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It was often said that a fearsome beast resided in the depths of Hyrule Castle.
The end of the war was abrupt and unexpected. There were no prior ceasefires or known peace talks. One day, the enemy troops simply left and the war was declared over with no further explanation. Well, there were official statements explaining that the enemy retreated due to discord in their homelands. Most people didn’t buy that excuse.
Some claimed to have seen a massive crate being pulled into the castle, some said they heard monstrous noises coming from within. No one could agree on what it was or what it had to do with the war’s end. Seven months had passed since then, and there were still rumors although they were mostly regulated to tavern talks nowadays.
As far as Rowan was concerned, it was none of his business. He didn’t believe in the rumors anyway, and he was happy to have people’s lives going back to normal. Or at least as normal as they could be.
When he rounded the corner with his arms full of freshly picked apples, he was surprised to see two soldiers waiting by his bakery’s door. It wasn't unusual for soldiers to swing by for a pastry on occasion, but there were plenty of bakeries closer to the castle. Surely they would have gone to a nearby one instead of waiting for him to return.
Something wasn't right.
“Uh, hello,” Rowan said as he approached the bakery and soldiers, “can I help you?”
Worried thoughts began to flood his mind. Did he forget to pay his property taxes? Did someone break into his bakery and home? Was his family okay?
The soldiers’ relaxed stances and calm expressions said otherwise. They turned to look at him and the taller of the two took a step forward with a piece of parchment in hand.
“We’re here to deliver a letter,” the soldier informed him and started to hand it over, but then stopped when she saw Rowan’s full arms.
Why a letter delivery needed two guards, he didn’t know.
“Oh!” He exclaimed and fumbled trying to get his keys out of his pocket without dropping the apples. “Give me one second.”
The shorter soldier offered to hold one of the apple bags for him, Rowan gladly released the apples so he could unlock the bakery. Once the lock clicked, he opened the door and beckoned the soldiers inside. He set the apples on the counter to sort through later.
Rowan grabbed the offered letter and admired the intricate wax seal before carefully tearing it open. To his surprise, the letter was rather short. The penmanship was neat and he found himself admiring it rather than processing the words, so he started over at the top.
(Letter format)“Mister Rowan Hawthorne, It has come to our attention you possess certain baking skills of which we are in need. This is a delicate matter which cannot be further discussed in a letter. You are formally invited to the castle grounds, your time will be aptly compensated. Please inform the provided guards of your decision, they will escort you should you accept. Best regards, Gen. Impa. P.S. If you elect to come, please bring an assortment of custard tarts.”(end letter format)
He looked at the letter, then to the soldiers, and back to the letter. Surely there were bakers with far more demand than him employed at the castle. And was that General Impa? He could not fathom why she specifically wanted to talk to him. Maybe she was really into custard tarts.
Despite not being in trouble, he was nervous. Sure, he had nobles visit his bakery from time to time. Being surrounded by the higher class, in the castle no less, wasn’t something he could say he did often. Admittingly, curiosity was getting the best of him, he wanted to know why his services were being called upon.
“I’ll go with you, but I need to clean up first,” Rowan said at last and the soldiers perked up. “Feel free to make yourselves comfortable and have some pastries from that rack.”
“Told you so!” One of the soldiers exclaimed, then sheepishly looked at Rowan, “We took this job hoping we’d get dessert out of it.”
Rowan laughed wholeheartedly and opened the case covering the end of day pastries. He couldn’t help but notice how young the soldiers appeared, did they really fight in the war? Normally he saved his pastries and breads to donate to the local food banks after he was closed, but he didn’t mind the soldiers indulging in a little treat.
He carried his apples to the back and set them in the icebox for later. Thankfully, he cleaned up his workspace before he set out to restock his apple supply. All that was left was tallying up his rupees, which didn't take quite as long as it normally did since he had closed early today. Once he completed that task and placed the rupees in a lockbox, he hurried upstairs to his room.
Most of his clothes were quite presentable in his humble opinion, although a few were singed and tattered on the sleeves. None of them were what he would consider fancy by any means. He supposed anything with no visible tears or stains would suffice. Rowan tossed his work clothes on a chair to clean later, then he slipped on a cream sweater with burgundy accents.
Once he was certain there were no visible flour or other mystery stains on his clothes, he hurried back downstairs. The soldiers smiled when they saw him approach, though they said nothing due to their mouths being full of cherry pastries. Rowan smiled back and started to bag up the leftover sweets and loaves of bread while putting any extra custard tarts in a separate bag. There was a larger surplus than normal, and carrying the bags proved to be difficult.
