The legend of AB: Epona´s Filly, Hero´s apprentice.by CubotChaptersSurprise adoption?Purah, the immortal Genius.First Hunt, Birds are friend.Training arc.ExpeditionDays.Chapter 7Surprise adoption?Link blinked once, astonished at the sight before him. Zelda rubbed her eyes, her brilliant mind still sluggish from sleep. “Link… what’s happening?” she murmured, her words heavy with drowsiness. Not that he could blame her. She had spent a hundred years awake and vigilant, holding a living calamity at bay, while he had taken what was, arguably, the most legendary power nap in existence. He was always ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice, but right now, all he needed to do was explain the scene. “It seems Epona’s adopted a child,” Link said softly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. It was an undeniably adorable sight. Epona was grooming the little one with the utmost care, while the filly slept soundly, cuddled against the mare’s much larger frame. “Well, good for her…” Zelda hummed, swaying slightly as she struggled to stay upright. Link couldn’t resist. With a mischievous grin, he leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Go back to bed, Zel. I’ll handle this.” Zelda smiled sleepily, her expression as goofy as it was endearing, before shuffling back toward the house. Link stifled a chuckle, knowing full well she would give him an embarrassed scolding in the morning for his cheeky gesture. But honestly? He couldn’t bring himself to care. She had lived for her people and her kingdom for far too long. That was before the calamity. Now, with only a handful of villages remaining, the kingdom of Hyrule was little more than a memory. It could be rebuilt—Link knew that was her mission—but it didn’t have to happen immediately. For now, she deserved to rest and explore the secrets her heart longed to uncover. And he would make sure of it. For now, however, the Hero of Hyrule approached his steed at an easy pace, careful to make his steps audible so as not to startle the new mother. Epona noticed him, her eyes gleaming with what could only be described as pride. She held herself in a posture reminiscent of a dog showing off a well-caught stick to its owner. This time, Link laughed freely, reaching out to stroke Epona’s long neck. “Yes, girl. Yes, your child is adorable.” The mare snorted. “Alright, alright. Your daughter is adorable,” he corrected with mock seriousness. He crouched down to examine the filly more closely. She was… unusual, in a way. Her coat was a soft orange-yellow, her mane golden and strikingly reminiscent of his or Zelda’s. She had surprisingly well-defined shoulders and—wait—were those freckles on her nose? The filly cracked one eye open, revealing a pair of vivid emeralds, before her eyelids drooped shut again. Link chuckled softly as he patted her gently, then went to fetch a bucket brimming with apples—Epona’s favorite treat. He fed the mare first, earning an appreciative nuzzle, before turning his attention back to the little one. “I suppose you’ll need a name, won’t you?” he mused aloud. Just then, an apple tumbled from the bucket and bounced off the filly’s side. She let out a low grumble before, in a reflexive motion, kicking the apple hard. The fruit flew a surprising distance… and smashed straight through the window of their house. “WHAT IN HEAVEN’S NAME JUST HAPPENED?!” came Zelda’s now fully alert and distinctly voice from within. “Well…” Link sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “I suppose we’ll call you Applebuck, you little rascal.” Epona snorted, clearly amused. The newly named Applebuck let out a tiny snort in her sleep, utterly oblivious to the chaos she had caused. Purah, the immortal Genius.“This is… impressive,” Purah mused, clearly fascinated. She waved a pen in front of a now three-year-old Applebuck, who followed the movement with rapt attention. The little filly’s bright emerald eyes locked on the pen without fail, her small hooves reaching out in an attempt to grab it. Something clearly impossible, seeing as her experiment's with the deaging rune where an renaund success and now she had a 20 year old looking body, so she was much much taller than the small equine, (Cognitive function similar to that of a Hylian child of the same age… intriguing.) Link, with his hands resting confidently on his hips, nodded in agreement. “A’ yup! At first, we were worried that she was a runt when she just didn’t want to grow, which might explain why she was abandoned in the first place. But now? We’re starting to suspect something else is going on.” Purah hummed thoughtfully, her lips curling into a smile as Applebuck frowned in frustration, clearly puzzled at not being able to catch the pen. “Well, what an intriguing case you’ve brought me, Linky~. Zoology isn’t exactly my area of expertise, but there’s nothing the Gerath Pura can’t accomplish!” Purah said dramatically, pointing the pen at the sky as if she were casting a spell. “Shamp?” Applebuck gurgled in confusion, her innocent gaze still following the errant pen. (Baby talk?! Intriguing… Most intriguing indeed.) “So, what did Purah say, Link?” Zelda asked as she struggled to cut a particularly tough piece of boar meat. She gritted her teeth, her determination evident as she worked her way through it. Link hummed thoughtfully, effortlessly chopping vegetables at speeds that would make professional chefs resign in defeat. “She said she’d look into it, but you know Purah. We probably won’t hear back from her until she has something solid… or until she needs a favor.” “True.” Zelda sighed, knowing her old friend all too well. “But… that’s all?” “Yeah, why?” Link asked, glancing up. “No reason!” Zelda quickly responded, her tone a little too hasty and… flustered? Her cheeks were pink, and she focused entirely on her plate, avoiding eye contact. Link raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his eye as he studied her. She was hiding her face, but the tips of her ears were flushed crimson. He shrugged nonchalantly, but inwardly, his mind raced. He debated whether or not to speak his mind, but in the end, he decided to address it directly. “I know you think I’m a fool when it comes to this stuff, Princess, and I’ll admit, I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed.” His sudden declaration caused Zelda to freeze, her eyes widening as her heart skipped a beat. Did he know? How?! She and Purah had been so careful! “… but it’s obvious that…” Link paused, giving her a teasing smile. Oh, Hylia, who was she trying to fool? Of course he knew! He was Link—the man who solved ancient, life-threatening puzzles like they were children’s games! “You and Purah have been at it, haven’t you?” “Yeh—wait, what?!” Zelda exclaimed, spinning around so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. Her wide eyes darted to Link, who simply raised an amused eyebrow. Link returned to stirring his stew with an air of casual amusement, completely unfazed by her sudden outburst. Meanwhile, Zelda’s face was quickly becoming a blazing shade of red. “Come on, Princess,” Link continued with a chuckle. “You honestly think I wouldn’t notice? The late-night escapes? The way you come home all sweet and red-faced? The goofy grin you try to hide? C’mon, Zel, you should know me better by now.” Zelda tried to argue, her words coming out as a garbled mess of incoherent babble. Then she blinked rapidly, her cheeks still flushed but her mind quickly regaining its composure. She straightened her posture, wiping her hands on her apron as if to steady herself. “Alright, Link,” she said, her voice now laced with a touch of her usual confidence, though still carrying a hint of red in her cheeks. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” Link, thoroughly entertained, flashed her a grin but didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he added a few more chopped carrots to his stew, deliberately taking his time. Zelda took a deep breath, her hands now gripping the edge of the table as she gave him a pointed look. “You might think you know, but you don’t know everything, Link.” “Oh?” he asked, not looking up, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Exactly,” she shot back, now smiling slyly. “For all your cleverness, you might not have noticed the most important detail.” Link raised an eyebrow at her words, his interest piqued. Zelda stepped closer, her eyes locking with his. “I didn’t just ‘suddenly’ develop a goofy grin or come home red-faced, Link,” she said with a small smirk. “It’s called living a little, something you might want to try sometime, instead of waiting around to solve puzzles and save the world.” Link gave her a playful look. “Are you saying I’ve been too busy saving Hyrule to notice a few things?” Zelda’s smirk widened. “Perhaps. But I’m glad you’ve finally caught on. At least you’re not completely oblivious, for once.” Link chuckled, now fully enjoying the playful banter. He finally gave her a wink. “Alright, princess. You’ve got me there.” Zelda’s posture relaxed, and her cheeks, while still pink, no longer betrayed any embarrassment. She reached over to continue cutting the boar meat, clearly in much better spirits. “Good,” she said with satisfaction. “And while we’re at it, I think we’ll need more potatoes in this stew. Don’t want you getting too distracted by a certain other puzzle, do we?” Link laughed again, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. I’ll leave the cooking to you, then.” Then he proceeded to exit the house he's hands is till in the air. The minute the hise door closed the princess shoulders slumped and let herself fall into a chair. (That was...).-She honestly didn't have idea. (I mean, I can see why... he would think that, but...).