Chapter Text
Link tossed his legs over the castle wall and dropped several feet to the soft grass just outside, allowed to grow long and wild. A shock echoed up his legs from the impact, and he winced, but the mild pain was nothing, truly. He tucked his distinctive rosy hair into his heavy red cloak and spared a glance for the moon pearl tied to a cord around his neck, glowing just like its namesake up above.
After one last check in his bags to make sure he'd packed everything he needed, Link set off down the hill, away from the castle. He reveled in long breaths of cool, plant-scented breezes, so different from the candle-warmed, perfumed air of the court inside.
Strictly speaking, he didn't need to sneak out. He could go where he wanted, when he wanted, so long as he returned. But he hadn't exactly announced a trip, and he didn't want any companions, as courtiers would likely insist upon. Those advisors…
Link shook his head. He wanted to travel, really travel. To get a little dirty. He wanted to see if Hytopian food was as spicy as it had been when he’d first visited sixty years ago—not that he'd be able to eat much of it, but… he could taste it, at least.
With his hair mostly covered and makeup blended into the cold lower half of his face to make it look like skin, Link passed through Castle Town without being recognized. The nighttime hour helped, both the darkness and the limited number of people out and about. Link nearly felt like a person again, mingling in the fog with the late carriages and street lamps burning like islands in the gloom.
He still felt real when he picked an inn at the edge of town, one intended for transients who didn't want to delve into the cobbled streets. He kept his hood up inside, which wasn't that unusual. There were at least three people in the dining room who did the same, for various reasons.
(Were those horns, Link wondered. Well, as long as the person they belonged to remained peaceful. The inn wouldn't serve them if there was any hint they wouldn't be. Link would just keep his eyes open. Those, at least, were still his own.)
“Just one bed for the night, please,” Link said when the innkeeper at the counter turned to him. He pulled a few small rupees from his bag, well aware that anything too valuable could make him a target.
The innkeeper eyed him, but she took the rupees and pulled over a ledger. “Didn't think the Doll of Hyrule would grace us with their presence.”
Link caught himself before he frowned. He shrugged instead, as if it didn't matter. He'd… grown into the nickname, much as he'd hated it at first. “Just traveling.”
He counted out another fair amount of money and set it on the ledger page. He used his right hand, the one made entirely of porcelain plates, to confirm her suspicions. In the darkness, it usually wasn't easy to distinguish the porcelain from pale skin. He sometimes wore gloves, but honestly, he hated the way they further dulled his sense of touch.
“I’d appreciate it if there wasn't much fuss,” he continued, gesturing to the money.
The innkeeper blinked at him, then slipped about half of the bribe into her apron pocket, removing a small, labeled key at the same time. “There won't be. You can take this room, it's open tonight. Will you be needing a meal, as well?”
Link hesitated, then shook his head. “Just coffee tomorrow, if you offer it.”
“We do.”
“Then I'll see you tomorrow morning, thank you.” Link took back the rest of his bribe, smiled at the woman, and headed up the stairs she indicated. He checked the number attached to the key, and to his satisfaction, found it an entirely unremarkable tiny single-person room.
He locked the door and flopped on the bed, shoes and bag and all. He smiled to himself when he felt the lumps in the straw-stuffed mattress, and rolled over to face the rafters.
Lorule had closed five years ago. Link had ventured out on several trips since then, usually headed for various locales around Hyrule to check up on them at Zelda’s behest, but not since that moment five years ago had Link felt such an ache in his heart for…
He often lied to himself and called it “an unnameable something more.A” But he knew, deep down, that he longed for another adventure: another very good reason to travel, to fight, to do things with an unwavering conviction and a beacon of a goal. He felt awful about his longing. Adventure meant that people were in genuine danger, that there was a chance of failure.
But he missed it. He did.
Link stared at the ceiling for a few minutes more, fiddling with the bracelet around his wrist and watching the vague orange flicker of a lamp that hung just outside his window.
