Sage (RevaLink)

Sage

Memories came so rarely nowadays that Link had grown comfortable knowing he wasn't the same anymore. The young woman who walked each step next to him was a name and a face he knew by title, but not a confident that he had anymore. She was a shadow - a ghost even - but he still went along with her in an attempt of keeping who he was.

The Link before didn't smile, Zelda had once said to him quietly, folding a quilted blanket over herself as they sat by the campfire. She couldn't have predicted the turmoil such a small fact would bring, but Link's heart grew heavier with that knowledge. He knew his poker-face had hurt people he couldn't make amendments with, and he knew his newly expressive features made Zelda squirm.

The Link before didn't talk, Zelda had giggled to herself behind a gloved hand, listening to how Link spoke with the locals sitting around the crockpot. The stable at the base of Rito Village was lively that evening, rich with culture so alien to the newly freed princess, that just served to intrigue her more. She loved hearing how thick each syllable sounded on Link's tongue as he spoke to match with the stable owner, noting how he had adopted the slang and terminology the locals had developed over the century - all whilst confusing them with older words. Not that Zelda had a different effect on the locals, but Link's was grander to poke fun at.

The stable had fallen into heretics later in the evening - a child having fallen into the river below, black and blue from the fall. Zelda would have assisted in the aftermath, but Link had been the one to care for the little girl as if it was habitual. The Link before did have a family - a father and sister, Zelda had confided late in the night. Zelda gave a name, a description, and even a back story - Link couldn't remember Aryll's chubby cheeks, nor her blue eyes. Couldn't hear the voice that Zelda spoke of, the softly spoken girl mimicking her father and brothers stern, crisp tones. He couldn't see her, not even in the girl that slept in his arms. Zelda told him to look in a mirror, and puff his cheeks out. "She looked just like you, did you know? Much prettier of course..." She had said in reassurance, but It didn't help ease the pain.

Up the winding path to Rito Village, Zelda had decided to fill the silence by 'blessing' Link with a historical lecture. The Link before had grown used to hearing about his ancestors the second his hand had managed to break the sword free - not that he remembered any of it.

She had spoken of the Hero of Wind, a brother himself she was quick to point out, describing the flooding of Hyrule, the rebellious princess, and the acclaimed Captain that assisted him in the last stretch of his heroic duties. She spoke of the Hero of Twilight, and even showed him through the slate where they believed his old village may have laid years and years ago, fondly reciting poems as if she'd only read them yesterday. Link hadn't paid much attention, but Zelda had assured she had Link's attention by telling the tale of the Hero of Time. The hero that Link had been studying prior to the Calamity, that had inspired him to pick up a bit of the flute, in a bid to learn the Ocarina he had claimed.

At the gates of Rito Village, Link felt hollow. None of this brought memories, but rather a searing pain as he realised that out of his highly esteemed ancestors - he was the one who had failed his duties.

Passing under the melancholy shadow of Vah Medoh left an itch in Link's fingers, a deja vu violently thrumming in his mind as the wind whistled and the music played in unison - a familiar, but odd sensation that haunted him every time he wandered up the spiral staircase. It was Zelda who had noticed it at the Inn that evening, reaching over and gently curling her hands around his. The Link before never fidgeted as a knight, but as a boy it was common to find crescents biting his calloused skin, a hand coaxing wild splayed hair down, and eyebrows that pinched, accentuating impassioned eyes. Zelda knew him now just as she had learnt to know him before, and the very next day slid a small flute into his hands, jesting about the music her companion once played. When Link blew, his muscle memory directed his fingers into developing a soft tune unlike any neither Link, nor Zelda had heard before. The song was different in sound - not the mystifying harp that Zelda spoke of in fondness, nothing akin to the haunting echoing of the Zora singing bowls, nor the heavy drums of the Gorons, but rather an airy and natural sound that carried in the wind and melted with the atmosphere.