose. “Every species has evolved to fit the environment we’ve created. Of course, every race remains fundamentally different.”

“Why aren’t you our valedictorian,” Midna mumbled. “You’re enough of a know-it-all.”

“What? Speak up, Midna, I couldn’t hear you properly.”

“Link and I had dumb AP History with ‘Princess’ Zelda,” Midna said, a little louder. “What a kiss-ass. You should have heard her last week, too. Fledge answered one of Gaebora’s questions and Zelda corrected him, which was completely out of line. And she’s a prude, she wears sweater vests and like, pants that look like riding breeches all the time like she’s from some kind of boarding school. And people are saying she’s going to be our valedictorian.”

“Midna threatened to kill herself if Zelda gives a speech at graduation,” I supplemented.

“It’s not very nice to talk about people that way, Midna,” Ilia reprimanded. “Or very nice to joke about that. It’s a serious topic.”

“Besides,” Ashei chimed in, “Shad’s more of a prude than Zelda. You barely even know her.” Shad gasped in mock offense, but didn’t defend himself and the insult was quickly forgotten.

“I don’t have to know her, Ashei. I have classes with her and I know that she’s obnoxious. She thinks she’s so smart, and is always just begging to answer the teachers’ questions.”

Our food had arrived, and the conversation lulled as we thanked Telma, who was still waiting our table herself. She winked at me as she left and I looked down at my club sandwich, concerned.

“I still don’t think it’s okay to talk about people behind their backs like that,” Ilia grumbled. Midna directed an exaggerated eye roll at Ashei while Ilia turned to me to change the subject. “How is your grandma doing, Link?”

“She’s good,” I replied, then took a bite of my sandwich.

“And? What about that little girl you’re fostering?” She prompted.

“Oh, yeah,” Malon jumped in. “How’s that going?”

I swallowed. “We just finalized the paperwork. The adoption agency is flying her in from Outset at the end of the week. I have to clean out the attic and move my stuff up there, since Gran’s giving her my old room. I don’t think any human has set foot up there in fifty years. I’m not looking forward to it.” So I was a little bitter. I was happy to be able to take care of a little girl who had lost her family, but I was slightly pissed that I was being moved into the attic, and frustrated at the prospect of Gran trying to support another child on her savings. Aryll wasn’t the problem, it was the situation.

“I can help you,” Ilia offered quickly. “I can bring over some of my old stuff, too, to make it feel more like home.”

“That would actually be awesome,” I replied gratefully. “We bought bedding and have some essential furniture, but we don’t have anything else, like toys. If you have old clothes that would fit a nine year old it’d be great, too.”

“I can come, too,” Sheik added. “If you need help carrying heavy things, two helpers would be better than one.” Ilia looked a little put out, but couldn’t disagree.

“I have studying to do,” Shad said, quickly excusing himself from manual labor. Malon nodded as if to say “me, too.”

“Ashei and I’ve got practice,” Midna stated. Midna and Ashei both played on the lacrosse team. Even though girls’ lacrosse was supposedly a no-contact sport, I’d seen Midna wind up and whack a girl from the Termina team in the head. She’d gotten away with it, too. Ashei and Nabooru had cheered. I didn’t understand lacrosse.

“That’s fine. Sheik and Ilia will be great help.” I smiled, relieved that I wouldn’t be tackling the attic alone.

“When do you need us over?” Sheik asked, stirring their tea.

“You can come around whenever works for you. What about five? I have a few chores to do beforehand.”

“Five is excellent,” Sheik replied, and Ilia gave me a thumbs-up. With that, the problem was put to rest, and we turned back to the riveting cloaca conversation, for which Malon had pulled up a diagram on her phone.

***

I ended up staying in the building for a good twenty minutes after the bell rang to signal the end of the day. My math teacher pulled me aside to inform me that if I wanted to pass her class I was going to have to start turning my homework in. Then I got dragged off my path again by a couple of freshman who wanted to show me something really cool (it was a salamander who was just kind of hanging out in the gutter. I caught it for them because it was missing a leg, and Colin promised to take good care of it and not give it to Talo). By the time I made it to the senior lot, most of the cars had cleared out and a few drops of rain had begun to fall from the overcast sky. I turned and waved to Saria as the cheer team headed into the gym, and nearly ran straight into Zelda Harkinian.

“Oh--sorry,” I muttered, whipping my head back around and backing up to a respectful distance. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Clearly.” I couldn’t read Zelda’s expression. She wasn’t offended. Just...annoyed, maybe? I looked away purposefully and realized that there were very few people or cars left in the lot.

“Don’t you have a car?” I asked, somewhat bluntly.

“No,” Zelda replied. She was still staring dead at me with that weird unreadable expression. I looked away again, uncomfortable.

“Is, uh...is somebody coming to pick you up?” I ground out. This conversation was literally physically painful. I’d never really talked to Zelda before, but I felt bad leaving her in the rain, which had already started to pick up. When I turned back to Zelda, she was smiling slightly.

“Eventually. Something came up. They’ll be here soon.”

“If you want, I could give you a ride.”

Zelda eyed me suspiciously for a moment, and I looked at the ground. She laughed gently and I glanced back up in surprise. “You’re pretty shy, aren’t you?” She asked, not unkindly. “I didn’t expect that out of someone so popular.”

“I’m not. Really. Not that popular.”

“Well, everyone likes you.” Zelda replied. She spoke with a kind of cool intelligence, as if she was analyzing the situation rather than living it. “My friends all like you. A couple of them bring you up frequently.”