If he was being optimistic, he’d say that he felt another call to adventure in his heart. Somewhere out there, someone needed a dusty old Hero like him… He was likely fooling himself.
But a trip to Hytopia would be nice. He could stop in Labrynna on the way, take a sailboat out just to feel the breeze. Maybe he could escape the feeling of being a puppet with strings that the court fought over, even if just for a few days. He… wished Zelda was with him. She'd be missed far more than he would be, though. She'd be nice company. Perhaps someday they could take a trip away from chaperoning eyes and the gossipping silver-haired.
Eventually, Link sat up. He could at least try to get a bit of rest, and leave before dawn. Perhaps there was someone taking a cart out east—Link had learned the hard way that, even with nice boots, walking for too long was liable to grind down the porcelain of his feet. He'd find rides and hitchhike where he could, he'd done it before. And he had a few replacement parts and materials if he really needed them: those were a necessity.
Link stood to hang his cloak on the door hook, but before he could even take it off his shoulders, he had to pause. Had that amulet always been there, staring at him with that cast golden eye—no, more like bronze, with little rubies inset as the iris around a slit pupil…?
That had to be magic of some kind. Link scowled at it. If it was magical, was it good or bad? A gift, like Ravio’s bracelet, or a curse, like the mermaid? A trap?
Link hesitated, but reached out with his right hand, the porcelain one. If it was destructive, he'd rather lose that hand than have to replace his last few real fingers. He picked up the amulet—
And magic took hold of his remaining organs and yanked him down into inky blackness.
Zelda put her mittened hands on her hips and huffed, a cloud of breath escaping her mouth. “This looks a little dangerous.”
“That's why you're taking the safe route down,” Link pointed out, nodding to the little hot air balloon waiting off to the side, steaming in the cold. He knew from experience that it could be hard to steer, but all Zelda needed to do was take it to the bottom of the mountain. She was smart. She'd manage.
“And what do we do if you smash yourself on the rocks?” Zelda eyed him.
Link grinned. “Hey, it's happened before. I was always able to pull myself together then.” He laughed at his own joke. “A bit of a crash won't hurt me. Besides, you insisted on coming!”
“Because you're insisting on surfing down the most dangerous mountain in Hyrule.” Zelda rolled her eyes, but brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.
“I've done it before.”
“I know, I watched.” Zelda snorted. She pulled a flaming chunk of rock out of her little slate, then crunched on the snow over to the balloon and climbed inside the wooden basket. “Have fun.”
“Someday I'll get you on a shield,” Link promised. He chose one from his mental inventory and flipped it down to his feet, a pretty purple one made by the Gerudo.
From the already rising balloon, Zelda called down. “Fat chance! Now go, I'm recording!”
Link smiled again, excited. He wondered if this was what adrenaline felt like, or a racing heart. Though he'd been told that his heart and brain remained intact from his mortal body, he hadn't ever felt or seen them himself. His heart never felt like it beat. For all he knew, he carried dead hunks of flesh inside his tough ceramic casing.
No matter. The cold air on his face made Link feel alive, no matter what percentage of him was physically Hylian.
He carefully chose his launch point, set his feet on the underside of his shield, and tipped his weight forward.
The snowy mountain zipped past, a blur of white and gray and blue. Link kept his balance centered and his eyes forward—for all he was used to shield surfing, it really could be dangerous if he wasn't vigilant the whole time. That was part of why he liked it so much. It was unpredictable.
Link’s green cloak billowed out behind him as he took a jump at speed, turning in the air to land on his feet once again. The green hood whipped off his head, though it remained securely clasped around his neck, and his large yellow scarf followed suit, leaving just the tighter yellow one on his head that he tied every morning. The fabric streaming behind him, along with his wide sleeves and trousers, created a little drag, which kept him going at a manageable pace.
The next jump he took left him flying through the air for a solid three seconds, weightless and laughing. He waved his hand at the hot air balloon following him, then landed hard again, wobbling just a little.
Time to focus, then.
