This scene takes place between the final chapter of the Circle of Destiny and the Epilogue and concerns Valens, Link and Zelda's adopted son.


Prince Valens was alone in the Sanctuary, kneeling before the altar. On the wall in front of him was a large wood carving depicting the three goddesses who protected Hyrule. But on the altar there was nothing but a plain white linen cloth and on top of that lay a naked sword.

But it wasn't just any sword; it belonged to Link and it had been handed down through his family for generations—all the way back to Laertes, one of the last Knights of Hyrule. It was this origin—as well as the fact that Link still carried it—that made it a venerated object among the Knights of Hyrule. All of them spent the night before their knighting in a vigil with the sword. It was both a connection to their monarch and patriarch of their re-founded order, as well as to the knights who came before.

Valens was supposed to be praying to the goddesses to help him be a good knight—to purge him of impure thoughts and actions—to help him choose the right path—but he couldn't seem to concentrate on anything as abstract as prayer. Instead, he was thinking about the sword and all the men who had visited him earlier in the evening.

It was traditional, once the candidate had been sequestered in the Sanctuary for the night, for other knights to visit him and offer their admonitions. The next day, once he had been given the accolade and elevated to knighthood, everyone would congratulate him and praise his fine qualities, but the night before his elevation, everyone gave him serious lectures and warnings. They would point out his flaws and caution him against allowing those base elements hold sway. And they would deliver grim stories of men—never actual knights, but it was implied that none of them were immune from the same issues—who had fallen from grace due to lust or pride or disloyalty. Some even took the time to enumerate all the horrible consequences of failure—from public shame and humiliation, to execution as a traitor.

It was enough to make any man feel unworthy. And Valens was certainly no exception. He had spent the past two hours replaying their words in his head over and over again. He had been confident in his skills and pleased with his elevation before; now, he was sure he was going to ruin everything and be the first disgrace to the knighthood.

The bell ringing in the monastery made him jump; it was loud after the hours of silence. Normally it didn't ring the hours at night, but when someone was at vigil, it was rung every hour. Valens wasn't sure if it was comforting to think that others were keeping the night watch with him, or if it was a reminder that he was being watched—and judged. And every hour that passed was one hour closer to what was beginning to feel like an upcoming execution, not a celebration.

Regardless of what the tolling of the bell made him feel, it did signal one thing: he was allowed to eat.

Elevations were always a surprise to the candidates. Earlier that evening, he had sat down to dinner with the court, as usual, but just as dinner was being brought to the table, the king had stopped the servant, turned to Valens, and told him that he was not to eat; he was to keep his vigil instead.

The hall had erupted into applause as two knights came in and escorted a stunned Valens to a special room where he bathed and was dressed in a white tunic and pants. Then, barefoot, he was escorted out of the castle. In the courtyard, dozens of other knights—all of them, in fact—were waiting on him, each carrying a long candle in a gold staff. They escorted him through the dark city in a silent procession. Along the route, people leaned out of windows or ran up to the edges of the procession, craning their necks to see who the new knight was going to be.

Once at the Sanctuary, Valens had been instructed by the abbot on what he was supposed to do during his vigil, then he was given a half hour alone to collect his thoughts. Then the other knights began coming in, one at a time, to talk to him.

When the bell rang the hour, he was allowed to eat from the bread that had been left out for him—one half-loaf per hour. Water was the only thing he was allowed to drink. He would keep his fast until after his knighting the following morning. At eight, he would be dressed in proper clothes, then escorted by all the knights back to the castle. Around nine, the king would knight him in the throne room in front of the court, the knights, and all the populace that had managed to secure a ticket.

Only then would he go back to the hall, where everything began, and break his fast with a hearty brunch.

Valens pushed himself up, wincing as he slowly straightened out his knees; they hurt after being on them for an hour. Then he slowly shuffled over to the table where his bread ration lay. He poured himself a cup of water, took one of the half loafs, then sat down in a pew to eat and rest his knees a little.

"Is this seat taken?"