“Do you want a ride or not?” I was getting wet, and it was starting to thunder out near the mountains. If Zelda didn’t make up her mind whether or not to trust me in the next few seconds, I was going to leave without her.

“If it’s no trouble, I’d love one.” Thank the Goddesses.

“It’s not an issue.” I was shielding my eyes from the rain at this point. “You live on the way to my house. Let’s get out of the rain.”

“How do you know where I live?” She asked as we jogged across the parking lot, avoiding potholes. They’d said they would fix the parking lot. They’d promised. But instead they gave the freshmen laptops and left the rest of us to fend for ourselves.

“Everyone knows where you live,” I laughed breathlessly, unlocking my car and sliding in. Zelda had to jump into the passenger’s seat, which was several feet off the ground. The rain made a tinny sound on the roof, and Zelda struggled a bit to buckle her seatbelt. She eyed the dashboard of my truck dubiously as I turned the key in the ignition, then jumped as music blasted out of my one working speaker. I scrambled to turn it down.

“Sorry.”

“This is a pretty old car, isn’t it?” Zelda asked. She didn’t seem as disgusted by it as I had first assumed. She was just curious.

“Yeah.” I struggled with the stick and the clutch and finally got the car to reverse. Thunder rumbled in the distance again. “Kind of a piece of shit.”

“The dashboard’s pretty narrow,” She noticed. “No airbags?”

“No. They didn’t make cars with airbags as a common accessory thirty years ago. Plus, this car is big enough that in a collision with anything short of a semi, we’d win.” I hit the brakes a little hard as someone drove out from behind a pickup unexpectedly. “Unfortunately, that means you sacrifice response time.”

“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say,” Zelda laughed. Even her laugh was controlled, dignified. “You don’t talk very much, do you?”

“I guess not.” Her statement drew my attention to how little I was actually saying. “I guess I don’t think people should talk if they have nothing to say.” We turned out onto the main road; from here it was a straight shot, a ten minute drive back to Zelda’s neighborhood (if you could call it that), then another minute back to my house.

“That’s fair.” Zelda was looking out the window now. “You seem like a pretty interesting person anyway, though. A good one at least.”

“Why do you say that?”

“We’ve barely ever talked. I think maybe we were assigned to work on a group project together once in the second grade. You don’t know me, and you went out of your way to give me a ride home, which I’m fairly certain was offered without any kind of ultimatum or expectation attached. Plus, my friend Mipha says you’re the sweetest guy in the school, and Mipha is the best judge of character I know.”

I sat in stunned silence as Zelda rattled off her assessment of my personality. What I said next was rather stupid.

“You know Mipha?”

Zelda laughed again, high and bright and surprising for someone so reserved. “She’s my best friend.”

“She had a giant crush on me in middle school.”

“Still does,” Zelda replied, then paused. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

“My lips are sealed, as usual.” I laughed. We were leaving the residential area now, exiting into the more forested hills this side of the school. “Why did you get in the car with me?” I asked. “I’m just some guy you don’t know.”

Zelda shrugged in my peripheral vision. “Well, I already knew that Mipha approved of you, but beyond that, you just seem like a very trustworthy person. Your name fits.”

“It’s a common name,” I protested. "It's after my grandfather, or something."

“Zelda is popular as well,” She replied. “Names of historical figures tend to be. But my father named me Zelda because it would set me on a path to greatness.” She drummed her fingers against the dashboard. She didn’t really sound like she agreed.

“You believe those old legends?” I asked, glancing at her curiously. “Isn’t there like, no proof that those actually happened? You called them history.”

“Why not?” She asked, and that was that. I turned onto a side road, a perfectly paved one that with massive houses and meticulously pruned shrubs on either either side. I’d been on the road before, because it curved around and down into the valley, where it let off to Malon’s property. The Harkinians’ mansion was the first house on the block, proudly overlooking the main road and the forested valley below.

“You can stop here,” Zelda offered, in such a way that it really sounded more like a command. “I’ll walk the rest of the way. Thank you for the ride, Link.” She smiled at me, then grabbed her backpack, hopped down from the passenger’s seat, and waved before turning to trot up the path to the house on the hill. I watched to make sure someone let her inside before checking my blind spot and pulling out onto the road again.

Chapter Text

My house is two miles down the road from the Harkinian Estate, off the hill and into a little valley. Homesteaders must have built the place ages ago; it has an old barn out behind it, where Gran kept a few goats and some hens. The acres of land originally attached to the property had been sold off long before I was born; my family hadn’t ever had the money to keep it up. Malon’s family bought up most of it and built their dairy farm about a mile down the valley.

The house itself is in decent shape, considering how old it must be. I rebuilt the roof when I was fifteen, so it doesn’t leak anymore, and the rest of the infrastructure has been fairly well-maintained. The driveway is probably a quarter mile long, and Gran’s cuccos were accustomed to running all over it.

A volley of barks greeted me as I pulled up to the gate. Epona stayed far enough back for me to open it, pull through, and close it again to keep the cuccos in, but soon as the slam of my car door resonated across the valley, she bounded to my side and bowled me over, licking my face enthusiastically.

“All right, girl, all right,” I laughed, shielding my face with my forearms. “Off, off. Epona!” The collie sat up and backed off at my sharp tone. “Good girl.” I rubbed her between the ears and she panted, then stood and ran in a circle. “Aw, you really missed me that much?” She barked. Thunder rumbled loudly as I picked myself up off the ground. The rain hadn’t reached the valley yet, but it was undoubtedly on its way.

