Chapter Text
Late in the evening, King Rhoam was flicking through a number of documents pertaining to details of physicals taken by the soldiers and royal guards of the palace. Most were ordinary, some impressive thanks to diverse strength lineages, but something piqued his interest.
Lineages.
They had so many shifter types in the castle, but they only ever took physicals in human form. Notably, they had their werewolf shifters, they had Arn who shifted into a bat at will, they had a guard who shifted into an aquatic creature, some flew, but most of their diverse guards weren’t shifters.
“What do you think would happen if they took physicals in their magical forms?” Rhoam inquired with his wife.
The queen was busy removing the many gemstones from her wings. So many little gems, chains, ornaments, this process of hers took so long every evening but she took pride in her appearance. “I’m sure I wouldn’t expect a bat to do much in a physical.” She giggled in the mirror.
Captain Arn as a human had extraordinary strength even before he’d acquired vampirism in death, but post-revival, he was much stronger and he acquired a number of magical abilities, but as a bat… he was pitiful. At least he was cute, though the queen would of course never say so to such an esteemed member of the Royal Guard. They were supposed to be fierce, not adorable. How were they supposed to intimidate would-be assassins and nosy nobles if they were the size of a fluffy teacup?
“And the wolves?” he added.
She turned to face him with a thoughtful gaze. “I’m sure there’s ways to take physicals for them.”
Rhoam laughed. None of their werewolves had ceased growing, even if one of them was approaching the age of 55. You’d think they stopped growing eventually. His wife’s guard was becoming comparable to a horse. His offspring weren’t far behind either, and the other werewolf was just a bit bigger than his daughter’s companion.
“Do you think we can find them a physician?” He asked. Werewolves were common enough, but it was such a broad term encompassing three classifications, he had to be more specific.
The four werewolves in the castle fit into two of the three categories: there were born wolf-shifters who transformed at will, born werewolves who couldn’t shift without the help of the moon, and those who’d acquired lycanthropy one way or another. The werewolves they employed belonged to the first two categories, as the viral variant of lycanthropy was not well understood in addition to being much rarer—even rarer than born shifters. Impa theorized that the viral version was actually more akin to vampirism. Cassandra wasn’t opposed to the idea of hiring someone with the viral version, but Rhoam had reservations. He worried what might happen if someone lost control during a full moon.
“I’m sure I can find someone to do the physicals.” His wife cackled to herself, bringing him back to the present. “I can’t wait to see the reactions.” She continued to cackle to herself as if she’d started formulating an evil plan.
He almost felt bad for the poor captain who was bound to get her fury first hand.
“Has your guard angered you recently?” He hesitated to ask. They were always together, he was always lurking around, but he hadn’t yet heard of an injustice.
“Not at all.” she smiled innocently.
Oh so this is you starting something again. Better I not get involved.
Seeing an empty schedule couldn’t mean too many things. A day off maybe, a physical but that was the other day, his birthday but that had passed already.
But the fact he’d smelled his sister Lena this morning near the front gate was jarring to say the least. He hadn’t seen her, but her presence at the castle was new. The castle was his territory, no one encroached on that. Unspoken wolf rules: family had to announce they were going to be stepping into someone else’s territory, even if that person was his own litter-sister. Sure, technically the castle belonged to the royal family but werewolves had been the unspoken guardians of the land for centuries. They had ancient traditions and laws that were older than some noble houses.
So why the fuck was Lena at the castle and why hadn't he been told beforehand?
Only one person he could ask.
Captain Fredrick found his charge sitting in her tea parlour, seated in front of the only window in the room. Her wings were tense even if the rest of her was relaxed. You’re hiding something. No, guarding something was more accurate. But what?
“Why’s my schedule empty today?” He asked cautiously. He looked around the room for any bad surprises that could wait for him, but it was one of her run-of-the-mill tea parlours. He heard steps just out of the door, heavy ones. Rhoam? There weren't too many folks who could be heavy like that. Being half-goron and all.
The queen put her tea down onto its little saucer delicately and batted her eyelashes innocently. “It’s a relaxing day, so relax.” She said simply and turned her focus to outside.