“I just need to drop these off a few blocks down, if that’s alright,” Rowan said while grabbing the last bag.
“Faro’s food bank, right?” the shorter soldier asked while grabbing one of the bags from Rowan’s arms.
“That’s the one,” he confirmed with a light nod. He was a bit surprised the soldier knew exactly where he was going to donate the food, but he supposed it was part of their jobs to know the various businesses and shops in the city.
The other soldier opened the door for them and they walked down the road at a comfortable pace. It didn’t take long to arrive at their first destination. An older man with a mostly-white beard opened the door for them, Rowan hurried inside and set the food on the counter.
“Thank you,” the man, Faro, said while giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder. “Ah, Lerane! Haven’t seen you around in ages, I was starting to worry.”
“Right, well, I’ve been a bit busy,” the shorter soldier, Lerane, replied sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck, “plus I didn’t think I should come here anymore.”
“Nonsense! Company is always welcome here.”
“If you say so,” Lerane said with a laugh, “I’ll try to visit more often. I’m on the clock right now so maybe another time.”
“Right, of course, of course. Get on out of here before they dock your pay,” Faro chuckled then smiled at Rowan. “Thank you again, as always.”
Rowan smiled back and nodded. Dropping off food was nearly a daily activity for him, save for days when he had no surplus. He often stayed to chat for a bit, but in all those times he never once heard Faro mention having relatives around. Then he realized Lerane must have needed to come here before enlisting in order to eat.
There was a strange feeling knowing he once helped provide food for the young man walking beside him. A good feeling. It was a nice reminder that even when he felt he couldn’t do enough, the small things added up and did matter after all.
He was so caught up in his thoughts that he forgot he was going to the castle. The massive gate separating the city from the castle grounds stood imposingly over him. Rowan hesitated at the raised portcullis, but his escorts continued on and motioned for him to follow. He’d never been on this side of the wall before, so he found himself looking around.
The walkway was bordered with precisely-trimmed hedges and white rose bushes. An elegant fountain rested in the middle, and there were several people with lavish clothes standing next to it. Rowan suddenly felt rather underdressed, but he supposed there wasn’t much he could do about it. He found himself walking closer to the soldiers, at least they weren’t out of place here.
As they approached the castle doors, the soldiers guarding it stepped aside. Rowan let his eyes wander, there was almost too much to take in. An ornate purple and red rug ran along the length of the corridor, the stone brick walls were covered with lavish tapestries and enormous oil paintings. Marble sculptures on top of walnut pedestals were evenly spaced in between the windows. The lighting seemed a bit off until he realized it was magic and not flames keeping the lanterns lit. His nerves started to get the better of him, but at least they weren’t walking towards the throne room. He likely would have panicked if he had to talk to the Queen.
Instead, he was led down a corridor and into a small waiting room. It wasn't nearly as impressive as the castle entrance, but it still wasn't anything to scoff at. He sat down on a red couch and a servant approached him with a plate and glass in hand. His stomach couldn’t handle any sort of wine or snack at the moment.
“No, thank you,” he declined politely and kept his hands in his lap.
Minutes passed by painfully slowly. The guards chatted quietly among themselves, leaving Rowan alone with his thoughts. When the door opened, Rowan made sure to sit straight. A woman entered and smiled lightly at him when she approached.
“Hello, you must be Mr. Hawthorne. I hope you found your place here well,” she said and sat in a chair opposite him.
“Just Rowan is fine, thank you,” he said while fiddling with his thumbs. “The guards were very helpful.”
“I’m glad to hear it. In that case, you can just call me Impa.”
Oh. This was the General. He suddenly felt small and he briefly worried about being too informal. Her calm demeanor helped assure him that wasn’t the case. Rowan nodded with a nervous smile and waited for her to resume.
“There is no easy way to explain why I summoned you here, so let’s skip past the pleasantries and small talk,” Impa said steadily after taking a sip of her wine. “At the end of the war, we were entrusted with the care of a rare creature as a sort of peace offering. We have done the best we can, but we are far out of our depths here. I fear if we don’t act soon, he will perish.”
Well, that certainly was a lot to take in all at once. A beast? The rumors were true after all, although he wasn’t sure why this information was being relayed to him.
“With all due respect, I don’t know much about animal care. I’m sure there are people more qualified than me,” he said in confusion. He was a baker, not some sort of beast wrangler or fighter.
