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skyloftian-nutcase · 4 months

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Blood of the Hero Ch 12 (Link's parents play botw)

Summary: The Soul of the Hero will always be there to save Hyrule. But when Calamity Ganon is nearly victorious in killing him, it's those that bear the Blood of the Hero who will prevail. Ten years after the Great Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged and Link's parents fight to save their son and Hyrule along with him.

AO3 link

To Kakariko - Familiar Faces

"Get her out of here. You can't win this fight. Not here, not like this. Go to Fort Hateno, Link. We'll rally the troops there and figure something out."

The air was so filled with ash and smoke it practically choked him as Castle Town burned. The sound of distant guardian fire and people’s screams rang in his ears. His exhaustion was so prevalent he could sleep and never wake up right then and there. His heart was so broken he almost wished for death. But his determination was even stronger, his concern for Link and the princess paramount. Link’s worried expression cut into him far more than a guardian’s beam ever could. The boy’s eyes, filled with sorrow, glittered with something else at his words, though.

Abel was doing more than just giving an order, he was giving the boy hope. Link latched on to the words, his face growing stony with conviction. Abel pat his cheek lightly and gave what little bit of a smile that he could muster. "I'll meet you there, okay?"

His son watched him, his façade cracking a hair, his breath hitching for just a moment. Abel slid his hand behind his boy's head, pulling him close so their foreheads rested against each other, and they both closed their eyes for a moment. "Keep her safe. Do your duty, Link. Now, go."

T he moment was lost, and Link pulled away. He took a slow, deep, steadying breath, and then nodded. With renewed resolve, he turned quickly, rushing to Princess Zelda and grabbing her by the wrist, pulling her away from Abel, away from the castle, away from the city and the ruins and the disaster all around them. The princess followed helplessly, tears staining her cheeks as she turned back to look one last time at her home, her kingdom, before they vanished around a corner.

Abel awoke stiff and sore and disoriented. Images of Castle Town faded into the dust that was lazily floating in the sunlight. Everything was too soft and warm; it instantly made his insides squirm. It felt foreign and unsafe. Reaching forward, he found himself clawing at air where Link and Tilieth had been, and cold adrenaline shot through him like ice, making him nearly fall out of the bed in his haste to get up. His chest screamed in protest, and he doubled over, leaning on a small table for a second to catch his breath.

Kakariko. They made it to Kakariko. He’d nearly forgotten. But where was his family?

Abel quickly slid some boots on. Heading outside, he saw that the sun was fairly high in the sky, and his anxiety grew tenfold. How long had he been asleep? What had happened in that time?

“Captain Abel.”

Turning, Abel saw one of the Sheikah warriors from yesterday. Before he could get a word in, the warrior continued, “Your wife and the Champion are with Lady Impa in her residence. Would you like me to escort you?”

He didn’t need an escort. It was ten steps away from the inn. Abel shook his head, continuing on, all other courtesy forgotten. It was a somewhat chilly morning with the wind blowing, and it stung against his face. He hastily ran up the stairs and entered the abode.

Link was settled on a bunch of pillows on the floor, slumbering still. Tilieth sat at his head, hands tracing through his hair, gently brushing it while Lady Impa and someone unfamiliar knelt at his side facing toward the door.

Lady Impa glanced up, somber face pulling in surprise at hearing Abel’s entrance, and then she gave a tired smile. “Good morning, Captain. I hope you slept well.”

“What are you doing?” Abel asked.

“This is Kollin, our healer,” Lady Impa said, motioning to the man beside her. “I was speaking with your wife about the situation.”

Abel approached the group slowly, his heart finally slowing to a normal rate. Tilieth smiled up at him.

Staring down at Link, stripped nearly bare, let Abel look his wounds over as well. They didn’t seem much different than they had when they’d left the plateau, but somehow Link at least looked less pale. Also, the pressure wounds from his harness seemed a little better. Something had to be happening.

“His wounds are grievous indeed,” the healer commented as his eyes looked over the boy.

Princess Mipha could’ve healed him, his mind thought, and his heart tore a little at the words. The demure Zora princess had always been a kind, gentle soul. Abel had rarely seen her in battle, but it seemed particularly unfair that she had been dragged into the war and murdered in such a horrifying way. He didn’t know what specifically had happened in the Divine Beasts, but given how the guardians had been taken over and no support had arrived, he could guess well enough.

“Can you do anything?” Tilieth questioned hopefully.

“There are elixirs I could make,” the healer proposed. “He’d have to be awake to ingest them, though. Beyond that, it’s up to him. His wounds are wrapped and cleaned – I cannot change the natural healing process.”

“Your ancestors could,” Abel cut in, crossing his arms. “I’m more concerned about your technology than your healers, Lady Impa. The shrines are healing him. We need to know where they all are.”

Impa sighed. “The best solution would be to repair the Shrine of Resurrection. If it’s damaged… the best ones to fix it would be my sister or Robbie. But as I said yesterday, I haven’t been in contact with them since the Calamity. We were fighting our own war down here, too. The guardians came to Kakariko from the west. They completely destroyed Lakna Rokee Settlement and burned the hillside. We held them off, but… my mother was killed in the fight, and I became chief. I had to help rebuild the village. Purah stayed longer than Robbie, but even she left after a year.”

