Filling Graves with Ghosts - TallyAce (2024)

Chapter 1: Relaxation Doesn't Come Easy to Princesses

Chapter Text

There was just so much to take in.

Zelda all but collapsed back against the cold wall of silver and stone. She breathed in, tasting the moisture on her tongue and feeling it at the bottom of her lungs. Despite being indoors, Zelda couldn’t escape the oppressive moisture in the air of Zora’s Domain. It didn’t bother her as she slumped her full weight against the wall, tilting her head back until her chin was pointed at the ceiling. It had felt like years since she had last had a chance to stop and simply breathe. It probably had been years, but Zelda wasn’t too keen to get lost scavenging through memories of her own past to see if that thought held any truth.

Not now. Not with the Calamity at its height and her sealing powers still absent.

She reasoned with herself that she should be doing something. There was so much that needed to be addressed, so many things left to be done, and yet she couldn’t pull herself from the wall. So against the voice screaming in her head to move, and the anxiety threatening to send more bile up her throat, Zelda stood and gave herself time to just breathe.

Her eyes had slid closed without her consent, not that she minded enough to pry them open. Or rather, she wasn’t sure she would have the energy to even if she tried. She hoped she would be able to muster the energy soon, however, just in case she needed to pull herself back to action before she could drift to sleep.

Because truly, how unruly would that look? A princess, falling asleep while standing.

Zora’s Domain had been a wreck when Zelda and the others had arrived—each road and bridge completely overridden by all manner of Ganon’s beasts. It was by a divine miracle that the Domain was even still standing at the end of the day. But the end of the ordeal was not the end for Zelda, who had spent nearly two hours thanking as many of the soldiers as she possibly could and comforting the families and children that wandered the paths of Zora’s Domain. Everyone was terrified to put it lightly. Zelda herself included.

King Dorephan had been kind enough to offer Zelda and her Champions some spare rooms to rest in for as long as they needed. She suspected that they would use them no longer than a single night, but that didn’t stop the King from insisting they stay longer. It didn’t matter to Zelda whether she had a place to sleep or not, she wasn’t going to spend much time asleep anyway.

Case in point, instead of resting in the few moments of peace she had—just as everyone else was doing—Zelda was instead slumped against a wall in a random hall of an unfamiliar castle. She wasn’t even sure where in the building she was, she had simply begun to walk the halls with no care as to where her feet were taking her.

When she felt her thoughts begin to drag behind her she forced her eyes open. Everything was still, quiet. She would have mistaken it for serene if the events of the day weren’t so painfully engrained at the front of her mind.

She let her eyes wander around every inch of the empty hall while she debated standing up or not. She glazed over her knight, only to flick back to stare at him when she noticed his eyes trained on her. It was hard to ignore them, a blue striking enough to rival that of the sky . . . that was to say, when the sky wasn’t bleeding red as it had been since mid-morning.

She pulled herself up to stand from her slouch. Neither she nor her knight broke eye-contact as she did. He looked tired. She felt the same. The little guardian peeked out from behind her knight’s legs when Zelda stretched her arms with a sigh. It whistled once, quietly enough as to not disturb the silence of the night.

“Hello,” Zelda whispered back to it. The guardian was content with being acknowledged, happily whistling once before emerging from its hiding spot behind her knight. It balanced on his boots, wobbling a bit on its three legs—though her knight paid it no mind.

She found herself smiling despite the overwhelming emotion in the back of her throat. The little guardian had that effect on her, always managing to brighten her up just enough. It was a clingy little thing, always just a few steps away at any given time. She had nearly taken to calling it her “puppy” until she realized that could possibly be taken as an insult to her knight, who trailed behind in much the same manner. Zelda didn’t think he would appreciate being compared to a dog. Even if it was slightly endearing in its own way.

Glancing down the hall, Zelda was met with unfamiliarity both ways. The blue of Zora’s Domain was beautiful in the day, but it blended together into a mess of darkness in the night. The small sculptures of luminescent stone helped a touch with visibility, but not enough for Zelda to recognize anything she could use as a landmark.

Besides, she wasn’t even sure where she wanted to go to begin with. If she returned to her room she knew for a fact she would be unable to sleep. And it wasn’t like she could knock on someone’s door and keep herself entertained with the stories of another. She was positive that only her and her knight were awake, and she was in no particular mood to disrupt anyone’s sleep. Glancing down at her muddied prayer dress and the dirt coating her legs, Zelda pursed her lips.

“Do you know your way around the Domain?” It was worth a shot to ask, she reasoned with herself. There was a vague memory of Mipha telling Zelda about her knight visiting the Domain in his childhood, after all. She glanced at her knight from the corner of her eye, noticing that his attention still had yet to leave her.

“Yes, princess,” he answered only when she looked at him.

“Then would you happen to know where the washroom is?” A thought crossed Zelda’s mind and forced her to a stop. The zora were a water dwelling race, would they even have a use for such facilities? “Or rather . . . if there exists a washroom in the Domain?”

He took a moment to think, glancing away from her for the briefest of seconds before meeting her eyes again. “There’s a small bathhouse for visitors outside the inn.”

That wasn’t helpful at all. She hadn’t even known the Domain had an inn. “Would you mind leading me there?”

He nodded in response and lightly kicked the guardian off his feet, earning a rather loud whistle of complaint in return. Zelda fell into step behind her knight as he led her down the halls at a snail's pace. She noticed him glancing back every so often, as if checking that she was still following and hadn’t wandered off and gotten lost.

He had good reason to be paranoid, Zelda didn’t blame him in the slightest for it. She was fearful too.

At first Zelda attempted to memorize the path he was leading her down, so she could at least get a better grasp for the layout of the Domain. After a few minutes, however, it became impossible for her to remember just how many stairs and turns had been taken. The ceilings towered above the two of them, built for the Zora royal family and their massive height. It only made Zelda feel small and sheepish, like a kid who had wandered off and gotten lost. She supposed she had gotten a little lost, else her knight would not be guiding her back to familiarity.

A cold breeze bit against Zelda’s neck, a cold welcome for her as she stepped out from the maze of silver and stone. She hugged her arms around her, unprepared for the freezing chill of night. The changing of the seasons would come soon, bringing ice and snow across the majority of Hyrule. Unlike her father, who despised the colder seasons, Zelda had always been fond of the snow. She hoped Hyrule would last long enough that she could perhaps see it one last time.

Her knight came to a stop and turned to face her. He nodded his head toward a door just to the right of the small open-air inn and nothing more. Hesitantly, Zelda surveyed every inch she could of the door and surrounding walls. It seemed to be fully closed off, unlike nearly everything else in the domain, so that was a blessing. She wasn’t sure what she would do if the bathhouse was open-air.

No, she knew what she would have done. She would have taken a bath in her clothes, unconcerned if her knight thought less of her for it.

Zelda stepped around her knight, nudging the little guardian closer to him with a discreet kick of her foot. “Thank you,” she said when enough distance had been put between her and the guardian. “I’ll be in there cleaning up. I shouldn’t take very long.”

Again, he didn’t answer her with words, just a curt nod before turning his attention away from the bathhouse. Before, his silence would grind on her nerves. It was never enough to actually irritate her, but always just enough to occupy a space in the back of her thoughts. She supposed she couldn’t help it if he was quiet, he was supposed to be her knight and not her personal conversationalist.

But as of late, especially after . . . everything, she found his silent company to be comfortable. She wasn’t sure she could hold much conversation as she were, much less if someone wanted to speak about the events of the day. She knew she would have to talk about it, and soon at that, but she could sit in comfortable silence for a little bit longer before then.

Zelda leaned against the door after it clicked shut. Giving the bathhouse a once-over, Zelda realized that her knight hadn’t been joking when he called it small. There was just enough room for a small tub and toilet, but Zelda supposed she had to be thankful it even had that much. The floor was the same cool stone as the rest of the domain, and Zelda hesitated taking off her sandals. She was already cold enough as is.

Further exploration of the bathhouse took Zelda all of thirty seconds, just enough time to peer into the tub and investigate the water system. It had a hand pump, one near identical to the ones used in Kakariko Village. A little pool of dread dropped into Zelda's gut. The baths in Kakariko weren’t heated, water needing to be warmed over a fire bucket by bucket. It made for a painfully slow process just to take a bath.

Not having any other option if she wanted to get clean, Zelda resigned herself to a cold bath. She was pleasantly surprised to discover that the water was heated. If she had been of a clear head Zelda would’ve sat in the bathhouse for hours trying to figure out how the Zora water system worked. She would have questioned where the pump led to, if it was pulling water from the communal pools which were similarly heated.

She was not of a clear head, however. So instead of listening to the quiet little scientist in the back of her thoughts she filled the tub and undressed. She tossed her dress and jewelry into a haphazard heap on the ground before gritting her teeth and slipping her sandals off. A cold chill shot up her spine as her feet hit the frigid ground. Quickly stepping into the tub alleviated that brief chill as warmth seeped into every muscle in her body.

With the tension bleeding into the water Zelda sank into the relief. She shut her eyes and dipped her head under the water; it was pure bliss, and she could feel the dirt leaving her scalp. She re-emerged just enough so that everything up to her nose was still submerged. There was some calm found in watching the water ripple with each breath she took.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t find any soap nearby, but the water was more than enough for the time being. It wasn’t like anyone would complain if she didn’t smell like a field of summer flowers, she was surrounded by soldiers who had not even seen a bath in weeks for goddesses sake.

In the serenity of the water Zelda no longer had anything to focus her mind on but her own thoughts. For the first time since the morning she was faced with the full force of everything that had happened. She huffed through her nose, watching the shock of breath wave through the surface of the water. The last fifteen hours had been more than eventful, she was sure the court poet could fill a whole scripture with just tales of that day.

It was believed they would have until the night on her seventeenth birthday until Ganon rose, that was what the little guardian had shown them. Everyone in Castle Town had been made aware of the time limit, families preparing to pack up and leave for the inevitable rise. But Ganon had risen much earlier than anticipated. A few of the families had already evacuated, thank the gods. But most of them… They hadn’t even begun to pack.

After all, her seventeenth birthday wasn’t for another week.

Zelda tried to not think about how many people were lost, but she couldn’t help the guilt and horror that clawed at her thoughts. The faces of her handmaidens burned her thoughts, the ones who surely would have been within the castle that morning, going about their day as usual. She thought of the old cook who used to sneak her slices of cake after her prayers, telling her that he used to do the same for her mother. She thought about the knights who helped her carry mountains of books from the library, or entertained her with stories of their previous battles. She thought about her father…

She groaned, running her fingers through wet hair. She couldn’t get lost in grief now, not when there was still so much to come. There were more hopeful things to think about, like their success in wrangling the Divine Beasts back under control. Though, that was mostly thanks to the allies from the future which was . . . a whole new can of worms to dig into.

Riju and Teba were the first two to arrive, and the first to inform Zelda of the future they hailed from. When she met up with Sidon and Yunobo the situation had been clarified a bit. They were Hyrule’s New Champions. Ones who had assisted in the hundred year defeat of Ganon after Zelda and the original Champions failed. They all had some variation of a “bright glowing portal opening up and spitting them out inside a Divine Beast” story, leading Zelda to believe it was the same power that brought them all together. None of them chose to delve much further into the events of the future, however, leaving big gaps for Zelda to ponder over.

Speculation and vague backgrounds aside, they all seemed like good people. Sidon in particular was especially kind hearted, and the most open about speaking of the future when asked. Though he remained close to Mipha most of the day, so Zelda hadn’t spent much time with him. Riju and Teba she had only spoken to once or twice after initially meeting them, and Yunobo was so shy she didn’t think he had even said more than five words to her. But they all seemed determined to help, so Zelda didn’t think they could be all that bad.

She still had to thank them all for saving the Champions. She’d meant to thank them earlier, but the words wouldn’t form each time she tried. It was hard to voice her gratitude, especially knowing just how close the Champions had come to failing. The four of them stood tall and proud throughout the day, as if they had not been within inches of their life just earlier than morning. Her brain certainly couldn’t register it; the fact that they had all been just seconds away from breathing their final breath.

Zelda wasn’t sure what she would do without the Champions. If they had died–

Seconds turned to minutes and the warmth turned to cold. Begrudgingly, Zelda scooped water into her hands one last time, pouring it over her hair with a small sigh. Searching around the floor of the small tub she found the cork and pulled it out, setting it aside while the water slowly began to drain into Goddess knows where.

She stood and wringed her hair out. Then she froze, staring at the pile of dirty clothes on the floor and the barren walls. She had no towel, she had no spare clothes.

She groaned, goddesses damned it all, she was a mess. With no other choice she slid her dirty dress on. It stuck to her skin, becoming soaked in water just seconds after putting it on. It felt gross, and with her sopping hair and dirty dress she probably looked as if she had crawled out of a swamp.

That was certainly how she felt as she walked out of the bathhouse. Her knight was still standing there, his back to her—though he glanced back over his shoulder when he heard her leave. The little guardian darted out from beside her knight, happily chirping as it danced circles around Zelda without any care if she was a soggy mess or not. She met her knight’s eyes, and with a small nod he once again led her through the Domain.

Aside from the occasional chirps and whistles from the small guardian and the wet plop of her sandals on the floor, the walk back to her room was otherwise silent. The sword on her knight’s back glared at her the whole way, the gem on its hilt catching in the faint bluish green light. It used to haunt her, seeing him pull it those three months ago and seeing it strapped to his back since. She supposed it still did haunt her, the weight of the blade towering over her.

After witnessing that same blade carve through malice and bone alike not hours ago, gripped in red stained hands, Zelda couldn’t help but wonder if it felt heavy to her knight as well.

The tall ornate double doors standing before her pulled a sigh from Zelda. Everything about the Domain felt so big, making her feel small in comparison—both literally and metaphorically. When her knight pushed one of the doors open and she stepped inside she found herself not in her own room, but one very similar. She guessed it to be her knight’s, with his dented slate sitting alone on the still made bed.

She turned around with a question on her tongue as her knight followed her inside. She didn’t voice her curiosity as he brushed past her, snatching the slate off his bed and fumbling with the screen. She peered over his shoulder, watching the screens scroll past as he struggled to find whatever it was he was looking for. Out of everyone she had given a slate to, she noticed that it was her own knight who used it the least. Even Daruk, who struggled to grasp anything about the sheikah technology, used his more than her knight.

After a minute of increasingly frantic tapping her knight held his slate back to her. There was a slight look of triumph on his face when she took the slate from his hands. Turning the screen to face her, Zelda nearly did a double take. There, sitting neatly organized in her knight’s slate, was an obscenely large wardrobe. Flipping through the endless rows of shirts, pants, hats, and various accessories, Zelda was impressed. His slate's storage rivaled her own wardrobe back at the castle.

“Why are you showing me this?” She looked up, searching his face for even a hint of his thoughts.

“I thought you might want something clean to change into,’ he said, his words short. She noticed his hand slowly reach up towards the back of his neck. He refused to meet her eyes.

In any other situation Zelda may have refused, handing the slate back with excuses and thanks. She was tired and dirty, however, and the thought of slipping into something untouched by dirt and blood sounded like pure bliss. With a nod of her head and a silent thanks she began to snoop through the clothing.

Some of it was less practical than others, the strange rubber helmet and gerudo vai clothing being prime examples. She settled on pulling a plain red tunic and loose trousers from the slate. The fabric of the tunic was thick between her fingers, but also soft from wear.

“Thank you,” she settled on saying as she handed the slate back. Her knight only shrugged before tossing the slate back onto the bed and holding open the door for her.

Her room was a single door down. Just one to the right. She was unsure whether her knight had requested them to be boarded so close, or if it were King Dorephan’s own doing. Ever the gentleman, her knight stepped past her after shutting his own door with a silent click behind him. He pushed the towering door open and stepped aside, bowing his head at her.

His head didn’t raise even as Zelda brushed past him, the little guardian nearly stepping on her heels as it followed.

His head didn’t raise even as she reached out on a whim, setting her hand on his shoulder.

Nor did his head raise when she squeezed softly, surely getting his shirt wet in the process.

How could she convey what was devouring her heart like a snake would a mouse? That she hated everything he stood for, but couldn’t feel more grateful he was here by her side. That the blade buried into her heart in her nightmares and she wanted to know if he hated it as much as she did. That she wished he would smile at her like he had before the sword, when he was simply a guard that could and would be replaced at the drop of a hat.

He spoke for her.

“Sleep well,” he whispered to her in a voice that could be mistaken for that of a child’s. The honorific was absent. In the moment—her hand on her knight’s shoulder in an empty hall larger than either of them yet smaller than what they were forced to become—Zelda was not a princess, nor was Link a hero.

“...You as well.”

The door shut behind her, and Zelda stood soggy and alone in the cold, with clothes that did not belong to her gripped tightly in her arms.

Impa’s slate sat cradled in Zelda’s hands. The beeping pattern it had been echoing lulled for a moment, just as it had less than a minute ago. Zelda counted the seconds in her head, syncing her breaths to match the rhythm she’d heard loop many times already.

Two seconds.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds; it began at the start once more.

It was repeating a message that Zelda couldn’t understand from beeps alone, one it had been shouting through Zora’s Domain since sunrise. Impa sat on the edge of Zelda’s bed, her head in her hands with her fingers tangled in her undone hair. Unlike Zelda, she knew what message the slate was spewing, and she’d rushed to Zelda the moment it started.

Morse code, she had called it, a wordless means of communication used by the sheikah. Often only used for emergencies.

Zelda sighed when the beeping paused between words. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” came Impa’s quick response.

“We have to do something. Akkala—”

“I know.”

“But Robbie–” her breath caught in her throat and Zelda had to force herself to swallow it down. As much as Zelda hated to admit it, they were stuck. There was nothing that they could do to help. They weren’t strong enough to fight back. She wasn’t strong enough to fight back.

Her eyes drifted back down to the slate in her lap, Impa’s words twisting her stomach in a way that would’ve made her throw up if she had anything to throw up. “Ganon. Akkala Citadel. Attack. Soon. Nightfall. No hope.”

Impa’s hand rested on the screen of the slate before she pulled it from Zelda’s grip; she gave no resistance, and the slate slid from her lap. Zelda hadn’t noticed Impa turn to face her, sitting cross-legged in the center of Zelda’s bed with the slate now pushed off behind Impa’s back where neither of them could see it. They could still hear it in the silent stares they were giving each other, beeping irregularly like a dying heart.

“When Akkala falls the Domain will be next.”

“We have to prepare to evacuate.”

“You senile fool! We have lived in this Domain for over ten thousand years, we are not going to turn tail like cowards!”

“You would have us die fighting an unwinnable war! The rivers will run red with innocent zora blood if you are to get your wish.”

“There’s time to prepare! Ganon’s troops can’t possibly navigate the Domain with ease, we should have until tomorrow morn before they reach us.”

“So we must use that time to leave!”

Zelda twisted her hands together in her lap, keeping her head high as the zora elders bickered around her. She could feel her knight standing behind her chair, having silently refused to take the one offered to him next to the rest of the Champions. She was still wearing his clothes, her dress drying on a rack somewhere with the zora maids.

To her left sat Impa and the Champions, all of them silent and tense as their eyes followed the erratic flow of conversation. To her right were the New Champions, all of them in a similar state. Sidon was the only one who took the brief lapses in conversation to speak up–to relay information about what had happened during the Calamity in their time and how it could be avoided.

King Dorephan raised a hand, silencing the bickering that had turned to a full shouting match between the two eldest zora on the council. He shifted when silence fell across the large dining room, tilting his head down to properly address Impa. “How long until Ganon’s troops reach the Citadel?”

“Ten hours, maybe eleven.” Impa stood to attention. She kept her chin high as she spoke, remaining strong and resolute as the full attention of the council pulled her words apart. Not once did she fidget or squirm. “Ganon’s troops aren’t expected to breach until nightfall.”

No one spoke even as King Dorephan nodded and Impa sat back down. Not a single mutter slipped the lips of the gossip-hungry elders or the young knights standing guard—who normally loved to whisper amongst themselves. The silence let the gravity of the situation truly weigh everyone down. A breakfast of bread and fish sat in front of the occupied chairs, each and every plate completely untouched.

“There’s no time,” Urbosa cut through the hall with a hiss. She leaned forward, one elbow on the table with the other hand gripping the edge of the table. “If we leave now we’ll arrive just in time to bury the bodies.”

“Teba and I can fly ahead and buy you all enough time to make it.” Revali’s wings were crossed over his chest and he was relaxed back in his chair. To most people he would seem calm, casual. Though the constant tapping of his talons on the stone floor betrayed his anxiety.

“Thinking like that will only get us killed,” Teba grumbled back. He glared at Revali, before his features softened with a sigh. “It’s a noble thought, but there are only two of us. We won’t be able to do much more than make more work for the others when they burn all the corpses.”

“...Well you two are certainly optimistic,” Daruk muttered, raising a hand to scratch his head. “Isn’t there something we could do to help the Citadel? Buy them some time?”

“Buy them time to do what, exactly?” Urbosa placed her chin in her hand, crossing her legs as she did. “They will refuse to evacuate. Even if we were able to convince them, Ganon’s troops would catch up eventually.”

“There’s nothing to be done!” One of the squabbling elders from before cried. She shook her eel-like head. “Which is why we must focus on the survival of the Domain and the neighboring civilians.”

King Dorephan sighed deeply, silencing the quiet whispers that had begun to spread around the hall. “Perhaps Amala is right—” the green eel zora straightened up at the mention of her name— “It may be wise for us to use this time to focus our forces to where Ganon will strike next. Not only is the Domain at stake, but I fear he may strike the neighboring hylian towns as well.”

“You think it’s wise to let Hyrule’s last line of defense fall?” Zelda resisted the urge to stand from her seat. She clenched her hands together, feeling the way they shook in both anger and fear. “The knights stationed at the citadel make up most of Hyrule’s military. If we lose them—”

“Princess,” the king cut her off, the usual kindness gone from his eyes. “I am well aware of this, and this is not a decision I would like to be suggesting. But I cannot see any other options. As bleak as it is, Ganon’s attack on the Citadel may be our only saving grace, and it would be foolish for us to ignore it.”

He was right, and Zelda didn’t want to admit it. To admit he was right would be to give up on the thousands of knights ready to risk their lives to defend Hyrule. To admit it would be to give up on the idea of winning at all. And while both her heart and mind were drowning in doubt and fear that they would lose to Ganon, she would never say as much.

She couldn’t pull her gaze from where it had fallen. She stared at her hands, tangling them in the hem of her borrowed shirt. Conversation resumed in a roar around her, zora elders speaking their concerns, hylian knights stepping from their post to plead for more consideration. Many of them had friends, lovers, family, or even mentors stationed at the citadel.

It would take them a day alone just to reach the edge of Zora’s Domain on foot. Another eight hours to reach Akkala after. There was nothing to be done. The king was right and she was being a stubborn brat who refused to listen to a simple “no.” Her father had hated that about her, her stubbornness. She was starting to agree with him.

The conversation around her got louder, but she couldn’t distinguish any single voice, couldn’t hear any of the words being spoken. Everyone was speaking over each other, and Zelda had given up on trying to follow the conversation altogether. She sighed, running a shaking hand through her hair and slumping back in her seat in a very un-princess-like manner.

“Ruta can make the journey in four hours time.”

Everything came to a screeching stop.

Mipha stood from her chair with a determination in her eyes that Zelda had seen only a few times before. When all attention was on her, and her alone, she turned to address Zelda, staring into Zelda’s widening eyes. “Ruta can move faster than even the swiftest zora in water, fast enough to make the trip from the Domain reservoir to the Citadel in four hours.”

Zelda couldn’t move, her mouth slack-jawed and eyes wide. Mipha’s eyes shone as she flashed Zelda a small smile. “There’s still hope yet, Princess.”

“B-but Princess Mipha!” Muzu stammered, pushing himself to stand, his chair screeching back and nearly toppling over. “The reservoir is only connected to the Rutala River and the Lanayru Sea. There’s no way to reach the Citadel as quickly as you claim!”

“If Ruta dives deep enough she can bypass the cliffs surrounding the Domain to enter the Sea. From there we can intercept Ganon’s forces on the opposite side of the Citadel.”