- Her mind raced into... paths. She shook her self determined to simply let the notion die... If only her mind let it be so. First Hunt, Birds are friend."You sure this is a good idea, Link?" Zelda asked, her voice tinged with concern. Her eyes flickered between the Hero of Hyrule and the eager young Rito standing beside him. "C'mon, Aunty Zelda, don't be like Dad!" Tulin, son of Teba—the valiant pilot of the divine beast Vah Medoh—chirped with a mix of impatience and excitement. The young fledgling fluffed his feathers indignantly, clearly not in the mood for yet another lecture about caution. Today wasn’t just any day. Today marked a pivotal moment in Tulin’s life, the day he would embark on his first hunt to prove himself as a warrior, as dictated by ancient Rito tradition. His wide eyes gleamed with determination, though the nervous flutter of his wings betrayed his excitement. By tradition, his father should have been the one to oversee this rite of passage. However, Teba, the Rito Chieftain, had recently been gravely injured defending their mountain village from a surprise Blood Moon raid. His left wing and foot were bound in sturdy casts, a testament to the ferocity of the attack. Unable to guide his son himself, Teba had sought out the only other person he trusted implicitly for such an important task—the Centurial Hero of Hyrule himself, Link. When the chieftain made his request, Link had listened solemnly, his steady gaze conveying the weight of the responsibility. "Does the exam have to follow any specific rules?" Link had asked in his typically calm manner, adjusting his well-worn gauntlets as he considered the task ahead. "The rite varies depending on the examiner," Teba had explained, a faint smile curving his beak. "Traditions leave room for adaptation. As for Tulin… I know he’s thrilled that you will guide him. He’s spoken of little else since I told him." Teba gestured toward his injured wing and foot, his expression softening with regret. "I had hoped to be there myself, but as you can see..." He sighed, his shoulders sagging briefly under the weight of his condition before straightening. "I am… indisposed. So, my friend, I must ask this of you. Do me this favor—not as a chieftain, but as a father." Link had nodded, his blue eyes filled with quiet understanding. "I’ll make sure he’s ready." Now, as Zelda’s concern lingered in the air, Tulin puffed up again, his youthful bravado on full display. "Besides," he added, his voice rising with excitement, "Dad always says that if anyone knows about survival and hunting, it’s you, Link!" Zelda sighed but relented with a small smile. She placed a gentle hand on Tulin’s shoulder. "Just promise me you’ll listen to him, alright? No rushing ahead." "I promise!" Tulin chirped, already bounding toward the edge of the village with his bow slung across his back. Link followed with a faint smile, adjusting his quiver and pausing only briefly to glance back at Zelda, his expression silently reassuring. The day was bright, the sky clear—perfect conditions for a hunt. Tulin’s first step toward becoming a warrior had begun, and under Link’s watchful eye, it was sure to be an adventure worthy of song. Or at least, that was what Tulin thought… until this. "You want me to be a nanny?!" the young Rito screeched, his beak dropping open in utter disbelief. Link’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, but the seriousness in his piercing blue eyes made it clear he wasn’t joking. "You might see it that way," Link said calmly, his tone unshaken. "But this is your test. Your mission, if you will. After all, what better way to prove your survival potential than not only surviving yourself but also..." His eyes shifted meaningfully to the small figure standing beside Tulin. It was none other than Applebuck,, who was practically vibrating with excitement. She wore a green tunic that looked suspiciously similar to one of Link’s own, albeit modified for her equine frame. The sturdy leather reinforcements and neatly stitched seams spoke to both practicality and care. A small wooden sword hung by her side, bouncing as she shifted on her hooves, clearly eager for the challenge ahead. "...also taking care of someone who can’t?" Link finished sagely. Tulin sagged, his wings drooping in resignation. Try as he might, he couldn’t argue with the logic—frustrating as it was. The weight of the responsibility was already sinking in, and he felt his earlier bravado faltering. "Exactly," Link said, clearly reading Tulin’s reaction. He chuckled softly but pressed on, his voice firm. "Your objective is simple in principle but difficult in execution: guide Applebuck from the entrance of the Shrine of Resurrection to the Sheikah shrine at the peak of the mountain. You can use whatever methods you deem necessary. However..." He leaned forward, his tone sharpening like the edge of the Master Sword. "If Applebuck suffers a grave injury or if you lose sight of her for more than half an hour, you will fail the test. I will be nearby to supervise and step in if the situation exceeds your capabilities. Is that clear?" Link’s military precision in delivering the instructions caught both of them off guard, but neither dared to question him. "Yes, sir!" Tulin chirped, his feathers puffing up as he gave an enthusiastic salute. "Yesh, shir!" Applebuck echoed, her thick southern drawl only adding to her endearing determination as she mimicked Tulin’s stance. Link’s expression softened briefly at their sincerity. He pulled out the Sheikah Slate and swiftly entered the coordinates for their destination. The ancient device whirred softly, its blue light casting faint patterns across his face. "Good luck," he said at last, his voice steady and reassuring. "And may Hylia watch over you both." With that, he pressed a button on the Sheikah Slate and disappeared in a cascade of shimmering motes of light, leaving Tulin and Applebuck standing alone at the base of the mountain trail. Tulin let out a low groan, running a wing over his face as Applebuck tilted her head, already bouncing in place. "This is gonna be a long day..." he muttered under his breath. "Don’t worry, Tulin! I’m tougher than I look!" Applebuck chirped cheerfully, trotting a few steps ahead. "C’mon, slowpoke—we got a mountain to climb!" Tulin sighed, shouldering his bow as he trailed after her. "Hylia, give me strength..." Training arc.“As you can see,” Link began, his movements slow and deliberate as he carved precise strikes into a wooden dummy with his traveler's sword. The rhythm of his cuts was almost mesmerizing, each one landing with a soft thud. “The most important thing about wielding a sword is momentum—getting the right flow to your strikes—the angle of your swing, and, of course, footwork. Or, in your case… hoofwork.” Applebuck chuckled at the quip, her orange coat gleaming faintly under the midday sun. But she wasn’t just amused—her keen emerald eyes were locked on Link’s every move, absorbing the lesson with the focus of someone determined to prove herself. “Now,” Link continued, sheathing his sword smoothly. “All we need to do is find the weapon that feels most natural to you. Sure, I’ll teach you how to handle all kinds of weapons—you never know what kind of mess you’ll find yourself in—but it’s important to know what you excel at. That way, your training is as effective as it can be.” He gestured for her to step forward, a curious glint in his eye. “Any thoughts on where to start?” The young mare pursed her lips, her tail flicking thoughtfully behind her. “Hmm… maybe a broadsword could work? Or a mace? I’ve got the strength for either…” Link nodded as he listened, tapping his chin in thought. “You’re definitely strong enough—stronger than most, honestly. Weight wouldn’t be a problem for you.” He paused, glancing at her with a faint smirk. “Height, on the other hand…” Applebuck narrowed her eyes at him, her expression deadpan. “Kettle calling the pot black, much?” she shot back with an arched brow. Link raised an eyebrow right back, clearly unimpressed. “You want me to restart your swimming lessons?” “No, sir!” she responded instantly, snapping to attention with a sharp salute. “Good,” Link said, suppressing a grin as he turned back to the training area. “Now, here’s what we’re going to do. First, we’ll test out a few weapons—get a feel for how they handle with your strength and frame. Then, we’ll focus on technique. Remember: raw power is great, but skill is what keeps you alive in the long run.” Applebuck nodded firmly, determination etched into her young face. “Got it, Master Link!” He chuckled softly at her enthusiasm and handed her a wooden training sword. “Alright, then. Show me what you’ve got.” The mare gripped the hilt in her teeth with surprising ease, stepping into a ready stance. Her emerald eyes gleamed with excitement as she prepared for her first swing. Link watched her carefully, his smirk softening into a proud smile. “You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with, kid,” he muttered under his breath. “And they’re at it again,” Zelda murmured, cradling a cup of tea between her hands. Next to her, Purah glanced up from her notepad—soon to be her “Purah Pad”—and gave the princess a cheeky smile. “Truly, Princess, you should be accustomed to this by now.” Zelda huffed, the sound distinctly unladylike, though she didn’t seem to care. “That may be,” she admitted, “but it still… bothers me.” She trailed off, frustrated by the inadequacy of her own words. Purah responded with an amused hum, clearly more entertained than sympathetic. The princess scowled, her gaze drifting toward the training yard where Link and Applebuck sparred with unwavering determination. “I just wish he’d take a break once in a while,” she said, her tone softening into something closer to a plea. Purah leaned back, twirling her pen idly between her fingers. “Well, if that’s your wish, maybe let the warriors train in peace. You know as well as I do that Linky isn’t the type to sit idle. And that little Apple of his? She’s cut from the same cloth. Besides,” she added, her voice lowering, “you know they both need the distraction.” Zelda’s scowl deepened, her fingers tightening around the delicate porcelain of her teacup. “...How is she?” Purah’s playful demeanor dropped instantly, replaced by a grimace. She sighed heavily, setting her notepad aside. “Even with the healing properties of the