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Link heard the creaking of wood below him as his footsteps crossed along the platform, over the white-painted crest of the Rito in the centre, and to the edge, where he stood still and stared off into the distance. The wind carried his gaze all the way past Hyrule Castle, past Mount Lanayru and the Zora’s Domain, and over to the ocean in the far east of the kingdom. The sun was just starting to rise, painting over the black world with a beautiful golden hue, as if it were a scene perfectly crafted by Hylia herself.
Even with his snowquill outfit on, the dark nights of Tabantha were cold; doubly so at this altitude. Icy breezes never let the knight forget where he was, the freezing temperatures of the region constantly biting at the skin on his face… and yet on Revali’s Landing, he felt a warmth - not so much outside, but inside, much deeper, almost like a deep-rooted part of him that he couldn’t quite understand. Like he was once warm here, a time he could not quite remember, and that feeling shone through, all this time later.
Whatever happened one hundred years ago was a mystery to Link. Sometimes, flickers of remembrance of the past shot through his mind like an arrow, but they were nothing more than inherited memories from a different man that he could never fully grasp; yet the pain of the wounds hurt all the same. The Shrine of Resurrection didn’t heal all of his scars.
He remembered the man he was, one hundred years ago, standing on this platform. It wasn’t Revali’s Landing then, just another landing that nobody thought twice about. He remembered the way that Rito came down in an incredible display of talent, and mocked him for his supposed inferiority. He remembered the harsh words spoken, about how he couldn’t decide whether he thought his fellow Champion was rude and arrogant, or simply just perceptive of his character in a way that few other than himself was, about how he didn’t say a word back, because what could he ever have said?
That was the only clear memory, bathed in sunlight. Whatever else happened to the man from the past here was coated in a perpetual nighttime, hidden in places he doubted the sun would ever find.
Whatever else happened was a mystery, but Link wondered all the same, in search of an answer he might never find. After defeating the Calamity, he had all the time in the world to wonder.
From the whispers of the wind, he could just about make out what he thought was a voice. Or, not a voice, but something told him that, perhaps, there was more to the Rito Champion than he recalled. More to their connection than the few memories the Goddess granted him would ever illuminate. That, underneath that ice cold veneer, much like the village he called home, there was a warmth, a kindness, a gentleness in Revali. A side that maybe, just maybe, Link - or, at least the Link that was - had gotten to see.
Maybe, he wondered, it wasn’t always like that. Revali had alluded to as much in his diary. He hadn’t written much on the matter, but somehow, some way, Link knew he was never the type to let himself be vulnerable, even when nobody else would see it anyway. But perhaps he was with him.
If he remembered clear as day the archer mocking him for his abilities, something inside told him that he had taught him to be better, too. Link felt the ghost of a touch on his shoulders, on his arms, the softness of the other’s wingtips guiding him as he grasped a bow in his hands, showing him the way to fight the way his people did, the way he did better than anyone before or since. He felt the ghost’s touch, and he felt safe in it.
Link was an expert archer now, able to hit targets precisely, no matter how far away, no matter what else was happening, even if his whole body was falling. He was a master, and yet he knew once he was not. Every time he fired an arrow, his mind cast back to the landing. To who helped him to be this way in the first place. He grasped the Great Eagle’s Bow in his hands now, the same hands of a different man who once held it in the same place he did now, and tried to remember the way the Rito he could barely recall yet knew better than anyone held him.
The knight couldn’t remember, not really, and yet he knew, in a way, the things that happened on this landing. How the evolution of the relationship between the hero of old and the Champion of the Rito was written in the wood beneath his feet like a great tapestry of a bond loved and lost. How bitter remarks gave way to genuine admiration between them, how stilted conversation gave way to long hours burning into the cool depths of night where they talked about everything and nothing in particular, talks that felt freeing in a way neither had ever truly felt before; how revulsion turned to fond touches shared that felt like a shield from all danger, and how Revali had held him as the temperatures dipped and Link’s teeth chattered and his body shook from the cold, the contact of feathers on skin bringing a comforting heat to cut through this icy land and make something real.
How tender kisses were shared in the pale moonlight as lips met beak and there was nothing in the world except them and the stars above.
But Link was not that man. Not that man who loved dearly on this very landing that he now stood. Evermore, Link was a man destined to wonder.