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Since he was a toddler, Link felt he had a guiding hand in his life. He wasn’t sure if it was the Goddesses. Or if it was Hylia. Or if it was some other deity that the world didn’t know of. But what he did know was that he’d always felt the presence of… something.
The first ever instance that he could remember, anyway, was when he was four. He wanted to steal one of his mother’s double chocolate chip cookies from the jar. He’d already had two and she’d stowed it away on the uppermost shelf so he couldn’t have anymore until after dinner.
But dinner was four hours away! So when she left, briefly, the voice instructed him to first push the chair into position by the edge of the table. Then clamber from that onto the table instead of lunging at the table top and flailing his legs uselessly because his arms weren’t strong enough to haul him up. And, to open the jar by trapping it between his thighs and tugging with all his might on the lid, with one hand always gripping the jar itself. Apparently it would be a bad idea if he only tugged at the lid. And so he cooperated as per the voice instructed, and succeeded in obtaining another cookie (... okay fine three).
Perhaps one could argue it was his rationality that shone through in that moment. Link didn’t think so. Rationality was not exactly his strong suit. He was one for just giving it his all, and ignoring the potential of things going wrong. Why worry about such things if you were going to do it anyway?
The voice mostly agreed. Emphasis on mostly.
It was especially helpful in his first years training with his father, and gave him countless little bits and pieces of advice. He clearly remembered the first time, aged 5, when his father had gifted him his first wooden sword and they had partaken in a duel of sorts. He had performed admirably well, until his father suddenly twisted out of the action and he was left confused- unaware of what would come next. And there the voice was, guiding him, when his father pulled a backhand strike, the voice instructed him to backflip, parry, and then land an upward strike of his own, thus ensuring his victory.
Over time, the voice gave less advice, as he grew more and more competent with the sword, learning the ins and outs of how to balance his weight against the sword’s own and how to use his opponent’s weaknesses to his advantage. Still, Link would never forget how key the voice had been in those formative years.
Outside of mischief and swordplay, the voice mostly remained quiet, popping up every now and then to give him general life advice. It was the one that encouraged him to go for the position of squire, aiming for Knight.
Another example - it had suggested, when he first reached Zora’s Domain, as a fumbling 6 year old, to seek a child called Bazz. He had, and they became the best of friends, under the watchful supervision of the seemingly elder at the time, Mipha.
Or indeed, when he was 11 and there was a training programme due to take place in Hebra, the voice had insisted he visit home before departing. Which turned out to be a smart decision as the trek was extended from the original 4 to 8 weeks, due to an unexpected surge in cold-footed wolves, which were terrorising the local Hylian villages.
The voice, all in all, had been a positive influence in Link’s life. By and large, he agreed with it.
There had only ever been one dispute with the voice…
When he was aged 12, just after the Hebra tour, there was meant to be a similar course in Eldin, to now train in fiery conditions instead of the biting cold. Of course, he had signed up.
On the return, they had camped outside the Great Hyrule Forest.
Link had been so desperate to go inside. He wanted to prove he wasn’t scared of the mist! All the other squires had braved the swirling clouds of white, howling in hysterics when they were thrown back out to the start.
And yet, as soon as he inched one step closer to the edge of the cloudy white, the voice ERUPTED in a cacophony. It had screamed at him not to go. It echoed and raged and fought in his skull, until Link felt sick to his stomach, and had to brew some cool safflina sleeping incense and down a red potion before the throbbing finally stopped.
He never dared venture close to the forest again, fearing what the voice would do if he so much as breathed in that direction.
Link often wondered what, exactly, had caused the voice such distress. It was the one incident that made him certain the voice wasn’t just instinct. How could instinct have resulted in that outburst? No. No, it was definitely something else.
And yet, after that ferocious calamity in his head, the voice had turned quiet. It hadn’t said much. To the point that Link sometimes questioned if it was even there anymore.
So, he was very surprised, to say the least, when it suddenly cropped up today of all days, at the Breach of Demise. It ordered him to follow the egg’s gaze and turn around, and he immediately complied- thus spotting the corrupted Guardian. He barely had enough time to parry, before the voice instructed him to run, with the Princess in tow.
There had been no time to explain, or justify what he was doing, so he simply grabbed her hand (which was much softer than his but he could still feel the ridges- from what, he questioned), and started to leg it from whatever had possessed the guardian.