“I know, that’s not why I brought you here. A few months ago, one of our guards purchased one of your pastries and accidentally dropped it in the enclosure. That was the first and only time the creature ate while in our care, we offered him more after that but he refused. My theory is he won’t eat anything given to him by castle staff. You don’t smell like the castle, so my hope is he’ll eat if you offer him food.”
Rowan suddenly understood why he was here. This was desperation. The thought of some poor creature slowly starving was unsettling, he had to help.
“I’ll do whatever I can,” he said while grabbing his bag of custard tarts.
“Excellent. Follow me.”
Rowan trailed after her as she led them down a dimly lit stairwell. She unlocked a thick wooden door at the bottom and they resumed their trek through a long corridor. They weren’t in the dungeons, that much was certain. The alcoves along the walls looked oddly like stables and livestock pens. That’s exactly what they were, he realized, likely used to store animals during sieges. It was silent now, there hadn’t been a need for the pens in decades, maybe even centuries.
“His pen is straight ahead and to the left,” Impa informed him when she stopped walking.
“You mean you want me to go alone?” He asked and furrowed his brow.
“Yes, he doesn’t like me. He hasn’t shown any aggression, so you’ll be safe. Still, I’ll remain right here just in case.”
Rowan nodded but didn’t reply. He had to be brave. With a brief huff, he trod carefully over to the pen with his custard tarts in hand. The pen looked like it was newly remodeled compared to the rest of the corridor, reinforced bars were built all the way up to the ceiling to keep whatever lived inside from escaping. He would have to trust Impa’s word that the beast would not harm him.
When he peered into the pen, he was stunned by what he saw. Laying on a pile of straw was a dragon. He didn’t know what sort of creature to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. They were extinct in Hyrule and said to reside in the most remote of places in far-off lands, and yet, here was one before him. The dragon’s dark red scales were dull, and the black spikes jutting out of his head lacked shine. Of course, he didn’t know anything about dragons, but even he could tell it looked sickly.
The pen was fairly large, he imagined its intended purpose was to house cattle in times past. There were lumps of old and rotting meat in a corner, and the straw was visibly soiled. While the dragon had not shown signs of aggression, it was clear the guards were too afraid to go inside to clean the poor thing’s pen.
“Uh, hello,” Rowan called out to the slumbering dragon, “I brought you food.”
Could dragons understand Hylian speech? Were they fully sapient or were they more like other animals? He didn’t know. In hindsight, he probably should have asked more questions but it was too late for that now. The dragon opened its startling blue eyes and looked at him, though it stayed in its curled position. Rowan grabbed one of the custard tarts and stuck it through the bars.
“See? I handmake these back home,” he said while waving the pastry a bit. “This one is a bit old, but if you like it, I can make you more!”
That seemed to pique the dragon’s interest. With visibly strained effort, the dragon stood and slowly trudged toward him. It took every last bit of restraint to not jump back and run when the dragon approached him. The dragon flicked his tongue at him and stared before opening his mouth to gently grab the pastry. With one quick gulp, the tart was consumed. The dragon looked at him expectantly, and there was a strange intelligence in his eyes. Rowan elected to treat the dragon like he would any other person, he chuckled and grabbed another tart.
“There’s plenty more where that came from, friend,” Rowan said and offered the pastry. He could have sworn the dragon perked up upon hearing ‘friend’, but it might have been his imagination. Once all of the pastries were eaten, Rowan was satisfied with his work. “That’s all I have, I’m afraid. Maybe I’ll be able to come back to bring you some more.”
He started to walk away but stopped when the dragon made one of the most pitiful noises he had ever heard. The dragon’s snout was resting on one of the bars, and his large eye was trained on him. Rowan smiled apologetically and turned around for a moment.
“You’re right, that was rude of me,” Rowan lamented, ignoring the fact he was talking to a dragon. “I can’t stay, so I’ll be leaving now, okay? My name’s Rowan by the way. I wish there was a way for you to tell me yours.”
The dragon seemed satisfied with the goodbye this time, he huffed and returned to his straw bed. Rowan walked back to Impa, she seemed rather pleased.
“I can’t believe he finally ate,” she said while leading him back up the stairs, “I worry still that he’ll refuse food from anyone else. If it would be no trouble, I would like to offer you a more permanent position here.”
“You mean leaving my bakery?” he asked with a frown. He was glad he could help the dragon, but he didn’t want to abandon his livelihood.
“Not exactly. I mean to offer you a paid title that would grant you access to castle grounds without a guard or invitation. All I would expect is for you to visit once or twice a week to feed him. Nothing more.”