Abel chewed his tongue a little to hold back the bite in his tone before saying, “The Shrine is destroyed. Link will die before we can hunt anyone down, let alone before it can be repaired. I need to know where the smaller shrines are.”

The Sheikah chief furrowed her brow thoughtfully, her head tipping down to look at Link. The metal adornments of her hat jingled, filling the silence as Abel felt dread bubble in his chest.

“I… don’t know the location of all the shrines,” Lady Impa said slowly. “Not many were apparent before the Calamity. It seems more have appeared since then. I assume that was your doing, based on what Tilieth’s told me.”

Whatever help Abel had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. Why had the king even directed them here? The dread fizzled out, replaced by an ever-growing frustration.

“I can show you the one here,” the chief continued. “And I can try to map out the few I know of that Princess Zelda visited.”

“In the meantime, I’ll make some elixirs for Sir Link,” the healer said, rising. “And perhaps a few for you two as well, for your journey.”

Their journey. Their journey. Abel… had known, yes, that they would be on a journey to find the shrines for Link, but going to Kakariko had seemed a bit more of a main goal, an endpoint that would give them all the information they needed so they could start anew with everything in hand. It had at least promised some sort of guidance and assistance.

Tilieth smiled. “Thank you for your help.”

The former knight almost let out a bitter laugh. Help? What help? Pointing out one or two places we can try to reach in a land scorched by malice and crawling with enemies? Do we even know how many shrines there are?!

He was tempted to ask for at least a warrior escort to assist them, but at this point he didn’t trust them enough to even consider it. Besides, it might attract too much attention, assuming there were people with ill intentions wandering the countryside.

Such as…

“What of the Yiga?” Abel asked suddenly.

Lady Impa stared at him, a little baffled. “The Yiga? What of those traitors?”

“Have you heard anything about their movements?”

The chief shook her head. “No. The whole world was almost destroyed. For once, I think even they are just trying to survive. I hope they were wiped out, honestly.”

As do I. Abel sighed, nodding. “Let’s go to this shrine, then.”

With that, he helped Tilieth dress Link once more and carried him outside. Lady Impa led the group up the cliffs, which allowed for a beautiful view of a good portion of Hyrule. It didn’t boast the same vastness and scope as Tilieth’s favorite perch just outside the Shrine of Resurrection, but it did give Abel a moment of pause.

A moment to remember what it looked like before all this.

Abel had only been to Kakariko Village once before in his life, and it was when he’d been assigned as part of the royal guard that would accompany Princess Zelda to the village. This was before Link had been appointed her knight. She had been fairly young, fourteen or so. The village had seemed so much livelier then. It had also been more populated.

Bitterness swelled inside of him, the same old friend that seemed to accompany him on bad days. He swallowed hard, looking away. When Tilieth slid Link’s hand and the slate across the access pad, Abel walked first into the darkness of the shrine.

Having Lady Impa accompany them down into this new trial was at least different, though he wasn’t sure how helpful it would be. Not that he hadn’t seen the woman fight – Lady Impa was an impressive warrior. He just…

He didn’t trust anyone anymore, he supposed. And at this point, with as little as she could offer, he’d given up on relying on anyone else for assistance.

The voice that reverberated in the chamber spoke a different message this time, leaving the former knight on edge. “To you who sets foot in this shrine… I am Ta’loh Naeg. I share with you my knowledge, that it may please Hylia.”

“That’s… different,” Tilieth noted. “We don’t have to do anything?”

“You usually have to do something?” Lady Impa asked.

“Yes,” Abel answered slowly, lowering Link to the floor. Two chests flanked the entrance, and he hesitantly went to one. He was happily surprised to find a Sheikah blade in it.

Finally, some useful treasure.

“The trial, of course!” Lady Impa clapped her hands together. “Stories say that this shrine held an ancient trial for Sheikah warriors!”

“Maybe you should do it, then?” Tilieth suggested hesitantly, glancing at Abel.

Abel felt his hackles raise, but before he could protest, the chief nodded. Abel stepped forward, but Til put a hand to his chest, somehow managing to put pressure right where his ribs were bruised. He coughed and grimaced immediately, catching her attention.

“Are you hurt?” she asked quietly as Lady Impa walked by, unaware. “We need to talk to the healer.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “But I’ll let her do it. Since apparently I’m too feeble to handle a Sheikah trial now.”

“It’s their tradition,” Tilieth argued hesitantly, expression worried. “And it gives us a break. She’s on our side too, Abel, remember?”

Abel sighed heavily.

As Lady Impa approached the center of the room, the gap in the floor was filled with a rising arena and miniature guardian awaiting her. Abel and Tilieth, despite their aversion to the mechanical beasts, were growing accustomed to the sight in these trials.

He supposed they should have warned the chief about it.

Lady Impa gasped, going rigid, before she charged ahead, slashing viciously at the guardian. Abel squinted, noticing that this one was designed differently from the others, and it did nothing to defend itself. The monk’s voice spoke again, giving fighting instructions.

It’s not a duel, it’s a lesson. Of course. He did say he was trying to impart knowledge.