Water of Resurrection, the process has been… slow. Too slow. Robbie and I estimate she might have a year left—two, if she doesn’t strain herself. But… you know Epona.” The Sheikah inventor’s lips twisted into a bittersweet smile. “Mounts often resemble their masters, don’t they?” Zelda’s hands clenched tightly around her cup, her knuckles whitening as the weight of the words settled on her shoulders. Finally, she exhaled shakily and set the cup down, her composure crumbling as she buried her face in her hands. “Poor Epona,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “She suffered so much at the hands of the Malice—died in agony. Then she was resurrected, only to have her master forget her entirely. Just when she found a chance to rest, to raise a foal, she—” Zelda’s voice choked, and her words turned into a muffled sob. Purah placed a comforting hand on her back, rubbing soft circles as Zelda cried. “It’s not fair,” Zelda continued, her voice thick with anguish. “Why does the Goddess keep taking from us? Was our sacrifice not enough? Link’s death? My penance? The promise to rebuild this kingdom—her kingdom—was that not enough?” Purah, the immortal Sheikah, had no answer. She pulled Zelda into a gentle embrace, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, Zeldy,” she admitted, her tone raw and uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I don’t know.” As the last royal of Hyrule wept on her friend’s shoulder, her knight continued his training with Applebuck. Their movements were resolute, every swing and step filled with purpose—both dedicating their efforts to a cherished friend and mother, fighting against time and fate itself. Epona fought valiantly, her spirit unyielding even as the inevitable loomed over her. Despite the grim prognosis, she defied the odds, living three years instead of the two she was given. But in the end, Bone Malice was a death sentence—slow, insidious, and inescapable, no matter the treatment. Her infection was the cruel consequence of Link’s final battle against Calamity Ganon, when a stray blow of pure Malice struck her. The vile corruption worked slowly—because of course it would—buying her time to hide the truth. Headstrong and fiercely protective, Epona bore the burden alone, concealing her suffering even from Link and her daughter, Applebuck. By the time Link noticed something was wrong, her condition had progressed too far. The truth emerged during a Sheikah examination, and though he moved heaven and earth to seek a cure, it was too late. Her death, at least, was peaceful. A potent Sheikah sleep poison allowed her to drift away in one final rest. Surrounded by those who loved her most, she passed quietly, leaving behind a legacy of loyalty and strength that would never be forgotten. And then, as if to salt the wound, a Blood Moon rose. The monsters stirred, their grotesque forms returning to life under its crimson glow. It was a grave insult—an intrusion upon her memory—but it was unfortunate... for the monsters, that is. Link’s rage was quiet and cold, his movements methodical as he prepared for the fight. Applebuck stood beside him, her emerald eyes blazing with fury, the pain of losing her mother sharpening her every move. Together, they descended upon the horde with devastating precision, each strike a testament to their shared grief and determination. The monsters never stood a chance. Zelda the last royal could only pray for the fierce soul of such loyal mare... and for the souls of whom her passing most affected. Expedition[This is after chapter 3] Tulin took a deep breath, steadying himself as he stood before the towering tree. The weight of his axe felt natural in his wings, the wood of its handle warm against his feathers. With a sharp exhale, he swung the axe with precision. One, two, and then a final, powerful third strike. The tree groaned as it gave way, its mighty form crashing down with a resounding thud that echoed through the ravine. “C’mon, c’mon,” Tulin chanted under his breath, his eyes glued to the falling tree. He held his breath as it descended perfectly into place, forming a makeshift bridge over the yawning chasm below. “Y-YES!” Tulin cheered, flapping his wings triumphantly. “Whoa! Nice one, Tulin!” Applebuck called out, her voice brimming with admiration as she trotted up to him. Her orange coat gleamed faintly in the waning sunlight. “Thanks! Now we just need to cross it...” Tulin began, before pausing and narrowing his eyes at Applebuck. The filly’s gaze had shifted uneasily to the edge of the ravine. “Applebuck?” Tulin asked, his tone tinged with suspicion. “You don’t have a fear of heights... do you?” Applebuck’s ears flicked back, and her cheeks flushed. She glanced between Tulin and the ravine, clearly trying to compose herself. “N-No! I don’t!” she exclaimed a little too loudly. “Then what is it?” Tulin pressed, his patience thinning like a blade of grass in the wind. Applebuck hesitated, her eyes darting to the dark depths of the ravine before finally mumbling, “It’s not the fall that spooks me... it’s... well...” “What?” Tulin blurted, exasperation creeping into his voice. “It’s too deep!” Applebuck finally shouted, stomping her hoof for emphasis. “Too deep!” Her words struck a chord in Tulin’s memory. He froze, his frustration melting away as a long-buried recollection surfaced. (Right, I remember now... Uncle Link and Father mentioned this...) He winced, the pieces falling into place. “Oh. The well in Kakariko. That accident where you got stuck for nearly a day?” Applebuck’s head dipped, her embarrassment palpable. “Y-Yeah,” she admitted softly. Tulin let out a deep sigh, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with a feathered finger—a mannerism he had unconsciously picked up from Link. He glanced up at the sky, the orange hues of the setting sun reminding him that they only had a few hours of daylight left. “Alright,” Tulin said at last, his voice calm and steady. “We’ll cross together, step by step. Just stay close to me, and keep your eyes forward. Don’t look down.” Applebuck swallowed hard, nodding. “O-Okay.” Tulin stepped onto the log first, testing its stability. The makeshift bridge creaked under his weight but held firm. With careful, deliberate movements, he gestured for Applebuck to follow. The filly hesitated at the edge, her legs trembling slightly. Taking a deep breath, she placed one hoof on the log, then another, her heart pounding in her chest. “You’re doing great,” Tulin encouraged, his voice soothing. “Just keep moving.” Step by step, they made their way across the ravine. The wind whispered through the chasm below, and Applebuck’s gaze remained fixed firmly on Tulin’s back, her determination outweighing her fear. When they finally reached the other side, Applebuck let out a shaky laugh, her relief evident. “We did it! We actually did it!” Tulin grinned, his wings fluttering slightly in triumph. “Told you we could. Now, let’s find that cabin before it gets too dark.” When they were some distance away, Applebuck exhaled a shaky breath. “Thanks, Tulin,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with genuine gratitude. “Anytime,” Tulin replied with a grin. “Now let’s find that cabin before it gets too dark.” [A few days before the upheaval {TLOZ: TOTK}] Applebuck awoke to the gentle sound of birds chirping outside her window, the first rays of the sun beginning to pierce through the morning clouds. She yawned and stretched, her movements fluid and precise. For anyone unfamiliar with her routine, the sight might have been astonishing: a small pony performing stretches that would put the most seasoned yogi to shame. Planks, hoof touches, and even splits were all part of her morning ritual, her remarkable flexibility both mesmerizing and humbling. This was just the start of her day. Once her stretches were complete, Applebuck moved on to "dressing up." She began with a simple white t-shirt, its collar embroidered with her name in neat stitching. Over this, she donned a sturdy piece of chainmail, its weight a familiar comfort. Next came her green tunic, the fabric soft but durable, followed by her leather sword sheath and a satchel slung across her side. As she reached for her final accessory, a green cap, she paused to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The movement revealed a braid adorned with beads of blue and orange, a simple but poignant reminder. "Good morning to you too, Mom," she murmured softly, her voice carrying a note of reverence. She grasped the short iron sword resting beside her bed, slid it into its sheath with practiced ease, and placed the green cap firmly on her head. Opening the door to her small cottage, Applebuck was greeted by the sight of Tarrytown, a bustling settlement nestled at the edge of a seamount. The modest yet thriving community was a testament to the vision and determination of her godfather—her uncle, master, and sire all rolled into one. What had once been a humble project had blossomed into a lively hub where the diverse races of Hyrule coexisted in harmony. Applebuck trotted across the bridge leading into town, taking in the vibrant scenes of daily life. Near the mines, a group of Hylians and Gorons laughed heartily as they prepared for the day’s labor. In the fountain plaza, a returning hunting party—comprising Hylians, a Rito, a Zora, and even a Gerudo—was met with cheers of celebration. Their haul was bountiful, more than enough to sustain the town. Mothers and other caretakers, both women and men, bustled around preparing food, their chatter and laughter adding warmth to the scene. The town’s commerce flourished as merchants displayed their wares, eager voices haggling and exchanging goods. The mines continued to yield resources, ensuring Tarrytown’s prosperity, and the settlement’s location on a seamount with a single access route made it nearly impervious to raids. As Applebuck approached the fountain at the heart of the plaza, she returned the salutes and warm greetings of the townsfolk with a polite nod and a small smile. The fountain’s centerpiece drew