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Link couldn’t bring himself to let his guard down the entire way from the castle to Kakariko. It didn’t matter that he’d cleared just about every guardian in the castle outskirts and Hyrule Field before he went in after the Calamity; it didn’t matter that his sword was humming with power and that he was still in his best armor, or that both he and the princess were on horseback.
It felt too easy. It had been the hardest battle of his life, it had cost him no fewer than three fairies and half a dozen bottles of assorted potions during the battle and then two more after, he’d slept for thirteen solid hours in the first half-decent shelter the two of them could stumble to… and it felt too easy.
It felt unreal.
So Link kept his eyes on the road as they traveled, and every monster went down with an arrow before the two Hylians could even be noticed. Zelda was too distracted to even notice half the time, enchanted with the breeze and the sky and the royal white stallion he’d caught for her, months and months ago.
She definitely noticed when they started to approach Kakariko, though, and perked up, suddenly leveling a laser focus on him. “Link? Where are we going?”
He almost smiled, and glanced over to sign one-handed, Impa.
Her eyes went wide, and a smile broke out across her face. “Impa? Impa’s okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she jostled the reins of her horse a little, fidgeting in her excitement, and then added, “Oh, of course, you don’t remember the sign you used to use- it was-” She made a sign Link interpreted as I-Spell. “She was pleased; you don’t always give such, ah, respectful names.”
Link shrugged, feeling his tension ratchet up uncomfortably, and just turned to encourage his horse to continue on towards Kakariko. He didn’t know how to tell Zelda that he didn’t want to call Impa I-Spell; sign names were things he gave to friends, and Impa’s name was short. Fingerspelling was fine.
“She must have changed so much after all these years,” Zelda continued on, unbothered, an edge like the threat of tears to her voice. “Sheikah live long lives of course, but goodness… goodness. Does she have children, Link?”
He bit down a sigh and looked over again, letting go of the reins to sign briefly, A grandchild, before picking them back up.
Zelda made a soft, hurt sound of sympathy. “Oh, poor Impa… what’s their name?”
Paya. A granddaughter. She stutters. I like her.
They continued like that the rest of the way in to Kakariko Village, Link eventually resorting to nudging his horse along with his knees as he answered her barrage of questions. He couldn’t keep up his terse demeanor forever; even just looking at Zelda softened the line of his shoulders, her face smudged with dirt from the road, wearing his doublet over the bare shoulders of her dress to keep her warm, forgetting every few seconds to keep a hold of her horse’s reins.
It was easy to understand why so many people loved her so much.
A few people turned to watch as they rode through, and Link waved to the ones that waved back, but didn’t move to stop until they reached the inn. He dismounted, then tied his horse to the post outside and held out his hand for Zelda’s. She gave them to him without hesitation, and he tied her horse as well before offering his hand again, helping her to get down.
When they started toward Impa’s house, Dorian and Cado were both there, already smiling broadly.
“You did it,” Dorian croaked, his voice worn thin with feeling; Link could only imagine the relief of knowing his daughters would grow up without the threat of the Calamity hanging over them. “Master Link- thank you. My goddess, thank you.”
“Your majesty,” Cado added, sweeping into a brief and awkward bow to Zelda before grinning at Link. “Head right on in, Sir Link. Lady Impa has been so excited, she can barely keep her hat on!”
Link couldn’t bring himself to smile back, and just offered a shallow nod in return before the two parted, allowing him and Zelda to head up the stairs. She twisted around to smile at the two of them before they moved on, trusting Link to guide her by the hand safely up the steps.
At the door, Link knocked twice, and then stepped aside, gesturing for Zelda to go first.
Zelda did without hesitation, almost barging through the door in her excitement, and Link waited for a moment before he followed.
Impa was in her usual place; a book had fallen from her hands, and she was staring at Zelda with wide eyes. Zelda was staring back, hands clasped, beaming so hard that tears were glimmering in the corners of her eyes.
Link shut the door quietly behind him and stayed where he was. His eyes found Paya on the stairs, hand over her mouth, but as if she sensed his gaze, she looked at him and beamed, nodding furiously as if she had no other way to express her happiness. He smiled wanly back, and then looked back at the other two as Impa finally spoke.
“…Zelda? Is that really you?”
“Yes, Impa,” Zelda said, tender and gentle. “It’s me.”
Impa let out a choked sound, and then said, “You’re just as beautiful as I remember you to be. Come here, princess, it’s been far too long. Far, far too long. You’ve been so brave. So wonderfully brave…”
Zelda laughed, cracked with feeling, and rushed forward, accepting the hug that Impa was already offering. It was tight and lingering, and Link could see tears on both their faces.
It seemed to last forever, Impa starting to rock Zelda gently, and Link waited patiently, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves.
