Chapter Text
It took two days for the fever, dizziness, and aches to fade, though the cough was taking longer to kick. Still, that was all it took for Zayla to let him go with an admonition to be gentle with himself and a reminder about Romah, and then Link was out again.
He’d already sold the monster parts and gems he’d collected by then, and Urbosa had assured him that she’d kept Revali and Daruk up to date on his recovery, so the last thing to do before he left was… visit the spa.
He was a little excited about it, even if he was embarrassed as well. But Mipha seemed to be looking forward to it almost more than he was, encouraging and firm. He thought that maybe she was most keen on him… on him taking the time to enjoy something nice, just because it was nice.
That was an embarrassing thought, too.
Link went inside and straight to the front desk, dressed once more in his Gerudo clothing, and when Romah looked up from her records, her eyes sparked in recognition. “Ah, are you Link?” Link nodded, and Romah smiled. “Zayla told me to keep an eye out for you. I do enjoy a challenge.” Link shuffled. “Oh, don’t worry, little vai. I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself plenty.”
Link turned pink and coughed in surprise, and Romah laughed.
Her hands were covered in faint marks, so many of them that it was difficult to make out individual colors; they blurred together in a shimmering, iridescent rainbow, all over her palms and fingers.
She led him into a more private room, where she directed him to undress and then lay belly-down on a cushioned table. He fidgeted a little when she considered him, but all she asked was, “Would you prefer me to refer to you as a vai or vin?”
With a grateful, shy smile, Link indicated the first. Romah smiled back, and then gestured again, so he squirmed onto the table and fidgeted a little more, unsure of the position. Even knowing she had probably seen him in much more vulnerable states, he was a little glad Mipha hadn’t followed him in.
Romah hummed thoughtfully, and after a moment, she said, “I see what Zayla meant. Some of this will be a little painful, but I should be able to loosen these up nicely. Enjoy it where you can; this is meant to be a pleasant experience.”
Unsure of how to respond, Link just hummed, and twitched a little when some oil went onto his back. Then Romah’s hands followed, smoothing it up and down, and he shivered, already starting to feel his muscles loosen like knots as her fingers passed over them. Stings of pain made him twitch and scrunch his nose, like bandages were being torn away inside him, though Romah was right - it wasn't that bad. But he was still uncertain right up until she started on one of his shoulders, massaging it in a firm circle that, after the first few rotations, made the tightness he’d gotten so used to… fade.
Link’s breath hitched, and Romah chuckled softly.
“Yes, that’s the response I was looking for,” she said with warmth, and tapped Link’s shoulderblade gently. “That’s a very pretty green your soul has.”
Then she kept going.
She wasn’t always quite as gentle; Romah was a Gerudo woman and she certainly had the muscles to prove it. Not everything was as nice as the careful manipulation of his back, either; she would pinch and pull, twist the skin of his arms and squish the scarring back and forth. A couple times Link whined loudly, at which point Romah would take a break, returning to one of the more soothing motions until Link settled again.
All of it, though, released tension in waves that made Link shiver, unwinding in places he didn’t know he could unwind, pain fading in patches he didn’t realize were hurting. Less than halfway through the massage, he was nearly dizzy with the relief alone.
He cooed, and Romah paused for a split second, made a soft ‘aw’ sound, and kept going.
Romah kept up a constant stream of quiet conversation, not really seeming to expect his participation; she told him about some of the old Gerudo who visited her most often, about Riju’s mother who used to come, and her own brief foray out of the walls of the town before she settled on her trade and came back. Link hummed along, liquid and content and half-listening, just shifting a little to give her better access as her fingers kneaded into his thighs, his calves, ankles and feet. He flexed when she told him to, and winced when she twisted especially hard, but mostly, he drifted.
He turned over without hesitation when she asked him, and what was nice on his back was even better on his substantially more scarred front. She tapped the side of his chest in silent question, and he nodded, quick and dazed. Link squirmed a little as she worked over his shoulder, chest, and stomach, forehead pinching, but she was patient and careful, and any sparks of pain faded quickly.
It felt so nice. He hadn’t realized his body could feel nice.
Romah worked over his arms with the same attentive care, shoulder to elbow to forearm to wrist and then rubbing his palm and fingers between hers, and then finished at his neck and head, gentle motion on his temples and in his hair.