Link flicked on his stasis sense, meant to identify things on which he could use his stasis ability. The sense highlighted his path in yellow in his eyes, identifying obstacles and moving objects. He deftly swerved around a half-obscured rock that could have sent him flying, and aimed for another jump that took him over a cliff.
He dared a trick in the air during that jump, just a little flip, and when he landed, he shouted in triumph, shoving his fists in the air. He felt good: sharp, aware, capable. His body moved exactly how he wanted it to, after the recent repairs. This next section of the mountain was the easiest, so he slowed and turned off his stasis sense, confident in his ability to navigate without it.
Or course, that moment was when a stray rock flipped his shield, and Link went flying into the snow.
It was deep snow, so he was completely fine, but his clothes were going to be soaked. His shield thunked down somewhere in the distance.
Link sighed, letting the buzz of the ride and the crash fade. Zelda would fuss.
He clambered up through the snow to wave up to Zelda again. He was totally okay, but so much for the perfect video recording.
He wasn't exactly light on his feet, so he struggled a bit getting out of the snow and up onto a solid boulder. He scowled, looking for his shield. It was a good surfing shield, and he'd be upset to lose it. He could always glide down the mountain instead, but it'd be more fun to surf down if he could get going again…
A golden glint in the snow not far away made Link smile in triumph. He ventured out and wrapped his hand around the gold, expecting a shield—
He picked up an unfamiliar Sheikah amulet and overbalanced, falling backward—
And backward, and backward.
“By the Seven Sages,” Link muttered in exasperation, looking up at the sky. He'd kept an eye on the gray blanket of clouds all morning, but hadn't so much as smelled a storm until now.
Another warm raindrop landed on his cheek, and he groaned. At least the fight was nearly over, and he knew how to end it faster if he really had to.
He spun to knock off the last geru’s head, feeding just enough magic into his sword so the burst of flame would cut through the thick scales effectively. The head dropped to the ground, and Link paused just a moment to watch the monsters dissolve into miasma, purple and black. Once he was certain he'd destroyed the entire camp, he snatched up his spoils—a few scales, a few teeth—and hurried for the wall.
Despite the years it had been since Ganon’s true death, monsters still roamed the land in packs, and towns had long ago learned to protect themselves. This one was surrounded by a tall wall made of logs lashed together with rope, with only three ways in or out. It was a simple measure, but it worked. Some of the buildings inside the wall were even older than the Queen, who'd slept for a hundred years.
The keeper of the gate saw Link coming, holding his hand up against the increasing patter of the rain, as if that would do anything.
“Hero!” he said, no doubt noting the ruby-encrusted sword in Link’s hand. “You've returned so soon!”
Link hummed. “Finished with that geru band you were having trouble with. I need shelter from the storm before I track down the rest of them.”
“Right, of course.” The gatekeeper opened the smaller door set into the larger closed gate and pulled back, allowing Link entrance into the town.
“Thanks.” Link found the closest solid shelter he could—the overhang where the gatekeepers spent their days. He would use a tree if he had to, but he preferred something a little less likely to leak.
He hadn't been out in the rain long enough for anything to start running. He checked his hands, noting the softening bits of discolored flesh, but his legs and his face hadn't gotten wet enough to liquify. At least he wouldn't scare the gatekeeper with half a melted face, even if it was the half he usually covered with his bangs.
Once upon a time, after the first defeat of Ganon and once Link had reunited with her, the Princess Zelda had used her memories of the last Hero’s writings to suggest that Link’s surely fatal chest wound could be sealed with an unusual technique: using mud made from the dust of the room and a mixture of their bloods, she'd filled the hole in his ribs.
It had worked, and Link continued to use different dirt through a second adventure and the years afterward, especially now that the very scent of his blood could bring monsters swarming from miles around.
