Autumn in Akkala

Ch.31 Freeze Frame of a Forgotten Hero

Story Time

! Link Hyrule Castle

I cannot seem to bring myself to look at the mask Zelda has bestowed upon me.

Something about its vacant eyes threatens me to my core. The smudged lines of war paint beneath its absent holes for eyes smell of iron.

Of Blood.

I hurried to Y/N; the mask stashed away, hopefully never to be used. The desire to crack open this book was making my hands tremble with the violence of an Eldin earthquake.

Y/N was seated in the medic's study, her ankle elevated and wrapped. The look of recognition in her eyes made my heart flutter with gratitude. Her smile only served to enforce the recklessness of my decision. Her eyes settled on the book in my hands.

I sat down beside her, taking her hand-her hand that was now mine-into my own.

I needed to find an appropriate preface to what I was about to say.

I didn't know how to tell Y/N that there was yet another version of me I had to meet.

Only this version made me more afraid of myself than I'd ever been before.
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"OW!"

The medic stared at you, possessing not even the slightest whim of remorse. She took her wrinkly fingers, which were dotted with sharp daggers for nails, and touched your ankle again.

"How about now? Does it still hurt?"

"No, it tickles." You rolled your eyes as she went ahead and clawed at your swollen ankle once again. She made a clicking noise with her tongue, her eyes sharp with disdain.

"This is appalling. We need to cast this immediately. It appears you've had an injury for quite some time; in addition to the ankle's preexisting trauma, you've sustained more. And your inability to stay off of it hasn't served you well either." She sighed, almost as if you had been the one to puncture your own ankle with an arrow. "You must stay off of it for a minimum of four weeks." She implored you with a command that was as stern and unforgiving as the wrinkles time had cast on her forehead.

"Four weeks! There isn't time for that!" You protested; the shrill sound of your own voice made your ears ache.

She sighed again, making the same clicking noise with her tongue that you were beginning to think of as some type of tick. Link walked in in a huff, shutting the door behind him.

No matter how many times you saw him, it was always like the first. His ponytail was loose, and his golden strands were wind-whipped from running. His eyes still cradled around you with admiration. Until he saw your ankle, and the corners of his mouth were weighed down by a harsh frown.

"Doctor, what is the prognosis for her ankle?"

"She needs bedrest. Luckily, a cast or splint should help the bones heal without the need for surgery. She really needs to be disciplined into going easy on herself."

He looked back at you and gave you a waggish grin. "I can discipline her."

"You wouldn't. You don't have it in you." You folded your arms, daring Link to challenge you.

He gave you a lofty laugh as he nestled atop the bed, sitting beside you. "I'll give you a pass; this is new for both of us." His voice fell a few notches, and he bent down to your ear. "But you don't know how demanding and crude I can be."

"Why don't you show me then?"

"A tall order from a girl who couldn't look at me shirtless." He playfully blew into your eardrum, causing you to shiver. "You're not ready for that part of your training; when I feel you are, you'll know." He pressed his lips against your temple, pulling them away and leaving a juicy imprint in their place.

You and Link heard the medic jiggling the doorknob as she fumbled to leave the room. "I'll be back to cast her ankle." You heard the sound of her tongue snapping across the room as she pulled the door shut with an eager slam. Link looked at you; his lips latched together as a corner lazily shifted upward. He raised his eyebrow, waiting for a witty riposte from you.

But you couldn't focus on a clever response when you felt the warmth from his kiss stamped on your temple. The awareness of being alone on a bed with him made you desperate to find a topic of conversation- and fast. You noticed a book perched on his lap.

"What's with the book?"

Seeing your cheekiness wane, he held the book up to you. "Zelda gave this to me. I thought we could read it together."

"But what is it?" You took the book from him and instantly thought it might disintegrate from your touch. "How old is this thing?" The dust from the pages swirled into the air, causing you to sneeze.

You observed the writing on the side.

"Deity?"

"Y/N." Link hesitated. "It's story time. Let me read to you the story of the missing pages from the Hero of Time's biography."

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1455 B.F.E. Before Flood Era

The blood that has sullied the battlefield is that of my enemies and not of my own.

Despite the arsenal of masks I possess, I need to be no one other than myself right now.

I almost prefer to go back to Hyrule. The Hyrule that recognizes me as nothing more than some silly child.

Some silly fairy boy.

The world of Termina is cruel. But if this is a parallel to Hyrule, then does it mean I've been oblivious to the cruelty of Hyrule all this time? Certainly, being an unrecognizable hero is a cruel fate.

When I think of the word 'cruel' I think of Malon. Malon, who looks at me with those friendly eyes, completely unaware of the many passionate promises we'd utter to each other seven years from now.

Would that still be the case?

Would I ever find Navi?

Would I ever find where I belong?

As I see the helpless skull kid laughing at me behind the mask of Majora, I can't help but laugh alongside him.

He thinks I am fighting him to save Termina.

What a fool!

It makes me laugh harder.

His head tilts slightly as he realizes the laugh that is coming from me is no longer my own.

When Zelda sent me back in time, when Malon didn't remember me, and when Navi left... I wished I could be like Hylia.

I was Hylia's chosen hero, yet all she chose me for was to be forgotten.

Twice.

I want to know what it is like to be in charge of my own fate.

I want to be a cosmic orchestrator of my own destiny.

I remember the mask strapped to my side.

I want to know what it's like to not be forgotten.

Perhaps the only way to not be forgotten is to be feared.

I put the mask on, and the voice of the deity calls out to me, "You're Hylia now."

I fall to my knees; the only threat between me and Majora is the savage laughter that has overtaken me.

Yes, I needed to be no one other than myself right now.

Myself. Who is actually a fierce deity.

Edited:10/30/23