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Chapter Text

For the first time in Hyrule’s history, it is public knowledge that the Master Sword sleeps in the Temple of Time.

Many a man has tried their luck at being the world’s next Hero, and many a man has dropped dead the moment their hands wrapped around the sword’s angry, burning hilt.  

It’s why, though it’s not illegal to try and pull the blade of evil’s bane, the Queen of Hyrule has stationed one of her many knights to guard it and deter any Heroic hopefuls from possibly killing themselves.

Link, though, Link isn’t looking to kill himself, but he is looking to pull the sword.

He’s been having dreams, you see, of a blade wreathed in golden light calling his name, calling him, The one chosen by my creator, and, My Master, so it has to mean something, doesn’t it? No one else in his village has been having these dreams, and no one else has wanted to try and pull the mystical sword that, according to legend, was once wielded by the Goddess herself before any of her Heroes were born.

(Granted, Link is the only swordsman in Hateno. A village as tiny and unknown as that only needs one protector.) 

So Link takes his horse, Epona, and rides out into the night, squinting down at a shoddily made map he bought from a small man in green on the side of the road and in search of the Temple of Time. Dressed in an old gray tunic, his warmest pair of pants, boots, and his cloak, he looks every inch the random traveler and not a potential Hero.

(So what? Green dye is expensive, and he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that stupid hat.) 

He’s in the middle of turning east when out of nowhere there’s this…this lurch in his gut that pulls him west instead. The map crinkles in his hands and he almost loses it when there’s a bump in the road that has Epona shifting her hooves on the dirt, but he manages to keep it between his fingers and clings to the reins, tightening his thighs around his horse’s flank to stay in the saddle.

The one chosen by my creator… The sword in his dream, its call, is louder when he faces west. My Master…

His eyes finally adjust to the dark, and he spots a temple’s silhouette on the horizon, its outline illuminated by the faint moonlight.

With a swift kick and a roaring, “Hyah!”, Link pushes Epona into a furious gallop, racing towards the echoing sound of the voice that pulls his very soul in its direction.    

—

The Master Sword is…smaller than he was expecting, resting silent and still at the foot of a large Goddess Statue.

Granted, he’s hiding in a bush just outside the Temple of Time, waiting for the guard to leave her post so he can try and pull the sword without issue, staring into one of the open windows, but still. He was expecting something…something grand, something with an air of weight to it, something magnificent, not this…not this letter-opener that looks like any other blade he’d find washed up on the beach or in a soon-to-be-dead bokoblin’s hand.

Another lurch in his gut and the back of his right hand tingles. From where he left her a few feet away, Epona huffs and stomps the grass as if she’s trying to tell him, Get on with it already.

The tingling gets worse, and the knight standing guard over the sword that seals the darkness perks up and stares off towards the entrance to the temple, a hand drifting to her hip where her sword lies in its scabbard. Then her eyes light up, and her hand leaves her blade as her lips spread into a smile. 

“Finally,” she breathes, relieved, stepping forward and away from the Master Sword. “I haven’t eaten since lunch!”

“That was stupid of you,” A man’s voice says. Link puts his hood up, stretches his neck to see over the windowsill, and stares at a tall, young Knight of Hyrule passing a wrapped square to his fellow soldier. “I told you to bring snacks.”

“And Amelia told me to watch out for thieving squirrels,” The woman unwraps the square and-

Oh, it’s just a sandwich. Link was hoping for chocolate, something the townspeople of Hateno Village can never afford to buy from Central Hyrule’s traveling merchants.

(He’s heard it’s good. Really good, and he’s made it his life’s mission to be able to afford even just one square.) 

“She only has issues with squirrels because she feeds them when she gets bored and they’re trained to expect scraps.”

(After pulling the Master Sword, of course. Do Heroes get free chocolate?)

Epona huffs again, shaking her head and disrupting the neatness of her mane that he worked so hard to brush before he left his house on the hill for the weapon resting in the southwest corner of Hyrule Field.

Fine, Link thinks, moving out of his hiding spot and vaulting over the windowsill, soundlessly landing inside of the Temple of Time and sticking to the shadows, staying out of view of the two knights still talking before the Master Sword’s pedestal.

Like the Goddess is on his side, they both turn their backs on it, too engrossed in their conversation to even notice him out of the corners of their eyes.