Everything about you is relaxed except those damn wings. He looked back at his schedule. Not a damn thing was on there. Not even a guard switch on this. Whatever this was, this was not the queen’s usual flavor of mischief.
He heard the steps hesitate and stall in front of the door. Why’s he standing right behind the door? Was he… guarding the door?
The queen had to have noticed his demeanor shift towards the door. “Rhoam is simply fetching me cookies.” she was quick to say. Her wings ruffled uncomfortably but remained as stiff as a board.
He looked at her suspiciously. “What did you do?” He asked slowly. Rhoam in front of the door, Cassandra in front of the window, the only window, and the only door.
They were blocking the exits.
Lena. The empty schedule. The recent physicals.
Oh fuck no.
“He’s onto us!” She shouted immediately.
The door opened and Rhoam stood there, ready to brawl.
Oh you sneaky bastards. Without thinking, he let the paper drop and shifted onto fours into his wolf form and immediately bared teeth with a low warning growl.
“This can go the easy way or the hard way.” The Queen stood and held her guard in front of the window. “I know you won’t bite me, Sir Fredrick, and I think Rhoam’s skin would break your teeth, so don’t try it!”
Before he could think of a potential feint or escape plan, he felt the king’s large arms circle his neck and twist him hard into the floor, his face smacking straight into the marble floor.
He let out an involuntary whimper. His neck was craned the wrong way, his joints were all wonky, none of it was comfortable. He tugged painfully against Rhoam’s headlock, but it was no use.
“Wait! You’re hurting him!” The Queen shrieked. Rhoam’s guard changed away from cautious and the grasp on his head loosened just a bit.
Enough to slip out.
He bolted straight for the door.
The one advantage he had over Rhoam was speed.
“No! Come back!” He heard his friend—no, the traitor—shout back to him as he dashed down the hallway.
Gonna have to find me first. The moment he came upon one of the vent grillings, he pushed one aside and shifted back to human form and pulled himself in and pulled the grill back into place.
One of the rare mornings Link got to eat with Aryll. By the time he usually woke up, she was busy fetching the laundry of the barracks for cleaning, the poor girl. The barracks were always atrocious.
Their morning breakfast was better than most today; a proper meal of poached eggs, bread, even a few extra slices of meat on their plates, courtesy of the chef. Not the scrambled eggs that were made en masse for the soldiers, but poached .
“This morning, Head Laundress told me to take it easy,” Aryll mentioned curiously between bites. “I don’t know why everyone’s giving me pity looks, but it’s got my hackles up.”
Pity looks? Oh he’d seen them that morning. He got one from his uncle, he got some from soldiers, some even gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Really don’t know what that’s about. Was told the same.” Link shoved an egg into his mouth and barely chewed. They were pretty well seasoned this morning too.
What’s with the special treatment? Usually the eggs were barely taken care of. Overcooked was the standard for the soldiers typically, but this? He expected this for Zelda, not him.
“Did you hear Aunt Lena is here?” Link asked Aryll. She heard all the best gossip in the castle, but Zelda had been the one to tell him when they'd woken up together in the morning.
Aryll swallowed her toast hard and took a sip of water to push it all down. “Which one is Lena again?” She began counting out their numerous aunts and uncles.
“One of dad’s littermates.”
“Older or younger?”
“Younger. Reyna is the older one.”
“Right, right. He’s got like six siblings, okay? Give me a break.” Aryll shovelled some of the eggs into her mouth.
“They’re a set of three littermates, but he’s got five siblings total.” Link couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen her scarf down food like that. “You feeling alright?”
Aryll ignored him and continued shovelling down her breakfast, even going as far as to reach onto his plate and try to take his food. Link was faster, snatching his breakfast away before his thieving sister could take it.
“You’re mean.” She pouted. She tried again and Link did the same, pulling his plate further away. “Please?”
“Get your own, you’re not being starved.”
Aryll pouted harder. “Come on, Linky please? ”
“No way! We never get treated this nicely.”
Aryll shrugged. “Maybe it’s cause Aunt Lena knows a noble or something and the king doesn’t want to cause trouble.”
“How do you figure that?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe he thinks that if he feeds us well today Aunt Lena won’t complain about the food being dry again.”