Valens jumped so much, he nearly spilled the cup of water all over himself.

He turned to see the king standing at the end of the row, smiling at him. "Did I startle you?" he asked.

"Yes," Valens said, practically panting; his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. "I didn't hear you come in at all."

Link chuckled. "I had to learn to be quiet years ago, and I've never broken the habit. Your mother hates it when I sneak up on her," he added with a mischievous grin.

"I bet." Valens didn't think his mother, the queen, would take kindly to that sort of surprise. And yet he knew she would suffer it because it was Link. She would forgive him anything… once she got over being angry. Link had admitted once that he sometimes liked to make her mad on purpose. Valens didn't understand why—his mother had always scared him when she was angry—but either her anger at Link was never real, or he knew how to turn it off as easily as he could turn it on; they invariably ended up having a good laugh at the end.

"I thought I would keep the three o'clock watch with you," Link said, as he came over and took a seat beside Valens. "They say that this is the hour when the Other World is closest to ours—when it's easiest for demons to seize control of our dreams and give us nightmares—or even cross into our world if evil people give them help. No one should be alone then—even during a vigil."

Valens was reminded that his parents had battled those demons up close and personal. Perhaps it was as a reminder of those Dark Days—or maybe out of a very real fear—that the night watch was always doubled in the castle and city in the hour between three and four in the morning.

"So, how is it going?" Link asked.

Valens shook his head. "I'm not sure if I can do this." But instead of being concerned, Link just laughed.

Link's laughter—as always—was warm, and it seemed quite at odds with the austerity of the evening and the stern admonitions Valens had gotten from all the other knights. It broke the almost-judgmental silence of the Sanctuary like a discordant note.

"You'll make it," he said confidently. "Everyone always does it."

"But I'm not as good as everyone else."

Link chuckled. "That's what everyone thinks. That's what they're supposed to think," he added. "Everyone needs a big dose of humility going into their knighthood. But it's never meant to tear you down completely—just take you down a few notches."

Valens looked at him. "Are you just telling me this because you're my father and you feel sorry for me?"

He laughed again; he seemed to be in a genuinely good mood. "No, actually, I always come in last and make sure no one is going to back out." He looked at Valens appreciatively. "You seem to be doing pretty well, though; you're not crying, at least."

Valens was surprised. "Someone cried?"

"A few have, actually. I've never decided if that's because they're such good people, it hurts them to think they might fail and disappoint others, or if they're so prideful, it hurts them when they're forced to face their flaws.

"But, they've all turned out well, so it must be the former."

"Maybe it's both," Valens pointed out. "I think I feel both of those things."

Link nodded. "I can understand that." Then he shrugged. "Maybe some people just react differently to the stress. Some cry and some just worry internally."

Valens looked at him. "What was it like for you?"

"For me? Oh, it was much, much worse than this. You only have to go through this one night; I went through this for years."

Valens was horrified. "What do you mean?"

"You've had others pointing out your flaws." He tapped his temple with the tip of his finger. "I always pointed out my own. I constantly worried that I would never become a knight—that I would never be good enough for Zelda—that I would never be accepted by the people of Hyrule."

Valens gaped at him in disbelief. "You… not a knight? Not good enough?"

Link was adored beyond measure throughout Hyrule—not just by all of his children and the knights he had trained, but by all of the people. Zelda was beloved, too, of course, but she was still a traditional monarch in many ways. She was the one seen doing much of the administration and governing. She was the one who was firm and stern when such things were needed.

But Link was one with the people. He frequently wandered out into the city—even rode around the kingdom from time to time—and talked to people as if they friends. He made them feel that he cared—and he did care. If he and Zelda were viewed as parents—and many people thought of them that way, to some extent—he was the easy-going father figure who slipped you a treat with a wink and a whisper of, "don't tell your mother."

Valens couldn't imagine a time before that—before Link was anything but revered.

"Do you know that I'm the first commoner who has ever sat on the throne of Hyrule in recorded history?" Link said.

"You were a knight before you were a king," Valens argued. "And weren't you the Lord High Chancellor as well?"