It was a very basic lesson, though. Lady Impa picked up on it quickly, realizing her attacks were futile but the enemy wasn’t retaliating. She followed the instructions, one by one, until she destroyed the small foe. This time, when it shattered, its blade remained intact, piquing Abel’s curiosity.

After all, such a blade could be useful.

Abel collected the blade while Tilieth collected something from the other chest, plopping it into her pouch.

“We won’t have room to carry all your trinkets, you know,” Abel remarked dully.

Tilieth only smiled and winked.

Abel was the last to reach the final room as he had to pick Link back up, but Lady Impa’s surprised squeal was enough indication that the other two had made it to the monk.

“H-he’s… this is… different,” Impa said, clearly disturbed at the sight of the decomposed Sheikah monk.

“This is normal,” Tilieth explained. “So far, all the shrines have a monk in them at the end. They give Link a Spirit Orb. Watch.”

The monk spoke of a hero rising from the ashes of Hyrule before granting the orb. Link twitched a little, as if when the orb shattered was akin to being splashed with a big raindrop. Abel rested his forehead against the boy’s cheek in reassurance, though he doubted Link could feel it. With that, the group was transported outside, Lady Impa shaking from head to foot.

“What just—?” she tried to question, looking around wildly.

“The shrine kicks you out when you’re done,” Abel quipped, stepping into the grass. “Let’s go. The healer should be ready by now, I imagine.”

“Kollin’s elixirs take some time to m-make,” Lady Impa explained shakily, still getting used to the sensation of being teleported. “B-but—but I imagine he’ll be done by evening.”

Evening?! They were going to lose an entire day? This was absurd. Abel could see another shrine down in the valley from here. He wasn’t going to wait.

“That’s all right,” Tilieth said cheerfully. “I can cook some meals with the ingredients I gathered. Best to have supplies ready for… well, for everything.”

Abel garnered some satisfaction in the way his wife’s voice faltered, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was because she was entirely too chipper about this whole mess. Why wasn’t she as upset as he was, why did she think this was fine? She’d said herself that the Sheikah would be able to—

To what? To fix this issue? What sort of naivete had led Abel to think anyone could fix anything at this point?

Get yourself together, he snapped at himself. They still had an objective; the situation wasn’t entirely hopeless.

He supposed he… had expected more help than this. If the king had mentioned Lady Impa would guide them, then he’d, well…

He’d expected the king to be true to his word. But he wasn’t. And it wasn’t the first time.

The bitterness swelled, roaring like a foul beast, and Abel swallowed hard again, biting his tongue.

Lady Impa and Tilieth were babbling now, speaking of shrines and monks, and Abel found himself too weary to care. He walked down the path back to the village with Link resting comfortably on his back before turning right and heading towards the view of the valley once more. At least here he could enjoy some silence.

The trail led to a large collection of stones, Sheikah names inscribed on them, with one towering above the rest.

A memorial for the Sheikah lost in the Calamity.

Crickets chirped and birds sang, their voices carried in the wind, echoing in the silence of Abel’s mind as words were hard to find at the moment. He remembered the bodies of the Sheikah warriors he’d buried on the Great Plateau, the two who remained to help him defend the Shrine of Resurrection from the guardians who had invaded the sacred place. He remembered Castle Town burning along with the rest of Central Hyrule.

He recalled Link, broken and bloodied nearly beyond recognition.

The smell of ash and smoke filled his nostrils, and his throat tightened. He looked to his right and saw Hyrule once more, its landscape a patchy mixture of green and scorched brown and black. The orange glow of two shrines stood out amidst the scars of the land, and energy filled the former captain of the royal guard.

Marching back into the village, Abel saw Tilieth alone now, standing in the center of town. She smiled brightly when she saw him. “Abel, there you are! Come here, let me hold Link, I want to pray.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Abel said dismissively.

“You need to be more patient,” his wife giggled, seemingly unbothered by this entire day. “It’ll be fast. Besides, you need to eat! I made some breakfast for you, if you want some.”

He couldn’t argue the latter issue as his stomach growled, and so he slowly let Tilieth take their son in exchange for a small meal. He finished it within a couple bites, returning his attention to his family to see Til sitting on the ground in front of the goddess statue, Link’s head in her lap.

The image struck him for some reason. It wasn’t as if Til hadn’t prayed to Hylia many times over the years. Abel himself used to pray to her fairly often. Every once in a while his heart stirred enough to try again when they were on the plateau. But now…

Now it seemed like a giant divine joke.

Princess Zelda was supposedly a descendant of Hylia, an inheritor of the divine power to seal away the darkness. Yet she couldn’t activate it in time.

Link was Hylia’s precious chosen hero, destined to fight the darkness and prevail. Yet she didn’t support him when the time came.

Abel had prayed time and again for his family’s safety. Yet his daughter was dead, his son close to it, and the one thing that could have saved him had been destroyed.

And now… now when he’d finally thought Hylia had shown them a path when things seemed the bleakest… Lady Impa had little to nothing to give.

“We need to leave,” he said curtly, eyes darkening.

“Oh, Abel,” Tilieth huffed, a little exasperated.

And that was what did it.