The voice didn’t like the Guardian. Link could feel the voice bound inside his head as he faced up to it, cutting each of the legs, as the other functioning guardians took aim and fired. The voice, for the first time, since the forest, seemed to be uncomfortable. It made sense why, but it felt like it ran deeper than that.
Since then, the voice started to panic everytime the Princess slipped out of his sight. Which it hadn’t exactly concerned itself with up to this point. To be honest, Link felt much the same way, so he and voice agreed here. And yet, it didn’t make sense. Yes, she was the Princess of the family he had vowed to serve and give his life for, if required, but… He wasn’t exactly part of her royal guard. Or a knight in her service directly. Or you know, remotely qualified to even protect her. And yet, he and the voice both felt it necessary to be close to her. Just… just in case.
In case of what, he didn’t know. Maybe the voice did. But he’d learnt from the very start the voice was a one-way conversation. He could never reply to it.
He could only trust in it. Which is what he’d done his entire life, he wouldn’t start questioning it now. Didn’t stop him being curious though.
Soon, he’d be on the road again, the Princess had mentioned she wanted to go see Princess Mipha first, to appoint her as Champion of the Zora. It’d been years since he last visited the Domain. He wondered how everyone had fared in his absence. Ah he’d thought enough about it all already. Sleep was calling him, from all the fighting to the drama with the Princess (his heart fluttered a little at the fact that he’d held her hand!), going to the lab (the voice had surprisingly disappeared when the image was shown) and the presentation back to the King.
He was too tired to ponder over the voice anymore. Maybe, now that it was awake again, he’d find out more.
The voice egged him on, dropping new hints as he faced the final Rito who was stupidly refusing to go down like the others:
Don’t forget to check behind you. He’s a cocky bastard. He can shoot bomb arrows too.
Bomb arrows?? BOMB ARROWS?! No, seriously?! Link did not want to be singed! From the sky too! But… there was snow all around. He’d just… roll in it. Also, was it just him or did the voice seem like he knew this Rito? Then again, Link himself could tell from the frivolous twirls and loops through the air (useless) that perhaps he was somewhat cocky.
But then grey smoke blurred his vision, and he realised it really was bomb arrows.
This was not the time to be questioning anything! He twisted, just in time too, bringing up the shield right as three arrows swarmed towards him, causing the shield to breathe its last as it smashed to smithereens.
“STOP!”
The final arrow he parried with his sword flailed to the front, as the Rito finally set his claws back on Hylia’s blessed ground.
Cocky indeed.
He finally looked up to the voice he already knew was the Princess’s-
Oh. She looked cute. He liked the winter coat.
I agree.
Oh?
He felt the voice’s presence disappear. Twice now. Huh.
He turned his attention back to where it should be- the Princess. No, not because he wanted to look at her or anything!
DAMMIT. They hadn’t been expecting this Yiga Clan ambush. The voice didn’t know what was going on either- it didn’t seem all too familiar with Sooga. Which Link found strange, seeing as it knew the Guardians and the-Rito-who-shall-not-be-named well enough. Both the voice and he were panicking, twisting, turning trying to see where the bastard had gone, before the voice spotted a shadow to her left, and he sprinted, ramming the Egg off to the side, but not before he caught a glimpse of another set of blue eyes, much like his own, mirrored in the egg’s gaze, just next to him. He didn't have time to process anything, whamming the darts out of the way. At the end of it all, he was left questioning if he’d even seen anything.
And then he was distracted with the Princess, and the Egg, and he forgot the brief instance.
All he could think of was Zelda, all he could see was her death and doom, all he could picture was the end. The end of their little conversations by the fireside once everyone had gone to sleep and she stayed to pray, the end of the training he’d begun with her, with a simple bow and arrow that she’d once mastered as a child but had lost touch with due to her schedule, the end of all the laughter they’d shared, of the camaraderie they’d built, which was borderline pushing past that now.
He could only reach for her, knowing he was too far away to do a damn thing.
Turn around. I know everything hurts, you’ve probably got a fractured rib or two, and you don’t want to leave her, even just your eyes. But turn around.
Link flipped, staring at the glowing blade.