Finally, Impa let go, gesturing at the floor in front of her. “Sit down, my dear, sit down, you must have so many questions, we have so very much to talk about…” Zelda did, laughing a little, leaning forward in clear adoration, and Impa smiled at her, broad and warm.
She hadn’t even looked at Link. Link nodded to himself, suspicions confirmed, and looked up at Paya, staring until she glanced up and caught his eye.
You know where to find me, he signed, feeling oddly hollowed-out and exhausted. She looked confused for a moment, and then glanced at Impa, softened, and nodded, unmistakably sympathetic.
Link turned around, and slipped out just as silently as he’d arrived.
Koko was where she always was this time of day, sitting by the fire outside the general store, trying to decide what to make Cottla for dinner. She perked up as soon as she spotted him, waving furiously to catch his attention, and he relaxed a little as he headed toward her.
“Link, Link, Link!” the excited child chanted, bouncing in place, and he waved indulgently for her to go on. “Can you teach me a recipe for Cottla? Please please? For Cottla!”
Koko always seemed to think that was all the justification anything needed. Link chuckled softly and opened up his slate, flicking idly through it, and Koko squealed in premature triumph. He picked a dish of prepared salmon meuniere from his inventory and tilted it to show Koko, who squealed again.
“That looks so yummy!” she crooned in delight, and gave him big puppy eyes like she didn’t know he’d give in the second she asked. “Will you please teach me how to make it, Mister Link?”
Link nodded, feeling the tension ease out of him by the moment, and spent the next few minutes showing Koko the different ingredients – the butter, the wheat flour, the whole salmon he’d butcher and clean for her before they began, a few herbs and spices he liked to add and the carrots and greens they’d throw in for fun.
It had been just over six months since he’d began his journey when Koko first shyly asked him to teach her a new recipe, and she hadn’t passed up a single opportunity since. Dorian was starting to complain about all the ingredients she was asking for, but Link knew he was secretly proud.
As he should be; Koko was skilled enough that Link trusted her to do a lot of the work herself. He passed her the carrots to chop up while he started to clean the fish, efficiently de-scaling it with his hunting knife, and even her chatter died down as the two of them focused on their respective tasks. It was peaceful and familiar, and Link relished it while it lasted.
Koko didn’t know about the Calamity, but she knew about cooking, the truth about her mother, about caring for her family and about the panic attack he’d once had after he burned his forearm on the cooking pot.
They were almost done by the time Paya led Zelda to them, and Link lifted one hand in a vague wave, most of his attention on Koko and the cooking pot. Koko didn’t even notice their approach, too focused on the fish sizzling away in the cast iron.
“Link, you didn’t have to leave,” Zelda said, a clear tone of concern in her voice, Paya just a step behind her looking bashful and uncertain.
That caught Koko’s attention, wide eyes snapping up from the pot straight to Zelda. “You sound like the voice Mister Link uses to talk with!” she blurted out.
Zelda started a little, then turned her attention on Koko and smiled gently. She was still wrapped up in Link’s doublet. “I recorded those lines for him,” she replied, with a trace of affectionate pride. “My name is Zelda. What’s yours?”
“I’m Koko!” Koko replied cheerfully. “Link is teaching me how to make a yummy salmon dish for Dad and Cottla!”
“Th-th-that’s n-nice,” Paya murmured, tapping her fingers together even as she gave Koko a small smile. “I-if Link is t-teaching you, it must be, be, be g-good.” Despite her stutter, her voice was warm and sincere.
Link clicked his tongue until Zelda looked at him, and then signed, Can you tell Koko she’s almost done? As soon as the salmon is cooked it’ll be ready.
“Link says you’re nearly finished,” Zelda relayed without hesitation, making Koko look at her with wide eyes. “You only need to finish cooking the salmon through.”
Koko nodded furiously, and then made sad round eyes at Link. “Aren’t you going to stay for dinner, Mister Link?” she all but begged. He smiled a little, shook his head, and patted her knee before he stood, regretfully ignoring her disappointed moan. He was a little disappointed too; a part of him had hoped Impa would keep Zelda busy enough for him to visit properly with Koko and her family.
He turned back to the two girls and signed, Are we staying the night or did you want to leave right away? I suppose Hateno isn’t too far from here on horseback.
What are you talking about? Zelda asked, the concern in her expression deepening noticeably. A brief glance at Koko, focused on her meal again, and she beckoned him towards the tables beside the general store, where they could sit down, Link and Paya on one side and Zelda on the other. We’re not going anywhere, why would you- She cut herself off, shaking her head and her hands dismissively, and then restarted. Didn’t you want to speak to Impa?
Link shrugged uncomfortably. I just brought you here so you two could talk. I don’t really have any business with her.