“The opening to the sea is too small,” a salmon-like zora cried. One of his silver scaled hands gripped the edge of the table as he leaned forward, eyes wide with fear and confusion both. “Those caverns are too narrow for such a bulky thing to squeeze through without bringing the whole Nayru damned cliffs down on top of you! And the dam—”

“—Can be opened,” King Dorephan cut the zora off. He peered down at him from the corner of his eye at the zora who dared to speak against him. “And the caverns are plenty wide. Or do you think so poorly of our princess’s ability to pilot that Divine Beast that you think she couldn’t manage such a challenge?”

“N-no your majesty,” the zora choked out in response, sinking back into his seat.

The zora all stared between Mipha and the King. The discomfort and opposition was tangible, each zora in attendance looking moments away from voicing their disagreement. Only Muzu actually did, his chair still discarded far behind him. “Even if you could make it through the caverns, have you forgotten that the Champions and hylians cannot breathe underwater? They could not survive a journey as Ruta’s passengers.”

“Which is why Ruta would take a two hour journey to Inogo Bridge beforehand,” Mipha said with an icy cool in her voice. She stared across the table at Muzu directly, not even sparing any of the elders beside him a glance. “From there, our allies would disembark on the eight hour trek to Akkala Citadel on foot.”

“If they leave now, Princess Zelda and the Champions could all arrive at Akkala Citadel by nightfall,” King Dorephan’s voice lacked the calmness that Mipha’s had. It shook a little, and he was pointedly not looking towards his daughter. “Though there are many risks to sending all of Hyrule’s Champions into an assault of that scale. If they were to lose their lives at the Citadel, the rest of Hyrule would be doomed to suffer that same fate.”

“If the Citadel falls, so too does the rest of Hyrule.” The King jerked back as if he had been burned by Sidon’s blunt words. The grown prince didn’t stop at his father’s shocked expression, however, continuing forward with a grim look that didn’t look at place on his face. “I saw the destruction of Hyrule first-hand, and the peak of the war ended with the collapse of the Citadel. Once Akkala was lost to us, Hyrule fell the following day.”

Again, the silence grew heavier. All eyes were on the King, who’s composure had shattered by the smallest fraction. He frowned, staring down at Zelda for a moment before bowing his head and whispering something under his breath. When he sat back up, his expression was steeled. “Ultimately this is not a decision for me to make. This is entirely in the hands of Princess Zelda, and her alone.”

To charge into a sure death or to sit in a temporary safety.

Zelda bit her tongue, not hard enough to draw blood but enough for her to ignore the eyes trained on her. She wasn’t used to this . . . this responsibility. She’d made decisions back at the castle, sure. But those were decisions like what type of fabric to use for the winter ball table cloths, or what gifts would be sent to the priests and priestesses on the Plateau. Never before were lives put in her hands. Goddesses, she was still but a child wasn’t she? Why was blood being spread across her palms against her will?

If they didn’t go, if they stayed in the Domain and helped the Zora prepare to either evacuate or defend themselves . . . then what? They would be delaying the inevitable, and they would all perish at Ganon’s hand eventually. They would leave the rest of Hyrule to burn and rot, and if they did survive not enough would remain to pick up the pieces. If they did go, there was every chance they would fail.

...But they would at least try.

She swallowed, gripping her hands on her shirt’s hem to hide the shaking that had only grown worse. “Mipha, Sidon, prepare Vah Ruta to leave for Inogo Bridge immediately.”

The silence of the Domain shattered.

Chapter 2: Marching Towards Death

Chapter Text

Roughly two and a half hours passed between Zelda gathering her things in a panic and her feet landing on the soggy grass beside Inogo Bridge. The uncomfortable dig of her sandal straps into her ankles only served to remind Zelda of the much more comfortable clothes stuffed into her slate. She had meant to return them to her knight, but in the rush of everything she was never given a chance to.

She stifled a groan as she readjusted her dress from where it had bunched up on her waist. Finding reasons to hate her prayer dress was easy. Though, out of everything, she mostly just missed pants. What a pain it was to run around in a long dress, especially in the cold.

“Promise me that you will be safe on your journey?” Mipha’s voice drew Zelda up to the towering form of Vah Ruta.

She watched as her knight was the last one to jump down from the platform, the little guardian happily running circles around him when he landed. Both Mipha and Sidon leaned over the edge of the platform he had just come from, staring down at everyone.

Urbosa stood behind Zelda, her arm resting against the top of Zelda’s head while she waved at the zora as Vah Ruta began to rise. “Worry about yourselves first! I expect to see Ruta in all her glory when we arrive.”

“You can count on us!” Sidon shouted down with a laugh, the wide grin on his face slowly beginning to grow fuzzier as Vah Ruta rose to her full height.

The air shook with a deep mechanical bellow. Water from the river sloshed onto land as the divine beast began to move. Several of the knight’s beside Zelda grumbled, shaking the water off their boots in a fruitless endeavor. Another roar echoed through the pass before the Divine Beast charged off with a speed unexpected for something so large. Watching it bound over the cliffs effortlessly was impressive, nearly as impressive as the quakes each step created.

Once Vah Ruta was out of view Urbosa’s weight lifted from Zelda’s head. Urbosa patted her shoulder once before nodding her head towards the path. “Let’s not keep Robbie waiting, hm?”

“Yeah.” Zelda met Urbosa’s smile with her own.

She fell into step behind Urbosa quickly, her knight and little guardian following suit. The handful of soldiers scrambled to follow, too busy marveling at the scenery to notice they were being left behind.

As the minutes and hours ticked by the monsters they encountered remained few and far between. None had even gotten close enough to the group for Zelda to see, not with the Champions and her soldiers all running off before she even knew what was going on half the time. Zelda watched with a resigned sigh as Urbosa ran off for the third time since their depature. She was off to fend off a few stray lizalfos the soldiers had reported, dragging a very startled Yunobo along with her.

Zelda turned her eyes to the sky when the screeches of the lizalfos echoed through the cliffside. She could feel the looming of a storm in the air. The subtle taste of moisture brushed against her tongue with each breath she took, a cool dampness stinging her face with each light breeze. She had always loved rain as a child, much like the snow. It reminded her of her mother.

One memory stood out in Zelda’s mind as she brushed a hand against the moss growing on the cliff wall beside her. It was a favorite memory of hers. Not for any particular reason, it simply made her happy to think back on it. She couldn’t remember the exact day, just that it was during one of the months of Din, where rainfall was scarce.

It had rained hard all throughout the night, And when Zelda had woken the next morning her mother had excitedly taken her to the castle courtyard before she even had a chance to change from her pajamas. The two of them had spent hours searching for frogs, though Zelda couldn’t remember if they had ended up actually catching any. She could remember both of them being covered in mud and their pajamas stained with grass. The maids nearly had a heart attack seeing the queen in such a state.

Even with her fondness for the rain, the air’s promise of a storm did little to quell the pit that had sat in Zelda’s heart since . . . well, since her mother had passed. Her fear of failing, of losing everything she tried so hard to keep safe, Zelda could barely remember a time without it. That pit had only grown over the course of the last two days, with her deepest fears all slotting neatly into place around her like pieces in some divine puzzle. The only thing that had diminished those fears in any meaningful way had been the arrival of the New Champions.

She felt bad for taking comfort in their words. In relaxing at their stories of a future where the Calamity won, where the Champions all perished within their Divine Beasts and only a last minute sacrifice from the princess had saved their Hyrule from being completely torn to shreds. The comfort Zelda found didn’t come from the horrors of the future, but the fact that the path she found herself on was different from the one the New Champions spoke of. The Champions . . . her Champions, were still alive. They hadn’t perished in the Divine Beasts like they had in the New Champion’s stories.

That difference—no matter how small or insignificant it could turn out to be—soothed Zelda’s anxieties just enough for her to not feel like she was suffocating under them.

When the first drop of water hit her skin she sighed. She dragged her eyes from the sky, nearly jumping back at seeing Impa walking close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. Impa smiled, tapping the backs of their hands together lightly. “Welcome back. Get lost in that big brain of yours again?”

“It’s easy to get lost in there,” Zelda hummed. “Too many thoughts clogging up the roads.”

“You should draw yourself a map.”

“I think that’s called a diary, Imps.”

Impa laughed, wrapping an arm around Zelda’s shoulders and causing her to stumble a step. She pulled Zelda a bit closer, tilting her head closer to Zelda’s ear. “Really, how are you feeling? You look terrible, the soldiers are starting to talk.” She whispered, her serious tone not matching the smile still on her face.

Zelda mirrored Impa’s expression, donning a smile before whispering back. “Tired, mostly.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Just . . . keep talking to me?”

“I can do that.”

“Maybe with some distance? You’re drawing a lot of attention.”

“Not any more than you did this morning wearing your knight’s clothes.”

“Impa.”

“Right, right.” Impa lifted her arm from Zelda, inching away so they were no longer pressed against each other. “Sorry.”

The rain picked up a little, the patter growing steady in the silence dragging between the new distance between them. Zelda brushed some stray strands of hair behind her ear. “He let me borrow them for the night so I didn’t have to sleep in a dirty dress. That’s all.”

“I wasn’t suggesting it was anything at all.” Impa’s smile had fallen, her face not exactly serious but not exactly relaxed either. “Though the zora elders like to gossip.”

“Then let them,” Zelda scoffed. “We have more serious issues than what I wear.”

Impa hummed a response, neither agreeing or disagreeing with Zelda. “Like the issue of you not getting any sleep?”

“Oh?” Zelda raised an eyebrow, looking at Impa from the corner of her eye. “So I take it you slept as peacefully as a babe last night?”

“...No, not particularly.” Impa grabbed Zelda’s arm, directing her back towards the stone path she had absently begun to wander off. “But I guarantee I slept better than you.”

“You’re probably right,” Zelda bit out a laugh. “That’s not a very great accomplishment though, I think everyone did.”

A comfortable silence blanketed them like the mist that covered the bottom of Death Mountain. The storm wouldn’t reach the volcano, the air being too hot for any rain to even fall. It still didn’t stop flashes of lightning arching dangerously close to Death Mountain. They jumped from the storm festering over Akkala, reaching like clawed hands towards the neighboring regions. The booms of thunder were muffled, only lightly echoing through the valley below them. Zelda felt the thunder more than she heard it.

“Maybe we can steal some of the barrack rooms at the Citadel once we’re done,” Impa said suddenly. “I’ve heard the beds are very comfortable.”

“Where’d you hear that from?”

Impa shrugged, discreetly nodding her head back. Glancing back, Zelda bit back a small frown at the soldiers surrounding her knight. They were making small-talk, though it seemed her knight was ignoring them for the most part. Which was . . . odd. He was typically very friendly with his fellow knights.

“Your soldiers are quite loud when they complain.” Impa shook her head, tsking. “I couldn’t get them to shut up about how uncomfortable the beds at Zora’s Domain were. It was “it felt like sleeping on stone” this, and “the Citadel beds are soooo much nicer” that. Honestly, it’s like they had no respect for King Dorephan’s hospitality.”

“...The beds were very uncomfortable,” Zelda admitted.

“By the goddesses they were.”

Zelda found she couldn’t keep herself from glancing back at her knight and the soldiers. The little guardian usually alternated between following either her step or her knight’s, yet the guardian hadn’t so much as whistled in her direction since they had set off. It was practically attached to her knight’s leg, and she watched him nearly step on it multiple times.

She wasn’t jealous—maybe just a little—but she was confused. That was why she kept staring at him for extended periods of time. Not because he had an emotion on his face that she had never seen, but she knew it wasn’t a happy one. Not because of the distant look in his eyes, like he wasn’t truly there . Not because the bags under his eyes matched her own. Not because the clothes in her slate weighed as much as a full-sized guardian sitting on her chest.

Taking a deep breath, Zelda snapped her head forward. They had more serious issues.

Zelda sat against a large boulder on the side of the brick road. They were so close to the Citadel. So close that she swore she could hear the sounds of shouts and guardians underneath the thunderous storm that had only grown harsher and louder through the hours. It was infuriating, knowing that they were within arms reach of their goal and yet here they were, taking a break.

Granted, it was a much needed one. Zelda’s legs felt like putty beneath her, and judging by the sluggish movements of some of the others, they were feeling the same. They’d been walking non-stop for the past seven hours, and the closer they got to the Citadel the more monsters they encountered. She knew the importance of preparing, of not rushing in. But not when so many lives were at stake, when the fate of Hyrule rested on her— No, everyone’s shoulders.

The only ones not resting were Revali and Impa, who had both taken off to the skies—with Impa hitching a ride on Revali’s back, much to the rito’s annoyance—to survey ahead. They had left some ten minutes ago, and the moment they returned the knight’s were all prepared to pack up camp and resume the trek.

The rain tapped against the temporary tent propped up above her. The rain was heavy and cold, and several times Zelda had wondered if it had turned to hail. Unfortunately, the storm was only guaranteed to grow stronger once they arrived at the Citadel, where the pouring rain was visible even from where Zelda sat. The spare cloth that Urbosa had given Zelda to dry off with was draped across Zelda’s lap. It wasn’t the thick down feather quilt she wanted, but it helped to stave off the goosebumps.

The little guardian was curled up beside her, momentarily powered off. It was emanating a gentle hum, as if it were snoring. She set a hand on it with a smile. It was warm under her touch. While one of her shadows was relaxing under the tent with her, her other shadow stubbornly stood outside.

Her knight was at a slight angle to her, where most of his back was towards her but she could still see parts of his face. Not that his expression changed; his eyes were focused on a point beyond what she could see. She huffed, dragging her wandering eyes away from him. She supposed it wasn’t too out of his recent character.

It was like a switch had been flicked, and to make up for the moment of empathy and caring from the night before he had reverted to a stone wall of a knight. He didn’t speak unless it was forced out, and he certainly hadn’t smiled at anyone. It was worse than what his worst had been with her.

The sound of someone clearing their throat had Zelda looking up. Yunobo shuffled awkwardly in front of her, a flask of something gripped tightly in both his hands. “I’m sorry for bothering you Ze— Princess.”

“Oh, you’re no bother at all, Yunobo.” Zelda smiled. “Was there something you needed me for?”

“Ah, no.” He relaxed his death grip on the flask, holding it out to her suddenly. “I was wondering if you uh— Would you . . . like some water?”

“Oh—” Zelda blinked, before nodding— “sure. Thank you.”

“...Of course.”

Zelda took the flask from him. It was cold, freezing even. Droplets of rain water dripped down the metal casing, much in the same way rain poured off of Yunobo’s head and shoulders. She frowned a little at the shivers Yunobo was trying his best to hide; the subtle chatter of his teeth. She patted a spot beside her, under the shelter of the rushed tent. “Would you like to join me under here?”

Yunobo’s eyes widened before he looked over to where her knight stood guard. Her knight’s hair was soaked, his bangs plastered against his forehead and even covering his eyes a little. Her knight met Yunobo’s gaze and the goron jerked his attention away immediately.

“I— What about Link?” He hesitantly asked.

Zelda raised her eyebrows in confusion, an expression she watched her knight mirror out of the corner of her eye. “What about him?”

“Isn’t he . . . wet?”

“He is standing in the rain. It’d be very strange if he wasn’t.”

Yunobo stammered for a moment. “Could he— I mean it’s raining and he— I don’t want to intrude on— He should—”

“The Princess already offered that I rest,” her knight cut off Yunobo’s quick rambling.

Yunobo stared at her knight openly, confusion clear on his face. He glanced her knight up and down, before growing sheepish. He rubbed the back of his head. “And did you . . . want to?”

“No.”

She had actually offered many times for him to sit down with her. There had been a small window of time where she had contemplated ordering him to sit down under the tent with her. He was so dedicated to following orders, she knew he would obey her word. But it felt . . . scummy to use her command against him, even if it was for his benefit in the end. If she didn’t want him to have a reason to hate her, the worst thing she could do would be to order him to do something he didn’t want.

“Ah, o-okay.” Yunobo shifted awkwardly as her knight turned back to staring off into nowhere. Eventually Yunobo met her eyes again, a timid smile on his face. “Are you sure I can join you?”

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t,” she laughed lightly. Though she shot a pointed look at her knight; she meant that for all her offers. She was only half surprised to see he met her eyes for a moment, but he looked away without acknowledging the small exchange and Zelda let it drop.

Yunobo sat in the space beside her, careful to duck his head enough so he wasn’t brushing against the top of the tent. His hands were folded in his lap, and he seemed to be doing everything in his power to not stare at her. She resisted the urge to laugh at the goron’s bashfulness. Mipha had been the same way when they had first met when Zelda was still but a small child. Despite being the much older one, Mipha had let Zelda push her around a lot.

Not that Zelda had any intention to push Yunobo around. Though she did want to bring him out of his shell, if only a little.

On a whim she grabbed her slate from where she had set it, holding it out toward Yunobo. “Have you ever used a sheikah slate before?”

“Yeah I— I have.” He gingerly took it. The slate was tiny in his large hands, but he handled it so carefully that Zelda had no fear of him breaking it. “I uh, help Purah at her lab . . . sometimes. She and Symin have me do all the heavy lifting.”

“Purah?” Anything Zelda had wanted to talk about with Yunobo flew out the window in an instant. She leaned a little closer to the goron. “You know Purah?”

“We all do, Princess,” Teba called from across the camp. He was set under a tent much larger than Zelda’s, but it had many more people crammed underneath it. Riju was pressed against Teba’s side, while the soldiers took up all the remaining space.

“She’s still alive and kicking, huh?” Daruk laughed. He and Urbosa were sitting together in the remaining tent, their tent being about the same size as Zelda’s.

“She’s not as old as you’re imagining,” Riju said before Teba could so much as open his beak to answer. “An experiment blew-up in her face, aged her backwards about a hundred and ten years.”

That . . . sounded like something that would happen to Purah alright. Zelda tried to imagine what a young Purah would look like, and everything her mind came up with made her suppress a small laugh.

“What of Robbie?” Zelda asked after a moment, glancing between the three New Champions. “Is he still alive?”

“He is, though none of us know how.” Despite the huff in Teba’s voice, it was easy to hear the fondness laced in it as well. “He’s a cranky old raisin.”

Urbosa laughed sharply, rolling her eyes a bit. “You’re not a spring-cucco yourself.”

“You hear that, Feathers?” Riju snorted, elbowing Teba. “Even they know that you’re an old man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Teba gently pushed her aside. “I have kids and suddenly I’m six feet under already.”

“Parent’s are old,” Riju said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I’ll have to tell Bularia you said that, Minish.”

“A voe threatening the chieftain?” The bright smile on Riju’s face directly clashed her serious tone. “I could have you thrown in the dungeons for that. Besides, Bularia is my sorta mom, so she doesn’t count.”

“Isn’t Teba your sorta dad?” Yunobo chimed in, his voice quieting down when all the attention turned towards him.

“Well, yeah. But he has actual kids, so he still counts.”

“You have kids?” Zelda asked. She tried to imagine Teba with a little hatchling huddled against him, but she was having difficulty for some reason. “You never mentioned them before.”

He shrugged, brushing it aside as if it were nothing. “Never came up. Yeah, I got a few kids. Six if we’re counting these–” he gestured at the New Champions. “Little bastards, the lot of ‘em.”

“Were the others all one clutch?” Urbosa leaned forward, resting her head in her hand. She was fairly relaxed, given the circ*mstances. “Three’s pretty uncommon for a single batch.”

“Friend of mine had five in a clutch, actually. He’s lucky they all turned out only mildly annoying.”

“Five?” Urbosa whistled. “I couldn’t imagine.”

“’Sides, only one of my kids is actually “mine.” My youngest son, he turned seven a few moons back and takes to archery like a pro.” Teba waved his wing dismissively. “Other two are strays I picked up, hylians. The three idiots followed shortly after.”

“Strays?” Daruk questioned. “You find them in the woods?”

“Nah they came to me,” Teba said gruffly, a soft smile in his eyes. His gaze lingered on Zelda’s tent before he continued, “Well, one of them did. He was a stubborn and committed little thing, I took a liking to him after we first met. He brought the other one along later. She’s just as stubborn as him.”

“Doesn’t sound like a very formal adoption,” Urbosa said with a small laugh in her voice.“You sure they aren’t a couple of wild animals you keep feeding?”

“It's a bit hard to have formal anything with no kingdom to officiate things.” It was Riju who answered. “We don’t really do adoption anymore. If you find someone who you like and who likes you back, people tend to consider that family.”

“Your families must be pretty big then,” Daruk laughed. “Gatherings must be fun!”

“They are.” There was a wide smile on Yunobo’s face when he spoke.

“You had mentioned earlier that the people of your Hyrule had started to rebuild.” Zelda changed the topic quickly, before they could dive deep enough into family talk. She . . . wasn’t quite ready for that. “Are you going to try to reestablish a kingdom?”

“As of now there’s no plan to.” Riju answered. She had repositioned to sit cross-legged, her knee very pointedly pushing against Teba’s side. “Hyrule isn’t quite big enough to warrant a central kingdom anymore. Besides, we're all functioning fine without it.”

“How’s Gerudo Town holding up?” Urbosa asked.

“Great!” Riju enthusiastically answered. Her eyes shone when she smiled, clearly proud of her home. “We just recently expanded our export to some of the newer towns that have begun construction in Central Hyrule. In the upcoming months we should have a more secure and permanent trade route from Gerudo across Hyrule.”

“The gerudo are also helping in building a new town where the old colosseum was. It connects right to the new trade routes, and should help make things safer,” Teba added.

The colosseum . . . destroyed. Zelda supposed that made sense, it was only natural that a lot of things would be lost in the Calamity. Still, she frowned and pursed her lips.

She knew it wasn’t her personal fault, it was on the shoulders of a different Zelda, one who didn’t have the same help that she currently had. Still, knowing that the New Champions knew her as the Princess who couldn’t stop the Calamity, who let the colosseum and all of Hyrule fall... She wasn’t sure if that thought was motivating her to prove them wrong, or solidifying her fears that she was doomed to fail, that it was written into her very being. Perhaps a mixture of both.

Zelda let herself tune out the talk of trade routes and let her mind wander. Let it wander away from what has happened and away from what may come, focusing on the pain of the now. Her feet hurt, the leather straps of her prayer sandals digging into her ankles and the wooden soles leaving the bottoms of her feet raw. A headache spread from the front of her head, screaming at her to sleep even though she couldn’t even if she tried. Her knees still hurt from when she had fallen the day before, scraping them both open on the blood slick floors of the castle. She could remember how much the potion had stung when Impa poured it on, how her lip was still throbbing from where she had bit through it in pain.

She wasn’t cut out for battle no matter how much she tried. She felt useless and incapacitated over injuries most knights shrugged off. She couldn’t handle the sting of medicine without feeling like shouting, couldn’t brush off the bite of a blade on her skin. Impa assured her that it wasn’t because she was weak, that the warriors around her had built up an endurance to pain from years of broken bones and scars. That she hoped Zelda never got used to pain, because that would mean Impa had failed to protect her.

Zelda was starting to wish she had trained for fighting and for pain when she was younger, instead of spending her hours praying. It certainly hadn’t helped. It’d done nothing but leave her with the sour taste of the Goddess’s name on her tongue and left her helpless when Ganon finally rose.

She sighed, looking down at her lap. She was surprised to see her slate sitting there, not sure when Yunobo had handed it back. When she looked over at the goron his attention was away from her and he was laughing at something Daruk had said. Even though he wasn’t paying attention she muttered a quiet “thanks” under her breath.

Turning on the slate she began to swipe through the various screens, just to see if anything had changed since that morning. The towers still remained inactive, aside from the ones in Faron and Hebra. Ganon hadn’t yet severed their control of those towers, but Zelda knew it was only a matter of time before they were infected and teleportation was cut off from them for good. The map was still a garbled mess of static, the weather sensor as well. She supposed it made sense, given that the towers were necessary for most of the slate's functions.

...And yet they could still send and receive messages? Zelda frowned, staring down at the static. If the towers were functional enough for the slates to be able to do anything at all, perhaps they weren’t completely taken over by Ganon. Perhaps there was a chance they could restore them to working condition. Once they could figure out how to purge Ganon’s malice. Once Zelda unlocked her powers.

“Akkala’s been breached,” Revali’s voice cut both Zelda’s thoughts and the Champions’ conversation off immediately. The rito landed with a thud in the center of the small camp, a stark contrast to his usual grace. Impa hopped off his back, wringing her hair out in her hands. Revali continued breathlessly, “We can see the guardians breaking through the main gate already.”

“We can reach the citadel in time if we hurry,” Impa added. “The gate looks like it’s holding for now, that should buy us some time.”

