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Trying to sit and eat in the barracks after the day he'd hard was going to drive him insane. Link's hands wouldn't stop shaking. It was a ridiculous reaction to have; the King was fine. It wasn't his fault, nobody was even trying to claim it was his fault. How was anyone supposed to realize the injured group was Yiga? So many at once had never been seen before, he…
It was just that the day had gone poorly. That's all. Very poorly. He looked up across the table at the door outside, at the scraps of Guardian armour used to prop it open and let in fresh air, and wondered again if he could've escaped that whole mess if he'd just not dropped his helmet, if he'd kept it on. If the stranger hadn't recognized him (hadn't looked exactly like him somehow!)
If the Yiga somehow hadn't known he was someone worth recognizing.
He stared at his hands as if they had the answer somehow. They didn't; couldn't. When he tried to go back to eating, he dropped his food yet again and Borre put a hand on his. His mentor quietly shook his head.
"You look like you should go for a ride."
Borre had been his friend a long time. Link felt a little relief from having him say it. It felt like having permission to go (because if he didn't have someone to back it, he might not be allowed. Might be punished. Might...)
He was being ridiculous. The King was going to be busy all night. Even if he was healed, there was the question of what to do about such a massive upswing in Yiga activity so near Castletown. He wasn't going to bother a common soldier like Link. Link put down his food, which was at least half-eaten and not a total waste, and left to find the stables and his horse. His current, main horse was one he liked, a long-time favourite that was happy to shove her face in his and demanded he focus his scattered attention. He'd named her when much younger, so he was stuck with a horse named Fork but he didn't really mind. Some people thought it was a joke on "Fuck" now that he was older, and he was more than okay with that.
What he wanted now was to just ride out, and to forget what that Yiga had said to him. He wanted to forget people had overheard and started asking him what the stranger had meant but he'd just shook his head and feigned ignorance until people lost interest in light of everything else.
The Yiga lied, of course. He knew they lied; everyone knew they lied.
...He just wished he knew how they'd known that. Because that...
What happened to the sword? I know you have it. Everyone said I had it since I was twelve. You know what I mean. What did you do, put it back and leave?
That was, terrifyingly, not a lie.
Link shifted from grooming Fork to saddling her to ride, unbothered by how late in the night it was. Everyone was used to him riding out late at night, including Fork. The Guards liked it when the Knight-trainees joined them in the skeleton management after all. This was good.
It was a long way from the castle stables to the walls. This didn't stop him from fucking thinking.
How could they know that? How—There had been nobody when he went to the forest! He'd never told anyone! All his own father had even known was that his son vanished from the training camp and came back later that night, apologetic and late. He'd gone into the Lost Woods to escape teasing, and the other boys had given up long before him. And inside…
He stopped at the fountain square and did not look to the east gate. He did not go. What would he find, if he left the castle now and went back for it? Just a sword; a sword that would mark him as someone interesting. Someone important. Someone everyone wanted attention from.
As if he needed any more of that. The Princess and the Sheikah had the Divine Beasts, they had the Guardians. It was all in hand. They did not need him; they didn't even want him. He was an over-competent young soldier, with no parents anywhere closer than Hateno and he turned west and road out towards the bridge to the breach instead. That canyon liked to collect stalmonsters. It would keep him busy. He checked he had sword, shield, bow and spear, checked how Fork was doing and made soft greetings to everyone he passed doing their evening work.
The night was still young.
Whatever excitement had hit the castle hadn't affected life down here much. The earlier riders had found the defunct Yiga camp, already bloody and abandoned, and no sign of the attackers. Those had come in the West gate he was using, which was incidental but got him a "Good luck!" from the guards on duty as they opened it for him despite the late hour and let him out.
Link breathed a sigh of relief; he'd hoped they wouldn't worry so much as to refuse, but his reputation among the guards was solid: he was good at problems, and good at fighting. His actual friends liked him for being competent, not small and unobtrusive and quiet—
Fork tossed her head and slowed, looking back at him at his shift and Link softened his hands and body with a sigh. He stroked her neck and mane, murmuring nonsense until she looked forward again and he could let go of the building stress too.