Don’t have any business? Zelda mirrored, looking oddly stumped. She looked at Link, to Paya as if for an explanation, and then back to Link, clearly lost. You just defeated the Calamity. Don’t you want to share that moment with her? You must have grown closer over the course of your journey, she’s one of the few people who knew you before!
All of the heaviness that had dissolved from Link’s body while he cooked with Koko came flooding back. He shrugged again.
Paya cleared her throat quietly, somehow managing to draw both their attention at once. She flinched, but forged on bravely, looking at Zelda. They’re not really close. I’ve only ever seen them together long enough for Grandmother to point Link in the right direction.
Surprise and a little distress flooded Zelda’s expression, but she rallied bravely, trying to smile at Link. Well, what better time to remedy that than now? Neither of you are going to be busy for a while, we could spend a few days here before we move on-
I don’t want to, Link interrupted before he could think better of it, and then curled his fists against the table, already regretting it.
You don’t want to, Zelda repeated back, expression flat and blank, and then deflated, searching his face while he did his best to avoid her eyes, fixing on her hands. Did something happen? Did- did Impa do something?
She was still using I-Spell.
Impa is not my friend, Link signed at last, not sure if he was protesting the sign name or the idea of spending time with her. She’s good. She’s kind and helpful and loyal. She’s not my friend.
Pause.
Can you explain what you mean by that? Zelda asked at last, careful and deliberate.
Link grunted, soft and frustrated, and repeated helplessly, She’s not my friend.
Impa had been far kinder than him than one needed to be to someone they didn’t much care for, had given him time when he asked and his memories when she thought he was ready. She had laid out the broad strokes of his journey when he was lost. And so he didn’t understand why her apathy hurt so much.
He looked to Paya for help, and for once she didn’t falter, though he could see the internal conflict churning behind her eyes. After a moment, Zelda looked at her too, silently begging for understanding.
Paya squirmed, not looking at either of them, but eventually she signed, slow and stilted, He’s right. I don’t think Grandmother cares about him very much.
Link could see Zelda’s instinctive denial, her dawning alarm, and he could just as easily see her swallow it down. What makes you say that? she asked, as hesitantly as if she were afraid of the answer.
Paya looked a little lost herself now.
I mean… Paya faltered, at a loss for words in a way that usually didn’t happen for her in sign, and then shrugged helplessly. She didn’t even ask if he was okay. Ever.
Zelda stared at her, oddly devastated, and then looked at Link for confirmation. He shrugged.
It was true. Not once: not when he first arrived, lost and frightened, his tight skin throbbing from the ordeal of changing into a new shirt. Not when he returned from getting the final photo memory, shaking with phantom pain and false adrenaline, or after he captured the last divine beast, when it was from the damage the Thunderblight had done to his nerves.
And not that day, when his chest had felt heavier with every step he took toward Impa’s home, and he didn’t even try to catch her attention.
Impa was not mean. She was not cruel or heartless, or really anything less than warm with him. But she was not his friend.
Zelda looked between them for a few moments longer, like she thought they might be playing a particularly awful joke on them, and then seemed to accept it. She closed her eyes, nodded, and took a breath.
“You used to be friends,” she said out loud, very quietly, and when she opened her eyes again she looked so tired that Link felt guilty.
Link had woken without any memory at all, stumbling into a world that was at once alien and familiar, and it had left him clinging to any stability that he could get his hands on.
Zelda had returned after a hundred years to a world that was different in almost every way that mattered. In a lot of ways, Link expected that was even harder.
It took Zelda longer to gather herself this time, but finally she took a deep breath and looked directly at Link. Alright. We’ll stay the night and leave late tomorrow morning. I’ll want to visit Impa before we go, but I’ll do it alone. If she asks after you, I’ll head her off.
She fingerspelled Impa’s name.
Relief flooded Link, and he gave her a small, grateful smile and a nod. Zelda smiled wanly back, stood up, and started wearily toward the inn, feet dragging.
Paya moved to do so as well, stiff and awkward, and Link reached out to brush his fingers over her wrist. She jumped, strangling a yelp, and then looked at him, wide-eyed and startled.
Thank you for staying, he signed, because it had been quickly, dreadfully clear that she had stayed to protect him.
Paya blinked at him, and then smiled shyly. She nodded, and then, without another word, bolted away, back to the safety of her grandmother’s home. He chuckled softly under his breath, and then went to follow Zelda.
He caught up with her just before she reached the pond, nudged her hand to get her attention, and asked, Do you want to meet Koko’s family? It might not be too late to have dinner with them after all. Her father is one of Impa’s guards.
Zelda gave him a weary smile and a nod, and let him lead her by the hand back to Koko, who was just scooping her prize into a dish to take home. She beamed at them as they approached, waving so hard she almost dropped her hard work all over the ground, and with a soft laugh Zelda waved back.
“Room for two more?” Zelda asked, and Koko nodded eagerly.