That was far more reasonable. Remembering the sad state in how the dragon was living made it hard to refuse.
“I’ll do it,” Rowan agreed with a nod.
“I’m glad,” Impa said with a smile. “Welcome to the team, Dragonmaster Hawthorne.”
Getting used to walking in the castle took some time. Rowan got to know a fair amount of castle staff, and they were always more than willing to show him around. It had been just shy of two months since he was hired for this position, and the dragon was already showing signs of improvement. He was far more active and there was a brighter sheen to his horns and scales.
Today, Rowan had plans aside from offering a simple meal. He carefully walked down the stairs and made sure nothing fell out of his arms. The dragon, Crow as he had nicknamed him due to some of the noises he made, was waiting for him with his snout resting on the bars. Crow’s slit eyes widened upon his approach.
“Hi, did you miss me?” Rowan asked and Crow chuffed in response.
Rowan peeked into the pen, he frowned upon seeing the dirty state. The meat piles were still in the corners and the straw bed was frankly quite disgusting. He knew why the guards were apprehensive to go in to clean it up, he didn’t blame them for not wanting to deal with a dragon. Still, it pained him to know Crow had been living like this for almost a year now. Today, Rowan was going to put his trust in his charge and turn the place into a whole new pen.
“Alright, I’m going to come in and clean your pen, is that okay?” Rowan asked and nervously set the key in the lock to the smaller door. Crow had been delightful to work with so far, he never once snapped or growled. That didn’t change the fact he was a dragon the size of a draft horse, and could easily overpower him.
Crow backed away from the bars and sat down like he could tell Rowan was worried. Rowan unlocked the door and stepped inside for the first time, he lingered by the door for a moment, just in case. Once he was certain Crow had no interest in turning on him, he went to work cleaning the pen.
The meat and bathroom corners were the first thing he tackled, it was disgusting work but it had to be done. Once that was taken care of, he threw out the old straw and painstakingly scrubbed the floor clean. It took longer than he hoped, but the end result was worth it. He left the pen and dragged in a large pile of blankets he managed to amass over the past few weeks and set them along the wall.
“There, that should be more comfortable, what do you think?”
Crow bounded over to the blanket pile and rolled into it, the sight warmed Rowan’s heart. While Crow was busy nestling into his new bed, Rowan brought in a heavy leather ball and a large pumpkin. Crow raised his head and leaped towards him, Rowan reflexively held his hands in front of his face, but to his delight, the dragon merely rubbed his face against his shoulder. Rowan took a breath and patted Crow’s head right between the horns. There was a deep rumble coming from the dragon that Rowan could only describe as purring.
“I didn’t know you liked pets,” Rowan mused aloud while scratching Crow under his chin. “Alright, I need to go back and clean up the bakery.”
Rowan started to make his way for the door, but Crow leaped in front of it and sat down. He was too stunned to react or say anything at first. There was no way out and he could have sworn Crow was smug about that fact.
“Come on now, I can't make you more food if the bakery is a mess,” Rowan pleaded but his dragon was undeterred. “Tell you what, let me go and I'll visit on my day off tomorrow.”
That seemed to do the trick. Crow stood and moved aside, though he kept his head low and grumbled like he was disappointed with the outcome.
“Settle down, I’ll make you your favorite custard tarts. Why don’t you play with your pumpkin?” Rowan said as he locked the door, Crow huffed at him incredulously. “Are dragons too dignified for playing?”
As if to prove him wrong, Crow pounced on the pumpkin and tore his fangs into it. He trotted around and threw the pumpkin in the air a few times, only to expertly catch it before it could fall to the ground. Rowan smiled at the display, but was soon overcome with sadness. It made sense to have Crow locked in the pen when he first arrived and while he was recovering from his illness. But now that he was recovered and fairly active, it seemed wrong to keep him here like this.
He supposed there was nothing he could do.
In the weeks that followed, Rowan found himself visiting way more than his original two times a week. After closing and cleaning his bakery, he often spent his time with Crow. He would sit with him and talk about his day while petting Crow’s scales. Sometimes he would bring in a pumpkin or some other toy for him to destroy.
There was a time when Rowan came in with a bandage wrapped around his arm, he had accidentally cut himself while making dinner one night. He remembered how Crow hissed and snarled in the pen, he even went so far as to bite the bars. Rowan assumed at first something was wrong with the dragon, but he realized Crow was upset over the wound. Crow would not settle down until Rowan promised he was okay. After he stopped snarling, Rowan entered the pen and Crow stayed wrapped around him and kept a wing splayed protectively over him.