“We’d better put the animals in, huh, lady?” Epona yipped and scampered off ahead of me, pausing halfway to the barn to make sure I was following. The hens flocked a safe distance behind me, drawn by the promise of food, and the goats raised their heads as I approached. Epona trotted off toward them and I called her back. “Let’s get the girls in first,” I told her, shoving open the main door. The hens flocked obediently into their half of the barn, separated from the goats’ by chicken wire, Epona bringing up the rear. After checking the cuccos’ food and scattering some grain in their dented pie tins, I secured the gate within the barn and heaved the heavy main door shut again.

“Okay, Epona,” the dog looked at me expectantly. “Goats!” She yelped happily and took off in a wide circle around the six goats we kept and they scurried into the barn with a chorus of worried bleats. I checked their hay and water, distributed pellets again, shut off the lights, and closed and latched the side door. Epona butted up against my leg as the first few drops of rain began to fall, and we booked it to the back door as it picked up rapidly. We never locked doors, as people never came far enough into the valley to bother us, so there was always a way in.

I swung the door open and Epona and I slipped inside; I dumped my backpack on the floor and leaned back against the wall, catching my breath. The back door led to the small kitchen, where Gran was setting a cooling rack of cookies on the counter. She looked up with a grin when I entered and opened her arms. I accepted the embrace as Epona shook herself off, then trotted over to sniff delicately at Gran’s apron.

“How was school today, sweetheart?”

“Fine.”

“Do you have any homework?” She asked, pulling away. Gran was short, at least a foot shorter than me, and the most prominent wrinkles in her ancient face were laugh lines. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her apron said 'kiss the cook.' “You’re moving your things to the attic today, right?”

“Yeah,” I absentmindedly picked up a cookie. “Sheik and Ilia are coming over to help me clean up the attic and set up my room for Aryll.”

“I’m glad,” Gran replied. “That attic hasn’t been touched in years. There are probably some real treasures in there.”

“Yeah. Rat poop, if I’m lucky.”

Gran shuddered at the thought. “Take Epona up with you.” She pulled out another rack of cookies. “Did you know she brought me a whole rabbit the other day? That poor dog gets so bored when you’re at school.”

“You and me both, lady,” I addressed Epona, who was sitting at my feet and eyeing my cookie. “You can’t have this. It’s bad.” She grumbled and wagged her tail, and I shooed her away, glancing out the window. “The rain’s really going out there. Glad I got all the animals in when I did.”

“Thanks for doing that, Linky. Now, shoo, get your homework done. You should be ready to clean when your little friends get here.” I opened my mouth to reply, but was saved by the doorbell.

“Come in!” I called. Epona sprang up and bolted over to investigate, barking ecstatically; I could hear Ilia cooing at her from the hall. When Sheik and Ilia emerged into the kitchen, it was with two black, lumpy garbage bags.

“We brought a couple things for Aryll,” Sheik huffed, grinning crookedly. Their hair was plastered to their face and their garbage bag was dripping rainwater onto the floor.

“Oh, aren’t you just darlings!” Gran shuffled over to them to kiss Ilia on both cheeks. “She’ll be so happy to have them. The agency said almost all her things were destroyed in the hurricane. So sad.”

“I’m sure she’ll be very happy here, Ms. Faron,” Ilia said politely. “Where should we put these bags?”

“Just in the living room,” I answered. The two bedrooms in the house opened into the living room. “We have to clean out the attic before we move my stuff up there. You’ll probably need to sweep and sanitize...one of you can work on bringing the stuff from my bedroom out if you want.”

“I’ll do it,” Sheik volunteered. “I can handle your gross personal affects, but I'm dumping them in the living room for you.” They were already on their way in, and left both their bag and Ilia’s outside my bedroom door. 

“So I’ll help you upstairs!” Ilia beamed. Epona was trotting around after her, sniffing the hems of her cutoffs.

“You two are such dears,” Gran repeated. “Thank you so much for helping. I would do it myself, but I’m afraid I’m just not as fit as I used to be.” She winked, and Ilia giggled.

“Gran, where do you want us to put...whatever we find up there?”

“Just on the porch would be perfect.” The ‘porch’ is a makeshift garage. It isn’t part of the house’s original structure, but protects things from the rain fine. “Now, off with you! And Sheik,” Gran called, “if you just grab Link’s sheets and everything that’s on his floor I’ll wash it.”

“Alright!” I heard my friend’s muffled voice. They must have been in the bedroom already.

The stairs to the attic were directly off the front entrance, and Ilia and I climbed them carefully (they were horrifyingly steep and narrow, and someone had painted them blue with the kind of slippery paint they use for walls. Again: I don’t know who built this house). I wrestled with the attic door for a minute before it opened, and thunder rumbled as Ilia and I stepped in cautiously. I almost tripped over a box of holiday decorations; it was dim in the attic, the single dusty window rendered useless by the rain that rattled against it. I flipped the light switch closest to the stairs, and the single bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling flickered on reluctantly, shedding yellow light.

Ilia gasped. “There’s so much stuff in here.”

I’d been in the attic to retrieve and store the aforementioned holiday decorations, but had never really paid much attention to anything else in there because there was actually nothing to see. The bare window shed muted light on a very old, faded desk sitting against the back wall. The back corner of the room was full of trunks (some of which looked like actual pirate treasure chests) and cardboard boxes, which crept out and filled most of the floor space. There was an old bookshelf laden with older books leaning against the adjacent wall, and a couple of lamps and other items littered the area. Everything had at least half an inch of dust on it. It smelled musty, but not necessarily bad, and a draft was creeping in through the window.