That had been the subject of her last visit—inadequate nutrition.
Aunt Lena was nice. She had a distinctly southern accent notable to Necluda. As expected of a relative, she was blonde, blue eyes like Aryll and him, a bit taller than the both of them, but contrary to their dad, their aunt was warm and very welcoming.
She noted down things on her chart, occasionally she turned Link’s head side-to-side, examining eyes, teeth, joint function. “You’re in excellent health as expected.” she complimented. She ruffled his hair affectionately and put the chart away. “Shift please.”
This is new. He did as told, and shifted on the table. He tried his best to stay on the table, but a large frame made it difficult.
“Sweet Farore,” she whispered to herself. She took his face in hand and looked at him in shock. “How did you get so big?”
Is this not a normal size? He kept quiet as she examined his teeth and eyes again. She had her little light to test his reflexes, she extended each paw.
“What are they feeding you here?” she inquired, semi-horrified. “You’re too big.” She muttered.
He shifted back into a human. “Too big?”
She nodded with a sigh. “What pack war are you trying to build for?”
“Nothing?” He answered.
“Meat. What are you eating here and how often?”
Oh that makes more sense. “The royal family likes to treat us to mutton alot.”
“ Us? ” she repeated back. “Where’s my dumbass brother?”
Ha, that’s funny. “Haven’t seen Dad anywhere. Why?”
“How big is he?”
“Bigger than I am.” considering we compare him to a small horse now, that’s probably not good I’m assuming.
“Sweet mother of the Goddesses.”
Link was curious now. “You’re saying this like we’re too big… How big is normal then?” He didn’t know or see too many wolf-shifters in these parts so it had piqued his interest.
“This.” She shifted into a smaller wolf, the size Aryll would’ve been five years ago. Only a little larger than a normal wolf.
Oh my goddesses, we’re giant if that’s normal. No wonder Aunt Lena was shocked.
She shifted back into her human form and picked up her bag and dug around. “Shift and look at the wall for me.” She instructed as she pulled out a case.
“Alright?” He shifted back into his form and turned to face the wall. I wonder what she’s doing?
He felt a hand on his hind leg and froze.
Then a sharp stab in his thigh.
He couldn’t help the loud howl that ripped out of his throat. He contorted automatically toward the pain, snapping at his aunt. He clipped the edge of her arm as she jerked out of the way just in time.
“Din, Nayru, and Farore,” Aunt Lena swore, examining her arm. There was a small cut on her forearm, barely bigger than a papercut. “I think I will put on the chainmail. Damn, kid, you’re fast.”
Link craned his neck toward his butt, but the nip she had taken out of him was buried under rumpled fur. He shifted back, rubbing his butt angrily. “What the hell was that for?!”
“It’s your vaccinations. You’re behind on all of them.” She pulled out another black case, setting down the first syringe. She shrugged on a suit of chainmail and a quilted gambeson.
“Like hell you’re giving me those.” He hopped off the table, ready to run, but was met with a hulking Rhoam guarding the door, Zelda standing next to him holding her bow.
“You should know my brother gives me way more trouble.” Aunt Lena sighed. “Usually I’m actually fighting him to the ground to give him anything.”
Zelda’s bow faltered. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” She apologised profusely. “You need them, it’ll be over quickly, I promise.”
Rhoam grumbled after. “We’re still looking for the bastard actually. He vanished into the vents this morning and he hasn’t come out yet.”
Smart. I wish I’d done that sooner. Link nodded glumly. Actually I wish Dad had warned me about this bullshit. He got himself comfortable—not really—back on the table and accepted his fate. “Do it quick please.” He shifted back into his wolf form and faced the wall. He’d have to keep from murdering whoever had planned this atrocious day.
The king stayed for the first subsequent needle before taking his leave when he was sure Link wasn’t going to pull a runner, but Zelda discarded her bow and stepped in to pet and scratch behind his ear as a support to every stab in his ass via needles that were far too thick to be called that. Through the six shots he'd been given, the urge to bite only got stronger, but he instead chose to smack his head against the wall to distract himself. None of it was pleasant, but it was a staggeringly common reaction according to his aunt.
