Chapter Text
PART ONE
Chapter 1: A Place in Gerudo
“You will always be welcome in Gerudo. We could use a swordsman of your ability to keep our soldiers in shape.”
Riju’s words rang in Link's ears as his head swam in the desert heat. He plodded forward, one sandal in front of the other, his eyes crossing, vision blurring and sand whipping his cheeks. He reached out to steady himself on a nearby structure—and impaled his hand on a hydromelon cactus. Drunkenly, he stared at his glove, wondering why it hadn't protected him better. A memory of slicing the glove earlier reached him, and he dropped to the sand and curled up in the shade of the cactus, hurling the last of his drink into the sand beside him.
My cooling potion must have run out, he had the fortune to remember, downing another one before passing out in the warm sand, exhausted, drunk, and without a cause to fight for, much less a reason to live.
*****
Hours passed, and Link awoke in the coolness of evening. He sat up, and lifted an arm over his brow to squint at the sun thinning on the horizon. Watery peach and tangerine wavered as the light faded. Link flopped back into the still-warm sand, groaning at the throbbing pain in his head.
The hero of the wilds, hungover. Again.
He groaned once more before cobbling together a ramshackle fire for the night from supplies in his pack and also an unfortunate passing tumbleweed.
Night fell quietly over the sands. As the air cooled and Link stared into the fire, he took stock of his position. He was east of Gerudo town. So, he'd done it again: he had tried navigating drunk and had wandered off path, only to awake and hate himself and his stupid habit for over-drinking these days. Goddesses, he was a mess.
He picked up sand and watched it flow off his hand, realizing the pricks and slices from earlier had scabbed with sand in them. He blinked at his hand, the memory of a thousand wounds better tended flashing before his eyes. Lava burns wrapped in damp cloth, lizalfos lacerations he stitched himself, electrical chu burns coated in tropical aloe from Faron. He’d always taken care of himself so that he'd be able to go on, telling himself heroism wasn't so much brash bravery but quiet endurance. Now, he had a twice-dirty cut caked with bloody sand and now pus, with no plan to wash it. He couldn't find it in himself to care. Some hero he was, now.
Suddenly he was seized by a memory—a draconic scream, pain, a choking tightness as his humanity was lost around him—
Link jolted back to himself, the unearthly scream of a coyote fading to the south of him. Stupid dogs. They had sent his mind racing back to that place. Again.
Link sighed, scrubbed his face with his good hand. He had to get a fucking grip on things. He couldn't cry. He wouldn't.
Worst of all, he knew the memory wasn't his.
Even as he begged himself not to, Link looked skyward, searching for the light dragon. She wasn't here. He hadn't seen what was left of his Zelda much since he'd destroyed Ganondorf. She'd saved his ass in the final battle and then faded high into the clouds, rarely glimpsed even on clear days.
It truly was a permanent act.
Link sniffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wasn't going to cry. He wouldn't. He rifled through his pockets until he found a vial of moonshine to drink.
And so the night crawled by, Link shutting up his grief in his liver, and doing his best to feel nothing at all.
*****
“Why of course we would love to have you here, Master Link. How long will you be staying with us?”
Link’s face stilled, the same way it had when that assumption was spoken in Zora’s Domain, in Goron City, in Rito Village, in Lurelin, in Kakariko, in Lookout Landing, in Tarrey Town, even in Hateno. Hell, all Hyrule assumed that, even with Ganondorf dead, the hero of Hyrule had somewhere else he needed to be.
The truth was worse, of course.
Link dropped the stony facade and sighed. Just this once, he wasn't going to lie, to evade. “May I speak with Lady Riju, please? I'm happy to wait for as long as is needed for an audience with the chief.”
The clerical Gerudo who had met him at the training courtyard now wore her own worries on her face. “Oh! Of course. Yes. I apologize.” Her face flushed and she gathered her books.
Link almost felt bad, because she now realized she'd offended him. She was the first Gerudo, the first person at all, he'd spoken with today. He'd been staring at the stalls and sights of Gerudo town, trying to lose himself in sun baked stone and swaying palms before facing his fate with Riju. It had worked for about two hours. His head pounded, hungover from a few too many ignoble pursuits.
“If you would follow me…” she said, gesturing.
Link followed the spectacled, clerical Gerudo to the throne room. He turned heads, as he always did in Gerudo town. A voe, in voe armor, walking openly through the streets. Such was the privilege of the Savior of the Gerudo, Link.