her attention: a modest stone statue of a winged figure, depicted in a humble pose of prayer. It was a tribute to the Goddess of Time, Hylia, a symbol of faith and unity for the people of Tarrytown. Following the example of many around her, Applebuck knelt before the statue, lowering her head in silent prayer. In that moment, she felt the pulse of the town around her—the laughter, the chatter, the toil—all of it a testament to the resilience and hope that bound them together. Here, in this thriving community, she found purpose, and in her prayers, she sought guidance for the challenges that lay ahead. Days.A bow, an arrow, a path, and a target. That was the essence of archery. Of course, in practice, it was much more complicated—especially for an outsider unfamiliar with the art. But the Rito? They were simply built different. The first toy any young Rito received was a slingshot. From the moment they could grasp it in their talons, they would spend endless days launching nuts and small rocks at anything in sight—tree branches, distant cliffs, even the occasional unsuspecting traveler (who, more often than not, turned out to be another young Rito with a slingshot of their own). Surprisingly, it was a fairly safe pastime. High up in their mountainous domain, there weren’t many threats that could reach a Rito perched in the craggy heights. The greatest danger came from the Ice Keese—monstrous bats with a single, glowing eye. They attacked in swarms, wielding ice magic that could freeze an unprepared traveler in seconds. But their oversized, luminous sensory organ made for an easy target. A well-aimed shot was all it took to bring one down, turning them from fearsome predators into little more than target practice. The cold was no real issue for the Rito either. Their bodies were naturally resistant to frigid temperatures, their feathers insulating them from the harsh mountain winds. The same could not be said for Applebuck. Even with her thick fur coat and tunic, she was beginning to shiver, her teeth clacking audibly as she trudged forward against the icy breeze. For the Rito, this air was practically mild—warmer than what they were used to back home. But for someone who had never even seen snow before, it was freezing. Tulin hesitated, glancing ahead. They were close to their goal—just one more hill, a river crossing, and they’d be there. Pushing forward would be the quickest option. But then he noticed the filly trembling, her body stiff with cold. The constant fights against Ice Chuchus must have drained what little warmth she had left. Tulin sighed. "...Come on, let’s find a cave. You need to warm up." He was already scanning the rocky landscape for a decent shelter. "Nn-no! I—I can keep going!" Applebuck protested, stomping a hoof for emphasis. Tulin smirked, ruffling his feathers against the wind. "You know that just makes you look adorable instead of determined, right?" Applebuck pouted, but she had no real argument. Huffing, she stomped after him, following his lead toward whatever warmth they could find. Applebuck kept pouting, ears flicking in irritation. Her uncle, Link, only chuckled lightly. "C’mon, Buky, we’re done here," he said, sheathing the Master Sword with practiced ease, the blade sliding into its scabbard in a single fluid motion. The filly glanced around at the aftermath of the battle—the scattered remains of their fallen foes—and then back at him. "Shouldn’t we grab the loot?" she asked, securing her mace onto her back. Link paused for a moment, then shrugged. "If you wanna carry it, be my guest." Applebuck gave him a flat, unimpressed stare. "You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re as rich as a Goron mine," she chided playfully before trotting over to gather their spoils—guts, teeth, eyes, hearts, and other monster parts that would fetch a fair price or be useful in brewing elixirs. Link smirked but, in the end, helped her collect the materials, wordlessly filling his own pouch with the grim trophies of their fight. Meanwhile, on a distant lookout to the south, two Hylian guards stood watch, their eyes fixed on the unmistakable aftermath of what could only be described as a Blood Moon massacre. The younger of the two swallowed hard, gripping his spear a little tighter. "...Monsters. Those two are monsters," he muttered, fear creeping into his voice as he watched them scavenge from the carnage. The older guard exhaled through his nose, his expression hard. "Maybe," he admitted, "but they’re the Goddess’s monsters." He shot the younger one a sharp look. "And you’d do well to remember that. With the way things are now, we need all the savagery we can get. As long as the moon bleeds, there will be no peace." The young guard could only gulp and nod, eyes still locked on the figures below. Chapter 7Applebuck leisurely sipped her hydromelon shake as she trotted down the winding path toward the Bastion in central Hyrule. How was this possible, you might ask? After all, she was a quadruped, wasn’t she? The answer was simple: someone else was holding the base for her. Tulin, his feathers rustling in the gentle breeze, glanced over at Applebuck, his head tilted in a mix of amusement and disbelief. "You're really going to use that favor for something like this?" he asked, both bemused and incredulous. The slight arch of his beak betrayed more than his words, hinting at his true feelings on the matter. A soft rustle stirred in the leaves overhead. Applebuck didn’t even glance at him as she gave a side smirk, the mischievous glint in her eyes unmistakable. Without missing a beat, she slurped loudly from the straw, finishing the drink in two quick sips. Tulin raised what passed for an eyebrow, then let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as he fidgeted with the now empty container. "You know, if you'd just asked, I would've subtracted four favors from our pool instead of just this one." The Rito shrugged, his beak curved in a playful grin, as he absentmindedly twirled the container between his talons. A small chitter of wood that grew distant. "And that is exactly why i did not." Applebuck flick her head moving her hair out of her eyes, her shoulder relaxing slightly. Tulin huffed in amusement, idly passing the empty container from one talon to the other as they walked, but pocket it after a while. The rhythmic rustling of leaves and distant chirps of wildlife accompanied them as they made their way through the thick forest. They had nearly reached the tree line when something crashed in front of them. Both instinctively tensed, eyes snapping to the figure sprawled on the ground. A man—no, a Sheikah—lay before them, his pale hair matted with sweat and blood. His beige clothing was torn, dirtied by the struggle he had evidently endured. Frayed ropes hung from his wrists, and strapped to his back were several sickles—Yiga sickles. The pair approached cautiously, hooves and talons barely making a sound against the earth. Tulin, ever prepared, used the wind to carry his voice directly to the wounded man, ensuring that only the intended recipient would hear. "You live a..." He trailed off, the security phrase left unfinished—waiting. The downed Sheikah groaned, a wet cough bubbling up from his throat as blood dribbled past his lips. But he managed to respond, voice hoarse yet steady. "Hyrule Fantasy." Tulin gave a firm nod toward Applebuck. No more hesitation. In an instant, both rushed to assist. "Where are the others?" Applebuck asked hurriedly as Tulin worked to secure the man onto the mare’s back. The Sheikah shuddered, forcing out words between ragged breaths. "Dead... Mission was a partial success. Spotted. Killed a few. Need to... give information. Critical." His voice grew weaker, but before unconsciousness could take him, Tulin pressed a red potion to his lips. The moment the liquid touched his tongue, some of the tension in his body eased. "This should slow the bleeding enough to get you to camp," Applebuck assured, her voice shifting into something sharper, something colder—practical and no-nonsense. A tone not unlike her uncle’s, the Hero of Hyrule himself. The Sheikah barely managed a faint "Yes, ma’am" before his body slumped into exhausted stillness. Tulin wasted no time. In one fluid motion, he drew his bow, nocked three magic fire arrows, and loosed them into the dense foliage. The enchanted flames crackled as they struck, briefly illuminating the shadows before flickering into embers. Then, with a powerful beat of his wings, he summoned a gust to widen his range, ensuring their pursuers—if there were any—would think twice before advancing too quickly. "That should buy us a few minutes," he said, already turning. "Let’s move." Apple buck met his gaze, nodded, and without another word, they took off into the night. "Well… this is a problem." Purah, Director of Reconstructions, exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against her temples as if she could physically knead away the stress. "A whole underground—an entirely new Hyrule right beneath our feet…" Princess Zelda murmured, her golden eyes wide with a mixture of astonishment, intrigue, and no small amount of excitement. Across the room, Link chuckled softly. Watching Zelda get this animated was always a treat—her excitement bubbling up like an overflowing potion. It was cute, in a way that made him bite back a grin. Even Purah, despite her weariness, couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. But that moment of warmth quickly gave way to another sigh—this one heavier, laden with the weight of responsibility. "It might sound hypocritical coming from me," Purah admitted, folding her arms. "But business before research, Zeldy. Business before research. Then Linky can take us on a date down there." "Oh! R-right, of course." Zelda straightened, a light blush dusting her cheeks as she quickly turned her attention back to the report in her hands. A subtle glance passed between Purah and Link, a silent conversation unfolding in a single shared look. (How long before she realizes?) Both smirked. A bet was about to be made.
