"—for a whole day, if it comes to that? You need sleep too, don't you?"

"I can stay up for a day." He thinks. He feels rested now, so 24 hours shouldn't be a problem.

She thinks for a moment, casts another longing glance at the bed, and then nods decisively. "All right. I'll see you when I wake, then."

And she lies down on the At Least Moderately Bed-Like Object and is nigh-immediately out like a light.

That was fast.

Link spends a few more seconds staring at Zelda, trying to dig up any memory of her, but it's of no use. He checks around the cabin, better this time than the last time he was here: searching for vermin, molds, defensive and structural weaknesses. He takes a patrol of the perimeter outside once the interior is confirmed secure. There's good visibility around, but there's also a Bokoblin camp to the north he'll have to keep an eye from.

The old man is nowhere to be seen.

There's a cooking pot out here with sight on both the front door of the cabin and the monster camp. The back of the cabin faces the cliff of the plateau. He doesn't expect danger, not really. It's not proper protocol, but he strikes up a fire and puts on a stew to simmer. Mushrooms and bird meat, some herbs he picked up.

Once the pot is going, he goes back in to check on Zelda.

Zelda sleeps like someone caught between total exhaustion and a lot of things to have nightmares about. She doesn't move much, but she makes unhappy noises and flinches from nothing.

Link does not know what do with this.

She probably doesn't want to be woken up. Is there something specific that's distressing her? He can't find anything. He knows that people get nightmares. He doesn't remember what you're supposed to do about it. The answer may be nothing.

When the stew has been on for long enough it won't give anyone food poisoning, he'll make a small bowl and put it beside the bed. The rest still has a good many hours left to simmer properly.

When he goes out again, the old man is sitting on a stump by the gorge to the west.

What does he want. He's pretty sure the old man is helping, or thinks he is, but these cryptic games are tiring.

"How... is she."

"Who are you?"

"There is no point in concealing it. I am... I was her father."

Link is missing all of his memories, but he doesn't think that's how fathers work.

"I failed her, one hundred years ago. I failed this kingdom. So many years she has been trapped in that castle... I cannot understand how she is here now, but I fear what might happen in the days to come. Her sacred power is awakened, but she cannot defeat Calamity Ganon alone. I must implore you, with all my heart: protect her. Protect Zelda, my precious daughter."

His voice breaks.

"The kingdom depends on you two now."

Link got distracted realizing that if Zelda is a Princess, and this man is her father, that means he's the King, which means Link should be kneeling in deference, except the King himself said that the Kingdom of Hyrule is no more—and now he's rewinding all the rude things he said to the King—

Then he remembers he's being spoken to and attempts to remember what the King's been saying.

"I will," he says, of course. After a pause, "She's having trouble sleeping."

The King looks confused.

"Trouble... sleeping?"

Link shrugs. "Nightmares? What do I do?"

The King closes his mouth.

"Hum."

He rubs his chin, acquiring a perturbed look.

"I... don't know? The nursemaids never... soporifics, perhaps?"

This is his unimpressed look.

He stands, leaning on his cane.

"...I know that you will triumph over the obstacles to come. I believe in you, Link."

Next Link blinks, the old man is gone.

...He can probably do a calming elixir, though, if he manages to remember the right ingredients.

Zelda's rest continues in the same restless vein for about two-thirds of a day, whereupon she sits bolt upright with a sharp gasp, abruptly awake.

Link is outside the door by the cooking pot sharpening, a sword with a bit of flint.

He looks up when he hears her gasp. He sets down his tools and walks over.

"Feeling better?"

"...well, I'm awake," she says wryly, starting to stretch and then wincing when her body reminds her of what she put it through yesterday. "How long was I out?"

Link looks at the sky.

"Less than a day. Fifteen hours?" He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "Food?"

"Good to know. —yes. Food. Food is good." She hauls herself out of bed, wincing again on the way.