It did him no good. That problem nothing could shake except not being present… and that could only ever be a temporary solution. He couldn't just quit the Hylian Army, no matter how much he might want to. What else was he even good for?
Well. Besides that.
It was another hour before he rode out past the bridge, and an hour longer before the breach was deep enough he started running into monsters again. That was a comfort; it meant the earlier sweep by the guards had been thorough, as he'd pretty much expected. He could see where the Yiga camp had been found, the searched tunnels and the area above. There'd been little left to see, and a small group of guards standing watch he'd waved at as he passed.
Waved at, and gotten thanks for being willing to push deeper so they could rest quietly that night. It made the exertion welcome, warming. It meant he could crash there rather than return to the Castle once he was done, and nobody would wonder why.
The breach was a long canyon; it took him a few hours to clear from the Guard camp to the crossroads and he stopped there for a brief rest. Fork was resting by the Shrine, within the range where its presence kept stal monsters away, drinking from a bucket of water and resting after a brush down her coat. He'd stepped away to sit and let his own heart breathe and he watched up and down the road as he tried to decide if he wanted to carry on or not. He could; there wasn't a stable for a ways, but he had the materials to sleep outdoors and there was farmland not far off with barns he could easily have made use of for shelter. If he was a good day's ride out, he might escape being in the castle for longer, but…
It would only make everyone wonder why all the more strongly. One night away was fine; he could get restless, especially when he felt useless as anyone would if they had to just watch someone sneak into the castle grounds and go for the King. But longer, and someone might think too long about the questions he'd been asked.
He couldn't have that, and the trap felt like hands wrapped around his throat. He pressed his gloved palms to his eyes and hissed a swear between his teeth.
Something moved on the rocks overhead.
Link threw himself forward into a roll and rose, going straight for sword and shield. That something dropped on him, sword point down, gleaming with the eerie blue-green light he remembered from the day before. He slammed them away so they hit the ground in a roll and came back up with their own sword high, and a gleaming shield of light (different from the Sheikah style) on their right arm.
Left-handed, Link noted. Same light, same build; they looked human, but dressed differently than when they'd been at the Castle—
This was the Yiga who tried to kill the King.
The Yiga was dressed mostly like a Hylian now; he wore a very typical knit shirt under light armour, folded up over an arm that looked mechanical and glowed in the darkness, throwing his pale face and hair into relief. His hair was as blond and light as Link's own, but twisted up on his head and his sword looked like any decent royal sword hilt under a strange, long and not-metal blade.
He grinned at Link, raised the glowing hand and made a rude gesture before him that was clearly an invitation to fight.
Link had no qualms about that.
A human fought very differently than a stal on a good day; Link had even fought Yiga before, although it was rare. Most were hard to pin down long enough to make them fight. Many preferred bow over sword, and certainly no swords like this person wielded. But he'd fought enough to realize within a few clashes of blade on shield and breaking apart that this man did not fight like a Yiga.
He fought like a soldier, Link realized and swallowed, eyes tight and wary. Worse: he fought like he knew exactly what Link was going to do before he did it. He'd taken a few glancing blows saved only by his armour, and hadn't gotten a single hit on the stranger yet.
A stranger who stood back after their last clash and spread his arms with a light, taunting laugh. "Well, glad I gave you an excuse to avoid him tonight."
Link's blood was cold. He did not leave his ready stance although he was tempted: tempted to go for his bow and see if he could get a fast enough shot in to shut up that blabbing mouth. He gave no response back, the way he never did when someone brought up the King, and the stranger just laughed.
"I suppose if you never had the sword, he's only using you when he's bored? I figure he still likes you being small and quiet about it. Does it hurt every time?"
Link snarled and lunged. He got a cut in that was deflected by the other man's long blade, and then he slammed his shield into his face with a satisfyingly hard strike. The stranger dropped and rolled away, rising and shaking himself off. He set his broken nose casually, and Link could see (infuriatingly) that he healed like him, too: bruises were blooming too-quickly on the cheeks, the colour unfurling like a flower.