It was eerily human.
Something about today felt off. Rowan walked down the stairs as usual with a plate of roasted chicken in hand. Normally Crow would have his snout resting on the bars in anticipation, though today he was absent. Maybe he was sleeping. As Rowan stood in front of the pen, his heart sank. Crow wasn’t there. He wasn’t informed of any changes pertaining to his dragon duties, and he couldn’t see how his dragon would have miraculously gotten out.
“Rowan!” A strange voice called out and sent a shiver down his spine, Rowan saw a Hylian pop up in the corner of the cell and the stranger ran to the bars.
Rowan stepped back and stared at him. His confusion gave way to anger. Had his dragon been taken away from him without notice?
“Where is Crow?” Rowan demanded, he wished he came off as more serious rather than the obvious desperation that laced his tone.
“I am Crow,” the Hylian offered with a sheepish smile. “Well, my name is Link. But you can call me Crow if you want.”
Rowan stared at him in disbelief. The door was locked, and there was no way someone could have easily slipped a dragon out. Upon closer inspection, Link had a smattering of red scales along his shoulders, and there were a pair of dark horns poking from his tousled blond hair. He wasn’t wearing any clothes either, he had one of the blankets from the pile wrapped around himself. Most notably, his gentle blue eyes were the same as Crow’s. There were so many questions and not enough answers.
“I patted your tummy,” Rowan said dumbly instead of asking any sort of clarifying question.
“Yeah, you did,” Link said with a light laugh. “I enjoyed it, really. I’m sorry I couldn’t reveal myself sooner. I was too weak, and a bit afraid, too.”
”You’ve been a person this whole time?” Rowan asked to clarify. He was still dumbstruck over the revelation.
“Yes, I have been. I appreciate you for treating me like one,” Link said and his smile dropped. He pinned his ears back and gripped the bars, Rowan hated to see him looking so sad. “I trust you. Please get me out of here.”
Rowan didn’t know what to do at first. It was clear Crow— no, Link couldn’t stay here anymore. It wouldn’t be right. He would have to sneak his friend out and hide him somewhere, he could say the dragon busted out. Was this treason? He had no idea and that didn’t matter right now.
“Wait here, I need to find you some clothes,” Rowan said and he started to hurry away.
“Don’t worry,” Link called after him, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Rowan looked in one of the spare servant quarters closets and found an assembly of clothes. There were slippers, pants, tunics, and hoods of varying lengths. None of them particularly matched that well, so he grabbed whatever he thought would fit. When he returned to the pen, Link was waiting for him with his head resting against the bars.
He unlocked the door and handed Link the new clothes, he turned around to offer the man some privacy. A few minutes later, he felt a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump.
“Sorry,” Link apologized and quickly drew back his hand, “got too used to doing that stuff as a dragon. It won’t happen again.”
Rowan turned to face him. Admittedly, it was a strange situation. Link had gotten to know him over the course of several months, he listened to Rowan talk for hours and often acted like a chair for him. Rowan knew Crow the dragon, he did not know Link the Hylian. He found that he wanted to know him.
“It’s alright, I’m just a bit jumpy,” Rowan explained with a light chuckle and he extended his hand. “Come on, we’re not out of the castle yet.”
Link grabbed his hand and Rowan dutifully led him up the stairs. Rowan opened the door carefully and made sure the coast was clear before leading his friend out into the corridor. Leaving the castle was surprisingly easy, no one questioned him as marched out with Link in tow. He didn’t allow himself to calm down until they were beyond the portcullis. Once they were well away from the castle walls, Rowan brought them to a park.
“Okay, we’re free,” Rowan said after catching his breath, he realized he was holding Link’s hand still but he didn’t want to let go yet. “Now what do we do?”
He half expected Link to ask him to escort him out of the city, so he could run as far away as possible. A selfish part of him didn’t want to say goodbye to Link, but he would not be the one to stop him. He would do whatever Link wanted, he wanted him to be free and happy.
“There is something I’ve wanted since we met,” Link said and gave his hand a gentle squeeze like he could sense his anxiety. “Will you show me where you make those custard tarts?”
The words did not process right away. When they finally did, Rowan let out a laugh.
“I would be honored to show you my bakery,” he said and Link smiled at him.
Still hand in hand, Rowan guided Link towards his bakery. Towards his home. There was still much to resolve, and many questions to ask. But that could all come in due time. For now, he would show Link how he made his pastries. That was something he could manage.