“Epona!” I whistled for my dog once Ilia and I were on firm ground; she shot up the stairs and started sniffing around the attic. After a moment, she returned to my side, wagging her tail. “No mice or anything, I guess,” I muttered.

“Do you know what’s stored up here?” Ilia asked, edging forward cautiously and sneezing as she breathed in the dust that Epona had disturbed.

“Not a clue,” I replied. “Ilia, do you want to grab boxes and hand them to me? I’ll take them down the stairs.” Ilia was stronger than she looked, but still slight, and I worried about her carrying heavy boxes down these particular stairs. I worried about me carrying heavy boxes down these particular stairs.

She nodded, reaching down to pick up the nearest box of Dinsday decorations. “Sure.”

With this method, we cleared the boxes from the attic in a relatively short period of time. There were a few spider scares, and I had to send Epona to her bed in my old room downstairs because she was trying to help so much she got in the way, but the boxes were small and lighter than expected. Upon investigating them, we found that they were mostly full of old picture albums and clothes at least a century old. I reminded myself to look through them when I had time as I tucked them into a back corner of the garage. Sheik joined us as we finished clearing the boxes, lugging a vacuum,a mop, and a bucket of cleaning supplies up the creaking stairs.

“There’s an outlet up here, right?” They asked.

Ilia nodded. “There’s one right by that bookshelf, and one on the opposite wall.”

“Why weren’t we using this as a room sooner?” I asked, taking the vacuum cleaner from Sheik. The attic seemed wasted as a storage room, when it had clearly been intended as an additional room in the home. The lightbulb in the ceiling flickered when I turned the vacuum on, but held true, and I wasn’t that surprised that the wiring was dodgy. Gran’s father had put in the electricity himself. The floors were bare, splintery, unfinished wood, and vacuuming only removed the top layer of dirt. Sheik started mopping as Ilia wiped down the walls (the same rough, bare wood) with a wet washcloth.

“So guess who I met outside the school today,” I offered, wiping what hadn’t been picked up by the vacuum from the desk and bookshelf with a damp rag.

“The love of your life,” Sheik guessed.

“The police,” Ilia countered.

“That Tingle guy who sells photocopies from the textbooks.”

“A really nice dog?”

I laughed. “Zelda Harkinian,” I corrected them.

“Is that really so strange?” Ilia asked. “She goes to our school.” Sheik slopped a great deal of water onto the floor by accident, then looked at me apologetically.

“I just thought it was weird that we were just talking about her at lunch, then I have a conversation with her and drive her home.”

“You drove her home?”

“She let you drive her home?” Sheik asked, mirroring Ilia’s astonishment. At my glare, they shrugged. “No offense, Link, but you’re a little rough around the edges. And she’s so...not.”

“Do you like her?” Ilia asked, hesitant.

“Nah.” Too blunt. “I mean, she seems really nice, I just meant I don’t...she’s not…” I swept the remainders of a spiderweb out from under the desk. “I’m not into her, if that’s what you were asking,” I finished lamely. “She was just out there all alone and it was starting to rain, so I drove her home and we made small talk. It wasn’t a big deal.” I stood up and surveyed our work. The attic was cleanish. “Guys, I think we did it!”

“Don’t change the subject,” Ilia protested.

“I’m not. I was done talking about it. Let’s go get my heavy furniture and lug it up a narrow flight of stairs.”

“Oh, yes, let’s,” Sheik sighed, finishing up their mopping.

In the end, the attic was furnished with a threadbare rug (to protect my feet from the horribly splintery floor), a fold-out bed (which we had found cheap at a thrift store and was a nightmare to move, requiring all of our combined strength and puzzle-solving capabilities), my old bedding, a small dresser with my clothes, a bedside table, two lamps (one for each outlet), Epona’s bed, and all of my useless junk. The window was still uncovered, but I wasn’t too concerned about people peeping on me.

“We did it!” Ilia cheered as we shoved the bed against the wall, heaving a sigh of relief. Epona barked in chorus with her, then jumped up and dug herself a nest.

“I still don’t have a chair for that desk,” I muttered, wandering over to it. The wood was intricately carved, and had once been painted, but the paint had chipped and left the desk rough and worn.  

“Did you ever check to see if there was anything inside it?” Sheik inquired, approaching from behind me. There were three drawers on the right-hand side.

“No, I forgot.” I reached out and wrestled open the first drawer, which croaked with the rub of wood against wood. It contained a pile of old letters, which I pulled out and plopped on its surface. The second drawer was empty, and the third drawer contained a pile of faded, moth-eaten dress clothes, which I also removed.

“What’s that?” Ilia asked, startling me. I hadn’t noticed her approach. She reached into the drawer and pulled out a small, ornate box. It looked much older than the desk, expertly carved from some kind of redwood with small inset gems, red, blue and green. “It’s lovely.”

“It looks really old,” I commented, mostly to myself. Ilia offered the box to me and I took it, turned it over in my hands. There was a clasp on the front with a keyhole, as if the box was meant to lock, but when I pulled the lid the rusted metal snapped easily. The hinges at the back of the lid ground together as they worked for the first time in years. “Really old,” I repeated, setting it down on the desk. The box, when the lid was lifted, opened into a concave only a fraction of the its depth. There was a hole in the center of what appeared to be a superficial bottom, where something was supposed to fit, and the same intricate carvings covered the false plate, but it was otherwise unremarkable.

