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Zelda makes a face when she swallows the fireproof elixir.
“A hundred years later and it’s still awful,” she manages, coughing as she ties her hair back. “I don’t know why I expected anything different.”
“I offered you the armor,” Link reminds her as he pulls on his Flamebreaker set. The heat beats down on them, even in the shade of the stable created by the rising sun, the heaviness of the armor and the pants weighs him down. “Are we walking or using the Master Cycle?”
He doesn’t even know why he asks, because the moment the words Master Cycle are out of his mouth Zelda’s poaching the Sheikah Slate from his belt and summoning it, watching it materialize before them with bright eyes.
“I’m driving,” she decides.
The rocky terrain and Zelda’s insane driving is an awful mix. They speed through the Maw of Death Mountain, the wheels skipping on small stones and sending them flying through the air before they crash to the ground, jostling them hard enough that Link’s stomach lodges in his throat. The sharp turn past Gero Pond nearly has them parallel with the rock as the engine roars to accommodate how hard Zelda pushes it.
“I have to figure out a way to make this faster!” Zelda yells over the noise, laughing in delight when they launch into the air. “Isn’t this fun?”
“Yep!” Link clings to her like letting go would kill him, nearly choking on his own saliva when they collide with the ground. “So much fun!”
(Thank Hylia he still has access to Mipha’s Grace.)
Master, The Master-No, its name is Fi, he has to get used to that. Fi says, There is only a 4% chance of a crash. Despite how it looks, Zelda has full control of the Master Cycle Zero.
That is, until the Guardians come into view.
Zelda squeezes the breaks and the tires skid. They nearly wipe out until Link clamps his hands over hers and slams his feet into the ground, keeping them upright through what feels like the sheer force of his will.
It’s two Stalkers, both patrolling the ledge that leads up to Medingo Pool, where the Master Cycle won’t work. They have yet to spot them.
“Stay here,” Link gets off the bike and draws the Master Sword, flicking his shield onto his arm. “I’ll take care of them.”
For the first time since Blatchery Plain, he points the Master Sword to the sky.
Good, Fi whispers. You remember it.
A sheen of light spills down the blade-
“No,” Zelda dismounts the Master Cycle and doesn’t pay attention to it disappearing back into the Sheikah Slate, staring at the corrupted machines with a strangely focused gleam in her eyes. “I will.”
She walks towards them and Link leaps to stop her, the sheen fading from the sword-
The Guardians’ heads swivel. Their blue eyes light up and twin red beams settle on his chest as malice floods their systems.
Beep beep beep beep beep-
Daruk’s Protection materializes around his body.
Zelda holds her hand out, reaching towards them over his shoulder. The Triforce burns next to his cheek, glowing so bright he has to shy away and squint to see what happens next.
It goes like this: The Triforce blazes, there’s that familiar pressure of divine magic in the air, and the malice infecting the two Guardians darkens to the blood red that plagued the 68 that tried to kill him in front of Fort Hateno.
Zelda’s fingers curl like she’s catching a ball, and there’s a deafening screech of metal as one of the Guardians is flattened as if it were stepped on by a giant. Its legs flail, kicking up rocks and dust, and then it’s gone, its body disappearing with a low whine, leaving only a pile of ancient materials in its place.
Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep-
The second Guardian fires and Zelda’s fingers clench to make a fist. The Triforce glows impossibly brighter on the back of her hand and Link’s sword hand burns like his blood is boiling-
The Guardian’s beam rockets back in its face as if it bounces off an invisible wall, causing it to fire off its own head. The body slumps, legs going slack, before any trace of it disappears and it leaves another pile of ancient materials in its wake.
Daruk’s protection, made useless by whatever just happened, fades.
Zelda releases her fist and lowers her hand, letting out a slow breath. The Triforce disappears from her knuckles.
“See?” she asks, voice distant as she stares at the empty space where the Stalkers once stood. “No fighting needed.”
Link stares at her, sheathing the Master Sword. “Zelda-”
She looks at him and smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “Ready to keep going?”
She unhooks the Sheikah Slate-
He stops her, grabbing her wrist. What is going on with your power? “The Master Cycle won’t summon past here.”
She blinks, and he can tell she’s surprised he hasn’t asked about what just transpired. “Why?”
“I’m not sure. It won’t work in the desert, either. Come on,” he leads her over to the ledge. “I’ll give you a boost.”
(If she doesn’t want to talk about it, if she wants to deflect from the clear problem presenting itself, he won’t ask until she’s ready. It would only give her more stress and more opportunity for her power to freak out.)
They walk beside each other in silence, the only sounds the hissing and popping of the nearby lava and the clink of Link’s armor and equipment that punctuates every movement he makes. Zelda, again, is lost in her own head, trailing after him the slightest bit as she absentmindedly fiddles with the Sheikah Slate.
He wishes he knew what to say to make her feel comfortable talking about whatever is happening with her power, to let her know that he’s there for her and doesn’t care what it is, just that he wants to help-
Master, Fi says. The Master Sword buzzes in his hand. I am going to show you something.
Show me what? he thinks in response.
This.
He stops walking and touches Zelda’s shoulder, opens his mouth to tell her what’s going on, but the sword hums-
He’s sitting at a table in a house he doesn’t recognize. A man with his eyes sits across from him, stabbing a chunk of meat with a fork and watching him with what looks like concern.
How was your day? The man softly asks. His hair is darker than Link’s and much shorter, cut neatly like the glimpses of the soldiers he’s seen in his memories. There’s a few gray strands by the man’s ears, and he wears a long-sleeved shirt with the ties loosened.
Link isn’t touching his food, pushing it around his plate with his fork. His palms are burned, the scars in the shape of the Master Sword’s hilt. The sword itself leans against the wall, visible in the corner of his eye.
Since when are you not hungry? The man tries again. His voice is a low hum, and there’s a warmth to it that makes Link feel safe.
Link inhales, readying to answer, but then his vision strays to the Master Sword again and a heavy weight settles in his chest. He exhales. The fork trembles in his fingers, and his eyes sting with tears.
Listen, The man puts his fork down and reaches across the table, grabbing Link’s hand and guiding his fork to the wood. His hold is strong despite the gentleness of his grip. You don’t have to say a word to me ever again, but I am your father before I am your commanding officer and I am worried. You’re pushing yourself so hard, and I know part of that is my fault, but you’re still a child. My child. Can you at least give me something so I know you’re doing all right?
Link stares at the man, at his father, and forces himself to smile as he lifts his other hand into a weak thumbs up.
His father smiles back, though Link isn’t sure he’s convinced, and says, Good soldier.
And then Link is sitting on the hot ground in Eldin, gasping for breath, with Zelda on her knees before him and holding his hands.
(Seems like it’s a Bad Day for them both.)