It had to be taken as a wolf, she claimed. Something about the hylian body rejecting the shots, but as a wolf, it metabolised properly. Apparently, their skin was more sensitive and having them turn away was a method in order to react accordingly if the person raged back. It gave them an extra second to pull back if needed.
By the end of it all, his aunt told him he'd been surprisingly docile in the face of the needles—daggers he internally called them now. It made him wonder how the others were faring.
They did eventually drag his dad out of the vents for his missing three shots. He seemed more than content being covered in spiders, cobwebs and dust. He was unruly; kicking and scratching his way out, claws scratching terribly against the stone and metal walls of the vents, but they got him out alright. Rhoam and Arn had him in a sparring headlock on the ground, the two had to restrain him for Aunt Lena to give him any shots and the worst part was when he almost broke free twice.
Despite not being in his wolf form, Fredrick managed to make some truly fearsome noises—snarls, growls, and even bit Arn, who was wearing a quilted gambeson and chainmail for that exact purpose. “That’s gonna leave a mark,” he hissed. “If you turn me, you fucker, I’m turning you back,” Arn swore.
Fredrick glared at him but stopped biting. The Queen had to come by with a large offering of roasted boar to convince him to transform to take his shots, but the missing shots took nearly two hours to administer.
Aryll had long since jumped ship since Link's first howl. She’d jumped straight into the moat and someone had found her hiding against the stone wall, wading water quietly and clinging to the stone.
His uncle had asked to simply be restrained and tied up and they were more than happy to do so, but it seemed to run in every werewolf in the castle. Everyone hated those damn shots.
Dinner with his aunt was a strange fiasco. Everyone had forgiven her for her crimes of stabbing the entire castle's werewolf population but no one truly found out why she'd shown up at the castle ready with her supplies.
She delighted in meeting Zelda.
“Why are these so large?” Zelda inspected one of the unused needles from Link’s aunt’s pack. One of these was labelled with a word she didn't recognise.
His aunt Lena was more than happy to explain. “Gotta get through fur, hide and muscle.” She took the needle carefully and swished around the liquid inside. It was thick and clear, and Zelda wondered if it would be gooey like a Chuchu’s jelly or thick like oil.
“Lady Aryll let you knock her out, why don't you give a sedative?” Zelda asked curiously. Every single werewolf in the castle had fled at the very sound of the word ‘needle’ and ‘shots’. A needle so thick was bound to hurt no matter how gently they were administered.
“Other species get anesthesia but shifters are hard to account for.” She started explaining. She pulled out a sheet of paper and a piece of charcoal. “For most shifter types, their weight in and out of form are generally the same, give or take a few pounds but wolf shifters are different. Our forms can weigh over twice, sometimes three times our regular weights, and our fat and muscle distribution is too different. Too little and it won't do anything, too much and you risk permanently putting them out.” She circled a few numbers. The amounts of sedatives per weight distribution were far too different.
“Not even a mild one?”
“Not even a mild one.” Lena shook her head. “What if we administer the sedative for the shifted weight and in a haze, they choose to shift back to humans?”
Zelda shook her head. It would probably kill them or damage something in the process.
“So raw it is!” Lena laughed. She put the medicine back into her case with the other unused ones. “I'm sure getting stabbed with a knife hurts less, so I understand the fear and the general hatred for these, but they truly are a goddess-sent gift when you think about everything that can happen without them.”
From everything Link had told her following the shots to his ass, she understood the hesitance everyone had. A largely meat based diet of wild game had dietary issues that were sure to be contracted at some point, which could have led to a number of other health problems. A desire to fight and throw themselves onto just about anything led to wound infections, injuries caused by rusted metals.
“Link mentioned something about being too big?” She asked, changing the subject. She had taken a quick note of how small her aunt had been despite being related to the three large wolves living in her castle.
His aunt laughed. “You all feed them well, that much is obvious. I almost want to ask if I can come visit sometimes.”
Zelda wondered what it was about their diet here that made such a difference. They had a pretty balanced meal of grains, greens and meats twice every day, was that it? Did others only eat once a day?
“It's livestock meat and how they metabolise it.” Lena explained. “Metabolise it as a wolf and most of the nutrients go there. Do it human, you'll see it there instead. Don't ask me why, but it's a strange phenomenon.”