He'd be healed in minutes; evidence of the fight gone, but for the blood painting his mouth.
"Well. At least that's the same."
Link did not deign to respond to that. He shook out his shield arm and gave his only reply so far, an expressive, armed shrug. What did you expect?
What do you want?
"How is the princess, if you're not his main toy?" the stranger asked, and Link's throat—already silent—closed. He tried to swallow, but felt faint instead.
The princess? Why would he ask about her when they were talking about this? The King wouldn't abuse his own daughter—would he? It was different, to be a noble who indulged with young knights who didn't have anyone around to object, and the future queen.
"Oh, I see," the stranger carried on, as if Link had screamed his protest instead of froze. "You don't know. I suppose you two aren't even talking, if nobody knows you're the Hero do they? You're no one at all."
And didn't those words carry a vitriol Link had wanted to say every time someone asked him if he wished for fame. He focused suddenly on the man's face once more, that mirror image of his own—older, yes, but just as round, just as soft, just as short. (He hadn't gained any height in years. No breasts, no body hair, nothing, like he—)
(Like he knew why not, but still.)
Princess Zelda was a couple years younger than him. Princess Zelda was rarely allowed anywhere without her father's permission, not even to see her mother's best friend alone.
There was a knot in his throat that tasted like bile, and Link pointed his sword at the stranger, suddenly, breathlessly angry at what he'd said.
The sharp, biting rage had faded from his face, and the gaze that met his own now was just tired. "I don't know what he might do. I don't even know what he did," the man said. Link looked from strange palm to his empty, other hand, his sword just gone with no sign of where it now was. "When I failed, I woke with nothing. I know what Zelda told me, and I know how people reacted but I don't actually know what happened to you or her and your life is different than mine."
'How?' Link mouthed, unable to voice the word to a stranger.
"I took the sword."
Link's throat closed with fear. I took the sword, he thought, and he'd wondered what his life would be like. I took the sword, two years before his father was killed in a campaign. I took the sword, and he'd never seen his family again even without doing that. Had he…?
Link mouthed another word, but the stranger looked confused. Briefly, he even seemed pained by it and he licked his lips and shook his head.
"When I said I woke with nothing, I mean it. I don't know what you're asking me because I don't remember anything. Everything before the Calamity hit is gone."
Link made a face at that. He swallowed, trying to think of how to form the words but couldn't. He couldn't say 'mother', couldn't name their sister, couldn't ask. He tried 'Home?' but that just got more exhaustion from the face of someone who had interrogated him and tried to kill his King and now himself and…
Only to turn around and say I'm you. Link sheathed the sword for a second and gestured again, more clearly, 'why?'
"If you're asking why I'm here its an accident. Magic happened. If you're asking why I'm bothering you, it's because of that mother-fucking King." He tilted his head. "Do people really say you might be Zelda's half-brother?"
Link gave him the look that deserved. He did not want to confirm; of course they said that. They said it about most women at court with a child of nearly the right age and looks. Since the Queen died, the King had not been subtle about his dalliances (and who could really blame him? He did not deserve to die alone.)
(Link just wished he stuck to women who wanted his attention, and not him.)
…Wished his behaviour hadn't made this stranger ask about his daughter. Link gestured again, a few signs that he knew. "Princess," he asked. "What did she tell you?"
"If you mean about herself, very little." The Stranger closed the light shield and started tossing something in one hand, something small and white and organic. Link watched it move, fixed and uneasy. What did he have in mind? "She was… relieved, when I was assigned to her as a guard, as much as she hated me. She never did unlock her powers of the Gods until the last moment. I imagine her father's influence was little help."
No, Link agreed. Nothing he'd heard about how her father handled her sounded helpful to him either. But to suggest he was doing worse than that felt…
He wasn't sure how he felt. He swallowed again, still braced enough that any movement from the other man made him stare like they hadn't both put away their swords. It was… strange. The stranger's face was unmarked, but when he'd seen him earlier that day he'd had his missing arm exposed. There had been dark scars on his shoulder, above the lost limb—a limb currently replaced by some kind of technology that was both like and unlike that of the Sheikah. It was green stone, not brown, and openly, obviously hollow except for where a shield fitted against the bars of the forearm.