“Alright,” she said at last, quiet and cheerful. “You’re all done.”
Obediently, Link ‘mm’ed and rolled off the table, then stretched tentatively, testing his skin and muscles, and felt a smile stretch across his face. He was a little stiff and sore, it was true, nothing Romah hadn’t warned him about – but it had nothing on how he usually felt.
Link cooed, stretched again, chirped a few times, clapped twice, coughed twice, and then spun on the ball of his foot, delight dancing over his skin. Zayla had mentioned trying to get his scar tissue to loosen up, but he hadn’t realized it would be like this.
Thank you, he signed cheerfully, unbothered by the fact that Romah probably didn’t know sign, and started to get dressed again.
Romah laughed. “I take it you’re feeling great. That’s good, little vai. Make sure to come again whenever you like, okay? I’ll be sure to book you in special. I’ll even tell Zayla you came like you promised.”
Thank you, Link repeated, and all but skipped out.
Once he met up with the others, he could warp to Mount Taran, and then on to Hateno Tower. He was looking forward to it.
I think I was more upset about everything than I realized, Link admitted, perched on top of Hateno tower, halfheartedly trying not to look at his friends.
“You think?” Urbosa jabbed gently, and gestured for him to go on. He shrugged.
Everything, he repeated. Being the only champion to survive, and waking up without any memories, and knowing that I’m going to have to face Ganon like… He waved at himself, hesitated, and then forced himself to sign, I think Daruk was right, and I’ll just have to approach it differently. But it’s still scary. I failed once before, with my body in much better condition, and I’m going to have to try again.
“It’s too much to put on a child,” Revali said fiercely, and it was at once exactly and not at all like the things Link had heard him say before. He scowled when Link looked at him, feathers bristling in irritation. “Don’t look at me like that. You are of an age where you ought to be apprenticed to your father, or to a trusted family friend. You should not be solely responsible for the kingdom’s wellbeing. Obviously the stress is making you sick.”
He sounded, absurdly, irritated that he even had to explain this. Link blinked at him a couple times, stunned, then covered his mouth and laughed, a mixture of relief and affection flooding through him from his chest outward.
Revali was a good friend, actually.
The laughter sent Link into a coughing fit, and it was a few moments before he caught his breath, shaking himself down; he couldn’t wait to get over that, and the sore throat that went with it. But he was still smiling faintly when he finally replied.
It’s okay. I have all of you with me, don’t I?
Before any of them could reply, he grabbed his paraglider and jumped off the tower, steering himself carefully down to the looped road below.
There was another camp of monsters in the ruins there, with another silver bokoblin at the heart; Link worked his way through them with care, circling around it and picking them off mostly with his bow. He didn’t go for the silver until the rest were all down, and while it got a couple of hits in, it still wasn’t a hard win.
This one had a trophy too – a sapphire ring on one of its fat fingers, which Link cut off before he took it.
I should really think about getting a change of clothes, he signed ruefully, sliding into the cold lake with a wince to wash off the worst of the blood and viscera, again.
“If you’re lucky, Hateno will still have a dye shop,” Mipha said encouragingly. “You could get another outfit and add some color.”
“Some color that isn’t monster blood,” Revali deadpanned, making Link laugh a little.
Maybe green, he signed. Green would be nice.
He stayed in the water for only a few minutes before the chill drove him out, shaking the excess water off like a dog and grimacing at the way his fringe plastered against his cheeks. He tugged them off his face and shook himself down again, sighing quietly, and then coughed a few times.
“On to Hateno, little brother?” Daruk asked cheerfully, rising to his feet. Link nodded, starting to walk down the trail and giving the ruins a thoughtful look.
“This was a riding track once,” Mipha explained. “We visited it together a few times, but your favorite was the one by Lon-Lon Ranch, since it was so close to your home – a little southeast of Castle Town.”
Did you ride? Link asked, the question coming out like second nature by now. She smiled, wistful and a little sad.
Only with you, she signed back, and his cheeks heated up a little.
The road from the riding track led them on to Ginner Woods, where Link allowed himself to split off and wander. The forest was thick with bokoblin, but it also had beetles and crickets, and some mushrooms that Link cut and collected, and acorns that he scooped off the ground and snacked on.
“Have you ever considered washing your food before you eat it?” Revali sniped, and Link snorted.