The ability could be helpful sometimes, when Link was on the hunt and ready for them, but usually he tried to avoid bleeding. Slapping a handful of mud on his wounds usually did the trick. If he shaped it right, smoothed the surface, and used the right kind of mud, then the dirt soon hardened to something resembling flesh. He hadn't experienced any lasting issues, despite replacing muscle and skin and at least part of his internal organs with different sorts of mud, so he figured this was probably fine. He'd use the resources he had.
But the mud still acted like mud, sometimes. Getting too wet or too dry tended to result in some stinging pain and reopened wounds as the clay that Link preferred melted or flaked off his body.
The storm played a melody on the wooden roof, and Link sighed. He sat down on a bale of hay to take the weight off his feet, leaving the chairs and table for the gatekeeper, who locked the gate and came back, water rolling off his waxed cloak.
“Is it true, that you're afraid of water?” he asked shamelessly, taking his chair again. A window and a buffed mirror positioned correctly let him see the gate outside to do his job.
Link cleaned off his sword and sheathed it on his back before leaning to rest his arms behind him. “That's the rumor now, is it?”
“I've heard a few stories,” the gatekeeper shrugged. He picked up his mug again. “Some of them aren't flattering.”
“I don't think most people would admit that while I'm right here,” Link told him, but smirked along with the words. “I'm not afraid. Getting wet can just be inconvenient.”
“That doesn't actually answer anything, you realize.”
Link shrugged. “It's my business.”
“I suppose.” It didn't sound like the gatekeeper wanted to drop the subject, but Link wouldn't keep talking about it. At least he picked up on that.
Sure, Link didn't like being out in the rain, but he liked the sound and smell of it. He leaned back, not quite daring to close his eyes with a stranger so near. The rain and the hay and the fact that he'd used a fair amount of magic today all called him to rest, though…
Link sat up to pull a bit of food from his pouch to distract himself. He'd found that he didn't really need to eat as much as he used to, now that half his stomach was just dirt, but he liked to snack.
“Gatekeeper,” he began, “besides the geru and the moas in your graveyard, what other monsters have you heard of recently?”
“Looking for more?” The gatekeeper looked up from his book.
“Always. Anything to be concerned about? You hear all the gossip, don't you?” Link took a bite of a slice of cheese.
The gatekeeper sat back as if to think. “I believe a traveler was claiming to have seen a lynel wandering too close to the road out west.”
Link scowled. “A lynel out there? Huh. Yeah, I should probably check that out. Once the rain stops, though.”
“Hm.” The gatekeeper looked Link over with an expression that put Link’s senses on alert.
Monsters hid among people, sometimes. Link didn't go out of his way to expose them or murder them, because they were usually just people, but if they tried to hurt him or anyone else…
Link put his cheese away and stood, stretching his arms over his head. “I'm not sure if this rain is going to stop anytime soon. I might as well head out to a tavern while I wait. Thanks for keeping me a bit of company.”
The gatekeeper stood, and Link felt the electricity in his bones.
“Hold on, I have something for you.”
Link turned, wary, unsure if this gatekeeper was malicious or just awkward. The rain pounded on the roof above them and brightened the greens of the world outside. Link rested his hands on his hips, ready to lash out if something went wrong. Though he tried to avoid it, it wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten caught fighting in the rain, and it wouldn't be the last.
The gatekeeper simply handed him a little parcel wrapped in a dirty, undyed cloth. “We found it while scouting around the walls. Seems like magic, and we figured it would best go to you or someone else who knows about those things.”
Hm. It didn't look like a weapon. Link took the thing and let the cloth fall from around it, revealing a golden amulet about the size of his hand, shaped like an evil eye. He frowned, hovering his hand over it. “Definitely magic. Thanks. I'll find someone to identify it.” He had a few contacts at the university, and there was always the Princess or the Queen for questions like this.
“We were wondering if those are real rubies,” the gatekeeper added, pointing at the inlaid gems.
Link shrugged. “Very possibly, gems and magic are—” He picked the amulet up to inspect the angles, and a magic seized him by the chest and pulled. He choked, resisting, but the magic tore at him, and he fell—