“This looks like writing.” Sheik pointed to the middle of the wooden plate. “Another language.” Both of my friends were leaning in close as we all examined the box curiously.

“There’s something under this plate,” I muttered, barely registering the comment. “But there’s no hinges or anything. I wonder if we can pry it open.”

“If it doesn’t have any hinges, it’s probably meant to stay shut,” Ilia pointed out.

“Nobody will care if we break it, it’s been forgotten in this drawer for at least fifty years,” I replied, trying to stick my fingernail between the wooden plate and the inside edge of the box. “You got a nail file or something?”

“Here.” Sheik set a swiss army knife down on the desk.

“Thanks.” I flicked open a narrow blade and wiggled it between the two pieces of wood, pressing to separate them. I was forced to change my angle several times and finally saw around the edges of the plate before I got it to lift. I set the plate aside gently and examined the contents.

“I’ve seen that before!” Ilia cried. “It’s a music box!” The box contained a rusty roller and comb mechanism connected to several different gears. I followed the path of the gears back to the side of the box, where I found a keyhole on the outside face, then the opposite direction to a platform that had rested just beneath the surface plate. It too had a hole in it.

“There must have been one of those little dancers,” Sheik said. “You’d insert it here and it would spin around while the mechanism worked.”

“It’s a pity we don’t have the key,” Ilia remarked. “I wonder what this plays.”

I reached out experimentally and tried to turn the roller. It stuck initially, but after wiggling it back and forth the mechanism overcame the rust and I was able to turn it a fraction at a time, grinding out notes slowly. It didn’t sound great.

“The rust must be altering the sound,” Sheik observed. “It’s just a few simple notes, but they sound warped.”

“Really weird,” I muttered. “I wonder whose this was. And where the other pieces are. The dancer and the key.”

“I wonder what this says.” Sheik was holding the plaque, observing it with some bewilderment.

“It’s probably a love poem or something,” Ilia guessed. “Maybe the music box was a gift to a lady in your family, Link. And then it was forgotten here.”

“I guess I’ll ask Gran about it later,” I replied, setting the box down and replacing the false bottom. I closed it with a gentle click and slid it to the back of the desk for further investigation at a later date. “We should set Aryll’s room up downstairs, it’s getting late. You guys can stay for dinner after that if you want.” The music box was, at that time, more a curiosity than an object of importance, so we turned the lights out, dragged our stuff downstairs, and tidied and set up my old bedroom.

The downstairs room was significantly smaller than the attic, so it was more difficult to organize in a functional manner. Ilia made the bed with the blue and pink bedding Gran had bought, and Sheik and I worked on arranging the dresser, vacuuming and dusting. The walls were bare, a few nails sticking out where framed pictures had been (my pictures and posters had already been moved). They remained a dark forest green, which I assumed would need to be painted over eventually, and there was one window where we hung curtains that matched the bedding. We would have Aryll choose new things if she wanted to, but this was what we had for now. I turned and surveyed the room when we were done, and laughed. I hoped Aryll liked horses, because Ilia’s stuffed animals were primarily equine.

“What?” Ilia asked. She was sitting on the bed, and had been looking around the room with pride.

“That’s a lot of horses,” I explained.

“That’s all I have!” She turned up her nose indignantly.

“I’m sure Aryll will be thankful to have them,” I assured her. “It’s just a lot of horses.”

“She’s coming in on Friday, right?” Sheik asked. They were adjusting a solved rubix cube on the desk. They had brought a few puzzles, a couple lumpy throw pillows, and a bunch of makeup and jewelry that relatives had gifted them that they didn’t want. Aryll was probably a little young for makeup, but she’d grow into it, and some of the jewelry was cutesy enough that a nine-year-old would probably like it.

“Yeah. She’ll be here when I get back from school. It’s gonna be a lot.”

“Aren’t you excited, though, Link?” Ilia asked, sounding concerned.

“I am, I really am. It’s just going to be a big change. I don’t know how to be a foster brother, and I don’t think Gran has the money to support another person.”

“I wouldn’t be concerned about becoming a sibling,” Sheik stated. “Those freshmen basically think you’re their brother. You’re great at that.”

Ilia stood and rested a hand on my shoulder. “And I’m sure you and your grandma will be able to find a way around any issues you have.”

“It’s happening for a reason,” Sheik added. “Whatever happens, Aryll needs to be with you and your Grandma.”

Chapter Text

Friday morning was business as usual, and business as usual was Shad, Ashei and I sitting in physics class. Ashei and I both kept up a solid A in physics just by sort of paying attention (my favorite mechanism for learning in every class) and then memorizing every answer on the practice tests, which frequently translated directly to the actual tests. Shad kept up a solid 102% in physics by Knowing Everything and breaking the curve.

Nothing actually really happened in physics that day. Work and energy required a basic understanding of the fact that things move when you push them , a knowledge which the teacher, who had stated upfront that his favorite unit was light and reflection, didn’t seem to possess. Ashei spent a lot of time that period drawing an unflattering caricature of him on the lab table. Like I said, nothing consequential happened in physics class that day, and I’m really just using physics as a springboard for the incredibly uninteresting but arguably vitally important exchange that came next.

At 10:15, there was a hesitant knock on the door. Rauru paused class and granted the student sitting closest to the door, a rito kid named Medli, permission to answer it. It was Colin.

“I have a slip from the office,” he offered quietly, handing the small piece of paper to Rauru. Colin was an office aid on his off period, and he came into physics occasionally. He waved gently at me and I waved back with an encouraging smile, making some girls on the other end of the classroom “d’aww.” Rauru examined the slip, squinting.