Not really, he admitted bluntly, and popped another into his mouth just to watch Revali ruffle his feathers in outrage. He was still smiling about that, barely keeping his snickers from escaping his mouth, when his ears caught a distant sound and he turned his head.
He picked out the two girls stuck up a tree before he consciously registered the frantic shouting. Two bokoblin were lurking and hopping below, a blue and a bright, malice-specked silver. The latter of them had a wood axe and was chopping down the tree.
Link dropped his handful of acorns and ran.
The monster camp in the old equestrian track had cost him a lot of weapons, but he had an old Sheikah spear that he wielded with almost as much skill as a sword. The first, weaker bokoblin was downed with just a handful of rapid, forceful jabs, giving Link barely enough time to roll forward away from the silver monster’s redirected swing.
The silver bokoblin had a diamond necklace, ornate and beautiful and mangled with filth and blood, half the delicate connections snapped and gaping. It gave him a grin with too many teeth to be a monster’s beastly snarl.
Link firmed up his grip on the spear and pushed forward.
The shaft of the spear was good for deflecting incoming blows, but the sharp blade of the axe still saw it broken before the end of the fight, and Link had to slash the bokoblin’s throat with the wickedly hooked speartip to send it wheezing wetly to the ground.
By the time he dropped down, coughing into one hand, he’d actually forgotten about the two women in the tree, which meant that he jumped violently when they dropped down, one after the other. One of them yelped with the motion; the other grinned at him.
“Thanks for the save, kid,” she said, dropping onto her ass with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “We really owe you one.”
Link smiled a little and inclined his head, caught his breath, and leaned down, cutting through the bokoblin’s chest to get to the throbbing heart before he went after its teeth and horns, prying them off.
The others caught up around then, and Link, for the first time, allowed himself to notice the slight eeriness of it, knowing that there were twice as many people around as the two girls knew. He wiped his hands off on his trousers, sighing at the smears of murky rust-brown blood, and then gently took the now completely broken necklace off of the bokoblin’s neck, weighing it in one hand.
There were three diamonds studded in the beautiful chain. This necklace had been very precious to somebody. With a faint sigh, he tucked it away, the necklace dissolving in a flicker of blue light.
“Oh, goddess,” the other woman groaned, dropping down to lean back against the tree. “I hate the fucking woods.”
The first laughed sheepishly, reaching up to scratch her neck. “We would have gotten away fine. I mean, we always have before.”
“A silver, Nat. A silver fucking monster.”
Nat’s smile flickered, becoming guilty, and Link hummed softly to break the sudden tension. They both turned to him.
“Thank you,” the unnamed woman sighed, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair. “That was amazing, I’ve never seen anyone take down a silver monster before. Hell, I don’t even know a lot of people who’ve run into one and lived.” She shuddered. “I didn’t realize there were any so close to Hateno.”
Link whistled, low and reassuring, and knocked the dead monster on its snout. She laughed shakily.
“Yeah… yeah, I guess not anymore.”
“Sorry about your spear though,” Nat added. “We can, um, we can try and find you a new one?”
Link shrugged, tapping his slate to pull out a new weapon. Traveler’s sword – not great, but it would do for now. He showed it to Nat and Nat whistled.
“Oh, you got your hands on Sheikah tech. That’s rare stuff. I heard you can only get it from some guy up in Akkala.” Link cocked his head. “What? The guy? No idea, I don’t mess with Akkala. I heard there’s guardians there. Even truffles aren’t worth that.”
“Shocking to hear you say that,” the other muttered. Nat huffed.
“Don’t be like that! You want truffles too.” The corner of Link’s mouth twitched, and Nat instantly turned bashful again. “Yeah, people always think it’s real funny that we’re risking our lives looking for food. But it’s the little things, you know?”
Link laughed, and then coughed again, working himself into a grimace. Nat perked up.
“Oh, I have something that might help with that!” She rummaged through her pack, then held out a small jar that Link recognized as honey. “Our mom’s a beekeeper, always makes sure we take some along, but Meghyn’s not a real honey fan. Mom lives in the South Akkala Stable if you want to drop by sometime, though.”
Link gave her a small smile, accepting the jar of honey. He dipped his finger in and sucked some off, humming pleasantly as it soothed some of the soreness of his throat.