He almost wonders why they’re being so lax with the security surrounding a literally legendary weapon until he remembers: A Hero hasn’t been needed for centuries. The Master Sword, for all of its power, for all of its purpose, is more of a historical artifact than an actual harbinger of hope.

Licking his lips, his mouth going dry as his heart pounds, Link stands before the Master Sword. His hands hover around the hilt, his fingers twitching, begging to wrap around the criss-cross pattern of the purple-blue hilt-

His eyes flick to the face of the Goddess Statue, to her serene smile and her unseeing eyes. 

Don’t kill me, he prays, taking a deep breath. Please don’t kill me. 

“Hey!” One of the knights’ voices comes from behind him. There’s the familiar shink of a sword being unsheathed. “Stop! What do you think you’re-”

Link is twenty-five when he pulls the Master Sword from its pedestal in the Temple of Time, screaming at the top of his lungs as the hilt steams and sizzles against his skin. 

The pain is indescribable, almost blinding in its intensity, and when the world finally comes back into focus, when he can breathe properly, there is a glowing Master Sword in his hand and the criss-cross pattern of its purple-blue hilt is burned into his palms. 

(There is, supposedly, a voice in his head that has yet to speak.)

“Holy Hylia,” A man’s voice whispers.

Link meets the eyes of the two Knights of Hyrule, who both stare at him with slack jaws. The woman’s half-eaten sandwich falls from her hand.

“Shit,” he breathes, before his eyes roll back in his head and he crumples to the stone.

—

Stop thinking about it, A shattered voice hisses in his ear. Kill me, kill me, kill me-

—

Link comes to on his knees in a grand throne room, his hands bound behind his back and chained to a stake in the carpeted floor. The Master Sword is strapped to his spine in a blue and gold scabbard that’s clipped around his chest, digging into his wrists. 

Blinking, he glances up and is met with the sight of three women on a raised dais before him. One sits on an ornate throne in the center, wearing a purple dress and a golden crown adorned with emeralds, rubies, and sapphires that makes her graying brown hair shimmer in the torchlight. Her fingers dig into the wooden arms of her throne, and her icy blue eyes glare into his soul. 

Queen Zelda, he identifies. He’s only seen her in portraits. 

Which makes the woman standing to her left, closest to the stairs leading to the rest of the throne room, the Crown Princess of Hyrule. 

Princess Zelda is twenty-six years old and radiant in her white dress, standing with her hands clasped before her stomach. She’s staring off into space, her long blonde hair flowing down her back and her eyes a brilliantly bright blue, like the sky on a clear summer day.

(She’s the most beautiful woman Link has ever seen.)

The third woman is a handmaiden, robed in white with the lower half of her face and the entirety of her hair covered. She stands close to the princess, openly staring at the blade on his back with narrow red eyes. 

(Why are there no knights in the room? Wouldn’t the Royal Family appearing in the throne room with a prisoner—because he is a prisoner, for some unknown reason, he’s bound and on his knees for Hylia’s sake—require some form of protection?)

“Your name,” The queen orders, drawing his attention. 

“Link,” he answers. Both the queen and the handmaiden look at him square on, but Princess Zelda’s eyes slide down to somewhere by his knees. “I’m from Hateno Village, Your Majesty. The only swordsman there.”

(Why isn’t the princess looking at his face?)

“And what, exactly, possessed you to try and walk off with my family’s most sacred possession? To protect your village?”

The Master Sword hums on his back and his mouth opens-

“I wasn’t trying to ‘walk off’,” he says, the words coming to him out of thin air, “And the Master Sword is not a possession like some kind of keepsake or heirloom, Your Majesty, it’s a weapon; A weapon that belongs to no one but me.”

The queen raises an eyebrow, and the red-eyed handmaiden huffs. The corners of Princess Zelda’s lips twitch up before smoothing out into a firm line.

"I am the Hero," he continues. "The sword is mine by decree of the Goddess herself."

(What the hell is he even saying? Why is he saying it?)

Queen Zelda turns to her daughter, reaching over the arm of the throne and touching the back of her hand. Princess Zelda leans over, and her mother whispers in her ear.

The princess nods, straightening. Her fingertips glow gold.

The hairs on the back of Link’s neck stand up. He tenses in place, getting ready to run even though there’s nowhere for him to go, his shoulders hunching under the invisible pressure that fills the room. 