The bitterness and pain swirling in his gut returned with a searing passion, and fire spilled form his mouth. “Don’t talk to me in such a patronizing tone like I’m the child between the two of us. I’m the one who has been trying to keep everyone alive. I’m not the fool who runs about giggling like this is a game. I don’t place hope in false goddesses who only seem to take pleasure in torturing us, and I'm not as idiotic as you’re choosing to be! How can you just sit there and be fine with all of this? Do you even care about Link?! Why do I have to be the one to push to move forward, to—to—”

Words became increasingly difficult, choked out in a rage that was steadily growing along with his tone of voice. The area grew unnaturally quiet as Tilieth seemed to shrivel under his shadow.

His wife watched him, eyes wide, face stricken, tears steadily spilling, cheeks flushed. “You think—what makes you think I don’t—Abel—”

“Don’t even argue with me about it, it’s true!” Abel continued, even though his mind and heart had taken a distinct change in tone. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself anymore, like he knew what he was doing was wrong, but it was already happening and it was akin to a boulder making its way down a mountain. “You pray and you pray, and you speak to the winds, and you place hope in people who have no right to it, and you act as if everything is fine when it’s not!!”

He couldn’t bear to be in this village any longer, couldn’t bear to continue this conversation any longer, couldn’t bear to see Tilieth look so hurt, couldn’t bear to feel so hurt. He turned sharply on his heel, finding Ama grazing lazily and mounting her before tearing out of the area entirely.

The rain began anew, pelting against his face, making him shiver and ache, but he pushed Ama to run all the harder. His surroundings blurred as he steadily grew soaked, his steed couldn’t run fast enough, his heart couldn’t beat hard enough, the rain wasn’t loud enough, he wasn’t angry enough, nothing was enough—

The rain stopped, bringing forth sunlight, startling him into focus just in time to realize where his horse had taken him.

Blatchery Plain.

Abel’s breathing sped up until it started to hitch, one hiccup after another. He shakily slid off Ama and walked amidst the carnage, his body trembling from head to toe.

The guardians stood all around, frozen in that final moment in time, a testament to the princess’ divine power.

All Abel could see was how much it must have hurt. How terrifying it must have been. How much Link must have been hoping Abel would arrive as promised and save him.

Hyperventilating gave way to sobs, and Abel collapsed onto his hands and knees.

Goddess above, what he wouldn’t give to get Link and Lyra back, what he wouldn’t give to prevent the Calamity from ever happening, what he wouldn’t give to never feel like this again.

Why? Why?!

Abel cried until he had no tears left, until it hurt to breathe let alone weep, until he felt so utterly drained he might as well have been awake for a month. Something soft and warm nuzzled him, neighing and grunting softly, and he blindly reached up to stroke Ama’s face. The horse pushed against him again and Abel leaned into it, wrapping both arms around her neck as he tried to get some control over himself. The horse, despite being tamed only recently, was surprisingly patient in the hold, and it gave Abel the grounding he needed to finally regulate his breathing.

When he stood, he huffed out a wet, tired chuckle, petting the horse’s neck. “Thank you, girl.”

The horse huffed, bobbing and headbutting him gently in the chest, and Abel suddenly realized that this was not, in fact, Ama.

Ama was a black mare, with hair that was dark like the night sky. While this steed had charcoal hair, it was longer, with a dark chestnut coat save for white around its hooves.

There was a small scar on its front left shoulder, distinctly patterned, a downward circular slice as if a curved blade had tried to cut it.

Curved like a Yiga sickle. The only curved blade Abel was really familiar with.

Abel blinked. Stared at the scar, the familiar scar on the familiar horse.

“Epona…?” he breathed, looking up into the horse’s brown eyes.

The mare’s ears perked forward and she whinnied softly, tail flicking in acknowledgement. Ama roamed behind her, grazing.

Hylia above, it… it was Epona. This was Link’s horse.

How had…? Abel shook his head. He wasn’t going to question it.

And with that thought, shame immediately filled him. Because he… had questioned everything. Again and again and again. More than that, though, he knew without a doubt that he’d hurt Tilieth.

Abel glanced at the sky. He… couldn’t say thank you, but he would at least temper the bitter thoughts in his mind. Maybe this was actually a good sign, after all.

He didn’t dare hope, but…

“It’s good to see you again, girl,” he finally settled for saying. Epona bumped her head against him once more. “Let’s get you to your rider.”

XXX

Tilieth sat on the ground alone.

When soft footsteps approached her, she didn’t bother to look up and acknowledge them.

“Tilieth…?”

The voice belonged to Impa.

Tilieth just stared at Link, hands tangled in his hair, breaths shaky but regular.

“I, uh…” Impa continued somewhat awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry? What was she sorry for? This wasn’t her fault. None of it was any of their faults.

Til wished Abel would just understand that.

Her heart ached and burned. She felt so unbelievably alone in that moment, despite the comfort the Sheikah chief was trying to offer. Tilieth had always been surrounded by love and support her entire life until the Calamity, and then all she’d had was her husband.

And now even he was leaving her.

That’s not true and you know it, she reminded herself, despite tears beginning to spill out of her eyes, despite the way her breath started to hitch.

Why couldn’t Abel understand? Tilieth had been terrified to leave the Plateau, and yet he was upset at her for trying to find joy and hope wherever they went? Why couldn’t he just—why did he have to be—

Tilieth cried, leaning over her son.