In a blink everyone was rushing to stand and Zelda found her mind miles away from her body. The knights were silent in their rush, tearing down the tents and handing them off to Impa to store away in her slate. Zelda didn’t realize when she had grabbed onto Link’s hand, letting him pull her to her feet. He asked her a question of some sort, and she nodded out of habit. Her feet were moving under her without her realizing it, stumbling slightly as her distance to the rest of the group grew.

Her knight wasn’t rushing her. He was barely even pulling her along, she realized. He didn’t argue when she eventually pulled her hand from his grip, didn’t argue when she stopped for a second to just breathe .

It was okay. They were going to make it. They were going to help.

...Then why did she feel like death itself?

“Princess.” Her knight’s voice made her jolt a little.

“Sorry,” she exhaled shakily, clenching her hands into fists at her sides. “Just . . . give me a second.”

“Perhaps you should stay behind.”

“... What ?” She stared at him, his words cutting into her.

“One of the Champions or I can stay behind with you if you would prefer.” He said it so . . . earnestly. He was seriously entertaining the idea that she should stay behind like some— Some coward .

“No,” she bit back, her voice a harsh hiss between her clenched teeth. His eyes widened a bit, and she couldn’t help but feel a little bad at snapping. He was supposed to keep her safe, that’s what he was trying to do. She sighed, calming that small spike of irritation in her chest. “I’m going. I have to help in whatever way I can, even if it’s just being there.”

They stared each other down, and Zelda prepared to defend herself. To her surprise, her knight only nodded. There was no argument, no locking her away from the fight. Zelda . . . didn’t know what to think.

“What’s the holdup?” Impa ran up to them, glaring between them—most likely trying to figure out their short-lived standoff.

“I’m coming with you,” Zelda said. She relaxed her shoulders, pushing her chin up just a little bit more before meeting Impa’s eyes in a challenge. “Even if the only thing I can do is give people false hope.”

Impa was silent for a little bit, still glancing between Zelda and her knight. Eventually she smiled, reaching forward and ruffling Zelda’s hair—an action made very difficult by the rain. “I hope you realize how brave you are. I’m so proud of you.”

“I certainly don’t feel brave.”

“Bravery isn’t about feeling strong, it’s about doing the right thing, even when you’re scared.”

"...I suppose that makes all of us brave, then."

"It does."

The path was a blur under her feet as she ran towards the Citadel. The clinking of the soldiers’ armor echoed in her ears as they followed behind her. The heavy footfall of the Champions ahead of her matched her heart pounding in her chest.

When the first sounds of guardian beams shook the valley and pillars of smoke entered their line of sight they were about ten minutes from the citadel. Their speed quickened even more, and when the cliffs receded and the citadel was in sight, Zelda nearly froze. Guardians covered the walls like spiders; waves of bokoblins and lizalfos swarmed the base of the citadel like hungry dogs awaiting a meal. Rain poured down on them in a torrent, and yet it did nothing to put out the fires that burned the small forts at the citadel’s base.

Zelda prayed for the first time that day.

Chapter 3: Messengers of the Goddess . . . or Something

Chapter Text

To say that Kohga’s day wasn’t going as planned would be just a bit of an understatement.

First and foremost those pesky Champions weren’t dead. Which was funny— it wasn’t —because the creepy fortune teller had sworn to Ganon and back that the power of the dark lord would deliver them to a death most painful. Secondly—and most urgently—that same fortune teller had turned against them.

Kohga couldn’t even begin to count how many of his soldiers’ bodies were sprawled limp on the ground. They had all been tossed away like banana peels once their souls had been ripped from their chests.

“Despite our best efforts, the enemy has only grown stronger.” The fortune teller was still babbling on and on. His glowing orb spun around his hand in a lazy bob, like he was bored of killing all of Kohga’s soldiers. “To succeed . . . we must adjust our strategy.”

Sooga widened his stance, using more of his body to shield Kohga. It was a sweet sentiment, but not when Sooga was struggling to stand already. Kohga wasn't quite sure what to do. In Sooga’s state there was no way they would both be able to “poof” themselves out of there.

The blights behind Astor twitched and convulsed as they were ripped to pieces. The fragments of the blights swarmed around the corrupted core in his hand, bleeding a bright red as they conjoined into the swirl of magic surrounding it.

“Finally, the two of you can actually be of some use—” he clenched his hand into a fist, malice shooting from the orb and landing on the grass with a sickening plop— “for once in your lives!”

Kohga grit his teeth as the malice bubbled and writhed, growing and forming into something vaguely hylian shaped. It heaved, staggering up on two leg-like limbs as its body pulsed and wheezed like it was dying the moment it came to life. Kohga didn’t understand how the malice worked, he didn’t want to understand how the malice worked. It was like living sludge, and Astor had too much fun playing around with it.

Case in point, the very Hylian Champion-esq malice slumped over in front of Astor. Its glowing eyes stared blankly at Kohga and Sooga, peering through their bodies and staring straight into the souls it wished to devour. A thread of malice slithered from its vaguely hand-shaped mass, forming into a poor recreation of the sword that seals the darkness. Astor got a lot of the details down, but the sword didn’t look anything like the original. Kohga would know, he’d nearly been killed by it.

“Master Kohga,” Sooga hissed through his teeth. His grip on his sword tightened as the malice champion remained frozen, staring at them. “Make your escape, quickly!”

And Kohga nearly did. Nodding his head once he turned away to run. He had only taken a few steps when he paused, his morals trying to take over. There was something he hadn’t needed to worry about for a while, morals. They were fickle things, always telling him how much of a coward he was. As if he didn’t know already. He groaned when the pesky things won over his cowardice. He readied his demon carver and joined Sooga by his side. Kohga was not about to run away like a startled sand seal all by himself. Not when so many of his soldiers now laid dead at the feet of that traitor.

“I can’t just split. You’re my best lackey!” Nice and sentimental, nailed it.

“...In that case.” Sooga staggered upwards, twirling the blades with an unnecessary flourish that Kohga so often loved to do. “I will protect you, even if it costs me my life.”

Hold on, Kohga never agreed to that price. Couldn’t they bargain? Bring the cost down a bit so neither of them would have to die? Was that possible?

“A blood sacrifice to the Calamity,” Astor said, a wispy trace of laughter in his voice. “Fate gives you this role...”

The tainted core shuddered as it rose from his palm and the hollow followed suit. It jerked upwards on invisible strings, its neck snapping into place and its limbs straightening out into a poor excuse of a battle stance. A shiver ran down Kohga’s spine as the malice split apart around the face, reaching from ear to ear and sagging down. It was smiling, and Kohga wasn’t sure if it was Astor’s doing or Ganon’s. Both seemed the type to do something unnecessary just for the creep factor.

Astor raised the hand not holding the orb, pointing a single pale finger directly at the two yiga. “And you will play it.”

The hollow charged forward with a speed neither of them had expected. It swung its sword down between them, spitting the ground open as the yiga threw themselves back with little grace. Sooga stumbled on his feet, barely managing to parry the blade thrust at his head in a blur with the hilt of his blade.

Kohga sliced through the hollow’s arm as it raised its blade to strike at Sooga again. Its arm and sword fell to the ground with the wet thump and the hollow stumbled a few steps back. The mass of malice squirmed like a lizalfos’s detached tail, wiggling closer to the hollow until it hit its leg with a thwack. The moment it made contact it began to be pulled back into the hollow’s body.

The hollow convulsed and a new arm—complete with a sword—shot out from the stump Kohga had left it. Kohga had just enough time to curse under his breath before he was knocked backwards by a kick, the air leaving his lungs. He frantically “poofed” himself a few feet away, finding his footing and settling into a more solid stance.

“Do the two of you banana eating oafs really think you can stand against the Dark Lord’s wishes?” Astor tutted, a condescending lilt in his voice as if he were speaking to a couple of children.

The hollow had refocused its assault on Sooga, and Kohga couldn’t move in time to stop the blade cutting clean into Sooga’s right knee. Sooga made a muffled noise, swiping one of his blades in a large arc. The hollow ripped its malice from Sooga’s knee as it leaned back to avoid most of his blade—though the tip of Sooga’s blade carved a clean line through its chest.

The hollow turned just in time to see Sooga’s second blade aiming clean for its neck. It bent backwards—its lack of a spine more apparent than ever—before the blade could connect. It stared at Sooga with its glowing eyes and carved smile as he failed to adjust his momentum and his malice covered knee gave out under him.

In a fluid motion the hollow stood back up, bringing its sword in a sudden arc with it. Kohga barely managed to jump between the hollow and downed Sooga, hissing through his teeth as his demon carver pulled painfully against his grip as he blocked the hollow’s sword. The hollow was proving to be a real thorn in Kohga’s side, and he was growing more desperate and irritated as time went on.

There was no precision to the hollow’s actions, no form to it. It relied solely on the staggering power in its haphazard swings and its erratic movements. It fought like someone who had never fought a day in their life, but it had the strength of a seasoned fighter to back it up.

And Kohga loathed to admit it, but he and Sooga wouldn’t last much longer against it.

The hollow pushed his demon carver down harder with its blade and Kohga’s wrist gave out. He threw his other arm up to catch the hollow’s sword instead of his face. Hastily he thrusted his demon carver at its chest in the small opening, ignoring the screaming of his arm and wrist. He twisted his blade hard to the right and the hollow flung itself off him, ripping the blade from his arm.

It threw itself too far back, right into the maw of Sooga’s blades. The twin blades sliced simultaneously, cutting clean through the hollow’s neck and severing its head from its body. Once the head hit the ground the body crumpled beside it, melting into a formless puddle of pulsing malice.

“Was the Champion not to your liking?” Astor hummed, not bothering to hide the boredom in his voice. “Perhaps I can provide you with something more familiar.”

The traitor snapped his fingers and the malice boiled to life again. It shot up into a beginners stance, the hollow reformed into a mockery of a yiga. It rushed forward, swinging a crooked sickle down over Kohga’s head, and the sporadic dance began again.

Kohga’s blood absolutely boiled watching the not-yiga step over the cold bodies of the real yiga. It swung with none of a yiga’s grace, dashed around with footwork clunkier than a bokoblins. It followed all the same motions as the Champion’s hollow: wide swing, vertical swing, hard jab, fast movements. Its primary goal was to cause as much damage as possible with little regard to its own weapon or safety.

By Din was it succeeding, though.

Kohga shouted a curse as his demon carver fell from his grip. The hollow swiftly kicked it away a distance as it raised its blade on him again. Calling upon the forbidden technique taught to him by his father’s sister’s mother, Kohga swung his leg back and kicked the hollow between the legs as hard as he could. Despite not having the fatal weak spot that a real hyrulean would, the hollow fell back under the sheer force of the kick.

Grabbing onto the hilt of his demon carver, Kohga turned from the hollow and ran. He focused on reaching Sooga, who was struggling to stand. One of his blades was dug into the ground, supporting him like a crutch; the other was held out defensively in front of him. Their eyes met for a moment, before all of Kohga’s forward moment crashed back onto him as the hollow ran out in front of him. It rammed its knee into his chest and he fell back with a coughing gasp.

The hollow stood over him as he wheezed on his back. Its sickle was gripped in both hands, raised high above his heart.

The traitor cackled from his front row seat to the show. “Pathetic vermin! Why fight when your death will achieve more than you ever did in life?”

Now, Kohga was no quitter… But maybe he was right.

Kohga let his grip on his carver relax as he shut his eyes. The yiga had been loyal to Ganon for thousands of years. Ganon had been the only one to welcome the sheikah into open arms after Hyrule had cast them aside, the only one to truly appreciate their craftsmanship. Serving Ganon and his armies . . . that was what Kohga had devoted himself to, even well before he even earned the name Kohga.

Would he end his loyalty now? If Ganon needed him dead to succeed, wasn’t he obligated to conform to his wishes? Ugh, if Kohga had known that ahead of time he wouldn’t have spent his forty six years of life serving an overgrown pig.

He’d casted aside the gods long ago, but Kohga couldn’t help the small part of him that prayed they would forgive him at that moment and save him. Or . . . at the very least save Sooga. His right hand man didn’t deserve to suffer the same fate.

“I must thank you for your valiant sacrifices,” Astor sneered mockingly. Kohga tensed himself, preparing for the strike of malice through skin. “The gods will soon fall under the souls of those they damned! Ganon’s reign shall—”

Astor’s shouts were cut short by blinding light flashing into existence between them.

Everything stood still as a series of glowing runes etched themselves into the very air itself, crackling with a blue energy as they formed a uniform circle. The air screamed a high pitch scream as it tore apart like a flimsy paper talisman. A piercing hum blocked all other sounds from Kohga’s ears, worming into his head and making his brain feel like it was gripped on either side and shaken violently.

The light made him squint, but he found he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Not when the runes began to grow brighter, turning from a cool blue into a burning white befitting the Goddess herself. In the light of the Goddess two shadows fell through the tear in the air, landing with a hollow thud on the grass below.

The air sealed shut in a snap; the runes crackled a few times before fizzling out of existence altogether. The hum and scream vanished, and it was like nothing had happened at all. The only indication that Kohga hadn’t hallucinated everything in his dying moments were the two cloaked figures shakily pushing themselves onto their hands and knees and the smell of burning field emanating from the thick lines spattered around them.

The sounds of coughing and wheezing weakly carried across the hill. Everything still stood silent in shock, the hollow included. Its head was turned unnaturally far to stare at Astor, though his attention was fixated on the two new arrivals.

“...How peculiar,” the traitor laughed. He took a step toward the figures, and the standstill shattered instantly. The hollow snapped its head back to Kohga.

“Din’s fiery ass,” Kohga cursed, rolling to the left to avoid the sickle through the heart. He couldn’t let himself die now, not when the gods had decided to answer his prayers.

Grabbing onto the hollow’s leg he pulled down as hard as he could, sending it toppling to the ground and giving himself an opening to jump to his feet. He gripped his carver tightly in his hand and ran to Sooga’s side.

“You don’t look dead yet,” Kohga said as he skidded to a stop beside Sooga. Glancing the taller man up and down, the damage didn’t look pretty. A malice infected knee, stab wound through the side, and general exhaustion.

His right hand man huffed weakly through his nose. “Master, focus on the enemy.”

“So we’re enemies of Ganon now, huh?” Kohga turned on his heel, digging one of his feet into the grassy field. “Think the Princess would welcome us to her cause?”

Sooga wasn’t given a chance to answer. Kohga clenched his teeth as the hollow appeared before them once more, swinging its sickle down. Kohga’s arms were moments away from giving out as he blocked it, pushing back against the hollow and sending it back a step. The hilt of one of Sooga’s blades slammed into the hollow’s face, and it fell to the ground.

“Aren’t you two an oddity,” Astor exclaimed breathlessly. Kohga couldn’t take his eyes off the hollow long enough to look over to the traitor and the strangers. But he could hear a childish excitement enter Astor’s voice as he spoke again. “Well no matter, you’ll both make wonderful sacrifices to the Calamity. Perhaps he can pick you apart piece by piece, and whisper all your little secrets in my ear, children of the goddess.”

Kohga hit the ground as Sooga shoved him away from the hollow that had thrown itself towards him. Sooga let out a grunt of pain as the sickle dug into his shoulder. The hollow let go of the blade embedded in Sooga, forming a new one in its opposite hand.

This was never going to end.

“You are doing the Dark Lord a great serv—” Astor’s snark was cut off with a heart stopping wail. Kohga flinched at hearing Astor’s throat tear itself apart as he let out another screech of pure pain.

The only thing louder than his cries was the sudden crash of something shattering. It was quickly followed by an ear splitting screech from the hollow. It clawed at the grass, the ghastly noises only stopping when the hollow froze and liquified before Kohga’s very eyes. It spread across the ground in a thin puddle of malice, completely still.

So he poked it with the tip of his demon carver, cautiously of course. Kohga sighed in relief when it didn’t spring back to life. Pushing himself to stand, he reached an arm out to steady Sooga as his second in command dropped his blade and pressed his hand against the gash in his shoulder.

A wide grin spread out under Kohga’s mask when his eyes fixed on the collapsed form of Astor. His floating orb . . . thing sat in shattered pieces in the dirt, surrounded by a pool of bubbling malice. A single arrow was stuck out of the center of the wreckage, standing tall and proud like a trophy on display.

The traitor was heaving on the ground beside it, his hands grasping at a large slice through his leg. His screams had turned to spitting curses and insults, his face twisted into a foul sneer. The malice crawled towards him, climbing up his arm when he let one of his hands submerge into it. It formed a living sleeve, covering his shoulder to his palm once all the malice had migrated from the dirt to the traitor.

“You brats.” he hissed out through clenched teeth. He glared at the two goddess-sent strangers with a murderous rage in his eyes. Then the malice leapt, covering the rest of Astor in a blink. The next second he was gone. Only the broken guardian core and puddle of malice at Kohga’s feet remained behind.

“Coward.” Kohga dropped his demon carver, stretching his arms above his head with a hum. Dusting himself off and ignoring the burn of his arm he turned to Sooga. “We really showed him!”

Sooga didn’t respond besides a weak grunt. He slumped against the blade still embedded in the dirt, just managing to hold himself upright. Wrapping his good arm under Sooga, Kohga pulled some of his lackey’s weight onto himself. There was blood seeping through Sooga’s uniform and malice still sticking to his knee and shoulder. They would get infected if not treated, and the last thing Kohga wanted was for his lackey to die over something as stupid as an infection after everything they had been through.

With his life no longer on the line and his lackey semi-stable Kohga turned his attention to his saviors. They were hylian, or at least he assumed so. They both wore black hooded cloaks . . . or were they dark blue? Kohga couldn’t really tell, not with the haze of red and purple that had covered the sky since Ganon woke up in a fit.

One of them was dressed in blue while the other in green. The blue one was bent down, inspecting the shattered core. They pulled the arrow from the scrap, slotting it back into a quiver on their hip before standing. There was a strange looking bow strapped to the blue one’s back. It looked like it had been hobbled together out of the remains of a guardian, and Kohga wasn’t even sure how it would work without a string.

The green one was holding something in their hands, but with their back to Kohga he couldn’t tell what it was. He could see the strange guardian scrap rod strapped to their back, however. It was short, almost shaped like a sword hilt, and a complete eyesore. The two seemed to be talking to each other, the blue one animatedly talking with their hands and the green one nodding every few seconds.

Time to butt in. Sooga always did say that interrupting was his specialty.

“Hey! Gotta thank you for chasing that freak off,” Kohga called out. The two strangers froze, slowly turning to look at Kohga, as though noticing him for the first time. “Not that the incredulous and spectacular Master Kohga couldn’t handle it himself normally, of course. But I uh . . . I’m on a strict no fighting diet right now! So I’m not in prime traitor-killing condition.”

The figures didn’t respond. With their heads turned towards him Kohga was disappointed to find they were wearing masks that covered their faces. Not that he was one to judge, but if the Goddess herself was going to send him a couple of saviors he would’ve hoped to at least see what they looked like.

Sogoa shifted, and Kohga buckled under the new weight. His second in command was trying his hardest to cover up his groans of pain. He wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Kohga grimaced, a good night’s sleep wouldn’t be enough to fix up his lackey. They needed potions, and Kohga sure didn’t keep any on him.

Skin tight bodysuits don’t leave much room for pockets.

“Greenie, Bluey, you two got any potions on you?” Kohga turned his attention back to Sooga, who had leaned even more weight onto Kohga. “I’ll take 'em off your—” the words died on his tongue when something pressed against his neck.

He gulped and turned just enough to get a good look at the object in question. A glowing blade hummed against this throat, the guardian scrap hilt gripped tightly in the green one’s gloved hand. The blade was cold even through the fabric, feeling like an ice cube had been pressed against Kohga’s neck. Without moving his head he glanced to his right, biting his tongue to hold back a curse as seeing an arrow pointed right at Sooga’s head.

Okay. Okay. So their saviors weren’t friendly. He could handle that. Kohga was known for being irresistibly charming, after all. He would just win them over.

“Hey woah woah woah, we’re on your side!” He paused, before muttering mostly to himself, “Whatever side that is.”

Up close the mystery hylians were a bit younger than he had been anticipating. Granted, he could only really base his assumption off of their build and stance, but he was usually a pretty good judge of those sorts of things.

The green one was closest to him, burn scars peeking out from under the high collar of their under shirt. Under the mess of dirty blonde hair that reached just below their shoulders Kohga could see that they were missing half of their right ear. It was bitten off from the look of it. Their face was covered by a strange mask, big eyes of a bird that Kohga couldn’t identify staring at him blankly.

The blue one had a mask nearly identical to the green one’s, though it looked more owl-like in Kohga’s opinion. Not that he was a bird expert or anything. The blue one’s ears were scraped up as well, the left ear having a few small nicks taken out of it. In their hands was the same scrap bow that had been on their back, though it had gotten longer somehow, with a glowing blue string spanning across it.

When neither of them spoke he figured he would try to reason again. “The two of you sure are in luck today, oh yes! For you see, you did not save any random Master Kohga. You saved the life of the one and only Master Kohga, leader of the yiga Clan. The brave and powerful Top Banana of the yiga stands before you . . . now in your favor.”

“Our favor?” The blue one questioned. Their voice had a strange accent to it, one Kohga couldn’t place. It vaguely reminded him of a noble’s accent, and yet the pronunciation was off. Rito maybe? It had the same lilt as a rito accent. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

“You think I’m in a position to lie here, birdie?” Kohga laughed and got a blade pressing coldly against his neck as a response.

“And how can we be certain you aren’t trying to say the right thing just so we let you go?” They pressed harder. “You could run off the moment our backs are turned.”

If they could see Kohga’s expression, they would surely believe him and his bafflement in an instant. “Now, that is a plan you’ve got there. Quite the devious little thing. And I would have considered it, sure! But come on, Bluebird, in our state? Why, we’d bleed out before we could even make it over the hill!”

“Once you’re healed you could run,” the green one said dully, their voice quiet and even less defined than the blue one’s. Eastern hylian? Rough, certainly.

Time to put on his blinding yiga charm.

“Listen, us yiga are a proud clan. We claim our payments, and we pay our dues.”

Rule one in the yiga rulebook, remain loyal. Rule two in the yiga rulebook, debts must always be fulfilled.

“What about the rest of the yiga?” The blue one asked. “Do your dues extend to them?”

“Of course!” Kohga laughed out under his breath. “Anything I say goes, my yiga would follow my word anywhere.”

Oh, how he loved his yiga.

He licked his lips and took a chance to raise his hand not supporting his lackey in a placid gesture. When the green one’s blade remained still, he continued. “You saved the lives of the leader of the yiga and his second in command. In exchange the yiga clan is in your service for life. Lives saved, lives owed.”

“There’s a but,” the blue one realized after a short stretch of silence. They had lowered their bow just a hair while their hollow eyes stared straight through Kohga’s heart.

“Buuuuut,” Kohga dragged out. “If we ever encounter that creepy fortune teller again, I want him dead.”

“Why him?” The green one’s grip on the blade had loosened, and if Kohga had been planning on stabbing them in the back that would’ve been the perfect opening. He didn’t move, though.

“We don’t take kindly to traitors oh no no no. And that man . . . I won’t rest until his organs paint the ground in a red so vibrant a yiga could hide in it. He will pay for his many crimes.”

The two hylians turned their heads to each other, staring at each other wordlessly for what felt like an eternity. Then the sword left his throat and the arrow lowered from Sooga’s head. The hylians stepped back, their weapons folding in on themselves with the precision and speed only sheikah technology could replicate.

The blue one sighed and clipped the bow onto their back with an audible snap. “I suppose that we don’t have much time to think things over, and we can’t be too selective with our help. We’ll… Figure something out later.”

Thank Hylia above.

Kohga opened his mouth to respond, but he cut himself off in curiosity as the blue one pulled a damned sheikah slate from their hip and began to flick through the screens.

Now where did they manage to get their hands on one of those? Kohga thought only the princess and her precious champions got their hands on that sort of tech. Well, aside from the sheikah.

...Oh Din, did he accidently rejoin the yiga clan to the sheikah? How embarrassing.

He couldn’t ponder the mortifying implications of his hasty, life saving deal long before the blue one had an armful of potion bottles. They nodded towards Sooga–who barely looked able to hold himself upright even with Kohga’s help.

“We’re going to need to pour some potion on the malice infected areas. It doesn’t look too deep, but it will continue to fester and leech off of your vitality if we don’t kill it off.” They stepped forward, the dead-eyed bird tilting its wooden face to observe the full extent of Sooga’s injuries. “The rest of your wounds will need to wait until we can rest somewhere safe.”

