I Want to Believe is a Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild fan comic by pittssmitts. It takes place three years after the events of the game during a diplomatic visit by a now Queen Zelda to Zora’s Domain. Link, still appointed knight to Zelda, accompanies her and reunites with Sidon, who has been harboring feelings for Link for years. During their reunion, Link comes to terms not only with his reluctance toward the destiny thrust upon him, but he also realizes that he is finally able to accept his own feelings for Sidon as he is now truly free to peruse his own happiness.
How does the comic deconstruct the archetype of Link, the destined hero?
When thinking about recognizable video game characters, several of them quickly come to mind: Mario, Sonic, Pac-Man... The list could easily keep going. However, when asked to think about a video game character that best exemplifies the classic notion of a hero, it is safe to argue that most people familiar with video games would immediately think of Link. In terms of characterization, Link is an interesting case. He was first conceived essentially as an avatar for the player, hence the name: he is a Link between the player and the game experience. As the Legend of Zelda series grew, so did Link’s characterization and the mythos surrounding him. After 35 years of development, he is now a constantly reincarnating hero of destiny, blessed with the Triforce of Courage and wielder of the Master Sword, tasked with defeating Demise and his own reincarnations. This creates a peculiar character that is loaded with importance, but little to no personal details about himself as he is still meant to be an avatar. The question at hand is “what did Link have to say about all this?”
Credit: pittssmitts
A five-panel page.
First panel: Sidon and Link are sitting side by side in Zora’s Domain at sunset. Sidon is looking at Link intently, mouth slightly open, as Link pours his heart out, frantically talking with his hands.
Link: I eat and I breathe and I sleep, but ultimately, are my actions my own — or are they planned out by some predestined force? Has Hylia restrained not just my prophecy but my life?
Second panel: A close-up of Link, face pained with frustration.
Link: Do I have any sense of free will at all?
Third panel: A close-up of Sidon, stunned speechless.
Fourth panel: A profiled shot of Link as he continues to vent, with Sidon listening in the background.
Link: I never asked to be champion. If I could choose, I would have given that burden to someone else.
Fifth panel: Link brings his shaking hands to his face.
Link: I did the job, yes, but what now? What do I do? I’m not used to not following orders.
This leads to another of Link’s trademark — yet not unique — traits: he is a silent protagonist. He doesn’t have any dialog of his own, unlike every other character in the game. What few responses he does give out are all preprogrammed options which are then selected by the player. The previous panels present this metatextual dynamic as a textual driving point: has Link’s life been completely predetermined by destiny? Is it his role to simply vanquish evil and then fade into legend as his other reincarnations have? This is where the core thesis of I Want to Believe lies: what about Link’s happiness? It is a challenge to the archetype of the hero that has been so deeply rooted in popular storytelling. A hero’s happiness doesn’t really matter because heroes are inherently selfless. Accomplishing their goal and fulfilling their journey is all they desire out of life. If their story revolves rescuing a damsel in distress, then tradition dictates that the damsel be his prize to live happily ever after with. But what if, argues I Want to Believe, the hero wants to be with the prince that helped him on his journey to rescue said damsel?
Credit: pittssmitts
A five-panel page.
First panel: A close-up of Sidon, looking slightly distressed.
Sidon: I’m… I’m sorry to hear that. I suppose my perception of you has changed.
Second panel: A close-up of Link as he turns to Sidon. He looks puzzled with his drooped ears.
Third panel: A close-up of Link from behind, wearing his Champion’s Tunic, the Master Sword and a battle-worn Hylian Shield on his back. He is surrounded by a fiery background.
Sidon (off-panel): I had thought that you always carried that sword proudly… that you were… honored by it.
Fourth panel: A profiled shot of Link laughing out loud as he looks at Sidon (off-panel) out of the corner of his eye.
Fifth panel: A profiled shot of Link leaning forward, gaze to the ground in contemplation.
Link: Not once. Not since I’ve woken up. Maybe before, but —
For the archetypical hero, the journey may certainly be challenging and grueling, and the burden of destiny may be heavy at times. Ultimately, however, destiny also provides a clear road map of the path ahead. When a hero is destined to accomplish a feat, the element of “choice” is removed from the equation. This leads to a figure without any semblance of personal choice to begin with due to their inherently selfless nature, a figure which also knows which path to choose to best accomplish his goal because destiny is on his side. In I Want to Believe, Link has arrived at the realization that he has been forced to follow a script with little to no say in the matter. The symbols that are considered to be the highest of honors — the Champion’s Tunic, the Hylian Shield, and the Master Sword — never bought Link any personal joy. As explicitly stated in Breath of the Wild, Link’s personality changed radically after being appointed Zelda’s knight and later the Hylian Champion; he went from being expressive and jovial to stoic and reserved, as heroes are expected to be. I Want to Believe finally gives Link a voice to challenge that perception of him and the expectations that robbed him of his life.