“You’ve always liked honey and warm milk when you were sick,” Mipha said quietly, watching him with a soft expression that made him feel oddly self-conscious. He let slip another tiny smile and half a nod, putting the honey away as well, and leaned back to flick through his slate.
“Do you want me to walk you home?” He wondered how often he’d asked that, to have the phrase recorded in full.
“Nat wants to keep looking for truffles,” Meghyn said disparagingly, and Nat’s sheepish smile said it was true. Her expression softened a little when she met Link’s eyes. “Thanks though. We really will be alright. Most bokoblin don’t notice when you hop from one treetop to the next, oddly enough.”
Link wasn’t at all sure that a silver bokoblin wouldn’t, but he nodded. He pointed up the hill, and waited while Meghyn studied him before shrugging.
“That’s Hateno Village down the road, if that’s what you’re asking. Nat and I live there – Bolson makes some really cute houses, when he has the custom. Way nicer than living in a stable too, if you ask me.”
Meghyn gave Link a small smile, and he resisted the urge to look away.
Thank you, he signed, which both women seemed to take as a cue to wave, letting them part ways in opposite directions. Link listened closely as they walked away, but they were arguing about risks and it made it difficult to make out the sounds of any bokoblin that might be around.
“It’s not right for monsters to be so close to the village,” Daruk frowned. “I hope it’s being looked after.”
Link hummed reassuringly, and then winced as his breath caught and hitched, leading to another small coughing fit. He shook his hands off afterward, as if to dismiss it, and signed, It must be, if it’s still around.
“Let’s get you inside,” Mipha encouraged, moving as if to nudge him along. “The sooner you rest, the sooner you’ll get better.”
Link grunted, dubious, but moved along anyway, letting his steps stay at an idle, meandering pace. He suppressed a yawn, rolling his sore shoulders, and tugged at his sticky clothes.
“Definitely a change of clothes,” Urbosa murmured, a faint teasing lilt in her smile. “Perhaps you can wear your vai clothing while you wash those.”
He nodded, turning over his hands and frowning when he realized how stained the gloves were already. He supposed it was inevitable, but it was a shame. They were so pretty.
“Company,” Revali said, gesturing ahead, and Link lifted his gaze in time to see a man at the gate stand up, holding his pitchfork like a weapon. Link tilted his head.
“Hey!” the man barked, brandishing it like someone who had used it for more than hay as often as not. “State your name and business! Not one step further.”
Link stopped, briefly weighing his options before he signed, My name is Link. I’m just passing through.
The man’s eyes narrowed, and though his hackles fell slightly, he didn’t entirely relax. “That’s soldier’s talk, boy. Use the words Lady Nayru gave you.”
Something about that phrase tickled the back of Link’s mind like the raw ache of his throat, and he pulled a face. He reached for his Sheikah slate, and the man bristled again.
“Keep your hands off that Sheikah tech!” he barked.
Link sighed, coughed, and scowled to himself, rolling his shoulders again.
“There’s your guard,” Revali said dryly to Daruk, who didn’t look amused, frowning faintly at the man. Urbosa sighed too, exasperated.
“Go for it anyway,” she advised Link. “He’s experienced, but not trained. It’s unlikely there’s a thing he could do to you.”
Link hummed, mentally charted out the map through the communication rune, and then grabbed for it, tapping the three, four, five buttons he needed in quick succession.
“Hello. My name is Link. I can speak with my Sheikah slate. It takes some time to choose all of my words, but I can communicate effectively.”
The man at the gate paused, eying him distrustfully, but, slowly, relaxed, giving Link a stiff nod. “State your business.”
Urbosa inclined her head, so Link dropped his attention from the gatekeeper to the slate, bringing together his response in a few quick taps. “I’m a traveler. I’m passing through.” He double-checked that his gloves still covered his hands; they did.
“Selling bananas?” the man asked. Link tensed, taking a half-step back and leveling a distrustful gaze of his own, and only then did the man relax, thumping the butt of his pitchfork to the ground. “I’m not if you aren’t. But there’ve been too many Yiga around lately. Makes a man twitchy.”
After a moment, Link relaxed too and gave him a short nod. The man grinned at him, seeming perfectly friendly with the initial confrontation over.