“Look, I—I don’t know you, but,” Impa stumbled over her words clumsily, hand resting comfortingly on Til’s back. “But I can see how much you love Link, how much you want to help him. I… I know he’ll be in good hands since he’s with you.”

Tilieth wished she could thank her for her kindness, but words never came to her in these moments. She often hated that, hated that she had passed it on to Link.

Link’s silence leading up to the Calamity had been twofold and Tilieth had known it. Sure, he’d been stoic and calm just like his father, but underneath she could see the anxiety. Abel was quiet in his worries, too, but he’d take them out through anger and work. Link did that too, but also, like Til, he just shut down.

It didn’t make a difference now, she supposed, but she wished dearly she knew how to stop it. Impa at least deserved acknowledgement.

But Tilieth was so tired. She was so tired of having to hunt for hope and light, of having to be the one to bring it to everyone else. Why couldn’t others find joy in the world too and share it with her? Why did Abel have to be the way he was?

Why did any of this have to be the way it was? Why couldn’t Link just wake up, why couldn’t Lyra just be alive, why couldn’t her father be here to help her still?

“Why… why don’t we just go back to my home?” Impa offered. “Or—or the inn?”

Tilieth really just wanted a hug from her loved ones, honestly, but the kindness Impa was offering still warmed her heart. She nodded, sniffling, and let Impa pick up her son.

“Huh. I never expected Link to be so light,” Impa muttered, staring at him. “I mean, he’s so muscular and all. Or, well…”

He had been, yes. Before he’d started fading away into death’s embrace after the Shrine had been damaged. His muscles were still there, but much smaller, and he’d definitely started to lose weight.

Tilieth burst into tears anew.

“O-oh—uh, it’s okay!” Impa hastily said. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Impa sighed as Tilieth tried to control herself.

“I… I really am sorry,” Impa repeated, her voice much less frantic now. “Link’s my friend. I hate seeing him like this too. But… but I do mean what I said. I know you care about him and that he’s in good hands. It makes me feel better to know you’re taking care of him.”

“Y-you…” Tilieth tried to push the words out of her tight throat, rubbing her face to wipe the tears away. “You two were friends?”

“Yeah!” Impa eagerly answered, nodding. “We traveled a little bit together. One time I dared Link to eat a whole roast pig at one of the feasts people provided for the princess and he did it! Another time while we were traveling, he let me put flowers in his hair to cheer up the princess.”

The image of Link with flowers in his hair made Tilieth giggle. She tried to latch on to the idea, to the sweetness of the memory, the gentle love in the gesture, rather than the thought that she would never see such a scene. Her gaze returned to the statue of Hylia.

Oh, Hylia. I… I’m sorry to ask, but please… just… help us. I know you’ve been looking out for us, and I apologize to ask for more, but…

The breeze changed directions, blowing the scent of flowers towards her, and Tilieth sighed, her tears steadily drying.

Link coughed in Impa’s hold, startling both women.

“Guess some pollen got in his nose,” Impa offered feebly with a small laugh. “Let’s get to the inn.”

Tilieth sighed, following the chief. When they entered she watched Impa gently lay Link on one of the beds.

“Kollin will be able to help with the elixirs,” Impa said reassuringly with a smile. “He’s an excellent healer, I promise. He patched me up after the Calamity.”

Tilieth nodded, sitting on the bed. Impa watched her a while longer and then wrung her hands a little nervously.

“Is there… is there anything else I can do?” Impa offered. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“It’s okay,” Tilieth said, finding her voice once more. “I don’t… please don’t take Abel’s anger to heart. He…”

He what? She didn’t really know. Abel had a horrible habit of not expressing himself well, far worse than Tilieth when her emotions got the best of her. Her issue was that she couldn’t control her emotions when they overwhelmed her, while he refused to even acknowledge them.

She supposed some of this was her fault, then. She hadn’t checked in with him. But she’d…

Frustration bubbled within her. She naturally tried to take care of others, her intuition helped her break through to Abel at the start of their acquaintance and extended their relationship beyond friendship. But didn’t she deserve something in return?

Of course you do, and you’ve gotten that, she reminded herself, her chest tightening, her eyes watering once more. She couldn’t even begin to count the nights she’d spent sobbing in Abel’s arms when they’d first settled on the Great Plateau. She couldn’t recall how many times he’d told her it would be all right, that Link was safe now, that he would protect her and their son.

She hated this. She hated needing the comfort and not giving it back when she usually did. She hated that Abel was so upset and wouldn’t reach out, that she had to be the one to initiate it when she too was hurting. She hated that she’d let Abel be her stability when she hadn’t done the same for him. She hated that she had done the same and it wasn’t enough. She hated this entire situation.

She just wished things could go back to the way they were. She’d take the status quo on the Great Plateau over this.

But she couldn’t go back, and she knew that. So she had to find hope where she could. Because she couldn’t live without hope; she refused to.

Abel seemed to view her hope as some kind of weakness, as a childish thing, but her desire for it and her seeking and clinging it took more energy and strength than anything in her life.

Impa had apparently excused herself at some point, as Tilieth suddenly found the room mostly empty. The innkeeper was pointedly keeping herself busy with cleaning the other side of the building.