It’s yours. It’s finally the right time. Take it in her name. She’s the descendent of the one who forged it, you know.
His eyes flickered just beyond the timeless metal, and there was a younger him. Aged 12. Just about tall enough to reach the handle and pull.
Do it, Link. You’re her protector. Her eternal protector. Do it. We’re running out of time.
And so, rather disconcertingly, both him and the child version of himself that seemed pretty much identical, pulled.
He raised the sword skyward, and all of a sudden, a wealth of the memories flashed through him. The first Hero, with a red cape, another who carried an ocarina, one who shifted into a wolf, countless heroes all with a Princess, and it ended with himself, in a blue Champion’s Tunic that he’d never worn so- who- was- no- that- it couldn't be him?
And then the voice spoke. And the vision moved in sync.
Fight, Link. She’s not safe yet.
The voice was… a past hero? But- he- they looked the exact same?!
No time to question anything further, because the voice, no vision, no past Hero, whatever it was, whoever it was, it was correct.
His brow furrowed.
Astor had to pay.
Afterwards, after it had all calmed down and Zelda started to look at him differently because of the blade, the voice spoke once again.
Give her time. She’ll come around.
Did it know that because it had a similar situation with his Princess?
Why did they look the same?
The other Heroes didn’t look like they did?
So who was the voice?
No response. What else was there to do but trust in it once more?
Your questions will be answered in due course, Hero. For now, focus. Protect her. That's all that matters.
It’s too early, is what the voice kept on saying. For perhaps the seventh time.
Well, it’s here now, voice! The Calamity was going to arrive on Zelda’s birthday, just as the images foresaw. And here it was now, rampant and raging and they were running right into its maw.
That was the whole reason why he’d organised that party for Zelda, and how he’d ended up falling asleep in her arms that night as they tried to brace for what was surely coming. He’d finally told her about the voice that followed him since childhood. The voice was displeased that he’d brought up the cookie memory. She didn’t know what it could be either, other than a past Hero. But blue was a relatively new addition to Royalty colours. There had been no legends of a Hero in blue, it was always green. And certainly no records existed of a Hero in an exact replica of the tunic he had since been honoured with. She didn’t know specifics about what the Heroes looked like though, other than the colour of their clothing. (Were they all clones? From what? A Goddess-run, Hero-producing facility?)
It’s not time yet. Something’s wrong.
What was the voice going on about? What was it even comparing this too? Why, in the name of the Goddesses, did the voice not present itself at a more amenable time for questioning? It always had to crop up when he was in the middle of really difficult fights that he couldn’t ignore or he’d die.
Zelda had wanted to find her father, which made sense, but the corrupted guardians made storming the castle that much harder. How had this many monsters infiltrated in already?!
A beam broke out just above him, and he skidded on the greasy floor, the carpet already grimy.
He grabbed her hand, and continued to run, fear, anxiety and horror at the thought that she could get hurt and something could go wrong in such close quarters tormented him, even equipped and skilled as she was with the Sheikah Slate.
The voice continued it’s inner turmoil. Link wanted nothing more than for it to end. And yet, as the voice reminded him: it has barely begun.
Death had never stared Link in the face as it did the moment he had motioned to Impa to take her hand and run.
It had never looked him this close in the eye, before.
He had never felt heartbreak as he did now, knowing he was probably going to die, in the next few minutes.
The voice, in his time of need to direct him to attacks behind him, had very frustratingly disappeared.
Link didn’t allow himself to pay attention to her calls. It would break him if he did. He might be tempted to just abandon this wretched cursed land and follow her somewhere far, far away.
“Hero. It’s good to finally see you. And I know, it will be an honour to fight with you.”
Link stood stock still and stared. It was like looking into a mirror, they even blinked in sync. And yet, all he could think of was that the voice sure sounded strange out of his head.
And then Thunderblight Ganon screeched up to them, a mesh of green and red, and they turned back to attention, and took up attacking positions, with his identical-twin-past-Hero going back to back with him as the blights closed off in a circle around them.
Parry, backhand strike to the legs of Fireblight, ratcheting up his shield against Thunderblight, thus dislodging it, a simple jab, straight for Waterblight’s eye.