(He’s heard the stories about her, about the Golden Power.)

Three golden triangles appear on the back of her right hand.

(Stories of how the mere sight of her on Hyrule’s shores sent enemy navies running for their lives.)

“Why did you pull the Master Sword?” Princess Zelda’s voice is strong, lilting with the same noble accent as her mother’s but filled to the brim with an undercurrent of…of it. Of the Golden Power, of magic. 

“I…” Link falters. What’ll she do to him if she doesn’t like his answer? “I just wanted to see if I could.”

A strangled noise leaves Queen Zelda’s throat, and her grip tightens on the arms of her throne. “What did you just say?”

“I wanted to see if I could,” he quietly repeats, staring up at the princess, wanting her to meet his eyes so she’ll see him and know that he’s telling the truth despite the fact that he’s actually talking to her mother- “We’ve all heard the stories about it, Your Majesty, about how the Master Sword kills those it deems unworthy of being its wielder? Well, I’ve heard the stories of the Heroes, of the great quests they embarked upon, of their glory, and they’re…the stories are familiar to me, somehow. I felt like I could do what they did all those centuries ago, I felt like I was worthy. I was planning on going to the Temple of Time anyways, to either pull the sword or die trying, but for the past week I’ve been having dreams about it, about the Master Sword. I’ve been having dreams about it calling me, about it wanting me to find it and pull it free, so I finally listened. I did what it wanted, and…”

Link takes a breath. 

“And it turns out I’m worthy,” he finishes. “I’m the Hero.”

Silence. 

(Princess Zelda’s eyes lift from his knees to his stomach.)

“If you hadn’t lost consciousness,” Queen Zelda says, frowning- “If the knights hadn’t brought you to us and you had the Master Sword, what would you have done with it?”

“I don’t understand, Your Majesty.”

“You said you wanted to pull the Master Sword to see if you could, and you can. What now?”

Keeping his eyes on the princess’s golden hand, Link shrugs with one shoulder. “Honestly, I didn’t think this far ahead. I just wanted to see if I could survive the sword’s wrath.” 

The Queen of Hyrule says nothing, just continuing to stare at him. Princess Zelda’s handmaiden touches the princess’s shoulder and harshly whispers in her ear. Princess Zelda herself closes her eyes. 

“Darling?” Queen Zelda looks to her daughter.

“He is telling the truth,” Princess Zelda says, opening her eyes, the Golden Power finally fading from her fingertips. “And he of course is the Hero. I can feel the connection between us.” 

“This doesn’t make sense,” The queen breathes, glancing between her daughter and Link still bound to the floor. “Hero, there are monster attacks in your Hateno Village, correct?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Link nods, feeling like he can breathe again now that the pressure in the air is gone. “It’s only the stray Bokoblin or Lizalfos, nothing too serious.”

“So they are normal?” 

“Yes,” he nods again, furrowing his eyebrows. “It’s been that way for generations, hasn’t it?”

“I’ve had no troubling dreams,” Princess Zelda says, turning her head in her mother’s direction. “I never have.”

Queen Zelda looks at them for another minute, then swallows before raising her voice and calling, “Guards!”

Behind Link, doors slowly creak open and there are rapid footsteps. Two knights appear on either side of him, different from the ones at the Temple of Time.

“Place Link of Hateno Village in Lockup for the night,” The Queen of Hyrule orders. “And prepare a room for him to use in the morning, I don’t care which one as long as its befitting a man of his station.”

“Wait, what?” Link asks, even as his hands are freed from the stake in the floor and he’s forced to his feet. “What station?”

“The station of the Hero,” she rises from her throne. “Whatever that means, now.”

“Now what?” he thrashes in the knights’ grip but to no avail. “Don’t I get to go home?”

She doesn’t answer, passing by the princess as she walks to the steps to leave the dais her throne sits upon. She touches her daughter’s shoulder, and Princess Zelda’s head turns away from the empty throne and in the queen’s direction.

(She didn’t notice her mother getting up and walking away?)

As Link is pulled away, pulled back out of the throne room, he watches the princess. 

Princess Zelda’s hand wanders in the air before catching her handmaiden’s forearm. She turns her head to the red-eyed woman with a soft smile, not staring directly at her, either. There’s no…focus in her gaze, and as soon as the handmaiden guides her to the steps, gently speaking as they slowly descend, taking them one at a time, Link understands. 

