The legend of AB: Epona´s Filly, Hero´s apprentice.

“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.