“Shoulder needs stitches,” the green one spoke up out of nowhere, startling Kohga into nearly dropping Sooga right on the ground. They were standing far closer than before, and how Kohga hadn’t noticed their approach, he had no idea. “Right side too.”

The blue one nodded, “Stitches and rest, nothing we haven’t dealt with before. We just need to find…”

They trailed off and their head swiveled around a few times, as though finally noticing exactly where they were. Or, rather, where they weren’t.

Instead of pressing for information, however, the blue one shook their head slightly and pulled themself back towards the yiga. Leaning down, they set many of the bottles of potions beside Sooga’s feet to free their hands before placing them around the arm not limp around Kohga.

“L–” The hum of a word stuck on the blue one’s tongue for a moment. “Let’s lower him to the ground. Ghost?”

The green one–Ghost, apparently–gave a short nod and pried Kohga’s lackey off of him.

Three empty bottles sat at Kohga’s feet, a few drops of red potion remaining in each. He winced as he tugged the bandages tighter around his arm. Despite now being in the service of the two hylians, Kohga couldn’t help but keep them in his sight at all times. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them—he didn’t trust them—there was just something . . . odd about them. Something he hadn’t quite been able to place just yet.

But they had healed Sooga enough that the man was able to sit up somewhat straight, and he wasn’t bleeding out everywhere. So they couldn’t be bad. Just… Weird.

“So,” Kohga let the ‘o’ drag for a second, long enough to get both blank eyed masks to look at him. “What should we call you birdies?”

“You may call me Spirit,” the blue one spoke. They were much more talkative than their companion, who still sat by Sooga’s side and poked and prodded at his wounds.

“And that one’s Ghost, yeah?” Kohga asked, and at the small nod of confirmation he laughed. “Strange names. You know, if you aren’t careful someone might think they’re fake.”

“Are Kohga and Sooga your real names?” Spirit retorted quickly.

Up close Kohga couldn't help but admire their hair, even if it was a bit tangled and unkept. It was a beautiful blonde, reminding Kohga of the old painting of the Goddess that sat in every church of Hyrule. He'd only been to a church once—to steal from it—but the painting had engraved itself in his mind. Perhaps it had been the beautiful craftsmanship, speaking of a lifetime of work poured into creating Her image. Or perhaps it was because he had been upset that it was too big for him to steal. The paintings depicted a beautiful winged woman with a river of golden hair and featureless face looking down fondly on those entering the place of worship.

Although, unlike the goddess, Spirit's hair was short and a bit of a mess. It was choppy, like someone had attempted an a-cut with a dull dagger. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was actually the case. There were two chunks of hair near the front that were much longer than the rest of their hair, like they had forgotten to cut them with the rest of their hair.

It was a haircut by an amateur, a desecration of the holy.

The hint of a noble’s accent bled through even more. A rebellious nature? Had they run off from their estate to dance around in a strange mask with their silent companion?

In lieu of giving them an answer, Kohga chuckled and shook his head slowly. “So, what’s the plan then, Bluebird?”

They let out a small huff and tapped their nails against the edge of the sheikah slate that sat in their lap. Once Sooga had stabilized they had left the nurse-work to Ghost and buried themself in flicking through endless screens of what looked like static from Kohga’s position.

“Immediately?” They said, and it took them a while to continue, “The idea is to find some form of civilization, a post or a stable. We’ll make sure Sooga gets the attention he needs. But our map isn’t working and I haven’t the faintest clue where we are.”

“Southern Hyrule Field,” Sooga answered. His voice was strained under the pain. “Just south of Whistling Hill.”

“We’re close to the East Post,” Ghost muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Two hours, maybe three.”

“That is, if it’s still standing,” Spirit sighed. “Do either of you know where Ganon’s troops are spread out now?”

“Forty percent of Ganon’s army is heading northeast; Akkala,” Sooga answered again. Huh, Kohga didn’t know this stuff, when had they been briefed about Ganon’s plans again? “Once the citadel falls they plan to circle around clockwise over the following days.”

That gave Spirit and Ghost both some pause. In the pause the sound of the slate crackling horribly in Spirit’s hands echoed across the hill.

“So he hasn’t hit Fort Hateno yet,” Spirit was the one to end the awful sound by speaking. They didn’t wait for a response before they turned their attention to the sky, to the festering storm of Ganon. “And how long has the Calamity been active?”

...They didn’t know? Well, Kohga supposed messengers of the goddess might be a bit behind in times.

“That eyesore’s been around for a day now; woke up yesterday morning.” He jumped to his feet, throwing his good arm out to his side. “But come on! If we’re gonna be buddy-buddy from now on you gotta tell me your backstories!”

“Maybe later,” Spirit laughed.

Then the two birdies stood up, gathering the few supplies littered around their very open emergency camp. Sooga took one of the hands extended to him–a favor not given to Kohga, rude–and heaved himself to his feet. His legs weren’t as solid as Kohga would have wanted, but it was far better than before.

“We’re heading to the Eastern Post, will you be able to make it?” Spirit asked Sooga. They held out a small bottle of a pink tonic to him, one different than the other potions they had emptied out to flush out the infection of malice.

Sooga took the potion, but shook his head all the same. “I’ll just slow you all down. Take Master Kohga to safety, I will keep your back clear.”

“There’s no need for that,” Spirit waved him off. “You’re far more helpful alive than dead, I think you’ll agree. That’s a fairy tonic, it should be enough to give you the strength to reach the post.”

“And after the post?” Kohga leaned down towards Ghost’s mask, staring straight into the endless black eyes.

They shrugged, and that was all the answer they would give.

...Kohga was regretting this.

Without another word both birdies turned south, away from Kohga and toward the road, sparing not a second glance at the smoking castle behind them. They motioned for the yiga to follow, and they began to make their way to the road without bothering to check if Kohga and Sooga were following.

Chapter 4: Trapped in a Bird Cage

Chapter Text

Kohga never traveled often, he’d never really had the need to. Most of his life had been spent in the desert, and the few times he had ever ventured out—dressed up as some random traveler he’d happened to pass by—he’d rarely stuck to a path for long. So he’d never really realized how boring and repetitive traveling by foot was. It’d taken them two hours to even reach the stupid road to begin with, and after an hour of walking along the stone bricks Kohga swore they had been walking for weeks.

The sting from his arm and overall soreness of his body certainly didn’t help endear Kohga to the journey. Aside from his arm, everything else was a combination of bruising and scrapes. He’d made it out of the fight with the hollow in a decent condition, everything considered. Though he was exhausted beyond belief and felt as though he could fall asleep on the side of the road for a week straight.

But most importantly he hadn’t died from a malice infection—he almost wished he had died to save himself from all the walking—so the potions must’ve done the trick. It only raised the question of how in Din’s name the birdies knew it would work.

Which brought him to his current interrogation. “Hylia’s messenger birds given hylian form to guide me through the Calamity.”

“Not even remotely close.”

“Super secret band of sheikah that patrol the sacred forests and now you’re on your way to report that one of the forest’s has fallen under Ganon’s reign.”

“Very creative, but no.”

“Vengeful spirits who perished in Ganon’s last rising and are back to take revenge on him.”

Spirit laughed dryly and tilted her head towards him. “Surely you’ve exhausted all your theories by now.”

“That wasn’t a no to my last guess!”

“It certainly wasn’t a yes, either.”

Neither of the birdies were very talkative—that wasn’t true, the two whispered among themselves constantly but barely spoke to either of the yiga—but Kohga had managed to rope Spirit into his little interrogation game. Not that it had gotten him anywhere. He hadn’t learned anything new about the birdies in the entire thirty minutes of poking and prodding.

Kohga could name all the things he knew about the birdies on one hand. One, he knew they were young, probably in their early twenties at the oldest. Two, they had sheikah technology. And three, they had some goal that they were marching off to. Kohga didn’t even know what they were marching him and Sooga off to. There was no plan past the Eastern Post, just shrugs and silence. Which, while on the topic of the Eastern Post…

Clearing his throat, Kohga barely managed to get a reaction out of the two birdies leading the group. They didn’t even bother to turn their heads back, nor to slow down.

“Not to rain on this little parade we’ve got going on here,” he started, gesturing towards himself and Sooga, “but I don’t think a military post is going to be throwing a welcoming party for a couple of yiga.”

“Or two strangers obscuring their identity,” Sooga added. He certainly looked a lot better than he had right after the fight with the hollow. The fairy tonic had given him enough of a boost that he was managing to walk on his own, albeit not without a slight stutter in his step. He said he was feeling fine each time Kohga pestered him about it, but Kohga was starting to get anxious. They needed somewhere safe to rest.

Kohga sped up to walk in front of the birdies, a feat that took more stamina from him than he thought. He turned on his heel, holding out both his arms and stopping them in their tracks. “Back it up, birdies! How are we getting to the military post without meeting an untimely death?”

“We…” Spirit trailed off with a small stutter in their step. They corrected themself with a clearing of their throat. “We’ll think of something before we get them. I’m sure.”

Great, Kohga thought as he dropped his arms back to his side and fell into step behind the birdies again. He had just managed to escape death and now his saviors were going to get him killed for real.

The closer they got to the post the more noise there was. What had started as a quiet, desolate walk with nary a bird or cricket became a trudge through wind carried sobs and shouts. The first civilian they had passed had been a kid, no older than fifteen. They had been alone, curled on the side of the road pressed against a tree with dried tears on their cheeks. The child hadn’t reacted to the yiga passing them by, hadn’t looked up at Spirit as they had set some bread in the kid’s hands and given them directions to the post.

The other civilians were more reactive. Many stared at Kohga and Sooga with wide eyes, their hands shaking in fear as they scrambled to grab any semblance of weapon or run to the opposite side of the road. There were a few who had an ounce of bravery left in them, rushing forward with a dull blade to try to strike down the yiga who had played a part in the destruction of their lives.

The civilians that cursed at them stuck in Kohga’s mind more vividly; the civilians who begged for their life to end for one reason or another. Each time, no matter how fearful or vengeful the person, Spirit or Ghost would step in and reassure them with soft words and much needed supplies. Potions, rations, rupees, and even spare clothes passed from their hands and found their way into the white knuckled grasps of the newly homeless.

Too much of this reminded Kohga of the stories carved into yiga history. Innocent people caught up in things bigger than themselves. For the yiga it had been the kingdom casting the sheikah away in fear, the mass genocides of the confused families. For Hyrule, the people had been abandoned by their gods and left to be casualties in their war. He didn’t forgive Hyrule for what it had done to his people, he never would. But he couldn’t . . . he didn’t think about the repercussions of bringing forth the harbinger of power and how that would affect everything.

Kohga wasn’t a good person. He stole, he killed. He had hurt innocent people before, set his men to burn down a town just to drive the princess out of it. But this was too much even for him. Following Ganon’s orders, getting revenge on the kingdom? It had made Kohga blind to it all, he hadn’t absorbed and contemplated the larger picture of what they were doing, what he was doing. Now he was standing in the center of his actions, and a small sliver of guilt settled in his heart.

It was guilt for the yiga he had led to their deaths, but it was guilt for much more, too.

The closer they got to the post the more people they encountered, and with each one Ghost and Spirit would take the time to calm them, to talk to them, to listen to them. They were experienced with it, and it made Kohga question their lives even more. They talked in calm voices and listened even as a mother sobbed and rambled about losing a child for minutes on end, or when an injured soldier lamented not being able to save his fellow soldiers from a guardian. Despite being in a rush to get to the post, the birdies spent just over an hour just talking to everyone they passed.

Eventually the post came into view, as did the dozens of people standing outside it. The gates were wide open with a river of people passing through it. Guards ushered people inside, shouting at those on the outskirts of the road to hurry inside, that it was not safe for them to remain on the roads. Cries of lynel sightings and corpses found down the road rang through the people, but it all became replaced with shouts of “Yiga!”

The gates slammed closed, locking people inside and out. The crowded road became empty, and the guards remained the only people in the yiga’s path. A mother hid a small child behind her legs, glaring at the yiga as they passed with a muted and tired venom in her eyes. It was the same look in the eyes of all the civilians they passed as they neared the gates. It was a seething anger and hatred, buried under exhaustion and fear. Kohga could only assume that the same look was present in the eyes hidden under the helmets of the guards stationed in a line in front of the gate. An assortment of swords and spears were trained on the chests of Spirit and Ghost as they approached, heads held high and hoods still down.

“We’ll handle this, just stay quiet for now,” Spirit whispered over their shoulder. Kohga wouldn’t have possibly heard it if the road hadn’t become as silent as a church as they stood face to face with what was left of the Eastern Post guard.

There were five guards in total, all sporting those oversized helmets and beaten and battered armor. The one presumably leading the small squadron stepped forward, forcing Spirit and Ghost to stop in their tracks if they didn’t want to walk directly into her. The captain’s left arm was missing, bloodied bandages marking a stump where it used to be. If she was still up and defending after an amputation, they didn’t have any soldiers to spare.

“State your name and purpose,” the captain barked. She glared at them as she eyed them all up and down, the blue of her eyes only drawing attention to the dark bags under her eyes.

“Spirit and Ghost, we’re escorting the captured traitors to Lady Impa,” Spirit answered smoothly. “We’d like to seek shelter and rest here for a few days.”

Captured? The terrifying, beautiful, powerful Master Kohga? And by these twigs?

The captain didn’t back down, her grip on her sword tightening if anything. “And who exactly are Spirit and Ghost?”

“We’re part of a small faction of the sheikah clan from the western forests,” Ghost added just as seamlessly. “We were stationed at Mount Satori before Ganon’s forces attacked and overpowered the few of us. While on our way to report the attack to Lady Impa we found and subdued the leader of the yiga and his second in command.”

...Now hold on just a minute. They couldn’t just steal Kohga’s backstory for them! If the kingdom ever recovered he was . . . he was going to sue! Still he kept his lips sealed. There was no use ratting them out when doing so would just earn Kohga a sword through the throat.

“You two don’t look sheikah,” the captain sneered. “And I’ve never heard of a forest faction of the clan.”

“We’re hylian” –Spirit agreed with a nod– “but we serve the sheikah clan. Our faction is smaller, and we have so rarely left the wilds. Very few know of our existence.”

The captain shifted her gaze to the slate strapped to Spirit’s side, nodding her head toward it. “I’ve seen sheikah use the slates to communicate before. Have Lady Impa send her word and I’ll consider letting you in.”

“Unfortunately the slates are down.” Spirit unclipped the slate, pointing the screen toward the captain and holding it out towards her. “We’ve gotten nothing but static when we try to do anything more than use the storage.”

The captain stared silently between the crackling slate and the masked hylians in front of her. Growing restless, the soldiers behind the captain shifted on their feet, the grips on their weapons never faltering. Eventually the captain sighed, lowering her sword and stepping back. The rest of the soldiers followed suit quickly.

“The yiga will stay in the prison during your stay.” The captain gestured to Kohga and Sooga with her sword. “You’ll be responsible for feeding them and keeping them from bleeding out.”

“Excuse—” Kohga’s protest died in a cough as Ghost rammed his elbow into Kohga’s gut.

“Thank you,” Spirit responded as Kohga struggled to regain his bearings. “If there’s anything you need help with while we’re here we would be more than happy to help.”

The captain lightly huffed, motioning for the guards to part and open the gate. “Good, we could use extra hands in dealing with these monster attacks. Ask around the post for Sotilo after you dump these two off at the prison, she’ll know what to do with you. ”

The gates swung open with a loud metal clang. Spirit and Ghost bowed their heads towards the captain who stepped aside for them to pass, the captain getting an amused look on her face as they did.

“May the light of the gods protect this post and the people within,” Spirit said before raising their head back up, Ghost following suit.

“May they be with you as well,” the captain replied.

The gate slammed closed behind them, locking the two liar kids and two betrayed yiga in.

The prison was cold.

And boring.

And drafty.

And Kohga was going to go mad if those birdies didn’t show back up like they promised.

They had all but b-lined to the jail as soon as a startled goron had pointed them in the correct direction, giving Kohga absolutely no time to sightsee before being thrown in a tiny stone cell. Though he doubted it mattered, he had mostly been focused on keeping Sooga on his feet and keeping up with Spirit and Ghost’s near sprint through the narrow streets. Though he had been able to notice that the townsfolk didn’t seem as terrified as the civilians outside the post, presumably set at ease by their permitted entrance. Still didn’t stop them from glaring daggers at Kohga and Sooga as they passed, despite the two looking as if they were a few steps from death’s door. The latter, more so than the former.

After the singular guard posted at the prison shoved them into a cell, Spirit and Ghost had stuck behind just long enough to shove some more potions their way and sew Kohga and Sooga back together. The amount of medical supplies they had crammed in their shared slate was comical, more than the entire yiga clan had back at their base. Once the stitches were done–and done cleanly at that–and their hands were clean the birdies left without even giving them a proper goodbye.

They had left three hours ago, and Kohga was getting impatient. He leaned his head back against the cell bars for the tenth time that hour. “When do you think our mother hens will get back?”

Sooga sighed, setting down the potion bottle he had just emptied. “You asked me this ten minutes ago. I do not know.”

“I’m going to starve before they get back!’”

“The rations they left are sitting beside you, master Kohga.”

“Those are bland,” Kohga groaned, pushing the tightly wrapped bread and dried meat away from him. “I bet the two of them are eating like royalty without us.”

“Where would they be procuring this feast, master?”

“Well the Goddess spat them out, She can spit them out some food, too.”

Kohga traced a finger down the rusted metal bars, which were sadly the most interesting thing about the cell. There were two sheets thrown on the ground that acted as “beds” and a wooden bucket in the corner for “relief” and absolutely nothing else. They hadn’t even been given pillows for Din’s sake. Kohga was not looking forward to waking up with a crick in his neck.

The new prison guard was fast asleep on a chair facing Kohga and Sooga’s cell. They were the only “prisoners” in the entire post, and the guard had been very adamant on fulfilling his job since switching out with the first guard. Not that he was a very good guard. If Kohga had really wanted to he would’ve busted Sooga and himself out of the prison hours ago. But the birdies had made him swear to his mother’s grave and back that he would stay put until they returned.

He had never wanted to disobey orders more in his life.

Thankfully he didn’t have to wallow for much longer for his boredom to end. The guard jerked awake at the sound of scuffled footsteps echoing through the small jail, he jumped to his feet, attempting to cover up the sleep still clouding his thoughts. When the guard caught sight of the visitors in the candlelight he visibly relaxed, all his composure and respect gone in an instant.

“Took ya long enough,” he grumbled.

“Sorry, we got caught up in something,” Spirit’s voice rang through the lonely prison.

“So I heard.”

“Were there any issues?”

“Whiny bastards, but behaved.” The guard scoffed, grabbing his helmet from the table and stepping around the two. “I’m out for the night, you got fifteen minutes of private chit-chat before another guard’ll take my place.”

Spirit’s head swiveled to watch him, their voice disbelieving as they spoke, “You’re leaving us? I… Hadn’t been aware we had earned your trust.”

The guard scoffed, “Even if y’all are lyin’ about bein’ sheikah clan, no pawn o’ Ganon would willingly volunteer to fight off a damned lynel to help the guard.”

...They did what?

The guard waved the birdies off as Ghost started to speak. He grabbed his sword from where he had rested it against the wall, tipping his head towards them. “Night, strangers. No jailbreaks.”

When the door to the jail slammed closed Ghost and Spirit relaxed. Ghost slumped to the floor, leaning their head back on the edge of the table while Spirit all but collapsed into the guard’s chair. By Din did they look worse for wear. Both were soaked in blood, though neither looked injured so Kohga was left to assume it belonged to someone–or something–else. They looked exhausted more than they looked hurt.

Though they apparently went off to fight a lynel, so Kohga wasn’t surprised they looked three seconds away from passing out.

“You two aren’t very punctual,” Kohga hummed against the bars. “There’s a saying about early birdies and worms, you know.”

Ghost groaned.

Kohga reached one of his hands outside the bars and let it dangle limply at the wrist with a laugh. “Poor birdies get their wings clipped by a lynel?”

“We’re fine, Ghost got nicked but he’s fine now,” Spirit bit back before running a hand through their tangled and lightly bloodied hair. “And you? How’re your stitches?”

“Sore,” Sooga answered from the far end of the cell. “I should be walking tomorrow.”

Ghost snorted a short laugh.

“You should focus on resting for at least another day,” Spirit said while pulling another potion from the slate on their hip. They rolled it towards the bars for Kohga to grab through the bars. “We plan on leaving the post in two days, if all goes well.”

He picked it up and stared at it for a moment, before looking back to the birdies. “So you decided to keep us around, then. Good choice there, Bluebird! The yiga are the best help you can get this side of the Great Sea!”

“I didn’t say that, exactly,” they sighed. “We don’t trust you fully, I hope you can understand. And until we can our contract will be… Wholly circ*mstantial.”

“And what’s this circ*mstantial contract entail, hm?” Kohga leaned closer to the bars with the hum in the back of his throat.

“Right now? I… I don’t know. Companionship–as bad at it as you are? Guides?” They sounded confused at their own words.

It was obvious that neither of the birdies had really thought through the whole “accepting the allyship of the yiga” thing. But it was obvious too that there… There was a hint of truth beneath Spirit’s half formed excuses.

Whatever in Din’s name that meant. Kohga sure didn’t know.

“So, uh, what was the orb guy’s deal?” Ghost spoke up suddenly, and Kohga had almost forgotten that the disheveled birdie had a voice at all. “The one you want dead.”

Kohga seethed at the reminder of the vile man. He grit his teeth long enough that the whistling through the stone of the cell began to drive him even more mad.

“The traitor to the yiga and right hand of the Calamity,” Sooga answered in Kohga’s stead, “Astor. He was once the fortune teller for the royal family, before he was cast out for his visions of the impending rise of Ganon.”

Ghost’s head flicked toward Spirit, who had jolted at the man’s name. Their empty eyes stared into each others. The silence stretched onward until Spirit shook their head.

“He was suspected of falsehoods, of using his position to push the tellings of the Calamity worshiping cult that the nobles had thought him of falling into,” Spirit said, though their words were directed more towards the birdie at their side than at the yiga behind the bars. “No one had heard of him after his outcast.”

“You know the man?” Sooga asked, surprised. “And yet you did not recognize him.”

A strangled silence followed. Spirit’s shoulders had grown tense, and even the hand that patted their knee did nothing to soothe it.

“She had heard stories about him a long time ago; nobles gossip,” Ghost answered for her. “But how did he end up in charge of you all?”

In charge of the yiga?! To think that miserable excuse for a right hand man could lead the yiga clan of all things!

“He didn’t end up in charge of anything!” Kohga huffed and crossed his arms over his chest–ignoring the small breaths of laughter from his side of the bars. “The traitor showed up at our doorstep one day looking like some beggar from the street. Almost turned him away before a tiny guardian thing reeking of Ganon’s power blasted a hole through our entrance.

“He called himself Ganon’s Divine Messenger, that ego-centric scam.”

There had been no denying that the guardian tailing the fortune telling had been a vessel for Ganon, anyone could tell just from a glance. And being in the same room as the thing? Oh, it had been suffocating and terrifying and exciting. There had been so much power hiding inside such a tiny, unassuming machine that had most likely lived its life as a toy or something before.

Spirit nodded a few times, and Kohga could only guess that she was in deep thought. The masks were annoying, he couldn't get even a small inclination as to what either of them was thinking.

The yiga masks weren’t annoying, though. They were cool.

“So after Ganon rose,” Spirit spoke slowly, careful of her words, “Astor saw no more use for the yiga and turned against your people.”

That was simplifying things a bit, but Kohga supposed they weren’t wrong exactly.

Kohga turned his back to the birdies in favor of leaning against the bars, it wasn’t like he gained anything from watching them talk anyway.

The sound of water dripping onto stone echoed in Kohga’s ears, some of the drips muffled by the moss growing between the cracks in the bricks. He wasn’t looking forward to sleeping on the floor, not that he couldn’t fall asleep on the floor. He could fall asleep comfortably just about anywhere, it was about the humiliation of it! The Master Kohga of the yiga clan, reduced to a prisoner in a cage sleeping on the floor when he had willingly sworn himself to the path of light.

Or whatever path it was that the birdies followed. They weren’t fond of Ganon, so they probably weren’t evil. Or at least as evil as Ganon, which was a step up for Kohga.