Her not looking at him until he spoke, the direction of her eyes being off, not knowing her mother was somewhere else until she was touched and the handmaiden helping her down the stairs…

Princess Zelda is blind.

The doors to the throne room shut in his face as he’s dragged down a hallway, and the Master Sword hums on his back. 

Chapter Text

His cell is…nice, despite the fact that it’s a cell.

It’s large, spacious, and a knight even brings him a few pillows and a thick blanket that definitely came off of a king-sized bed, along with a handful of candles.

“To brighten it up down here,” The man explains, feeding them to Link through the bars along with a box of matches.

“If I’m such an esteemed guest, why am I locked in here?” Link asks him, setting the candles and matches down on the metal cot that act as his bed, layered with the folded blanket and his cloak. 

“Her Majesty doesn’t want you running off back to Hateno Village.” 

“Then why let me keep the sword?” he points to his left, where he’s leaning the Master Sword against the cot, before returning to the bars.

The other man stares at Link, more specifically at Link’s hands. Link follows his brown eyes and catches sight of his scorched, blistering palms.

“Oh,” he says, staring at them, too.

(Why is he not feeling the pain of the burns? They’re deep, did they fry his nerves, has he lost feeling in his—No, he has feeling in his hands, he could feel the sword’s scabbard, he could feel the blanket they gave him-)

“We’re gathering the medicine needed to help those heal,” The knight tells him. “I should be back with-”

(It’s shock, he’s in shock, and when that shock wears off he’s going to be in for a world of pain-)

There’s a deep tug in Link’s gut and the Master Sword buzzes against the wall-

Down the hall, a door yawns open. The knight turns his head to the right, and his eyebrows raise, his spine straightens-

The back of Link’s right hand tingles, itches, burns-

“Your-Your Highness!” The knight calls, his voice echoing, and he lifts his hand to adjust his helmet before saluting. “I didn’t know you’d be coming down here!”

Like a man possessed, Link staggers forward and presses his face to the bars, straining to see her-

“You’re relieved, Anton,” her voice is close, so close, she’s so close- “I’d like to speak to him in private.”

She steps into view, shaking out her right hand, and the tug in Link’s gut stops but his very soul sings-

Her head turns and her blue eyes drift to his nose. It almost looks like she’s looking him in the eye. “Hello, Hero.”

“Hi,” he manages, staring at her.

She’s in the same white dress as before, and now that they’re on the same level he spots the sandals on her feet. Her long blonde hair is braided back, whereas in the throne room it was loose and flowing. He wonders why the change in such a short amount of time, maybe to keep it out of the dirt that sullies the dungeon’s stone floor?

The knight, Anton, bows his head to her, murmuring, “Highness,” as he walks away. 

Princess Zelda waits until the door down the hall squeals shut before asking, “We are alone, aren’t we?”

It takes Link a minute to realize she’s talking to him. He cranes his neck, trying to see down both ends of the hall, and from what he’s able to it looks like they’re alone. “Pretty sure. I can’t see the whole hall with the bars blocking my face.”

She frowns. “You’re actually locked in the cell? I thought my mother was joking when she said that.”

Link moves over to the cell door and tries to open it, rattling it against its stone frame and the rest of the bars. The princess jolts before her head whips in his direction. 

“Does your mom usually like to joke?” he asks, stopping the noise.

“Sometimes.” Her sightless eyes find his throat. “Queens aren’t meant to be funny.”

“Are you funny, Your Highness?”

Her lips twitch. “Princesses can get away with a joke or two. What about you, Hero? Are you funny?”

“I don’t know,” Link shrugs. “I can make the kids in my village laugh, but never their parents.”

Princess Zelda smiles, takes a step towards him, and holds out her hands. “Can I see your hands?”

“My hands?”

“Someone is supposed to bring you medicine for your wounds, but my magic does have healing properties.”

Link’s eyes drop to her hands, held out to him before the bars of the cell.

“I, um…” he falters. “To be honest with you, Princess Zelda, I…I’ve heard the stories about the Golden Power.”

“Stories?” she frowns. “What stories?”

“That it’s a weapon of mass destruction that sends our enemies running for their lives at the sight of it.”

“That was how one of my ancestors used it to establish the peace we’ve had for generations. I haven’t had to use it for anything but ceremonies. Where did you hear that?”

