Zelda could only stare, her mind racing to keep up with Alastor as he spoke, taking in everything he said and checking it against the myriad memories that have begun surfacing since yesterday. 'Some time' was quite the understatement—over sixty years had passed since the princess woke from Songerein.

She flinched as he flicked a claw against her hair. One hand left the hilt of the Master Sword and went up to absently touch the offended strand. His remark, while heard, was quickly swept away in the rush of unfolding memories.

Despite the vast gulf in time, memories bubbled up with startling clarity, particularly those of an eccentric, ever-grinning demon—and they all clicked into place the moment he introduced himself.

"Alastor!" she repeated with a tone of sudden clarity.