A flurry of metal upon metal rang out in the battlefield, as they worked in fluid cohesion, same reflexes, same brain, same sword arm, same fighting style. They acted as one, a fluid motion of action between them. If the past Hero parried the shield out of the way, he would take the opportunity and surge forward, whilst the voice covered his back.
Soon enough, surrounding soldiers pitched into the fight, and they started to make headway, each blight leaking more and more malice, with each progressive wound.
And then it suddenly ended, because his Princess, screaming his name, blasted all four of them back to the sacred realm.
And then everyone stared in shock at the twin he’d magically acquired during the fight.
He cleared his throat. “This is the Voice, Zelda.”
His twin slowly walked up to her, and he too quickly shuffled forward. The Past Hero knelt in front of her, “It’s always a pleasure to serve you, Your Highness.”
She looked flabbergasted.
And Link couldn’t deny feeling the exact same.
That evening, once the fire had calmed, the soldier’s healed, and everyone mostly asleep, even with all the questioning glances sent their way, Link, the past Hero (who still didn’t have a name other than the voice), and Zelda all converged into the small briefing camp they had set up.
Zelda left to get them “tea”. That was strategic, to give him some time to find out some more about this man who had more or less lived inside of him for 17 years.
“I imagine you have a lot of questions.”
“I’m sure you can guess most of them.”
He chuckled. “Well, to begin with, I’ll… briefly explain who I am. I’m… not exactly a past Hero. I’m from a parallel timeline to yours. This is why we look the exact same. Because… I am you. Just… in another world running side by side to yours.”
He didn’t understand. “Like the new champions?”
The not-past-Hero winced. “Right. Wait. There’s… a lot to explain. My name is also Link, but for now I guess, just call me past hero. It’s what we’re both used to at this point. To cut a very long story short, I lived the exact same life you have done, with a few key exceptions.”
He fisted his hands, “you remember the child you saw pulling the sword? That was me. My Zelda… my Zelda suffered a life harsher than the one yours has. Mine prayed for a decade, fruitlessly. It made her bitter. And you can imagine, when I showed up, destiny sorted with the sword, she hated me. Still, we worked through our differences. Much like you have with yours. Except… my Zelda was never given the opportunity to unlock her powers until… until the very last moment. So many of us, countless civilians, soldiers, the Champions, and I… had fallen, by the time it finally awoke. And with something so simple too- but- that’s not relevant to the main story. When my Zelda harnessed the triforce and made a wish, she wished for all of us to be safe, for all the harm to be reversed, and for the chance to protect what remained of our land and people. That wish awoke Terrako, although neither me nor her knew of that then.”
Link stared, not sure what to say. His story… it mirrored his own, and yet, everywhere they had succeeded, the voice and his Princess had sadly succumbed.
“I was put in a Shrine. That Shrine is essentially technology no one quite understands, because my spirit… my spirit was sent to you. From when you were a baby. In this entire new timeframe Zelda’s wish had generated, alongside Terrako, although he only appeared much later. Hence why the new Champions all know of you, why they say it is an honour to fight with you again, because they’ve already fought once with me, even if I technically… haven’t exactly done that yet.”
Link’s mind buzzed and fizzed, and he felt like all of what he’d come to understand about the world had been blown away. Who knew what could be out there. He literally had a twin in another world devastated by the Calamity.
“I endeavoured to protect you, Link. To foster in you what I wish I had. To guard you from the sword’s pull until it was absolutely necessary. To make sure you stood a chance, at understanding what the key was to unlocking Zelda’s powers. So that we could prevent the same mistakes from happening again.”
So his entire life was based on a wish from a Princess? All of their lives were? Just how powerful was that wish? “I… What can I even say? Thank you, Hero.”
A dark laugh escaped from him, “Something good had to come out of the tragedy. Fire away any questions, I’m happy to answer them now.”
“So how come you… are here… in bodily form now?”
“I must have healed, clearly. My time in the Shrine is nearly up. I will soon leave you, Link. We only have one final battle, now, don’t we?”
One final battle sure sounded good. He honestly felt out of his depth here. Fighting made sense. Loving Zelda made sense. This… this all felt beyond him. To finally know the voice was actually an iteration of himself?! The voice was essentially… hindsight? “Why… didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
“Would you have believed me? And it would have scared you. That’s part of why we failed. I… My Zelda, her father was too harsh. Too terrified of what the Calamity meant. And she was so alone… I’m sure you can understand why your Zelda’s powers awakened?”