“I read it in a book back home. I guess it’s outdated?”

“Yes,” Princess Zelda nods. “It absolutely is. Are all books outdated in Hateno?”

“Well,” Link laughs a little, loosening up now that he knows he’s not about to die. He’s never been happier to be wrong about something. “Now that you say the one I read is I’m not sure. Hateno isn’t known for its libraries.”

“What is it known for, exactly?”

“Farming. We supply you with wheat, corn, sometimes carrots if the soil is forgiving.”

“And you said you’re the only swordsman there?”

“Yeah,” Link nods. “You don’t need an army to protect crops in a poor farming village no one knows.”

“So what will they do with you being gone?”

He chuckles. “The same thing they did while I was there: Live their lives. I didn’t do much sword-swinging, only clearing out some monsters on the beach every couple of months, and even then it was so I had something to do. They’ve never reached the village regardless of a swordsman being there or not.” 

Princess Zelda swallows. “I see.”

Link slips his hands between the gaps of the cell bars. “I’m holding out my hands. They’re right in front of yours.”

She tentatively reaches out and her fingertips brush against his.

Her hands are soft and smooth, her touch gentle as her fingers glide over the minuscule scars on his knuckles before coming to rest on his blistered, now-stinging palms.

Link hisses a curse through his teeth, and the princess frowns as she turns his hands up so his palms face the ceiling.

“These burns feel strange,” she murmurs, trailing her fingertips over them. “It’s like there’s a-a pattern-”

“The Master Sword’s hilt,” he murmurs back. “They didn’t tell you?”

“I knew you were burned from the sword, but I didn’t think…You must be in so much pain.”

“They’re starting to sting a bit, guess the shock’s wearing off.”

Princess Zelda takes a deep breath. “The Golden Power is warm, it might make it feel worse before it starts to feel better. Or you can wait for the medicine and heal the slow way.”

Link searches her face. “Why don’t we see how long I last without crying?”

She laughs.

(Maybe he’s funny after all.)

— 

The heat of the Golden Power, while definitely uncomfortable, isn’t as painful as he was expecting.

Though maybe his pain is a little dulled by the sight of Princess Zelda lit up like a firefly and her braid floating off her body like she’s underwater, three golden triangles burning on the back of her right hand.

(For all of his newly-assuaged fears of the Golden Power, of the magic the blood of the goddess grants her…watching it is incredible.)

“Has the sword spoken to you, yet?” she asks him, cradling his left hand and soothing the angry burn of his skin with a tender swipe of the Goddess’s warmth, leaving behind fresh, pink scars in the shape of the Master Sword’s criss-crossing hilt.  

“No,” he replies, in awe of his rapidly healing, very tingly hand. “Not since I pulled it.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “You think it spoke to you before you pulled it?”

“I kept hearing a voice in my dreams, calling me ‘The one chosen by my creator’ and ‘My Master’, and there was this…this pull towards Hyrule Field ‘till I found the Temple of Time and the sword. I couldn’t have turned away from it if I tried, but after I woke up in your throne room all I’ve gotten from it is silence.”

“Why do you think it hasn’t spoken to you now that you’ve pulled it?”

He glances back at the Master Sword, leaning silent and still against the wall of his cell. “I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t like me.”

Her lips twitch into a smirk. “Have you tried telling it a joke?”

He smiles back, makes sure it shows in his voice when he retorts, “I was too busy getting arrested to really introduce myself.”

She breathes a laugh. “If I were on the throne we’d be doing this over dinner, not through the bars of a cell.”

“And would you let me go back home?”

The princess shrugs, her fingers pausing on his palm as she heals a particularly painful spot that has him wincing. “It depends on whether or not you’d come back. My mother isn’t a fan of what-ifs, which is why she decided to go for the extreme and lock you down here.”

“So I’m guessing you don’t know what she was talking about in the throne room? Why she was asking me about the monster attacks in Hateno?”

“I have an idea,” she blinks a few times, and the Golden Power dims for a moment before its back in full force. “Sorry, I’ve never had to use it for this long.”

“It’s all right,” he tells her. “I’ve got nowhere to go.”

She smiles again, says, “Right,” and goes back to healing him, switching to his right hand.

“Can…” Link trails off, staring at her unseeing eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

Her hands glow a little brighter when they reach the center of his palm, the worst of his wounds. “Are you wondering how I lost my sight?”