"Yes, but my father was a fisherman—of a family of fishermen. I can be given all the titles in the world, but that doesn't change the fact that my blood is common."

Valens scoffed. "What does that matter?"

Link laughed. "It doesn't matter much at all anymore, but that's because your mother and I have worked hard to blur those lines—to make it so that talent and hard work count for just as much as being born into the right family. It wasn't like that before; I had to blaze that trail. I suffered that doubt and fear so that you, my common-born prince, wouldn't have to."

That reminded Valens of something he had been meaning to ask his father for a long time, but hadn't had the courage to ask. Now that they were alone and being honest with one another, it seemed an appropriate time. Besides, if he couldn't find the courage to ask now, on the eve of his knighting, would he really deserve to be a knight?

"About that…" Valens said slowly. "I've been meaning to ask you…."

"Yes?" Link asked, when he didn't continue.

Valens looked down at his hands in his lap, steeling himself for the worst-possible news, then he quickly looked up at Link. "Do you know who my parents are? If you do… I want to know."

Link took a deep breath.

"I know you have probably known for a long time—maybe you've always known," Valens continued—"but you didn't say anything to keep from hurting me. Or maybe from hurting them. But… I think I have a right to know. I will promise not to tell, if you say so, but… I want to know."

"Valens, we don't know who your parents are."

Valens searched Link's blue eyes for some indication that he might not be telling the truth—that even now, he might be lying because he thought it would be best for Valens, or maybe because he had sworn an oath never to tell.

But the eyes that met his were unflinching.

"I swear to you, on my honor, we do not know," Link repeated with finality.

That was it then. He wasn't lying; he really didn't know.

Valens looked down at his hands again. "I… I had heard that I was the bastard child of one of your descendants—that they were too ashamed to acknowledge me, but they left me with you, knowing you would take care of me because I was family."

Link winced a little as he lifted his left arm—the shoulder was arthritic now and pained him almost constantly—but he put it around Valens' shoulders and pulled him close.

Valens sighed inwardly—his fear and uncertainty melting away as he rested his head on Link's shoulder. It didn't seem to matter that he was an adult now, ready to become a knight; his father's embrace still comforted him just as much as it had when he was a child.

Link softly stroked his hair. "We heard that rumor, too," he admitted. "That started going around as soon as we took you in. And your mother and I actually sat down with a list and went over it, trying to see if there was anyone we knew that you might belong to. We eliminated everyone too old or too young to have children, and those who were married—presuming they would have no reason to abandon their child. That eliminated the vast majority of the list. We went through all of the remaining women and confirmed that none of them were visibly pregnant just prior to your birth.

"Of course, that doesn't account for fathers. It's possible that one of our descendants fathered you on someone who was not his wife. But if that's true, we don't know who it was. We've never even heard a credible rumor of who it might be.

"I think you were probably born to some poor woman who saw that you were Hylian and immediately thought of us—and decided that we could take care of you better than she could."

Valens was skeptical. "That doesn't seem too likely, does it? I mean, that my mother—my birth mother—just happened to have a Hylian child without being Hylian or being with a Hylian man?"

"Why not?" Link asked. "Neither of my parents were Hylian—nor Zelda's. And Catherine's parents weren't Hylian either."

That was true. Catherine—Zeyde's wife—had been common-born; neither of her parents had been Hylian.

"I know this matters to you," Link said, "and I wish I could help you find out, to give you peace of mind. But I feel—and have always felt—that you were a gift from the gods, so it's never much mattered to me where you came from; you came from them, and that's all I need to know."

Valens was surprised and a little confused by his words. "What do you mean?"

Link smiled, looking almost sheepish. "Your mother has always joked that we have fourteen children because we didn't want to have fifteen. But, the truth is… I wanted another child.

"I don't fault Zelda for being tired of being pregnant and having to go through the pain of childbirth. And I would never wish any suffering on her. But, after Jared, I still wanted another baby. And, I must admit, I prayed for one even though I knew Zelda was ready to quit and would likely never conceive again anyways. I prayed for a long time, even after it became obvious that she wouldn't have any more children.

