Work Text:
Darkness enveloped him. Turning and twisting his head every which way, Link could see nothing in any direction.
The child reached out a hand, distantly curious. Could he see himself? He sometimes couldn’t, when it was night and he was underneath the dark canopy of the forest. It was always nice when that was not the case. When the moon was out and the fire was lit. Little critters and the occasional fairy might join him in those moments, humming along with his song.
Unlike the dark forests, however, he could see himself quite clearly in this void. He was pretty sure his eyes were playing a funny trick on him, ‘cause he seemed to be glowing a little bit, too.
Link lowered his hands and looked at his bare legs and brown boots. They were also lit up. It looked quite strange against the black floor, indistinguishable from everything else.
Frowning, Link looked up. This place was so strange. The soon-to-be-ten-year old was lost more often than not, but this was extreme, even for him.
He didn’t like it. There were no stars here. No chirps of a friendly critter, or plants he could munch on, or caves offering shelter.
There weren’t even monsters threatening to eat him.
Part of him considered calling out. It had been so long since he spoke. He doubted that his voice would even work. In the past few years, he hardly uttered a word in his mother tongue, much less Hyrulian.
Link plopped down on the not-floor. He ran his hands on the invisible barrier. It didn’t feel like anything; he just couldn’t move any farther down.
His eyes caught on the back of his left hand. There was a strange symbol on it. He froze in shock.
The symbol shimmered as he brought his hand up to study it. Three triangles stacked on top of each other, forming a bigger triangle. It seemed familiar, natural. Scrunching his eyes, he stared at the marking, trying to place where he might have seen it before. Turning up nothing, he let it slip out of his mind.
And he was still glowing. Just to top it off.
Link leaned his head on his hands, elbows against his knees. He huffed, the sound of his own breath surprising himself.
He sat like that for what felt like hours.
This is a dream, isn’t it? He thought. It wasn’t often he had them, and certainly none like this. A true nightmare.
He knew fear. Worry that he wouldn’t be able to find enough food or shelter in a storm. The heart-pumping adrenaline of outrunning a monster. The momentum of his journey, always moving forwards, looking for something worth chasing.
The search for a purpose, a friend, a destiny.
Right now, he had nothing but the clothes on his back.
He continued to run his hands against the not-ground. His finger bumped against something.
A golden flower bud slowly emerged from the contact between his left hand and the floor.
More plants–grass, flowers, small trees–slowly spread out from the golden flower. Link giggled, gleefully running his hands through the greenery. The sky was still dark, but that no longer mattered. There was life here.
The bud grew bigger and bigger and bigger. Its stem swelled to the size of a tree stump, and the closed-up petals were taller than Link. He slowly stood up as the plant rose into the air, soon towering over his head.
The top of the bud curled inwards; little flowers grew out of the small twist. Golden pollen rained down from the tiny petals to the larger ones. Link instinctively covered his nose as the sparkling, powdery substance enveloped the giant flower.
As the pollen continued to fall, the beauty of the sight distracted Link. He lowered his hand, and before he could move it back, the scent of the pollen transfixed him.
Dew on the grass, a departing storm, sunflowers and apple trees and a calm breeze at sunset…
He took a few steps towards the massive bud, only managing to grab hold of his curiosity for a moment when he was an arm’s reach away from the bud. Carefully, his arm extended to touch the golden underside of its petals.
The light emerging from him met the flower’s shine. Just as he reached to make contact, he hesitated.
No, no, I can’t. Taking a step back, he gazed upward at the falling pollen. Still filling the void with that divine smell.
How could a nobody like him dare to touch something so beautiful, so holy? He was no knight, nor prince, nor priest. He owned nothing but what he could carry. His family and friends, along with the rest of Calatia, were years behind him.
He couldn’t even remember the last time he told someone his name.
But… maybe, he could now. He could show at least one person—even if it was only himself—that he was capable of leaving a mark on the world. He was worthy of seeking.
Link gently trailed his fingers along the golden underside of the bud. It was as soft as silk while being firm like tree bark. The light surrounding Link and the flower intensified where they connected.
A sudden breeze flew through Link’s hair. The part of him that always admired the night sky and basked in the glow of fairies understood what it was trying to say. He retreated, eyes flickering to the top of the flower bud.
With one final burst of pollen, the massive petals slowly fell to the ground as the flower bloomed at last. The interior of the pointed petals were a bright yellow-ish green with stripes of gold. There were layers and layers and layers of them. For a moment, Link thought they would never stop falling. The bud had been massive, but he was simply incapable of imagining a flower this magnificent before seeing it.