Tilieth sat on the bed alone.

The door to the inn opened, but she didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, she turned her attention to Link. When was the last time he’d awakened? Ah, that’s right, he’d had a few sips of water yesterday in the morning. He really hadn’t eaten much of anything at all the entire time he’d been out of the Shrine—the first time he’d woken up they’d had some broth ready, but he’d only had a sip or two—and it was beginning to worry her. She could see how his hair was dry and damaged, his lips cracked, how his skin pulled more easily than it should have. He was dehydrated and undernourished, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Link’s waking moments were so rare and unpredictable, it left her anxious just thinking about it. How would they even get elixirs in him?

“Why are you here?”

Tilieth jumped, startled, and looked up to see the warrior they’d met at the Dueling Peaks Stable. The young woman watched her with piercing eyes that held an intensity to them, reminding her strikingly of Link and Abel, though the girl’s were brown instead of the boys’ cerulean blue.

“I—Lady Impa suggested it,” Tilieth answered uncertainly.

“Why are you in Kakariko?” the warrior clarified, her tone unchanging from its monotone, interrogative manner.

“W-we…” Til glanced at Link, and fear ate at her heart all of a sudden. Kakariko Village was a refuge, but this warrior felt nearly belligerent all of a sudden. She tried to think if she’d done something offensive, or if the warrior had given some kind of sign of mal intent back at the stable, but all she’d done was show some kind of possible surprise at seeing them before abruptly leaving.

Wait. She probably recognized Link. All the Sheikah knew of the Hero, after all. They probably all knew he was supposed to be in the Shrine of Resurrection, too. Perhaps Impa hadn’t told everyone.

Did that mean she wasn’t supposed to tell everyone? They were walking around with Link in broad daylight. That seemed unlikely. She supposed this warrior hadn’t figured it out yet, then.

“The Shrine was broken,” Tilieth explained. “We came here for help.”

The warrior crossed her arms. “You won’t get much help here. Sheikah keep to themselves.”

Tilieth watched her hesitantly, curiosity bubbling in her. This young woman wore Sheikah clothes but clearly was a Hylian. It was a little confusing. Instead of letting her curiosity get the best of her, though, she asked, “Where should we go, then?”

The Sheikah warrior paused as if to consider, gaze drifting over to Link, and her eyes softened. “Nearly all of Hyrule is destroyed. But I heard that one tribe was least affected due to their location. You should go to the Gerudo Desert.”

“The Gerudo Desert?” That was so far from here!

“They have strong warriors,” the woman continued, staring at Til once more. “There are no major Hylian towns anymore. They’re all gone. Zora’s Domain is hostile, Death Mountain inaccessible, and no one has heard anything from the Rito. But I know for a fact the Gerudo were mostly unscathed. If I were looking for sanctuary for my son to heal, I’d go there.”

“You think the Sheikah wouldn’t let us stay here to rest?” Tilieth questioned carefully, not really believing such a statement but wondering why this woman seemed to think so.

“They’ll let you stay all you like,” the warrior replied. “But they won’t lift a finger for you outside of this village. If rest is all he needs, then by all means, let him stay.”

“You know the Sheikah went to the Great Plateau with him,” Tilieth informed her, a little bemused. “They helped seal him away so he could heal, they fought guardians to protect him.”

“And they died,” the warrior said coldly. “Alongside many other Sheikah.”

“Alongside everyone,” Tilieth corrected quietly, looking at the ground.

“Not everyone,” the warrior suddenly snapped, making Tilieth shoot a startled look at her. The warrior glared for a moment longer before looking away. “Not everyone. But they don’t care about that anymore. They did their search and rescue, they picked up what pieces they could, and then they just hunkered down and stopped caring about the rest of the world.”

“You… sound like you don’t like them,” Tilieth noted hesitantly.

“They’re my family,” the warrior replied with a strange dull heaviness to her tone. “That doesn’t mean I don’t disagree with their thinking. What is it you need for your son?”

“He… needs Spirit Orbs. We can collect them from the shrines. Do you… do you know where more shrines are? Like the one up on the hill? They’re the only thing that can heal him.”

“I’ve seen those shrines everywhere lately,” the warrior answered. “But they weren’t there before. Hopefully they don’t move before he can get to them.”

Well, at least Tilieth knew that wasn’t going to happen. They didn’t move, they were just unearthed by Abel and the slate.

The warrior shifted, growing less stern and asking in a softer tone, “Does… does he ever wake up?”

Tilieth smiled sadly. “Once every day or so. If we’re lucky we can make sure he drinks something. But it’s… not…”

Not enough.

The warrior slowly made her way to the other side of the bed, staring at Link. Tilieth watched her keenly, wondering where this sudden gentleness came from. The woman seemed to be a swinging pendulum, one moment harsh and the next kind. She looked so young – Tilieth wondered if this behavior was simply the product of growing up in such a world. She couldn’t have been more than twenty. Tilieth remembered her own life at that age and it was… vastly different.

“What’s your name?” Tilieth asked quietly.

The warrior didn’t acknowledge her for a moment, still watching Link, before she closed her eyes with a shuddering breath. “Sheik.”