“So! New traveler. That’s unusual, but you look young. You from one of the stables? Leaving the nest?” Link shook his head, and the man’s eyebrows flew up. “Even rarer. Name’s Thadd, by the way, I try to keep an eye on this gate here. You know.” He waved down to the woods, and Link nodded. “You a mute, son? Guess I can’t begrudge you the Sheikah tech if that’s what it’s for.” Link pulled a face again. “Oh, that rude? Sorry ‘bout that. Like I said, don’t get a lot of new folks.”
Link shrugged, glancing down at the slate again. “About Hateno?” he asked. Thadd grunted.
“Not a lot to say that everyone don’t already know,” he said unhelpfully. “Biggest town in Hyrule nowadays, has been since the Calamity tore down the rest. Couple shops, bar or two, the inn down the way and the blacksmith’s shop. Doctor’s near the inn. Oh, there’s the dye shop, no one else has one-a those.” Mipha beamed. “That’s all I can think of just now, I guess – oh, and there’s the old building way up the hill, but you don’t want to go there, trust me.”
“Thank you. Temple,” Link said, because sometimes he had to choose between clipped and painstaking and he didn’t really like painstaking when he was this tired. Thadd snapped his fingers.
“Oh, yeah, I guess there’s that too. The old folks like to hang out there. It’s on the western shore of Zelkoa Pond, way up there.” He waved. “Not a point of interest to most these days, but to each their own, I guess.”
Link shrugged, repeated, “Thank you,” and wove through the lengthening shadows towards the general area Thadd had indicated; Mipha or Urbosa would be able to lead him the rest of the way there.
“Speaking of the temple, shouldn’t you have learned a bit about Hylian braiding styles by now?”
“Revali, I don’t have hair.”
Link smiled a little, reached up to tangle one fringe around his finger, and kept going.
There was a blue-lit furnace embedded into the side of the temple, and the other was built almost into the water. There was something on the roof, too, but Link couldn’t see what it was without climbing to look. The whole structure was worn down and weather-beaten, but the sturdy stone had held together through the ages, and Link found himself almost hesitant to go inside, stained with half-dried monster blood, hair matted and unbrushed, boots crusted with nameless filth.
“Go on,” Urbosa said, giving him a small smile, and with a wave of her hand, Link found himself inside as if compelled.
It looked… time-worn but well-loved, Link thought.
There was a goddess statue at the back of the large room, the only thing in the temple that was clean of dust. There were three offering bowls at its feet, all empty. There was a bookshelf, thick with dust, on Link’s left, and a few small tables with old wooden chairs on his right. Those were the cleanest, the dust brushed away by frequent use.
Link went for the bookshelf, knelt in front of it, and started to pick quietly through the tomes. The others stayed quiet.
Link appreciated it. No memories were coming to his mind, but he felt the peace of this place in his heart, comforting and kind. He’d spent a lot of time here.
He pulled books off the shelf, one after another, and when he had as many as he could carry, he picked them all up and took them to one of the tables, where he sat and started to flick through them.
The first was a complete record of every prayer one woman had made to Hylia, reading more like a diary than a book of devotion. There were a few of those, Link realized after a while, some of them handwritten, some of them unfinished. He wondered how many were from residents of this town.
Another was dedicated to the golden goddesses, and the more rigid prayers of devotion they demanded. Link ran his fingertips down the yellowed page, and the beautifully inscribed words sounded like Zelda in his head.
One of them was a children’s book of faith, cutely illustrated, with promises of love and compassion and kindness without condition. He flipped through that one more slowly, feeling strangely wistful.
Anything you’d tell your mother, you can tell Lady Hylia, one passage said. Scraped knees and lost keys, fear of the dark and missing the park, your mother will always listen.
One of them was called Strands of Faith: Composure and Comfort in Hylian Hairstyles. And like Link hoped, it had diagrams of braiding, ones he half-recognized and ones he didn’t, and with Mipha’s help, he flicked through the book until Mipha stopped him.
He read the instructions twice, nodded to himself, and closed his eyes.
It was a relatively simple style, weaving the fringes of his hair into spiraling braids that kept his hair from flying loosely into his face. He didn’t have anything to tie them off with, so he had to let them loose, and the first was already falling apart as he moved to the second.
But when he blinked his eyes open again, he found himself oddly… relaxed. Like something had settled into place.
Like he was finally, for the first time, ready to face the day.