“Ganon needed the essence of life to grow his power upon his awakening,” Sooga explained. “Awakening from his prison drained him of too much of his strength, and so the yiga were instructed to free souls in his name to feed him.”

“But when that traitor grew too confident in his freaky blight things and sent flies to slay Champions and then lost when they found competent backup, he insisted on making up for lost essence.” Kohga clenched his jaw at the reminder to hold back the burn of acid and twist of nausea. It passed just as quickly. “Said that the growing strength of the enemy required a change in plans.”

“Which was to harvest the energy of the yiga,” Spirit finished for him. “In the hopes that it would be enough to attempt to overpower the Champions once more.”

“Which means the Champions are alive,” Ghost said–startling Kohga yet again. How hard was it to talk every once and a while? Stop scaring a guy.

“They had help,” Spirit muttered.

“Do you think it’s them?”

Them?

Kohga resisted his desire to crane his neck back to look through the bars. Of course they would stay mysterious about the one and only thing they had let slip. That didn’t mean Kohga needed to be obviously desperate to pick apart their every word.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” was Spirit’s answer with a humorless laugh. “It would make things rather convenient for us, don’t you think?”

Spirit’s grip on the slate tightened, despite the light tone in her words, and Kohga half expected the screen to crack with how loud the creak of leather gloves was.

In the silence that followed Kohga did allow himself to look. Ghost was leaning close to Spirit’s side, his mask tilted up toward her own and his hand laced in hers on her knee. It was a sickening sight, so gently intimate that it felt like Kohga had walked in on someone naked.

Kohga looked back at the wall beside Sooga, doing his best to purge the image of thumbs rubbing against the backs of bloodied gloves.

“Where were the Champions last seen?” Ghost asked after an eternity of tracing the patterns of moss on stone.

“Zora’s Domain,” Sooga answered.

“And the Princess?”

“She and the Hero are with the Champions.”

Spirit tapped the fingers of her free hand against the slate in a dull, slow beat of thuds. “And Ganon’s forces are heading towards Akkala as we speak, you had said?”

“Yep!” Kohga chuckled. “It’ll crumble under Ganon’s hooves by nightfall tomorrow.”

“Fort Hateno is next,” Ghost said in a quiet, tired sigh.

“Then that’s where we’ll go,” Spirit responded, sounding equally as exhausted. “If we had only come sooner–”

“It’s not worth thinking about,” Ghost cut her off.

That answer didn’t seem to satisfy Spirit, as only a few seconds later she pushed herself to stand and dropped Ghost’s hand entirely. Ghost was close to follow, of course. He was akin to a strange shadow at Spirit’s back. A guard to a noble.

The birdies shook the creaks from their joints, and Kohga realized with a pang that they were preparing to leave; after they had left him alone for so long!

Left him and Sooga alone together for so long.

“You aren’t leaving poor old me so soon, are you?” Kohga joked with fake desperation in his voice that wasn’t real at all, it couldn’t possibly be. He was above such things!

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Ghost said. He had grown more talkative the more the night had gone on, that was good.

“I want answers!” Kohga argued. “I can’t wait until morning!”

“Alright then, ask us a question,” Spirit hummed as she clipped the slate to her belt and straightened the creases that had formed in her pants. “We’ll answer it, honestly. We owe you at least that much for throwing you in jail, I think.”

The soulless eyes of her mask stared down at him, and he gulped despite the victory blossoming in his chest.

Any question, and they’d answer it honestly. That was a lot of power.

He thought about it for a good long second. Asking about them was stupid, as he was sure he would find out eventually. Asking for their real names would get him… Well nowhere aside from having a couple of names that meant nothing to him.

“That tear the two of you fell out of,” he said and shuddered at the way their heads turned just slightly in unison. “What was it?”

“A portal we opened using sheikah technology,” she answered immediately. “We–”

The door to the jail swung open with a loud metallic bang and the two birdies jumped, their head swiveling toward the noise. When the scuffle of boots against stone clattered through the short hall the birdies relaxed and Ghost stepped forward with a sigh to retake Spirit’s hand in his own.

“Time’s up.”

Without another word Spirit turned on her heel and waved once at the yiga. As the new guard stepped in to take their shift the birdies passed by without a single greeting muttered. It didn’t stop Kohga from shouting out at them one last time.

“I want an actual answer tomorrow!”

“We’ll see,” came Ghost’s muffled answer. The jail door slammed shut, and the new guard settled into the small wooden chair across from Kohga and Sooga’s cell.

Chapter 5: Battle for the Citadel Pt. 1

Chapter Text

Chaos. That was the only word that came to Zelda’s mind as she raced through the Citadel grounds.

The ground exploded beneath her with each step she took and her heartbeat fell in sync with the thudding of her feet. Though she couldn’t hear her heart over the shrieking ring in her ears, she could feel it slamming against her throat and the tips of her fingers. One of her hands was gripped tightly around the sheikah slate like her life depended on it, her other hung limply in her knight’s own. She couldn’t feel that one, she wasn’t sure if it was because of the adrenaline in her veins or her knight’s white knuckled grip.

They had split off from the others, but Zelda couldn’t remember how long ago that had been. The last thing she remembered before the ash and the terror had been Impa shouting something at her, the little guardian wrapped in Impa’s arms. Zelda had no time to reach out for Impa before she turned, had no time to scream as the wall to her right shattered.

Her knight had taken her hand then, yanking her down some stone stairs as the head of a guardian rammed itself through the crumbling wall. The two were long gone when the first laser was fired.

Zelda’s hand hadn’t left her knight’s and the two of them hadn’t stopped running since then. She wasn’t even sure where he was taking her, wasn’t even sure if he himself knew. That didn’t stop her from sharply turning left when he pulled on her arm, a hot sting scraping the tip of her ear. She could smell burnt hair, but any flames were quickly extinguished by the pouring rain.

Her knight skidded into a burning wreckage of a wagon, though it didn’t stop his momentum as he tugged her along in a new direction. They were being chased, Zelda knew that much, but in her knight’s frantic zig-zagging she hadn’t gotten so much of a glimpse of what it was. Something slammed into the ground beside her, and Zelda’s knight yanked her harshly in the opposite direction.

Zelda bit back a pained gasp when she was shoved behind the remains of a low wall. Her knight’s hand slipped away from hers as he vaulted over the crumbling stone, brandishing the sacred sword in a fluid motion. The blade lit up in an ethereal light, cutting through the darkness cast by Ganon’s shadow. Peeking her head over the wall Zelda’s heart dropped into her stomach at the sight of a guardian.

The guardian jerked to the side, moving more like a beast than a machine. It was the Ganon’s influence, Zelda knew, but it still made her skin crawl watching the guardian twist its legs and tilt its head in ways it hadn’t been programmed to. Zelda sat pressed against the wall, frozen as her knight ducked and darted between thrashing legs and white hot beams of light. Her grip on the slate tightened as the sacred blade carved through one of the guardian’s legs, the appendage sizzling in the rain.

Before she could even open the runes on her slate Zelda’s knight was driving his sword into the guardian’s eye, twisting the blade harshly and earning a mechanical shriek in return. The guardian collapsed to the ground in an anti-climactic thud. Once its legs had stopped twitching her knight ripped his sword from the husk, letting it hang limp at his side while he stared at the guardian, then at everything around them.

Zelda followed his gaze, her eyes landing on the corpses that lined the ground. She hastily looked away before the bile could begin to climb up her throat, and she found herself staring at the outstretched hand of her knight. His sword was still gripped tightly in his left hand, but his right was held out to her, waiting.

She took it, wrapping her hand around his so tightly that her thumb sat on top of the tips of her fingers. Nodding her head, her knight began to lead her once again.

Unable to take her eyes away from the destruction around her, Zelda set to scanning for even a glimpse of the Champions. Instead of blue fabric she found her eyes dragged to a single soldier standing outside the entrance to one of the still-standing watchtowers. They were frantically waving an arm above their head, their attention trained directly on Zelda and her knight.

“Princess!” Their voice cut through the ringing that was still shaking Zelda’s ears. She watched her knight’s head snap towards the voice, slowing to a stop. “Over here!”

She had no say in the matter as her knight tugged her along. Her feet stumbled beneath her as the ground changed from mud and grass to slick stone; the only thing that kept her upright was her knight’s hold that had moved from her fingers to wrap around her wrist. Her gold cuffs were hot against her skin and her knight’s hand was cold. The difference in temperature made it that much more noticeable when her knight let go, her hand dropping to her side like a stone.

Even as she was surrounded on all sides by soldiers rushing to ensure she was unharmed—pushing Zelda and her knight away from the caved-in entrance they had come from and deeper into the heart of the watchtower—Zelda remained glued to her knight’s side. Her feet followed his own as they wove between injured and bloodied soldiers. Their shoulders were nearly touching, and Zelda could bet that if she collapsed right in that very second he would catch her without missing a single beat.

“You shouldn’t be here, Princess. It’s not safe,” the voice from earlier said directly next to her ear. She turned her head with a jerk, taking in the soldier who followed closely beside her and her knight.

He was a taller man, much taller than herself and her knight but shorter than some other soldiers in attendance. His helmet was gone, a bloodied bandage wrapped tightly around his face covered the socket his left eye had once been. His choppy hair was singed on the tips, the smell of burnt hair only overpowered by the smell of metal and blood on him. A large dent decorated the metal plate on his right shoulder and Zelda realized with a sick start that he hadn’t moved that arm at all.

“Come,” he motioned for them to follow with his good arm as he stepped in front of them. “There’s an emergency bunker underneath this tower, you can stay there until Ganon’s forces leave.”

Her tongue was lead in her mouth as a thousand words pressed down against it. Every bone in her body wanted to refuse, to insist he help her find some way to help. She had her slate, that had to be enough. There had to be something she could do, some way the slate she had studied tirelessly could be of use. She parted her lips, only to wet them and snap them shut again when the words would not leap from her tongue.

“The Princess is to remain in my protection and my current orders are to assist in the defense of the Citadel. The Princess stays with me.” Link answered for Zelda, and she could’ve sobbed with relief if her throat wasn’t so dry. His voice was commanding, giving the soldier no room to argue. Despite being new to his position, Link had the authority over many of the soldiers stationed at the Citadel—as much as Zelda often forgot.

The soldier visibly forced whatever he was going to say back down his throat. His jaw clenched, before he released it with a stiff nod. “Understood.”

“Where is your captain?”

“Captain Mazon is stationed at the northern outpost, he’s the leading captain of my troop.” The soldier had stopped leading them through the crowd. He turned towards them, his back to a trapdoor that presumably led down into the bunker. “My troop was separated from him after the second wave of guardians hit.”

“What are your current orders?”

Zelda found herself staring at the hard expression of her knight. To anyone he could have looked cold, or perhaps even angry. She hadn’t seen him act like this before. He was acting . . . well, like someone of his position should. He was using his authority for the first time that Zelda knew of, and to anyone he would seem to be at home doing so. Had Zelda anything beside her knight to focus on in that moment, she would have believed that too, that he was simply meant for the position.

Yet her eyes were glued to the way his hands fidgeted at his sides, the way his jaw clenched and his eyes widened with his small frown instead of narrowed. She’d only seen him scared once before; back when he had pulled the sword to save her.

She saw it again in the face beside her.

“Captain Asea instructed my troop to lead any wounded to this tower and protect them.”

“How many captains are stationed here?”

“Four. Captain Mazon, Captain Asea, Captain Ophina, and Captain Cyrin.” The soldier stared at Zelda’s knight with something unreadable in his remaining eye after he had finished listing the small handful of Captains.

“Captain Cyrin is retired.”

“He returned to the ranks three days ago to help against the impending rise of the Calamity.”

Zelda knew some of those captains, knew them from their time stationed at the castle. But her knowledge of them was little, and she assumed that her knight knew more about the captains than her–considering he had been part of the ranks for years. Though she doubted he served under any of them, he’d only moved up to the soldier rank a year ago, and became her guard and hero just a few months later.

The soldier continued without being prompted. “Captain Asea and Captain Ophina are protecting the eastern and south-eastern outposts, I have not received word on either of their conditions since departing for the tower.”

“And Captain Cyrin?”

The soldier paused, wetting his lips as his eyes flicked between Zelda and her knight. He bowed his head ever-so-slightly, “He’s guarding the sheikah scientist inside the Citadel. No one has received word of anyone currently stationed within the Citadel’s walls since first contact with Ganon’s troops.”

Zelda felt her heart sink. Robbie was inside the Citadel, the same Citadel being ripped to pieces by every manner of beast. The doors to the Citadel remained sealed shut in a desperate attempt to protect the maids and researchers and families within its walls, but Zelda needed to get inside.

If Robbie was still alive, then Akkala Citadel may still have hope.

She could help, if only she could get beyond the door.

“Princess.” She wasn’t sure when she had looked away from her knight, but her eyes were on the floor and not his face any longer. At the sound of his voice her attention snapped up, her eyes meeting his own. His were soft, not as cool and harsh as they had been when speaking to the soldier.

“Yes?” She asked.

He nodded his head toward the slate still gripped in her hand. “Is the short range communication still up?”

“I would assume so.”

He nodded again, unclipping his own slate from his belt. He tapped his slate much slower than any of the other champions, a small furrow in his brow. After a few moments he seemed to finally get it working, holding the slate closer to his face. “Hylian captains at the eastern, south eastern, and northern outposts require backup.”

It took a few seconds for the slate to come to life in his hands. A crackling echo of Impa’s voice called back, “—derstood. Sending word to the Champ–. Vah Ruta has been spotted, expected arrival in ten minu–.”

Zelda leaned toward her knight’s slate, thankful as he held it closer for her to speak. “Impa? Do stay safe.”

“Will do, Princ—” The slate cut out before Impa could finish, resuming its annoying crackle.

The soldier continued to stare at them as Zelda’s knight clipped the slate back on his belt. The soldier didn’t say a word as her knight turned his attention back to him, the earlier resolve back on her knight’s face immediately. “Take the injured down to the bunker, we will send Princess Mipha your way when possible.”

The soldier nodded stiffly before standing straight, his chin held high. He raised his left hand in a salute, “May the Goddess light your path and protect you.”

He continued to hold his salute even as Zelda found her hand wrapped in her knight’s once again. Even as she was tugged away from the tower and the beaten and bloodied soldiers within. Even as the rain hit her with the force of a waterfall and her sandals slipped in the mud just outside the stone floors. The soldier’s gaze remained on her, his salute on her knight, until the moment they disappeared into the storm.

The guardian had just taken notice of Zelda and her knight when a burst of water sent it flying back, crashing into the Citadel doors. When it fell limp Ruta’s thundering cry shook the air, and Zelda couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her lips. The rain helped to cover any tears of relief Zelda shed at the sight of the divine beast towering above the battlefield.

Her knight had slid to a sudden stop at the sight of the guardian that had been stalking the bridge, but his full attention had shifted to Ruta. He and Zelda continued to watch as the divine beast proceeded to take aim at the guardians skittering across the Citadel wall.

Standing in the center of the bridge, surrounded by corpses and knights, Zelda and her knight watched guardians fly through the air, crashing into the cliffs surrounding the Citadel.

Vah Ruta let out another cry of triumph, and combined with the screeches of metal and the crumbling of rock everything became a deafening cacophony. Still, it only made Zelda’s smile grow wider. Ruta swept its trunk upwards, sending a wave of bokoblins and guardian stalkers soaring. One of the bokoblins landed with a sickening splat just a few feet infront of Zelda, reduced to nothing more than a motionless heap.

Under the endless rain, Vah Ruta was in its element.

A small tug on her arm drew Zelda’s attention away from the rampaging divine beast, and she fell back into step behind her knight as they crossed the now safe bridge. There were claw marks melted into the stone from where the guardian had been resting. Zelda carefully sidestepped the largest of the marks, feeling the heat emanating from it still. Molten stone dripped from the edges of the bridge, marking the path the guardian had taken when it had scrambled towards the Citadel.

The guardian was now hanging limp against the Citadel doors. A few of its legs had pierced through the metal, which was slowly melting around the appendages and cementing them as permanent fixtures to the Citadel. Runes that sparked with fire slowly danced around the destroyed machine, fizzling in and out of existence as whatever magic that had bound them to the guardian faded.

There was a large hole in the door that hadn’t melted around the leg that created it, giving Zelda a peek into the Citadel. She squinted, trying to make out the movement inside, but gave up just as fast. She picked up her pace instead, surpassing her knight and dragging him along for once. He gave no resistance as she ran towards the doors, ducking under the sprawled form of the guardian.

The hole wasn’t too big, only about as tall as Zelda’s torso and as wide as her arm. It didn’t stop her from ducking down, careful to avoid the still sizzling legs and hot metal as she stepped through the hole. It took some gentle tugging for her knight to follow her through, but he didn’t raise an objection.

Or perhaps he had, and Zelda couldn’t hear it over the ringing in her ears that had only just begun to fade.

She had no time to take in the Citadel as a spear clattered to her feet, the limp form of a soldier following just a heartbeat after. She jumped back, not surprised to see her knight standing in front of her already, an arm held out either to keep her from running or to guard her—Zelda wasn’t sure which. The soldier near Zelda’s feet wheezed, struggling onto his hands and knees before the strength left his body in an instant and he collapsed into the shallow pool of rainwater

There were other soldiers struggling to stay standing as a silver moblin let loose a pitiful bellow. It staggered forward, raising a club bigger than Zelda’s entire body above its head, and slammed it down on a soldier prone on their knees. Zelda bit her tongue, forcing herself not to focus on the crunch that echoed out as the soldier crumpled like a doll. The soldier didn’t move again.

The moblin turned its attention towards a soldier leaned against the wall, an arm wrapped around her torso as blood dripped from her armor. The beast charged forward, swinging its club this way and that, catching the soldier in the side and sending her crashing to the ground with a cry. Zelda took a step forward, reaching out a hand to do something, but she was stopped by her knight.

She turned, ready to argue, but his eyes were fixed on the moblin grabbing the leg of the soldier, swinging her like its club before throwing her against the wall. A loud crack rang in Zelda’s ears, and the soldier’s cries stopped.

A soldier charged forward, a long blade in hand. They managed to slip under the moblin’s arms, driving the sword into the moblin’s gut and earning a gargled scream from the monster before it wrapped its hand around the blade. It pulled the sword out, gripping it by the blade and swinging the hilt into the side of the soldier’s head. They stumbled back, gripping their head with a loud curse as blood dripped steadily into the layer of rainwater that had flooded the entrance.

“We have to help them,” Zelda choked out.

Still her knight didn’t meet her eyes. He responded by taking a step back, his arm pushing her to follow until her back pressed against the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut as the moblin reared the stolen sword back, swinging it down on the soldier nursing their head.

“The moblin is already wounded, we can finish it off quickly,” she urged, gripping the sleeve of his tunic in her hand. “Please.”

“It’s not safe,” he whispered back to her in a scratchy voice, echoing the words of the soldier from before.

“None of this is safe.”

Her knight hesitated, finally looking back over his shoulder at her. He winced as another soldier cried out, skidding across the stone floor and sending water splashing everywhere. When the moblin let out another roar her knight cursed under his breath, shooting Zelda a very pointed glance. “Stay here.”

She nodded.

Her knight stared into her eyes for another second before he snapped into a fighting stance like second nature. His arm was no longer pressed against Zelda’s collarbone as he ran forward, his approach drawing the full attention of the wounded beast. It growled, throwing the stolen sword at her knight, which he easily avoided. The moblin began frantically swinging its club, her knight sliding underneath the attacks and grabbing the arm of a fallen soldier. He dragged them to stand, before pulling them far from the beast’s range.

When the moblin roared again it charged her knight, who had put as much distance between himself and the injured soldier leaned against the wall as possible. Zelda watched as her knight ran around, pushing soldiers from death and scraping by getting clobbered himself, with her back firmly pressed against the wall.

Her knight wasn’t moving fast enough to kill, nor fast enough to tire the beast out. He was stalling.

She grit her teeth, there had to be something she could do. Her knight was more focused on keeping the soldiers alive than actually dealing with the moblin, and he would tire himself out before the moblin would. The soldiers all looked on death’s door, and even if her knight turned all his attention to killing the moblin there would surely be casualties caught in the fray.

Her grip on the slate tightened, before faltering. She snapped her eyes to the slate, turning it in her hand so the screen reflected her own exhausted face.

Her fingers flicked through the screens on the slate with ease, her hands knowing exactly where each feature was located before her mind could catch up. She hovered over the cryonis rune, her fingers shaking as her eyes darted between the moblin and her knight, waiting for the right moment. When her knight stumbled forward, just far enough out of range, Zelda slammed her finger down on the rune.

Coldness washed over her as frost crept across the flooded entrance. The ice darted towards the moblin as if it were alive, and before she could blink the water around the moblin’s feet was frozen solid.

The beast screamed, thrashing its entire body in an attempt to rip itself from its frozen binds. It slammed its club against the ice, bellowing when the ice surrounded the wooden club and crept up its arm upon contact. Within seconds the Moblin was frozen solid, its mouth open in a silent cry.

Zelda powered down the rune and shook off the frost that had begun to creep around her fingers. She pressed the slate to her chest, shivering at the chill that was rapidly fading in the absence of cryonis. Her knight was helping one of the fallen soldiers up, a man with a large dent in the armor around his leg. Her knight stopped when he noticed her eyes on him, his expression falling from concerned to an impassive one.

She stepped forward, meeting his stare with a small smile. “I didn’t move, did I?”

Her knight shook his head with a small huff and adjusted the soldier leaned against his side. “No, you didn’t.”

The conversation ended there as her knight turned all his attention back to the soldier struggling with consciousness. Tucking her slate under her arm, Zelda trudged through the water to help her knight support the soldier. The soldier’s head lolled to the side to look at her as she approached, his eyes widening.

“Pr-princess? What . . . are you doing here?” He whispered through cracked lips. Zelda put on her kindest smile, taking the soldier’s hand in her own and squeezing it gently.

“I’ve come to help. What sort of princess would I be if I left you all behind?”

The soldier looked at her like she was divinity herself, tears welling in his eyes. “Then . . . your power?”

“The Champions and I are here with backup, you can rest now.”

Guilt burned her throat as the soldier smiled, shutting his eyes and slumping fully against her knight. The only tell that he was still alive was the uneven rise and fall of his chest and high-pitched wheezing with each breath. Zelda wasn’t sure if she could live with the guilt of giving a dead man false hope.

“Leave him here,” a voice choked out from behind Zelda. She turned, finding a soldier shakily supporting herself on a broken spear. The soldier’s face was dark red, a mark that would surely bruise horribly in the coming days. Her left leg was tucked under her, blood dripping from it under her armor. Zelda wasn’t a nurse, and would never claim to be, but even she knew that the soldier should not be standing, let alone fighting. “I’ll tend to the injured, you two need to get out of here.”

“I’m looking for Robbie, the sheikah researcher who sent the distress signal out.” Zelda let go of the collapsed soldier’s hand as her knight set him down against one of the walls. “I’m not leaving until I find him.”

“Hylia above,” the soldier cursed under her breath. “The scientist and Captain got separated from us when the lynel attacked. We haven’t seen either of them since.”

A lynel? How did a lynel get inside the sealed off Citadel?

Zelda bit the inside of her mouth, worrying away at it. “There can’t be many places they could go, right? Surely someone has seen—”

“They were headed to the lab, top floor,” a deeper voice cut in. A burly soldier laid a hand on Zelda’s shoulder, mud and blood smearing on her skin. He was staring directly at her knight. “Avoid the lynel, it’d be foolish for you to go after it with the Princess in tow. Take the stairs down through the maid quarters then up to the kitchens, you’ll find your scientist down that path.”

Her knight nodded. He sheathed his sword and held out a hand for Zelda to take. She did so with no hesitation and bowed her head at the disheveled soldiers around her.

“Thank you,” she expressed before her knight tugged on her arm and led her towards a large set of wooden doors.

The doors swung open with difficulty, but shut with a slam behind Zelda before she could so much as look at the soldiers one last time. Cold air smelling strongly of the rain and metal hit her face as she entered the empty hall. It was stone brick, ceiling to floor. Not a single window lined the walls, the light coming instead from torches fixed into simple sconces. It cast the narrow hall in a warm orange, but did nothing to stave away the cold that seeped into Zelda’s bones.

She took a deep breath before tugging gently on Link’s hand, a silent plea for him to show her the way.