Link blushed, at how the light had shone in the dark mess of red.
“Yes, well, mine was the same. But… I stupidly, very stupidly, never said anything to her before that. We… we barely held hands, before it all. We loved from afar, as was appropriate, and look at how it ended. I wanted things to be different for you. I wanted you to be less scarred, with the sword yours when you were able to handle it, and with a grounding relationship with your Princess before that.”
Suddenly, all the late night hints of what to say, what to do, what species of frog she liked, what flowers and herbs she needed for elixirs, which monster parts were her favourite, where was the ideal location for looking at stars and their constellations, what fruit she liked in her fruitcake…
Link couldn’t- he couldn’t- what did that mean his Zelda was the same as the voice’s? It must be if he was the same. And yet they were still so different, no doubt due to the actions of said voice. “What would have happened if you weren’t there?”
He tensed. “Good thing we don’t have to find out. Go, go find your Zelda. I can tell you want to.”
Link stilled. In awe of this man and all he had done, all the sacrifices he had made, and for him to try to fix all of that for Link himself. So he kneeled, hand on his heart. “Thank you, Hero. Truly, thank you. I hope you succeed when you return to your Era.”
A small chuckle, “No need for any of this, Link. Come now, promise me one thing, promise me you’ll remember us, Link. Remember what could have been, and what was prevented.”
Link could only nod, as he left to find Zelda and drag her back. The Past Hero was clearly troubled, and as much as he made out that he wanted Link to go be with Zelda, Link knew he would likely appreciate some company.
“No. No, I simply refuse. WHY is there another one? Why did he accumulate a clone?” At everyone’s collective sigh, Revali continued to protest, ramping up the volume, “WHY ARE THERE TWO OF THEM? WASN’T ONE ENOUGH?”
“Revali, please calm down.”
Link sighed. He knew, of all the Champions, Revali was the one who would have kicked up a fuss over the addition of the Past Hero.
“CALM DOWN?” The Rito made a wild gesturing movement between Link and the Past Hero, who both had the exact same deadpanned facial expression. “What an ASININE suggestion. Which one is the true Hero? What’s the point of the supposed all-powerful darkness-sealing-blade if it can be cloned? Which one of you is supposed to actually kill the Calamity? Clearly you’re both just lousy Knights that failed to do more but pull a sword from a rock. No actual talent in sight-”
“Revali.” The Princess’s voice was tight, “We have the greatest battle of our lives in front of us. Would you please, in the name of Hylia, cooperate?”
“No, as I said before, I refuse. Not until I get some answers!”
Urbosa stepped in, “It’s simple. The same way Teba came to help you in your time of need, the Past Hero came in for Link. Do not question the wisdom of things beyond your comprehension.”
Ah Urbosa. Always a voice of reason. They had decided to simply introduce the voice as another Hero. It wouldn’t do to explain all the intricacies of what had happened in a world running parallel to theirs.
Revali opened his beak to try to refute that again, probably, but Mipha stepped in, “Revali. Surely having another warrior is a good thing? And we should all be getting to our Divine Beasts. We must be ready.”
Revali frowned at them one last time before huffing and puffing his way out of the grounds and using his Gale to ricochet into the air.
“I guess some things never change.” Well, the Past Hero was surely correct there.
The Calamity, a horrendous morphed construction of malice and Astor, finally collapsed. Both Links huffed, both Master Swords drenched in malice.
It was finally the end.
Finally, after months of battles, monsters, rogue guardians and corrupted beasts, it was over.
The Past Hero was the last to leave, waiting until the new champions had left. He came up to Link, giving him a tight hug. “Promise you won’t let her go. She’s the best thing that’ll ever happen to us.”
“I promise. I promise to look after her.”
He had tears in his eyes as he left. “You are a worthy Hero, Link. It’s been my honour to safeguard you all of these years. Stay safe, Hero.”
“And you!”
Link slid next to Zelda and pulled her close as the voice finally left. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and hugged him with as much vigour.
The future, warm, real and bright, stretched out in front of them. He could only hope for the same in the world running parallel to theirs.
“Open your eyes”
“Open your eyes”
“Open your eyes”
“Wake up, Link”