“Well, Link, it looks like you’re expelled,” he joked. A stale joke, as he used it on most students, but it still made some people laugh. I walked up to the front of the class and took the slip wordlessly, reading it once I sat back down in the back of the room. It was from Impa, the counselor, and it excused me from fourth period for a required meeting with her. Rauru had already returned to his lecture, and Ashei elbowed me in the side hard enough that I grunted.

“What do they want?” She whispered.

“Nothing,” I replied, placing the slip on the lab table. “Impa just wants to talk to me.”

“Let me see it, yeah?” Ashei swiped the slip before I could react. “Precalc, huh? What, you failing?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged.

“Aren’t you like super smart?”

“Not really. And I’m not great at math.”

“Link just doesn’t care for math. He neglects it, therefore he doesn’t learn anything.” Shad didn’t look up from his note-taking as he reprimanded me secondhand. “He could pass easily if he wanted to.”

“I’m busy,” I defended myself, clicking my pen in and out with my thumb.

“Clearly,” Shad muttered. Students were starting to pack up, the rustling of twenty backpacks drowning out the sound of Rauru’s lecture. The teacher eventually gave up and dismissed us, and I waved goodbye to my friends as I set out to meet my fate.

***

The receptionist in the counseling office was a tiny, cute woman who looked just out of college, her hair dyed light blue. She smiled and offered me a mint, which I stuffed in my pocket, then sent me back to Impa’s office. The Sheikah woman was scowling at her computer screen when I arrived and knocked gently on the doorframe.

“Good morning, Link.” Impa was a younger woman, maybe thirty years old, tall and pole thin. She kept her light hair in a thin, tight braid down her back and spoke with a deep, reserved baritone. “Have a seat.” She gestured to a sitting chair beside her desk. I dropped my backpack next to it and sat down, slowly.

“Do you know why I called you here?” She asked. I nodded. Impa turned the computer screen toward me. She had pulled up my student profile and opened my grades section. “You currently have a 59% in your Precalculus class, Link.”

She didn’t pull any punches. “I know.”

“You’re failing that class.”

“I know.” I tapped my foot against the leg of the chair, then looked out the window at the autumn leaves. I thought about how autumn break was a couple of weeks away.

“This is the only class you’re failing, Link. You have As and Bs in every other subject you’re taking. You’re a top scorer in the AP History class, and last time I checked, you’d scored in the 95th percentile on your standardized tests.” Impa looked back at the screen. “Honestly, Link, I’m a little confused.”

I looked at her expectantly.

“You’ve never been an exceptional scorer in your math classes, but this is extreme. If you don’t get your grade up in that class, you will not graduate.”

I nodded miserably.

“The thing that confuses me most, though, is that you don’t seem to be trying,” she continued. “You turn in half your homework assignments and when she spoke with me, your teacher said you frequently fall asleep in class.”

“I don’t have an excuse. Sorry.” And I didn’t. That was the truth.

“I know you’re not applying to any schools, Link, but that isn’t the only goal here. Even if you don’t expect to go to college, failing to graduate would be devastating. Don’t you want to leave this school behind with all your friends, instead of taking remedial classes this summer?”

I nodded, looking down.

Impa’s voice softened a bit then, and I heard her turn the computer back around. “I didn’t call you here to yell at you, Link,” she said. “I called you here so we could explore a few options to raise your grade in that class. For one, I think it would benefit you to be alert and take notes in class.”

Well, yeah, probably.

“I’m also going to contact our National Honor Society. They have a tutoring program--”

My gaze snapped back up. “I don’t need a tutor. I can fix this myself, I don’t need someone to teach me.” I may not have particularly cared at all whatsoever about precalculus, but I had my pride to defend, at least.

“It is required by the district that any student who has been failing a core academic class for longer than one quarter semester be tutored.”

I looked at Impa blankly. “When am I going to find time--”

“I’m sure you’ll find the time somewhere,” she interrupted me. “Now, I don’t want to carry on with this meeting for any longer than is required, because I’m sure you’d rather be anywhere but here. I’m going to write you a pass for your fourth period class.” She looked at my schedule. “Advanced Placement Literature? Alright.” She jotted something down on a yellow slip of paper and handed it to me. I took it reluctantly and stood.

“Link.” I turned around and met Impa’s gaze dead-on. “I know you can do it. Senior year is hard, but I know you can push through.”

I nodded. “Thanks.” And with that, I was gone.

***

In history class I remembered that my foster sister would be at home when I returned. I didn’t sleep in math, but I didn’t pay attention, either. To be fair, I couldn’t pay attention to much with that thought racing around in my mind. As soon as seventh period ended, I bolted out the door, not eager to be confronted by the teacher yet again, but when I felt I was safe from her wrath, I found my feet dragging. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to meet Aryll. I did. I was excited to foster her. I just didn’t know what to expect.

Nothing seemed out of order when I reached my house. Epona met me at the gate, as usual. The cuccos skirted three feet around me and begged for food, as usual, but I ignored them since the weather was decent and there was a new human in my house who I had never met before. I entered the house through the front, Epona tagging along at my heels and sniffing my shoes, trying to figure out where I’d been all day.

“Hello?” I called, holding open the door.

“Hi, Link!” Gran called from back in the living room. “We’re in here!” I heard her speaking in a lower voice to Aryll as I dumped my backpack and wandered in through the kitchen, noting absently that something smelled amazing. Gran was sitting in the living room with a small blonde girl who was wearing a cute blue dress and had her hair tied back in pigtails. She was clutching a banged-up plastic telescope and was sinking into our old armchair, the one that faced the TV, looking at me with wide eyes.