He obliged without a word.

Chapter 6: Battle for the Citadel Pt. 2

Chapter Text

She lost track of how many turns they took. It was impossible to remember when the hollowness of the Citadel steadily filled with more people that blocked their path. There were so many civilians crammed in the musty halls of the maid quarters.

Mothers and their sick children huddled against the walls, empty potion bottles at their feet. Soldiers nursed wounds that cut through their steel armor; wounds that soaked bandages and drained their skin of its color. Blankets were draped over still forms, cold hands poking through that would never move again.

Zelda focused on her knight in front of her instead of the raspy voices calling her name. Her title dripped from their tongues like silk. Their voices were filled with hope and warmth, emotions that those same titles had ripped from her long ago. Their eyes burned her skin as they scoured her for divinity. They looked at her like she was a goddess, and Zelda couldn’t hate that more. Couldn’t they pray to an actual goddess? Couldn’t they look to anyone else for salvation besides her?

But they did.

Her title was not the only one spilling down the halls. For every “Princess” shouted there was a “Champion” close behind. Hero, Goddess, Chosen, Your Grace. Titles that held so much meaning meant nothing when hacked and coughed from the throats of the very people who spoke those titles in their prayers. Words piled on their shoulders as the Holy Princess and the Reborn Hero squeezed through narrow halls made even smaller by the eyes following their each step.

Despite the anger that burned in her heart at the praise, Zelda preferred the misplaced devotion to the curses: the spitting insults thrown at Zelda’s feet by the broken innocents whose lives had been destroyed absolutely, the accusations of cowardice that slotted nicely next to all the others that had been carved into Zelda’s heart years ago. She did her best to block their words out, just as her knight seemed to. He continued to lead her through the quarters without pause. He didn’t stop for the soldiers and knights calling his name, nor for the poor man grabbing at his feet with blood on his hands and death in his eyes. He just kicked the man off him with wide-eyes and did not look back.

Her knight pulled her through a door to their left and no one followed them as her knight pulled the door shut with more force than necessary. The click of the door locked them away from the people they were supposed to protect and Zelda felt that she could breathe comfortably again. Neither of them moved, standing hand-in-hand facing the old wood door. Zelda relaxed as the shouts and cries faded until they could no longer be heard through the stone and wood.

She looked at her knight when he squeezed her hand ever-so gently, nodding upwards at the spiral staircase that loomed over their heads. He waited for her to nod before turning away from the desperate hope locked behind wooden doors, leading her up the stairs.

The roar of a lynel scared any and all of Zelda’s lingering thoughts of the civilians away. She and her knight fell silent, straining to hear where it was coming from. There were sounds of fighting and fire, but it was too distant to make out and far too dangerous to search for. When everything fell silent and the coast was decidedly clear Zelda’s knight pulled her along with more urgency than ever, not giving her a chance to find her footing each time she lost it. They didn’t encounter any more people aside from charred corpses sprawled across the place. Zelda couldn’t recognize any of the faces, but she could tell that only a handful were knights. Most were maids, cooks, squires; all of them, just civilians.

They were climbing another set of stairs and the bodies were left abandoned behind them.

“The lab is down this hall,” her knight said as he slammed open a rickety door.

He gestured his head towards the lab in question as they neared it, though it wasn’t hard to miss. The door was much larger than the others, made of metal and not of wood like all the rest. Torches of blue fire flickered on either side of the sealed entrance, one looking dangerously close to burning out.

Zelda quickened her pace, forcing her knight to do the same to keep up. They raced down the hall, the cold stone echoing their mis-matched steps. A few tapestries decorated the walls, depicting images of the war ten thousand years ago and various prophecies throughout history. Many of them were tattered from age, many from whatever skirmish had swept through the hall before Zelda’s arrival. Spare guardian parts littered the floor here and there, interspersed with the blood splotches and bodies and swords and crudely carved clubs.

About halfway down the hall her knight slowed to a stop. She turned toward him and tugged his arm a bit when he refused to move.

“What’s wrong?” She urged, her voice dropping in volume in fear at his actions. “We’re almost there.”

He pursed his lips, glancing between her and the ceiling. “I thought I heard something.”

Following his gaze, Zelda stared at the stone above. They were on the highest floor of the Citadel, but Zelda had no idea how many floors there were to begin with. Water dripped from small cracks in the stone and the thunder shook them more up here than it had below. Light flashed in Zelda’s eyes from the gaps made by the stone dislodging itselfs from the ceiling and walls. The small bits of citadel hit the floor with resounding clacks.

“I can’t hear anything but thunder.” She tugged on his arm again, desperate as he did not move still. “Let’s hurry, the Champions will only be able to hold back the beasts outside for—”

Zelda’s voice died as the walls shook without the accompanying thunder. Pulling his sword from its sheath her knight let go of her hand. Chips of stone rained down on them from the ceiling, followed by a thick glob of something smacking onto the ground in front of them. Her gut twisted as the mass writhed on the ground. It reminded her of the goop those doppelgangers had been sculpted from, the physical embodiment of Ganon’s corrupted power.

Thunder boomed once, then twice. The hall shook with each roar, more of Ganon’s power falling through the ceiling each time. After a few heartbeats everything came to a rest, the dust settling on the ground and the air growing still. It was silent as her knight held his breath, and she found herself doing the same as she braced.

The ceiling crashed down on top of them. Rain and stone pelted Zelda before an arm shoved her backwards. She stumbled, tripping over her feet and landing on her back. She choked out a gasp, and coughed out her lungs while she struggled to breathe.

A loud beeping filled the caved-in hall, growing louder and faster to match the heartbeats in Zelda’s ear. The beeping stopped and the wall to her left exploded.

Pushing herself up with a wheezing breath her eyes darted around the hall. They landed on her knight, his right arm limp at his side and sword gripped tightly in his left. A guardian unlike any Zelda had seen before towered tall above him. Its legs scraped against the walls as it moved, its head held well above where the ceiling once was.

Ganon’s corruption dripped from its form, clinging to the ground and walls like a parasite. Red and purple crawled up its legs and dug into the red eye that was fixed on her knight. The corruption pulsed, it was alive and mobile and oh so hungry. It spread across the guardian, filling the cracks and creases in its hull with throbbing veins and viscous hatred.

A clawed foot shot forward, grabbing at her knight’s sword. He ducked out of the way, the claw catching on the tips of his hair. He slashed up at the leg while he darted underneath it, carving a clean line straight through one of the joints and severing the foot from the machine. Ooze splashed out of the gash carved by the sacred blade, hitting the ground with a gurgling hiss.

The guardian filled to the brim with Ganon’s power had no opportunity to charge its beam as it recoiled, and it had no time to fire after as the Master Sword was jammed into its eye with a sickening crack. It reared back, flicking her knight off of it with one of its legs and sending him slamming into the wall.

The sword was still embedded in its eye, and her knight was weaponless.

Zelda’s eyes landed on her slate, sitting just out of arm's reach. Scrambling forward she wrapped her fingers around the handle of the slate and pulled it closer to her. She fumbled with the screen, wiping away the water that interfered with her inputs with her wrist. Her finger pressed down hard on the magnesis icon, and the screen locked onto the large metal door to the lab.

A horrible, head-splitting mechanical shriek echoed through the crumbling hall, halting Zelda’s hand on the slate. The guardian was thrashing around, trying in a desperate attempt to dislodge the sword from its head. It rammed into the wall just inches above where Zelda’s knight lay struggling to push himself up. The action only served to drive the sword deeper into its eye, pulling another deafening scream from the mechanical beast. The sludge spilled from its eye in fat globs, thick like molasses and heavy like liquid metal.

Her knight screamed a blood curdling scream as a glob of the writhing mass splattered onto his back. The mass throbbed and screamed in tandem with her knight, eating away at the fabric of his tunic and the chain of his mail. He convulsed, pushing himself over with a newfound strength onto his back. The malice smeared across the stone ground, a gorey trail left by her knight as he scraped the living corruption off himself with tears in his eyes.

His scream only seemed to drive the guardian into more of a blind rage. It veered away from her knight’s prone form, slamming into the opposite wall. Sparks and ooze splashed out from the impact alongside the Master Sword as it was sent skittering across the stone.

The guardian’s head spun around a beat later, locking onto where Zelda’s knight was on his back, chest rising horribly fast and malice viscera surrounding him. The eye leaked the corruption; it pulsed out of the cracked glass in throbbing waves, sliding down the face of the guardian and burning into its hull. The tell-tale sound of its beam charging bounced around Zelda’s head.

It was enough of a push for her to slam down on the magnesis rune once more, grabbing hold of the large metal doors of the lab. Putting her full weight into it she pulled against the slate, the door flying from its hinges. It smashed into the guardian and smashed through the wall beside it.

The guardian lurched back, its weight sending it over the edge of the hole carved clean into the Citadel wall. It scrambled, trying to find footing on the rain slick floor. It failed, teetering off the edge and crashing through the floors below them.

Silence, then relief. Zelda pushed herself to stand, letting out a shaky sigh. She winced, her back stinging from when she had fallen. Though she had it easier than her knight, who was attempting—and failing—to stand. He leaned fully against the wall, one hand pressed against it and the other hanging limp at his side. She made her way to him as quick as she could manage, wrapping his good arm around her shoulders.

“Thanks,” he muttered. He didn’t put his full weight on her as they stood, committed to carrying himself as best he could.

“How bad is it?” She pressed, refusing to take a single step until he answered.

“Fine."

The paleness of his face and the shaking of his hands told a different story. He was not fine.

Zelda picked up the Master Sword from where it had been flung, handing it over to her knight who struggled to sheath it. He managed after a bit, and Zelda began to lead them towards the lab one step at a time. It was slow going, but Zelda found she didn’t mind too much. Focusing on keeping her knight standing helped keep her focus away from the rain pelting her; away the giant hole created by the metal door and the dead soldiers she had to step around.

The flames by the doors had been completely snuffed, leaving the hall pitch black aside from the occasional flash of lightning. Zelda peeked her head inside the lab, disappointed to find that there was no one there. She sighed, but helped her knight into the empty lab anyway. It was cast in the same darkness as the hall, not even the furnace in the corner was illuminated.

The lab was in the same state as many of the others Zelda had visited: disorganized and cluttered. There was a large table in the center of the room, maps and schematics hidden under piles of guardian parts and tools. Papers littered the floors, making it impossible for Zelda and her knight not to step on at least one every other step in their effort to avoid tripping over the cables that snaked around the floors like intestines. There were multiple workbenches against the wall, all so utterly buried that there was no way to use them.

She lowered her knight down to sit on one of the wooden chairs near the center table. He grabbed his wrist and held his dislocated arm out straight in front of him, before pausing and looking pointedly at her.

Understanding right away, Zelda’s stomach turned and she looked away. A loud pop made her wince, but her knight made no further noise. She turned back to see him moving his arm around in small circles, pain still written across his face.

Now that he was seated Zelda was able to get a good look at his back, the sight making her stomach churn. His tunic and undershirt had been eaten away at, the skin underneath charred purple and pink.

It wasn't a normal burn. Burns didn’t look like that. Burns didn’t stain the skin purple and twitch like it was alive. There was nothing she could do about it, however, so she turned her attention back to his more manageable injuries.

“You’ll need a sling.” She gestured at his arm as he experimentally rolled his shoulder, stopping the motion halfway with a wince.

“Yeah,” he groaned a little.

“And potions.”

“And a nap,” he added with an exasperated sigh.

“And a nap,” she reaffirmed.

“And you?” Her knight looked her up and down.

Zelda looked down at herself, raising a hand to her back and as she rubbed it gently. “My back hurts from when I fell and I think my ear got burned a while back. It's not bad, it doesn’t hurt. I just want potions and something to eat.”

He hummed, a distant look in his half opened eyes. “Food would be nice.”

“A whole buffet, with cake too.”

“That sounds good.” Her knight leaned forward with a hiss, bringing his good arm up to the table and folding it under his head like a pillow. His face was buried in his arm, and the tension from his shoulders left if only for a little while.

She stood from where she had begun to crouch beside her knight. “A nap sounds nice, too.”

“Great minds and all,” he said, muffled in his sleeve.

Zelda let out a small laugh that was paired alongside a budding frown. This was the first time she had had anything even remotely resembling a casual conversation with her knight, and Zelda wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Perhaps casual was not the right word for it, given the circ*mstance, but it was something similar. Her knight had gotten close, that night in Zora’s Domain, but he had not said enough to her, she had not said enough to him.

She found herself a chair beside her knight, collapsing into it. She leaned her head back over the back of the chair, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe that was how it ended, Zelda’s last moments being spent actually conversing with the person she shared her fate with. Better late than never, she supposed.

It wasn’t the worst way to go out, either. She gave it her best shot, and it hadn’t worked out. She had banked too much on Robbie being alive, waiting patiently for her to arrive at the top of the Citadel. For him to push his goggles up with an evil-scientist grin and to pull her into helping him on one of his crazy inventions, something that would turn the tides.

It was wishful thinking, but it was all Zelda had. Now she had nothing. Nothing but the realization that this was where her life came to its end. The lynel would surely hear the commotion caused by the guardian and investigate, and with her knight out of commission it was just a waiting game. She and her knight would get their nap soon enough, but until then they were left to twiddle their thumbs.

“If we get out of this maybe you can help cook for the banquet.”

Her knight huffed out a laugh. “After I sleep for a hundred years, maybe.”

Zelda smiled, if her knight was more hung up about sleep than food then things were dire. “If you sleep for so long you’ll miss the cake.”

“Never much of a cake person.”

“Oh. Well it’s my favorite, so I’ll eat your piece for you.”

“I’m honored.”

The storage room door slamming open had them both jumping and turning in their seats. Zelda hovered over the bomb rune while her knight gripped his sword like a lifeline. A head that was very much Robbie’s stuck out of the door, and all the weight on Zelda’s shoulders vanished. She nearly cried in relief as she quickly shut off the slate, motioning for her knight to stand down as well.

Robbie’s eyes bugged out under his goggles as he set his sight on the two of them. The scientist was in front of Zelda in an instant, his hands on her shoulders. “Why are you here?”

“To look for you.”

“Why in the goddess’s name would you do that?”

“You sent a distress signal, what else was I supposed to do? Let you die?”

“Yes,” Robbie answered simply, letting go of Zelda’s shoulders and throwing his arms in the air. “Because now you’ve gone and gotten yourself killed too!”

“I haven’t died yet.”

“Yet being the keyword there.”

He made his way across the lab, pulling open a panel in the wall. Wires hung out precariously, but Robbie paid them no attention as he reached his hand inside, searching around for something. There was an audible click, and Robbie jerked his hand out of the panel as it sparked. Zelda winced and squinted her eyes when the lights in the lab flashed on all at once, dousing everything with a harsh blue glow. It took a second for the lights to dull down, the swirls of sheikah magic in the walls pulsing a more manageable blue.

Robbie slammed the panel closed, returning to Zelda. His eyes fell on her knight, and he hissed through his teeth. “That doesn’t look good.”

“Doesn’t feel good either,” her knight responded dryly. “Where’s the captain?”

“Went to go fight that lynel, shoved me in the closet before he left.” Robbie shrugged. “Either he’ll be back any minute or he’s dead.”

As if the gods themselves had been listening, in footsteps echoed through the top floor of the Citadel. All three heads turned to their sudden visitor, finding a burly man struggling for breath in the empty door frame.

“I heard a commotion, what…” The man’s words stopped in his throat as he stared at Zelda and her knight. He was dressed in sturdy armor slick with blood, his lack of helmet exposing his shocked eyes and short beard. Zelda wasn’t sure how old he was, sometime around her father’s age most likely. With his whitening hair and signs of wrinkles around his eyes she guessed he was around sixty.

“Ah, speak of the calamity,” Robbie waved at the man standing in the door, who wasn’t looking in Robbie’s direction in the slightest. “We were just talking about you, Captain.”

The captain responded by rushing past Robbie and ignoring Zelda to kneel beside her knight. His hands hovered shakily over her knight, as though afraid to touch him, and her knight only responded by reaching out and tapping his hand against the man’s.

“By the goddesses,” the captain breathed. “What in Farore’s name are you two doing here?”

“It would seem that the princess and her Champion are going on a little end of life as we know it tour. The Citadel is their first stop among many, though it may as well be their last.” Robbie spun a chair around on its leg, sitting down in it backwards so his arms rested against the back. “Considering you’re still up and groovin’ I take it that the lynel is dead?”

“Yes,” the captain answered with a snort nob, though his attention was trained on Zelda’s knight still. “But by the goddess there’s more pressing—”

“Captain Cyrin,” Robbie interrupted after clearing his throat. The captain turned to look at him, a deep urgency in his eyes. “The Champion isn’t on death’s door, relax. There’s medical supplies over on that workbench.”

The captain stood immediately, brushing past Zelda towards the workbench that Robbie had pointed dramatically towards. He threw everything off in a panic searching for potions and supplies, though Robbie really didn’t seem to mind the mess.

The scientist turned back to Zelda, co*cking his head to the side. “So, what’s the full story here, Zeldy?”

Lightning flashed from the gaping hole in the ceiling outside the lab. Only a few seconds passed before thunder shook Zelda’s heart. There were no windows in the lab to peer out of, just like the rest of the citadel. The anxiety bubbling on Zelda’s skin only grew the longer she went without word or sight on the situation outside. She half feared she would leave the Citadel, and find the Champions dead at her feet.

“We received a transmission that the Citadel was under attack,” she answered.

“Hmm?” Robbie raised a brow. “And you figured the best option was for you to come here yourself to sort everything out?”

“We knew the Citadel would fall without backup. The Champions and I deemed it would be in our best interest to offer any support we could.”

“Without any backup yourself?”

“Our backup is dead, Robbie.” Zelda whipped her head around to glare at the scientist before she bit her tongue; her words had come out harsher than she had meant. She took a deep breath to calm herself—tasting the blood on her tongue—and sighed. “The majority of the surviving soldiers are here, defending a dying citadel. If we fail here...”

She didn’t continue that sentence, she didn’t need to. Not when the air smelled of rain and metal. Not when blood neither belonging to her or her knight stained the bottom of Zelda’s dress from running past desperate corpses clinging to life. Not when the capital of their kingdom was reduced to ruins, her father’s bones among them.

Robbie stared at her through those bug-eyed goggles of his. He slumped down, his hands falling limp. “There’s no way for us to “succeed” here, Princess. We either live through this, or we don’t. The Citadel is as good as gone.”

“There are still people defending it,” the captain said in a tone that resounded through the air—his back still to the others. “If it’s as good as gone, why do they still fight?”

Robbie sighed, grabbing onto the back of the chair and leaning back. He was silent, then spoke. “Then what’s your plan, princess?” She was loath to admit, but she hadn’t gotten that far. When Zelda didn’t immediately respond he sighed again, shaking his head. “You have a plan, don’t you? I’ve known you for years, and you’re never hopeful if you don’t have an evil little plan festering in that head of yours.”

“I figured you would have one,” she admitted, a bit embarrassed. “Purah had mentioned a long time ago about a failsafe in the guardians and I . . . thought you would know about it.”

“A failsafe? You must be thinking of the towers. And I suppose that might . . . no. Though, maybe it could?” Robbie muttered before pushing his goggles up to his forehead. He stared up at the ceiling for a while in thought, long enough for the silence to itch under Zelda’s skin and irritate the anxiety already there.

She found her attention drawn to the approaching captain, his arms filled with disorganized medical supplies. He knelt beside Zelda’s knight, hands hovering over his back as he scrambled to sort through the supplies and potions. When the potion hit Zelda’s knight’s back he hissed through his teeth, and Zelda couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

The captain handed her knight a potion before tossing one of the empty bottles aside with no care. It clattered against the floor, but didn’t shatter. Her knight was extremely quiet given the circ*mstances.

Zelda couldn’t stomach watching the captain patch up her knight after he pulled out a needle and thread; just the thought of getting stitches made her muscles ache. She turned her full body away from the stitches, but kept her ears on it all. Her knight never said anything, or cursed, or cried out in pain. The most noise he made was a quiet hiss through his teeth or a sigh of relief. It was impressive in a way.

Zelda’s curiosity was pulled when the captain sighed, setting the needle and thread down to cup his face in his hands. “You can’t keep doing this to me,” he muttered to Zelda’s knight, running both his hands through his own thinning hair. “And you roped the Princess herself into your reckless schemes? What were you thinking?”

Reckless? Her knight had been anything but. It wouldn’t be right for her knight to be punished for behavior he hadn’t exhibited, so Zelda supposed she had better clear the record.

She cleared her throat, grabbing the captain’s attention. “Actually . . . it was me who insisted we come here. The Champion was just following orders and keeping me safe. He is of no fault.”

“You needn’t take the blame for this, Princess,” the captain brushed her off with a wave and a tired smile. “Link’s always been a reckless type, even if his intentions are good.” The captain lightly ruffled her knight’s hair as he spoke, earning a small huff from him in return.

Zelda found herself softening around the edges at how close the captain and her knight seemed. “You seem close. Have you two known each other for long?”

The captain blinked, then laughed heartily. “Known him since the day he was born, Princess! He is my son, afterall.”

...Oh. The bright blue eyes of the captain stared at her and goddesses above, they were identical to her knight’s eyes, weren’t they? The King had told her that her knight came from a lineage of knighthood, so why had she never stopped to wonder if his father was still alive, serving the same crown as him?

Now that she knew, she couldn’t help but notice the little things she had glossed over before. The way that her knight leaned into the captain’s touch just a bit. The way the captain handled her knight as if he were made of glass and seconds away from shattering. The way her knight had a faint smile plastered on his face every time the captain looked at him.

“I— I see,” Zelda stuttered to say when the captain—her knight’s father—had begun to look at her in concern during her stunned silence.

Satisfied with her response, Captain Cyrin went back to work with a roll on bandages and began wrapping her knight’s back as gently yet tightly as possible. “Was he too embarrassed of his old man to tell you about me? My poor heart,” he laughed, no real hurt in his voice.

“Ah no he’s just...” Zelda looked at her knight, who was pointedly not making eye contact with her. “Quiet.”

“Didn’t used to be! Kept me awake all night when he was a small thing, I’ll tell you what!”

Somehow Zelda didn’t believe it. Or rather, she just couldn’t possibly imagine the silent knight before her ever being considered loud.

When the captain was content with his handiwork he set the bandages down and leaned back. Her knight’s lower back had been completely wrapped up in potion soaked bandages, so much so that Zelda would be amazed if he could even bend over with them on.

“That should do it,” the captain hummed happily. He then looked over to Zelda, glancing her up and down. “Alright, tell me where it hurts, Princess. There’s a few potions left we can have you choke down.”

“Ah,” she held up her hand, shaking her head. “I’m just a little sore.”

The captain gestured to her ear, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously not. I might not be a trained nurse but I’ve patched my kids up enough times that I’m about as good as one.”

She frowned, bringing a hand to her ear and wincing as soon as her skin made contact. Trying her best to hide her pain Zelda shook her head, wiping the blood off her fingers and onto her dress. “I can hold off on medical attention until after Ganon’s army is stopped.”

The captain smiled at her sadly, holding out a potion for her to take. “I’m sorry, princess, but I cannot in good conscience let you keep running around while you are injured, even if it’s something small.”

“Listen to the captain,” Robbie said distantly, clearly stuck within his own head thinking about other things. “Impa would have all our heads if she knew you walked around while injured."

Before Zelda could insist she was fine for the second time the potion was in her hand and the captain was standing beside her, a potion of his own and bandages at the ready. She gave in with a sigh, tilting her head to the side so he could get a better look at it. She could see her knight staring at her out of the corner of her eye, but as soon as he noticed her looking at him he diverted his attention towards Robbie.

The captain’s hands brushed around her ear, careful to avoid agitating the injury. When the potion hit her skin she jumped, not realizing how deep the gash went.

“Sorry, it’s gonna sting a bit,” the captain apologized. “Good chunk got ripped off, might need stitches when everything calms down. But I ain’t no doctor, we’ll let one of them decide that.”

A chunk? “How– How much got taken off?”

“Just the tip, ‘bout half an inch or so.”

“It didn’t hurt that bad...”

The captain shrugged, carefully beginning to wrap her ear up. “Pain is as much mental as it is physical. Adrenaline can numb the senses, shut off the pain until everything catches back up. It only works within reason, of course. You aren’t going to be shrugging off anything too severe.”