Surprise adoption?Link blinked once, astonished at the sight before him. Zelda rubbed her eyes, her brilliant mind still sluggish from sleep. “Link… what’s happening?” she murmured, her words heavy with drowsiness. Not that he could blame her. She had spent a hundred years awake and vigilant, holding a living calamity at bay, while he had taken what was, arguably, the most legendary power nap in existence. He was always ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice, but right now, all he needed to do was explain the scene. “It seems Epona’s adopted a child,” Link said softly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. It was an undeniably adorable sight. Epona was grooming the little one with the utmost care, while the filly slept soundly, cuddled against the mare’s much larger frame. “Well, good for her…” Zelda hummed, swaying slightly as she struggled to stay upright. Link couldn’t resist. With a mischievous grin, he leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Go back to bed, Zel. I’ll handle this.” Zelda smiled sleepily, her expression as goofy as it was endearing, before shuffling back toward the house. Link stifled a chuckle, knowing full well she would give him an embarrassed scolding in the morning for his cheeky gesture. But honestly? He couldn’t bring himself to care. She had lived for her people and her kingdom for far too long. That was before the calamity. Now, with only a handful of villages remaining, the kingdom of Hyrule was little more than a memory. It could be rebuilt—Link knew that was her mission—but it didn’t have to happen immediately. For now, she deserved to rest and explore the secrets her heart longed to uncover. And he would make sure of it. For now, however, the Hero of Hyrule approached his steed at an easy pace, careful to make his steps audible so as not to startle the new mother. Epona noticed him, her eyes gleaming with what could only be described as pride. She held herself in a posture reminiscent of a dog showing off a well-caught stick to its owner. This time, Link laughed freely, reaching out to stroke Epona’s long neck. “Yes, girl. Yes, your child is adorable.” The mare snorted. “Alright, alright. Your daughter is adorable,” he corrected with mock seriousness. He crouched down to examine the filly more closely. She was… unusual, in a way. Her coat was a soft orange-yellow, her mane golden and strikingly reminiscent of his or Zelda’s. She had surprisingly well-defined shoulders and—wait—were those freckles on her nose? The filly cracked one eye open, revealing a pair of vivid emeralds, before her eyelids drooped shut again. Link chuckled softly as he patted her gently, then went to fetch a bucket brimming with apples—Epona’s favorite treat. He fed the mare first, earning an appreciative nuzzle, before turning his attention back to the little one. “I suppose you’ll need a name, won’t you?” he mused aloud. Just then, an apple tumbled from the bucket and bounced off the filly’s side. She let out a low grumble before, in a reflexive motion, kicking the apple hard. The fruit flew a surprising distance… and smashed straight through the window of their house. “WHAT IN HEAVEN’S NAME JUST HAPPENED?!” came Zelda’s now fully alert and distinctly voice from within. “Well…” Link sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “I suppose we’ll call you Applebuck, you little rascal.” Epona snorted, clearly amused. The newly named Applebuck let out a tiny snort in her sleep, utterly oblivious to the chaos she had caused.
Purah, the immortal Genius.“This is… impressive,” Purah mused, clearly fascinated. She waved a pen in front of a now three-year-old Applebuck, who followed the movement with rapt attention. The little filly’s bright emerald eyes locked on the pen without fail, her small hooves reaching out in an attempt to grab it. Something clearly impossible, seeing as her experiment's with the deaging rune where an renaund success and now she had a 20 year old looking body, so she was much much taller than the small equine, (Cognitive function similar to that of a Hylian child of the same age… intriguing.) Link, with his hands resting confidently on his hips, nodded in agreement. “A’ yup! At first, we were worried that she was a runt when she just didn’t want to grow, which might explain why she was abandoned in the first place. But now? We’re starting to suspect something else is going on.” Purah hummed thoughtfully, her lips curling into a smile as Applebuck frowned in frustration, clearly puzzled at not being able to catch the pen. “Well, what an intriguing case you’ve brought me, Linky~. Zoology isn’t exactly my area of expertise, but there’s nothing the Gerath Pura can’t accomplish!” Purah said dramatically, pointing the pen at the sky as if she were casting a spell. “Shamp?” Applebuck gurgled in confusion, her innocent gaze still following the errant pen. (Baby talk?! Intriguing… Most intriguing indeed.) “So, what did Purah say, Link?” Zelda asked as she struggled to cut a particularly tough piece of boar meat. She gritted her teeth, her determination evident as she worked her way through it. Link hummed thoughtfully, effortlessly chopping vegetables at speeds that would make professional chefs resign in defeat. “She said she’d look into it, but you know Purah. We probably won’t hear back from her until she has something solid… or until she needs a favor.” “True.” Zelda sighed, knowing her old friend all too well. “But… that’s all?” “Yeah, why?” Link asked, glancing up. “No reason!” Zelda quickly responded, her tone a little too hasty and… flustered? Her cheeks were pink, and she focused entirely on her plate, avoiding eye contact. Link raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his eye as he studied her. She was hiding her face, but the tips of her ears were flushed crimson. He shrugged nonchalantly, but inwardly, his mind raced. He debated whether or not to speak his mind, but in the end, he decided to address it directly. “I know you think I’m a fool when it comes to this stuff, Princess, and I’ll admit, I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed.” His sudden declaration caused Zelda to freeze, her eyes widening as her heart skipped a beat. Did he know? How?! She and Purah had been so careful! “… but it’s obvious that…” Link paused, giving her a teasing smile. Oh, Hylia, who was she trying to fool? Of course he knew! He was Link—the man who solved ancient, life-threatening puzzles like they were children’s games! “You and Purah have been at it, haven’t you?” “Yeh—wait, what?!” Zelda exclaimed, spinning around so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. Her wide eyes darted to Link, who simply raised an amused eyebrow. Link returned to stirring his stew with an air of casual amusement, completely unfazed by her sudden outburst. Meanwhile, Zelda’s face was quickly becoming a blazing shade of red. “Come on, Princess,” Link continued with a chuckle. “You honestly think I wouldn’t notice? The late-night escapes? The way you come home all sweet and red-faced? The goofy grin you try to hide? C’mon, Zel, you should know me better by now.” Zelda tried to argue, her words coming out as a garbled mess of incoherent babble. Then she blinked rapidly, her cheeks still flushed but her mind quickly regaining its composure. She straightened her posture, wiping her hands on her apron as if to steady herself. “Alright, Link,” she said, her voice now laced with a touch of her usual confidence, though still carrying a hint of red in her cheeks. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” Link, thoroughly entertained, flashed her a grin but didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he added a few more chopped carrots to his stew, deliberately taking his time. Zelda took a deep breath, her hands now gripping the edge of the table as she gave him a pointed look. “You might think you know, but you don’t know everything, Link.” “Oh?” he asked, not looking up, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Exactly,” she shot back, now smiling slyly. “For all your cleverness, you might not have noticed the most important detail.” Link raised an eyebrow at her words, his interest piqued. Zelda stepped closer, her eyes locking with his. “I didn’t just ‘suddenly’ develop a goofy grin or come home red-faced, Link,” she said with a small smirk. “It’s called living a little, something you might want to try sometime, instead of waiting around to solve puzzles and save the world.” Link gave her a playful look. “Are you saying I’ve been too busy saving Hyrule to notice a few things?” Zelda’s smirk widened. “Perhaps. But I’m glad you’ve finally caught on. At least you’re not completely oblivious, for once.” Link chuckled, now fully enjoying the playful banter. He finally gave her a wink. “Alright, princess. You’ve got me there.” Zelda’s posture relaxed, and her cheeks, while still pink, no longer betrayed any embarrassment. She reached over to continue cutting the boar meat, clearly in much better spirits. “Good,” she said with satisfaction. “And while we’re at it, I think we’ll need more potatoes in this stew. Don’t want you getting too distracted by a certain other puzzle, do we?” Link laughed again, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. I’ll leave the cooking to you, then.” Then he proceeded to exit the house he's hands is till in the air. The minute the hise door closed the princess shoulders slumped and let herself fall into a chair. (That was...).-She honestly didn't have idea. (I mean, I can see why... he would think that, but...).- Her mind raced into... paths. She shook her self determined to simply let the notion die... If only her mind let it be so.