It was certainly a curious name. Tilieth wondered if the girl herself had chosen it, as a Hylian being raised by the Sheikah tribe.

Sheik reached down slowly, hesitantly, her hand setting on Link’s shoulder. Tilieth grew a little tense but didn’t stop her.

Link’s eyes opened.

Sheik and Tilieth both jumped, caught off guard, and Sheik retracted her hand as if she’d been burned. Tilieth didn’t bother acknowledging it, instead scrambling for her bag to get some food in him. She requested hastily, “Can you get the healer, please? This might be the only chance we get to give him elixirs!”

Sheik nodded after a moment’s hesitation, rushing outside. Tilieth managed to sit Link up a little and got him to have some stew, and she was surprised at how long he stayed awake and how he actually even managed to try and chew some of the food, though it had all been pureed for him to drink.

He… he hadn’t done that before.

“Link…?” Tilieth tried hesitantly, hopefully.

Her son stared off at nothing, and she sighed.

The door burst open, making Til nearly jump out of her skin and spilling the rest of the food on the blanket. Impa and the healer, Kollin, were there in an instant.

“He’s awake?!” Impa said breathlessly.

“It won’t last long,” Tilieth explained quickly. “Please, the elixir—”

“Right here,” Kollin cut in, offering a half-filled bottle. “I didn’t have time to make everything, but it’s something.”

Tilieth nearly yanked the bottle out of his hands, turning back just to see that Link had fallen back asleep.

She could practically feel the chill in the room as everyone’s hope and urgency shattered. She blinked rapidly against the tears that sprang up, lowering Link to the pillow and fiddling anxiously with the bottle.

Sheik approached silently, staring at Link, and then kicked the bed frame, jostling him.

“What are you—” Til almost snapped when Link startled awake once more.

He—he was awake again?

Wait, what? He never woke more than once in a day!

“The elixir, hurry!” Impa insisted, waving a hand. Sheik sat Link up, directing his head towards Tilieth. He clearly didn’t really notice the jostling, but he was still awake.

Tilieth hastily uncorked the bottle before slowing her movements so she wouldn’t make him choke on it. Link drank tiredly, clearly running out of stamina, but he got half the contents in before starting to cough and forcing her to pull away.

“You need more Spirit Orbs,” Sheik muttered.

“So that’s… that’s how he’s been?” Impa asked.

Tilieth nodded, lowering the elixir bottle to her lap.

Everyone watched Link a moment before Kollin piped up. “Why don’t you take a break? Sir Link drank some elixir, let him rest.”

Sheik glanced back at the healer before lowering Link to the pillow once more.

“Well…” Impa started uncertainly before catching Til’s attention and smiling. “I was going to work on a plum garden I wanted to plant. Maybe you can help me?”

Tilieth stared at her, dumbfounded. The thought of letting Link out of her sight when Abel wasn’t around was incomprehensible, if not ridiculous. But they were in Kakariko Village. They were safe.

Link’s safe.

“I… yes,” she said slowly, as if such a thing were novel, as if gardening hadn’t been a necessity she’d handled on the Plateau.

But it was different. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t alone. She was helping someone else garden, she was helping create something in a village full of people. There was an entire community here. A safe community, where Link could rest without worry of danger, where Tilieth could just be with others and enjoy herself and work on a project for the sake of working on a project and not because her family would starve to death without her efforts.

A smile slowly spread across her face, and she spoke with more conviction. “Yes. I can help.”

Despite the overcast nature of the day, Tilieth couldn’t feel warmer and more comforted as she went outside and dug her hands through the soil. They were nearly finished with the garden when a Sheikah rushed over to say someone was in labor, and Kollin and Impa had gone to assist. Tilieth completed the project, wiping the dirt from her hands, and decided to wander the village a bit, basking in its simple beauty, relishing the fact that, for the first time in a decade, she felt like she was a part of a community once more.

Some exploring yielded excitement that not only brought her joy but also grounded her back in her current situation. A korok was hiding amidst a few little statues, gifting her a seed and an armful of apples. A woman was seeking to rebuild her clothing boutique – though there were no visitors to Kakariko, she still wished to make clothes for others, and she assisted Tilieth in working with a half-finished garment to make a tunic for Link. It was colorful and beautiful, resembling a traveler’s attire from Hateno. Tilieth’s heart ached at the sight of it, but she was also satisfied with it. At least now Link had clothes that would fit him properly, and perhaps even keep him a little warmer. The leather belts and pauldron would also lend some protection.

The village was getting together to celebrate the birth of a baby girl by the evening, and Tilieth went to check on Link, when she heard the sound of a horse galloping and neighing.

Tilieth stiffened, knowing who it had to be. She had managed to get to the inn before Abel’s return, so it might buy some time as he looked for her. She wasn’t entirely sure she really needed it. She’d calmed significantly since his outburst. But…

She still didn’t want to deal with this. Not now. She was having a good day. Link was having a good day. And…

The door slid open. Feet shuffled inside.

The room was uncomfortably quiet. The innkeeper shifted awkwardly before exiting the building entirely, joining the festivities elsewhere.

“I’m sorry,” Abel started softly, simply. “I… what I said was… I know you care about Link. I know you love him more than anything. I’m sorry.”