His ears burn. “Sorry.”

“It’s not wrong to wonder, Hero. I wasn’t born blind, if that’s what you were thinking.”

Link frowns. “There’s no scarring around your eyes, and they look…”

“‘Normal’?” she finishes.

“Yeah,” he answers, voice small. 

She nods. “Not all blind people have the same eyes. It depends how they lost their sight.”  

He waits. She traces golden streaks over the blisters on his right hand, erasing them in favor of tingling scar tissue. 

“Everyone describes the Golden Power as the warmth of the sun itself,” she starts, quiet. “Apparently, at full strength, it’s brighter than that.”

It doesn’t take him long to fill in the blanks. 

“You…blinded yourself?” he guesses. “With the Golden Power?”

Again, she nods.

“A-” he pauses, catching himself. 

(An accident, right? he was going to say, like that’s not the dumbest question for him to ever ask-) 

“I was two,” she tells him, ignoring the beginning of his forgotten sentence. “And scared of the dark, too impatient to wait for my mother to grab a candle. It was my first time using the Golden Power, so I didn’t know how to control it. I…” she laughs a little. “It’s funny to hear and talk about it now, but I, ah…I used it at full strength in my own face. I was too young to realize I could close my eyes and look away to block out the light.”

Link’s mouth hangs open. 

“Best lesson in patience I ever had, and I don’t even remember it,” she jokes, releasing his hands as the golden glow permeating her skin finally fades. “How do you feel?”

He flexes his fingers, relieved when there’s no pain, and marvels at his scars. “Painless, I…Thank you, Your Highness. That was…That was really amazing.”

“It was no problem, Hero,” she tucks a strand of blonde hair that’s escaped from her braid behind her ear. “My pleasure, really.”

“Please,” he says, pulling his hands back into the cell. “Call me Link.”

She blinks, stiffening as if taken aback, before relaxing and conceding, “All right. It was no problem, Link.”

“Can I ask you another question, Princess Zelda?”

She smiles, clasping her hands before her stomach. In the dim torchlight of the dungeon, shadows dance on her face and make her blue eyes gleam. “Sure.” 

“The Golden Power clearly has healing properties,” he wiggles his fingers just to be sure. “Why not use it to heal your eyes and see again?”

“It can’t heal injuries it’s imposed upon others, even if it’s myself,” she shakes her head. “And I wouldn’t want to, anyways. Not now.”

“Why not?”

She flexes her right hand and three golden triangles flicker on her knuckles, just for a moment. “I like myself this way.” 

The back of Link’s right hand itches, and behind him the Master Sword hums in its scabbard.

A door screeches open. 

“Princess Zelda!” Anton, the knight from before, calls from down the hall, out of Link’s sight, but his approaching footsteps echo off the walls. “We’ve brought the Hero’s medicine and some bandages-”

“It’s not needed, Anton,” Princess Zelda turns her head in the direction of the man’s voice, stepping back from the cell bars. “I’ve used the Goddess’s Light to heal him.”

Anton’s footsteps stop. “Oh.”

“Yes,” The Crown Princess of Hyrule smiles, but it looks different from the ones she shared with Link, less…real. “How is the selection of his bedroom coming along?”

“We’ve-We’ve decided on converting your father’s personal chamber into the Hero’s room. Your mother is overseeing the remodel herself.”

“Then I shall join her,” she lifts a hand toward Link in a short wave, walking towards the door. “I’ll be back to talk to you tomorrow, Link.”

“I’ll be here, Princess,” he says, watching her leave. When she’s gone, he flops onto his cot, accidentally kicking the candles and matchbox to the floor and laying on his back, forever grateful for the pillows he was brought as he stares up at the mundane stone ceiling and counts the cracks. The Master Sword stands watch by his head.

More footsteps, and Anton’s voice asks, “Sir Link?”

(Sir? He’s a Sir now?)   

He picks up his head, staring at the knight. “Yeah?”

“Um,” Anton fishes into his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys. “Princess Zelda told me to unlock your cell and give you a tour of the castle, but only if you want it. Do you? You’d, um, you’d have to leave the Master Sword behind.”

Link smiles.

(He thinks he likes the princess.)

“Sure,” he swings his legs off his cot and gets to his feet. “But only if you cut the ‘Sir’ crap.”

Anton blinks, his mouth dropping open. “Yes, sir.”