They walked up the steps into the palace. The clerical Gerudo signaled for Link to wait, and so he lingered outside the throne room until told to enter. Then, once ushered, he trudged in, his headache gratefully fading to the background hum he was used to.
Link strode up the rich, red carpet. Riju watched from her cushioned seat, framed by twin waterfalls built into the sandstone walls. She'd grown to her full Gerudo height in the years since he defeated the Calamity. She leaned forward as he approached, her keen emerald eyes assessing. Riju was a leader who prevailed with determination and attention to detail. The hero dropped to one knee before her throne. “Lady Riju, I come here to answer your offer for dwelling and work in Gerudo, which you extended to me during preparations for the battle against Ganondorf.” Footfalls joined the echo of his words in the throne room. “I come here to pledge fealty and service to the nation of Gerudo and its people, humbly, sincerely—”
Link looked up to meet the eyes of Riju, who smiled from just a few feet in front of him. She had walked over while he spoke. He saw she was barefoot, her sandals tucked beside the throne. Her hand was extended to help him up from the floor. Meeting her eyes now, he finished his pledge. “...Sincerely and indefinitely.”
Riju reached for his hand and he grasped it; with strength she pulled him up as he stood. Her eyes twinkled with a half smile. “I was wondering when you would come. I began to wonder if you thought you were too good for my offer.”
Link shook his head with Hylian deference. “Of course not, Lady–”
“Riju, alone, is fine for you.” She finished, closer now, eyes lowered, smiling at him. He held his breath a moment, wondering if she could smell the moonshine on it. “Though you might want to tack on Lady in the company of my court, as is customary.”
Link looked around, and realized that the throne room was empty except for himself and Riju. She had dismissed the court to meet with him. He blinked back tears, the relief spilling through him like a creek running high after winter thaw. “Thank you, Riju,” he whispered, almost reverent.
Was he drunk, or did Riju bat her eyelashes just now? “Of course,” she said.
Link sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I'm just glad you didn't assume I have somewhere else to be.”
Riju chuckled. Then her face darkened and she looked away. “We both lost someone when Zelda swallowed that stone.” Riju looked up, her face steeled now. “We both gained peace and safety for our kingdom, at the cost of our greatest friend.”
Link nodded, numb to the importance of his pain. It hurt. It hurt too much to pretend grand meaning eased grief this great.
He felt Riju's hand close around his. “She would want us to live, Link. Not to be held back by the memory of her.”
Link blinked. Looked at Riju. Looked down. As silence stretched on, he found words for the scars on his soul, and with them, the ghost of a smile. “Memory. Now that's another loaded topic for me.”
Riju laughed, throwing her head back. “You are that hero, yes,” she said, still grinning.
Link smiled, like ancient ice cracking as it warmed. How long had it been since he'd made someone laugh? “Yeah. Died in a battle I got resurrected to finish, except I forgot all about it. A ghost from the past, wandering Hyrule asking everybody if they could tell me who I used to be and what I was supposed to do now.” Link chuckled.
“And none of us knew either,” Riju said.
“That's right. A whole lotta womp womp after dying for something.” Link found himself entranced by her. The glint in her eyes, the shine of her jewels, the way she held herself with pride and dignity and confidence.
Riju clapped a hand on Link's shoulder. “I will assign you a position in our ranks immediately. Captain. What do you think….training new recruits or more experienced soldiers?” There was a gleam of mischief in her eyes.
Link's smile cracked. He had honestly hoped for some sort of infantry position. To be turned into canon fodder. But alas, no good leader would waste his talent like that. Perhaps that's why he was poor at such tasks, and better at working alone.
Link sighed, trying to clear his mind to focus on the question. “Uh…more experienced soldiers, I think. I'd like to learn something myself, now and then, and uh, I might be too….jaded, at the moment, for new recruits.” His own honesty startled him.
But Riju's face was warm and accepting. “I understand, Link. You will report to Buliara today. Give the vai a moment to get the update on your new position, and she will show you to your quarters and tell you where to report in the morning for your first day of work.” Riju took a step away but glanced back. “I must say, we've been sorely needing someone to focus on our more senior soldiers. Some fresh ideas would do those old hats some good, don't you think? And you will learn, yourself. Perhaps I can't speak for all Gerudo warriors, but I can speak for myself.” Riju winked, and Link felt a flush of warmth on his cheeks.
It must be the moonshine, he thought, as Riju sat back atop the chair, beckoning a reappeared Buliara to her side. Sun glinted on the scimitar of the seven set beside the throne, near her discarded sandals. I've never had luck like this, Link thought again.