The wound in Tilieth’s heart wanted her to push back, to argue, but it was a small wound, steadily shrinking in size.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, though it had been a good while. Abel would be fine, fine, fine until he suddenly wasn’t. There were ques, but Til had missed them, as she herself had been dealing with everything too. She remembered, years ago, before the Calamity, when Abel had apologized for an outburst, and she’d actually been able to ask him why he acted in such a manner.

I… it’s my responsibility to take care of you, of our children, of the royal family. I suppose sometimes… I’m not as strong as I need to be. And it bothers me.

There was more to it than that, she was sure, and despite how much she had tried to reassure him… well. The Calamity had happened.

Tilieth sighed.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly.

“No. It isn’t.” Abel argued.

Tilieth felt her chest tighten. Why did her husband always have to be so aggressive anyway? She was trying to let the subject go.

Abel walked towards her, and she sighed tiredly, wondering if he would turn this into another fight. He hesitated a moment before sitting on the bed with her, hand moving to her face and directing her chin to look at him.

“You’re doing everything you can to help Link. You’ve gone through more than anyone should have to and you’re… you’re still trying to find the good in the situation, still trying to be optimistic. It certainly does more good than… you’re strong and wonderful, Til. I’m sorry.”

Til’s throat tightened up once more, and she couldn’t push words out, so instead she leaned in to her husband, who held her gently. She promised to tell him how wonderful he was later, when she was able. But for now, she let herself relax in the safe embrace, crying and holding him in return.

The moment was interrupted when Abel stiffened abruptly. “Til—Til get the food, Link’s awake—”

Tilieth’s eyes opened quickly, and she stared at their son. Link was indeed awake again, though not focusing on anything in particular. She swallowed hard, heart racing, and choked out, “Honey, he—he ate earlier, and drank some elixir, he’s—he’s waking up more—”

“He what?” Abel gasped, releasing her and reaching towards Link. “Link? Link, can you hear me?”

“I… I don’t know if he can,” Til explained uncertainly. “But he is more arousable. Sheik woke him up too.”

“Sheik?” Abel repeated, glancing at her. “The warrior from before?”

Til stared at him. “Wait, you—you spoke with her too?”

“Back at the stable,” Abel answered dismissively. “She… well, she saved me from an archer.”

Til stood, adrenaline spiking. “So you did get into a fight! I knew you were hurt! Abel, why didn’t you tell me?”

Abel turned to her sharply but caught himself and sighed instead. “I didn’t want to slow us down.”

Til grabbed the remainder of the elixir she’d tried to give to Link and held it out to her husband. He wordlessly took it and drank. The relief on his face was instantly apparent, and he relaxed his posture, seeming to sink more into the bed. Then he shifted his focus back to Link, but the boy was asleep once more.

“He’s been doing that,” Tilieth noted. “That’s the third time he’s woken up today.”

“The third time?” Abel repeated, surprised.

Tilieth smiled, running a hand over her husband’s head, gently untangling knots in his hair. “Yes. He’s getting better, Abel. It… it will be all right.”

Abel leaned in to the touch, resting his hands on her hips and pulling her back to him. Til sat beside him, letting him bury his head in her shoulder as she held him. Then excitement bubbled within her, triggered by Link’s awakening and the end of the tension between the couple.

Til pulled away gently but steadily, catching Abel’s attention, and she smiled at him cheerfully. “I made Link clothes. I haven’t had time to cook much, but I can make some dinner for us for the journey, and—the village is celebrating the birth of a baby, so we should enjoy that too!”

Abel watched her a moment, blinking and registering what she’d said, and he chuckled breathily. “Well, I mapped out more on the slate, and marked a few shrines. And… I found another horse. Or, well, she found me.”

“Another—you—the map—you went to a tower?”

“Yes, but—but come look, Til,” Abel insisted, rising and taking her by the hand.

The pair went outside, though they stopped at the entrance to the inn as Abel didn’t want to leave Link unattended for long. He whistled briefly, and Til saw Ama trot over, alongside—

“Epona!” she gasped. “That’s Epona!”

Epona nickered, ears perked forward, and she covered the extra distance to the couple while Ama huffed a small distance from the inn. Link’s horse paused at the stairs to the inn and cautiously put a hoof on a wooden step, eager to reach the pair. Tilieth laughed, clear and light and echoing in the air, and she ran down to meet the steed, hugging her neck. Epona swished her tail, turning her head a little so it nuzzled the back of Til’s, and she felt her heart soar.

“How did you find her?” she asked, not letting go.

“I didn’t,” Abel answered from the inn’s doorway. “I told you, she found me.”

“Oh, honey,” Til cooed into the mare’s mane. “You survived.” Then she burst away, even more energized, and looked at Abel in delight. “Hon, this is—we should celebrate! I can’t believe—this is so wonderful!”

Abel’s smile was warm and, dare she say it, hopeful, and he nodded. There was no way she wasn’t dragging him to the village’s festivities now. The discussion with Sheik, plans for their trip, talk of Gerudo Town, even cooking provisions could wait until later. She just wanted to bask in this joy now, her first feeling of freedom and joy, her hope strengthened and revitalized and rewarded.

They were going to be alright.

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