"Then, long after I had given up all hope, you came along out of the blue, and I felt that my prayers had, at last, been answered. It seemed a win-win situation: I got one more child and Zelda didn't have to go through childbirth to have you."

Valens felt touched, but also a little perplexed. "Why did you want another child, though? Wasn't fourteen really enough?"

Link shrugged a little. "I just found that I liked being a father. I liked walking the floors in the middle of the night, just me and my baby. I liked teaching my children to talk and to walk. I liked giving them something or taking them somewhere and getting to see the delight in their eyes when they saw something wonderful for the first time—and for a small child, everything is wonderful.

"I have loved all of my grandchildren, and great-nephews and –nieces, and cousins, but, at the end of the day, or the end of the week, or the end of the month, someone invariably comes to take them home, and the castle is a little quieter and a little lonelier for it. It's not the same as having your own child that you can tuck into bed every night and know that he'll be there tomorrow, and the next day, and for as long as it takes for him to grow up."

Valens thought about what his father had said. "You like being needed," he said after a few moments.

Link chuckled a little. "Yes, I suppose so. I spent seventeen of the first eighteen years of my life training for my quest—for the time when I would be needed. And then I spent the better part of a year on that quest. But when it was all said and done, I couldn't live just for myself—couldn't live a normal life; I didn't know how. …I still don't know how."

He looked at Valens. "Does it disappoint you to know I need my children—that they give me a sense of purpose?"

"Not at all."

"I didn't think it would," he said with a smile. Then he kissed Valens on the temple and slowly pushed himself to his feet with a soft grunt. "My knees say I've been sitting here for an hour," he said.

As if waiting for his pronouncement, the bell outside the Sanctuary rang four times.

Link looked at Valens as if to say, "See?" then he grabbed half a loaf of bread from the table and gave Valens a saucy wink. "See you in a few hours."

He slowly ambled towards the door, unapologetically chowing down on Valens' loaf of bread. Valens watched him go—the same familiar figure he had always known—right down to pilfering bites of food just to tease.

Valens suddenly stood up. "Father…" he called out.

Link turned around. "Yes?"

"I want…." Suddenly Valens choked up with the thought of what he was about to say. He had to struggle to get the words out before he began to cry. "I want you to know… there's no one I admire more in this world than you, and…" tears began to run down his face, "and I wish I could be like you—I want to be like you."

Valens could see that Link was having to struggle not to cry as well. But he finally managed to paste a watery smile on his face. "Thank you," he said softly. "But I hope you realize that I wish I was more like me; I don't always live up to my legendary reputation.

"And that's the last thing that you must know as a knight—and something I had a hard time coming to terms with: we're all flawed beings. Even the Knights of Hyrule—including me—cannot be perfect all the time. But what makes you a knight—what sets you apart from everyone else—is that you acknowledge your faults and always try to correct them. You will never be perfect, but neither are you free to stop trying to reach perfection. Our greatest struggle—the demon we all must fight—is always within ourselves."

Valens nodded. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

Link smiled more genuinely. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Link walked out, quietly shutting the door behind him. Valens sat down again and thought about what Link said for some time before he realized that he had not gotten his food and water that he was allowed on the hour.

He went to the sideboard—wondering, since he was now short a piece of bread, if he should eat now and go without later, or skip the bread and get back on schedule next hour—when he noticed a small wrapped package. Curious—because it hadn't been on the table before—he opened it immediately.

Inside was a chunk of chocolate imported from Shi-Ha—and which happened to be Valens' favorite sweet.

He sat down, looking at the gift in his hands, tears welling up in his eyes again, and he knew his father was wrong—Link was the man everyone thought he was. And as soon as he had eaten, he returned to his kneeling position at the altar, now confident he knew what to pray for.

"Make me like my father," he whispered.


Update 2/20/17: There is now a spinoff story available. You can find it by using the search box to search for "Writer" using my name, KeriPeardon. The new story is entitled "Legacy."