"Looking for something specific on me?" the man asked, and his weight shifted, as if to come for him once more.
Link braced; he wasn't sure what he'd wanted either, besides answers. This man had no wish to give him any.
A wolf snarled. Something—something unfamiliar, something unnatural—hissed and spat from the darkness, a sound that unnerved him and sent Link's hand back to his sword. He kept it on the hilt, even as the stranger weirdly relaxed at the cacophony and backed up.
"Ah. I forgot you two had stepped out."
The wolf trotted out of the darkness, soft and wary. It watched Link with one brilliantly pale eye and positioned itself solidly between him and the stranger. They would have to go over or through the wolf to each other, and Link was… more than a little annoyed to see it. He glared back at the dog.
Why was he fighting with a dog? A dog that was still, most certainly a strangely tame wolf. It had strange markings but…
But he still couldn't say the fucking words to ask. He licked his lips once again, uneasily, and startled hard as something worse, something far stranger moved on the rocks overhead.
"Don't worry, it's just a friend," the stranger said, and Link remembered suddenly and viscerally what some of this man's friends had been. He remembered, most of all, the small youth in green with a tail that had placed themself between them—and potentially spared him this man stabbing him first, before the King ever married. That had felt… something like this. Almost like this.
Link gave up on braving this and took two harsh, uneasy steps back. He let his gaze drift away and the man sighed. He did something in a flash of blue-green light and the green arm vanished from view, the sleeve under it suddenly empty: he'd made the mechanical arm vanish once again.
"See? I put it away. Can I talk to him one last time, please?"
The wolf sat, with an air of deep reluctance, but it stayed there while the stranger came closer. Link kept his shield up and glared.
"Don't worry so much," the man said and he smiled. It was not a pleasant expression, not at all. "Look, you know something's coming. I don't know when this is for you, and frankly I don't care. Maybe not having the sword saves you; maybe it doesn't. Maybe you'll wind up just like me. But if it doesn't, if you wind up stuck with that son of a bitch, I'll give you one helpful suggestion."
Link wanted to tell him to fuck off. He thought about pushing away; he thought about leaving. Maybe if Fork had been upset. Maybe if they weren't between him and her. Maybe—
(Maybe if he didn't look at the future of service to the crown with dread already.)
He stayed still, not responding. But he didn't pull away.
"There's a path under the castle. A long, spiral stair. There's a plaque at the bottom that tells you not to go further. The locked door there leads down to the Spring of Spirit, where the power for the Sheikah Tech pools. At the far side, there's a collapsed hallway that's not blocked so deep as they think and more stairs.
"When you reach the room with the murals, if you're sure you're done with this shit, go past the broken stone one last time. Maybe the locks will still be there, who knows. If they're gone…"
Link couldn't breathe. He wasn't sure what he was hearing; wasn't sure how much he dared think it through. He'd never… (that was a lie. He'd sometimes wished he could die, but never seriously, never like this.) He didn't—
"If the locks are all gone, you probably don't have much time anyways," the stranger finished. "They said the Castle had to stand to keep the seal, but I think we both know that sometimes just because the walls remain it doesn't mean the core hasn't rotted away. Don't we?"
Had this happened to the stranger, because he wasn't deemed too poor, too insignificant to be a page? Link wondered. It seemed likely. It seemed…
It wasn't better, to be the King's toy like this. It made him sick.
"Take the sword," the man said. "And take the Princess, when you go. Maybe they'll save you, if nothing else will."
Link swallowed. He stared straight ahead as the man walked away, the wolf falling into step at his heels. Something flashed in the darkness, like torchlight off some animal's eyes, and movement skittered across the base of the pockmarked stones of the breach into nothing.
He stood, cold and still, his heart-racing and breath shallow in his throat until Fork finally came close, too worried to heed her ground tie and shoved a warm, hot nose in his face.
Only then did Link fold against her neck and cry.