“Epona, no!” Gran yelled. As soon as Epona noticed Aryll, she had bolted for her, placing her front paws on the chair so she seemed to tower over the girl. Aryll shrieked and shielded her face with her arms, cowering as Epona kissed and sniffed her exuberantly. I bounded over and grabbed Epona by the collar, hauling her off of the girl. Aryll looked on the verge of tears.

“Epona, sit.” I commanded sternly. The collie shot me a chastised look and sat, licking my hand in apology as Gran rushed over to comfort Aryll. I turned to the girl, who was watching both Epona and me with uncertainty.  “Hey, it’s okay,” I said gently. “She’s not going to hurt you. She just wanted to say hi.” Aryll didn’t offer up any kind of response. “I’m Link, and this is my dog, Epona. We’re both excited to have you stay here, and Epona just doesn't know how to show it. She’s very nice, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry, Aryll,” Gran was saying. “I was keeping Epona outside until Aryll settled in a little bit,” she explained to me.

“I’m sorry she surprised you like that,” I said to Aryll. “She’s all calmed down now, if you want to say hello. She’ll be very happy.”

Hesitantly, Aryll sat forward, offering Epona her hand to sniff.

“Stay, girl,” I warned. Epona’s tail thumped against the floor as she reached out to smell Aryll’s hand, then started to lick it gently. Aryll flinched, then started to giggle.

“She’s nice,” Aryll said, as if she was surprised.

“She’s very nice,” I repeated. “And she’s very smart. Sometimes she just gets a little too excited, and then she doesn't know what to do with her energy.”

“I get like that sometimes,” Aryll replied, still smiling at the dog. Gran heaved a sigh of relief and returned to her spot on the couch. I sat beside her, leading Epona by her collar.

“Epona, down.” She laid down and placed her head on my feet. She glanced at Aryll and wagged her tail once.

“Well, Aryll,” Gran laughed, “This is my grandson, Link. He’s seventeen.”

“Hi, Aryll.” I waved, and Epona looked up at the sound of my voice. “Sorry that was the way we had to meet.”

“Hi, Link.” Aryll smiled pleasantly, showing off a mouth full of crooked teeth.

“Aryll was just telling me about her trip here,” Gran prompted.

“It was kinda boring,” Aryll informed me. She seemed a little shy, and a little sad, maybe, but I was taken aback by her friendliness all the same. I would have felt incredibly out of place in a new house. “I rode on a plane by myself, and it was a little confusing, and Hyrule is so big and has so many people compared to my home.” She looked a little sad again at the mention of Outset Island. I didn’t blame her. She brightened up quickly, though. “But you have a very pretty and old house and I really like my room! I’m excited to live here!”

“That used to be my room, you know,” I mentioned.

“Really? Oh, thank you for giving it to me!” Aryll leaned forward in her seat politely. I still got the sense that she was reserving herself.

“We can repaint the walls if you’d like,” Gran added. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue!” Aryll replied. “Like his eyes.” She was pointing at me. Aryll’s hair was a purer blonde than mine, but her bangs fell over large brown eyes.

“Like your dress,” Gran confirmed. Aryll nodded.

A timer went off in the kitchen, and Gran hauled herself to her feet. “That’s the stew,” she informed us. “You two go on and get acquainted.” She wandered into the kitchen to fix dinner, leaving Aryll and me alone in the living room. Now, I believe I’ve thoroughly established that I’m not a conversationalist, but I’m really not a conversationalist; I was little concerned that, with Gran gone, Aryll and I might have lost common ground.

Aryll didn’t seem to have any such concerns. “Does Epona know any tricks?” The dog looked up at the sound of her name.

“Yeah,” I replied, standing. Epona mirrored my action and looked at me, tail wagging, wondering what we were going to do next. “She knows a few tricks. I can show you.” Aryll nodded enthusiastically and hopped up from her seat, joining me. She was still holding the plastic telescope, and I figured it must have been some kind of comfort object. I kneeled down and Aryll did the same, watching intently to see what Epona would do.

“Hey, hey.” I snapped my fingers to get Epona’s attention, and she cocked her head, listening. “Sit.” Epona sat. “Good girl. Right paw.” Epona lifted her right paw obediently, and I took it for a handshake. Aryll’s laugh sounded delighted; I turned to her. “You can try if you want,” I offered, and she nodded, sticking out her hand. “Epona, left paw.” Epona obeyed, pawing at Aryll’s small hand until the girl took her foot and gave her a handshake.

“Good girl,” Aryll praised the collie, who looked thrilled with herself.

“Epona: down.” Epona laid down, her face on her legs. “Over.” Epona rolled over and I scratched her behind the ear. “Okay, girl, bed!” Epona scampered into Aryll’s room; she hadn’t quite pieced together that bed was upstairs now. “Her bed used to be in that room,” I explained, and Aryll giggled.

“Epona, come!” Aryll tried out. Epona came, wagging her tail.

“Hey, you’re a real natural,” I told the girl.

“Really?” The look in her eyes was heart-melting. I smiled and nodded.

“Really.” Aryll grinned and embraced the dog enthusiastically. Epona looked up at me desperately and I shrugged.

“Where did you get Epona?” Aryll asked suddenly as I sat down next to them on the floor.