“I see,” Zelda mumbled. She wondered how many times the knights in her guard had gotten injured and not noticed. How many times the Champions had fought to protect her unaware of the blood staining their champion’s garb. With the casualty the captain spoke Zelda was led to believe it was a common occurrence, so it had probably happened a few times without her knowing.

When the captain stepped back and set his hands on his hips Zelda raised a hand to her bandaged ear. Her fingers brushed against the thick fabric, getting slightly damp with potion in the process. “Thank you, captain.”

“Just Cyrin is fine, Princess. I retired years ago.” He waved her off before gesturing towards the potion still gripped in her hands. “That should help with any other aches and cuts, but if it doesn’t I have another one you can choke down.”

The first potion stung the back of her throat, but she refused the second and coughed away some of the bitterness that still stung her throat. The captain patted her shoulder sympathetically, taking the empty bottle from her and discarding it with the rest.

When the taste of potion faded from her tongue Zelda noticed Robbie staring at her, waiting. She made eye-contact with him and he hummed, spinning around in his chair to lean against the back and fold his arms under his head. “That theory of Purah’s . . . it could work.”

That grabbed Zelda’s attention immediately. She leaned forward, trying to contain her excitement. “Really?”

He nodded. “She hypothesized that if we could tap into a tower to send out commands we could control a mass amount of guardians all at once.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Hypothetically, I can send the order for the kill switch to activate, and the tower would send it to every single guardian within range.”

Hope swelled in Zelda’s chest, but she stomped it down in case. “The tower is under Ganon’s control right now.”

Robbie sat back up, red eyes no longer covered by thick lenses meeting Zelda’s own. “Give me ten minutes and it won’t be!”

“Has this been tested?”

“On a small scale. But it’s worth the gamble, don’t you think?”

Zelda jumped out of her seat, looking down at Robbie who was beaming like a mad-man. “Then what are we waiting for?”

The four of them were racing through the top floor of the Citadel minutes later, the room housing the tower in sight.

Zelda’s hands burned from the hot wires she had been gripping tightly like a lifeline as she had frantically followed Robbie’s instruction in re-wiring the tower. She smiled despite the pain. Grease and oil coated her arms and dress, but the fading storm washed some of it off as she stepped foot outside the Citadel.

The sounds of fighting still rang throughout the clearing, but the sounds of guardian beams and explosions had ceased entirely. Ruta’s cry made Zelda’s heart soar; it was a cry of victory.

Robbie stood beside her, admiring his handiwork as he experimentally kicked one of the deactivated guardians. The deactivation had only worked for a small radius around the Citadel, and all the machinery that had been used to override the tower had been fried beyond repair in the process. Even still, the shockwave of information had radiated from the tower, and one by one the guardians had begun to fall. Zelda and the others had rushed to one of the rooms with a window, watching with pure elation as three fourths of Ganon's attacking forces fell in an instant.

Skywatchers had fallen to the ground with enough force to keep them buried there for a long time and stalkers had tipped and swayed from the precarious positions they had frozen into. There was one still clinging to the outside of the Citadel walls, suspended fifty feet above the ground.

With the guardians out of the way the soldiers charged the rest of the beasts, falling lizalfos and bokolins alike easily.

Zelda cried openly, bringing a hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs of joy as her shoulders shook. An arm snaked around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. She looked up, meeting the beard-covered smile of Cyrin. His other arm was around her knight. “I’m proud of you, princess. You saved a lot of people.”

She broke down further, leaning into his side and burying her face into him. The four of them stood outside the Citadel’s entrance in silence—save for Zelda’s occasional hiccups and sobs—watching the last of Ganon’s army fall beneath blade and Beast.

Chapter 7: A Moment of Peace and Nightmares

Chapter Text

There was ash in Zelda’s lungs, ash that had once been living. Each particle floating in the air used to make up a person: someone’s friend, family, teacher, lover. With each breath more of the dead coated the inside of her throat. No matter how much she tried to cough and hack it away it wouldn’t leave.

The fire was warm. Even as she stood several steps away from the edge of the flames it still made her cheeks hot. It’d been only a few minutes since the bodies had been collected, piled up, and set aflame. Even still, the flames had devoured everything recognizable about the bodies, leaving unidentifiable heaps of charred mass in the heart of the fire.

Darkness had fallen across the Citadel, but the burning glow of the bonfire cast the center of the field in a midday light.

Her ear burned under its wrappings. The memory of the needle piercing her skin and the blade slicing away chunks of skin deemed unsalvageable burned even more. She had no idea how much of the tip of the ear she had actually lost, the nurses wouldn’t tell her and she wasn't allowed to remove the bandage herself. The potion on her throat was as warm as the burning bodies before her.

Zelda cleared her throat and licked her lips, ignoring the ash now on her tongue. She raised her hands, entwining her fingers together while her thumbs pressed flat against her chest. “Goddess Hylia, it is with a heavy heart we send to you these souls. The souls of parents, of children and siblings, who gave their lives to you to protect the lives of others. Who so—” She swallowed the lump in her throat that had only grown with each word and that threatened to choke her voice out. “Who so bravely served their kingdom until the very end.”

Impa stood beside her with her head bowed and her hands folded behind her back. The next part of the ceremony came to Zelda easily, despite her having never taken part in a burning ceremony before. It was one of the first ceremonies that she had memorized from a young age—it was one of the only ones her mother had been around to teach her.

She watched out of the corner of her eye the other soldiers gathered around the fire. Some had their hands on their weapon, others held onto a shield or bow. All their head’s were bowed and their eyes closed as they waited for her to continue.

“I ask of you, our divine Goddess, that these souls are given peace and prosperity when they enter your loving embrace. That they be given a new chance of life, a new chance for love and loss, for happiness and sadness. And I ask of you— I ask of you to send my deepest apologies to the souls we have sent you today. My apologies that I could not do more, as their Princess with the blood of the Goddess, to prevent their souls from leaving us so soon.”

When she fell silent, so too did the courtyard. Only the crackle of the flames echoed throughout the crowd of soldiers all standing to honor their fallen companions. Zelda didn’t know the names of any of the bodies, didn’t recognize any of the faces before the flames ate them away. Maybe her knight knew some of them, was friends with some of them. Or maybe some of them she had known, and had just forgotten about. Soldiers and knights that played with her when she was younger, who were stuck in her personal guard before being replaced by someone different.

But her knight wasn’t with her, and she had no recollection of any of the burned faces staring lifelessly at her. She was left looking into the eyes of people who had died under her name, under the name of her family and her kingdom, and yet she didn’t know any of theirs.

After what felt like hours Zelda let her hands drop to her sides. The soldiers and knights around her followed suit immediately, all standing to their full height as they turned back to cleaning up the mess of the battlefield. She took one last look over the bodies slowly becoming more and more charred before she turned her back to the flame and began to walk back towards the Citadel.

“That was a good speech, Zelds,” Impa said as she fell into step behind Zelda. She nudged Zelda’s hand with her own lightly in reassurance.

Zelda only hummed in response.

No one spoke to her as she cut through the weak crowds. Soldiers and wounded alike parted ways for her, bowing their heads until she had fully passed. The most she heard were muttered thank you’s and her title whispered in reverence—barely said loud enough to be heard over the night breeze.

They crossed the same bridge that Zelda had crossed with her knight just two hours prior. The guardian husk had been pulled from the doors, leaving a sizable hole for them to step through. Much to Zelda’s surprise no one inside the Citadel stopped them either. The guards stationed at the door bowed their heads as she passed, the soldiers and maids pressing against the walls to clear the halls for her to pass. She realized that part of it was likely to do with the blood and ash staining her skin and the exhaustion clear in her movements. Regardless, she was thankful to not have to stop to make small-talk.

She wandered the Citadel aimlessly, Impa there beside her every step of the way giving her more reassurance than Zelda thought she deserved. She wasn’t sure how long they wandered, passing praying civilians and ignoring the tears of joy and sorrow that painted their faces. Eventually two soldiers pulled her aside, speaking to her in concerned whispers and soft tones. They urged her to take one of the intact rooms in the barracks, and gave no room to argue—not that she had the energy to argue to begin with.

Without much fuss Zelda followed the two soldiers silently with Impa in tow. The Citadel halls felt different than they had just hours ago, when she and her knight raced through them, wary of each turn. The staircases felt suffocating the further down they went. Where the lab was at the summit of the stone structure, the barracks sat buried underground, the deepest point of the massive military post.

The air smelled of rust, moss, and dirt. Zelda felt like she was walking into a tomb where she would be laid to rest for eternity.

“Don’t die. Please don’t die.”

There was blood on her hands. Blood that splattered across her face and turned her white prayer dress a deep crimson. Her fingers slipped in the slick warmth as her hands furiously tried to knit what was broken back together. The irregular pulse beneath her hands grew slower, weaker, and her hands pushed down hard. She didn’t want to stop feeling that pulse, but it was becoming harder with each passing wheeze.

There was something in her eyes, a mixture of dirt and tears. She couldn’t see the blob of red and blue pressed against her, nestled in her lap and pressed against her chest. Her arms were wrapped around it, tightening their hold with each second. The blur of blood and blue was small, but not small enough for Zelda to carry. It gasped, and Zelda sobbed.

“Please,” she begged. She begged like she was about to lose everything, but she truly felt like she was.

It coughed and moved, wrapping a hand around her own.

“Please,” she cried. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

“—new . . . you could . . . do –t.”

“Don’t talk.” Her vision grew blurrier and she struggled to choke out her words. “Please please please, you have to live.”

“Live –for me.”

“Not without you. I won’t live without you.”

It laughed weakly. Zelda was positive it was crying.

The beating beneath her fingers stopped. She squeezed the hand that was cold around hers, and she screamed.

“You look awful, Zelds. Didn’t sleep?”

Zelda leaned against the door, struggling to keep her eyes open. It was Impa, not her knight or maids, who had knocked on Zelda’s door and woken her up. Not that she was sleeping to begin with. Sleep had come to her sparsely and shortly, only lasting a minute or two before she was bolting upright once more.

“Unfortunately not,” Zelda grumbled. She rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn behind pursed lips. “It seems to me that you didn’t either.”

Impa didn’t look much better than Zelda felt, looking more sleep-deprived and drained than Zelda had ever seen her. Her hair was down, tangled and frizzy and hanging long past her lower back. She was dressed for the day, though it looked as if she had gotten dressed in the dark and not bothered to straighten up afterwards.

With a sigh Impa slumped her shoulders, the traces of her faux peppiness gone. “That obvious, huh?”

“Oh, yes,” Zelda laughed. “Extremely.”

The empty halls behind Impa had Zelda wondering just what time it was, and it was impossible to tell with the walls completely barren of windows to look out of. The lack of windows upset her a bit, having been used to the larger than practical windows that lined nearly every wall of the castle. There had been one in her room that she had loved; a stained glass mural of the goddess that split down the middle, opening up to the small balcony where she kept various plant specimens that would otherwise clutter up her room.

She was used to being able to glance up and immediately tell what time of day it was. So she had no way of telling if Impa had simply woken her up before everyone else, or if she had battled with sleep for so long that everyone had cleared out of the barracks already.

“Impa, what time is it?”

“Only ten in the morning, I didn’t let you sleep in too long.” Impa smiled and stepped closer, putting a hand on Zelda’s shoulder before gently pushing her back towards her room. “But it’s also time for you to go get dressed for the day, sleepy-head. The captain’s are holding a meeting this afternoon but first Robbie wants us . . . to...” she trailed off suddenly. She stared at Zelda’s face, a concerned expression slowly worming its way past her exhaustion.

“...What is it?” Zelda asked when Impa remained silent, a hand still on her shoulder.

“Zelds, were you . . . crying?”

Blood on her hands, smeared against the cold handle of the darkness sealing sword.

Zelda took a shuddering breath, blinking away the burn of tears and vivid emotions that threatened to start up again. “I just . . . had a bad dream last night. That’s all.”

Without another word, Impa wrapped her arms tightly around Zelda, tucking Zelda’s head under her chin. Gladly Zelda returned her hug, squeezing back with enough force to get a little wheeze from the sheikah. Zelda wasn’t sure how long they stood there for, but she wasn’t about to pull away until Impa did, and Impa hadn’t so much as moved an inch.

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m always more than happy to listen,” Impa whispered quietly into Zelda’s ear, ensuring her words did not echo through the halls.

“No, not really.” Zelda’s words were muffled in Impa’s collar.

“We don’t have to go see Robbie if you would rather do something more relaxing.”

“No, no, I think seeing Robbie will help. I need something to distract me.”

“That bad, huh?” Impa laughed, rubbing her thumb in circles on Zelda’s back. “Well, Robbie is the expert at distractions.”

Zelda hummed in agreement. She tried to hide her disappointment as Impa began to draw away from her. She must not have done a very good job, because Impa gave her an apologetic smile, reaching up to ruffle Zelda’s hair before stepping back completely. “Sorry, princess. My ribs were getting sore from your bear grip. Maybe your knight will let you crush him to death in a hug if you ask nicely enough. Duty sworn to follow your word and all that.”

At the mention of her knight, Zelda’s stomach flipped. She swallowed her sudden nausea. “Speaking of, do you . . . know where—”

Blue eyes staring lifelessly up at her; the melodic chime of an ancient spirit.

“Where your guard dog is?” Impa finished her sentence for her. “I had to fight him back into the sick ward with a mop this morning. Last I saw, Captain Cyrin was making sure he stayed put, so he should still be there. Why? Are you worried about him?”

Zelda knit her hands behind her back, trying to hide the way they shook. “I was just curious.”

Impa raised her eyebrows, a grin growing across her face. “Oh? Starting to actually like your newest guard? I was under the impression you didn’t like him, especially after he pulled the you-know-what. ”

“Oh please,” Zelda scoffed. “I don’t dislike him.”

“Mmhmm, right. Then what’s his name?”

“...It’s Link?” Zelda answered, confused. Of course she knew her knight’s name. She remembered nearly all of her previous knight’s names, why would her current one be any different?

Impa gave her a look before shrugging it off completely. “Enough of him, though. Now, if the princess’s beauty sleep permits it she should get dressed and join me on an adventure to the labs.”

Zelda shook her knight and her nightmares from her thoughts. She smiled, puffing out her chest a bit and squaring back her shoulders. “I think her royal highness might be able to fit it in between her hourly naps.”

“Ah, so we must make haste,” Impa replied in her most snobby imitation of a noble’s accent. She bowed her head, sweeping her arm out in an exaggerated motion. “Please do try to hurry, your esteemed royal greatness.”

“It’s esteemed royal greatness supreme and I do ask that you get it right next time.” Zelda shut the door with a dramatic slam after her words, failing to hold back a laugh as Impa’s own wheezes of laughter echoed through the door.

It only took a few minutes for her esteemed royal greatness supreme to slip out of her borrowed pajamas and into the clothes the maids had gifted to her. They weren’t anything special to write home about, just a loose-fitting white button up and scratchy brown pants. The boots were nice though, worn with age and nearly falling apart at the seams. But they were comfortable and better than sandals.

Impa wasted no time at all rushing them along after Zelda stepped out of her room. She grabbed onto Zelda’s hand and quickly pulled her away from the doorway, giving Zelda just enough time to close the door behind her. The rest of the Citadel mirrored the hollow halls of the barracks. It was empty compared to the night before, the only souls still lingering around being the sick and the injured.

They passed the sick ward without much pause, but Zelda found her eyes lingering on the cracked open door. The coughs and whines of pain rang through her ears, and the knights sitting guard outside seemed just as affected by it as she was. With each cough one of the knights winced sympathetically, eyes darted to the door before snapping back forward as quickly as they had strayed.

Mipha was most likely in there, along with her knight. Zelda could only hope that the zora Champion would remember to rest up and take breaks, but knowing the kind-hearted princess, Zelda knew that was wishful thinking. She would have to make sure to have someone force Mipha to take a break, or do it herself if she could find the time.

“So, what do you think of the Champions from the future?” Impa’s sudden question drew Zelda’s eyes away from the sick ward, and she grew embarrassed at realizing just how long she had stared at it.

“I’m . . . not sure yet.” When Impa frowned at her response Zelda hastily added, “But they’re nice! They’re good people.”

“They are. You seemed to get along well with Yunobo,” Impa added.

“Yeah, he’s kind hearted. He reminds me of Mipha, soft-spoken and a bit reserved.”

“If he reminds you of Mipha then Riju reminds me of Revalli. She has a snark to her like he does.”

Zelda laughed, shaking her head a bit. “She’s not arrogant, though. And I haven’t seen her challenge anyone to an archery contest because they looked at her funny.”

“Ah, that’s true,” Impa laughed in return.

“She reminds me more of you, actually,” Zelda said, lightly bumping against Impa’s arm. “Strong, capable but uncertain, teasing those she’s close with endlessly, excitable about the things she cares about.”

“Oh?” Impa raised her eyebrows, amused. “What do I get excited about?”

“When you talk about your sister, or me.”

“...Good to know my love of the two people dearest to me is as strong as Riju’s love of her seal.”

“Oh I never said that. I think Riju loves that seal more than the Goddess herself.”

The two of them stepped into a hall without its roof, the light of day glaring down harshly at them through the sizable hole. The sun was high in the sky but bathed in the same blood-red as the day before. Zelda squinted against the harsh light, shielding her eyes with a hand. The cleanup had been quick. Not a single body was left lying in the halls, every last one having been rounded up and set aflame. Though even with all the bodies disposed of there were still dozens of knights hard at work in clearing away the remaining debris from the halls and battlefield.

“So Robbie wants to see us?” Zelda asked, waving to a soldier she saw out of the corner of her vision.

Impa hummed in agreement, sidestepping a hunched over knight who was attempting to lift a slab of stone from the rubble. “He was very specific about it too, just wanted the two of us. No Champions, no sheikah, and no knights.”

“Is it something to do with the little guardian?”

After meeting back up with Impa after the battle had calmed down Zelda had been mortified to realize the little guardian was no longer in Impa’s care. Impa had been quick to reassure her that Robbie had taken it out of her hands, rambling off a thousand excuses before retreating back into his lab.

No one had seen Robbie since, and if it had been anyone else it would’ve been disconcerting. But Robbie was known to seclude himself in his lab for days or even weeks on end once he had a project he was fully immersed in. Zelda was left wondering just what project he was conducting while the little guardian was in his care.

Impa shrugged, “Beats me. He was awfully excited about something, and you know how both he and my sister get when they’re excited. Can’t understand a word they say.”

They were standing outside the lab before Zelda even realized they had made it to the top floor. The hole in the ceiling was still there, though the malice that had splattered the walls was gone. Instead there was a pool of water at Zelda’s feet that made her thankful that she had boots. The door was back in its place, though it barely seemed to be hanging on by its hinges. It looked seconds away from clattering to the soaked floor, but somehow it stayed in place.

Tentatively, Impa stepped forward, knocking on the metal. They both stared at the door, waiting for it to fall on them, but it only swung open with a slam, revealing a scraggly Robbie staring at them behind his bug-eyed goggles. He grabbed onto Impa’s arm, dragging the two startled women into his lab before slamming the door shut.

“Quickly now, quickly now, before I run out of energy and pass out mid-sentence.”

He seemed to be just as sleep deprived as the two of them, but his eyes were filled with a wild energy that neither Impa or Zelda could even hope to match. The lab was in much the same state as before, wires and metals strewn about carelessly. There was a new mess in the corner, near the lit furnace. It was a bird’s nest of wires, the little guardian tangled in them helplessly.

Robbie let the two go beside the table—which had been swept clean, the earlier mess cluttering it now residing on the floor. Taking in his frantic stumbling across the lab and his disregard of them, Impa and Zelda both chose to take a seat and wait for the scientist to gather his thoughts. They didn’t have to wait long, as Robbie came stumbling back with a pile of papers in his arms.

He threw them down onto the table, already making a mess of things. He gave no pause or word before turning back around and ripping the little guardian from its blanket of wires and electricity. It twitched in his arms, its eye flickering to life as it was set on the table infront of Zelda.

Upon fully waking up it toppled over its own legs in excitement, scurrying forward into Zelda’s arms. She laughed, bringing it closer to her chest. It whistled happily in return, growing silent soon after.

“Seems like it missed you,” Impa beamed.

“Well I missed it too,” Zelda said more to the little guardian than to Impa. She tilted her head down to look at the content little guardian. “I hope Robbie didn’t dig around in your wires too much.”

Robbie threw himself down onto a rickety stool, slumping against the table. “Gotta get your hands dirty if you wanna find solutions to our problems, Zeldy! Answers require some digging around.”

“And I assume that’s why you were so adamant about us visiting?” Impa leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand and her elbow on the table. There were papers trapped beneath her arm, crumpling up a little with her movements, but she didn’t pay it any mind. “You dug deep enough and found some answers?”

“That depends on the questions.”

The guardian hummed against Zelda’s chest, its eye fixed on her and her alone. She tightened her grip around it, letting it wrap a clawed foot around her fingers. “And what questions were you asking that had you kidnapping the little guardian to dig for answers, Robbie?” Zelda asked.

His eyes gleamed under his goggles. “I asked if our little guardian is more involved in current events than we think. Our new friends say they are from the future, one different than the one we’re heading towards, right? Well our little guardian friend traveled back in time to warn us about the approaching Calamity, did it not?”

“You think they’re connected,” Zelda pieced together with breathless gasp. “Whatever sent the little guardian back through time must be behind the New Champion’s appearance as well!”

“Or—” Robbie raised his finger, pointing it directly at the guardian— “our mechanical friend is behind it all.”

The little guardian whistled once in response, tilting its body to the side. Both Impa and Zelda remained silent, looking between themselves in slight confusion. They waited for Robbie to continue by his own accord, though he seemed more focused on sifting through the papers scattered across the table. He pulled one page from the mess, slapping it on top of the others and sliding it closer to where Impa and Zelda sat.

It was schematics to the little guardian, frantic and messy drawings of parts and wires labeled with nearly illegible writing. Looking back up, they were met with Robbie’s wide yet tired smile. He gestured to the little guardian once again, earning a beep of annoyance at his endless pointing.

“The little guardian functions almost the same as all the other guardians, a small piece of a whole as you will. Think of the guardians like a small spider web of minds, connected by threads weaving them all together, but all the threads eventually lead back to a singular point.” Robbie took a charcoal pencil into his hand, scribbling a mess of lines and dots on the back of a paper as he spoke. In the center of the mess was a large circle, all the lines connecting back to it.

“When the singular point says to activate, that message travels through each thread and tells every single mind connected to them to activate. But when a single mind on the thread is told to activate by an outside source, that message only affects that single mind, not the whole. The guardians can each function on their own, but any functions they are carrying out are overridden by the voice of the connecting mind.”

He leaned across the table, poking the little guardian with the charcoal pencil. The little guardian whistled a high pitched cry, swatting the pencil away.

“Our little guardian is part of that same web of threads,” he continued after leaning back. “That’s why it’s been able to hijack and take control of the deactivated guardians, it simply perused through the web to find the guardian it wished to reactivate. In fact, all of the shekiah tech is connected to this spider web. The slates, towers, shrines, Divine Beasts, and everything in-between.”

Zelda sat up, a small spark of understanding flashing in her mind. “That’s why you were able to shut the guardians down with the tower!”

Robbie nodded, matching her excitement. “Purah and I had hypothesized about the towers’ connection to the guardians for a while, but last night finally confirmed it.”

“Are the towers the singular point on the web?” Impa asked, looking between Zelda and Robbie a bit confused.

“No!” Robbie laughed, pushing aside the scribbled web he had drawn and pushing a torn notebook page into its place. It was notes on the towers, multiple lines of writing scratched out. He pointed the end of his pencil at the notes, leaning closer to the paper as he began to ramble excitedly. “The towers are the foundation of the web, acting as the transmitters that send all the information down the threads. The singular point sends information to the towers, and then the towers send that information to everything else. The range on the towers is limited, which is why they’re scattered all across Hyrule! Unless you leave the kingdom’s borders, you’ll be in-range of at least one of the towers.”

Zelda couldn’t contain her excitement, her thumb tapping against the little guardian as her brain hastily crammed everything Robbie had said neatly away into memory. That must be how the slates can communicate to each other long-range, sending messages to the towers to be relayed to a different slate. Purah had been racking her brain for months trying to figure out how the communication function on the slates worked, but with this new discovery she might finally have her answer.