First Hunt, Birds are friend."You sure this is a good idea, Link?" Zelda asked, her voice tinged with concern. Her eyes flickered between the Hero of Hyrule and the eager young Rito standing beside him. "C'mon, Aunty Zelda, don't be like Dad!" Tulin, son of Teba—the valiant pilot of the divine beast Vah Medoh—chirped with a mix of impatience and excitement. The young fledgling fluffed his feathers indignantly, clearly not in the mood for yet another lecture about caution. Today wasn’t just any day. Today marked a pivotal moment in Tulin’s life, the day he would embark on his first hunt to prove himself as a warrior, as dictated by ancient Rito tradition. His wide eyes gleamed with determination, though the nervous flutter of his wings betrayed his excitement. By tradition, his father should have been the one to oversee this rite of passage. However, Teba, the Rito Chieftain, had recently been gravely injured defending their mountain village from a surprise Blood Moon raid. His left wing and foot were bound in sturdy casts, a testament to the ferocity of the attack. Unable to guide his son himself, Teba had sought out the only other person he trusted implicitly for such an important task—the Centurial Hero of Hyrule himself, Link. When the chieftain made his request, Link had listened solemnly, his steady gaze conveying the weight of the responsibility. "Does the exam have to follow any specific rules?" Link had asked in his typically calm manner, adjusting his well-worn gauntlets as he considered the task ahead. "The rite varies depending on the examiner," Teba had explained, a faint smile curving his beak. "Traditions leave room for adaptation. As for Tulin… I know he’s thrilled that you will guide him. He’s spoken of little else since I told him." Teba gestured toward his injured wing and foot, his expression softening with regret. "I had hoped to be there myself, but as you can see..." He sighed, his shoulders sagging briefly under the weight of his condition before straightening. "I am… indisposed. So, my friend, I must ask this of you. Do me this favor—not as a chieftain, but as a father." Link had nodded, his blue eyes filled with quiet understanding. "I’ll make sure he’s ready." Now, as Zelda’s concern lingered in the air, Tulin puffed up again, his youthful bravado on full display. "Besides," he added, his voice rising with excitement, "Dad always says that if anyone knows about survival and hunting, it’s you, Link!" Zelda sighed but relented with a small smile. She placed a gentle hand on Tulin’s shoulder. "Just promise me you’ll listen to him, alright? No rushing ahead." "I promise!" Tulin chirped, already bounding toward the edge of the village with his bow slung across his back. Link followed with a faint smile, adjusting his quiver and pausing only briefly to glance back at Zelda, his expression silently reassuring. The day was bright, the sky clear—perfect conditions for a hunt. Tulin’s first step toward becoming a warrior had begun, and under Link’s watchful eye, it was sure to be an adventure worthy of song. Or at least, that was what Tulin thought… until this. "You want me to be a nanny?!" the young Rito screeched, his beak dropping open in utter disbelief. Link’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, but the seriousness in his piercing blue eyes made it clear he wasn’t joking. "You might see it that way," Link said calmly, his tone unshaken. "But this is your test. Your mission, if you will. After all, what better way to prove your survival potential than not only surviving yourself but also..." His eyes shifted meaningfully to the small figure standing beside Tulin. It was none other than Applebuck,, who was practically vibrating with excitement. She wore a green tunic that looked suspiciously similar to one of Link’s own, albeit modified for her equine frame. The sturdy leather reinforcements and neatly stitched seams spoke to both practicality and care. A small wooden sword hung by her side, bouncing as she shifted on her hooves, clearly eager for the challenge ahead. "...also taking care of someone who can’t?" Link finished sagely. Tulin sagged, his wings drooping in resignation. Try as he might, he couldn’t argue with the logic—frustrating as it was. The weight of the responsibility was already sinking in, and he felt his earlier bravado faltering. "Exactly," Link said, clearly reading Tulin’s reaction. He chuckled softly but pressed on, his voice firm. "Your objective is simple in principle but difficult in execution: guide Applebuck from the entrance of the Shrine of Resurrection to the Sheikah shrine at the peak of the mountain. You can use whatever methods you deem necessary. However..." He leaned forward, his tone sharpening like the edge of the Master Sword. "If Applebuck suffers a grave injury or if you lose sight of her for more than half an hour, you will fail the test. I will be nearby to supervise and step in if the situation exceeds your capabilities. Is that clear?" Link’s military precision in delivering the instructions caught both of them off guard, but neither dared to question him. "Yes, sir!" Tulin chirped, his feathers puffing up as he gave an enthusiastic salute. "Yesh, shir!" Applebuck echoed, her thick southern drawl only adding to her endearing determination as she mimicked Tulin’s stance. Link’s expression softened briefly at their sincerity. He pulled out the Sheikah Slate and swiftly entered the coordinates for their destination. The ancient device whirred softly, its blue light casting faint patterns across his face. "Good luck," he said at last, his voice steady and reassuring. "And may Hylia watch over you both." With that, he pressed a button on the Sheikah Slate and disappeared in a cascade of shimmering motes of light, leaving Tulin and Applebuck standing alone at the base of the mountain trail. Tulin let out a low groan, running a wing over his face as Applebuck tilted her head, already bouncing in place. "This is gonna be a long day..." he muttered under his breath. "Don’t worry, Tulin! I’m tougher than I look!" Applebuck chirped cheerfully, trotting a few steps ahead. "C’mon, slowpoke—we got a mountain to climb!" Tulin sighed, shouldering his bow as he trailed after her. "Hylia, give me strength..."
Training arc.“As you can see,” Link began, his movements slow and deliberate as he carved precise strikes into a wooden dummy with his traveler's sword. The rhythm of his cuts was almost mesmerizing, each one landing with a soft thud. “The most important thing about wielding a sword is momentum—getting the right flow to your strikes—the angle of your swing, and, of course, footwork. Or, in your case… hoofwork.” Applebuck chuckled at the quip, her orange coat gleaming faintly under the midday sun. But she wasn’t just amused—her keen emerald eyes were locked on Link’s every move, absorbing the lesson with the focus of someone determined to prove herself. “Now,” Link continued, sheathing his sword smoothly. “All we need to do is find the weapon that feels most natural to you. Sure, I’ll teach you how to handle all kinds of weapons—you never know what kind of mess you’ll find yourself in—but it’s important to know what you excel at. That way, your training is as effective as it can be.” He gestured for her to step forward, a curious glint in his eye. “Any thoughts on where to start?” The young mare pursed her lips, her tail flicking thoughtfully behind her. “Hmm… maybe a broadsword could work? Or a mace? I’ve got the strength for either…” Link nodded as he listened, tapping his chin in thought. “You’re definitely strong enough—stronger than most, honestly. Weight wouldn’t be a problem for you.” He paused, glancing at her with a faint smirk. “Height, on the other hand…” Applebuck narrowed her eyes at him, her expression deadpan. “Kettle calling the pot black, much?” she shot back with an arched brow. Link raised an eyebrow right back, clearly unimpressed. “You want me to restart your swimming lessons?” “No, sir!” she responded instantly, snapping to attention with a sharp salute. “Good,” Link said, suppressing a grin as he turned back to the training area. “Now, here’s what we’re going to do. First, we’ll test out a few weapons—get a feel for how they handle with your strength and frame. Then, we’ll focus on technique. Remember: raw power is great, but skill is what keeps you alive in the long run.” Applebuck nodded firmly, determination etched into her young face. “Got it, Master Link!” He chuckled softly at her enthusiasm and handed her a wooden training sword. “Alright, then. Show me what you’ve got.” The mare gripped the hilt in her teeth with surprising ease, stepping into a ready stance. Her emerald eyes gleamed with excitement as she prepared for her first swing. Link watched her carefully, his smirk softening into a proud smile. “You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with, kid,” he muttered under his breath. “And they’re at it again,” Zelda murmured, cradling a cup of tea between her hands. Next to her, Purah glanced up from her notepad—soon to be her “Purah Pad”—and gave the princess a cheeky smile. “Truly, Princess, you should be accustomed to this by now.” Zelda huffed, the sound distinctly unladylike, though she didn’t seem to care. “That may be,” she admitted, “but it still… bothers me.” She trailed off, frustrated by the inadequacy of her own words. Purah responded with an amused hum, clearly more entertained than sympathetic. The princess scowled, her gaze drifting toward the training yard where Link and Applebuck sparred with unwavering determination. “I just wish he’d take a break once in a while,” she said, her tone softening into something closer to a plea. Purah leaned back, twirling her pen idly between her fingers. “Well, if that’s your wish, maybe let the warriors train in peace. You know as well as I do that Linky isn’t the type to sit idle. And that little Apple of his? She’s cut from the same cloth. Besides,” she added, her voice lowering, “you know they both need the distraction.” Zelda’s scowl deepened, her fingers tightening around the delicate porcelain of her teacup. “...How is she?” Purah’s playful demeanor dropped instantly, replaced by a grimace. She sighed heavily, setting her notepad aside. “Even with the healing properties of the Water of Resurrection, the process has been… slow. Too slow. Robbie and I estimate she might have a year left—two, if she doesn’t strain herself. But… you know Epona.” The Sheikah inventor’s lips twisted