The blossoming continued, until finally, the petals gave way to reveal the center. Link had to stand on his tippy-toes to see it properly.
There was a small divot that seemed to contain a swampy pond. Lily-pads and flowers dotted its surface. One large lily-pad carried a seated woman.
Her dress seemed to be made from many of the flower’s petals woven into a single garment. It was torn or stained in areas, but it remained beautiful nonetheless. The woman’s pale skin highlighted the wounds inflicted on her face and limbs. Her emerald eyes were troubled. Locks of green hair threatened to fall out of her twin buns and join the loose strands and long bangs that fell into the pond below.
Link’s jaw dropped at the sight of her, and he immediately stood up straighter.
The woman let out a relieved smile at the sight of him, placing one hand over her heart. The two of them stared at each other for a moment longer. She gave a shaky exhale, and held out her other hand.
Link stiffened, and pointed at himself. The woman nodded.
He slowly walked onto the flower petals. They seemed to grow even larger as he got closer to the center, as if they were massive leaves strewn across the forest floor, all in one direction. He stopped once he made it to the small pond.
His eyes jumped between the petals’ edge and the woman on her lily-pad. She followed his gaze, and her mouth made a small ‘oh’.
She tapped the side of her seat, and it glided across the pond to meet Link.
Now that she was in front of him, he noticed that she was quite tall, though not inhumanly so. Since she was seated on her lily-pad while he stood on the petal, he was a little more than a head above her. He wasn’t sure if he should sit down or not.
The woman did not seem to care. She smiled up at him gently, letting out a soft, “Hello, my child.”
Link waved, feeling younger than he had in a long time. He had no clue what to say, what to ask. For some reason, his first coherent thought was, Is she my mother?
His memory of his mother was faint. From what he could recall, she did not resemble the woman in front of him in the slightest, but the thought felt more natural than it should have.
The woman blinked at him, her mouth parting. She chuckled. “I do not believe I have ever earned the right to that title, but I consider you mine.” Her voice was soft and melancholic, in a way Link suspected was for him alone.
Link cocked his head at her. Can you…?
Nodding, the woman replied, “The lines between the three of us are blurry.” She hummed. “Sometimes I wonder if they are even there anymore.”
Link pursed his lips. He was at a loss on what they were even talking about. I think you might have the wrong person.
She laughed. It sounded like the excited chirps of a young bird or the playful barks of a dog. “In some ways, I always do, when it comes to you.” The laughter trailed off. “But, at the core of it, you rarely change.”
This conversation felt too heavy for Link to continue standing. On the surface, he understood not a single word that came out of this being’s mouth, but the sentiment brushed the back of his mind. Her words summoned tears from behind his eyes that he desperately tried to banish.
The strange, lily-pad woman wiped her eyes. “I am glad to see you,” she said. “Even in these dire circumstances.”
Her eyes gazed upwards. The darkness above them was unchanging to his eyes.
Those green irises flickered back to Link’s, having seen something he could not. “Please, whatever you do, wherever your journey leads you,” her voice quieted to a whisper. “Take care.”
With those words, the forces building up inside Link reached a tipping point. A buzzing filled his brain, and for a moment, it was as if he was seeing out of someone else’s eyes dozens–nay, hundreds–of times over. It was so, so much.
Unbeknownst to him, the golden symbol began to fade.
She let out another shaky exhale, and once again held out her left hand. “May Power strengthen your spirit, and may Wisdom lead you onwards.”
The tsunami of emotions and instincts and memory that had been welling inside Link finally rose above the surface. He knew, and he wasn’t ready. This woman–who he hated, loved, and revered in equal measure at times–was about to let him go into the world for the first time, for the millionth time. It had been so long. It would be decades more until this happened again.
He ignored her outstretched hand, throwing himself into her lap. She froze for a moment before curling around him. Her attempt to protect him was futile, and they both knew it. Long fingers brushed his hair, just beneath the brim of his hat.
Both the Goddess and the Hero’s Spirit cried for the few seconds they could.
Farore took Link’s head in her hands. She gently kissed his forehead before leaning back to look at him. He took her hands off of his face and held them in their shared lap space.
Happy birthday, Link.
A shocked laugh escaped him.
She gave him one last fond look.
Taking a deep breath, she finished, “May you, one day, find truth in Courage.”
The next morning, Link woke up with tears in his eyes. He stared at the early morning sky, trying to remember the wonderful dream he was ripped away from. The attempt was futile.
A few hours later, when the sun was well into its daily journey, he saw an elderly woman across the path, calling for help.