“From my friend, Malon,” I replied. “She lives a little bit down the street on a dairy farm. They make milk,” I explained. “Malon’s dog had puppies when I was a little older than you, and one of them wandered over to this house. Malon and her dad were looking for her all day, and finally found her playing with me. They couldn’t keep all the puppies anyway, so they let me keep her.”

“So you adopted her?” Aryll asked.

I paused. “Yes.”

“She loves you very much,” Aryll stated confidently, turning back to Epona and massaging her ears. Epona grumbled contentedly. “I’ve never had a dog,” she confessed. “I always wanted one.”

“Well, how about this.” Aryll looked at me expectantly. “What if Epona is your dog too while you stay here? She likes you a lot.”

Aryll’s grin could have blinded me, I swear. She nodded. “Thank you very very much, Link!” She cried.

“No problem, Aryll,” I laughed as she scampered off into the kitchen to tell Gran the amazing news.

***

I remember it was deathly quiet that night; Epona was curled up on my bed, Gran and Aryll were long asleep, and my math homework sat in my backpack untouched. The window was open, and the gentle rustling from the trees outside was the only background to the hideous scraping sound of metal on metal.

I’d stolen a knife from the kitchen and was sitting at the desk in my room, hunched over the music box, attempting to de-rust it. It wasn’t working terribly well. By midnight I hadn’t made any headway, so I creaked back down the stairs as quietly as possible (Epona followed, her claws clicking loudly in the silence) and returned to the kitchen to wash the knife. There was no ambient light so far into the woods, so I could look up and see the constellations from the kitchen window. As I craned my neck to see the stars, the faucet running loudly, a floorboard creaked behind me. Startled, I whipped around. Epona’s claws clicked toward the living room, where I could make Aryll’s little figure in the moonlight.

“Aryll?” I asked quietly, turning the water off. “Do you need something?”

Aryll shook her head quietly.

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought you were a bad guy,” she breathed.

“What?” I turned from the sink and padded over to crouch near the little girl, who was stroking Epona absently.

“I heard you moving around and I thought you were a bad guy who was going to take me. I had a bad dream.” Aryll’s voice was muted, a far cry from her excitement earlier in the day.

“About a bad guy?”

She shook her head. “About the tsunami.”

I was in far over my head. I should get Gran, I thought, then, no, I can take care of this myself. “Do you want to talk about it?” I glanced at Epona, who was enjoying having her ears scratched. “I can make some hot chocolate and Epona and I will listen.”

Aryll hesitated. The inclusion of the dog seemed to sway her, though. She nodded.

“I’ll start on the hot cocoa right now. Do you want to sit down at the table?” Aryll did so without answering. Epona followed her and sat down with her head on the girl’s lap. Aryll was quiet as I heated milk on the stove.

“Do you want to tell me what happened in your dream?” I ventured. I thought Aryll would stay quiet, but after a few moments of quiet dog petting she spoke.

“Mommy and Daddy were there. We were playing at the beach,” she said. “Then the earthquake came and we fell over again and again.” Her little voice wavered in the near-darkness. “We had to stand up and move, they said, but I couldn’t run fast enough, so Daddy picked me up. He put me down and the waves came and swept him and Mommy away and they were gone.” I stirred the chocolate in silence, then turned to the girl. She was crying.

“Is that what happened?”

“No,” Aryll sniffed. “The earthquake happened in school. The whole school almost fell over but my teacher kept me safe.” She breathed in wetly. “But Mommy and Daddy died in the tsunami. They were closer to the water.”

I moved the pan off the hot unit and made my way over to Aryll, who was hugging herself and sobbing. Epona was nosing at her arms anxiously.

“Do you...do you want a hug?” I asked. Aryll stood up and pressed herself against me, crying into my shoulder. I picked her up and sat at the table and just let her cry, not knowing what else to do. Gradually, her crying stopped and she lay against me, small and breathing. Epona nudged her questioningly.

“Link?” Aryll’s small voice quivered.

“Huh?”

“Where are your mom and dad?”

“My dad left when I was a baby,” I said, leaving out the specifics. “My mom and I lived with Gran until she died in an accident, leaving Gran to take care of me.”

Aryll rapid-fired another question at me. “Were you sad?”

“I was younger than you are now, but I was very sad.”

“Are you still sad?”

“A little, but not as much,” I answered honestly.

“But you didn’t forget her?” Aryll asked, desperately.

“No. I still think about her and I visit her grave sometimes. I can take you to see her someday, if you want.” It was next to the school, and I went a few times a year.

“Can I think about it?” Aryll asked very seriously.

“Yes.”

She hummed. “Can I have some cocoa now?”

“Yes,” I laughed. She slid off my lap and I returned to the stove, ladling the cooling hot chocolate into two mugs. I offered one to Aryll and she swallowed it down quickly, holding the mug away from Epona. The collie still lapped a few drops off the floor, but it was an inconsequential amount.

“Wow. You could win a cocoa-drinking contest,” I joked. Aryll giggled.

“You’re silly,” she said. I laughed and sipped my drink. Then Aryll yawned.

“You ready to go back to sleep?” She nodded and stood up to hug me.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“No problem.” I replied, surprised. “You’re safe here,” I added. “No earthquakes or tsunamis or bad guys. We have Epona to protect us. She’s a vicious guard dog.”

Aryll laughed disbelievingly into my chest. “She’s a good girl.”

“A good girl who will make sure nothing can get you,” I insisted half-jokingly.

Aryll pulled away, smiling and rubbing her eyes. “Good night, Link.”

“Good night, Aryll.”

I fondly watched her pad all the way back to her bedroom before suddenly remembering my math homework.