into a bittersweet smile. “Mounts often resemble their masters, don’t they?” Zelda’s hands clenched tightly around her cup, her knuckles whitening as the weight of the words settled on her shoulders. Finally, she exhaled shakily and set the cup down, her composure crumbling as she buried her face in her hands. “Poor Epona,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “She suffered so much at the hands of the Malice—died in agony. Then she was resurrected, only to have her master forget her entirely. Just when she found a chance to rest, to raise a foal, she—” Zelda’s voice choked, and her words turned into a muffled sob. Purah placed a comforting hand on her back, rubbing soft circles as Zelda cried. “It’s not fair,” Zelda continued, her voice thick with anguish. “Why does the Goddess keep taking from us? Was our sacrifice not enough? Link’s death? My penance? The promise to rebuild this kingdom—her kingdom—was that not enough?” Purah, the immortal Sheikah, had no answer. She pulled Zelda into a gentle embrace, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, Zeldy,” she admitted, her tone raw and uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I don’t know.” As the last royal of Hyrule wept on her friend’s shoulder, her knight continued his training with Applebuck. Their movements were resolute, every swing and step filled with purpose—both dedicating their efforts to a cherished friend and mother, fighting against time and fate itself. Epona fought valiantly, her spirit unyielding even as the inevitable loomed over her. Despite the grim prognosis, she defied the odds, living three years instead of the two she was given. But in the end, Bone Malice was a death sentence—slow, insidious, and inescapable, no matter the treatment. Her infection was the cruel consequence of Link’s final battle against Calamity Ganon, when a stray blow of pure Malice struck her. The vile corruption worked slowly—because of course it would—buying her time to hide the truth. Headstrong and fiercely protective, Epona bore the burden alone, concealing her suffering even from Link and her daughter, Applebuck. By the time Link noticed something was wrong, her condition had progressed too far. The truth emerged during a Sheikah examination, and though he moved heaven and earth to seek a cure, it was too late. Her death, at least, was peaceful. A potent Sheikah sleep poison allowed her to drift away in one final rest. Surrounded by those who loved her most, she passed quietly, leaving behind a legacy of loyalty and strength that would never be forgotten. And then, as if to salt the wound, a Blood Moon rose. The monsters stirred, their grotesque forms returning to life under its crimson glow. It was a grave insult—an intrusion upon her memory—but it was unfortunate... for the monsters, that is. Link’s rage was quiet and cold, his movements methodical as he prepared for the fight. Applebuck stood beside him, her emerald eyes blazing with fury, the pain of losing her mother sharpening her every move. Together, they descended upon the horde with devastating precision, each strike a testament to their shared grief and determination. The monsters never stood a chance. Zelda the last royal could only pray for the fierce soul of such loyal mare... and for the souls of whom her passing most affected.
Expedition[This is after chapter 3] Tulin took a deep breath, steadying himself as he stood before the towering tree. The weight of his axe felt natural in his wings, the wood of its handle warm against his feathers. With a sharp exhale, he swung the axe with precision. One, two, and then a final, powerful third strike. The tree groaned as it gave way, its mighty form crashing down with a resounding thud that echoed through the ravine. “C’mon, c’mon,” Tulin chanted under his breath, his eyes glued to the falling tree. He held his breath as it descended perfectly into place, forming a makeshift bridge over the yawning chasm below. “Y-YES!” Tulin cheered, flapping his wings triumphantly. “Whoa! Nice one, Tulin!” Applebuck called out, her voice brimming with admiration as she trotted up to him. Her orange coat gleamed faintly in the waning sunlight. “Thanks! Now we just need to cross it...” Tulin began, before pausing and narrowing his eyes at Applebuck. The filly’s gaze had shifted uneasily to the edge of the ravine. “Applebuck?” Tulin asked, his tone tinged with suspicion. “You don’t have a fear of heights... do you?” Applebuck’s ears flicked back, and her cheeks flushed. She glanced between Tulin and the ravine, clearly trying to compose herself. “N-No! I don’t!” she exclaimed a little too loudly. “Then what is it?” Tulin pressed, his patience thinning like a blade of grass in the wind. Applebuck hesitated, her eyes darting to the dark depths of the ravine before finally mumbling, “It’s not the fall that spooks me... it’s... well...” “What?” Tulin blurted, exasperation creeping into his voice. “It’s too deep!” Applebuck finally shouted, stomping her hoof for emphasis. “Too deep!” Her words struck a chord in Tulin’s memory. He froze, his frustration melting away as a long-buried recollection surfaced. (Right, I remember now... Uncle Link and Father mentioned this...) He winced, the pieces falling into place. “Oh. The well in Kakariko. That accident where you got stuck for nearly a day?” Applebuck’s head dipped, her embarrassment palpable. “Y-Yeah,” she admitted softly. Tulin let out a deep sigh, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with a feathered finger—a mannerism he had unconsciously picked up from Link. He glanced up at the sky, the orange hues of the setting sun reminding him that they only had a few hours of daylight left. “Alright,” Tulin said at last, his voice calm and steady. “We’ll cross together, step by step. Just stay close to me, and keep your eyes forward. Don’t look down.” Applebuck swallowed hard, nodding. “O-Okay.” Tulin stepped onto the log first, testing its stability. The makeshift bridge creaked under his weight but held firm. With careful, deliberate movements, he gestured for Applebuck to follow. The filly hesitated at the edge, her legs trembling slightly. Taking a deep breath, she placed one hoof on the log, then another, her heart pounding in her chest. “You’re doing great,” Tulin encouraged, his voice soothing. “Just keep moving.” Step by step, they made their way across the ravine. The wind whispered through the chasm below, and Applebuck’s gaze remained fixed firmly on Tulin’s back, her determination outweighing her fear. When they finally reached the other side, Applebuck let out a shaky laugh, her relief evident. “We did it! We actually did it!” Tulin grinned, his wings fluttering slightly in triumph. “Told you we could. Now, let’s find that cabin before it gets too dark.” When they were some distance away, Applebuck exhaled a shaky breath. “Thanks, Tulin,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with genuine gratitude. “Anytime,” Tulin replied with a grin. “Now let’s find that cabin before it gets too dark.” [A few days before the upheaval {TLOZ: TOTK}] Applebuck awoke to the gentle sound of birds chirping outside her window, the first rays of the sun beginning to pierce through the morning clouds. She yawned and stretched, her movements fluid and precise. For anyone unfamiliar with her routine, the sight might have been astonishing: a small pony performing stretches that would put the most seasoned yogi to shame. Planks, hoof touches, and even splits were all part of her morning ritual, her remarkable flexibility both mesmerizing and humbling. This was just the start of her day. Once her stretches were complete, Applebuck moved on to "dressing up." She began with a simple white t-shirt, its collar embroidered with her name in neat stitching. Over this, she donned a sturdy piece of chainmail, its weight a familiar comfort. Next came her green tunic, the fabric soft but durable, followed by her leather sword sheath and a satchel slung across her side. As she reached for her final accessory, a green cap, she paused to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The movement revealed a braid adorned with beads of blue and orange, a simple but poignant reminder. "Good morning to you too, Mom," she murmured softly, her voice carrying a note of reverence. She grasped the short iron sword resting beside her bed, slid it into its sheath with practiced ease, and placed the green cap firmly on her head. Opening the door to her small cottage, Applebuck was greeted by the sight of Tarrytown, a bustling settlement nestled at the edge of a seamount. The modest yet thriving community was a testament to the vision and determination of her godfather—her uncle, master, and sire all rolled into one. What had once been a humble project had blossomed into a lively hub where the diverse races of Hyrule coexisted in harmony. Applebuck trotted across the bridge leading into town, taking in the vibrant scenes of daily life. Near the mines, a group of Hylians and Gorons laughed heartily as they prepared for the day’s labor. In the fountain plaza, a returning hunting party—comprising Hylians, a Rito, a Zora, and even a Gerudo—was met with cheers of celebration. Their haul was bountiful, more than enough to sustain the town. Mothers and other caretakers, both women and men, bustled around preparing food, their chatter and laughter adding warmth to the scene. The town’s commerce flourished as merchants displayed their wares, eager voices haggling and exchanging goods. The mines continued to yield resources, ensuring Tarrytown’s prosperity, and the settlement’s location on a seamount with a single access route made it nearly impervious to raids. As Applebuck approached the fountain at the heart of the plaza, she returned the salutes and warm greetings of the townsfolk with a polite nod and a small smile. The fountain’s centerpiece drew her attention: a modest stone statue of a winged figure, depicted in a humble pose of prayer. It was a tribute to the Goddess of Time, Hylia, a symbol of faith and unity for the people of Tarrytown. Following the example of many around her, Applebuck knelt before the statue, lowering her head in silent prayer. In that moment, she felt the pulse of the town around her—the laughter, the chatter, the toil—all of it a testament to the resilience and hope that bound them together. Here, in this thriving community, she found purpose, and in her prayers, she sought guidance for the challenges that lay ahead.