The mystery of why they were so large made so much more sense now. The three of them weren't quite impressive as humans. Link and Aryll were on the leaner and smaller side, but terrifying when transformed. She didn't know of Aryll's day-to-day habits, but Link? He spent most of his day as a wolfish companion. He usually ate and slept like that, she would have almost called it his preferred form.
A few weeks later...
Link had received the invitation to join the queen and his father in her solar, and was a little confused. The brief message from his dad had simply read Bring food. Alcohol. Anything.
Obligingly, Link had gone down to the kitchens to receive a snack. He carried the plate up with him, talking himself out of snagging a bite at least three times before he reached the door. He knocked.
“Enter!” the queen’s voice chirped.
Link popped his head into the solar. He had a plate of cookies and poked the plate through the door. “Sir Matthews made cookies.” He stated plainly, shaking the cookies around on the ceramic plate. “You guys have been cooped up in here for nearly three hours, what have you two been talking about?”
“The biological nightmare that is your future child.”
“Would you care to add to the conversation?” Cassandra offered.
Link shook his head. “I’m fine, but I do have to deal with the Chapel incident after I enjoy my cookies.”
Cassandra raised a brow. “Chapel incident?”
Fredrick sighed with a quiet chuckle. “Something’s stopping Arn from entering the castle chapel and he claimed it felt like something was gnawing at his ankle when he did manage to step in.” He then went on to describe something like a physical barrier although it was invisible, then a small shadow. “Sounds like a Grim, but I would’ve noticed a guardian wolf spirit in your castle if you'd had one.”
“Oh this is the first I’m hearing of this. When did it first start happening?”
“A month ago?”
Cassandra stopped drinking her tea for a moment. “You mean… when your daughter came back from her three month surprise vacation? Didn’t you mention she seemed stressed recently?” She was trying to hold back some snickering on her part, but the mere mention of it seemed to go right above the men’s heads. “Almost like she's been avoiding the both of you…?” She tried again.
“I don’t see how it's connected though.” Just as the words left his mouth, he stopped. “Aryll doesn’t have a mate. Stop implying that.”
It was Link’s turn to want to leave the room. “No she does…” He was retreating already. Did Aryll actually manage to fuck a ghost? I think it’s better I leave that there… He quickly closed the door and left with his plate of cookies. Trust Aryll to do the impossible. The possibility hadn’t dawned on him until then.
Link ran down the hall, still being careful of the plate of cookies until he reached the East Wing of the castle.
Arn was still trying to get into the chapel. He was knocking on the invisible barrier and muttering profanities. He yelped and lifted his ankle, checking for marks but he found nothing.
Link couldn’t see any shadows.
He placed the plate of cookies down and shifted.
There, gnawing on Arn’s pant leg, was the faintest shadowed puppy.
Oh. My. Fucking. Goddess. Wait, there’s just one, right?!
She’d had a baby with a ghost.
Link approached the puppy and sniffed it. It certainly smelled like Aryll, with the faintest hint of cherry blossoms that he associated with the Sheikah.
Was it alive? Link didn’t know what to think, and he wasn’t sure whether one answer was better than the other as he managed to pick up the puppy by the scruff. It was a tiny thing, barely able to crawl. He would be surprised if it could actually see at this point. Yet somehow it had managed to make its way over to the chapel and was firmly determined to prevent Arn from entering, despite having no teeth or eyes.
He knew it couldn't be dead because Arn had mentioned being able to see ghosts as he was also among the dead, but he couldn't see this little darling for some reason.
The puppy gave its best growl and squirmed as Link picked it up.
The barrier keeping the vampire out vanished and Arn gave him an utterly baffled look.
The moment Arn stepped into the chapel, the puppy’s little legs squirmed and it let out the cutest attempt at a howl in his direction.
“What the fuck was that?” Arn yelped. He then narrowed his eyes. “Link, what do you have in your mouth?”
Damn, baby’s cute and smart.
Link grumbled and began trudging off to go find his sister so that her feral offspring could eat something other than Arn’s ankles. His father was going to need to lay down for a bit when he heard. His mother would likely just walk away to go rant to Grandpa for a bit.
“WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN YOUR MOUTH, LINK?!” Arn yelled. He jogged after Link.
He sighed through his nose. Grandpa would find this turn of events hilarious.
He found his sister in her wolf form, with their dad standing over her.
“Aryll, please tell me you didn’t,” Fredrick was saying. “Your mother–” he cut himself off as the pup in Link’s mouth let out a pitiful whimper. He turned and frowned at his son. “What the hell was that?”
Link put the puppy down and looked at his sister, who immediately looked over the pup. He turned back into a hylian. “You gave birth to a church Grim, Aryll? Seriously?”
“Rauru save me,” Fredrick groaned, rubbing his face.
Aryll turned back into a hylian, cupping her tiny puppy in her hands. “Uhh, congrats?” she said sheepishly. “You’re a grandpa!”
“It’s a girl,” Link offered.
The puppy keened again.
“Aryll,” sighed Fredrick. “Feed your child. It seems I owe the Queen a hundred rupees.”
“You bet on this?!” Aryll squawked, nursing her still-invisible daughter. If Link squinted, he could see a faint ripple where the Grim was. “Link, stop staring at my boob.”
“I’M NOT!”
“Are too.”
“I’m trying to look at the baby,” he protested. “Dad, you had a bet with the queen about this?”
“I had a bet about which one of you would make me a grandfather first,” grumbled Fredrick. “I, being a sensible person, bet on you,” he said, gesturing at Link. “Clearly, I was wrong.” He looked at his daughter. “Does she have a name yet?”
“Telea,” she admitted sheepishly.
“Ah, a Kokiri name,” Fredrick noted, surprised. “That’s probably a good idea. You know how your mother is.”
Aryll nodded. “Her brother’s name is Toko,” she said.
“TWINS?” Fredrick yelped. “Oh my Goddess—where is the other one?” He looked around as if expecting to see another spectral puppy underfoot.
“Napping, Dad. Hylia’s harpy feathers, I’ve got this handled.”
“Clearly not if your daughter’s been haunting the castle chapel all month.”
“All—What do you mean all month?!”
Link was snickering.
Aryll rubbed her face with one hand, rocking her daughter. The circles under her eyes were looking more pronounced, and Link began to realize that she was trying not to cry. “I thought Sota and I had this down. He’s able to see the twins better than I am. Ugh. I didn’t think they’d be this territorial already! I thought I had more time!”
“How hard is it to keep an eye on two still-blind pups, Aryll?” Fredrick demanded.
The Grim in her arms became a series of blue energy ribbons that drifted upwards.
Aryll burst into tears. “Not again!”
Link stared. “Did she just—?”
“I’ve been running around half of Hyrule Field for the last four weeks!” she wailed. “Toko keeps going to the Temple of Time!”
Fredrick sighed and hugged her. “Don’t worry, we’ll help. Go get some food and maybe a nap. Your brother and I will handle this.”
Of course the half-Sheikah church Grim could teleport. Link shifted and loped back to the Castle. Something told him he’d be on babysitting duty for the next few months.
The boy Grim, Toko, had claimed the Temple of Time as his territory, something Zelda found absolutely hilarious. The girl, Telea, still maintained that the castle chapel was hers. Both would teleport back and forth between their home and their new “turf” to eat and nap. When Arn discovered that his best friend was now a grandfather, he had laughed for a solid twenty minutes until he was lying on the ground hiccuping. He then took both Fredrick and Madeleine out for a drink while Elise treated Aryll to a spa day.
That left Zelda and Link to babysit and tidy the house while Sota had his own business to take care of. Zelda sang them both to sleep, the little Grims enticed to stay near her holy energy while Link waged war on the dishes. He won, of course, and found Zelda leaning against the crib bars to pet the pups. He smiled, hoping that one day it wouldn’t be his niece and nephew she would sing to, but rather babies of their own.
Though, maybe not twins. Hopefully.
“They’re so cute!” Zelda whispered as she pet the sleeping twins. “When will they be able to shift?”
“A few years from now,” Link replied, placing Toko back in his sister’s den. “They’ll need time to adjust to their magic.”
