Chapter Text
It was an old Sheikah relic, Impa had explained as she gave it to Link, passed down through uncounted generations. Used by ancient heroes in journeys long past, the Lens of Truth pierced through deception and lies to show that which was hidden—to reveal the ultimate truth in its unblinking eye.
…Or something like that. Link took his legends with a dose of skepticism these days, all too aware of how even one hundred years could shift a story sideways. Still, he'd thanked Impa for the gift, and quickly found a few good ways to use it. Taluses were made obvious at a distance now, and those treasure-headed Octoroks never got the jump on him anymore. Most importantly, Link could identify Yiga with it at a glance, and that alone made it more than worth the space it took up in his pockets. Now, instead of reacting warily to each lone traveler he met on the road, he could reach for his hidden hand glass, looking through surreptitiously to see if all was as it seemed.
Of course, the Yiga only ever tried to pass as Hylians, which meant that when Link first came across the strange Rito playing violin by moonlight, the Lens of Truth never even crossed his mind.
Link heard him before he saw him, though the lantern hanging from a pole at his belt marked him against the night soon enough. Pale gray feathers stuck out in tufts above a wide-brimmed hat, fading to dusky charcoal where the tips of his wings held both bow and violin, with a thick, woven poncho hiding everything in between.
The melancholy music tugged Link forward as surely as Kass's cheerful accordion ever had, until he stood before the stranger. The brim of the hat pulled low masked the Rito's expression, but the bow paused against the strings at Link’s approach.
"It's a bit late for traveling, don't you think?" he asked, raising his head enough for Link to make out one green eye. "Old bones have been known to attack those who travel past sunset."
Link shrugged, watching the stranger closely. Stalmonsters weren't any harder to deal with than their living counterparts. Easier, in fact.
"I've not had a problem with them."
"No?" The Rito's laughter had a short, bitter edge that matched his mournful music. "Well, I'm in no position to call you cocky. You are still alive, after all." Setting the violin aside, he reached inside his poncho, pulling out a rolled-up cloth. “Since you are both here and alive, would you care to examine my wares?”
Brow furrowed, Link leaned in to look as he rolled it out.
”I thought you were a bard.”
"I play as well as that, do I?" the Rito said, a satisfied smirk twisting the corner of his beak. "Of course I do. I've had plenty of time to practice, after all… but no. I simply deal in arrows."
And so he did. Spread out on the cloth for Link's perusal was every kind of arrow he'd ever seen, plus a few he didn't recognize. Picking up the strangest one of the lot, Link examined its mechanical arrowhead curiously.
"An ancient arrow," the Rito said, his smirk more pronounced now. "I'd be a bit more careful with that one… assuming you enjoy this plane of existence, that is."
Link stopped just short of uncovering the arrow's hidden point, flushing as he set it down carefully. Some of them were no doubt far outside of his price range, but it never hurt to restock on arrows, and these looked like they would fly straight.
”How much?”
"Oh, make me an offer, I suppose," the Rito said, sounding far more disinterested in the topic than most merchants were. "I've not much patience for haggling."
That turned out to be true enough. Link felt almost embarrassed at how little he paid in the end for a full quiver of arrows, elementals included, though he had the feeling that the merchant would have taken a lower offer still if Link had dared to make it.
”Heading to Rito Village?" the strange merchant asked as he took his handful of Rupees, watching Link out of the corner of one eye with uncomfortable intensity. Link could almost believe he suspected Link of trying to cheat him, except he hardly seemed to care about that one way or another. "I could point you in the right direction, if you'd like."
"Uhhh… no." An odd question, considering that Rito Village was nowhere nearby as far as Link knew. "I'm looking for Zora's Domain, actually. Do you know the way?"
”I'm afraid not." The merchant’s sardonic grin looked lopsided now. "Somebody else can help you there, I'm sure."
He bent as if to roll up his much depleted pack, but Link stopped him.
”What are those?" he asked, pointing towards a few unassuming arrows tucked off to the side that had escaped his notice earlier. There wasn't much to differentiate them from the standard arrows already filling his quiver. In fact, Link couldn't really say what about them had caught his eye, aside from maybe their curiously blue-feathered fletching.
”Ahhh." From the merchant's expression, he'd been waiting for Link to ask. Holding one of the arrows delicately, he ran a feathered finger along its perfectly straight shaft. "A creation of my own design. These arrows will hit whatever you aim them at."
"Isn't that how all arrows work?" Link quipped, and was met with a sharp glare.