Days.A bow, an arrow, a path, and a target. That was the essence of archery. Of course, in practice, it was much more complicated—especially for an outsider unfamiliar with the art. But the Rito? They were simply built different. The first toy any young Rito received was a slingshot. From the moment they could grasp it in their talons, they would spend endless days launching nuts and small rocks at anything in sight—tree branches, distant cliffs, even the occasional unsuspecting traveler (who, more often than not, turned out to be another young Rito with a slingshot of their own). Surprisingly, it was a fairly safe pastime. High up in their mountainous domain, there weren’t many threats that could reach a Rito perched in the craggy heights. The greatest danger came from the Ice Keese—monstrous bats with a single, glowing eye. They attacked in swarms, wielding ice magic that could freeze an unprepared traveler in seconds. But their oversized, luminous sensory organ made for an easy target. A well-aimed shot was all it took to bring one down, turning them from fearsome predators into little more than target practice. The cold was no real issue for the Rito either. Their bodies were naturally resistant to frigid temperatures, their feathers insulating them from the harsh mountain winds. The same could not be said for Applebuck. Even with her thick fur coat and tunic, she was beginning to shiver, her teeth clacking audibly as she trudged forward against the icy breeze. For the Rito, this air was practically mild—warmer than what they were used to back home. But for someone who had never even seen snow before, it was freezing. Tulin hesitated, glancing ahead. They were close to their goal—just one more hill, a river crossing, and they’d be there. Pushing forward would be the quickest option. But then he noticed the filly trembling, her body stiff with cold. The constant fights against Ice Chuchus must have drained what little warmth she had left. Tulin sighed. "...Come on, let’s find a cave. You need to warm up." He was already scanning the rocky landscape for a decent shelter. "Nn-no! I—I can keep going!" Applebuck protested, stomping a hoof for emphasis. Tulin smirked, ruffling his feathers against the wind. "You know that just makes you look adorable instead of determined, right?" Applebuck pouted, but she had no real argument. Huffing, she stomped after him, following his lead toward whatever warmth they could find. Applebuck kept pouting, ears flicking in irritation. Her uncle, Link, only chuckled lightly. "C’mon, Buky, we’re done here," he said, sheathing the Master Sword with practiced ease, the blade sliding into its scabbard in a single fluid motion. The filly glanced around at the aftermath of the battle—the scattered remains of their fallen foes—and then back at him. "Shouldn’t we grab the loot?" she asked, securing her mace onto her back. Link paused for a moment, then shrugged. "If you wanna carry it, be my guest." Applebuck gave him a flat, unimpressed stare. "You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re as rich as a Goron mine," she chided playfully before trotting over to gather their spoils—guts, teeth, eyes, hearts, and other monster parts that would fetch a fair price or be useful in brewing elixirs. Link smirked but, in the end, helped her collect the materials, wordlessly filling his own pouch with the grim trophies of their fight. Meanwhile, on a distant lookout to the south, two Hylian guards stood watch, their eyes fixed on the unmistakable aftermath of what could only be described as a Blood Moon massacre. The younger of the two swallowed hard, gripping his spear a little tighter. "...Monsters. Those two are monsters," he muttered, fear creeping into his voice as he watched them scavenge from the carnage. The older guard exhaled through his nose, his expression hard. "Maybe," he admitted, "but they’re the Goddess’s monsters." He shot the younger one a sharp look. "And you’d do well to remember that. With the way things are now, we need all the savagery we can get. As long as the moon bleeds, there will be no peace." The young guard could only gulp and nod, eyes still locked on the figures below.
Chapter 7Applebuck leisurely sipped her hydromelon shake as she trotted down the winding path toward the Bastion in central Hyrule. How was this possible, you might ask? After all, she was a quadruped, wasn’t she? The answer was simple: someone else was holding the base for her. Tulin, his feathers rustling in the gentle breeze, glanced over at Applebuck, his head tilted in a mix of amusement and disbelief. "You're really going to use that favor for something like this?" he asked, both bemused and incredulous. The slight arch of his beak betrayed more than his words, hinting at his true feelings on the matter. A soft rustle stirred in the leaves overhead. Applebuck didn’t even glance at him as she gave a side smirk, the mischievous glint in her eyes unmistakable. Without missing a beat, she slurped loudly from the straw, finishing the drink in two quick sips. Tulin raised what passed for an eyebrow, then let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as he fidgeted with the now empty container. "You know, if you'd just asked, I would've subtracted four favors from our pool instead of just this one." The Rito shrugged, his beak curved in a playful grin, as he absentmindedly twirled the container between his talons. A small chitter of wood that grew distant. "And that is exactly why i did not." Applebuck flick her head moving her hair out of her eyes, her shoulder relaxing slightly. Tulin huffed in amusement, idly passing the empty container from one talon to the other as they walked, but pocket it after a while. The rhythmic rustling of leaves and distant chirps of wildlife accompanied them as they made their way through the thick forest. They had nearly reached the tree line when something crashed in front of them. Both instinctively tensed, eyes snapping to the figure sprawled on the ground. A man—no, a Sheikah—lay before them, his pale hair matted with sweat and blood. His beige clothing was torn, dirtied by the struggle he had evidently endured. Frayed ropes hung from his wrists, and strapped to his back were several sickles—Yiga sickles. The pair approached cautiously, hooves and talons barely making a sound against the earth. Tulin, ever prepared, used the wind to carry his voice directly to the wounded man, ensuring that only the intended recipient would hear. "You live a..." He trailed off, the security phrase left unfinished—waiting. The downed Sheikah groaned, a wet cough bubbling up from his throat as blood dribbled past his lips. But he managed to respond, voice hoarse yet steady. "Hyrule Fantasy." Tulin gave a firm nod toward Applebuck. No more hesitation. In an instant, both rushed to assist. "Where are the others?" Applebuck asked hurriedly as Tulin worked to secure the man onto the mare’s back. The Sheikah shuddered, forcing out words between ragged breaths. "Dead... Mission was a partial success. Spotted. Killed a few. Need to... give information. Critical." His voice grew weaker, but before unconsciousness could take him, Tulin pressed a red potion to his lips. The moment the liquid touched his tongue, some of the tension in his body eased. "This should slow the bleeding enough to get you to camp," Applebuck assured, her voice shifting into something sharper, something colder—practical and no-nonsense. A tone not unlike her uncle’s, the Hero of Hyrule himself. The Sheikah barely managed a faint "Yes, ma’am" before his body slumped into exhausted stillness. Tulin wasted no time. In one fluid motion, he drew his bow, nocked three magic fire arrows, and loosed them into the dense foliage. The enchanted flames crackled as they struck, briefly illuminating the shadows before flickering into embers. Then, with a powerful beat of his wings, he summoned a gust to widen his range, ensuring their pursuers—if there were any—would think twice before advancing too quickly. "That should buy us a few minutes," he said, already turning. "Let’s move." Apple buck met his gaze, nodded, and without another word, they took off into the night. "Well… this is a problem." Purah, Director of Reconstructions, exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against her temples as if she could physically knead away the stress. "A whole underground—an entirely new Hyrule right beneath our feet…" Princess Zelda murmured, her golden eyes wide with a mixture of astonishment, intrigue, and no small amount of excitement. Across the room, Link chuckled softly. Watching Zelda get this animated was always a treat—her excitement bubbling up like an overflowing potion. It was cute, in a way that made him bite back a grin. Even Purah, despite her weariness, couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. But that moment of warmth quickly gave way to another sigh—this one heavier, laden with the weight of responsibility. "It might sound hypocritical coming from me," Purah admitted, folding her arms. "But business before research, Zeldy. Business before research. Then Linky can take us on a date down there." "Oh! R-right, of course." Zelda straightened, a light blush dusting her cheeks as she quickly turned her attention back to the report in her hands. A subtle glance passed between Purah and Link, a silent conversation unfolding in a single shared look. (How long before she realizes?) Both smirked. A bet was about to be made.