“Just think about how much we can learn about spirit magic!” whispered Zelda. “There hasn’t been a true Grim in centuries. I think an old scroll in the library mentioned that the last Sage of Spirit was a Grim, but of course that can’t be verified.”
“Shh, my love, you’ll wake them,” Link whispered as Telea stirred, yawning.
Zelda returned to petting them, humming her lullaby under her breath. The pups were growing fast; no more fitting them each in one hand. While they remained mostly invisible, it seemed as though they had the knowledge to give themselves a solid corporeal form rather than the shadows they enjoyed keeping. Toko was a lighter shade of pale gold, while Talea had ray-like markings on her shoulder like the rising sun and a white muzzle.
“Oh that's right, I forgot to tell you. I got my cousin Deilia to keep an eye on Toko whenever he hops over to the Temple.” Zelda told Link with a smile. She continued petting the puppy in her lap.
“She's there often?” Link whispered back.
She nodded. “She works as a priestess but only at night—past vampire attack made day work a bit harder.” She shrugged off. “Anyway she found Toko the first day he was there.”
Link was surprised. He'd barely been able to see the twins as human, and if he hadn't had the foresight to shift first, the sighting would've gone right over his head. “How can she see them?”
“Holy harpy blood enhanced her vampiric sight.” Zelda explained. They both knew vampires could see those beyond the grave, but the grims were an exception that were beyond Arn’s vision. “I asked her to look into Grim sightings and she agreed.”
Link looked down at Telea sleeping in his lap. A paw was slowly moving back and forth—he called it air-swimming. “What'd she find?”
“The Temple of Time used to have a resident grim, but he'd only show up around midnight and on foggy days. He's described as a large golden wolf—”
“Zelda, that's half my family.”
“Does your family glow gold?”
“In certain lightings…”
Zelda flicked a wing at him. “Let me finish.” She gently smacked his shoulder with her wing. “He's a large golden wolf with a scar on his face, but he apparently hasn't been seen in a few hundred years.”
“Oh… a pity… I'd love to see him.”
“That's the thing, Deilia sighted him last week.”
“Eh? Really?” Link was listening attentively now.
Zelda nodded. “She was a bit worried he'd come back to claim his old territory but it was quite adorable actually. She found him playing with Toko, dragging him around by the scruff of his neck around the grounds.”
Link scratched Telea’s belly. She began making quiet puffing noises as her paws kept playing in the air. “Church Grims are hyper-territorial aren't they?”
“Rumours say that, but that felt different.” Toko’s head lolled off her lap, but the puppy didn't wake. Zelda readjusted him slowly to keep him asleep. “Do you know the story of the golden wolf of the temple?”
Link shook his head. It was familiar, but he had no recollection of the stories beyond just the name. He knew him as The Golden Wolf, an old protector spirit from an era long past, but nothing more than that.
“They say he was born a werewolf in the Lost Forest who helped protect Hyrule from a great evil, but along the way, he formed a peculiar attachment to the Temple post-war. Often, he was found sitting at the Stone of the Three until one day, he vanished for weeks and returned harnessing the power of a god, forever changed. He passed on later in life, but they say his soul never ascended and he dedicated his life to protecting those who sought out the Temple.” Zelda recited. There was an odd reminiscence in her eyes, a glaze over her shining green eyes.
“I had no idea… I thought he was just some protector.”
“She found records of another as well, one more recent in Faron.” She continued. “It seems your wolfie spirits don't just like holy lands, they like horses too.”
“I'd love to hear this.” Link couldn’t recall how many times Epona had been spooked by wolves.
“It would seem the Faronese locals all know of the wolf at the stables near Floria.”
Link enjoyed seeing the sparkle in her eyes. She was brimming with excitement as she recalled the details her cousin had told her.
“There's a wolf spirit who guards The Spring of Courage and who's said to guide lost travellers back to the stables, but when they turn to thank him, he vanishes. He only ever appears right around dusk, but he's never seen during the day or the middle of the night. He's become an urban legend, but most reports are the same. Grey fur, hulkingly large, pretty eyes, and a shackle on the paw.”
“Maybe I’ll look into it the next time I’m down that way.” Link told her. He was surprised that he hadn’t known about this specific legend yet.