”You misunderstand," the Rito emphasized. "These arrows will strike where you aim them." His smirk returned. "Even the most average marksman could make good use of these." The words "like you," though not spoken, came strongly implied.
Link frowned, though not (entirely) out of offense. Such a claim sounded beyond farfetched, yet for some reason he believed it. He also believed he'd be paying far more for these arrows than he had the others.
"How much?" he asked warily. Sure enough, the merchant hummed as if in thought.
”Shall I part with such a treasure for mere Rupees?" he mused, still playing with the arrow absently. "I'll admit I had in mind a bargain somewhat less traditional—information, perhaps? I have three of these special arrows in my possession at the moment, however…" His visible eye flicked towards Link's face. "I will trade all three away in exchange for one question answered honestly."
Confused, Link nodded slowly. He felt as short on answers as he was on Rupees these days, but with nothing to lose he might as well try.
”Shoot.”
”What makes someone deserving of a second chance?"
"...What?" Link blinked, caught entirely off guard. Somehow, he hadn't expected anything quite so philosophical. "What do you mean?"
"A second chance," the arrow merchant repeated impatiently, as if he thought Link should have predicted this strange turn in conversation. “An opportunity to rectify a failure, or right one’s own wrongs. What makes one person worthy of such a chance, while another must wallow in their own defeat with no hope for redemption?”
“I…”
Link went quiet, considering his answer. The question must have meant something to this odd Rito, or he wouldn't have asked it. At the very least, Link had the strong impression that any less-than-earnest answer on his part would be dismissed outright.
"Maybe nobody deserves one, exactly," Link said at last, thinking it through as if it was some kind of riddle. Was it? "That's what makes it a second chance, right? Or... some people get one and some people don't, but I don't think it's a mark of worthiness. Terrible people get second chances sometimes."
"I see." The brim of the stranger's hat pushed low over his face again. "What determines who gets that second chance, then?"
Link shrugged.
"Fate?" he suggested, a bit helplessly.
The stranger gave the same laugh as before, short and bitter.
"It always comes down to fate, doesn't it?" he sighed. "The hero chosen by the sword… fate's eternal darling." Raising his head at last, the Rito met Link’s gaze directly for the first time, his eyes glinting harshly. "So by your own estimation, you did not deserve your second chance?"
Link froze. Maybe it was the challenge in those green eyes that gripped him with familiarity—or the memory, still recent, of an old man's tattered clothes transforming in an instant to kingly raiment that burned with ghostly fire. Whatever it was, Link found himself reaching for the Lens of Truth, pulling it out slowly.
Somehow, the Rito caught his intention.
"Think carefully before looking," he warned, and though he didn't quite step forward, Link felt the intensity of his stare like a weight against him. "Once you've seen the truth, this is over."
Though Link stopped short of looking, he made no move to put the lens away, either.
"What's your name?" he asked coldly—and to his surprise, the Rito laughed.
"Ill-bred Hylian," he said, shaking his head. "Finally got around to asking, did you? If you must call me something, you may call me Vale. Does that suffice?"
Slowly, Link nodded. Not his true name, obviously, but still better than nothing.
"And what is 'this,' exactly?"
"Why, me selling you arrows, of course. At unbeatable prices," he added dryly—but then his humor faded into something uncertain. "And… something else, maybe? My own second chance, perhaps, little though I deserve it."
The Lens of Truth slipped back inside Link's pocket, and though again Vale didn't visibly move, Link felt his relief like a cool breath of wind. With a flourish, he presented all three arrows, blue-feathered fletching pointed outward.
"As we agreed," he murmured as Link took them silently. "May they always fly true, as promised."
Their exchange concluded, Vale retrieved his violin from where he'd put it aside.
"Give my regards to Mira when you see her," he said, tucking the chin rest beneath his beak and setting the bow on the strings. "It's been a long time."
Link frowned.
"Mira?"
But Vale was already playing, the melody echoing mournfully over Necluda's darkened hills as he ignored Link completely. Disgruntled, Link watched him play for another moment before turning reluctantly back the way he'd come. Vale couldn't have made it more clear that he'd been dismissed.
On the point of putting the arrows away, Link paused to examine one, running his fingers along the blue feathers. Arrows that never missed... well, he might as well test one out to see if he'd gotten what he 'paid' for. Seized by a mischievous impulse, Link drew his bow, whirling around and aiming for Vale's hat.
A darkened hilltop met his eyes, filled only with the already fading sound of a violin.