Impa cut Zelda’s thoughts off with a small cough. “But . . . if the towers aren’t the singular controlling point that you’ve talked about, then what is? If Ganon took control of the main control point then how could the tower override his commands?”

“That’s the thing, he hasn’t taken control of the controlling point.” Robbie tapped his pencil against the table to enunciate his words. “He’s been infecting the guardians one by one, spreading his infection slowly throughout the web.”

“And what is the controlling point?” Zelda asked. “If Ganon hasn’t gotten control of it yet, he might not know about it.”

Zelda was expecting an answer, but all Robbie replied with was a shrug. “Oh, we have no idea what it is.”

“... What? ” Both Impa and Zelda said at the same time, causing Robbie to lean back a little.

“We don’t know!” He re-emphasized. “Purah and I have some theories but we have no way of testing any of them.”

“Alright, this is interesting and all and I’m sure we could talk about the towers and the webs and what-not for hours, but what does any of this have to do with the little guardian?” Impa cut in before Zelda’s thoughts could wander further and Robbie could speak again.

Robbie turned away immediately, walking over to a low table near the lit furnace. He pushed some things around, creating even more mess than before. A small round core sat in the palm of his hand when he turned back toward them.

He handed it to Zelda, who took it in confusion and intrigue. It was cold in her hand, weighing no more than an apple. It looked near identical to a guardian energy core; a soft yellow glow pulsated from it.

“That’s a memory core, found in every guardian Purah and I have had the privilege to pull apart so far.” He pointed his pencil at the core in Zelda’s hand as he spoke. “They store things like commands, damage assessments, energy levels; all of it cataloged neatly with exact times and dates. While we haven’t been able to decipher everything stored in the cores, we’ve managed to pick out most of what it means. What you’re holding now is the little guardian’s old memory core. I switched it out for a clean one late last night and have been digging through it all day today.

“There were a few things I noticed in my digging.” He leaned back onto his heels, tilting his chin to the sky harshly and throwing his arm straight above his head. He flourished his hand at the wrist, snapping it into a pointed gesture with his index raised. “One! In addition to being connected to the Sheikah Technology Connected Web— name pending —” he whispered that last part under his breath— “out little guardian has connections to something outside of it. There’s a separate spider web of connections, and our little friend is tangled all up in it.

“Two!” He moved his arm down, stretching it out at his side and snapping his fingers into a v shape. “The little guardian sent out a signal to this mysterious Outside Web at approximately 5:32 in the afternoon two days ago. This aligns with the time our friends from the alternative future were spit out from the sky and into the Divine Beasts.

“And three!” He stretched his arm across his body to the other side, sticking his thumb out without any fancy flourishes. “The little guardian received a signal at 7:18 yesterday morning that looked identical to the signal it had sent two days prior. This signal traces back to the same Outside Web that the little guardian is tied to.”

When he dropped his arm and relaxed his posture Impa took that as her cue to speak. Her face was scrunched in thought, her chin held in her hand. “An Outside Web? Is it similar to the one that the guardians and towers are connected to? Maybe there’s a whole separate army of sheikah technology connected to this Outside Web, and we’re just not aware of it?”

“I would propose a different theory.” Robbie stepped towards the table again, putting his elbows on the top and leaning his weight against his arms. “My working hypothesis is that this Outside Web that our mechanical friend is connected to is the same as the Sheikah Technology Connected Web, just one hundred years in the future. Somehow, this little guardian has the ability to connect to Webs outside of our own present, including times that never came to pass, or never will come to pass.”

Alternate times, future and past. It all made Zelda’s mind jump to the musty pages and ripped spines of her childhood books. Stories of heroes and princesses. Stories of a Hero who bent time using a magical instrument, splitting time into three paths. Stories of a guardian of time who grew tainted by sin, who broke time into pieces to get something as simple as love. Stories of stones that could turn back the clock, and keep bubbles of life alive in the wasteland their home had become in their death.

Zelda found herself pushing her fairytales aside, focusing on something Robbie had said. She frowned, staring down at the guardian who had since turned its attention towards glaring at Robbie, daring him to poke it again. She looked back up to Robbie. “The little guardian received a signal?”

Robbie snapped his fingers, pointing at Zelda. “Right on the rupees.”

“So...” Zelda started slowly. She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she desperately tried to sort her jumbled thoughts into actual words. “Did it send something from our time into theirs? Or did it pull something else into our time from theirs?”

“There’s no way for us to be certain right now,” Robbie admitted. He gazed at the little guardian almost longingly, before shaking his head. “Preferably I would tear the little thing apart screw by screw until I figured out how it worked, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t be too fond of that, Zeldy.”

The guardian beeped loudly, turning to hide its eye in Zelda’s chest. She wrapped her arms around it tighter. “Not particularly.”

Robbie shrugged his hands. “Then we’re at an impasse. Without knowing how the little guardian works, we won’t know what signals it's sending and receiving. So for the time being it might be best to just forget about it.”

Impa scoffed, shooting Robbie an incredulous look. “Forget about it? Something from their ruined future could’ve been pulled into our time, and it could be wandering around as we speak.”

“You’re assuming that whatever it brought here—if it brought anything here at all—is malicious.”

“Robbie, their Hyrule is in shambles,” Impa said tensely. “The New Champions speak of broken kingdoms and fight guardians like second nature. If something from their land ended up here we can’t be certain it will be as kind as they are.”

“Can’t be any worse than what we’re dealing with right now,” he answered with a shrug, brushing it off. “But if you’re really worried then bring it up with our Calamity friends, they might be able to give us insight on what exactly we should be keeping our eyes peeled for.”

“And what if someone or something from our time got pulled into theirs? Then what?”

“Then they’ll have to be on their own for the time being, Impa,” Robbie sighed. “We have much bigger issues at the moment.”

It seemed like Zelda was being constantly reminded of the harrowing future their new friend’s hailed from. A kingdom in ruin, the throne left empty and tossed aside. A people without hope, living under the veil of the Calamity for a century. The New Champions, they had only known four years of life free of fear and malice and now they were thrown right back into it.

“What do you think happened?” Zelda asked after Impa and Robbie had grown silent, their attention fixed anywhere but each other. When both sets of eyes turned to her she continued. “To me, to Link, to the Champions of their time? What happened to the people who swore to protect Hyrule and its people?”

“Well I was under the impression that they died, Zeldy.”

Impa shot Robbie a glare, softening when she set a hand on Zelda’s shoulder. “Why are you thinking about things like this? You know the answer will only upset you.”

Zelda sighed, not meeting Impa’s eyes. “I know, I just . . . feel bad about it all. About asking the New Champions to put their lives on the line to save a Hyrule that isn’t even theirs when we hardly know anything about their Hyrule to begin with.”

Robbie hummed from across the table. He had taken a seat once again, sitting sideways in it with his arm draped across the back and his leg folded beneath him. “I don’t see any reason why they would fight for us if they didn’t want to, Princess. If they want to risk their lives fighting for our future, that’s on them.”

“But why would they fight by my side when I failed them before?” Zelda blurted; Impa and Robbie stared at her in stunned silence. Her posture caved in on itself, and she slumped down to cradle the little guardian in her lap. “They grew up with stories of the princess who couldn’t save them, who left them all to die. Their Hyrule is a wasteland because I wasn’t strong enough, and who’s to say I won’t fail them again?”

“That wasn’t you,” Impa was quick to say, her hold on Zelda’s shoulder growing tighter. Her expression was steeled, but her eyes were sad. “That was a Zelda who had to bear the weight of the world on her shoulders alone. You aren’t alone in this. That Zelda didn’t have the little guardian, or our friends from the future. You do.”

Impa stood then from her chair, crouching down to look Zelda in the eyes. She cupped either side of Zelda’s face in her hands, gently tilting her head up. The calluses on her fingers and palms were rough against Zelda’s cheeks, the sheikah’s hands much colder than she had expected. Still, Zelda let Impa hold her face as she bit her tongue to hold back the scratchy feeling of tears building behind her throat and eyes.

“You are not guaranteed to fail, just because some alternate version of you failed already. We don’t know our future, but we do know it will not be identical to theirs. We still have hope.”

“Then I stand as a reminder of the hope they never got.”

“Like Robbie said, Zelda, why would these four risk their lives to fight for this hope if they despised it? They pledged their allegiance to Hyrule and you still doubt if they are loyal to you? To our future? Why would they rejoice at seeing you safe and alive if they cursed the very ground you walked on as you believe they do? These four have been nothing but honest and loyal and kind since the moment they arrived.” Impa drew back, her fingers barely tracing down Zelda’s face as her hands dropped to her side. “Talk to them about this. I can be beside you when you do if that would help, but trust me when I say that they don’t hate you, or blame you for anything.”

A ghost of a touch still lingered on Zelda’s skin, and she found herself rubbing it away. “Okay.”

Zelda had no intention of holding true to that promise. She knew they were kind, and were not vengeful towards her, but she could not bear confronting them about the failures of their Zelda.

“Actually Zeldy, you raise a very interesting question.”

Zelda turned, peering around Impa to find that Robbie had rotated around in his seat. His legs were crossed and his chin was in his hand. Noticing Zelda looking at him, Robbie met her eyes, only to break that contact when Impa cleared her throat and drew his attention to her. Her hands were on her hips.

“That being?” She asked, her tone venomous.

The scientist waved the hand not under his chin dismissively with a small hum. “Her question about their heroes. What happened to the Zelda and Link of that past. While it hasn’t been explicitly stated, we can figure that the Champions all perished within their Divine Beasts on the initial rise of the Calamity. But what of the two fated to face the beast directly?”

“...They failed. You said it yourself,” Impa said, confusion on her face. “Why else would the Calamity have raged over Hyrule for a hundred years had they succeeded?”

“Then who slayed the beast?”

That was true. If everyone had perished in the rising of the Calamity, yet the New Champions spoke of Ganon’s demise “four years ago,” then who was responsible? Who or what had triumphed where all else had failed?

“I—” Impa huffed, her arms dropping to her sides in exasperation. “Maybe they did survive, and two shriveled hags poked Ganon to death with their canes. I don’t know.”

“Perhaps . . . the old stories of the heroes could hold the answer,” Zelda said with a little hesitation, still unsure of her own idea. “There are some fables that say the hero and princess are reincarnated each time they’re needed. So maybe there’s...”

“A different Link and Zelda? A new princess with the blood of the Goddess, and a new wielder of the Sword that Seals the Darkness?” Impa stopped to mull over the idea, before she shook her head dismissively. “Zelds, those are just stories.”

“Stories and fables all have some bit of truth to them, no matter how small.”

“Hmm, I’ll need to research this topic further when the time permits.” Robbie interrupted. He nodded his head towards the door behind Zelda. “Right now, however, it appears that we have ourselves a visitor.”

The maid in the doorway jumped when both Zelda and Impa stared back at her simultaneously. She was younger, perhaps around Zelda’s age. The maid seemed wary of entering the lab, her toes barely crossing the doorframe.

“Excuse me,” she bowed her head deeply, her bangs hanging down to cover her face from sight completely. “I was told to remind you that the Captain’s will be holding their meeting in twenty minutes.”

Right, that.

“Ah yes,” Zelda called, bowing her head slightly in return. “Thank you. Please let the Captains know we will be there.”

The maid bowed even lower—if that was possible—and placed her hands on her knees. “Of course, Your Grace.”

With that the maid turned, and the lab remained silent in her wake. Zelda ran a hand through her hair, sighing through her nose. With the Captain’s meeting would come formalities and customs, a crown to uphold and a knight to her back.

“Well, it seems our business for the day has concluded,” Robbie said suddenly and light-heartedly with a loud clap. He leaned back, one hand gripping the edge of the table and supporting his weight, the other dangled at his side. “Go dance around the Citadel before you’re needed, you two. I am off to make myself presentable for the formal shindig.”

Impa grabbed onto Zelda’s arm, pulling her from her seat. The little guardian remained gripped tightly in Zelda’s arms, not complaining about being lifted.

Impa led Zelda towards the door before pausing. She turned her head over her shoulder, “Robbie,” she said, “if you hear word from Purah—”

“You will be the first to know, Rabbit.”

“Thanks, Goggles.”

Nothing else was said as Impa and Zelda left the lab to return to the corridors. There were a few more people around than when they had first entered; a few maids running around and civilians wandering aimlessly. After a few minutes Zelda pulled her arm away from Impa’s grip, which she let go of rather quickly. Neither of them changed their pace, Zelda just a single step behind Impa the whole way down, a single stair above.

“Still no word from Purah?” Zelda decided to ask when the halls became too repetitive for her to tell apart, and the guardian in her arms grew restless.

Impa hummed, not looking back. “The last she was heard from, she was heading towards her small lab in Hateno. Robbie has already sent her instructions on how he shut down the guardians around the Citadel, if it were to come to that.”

“But if we can’t reach her in Hateno, how could she receive the instructions?”

“...I don’t know.” Impa sighed, finally turning back to meet Zelda’s eyes. “Let’s not bring ourselves down right now. We have some time before the Captains want to meet, so let’s just . . . take a breather. Yeah? Let's change our wrappings and pester one of the kitchen maids for some leftover fruitcake. Or even just some warm soup.”

Zelda smiled, Impa was trying her best to keep her in good spirits. She might as well go along with it, and make sure she did the same for her friend.

“That sounds wonderful.”

Chapter 8: Not So Different

Chapter Text

The weight of the slate on Zelda’s chest was comforting and suffocating at the same time. It wasn’t heavy enough to hurt, just weighing enough to provide a small pressure just below her collar bone. It reminded her of a nurse’s hand resting against her forehead searching for a fever. It was heavy enough to make sitting up seem impossible; the final piece of straw that broke the proverbial donkey’s back. That small weight made all her earlier exhaustion feel pitiful in comparison and she wished for nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep for eternity if Hylia would allow.

The blank screen was warm to the touch after being pressed against her skin for so long. Not that Zelda minded much, the small bedroom was already much too cold for comfort. A thick hand-made quilt and more sheets than Zelda could count sat neatly folded at the very end of the narrow bed she called her own, but the prospect of having to sit up and arrange them overtop her sounded exhausting. So Zelda settled with using them as a footrest.

She tilted her head up enough for her chin to rest against her collar bones. The slate remained dormant as she stared down at it through half-lidded eyes waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, she sighed and leaned her head back onto the flat pillows beneath her. She’d been repeating the same song and dance for quite literally hours; waiting for something, anything to happen.

Waiting for what, exactly, Zelda hadn’t the faintest clue.

She hadn’t heard anything more about . . . well about anything since the Captain’s meeting all those hours ago. Arriving in the clothes the maids had given her had put Zelda in a position she had never been in before in all her years. She had been underdressed, horrifyingly so.

The Champions had all arrived rested and groomed in their signature blue, save for her knight, who wore an oversized royal guards uniform. It was clearly not his, she had seen him wear a fitted one at the ball her father had hosted just two months ago—the ball to celebrate his pulling of the sword fittingly enough. The New Champions didn’t have much in terms of fancy apparel, but they had at least had the decency to clean up and wash before attending such a meeting. Unlike Zelda, who looked as if she had rolled out of bed and landed in her chair at the table.

Seeing her knight standing beside her chair, looking as if he hadn’t been injured severely just a day prior, shocked Zelda for some reason. She had found she couldn’t look at him for long, whether out of desire to not look like a creeper or his dead eyes that were still burned in her thoughts. Thankfully she had little reason to look at him once the meeting had begun, and her attention was drawn to the other people in attendance.

Impa and Robbie had sat beside each other on her left, draped in robes of deep blue and crimson accents. There were white masks covering their faces, Impa’s branded with the signature eye of the clan, a symbol of her status as the next in line leader. Both had a sash of golden fabric loosely wrapped around their shoulders, signifying their loyalty to the crown.

The knights all had worn the same uniform as Zelda’s own knight, those silly hats and white boots scattered around the large table. The soldiers’ uniforms were near identical to the knights’, a crimson color instead of blue and missing the stupid hats that Zelda used to laugh about as a child. The captains stood out to her more, however. They were all dressed in their pristine white uniforms, ones saved for important ceremonies only.

Important ceremonies, like a funeral for a fellow captain. Of the four captains, three sat at the table. During the two hours the meeting had lasted, Captain Mazon had never arrived to fill the empty seat.

The minute of silence in his honor still sat heavy in Zelda’s throat. She had been unable to speak throughout the entire meeting, sitting at the head of the table while discussions of casualties and sickness filled the repurposed dining hall. She had carried her silence out of the meeting with her, and was still gripping it tightly. Not a word had passed her lips in hours.

Sleeping had done her no good, and she had given up returning to bed. Each time she closed her eyes, desperate to get some rest, dreams would plague her still. The nightmare from before was absent—thankfully—but the newest one terrified her in different ways. The screams of Ganon filled her nightmare, the bodies of the Champions all limp beneath the twisted forms of Ganon’s blights. Her father, impaled on a guardian leg, screaming curses at her with the still-moving mouth on a long-dead man.

No, she couldn’t bring herself to return to bed. Instead she laid on the tops of the sheets in silence, ignoring the occasional knocks on her door. Most of the time it was a maid, who would let themselves in regardless of if she answered and set clothes or food on the table before scurrying off. Once it had been Impa, wishing her a goodnight and letting Zelda know that her door was open if she needed an in-promptu sleepover. Zelda didn’t want to keep Impa awake all night, so she pretended to be asleep until Impa had left.

Not once did the slate chime with word from Purah, telling Zelda that Ganon had magically disappeared while Zelda was locking herself away from all the fighting. Not once did any of the captains come to her door, laying out their plans to face off against Ganon’s army and seize the victory.

When the meeting hadn’t focused on mourning the many lives they had lost it had focused on talk of Ganon’s troops. Impa’s scouts had reported that a large amount of Ganon’s army had retreated from the Citadel after the fall of the guardians, and that the biggest and most threatening of Ganon’s army sat idle in the Jia Highlands. The rest of Ganon’s forces were spread across Hyrule, and there was really nothing that could be done about it. Hyrule’s people were too few in numbers to seperate, and the conversation had quickly changed from “how do we stop Ganon” to “how do we survive against Ganon?”

A very morbid line of thinking.

Though, if there was one thing Zelda had taken away from the meeting, it was that there was nothing to be done—at least on Zelda’s part. Everything being done by the sheikah and the zora and the soldiers was just preparation. Preparation for things that could potentially happen. Zelda had prepared her entire life for this single moment, and that had gotten her nowhere. She could slip back into her newly cleaned prayer dress and pray to Hylia, she supposed. The idea made her stomach turn and her eyes burn.

A knock on her door pulled Zelda’s eyes open. She couldn’t remember when she had closed them, but it made no difference open or not in the darkness of her windowless room. Turning her head towards the door she could faintly see the shadows of a pair of feet peeking through the crack at the bottom. She frowned, a maid had knocked just an hour ago before switching out the untouched water pitcher on Zelda’s table for a fresh one. Surely they were not checking up on her again so soon?

Four more knocks echoed against the door when she remained quiet. It wasn’t as soft as the knocks from the maids, but not as loud as when Impa or a knight knocked. She bit her top lip in thought, staring at the door almost wishing she could see through it like glass. If it was Robbie she would want to speak with him about the little guardian sleeping beside her bed. Or about her theories about the future. Or about anything that didn’t directly involve Ganon. If it was one of the Captains, or even one of the Champions, she would want nothing more than to pretend to sleep until they left.

Two more knocks, quieter than the previous. “Princess?”

She sat up, dragging her legs over the side of her bed. She was careful not to wake the little guardian at her feet as she crept across the cold floor, wishing she had bothered to ask one of the maids for some socks. The candle light burned her eyes as she pushed the door open just a crack. Her room truly felt like a cave in the sharp contrast between it and the hall.

Her knight awkwardly cleared his throat as she stared at him in slight surprise, most of her body still hidden behind the door. She had thought she had recognized his voice, but through the door it had been hard to tell, and he was the last person she expected to knock.

The champion's tunic was absent, and for some reason that lightened the stone in Zelda’s gut. He was dressed in an oversized tunic and pants rolled up multiple times at the ankle, and Zelda had a slight suspicion he was wearing hand-me-downs from his father. There was something in his hands wrapped tightly in an old cloth.

“May I come in?”

She nodded once, stepping back from the door to give him room to push it open. He did so without much pause and shut the door behind him softly as he entered. They both stood facing each other in silence, Zelda not knowing where to look and her knight staring at the table cluttered with uneaten food and clean clothes. When neither of them made a move Zelda wrapped her arms around herself.

“What brings you here so late?” Her voice was rough, scratchy like she was sick. As soon as the words left her mouth she was hit with a sudden dryness in her throat. Her eyes fell on the pitcher of water sitting amongst the clutter of the table, but it would have to wait until after her knight had left.

“I wanted to apologize,” her knight all but whispered. He met her eyes, and didn’t leave them, but she could tell he wanted nothing more than to look anywhere else. There was shame in his eyes, for reasons Zelda couldn’t possibly figure.

“Apologize?” She cleared her throat, hoping to not sound like an old woman. “For what?”

“For dragging you into the Citadel with me. I put you in unnecessary danger.”

She stared at her knight, confused. “I think I remember those events very differently than you do. I was the one who dragged you into the Citadel to look for Robbie, not the other way around.”

He shook his head. “I selfishly led you into the Citadel before I knew you had your own reasons for entering. I’m sorry.”

“Selfishly?” Zelda searched her knight’s face, finding a wall across his expression. Just like normal. “What in the Goddess’s name are you—” His father. Right.

She sighed, gripping the fabric of her borrowed shirt—her knight’s shirt, the knight standing in front of her right that very second—in her cold hands. “Even if you had your own intentions for entering the Citadel, I had mine too. So . . . we’re even, I guess. I’m sorry for dragging you into the Citadel and you’re sorry for dragging me into the Citadel. It cancels out.”

He frowned. “But—”

“Look,” she interrupted before he could try to tell her she was wrong, “you forgive me, right?”

“Of course,” he answered quickly. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but Zelda cut in again before he could.

“And I forgive you. So that’s the end of that.”

“Still,” he finally looked away, finding a spot on the floor more interesting than her. “I should’ve communicated my intentions with you. Or done more to protect you.”

She laughed lightly through her nose. “There wasn’t much chance for communication last night, if you can remember. And I wasn’t in any more danger in the Citadel than I was outside of it. I barely got hurt, out of the two of us you took more of a beating...”

His scream echoing through the storm, his arm mangled, coated in blood .

Her eyes widened, and she let her arms drop at her sides. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

He stared at her for a while, trying to catch up with her rapid change of subject. He stretched his arm out, as if testing to see himself, before shrugging lightly. “Sore?”

“But your back...” She trailed off, not wanting to remember the malice burning away skin.

“Mipha.”

“Ah.”

Mipha wasn’t a goddess—even if she was as kind as one. She couldn’t heal something of that degree so quickly. It took small increments to heal severe wounds, Mipha had talked about it with Zelda long ago. If she healed too much at once, the body would reject her healing, and cause extreme pain in the individual. So her knight was lying, but he seemed . . . fine.

He held out the bundle of something towards her, bowing his head a bit. Zelda took it as a sign he was meaning to leave, so she let the bundle hang between them for a moment, her hands still at her side. When he looked back at her, confused, she cleared her throat and nodded her head towards the cluttered table.

“You know . . . we haven’t talked much . . . and I guess I— Well I suppose I could use the company. If you want to, that is.” She amended quickly. Her knight took his job too seriously, and she didn’t want him to misconstrue her words as an order. “You can say no.”

His face lit up for a fraction of a second, it was so quick Zelda barely even registered it. But it was gone as quickly as it came. He nodded once, pulling the mystery bundle back towards him. “I’d be honored.”

He’d be honored. Goddess, was her knight always so much of a dork? He sounded like one of the cranky old ministers that used words that had more letters than they could count to.

Not that her knight couldn’t count, Zelda actually had no idea if he could or not.

He nodded his head towards the table and when Zelda looked back at him, confused, he raised the bundle in his hands up. “May I?”

“Oh, sure.” She had no idea what he was asking.

He was the first to move from the entrance in all the time since he had entered Zelda’s room. He picked up a bowl of cold soup that a maid had left for Zelda nearly five hours ago and he set it on the floor against the wall. The other plates and bowls followed suit, forming a line of untouched food on Zelda’s floor.

He said nothing as he continued to clean off the small table. The wrapped package had been set down when Zelda hadn’t been looking, and she found herself drawn to it. As her knight carried the folded clothes from one of the chairs over to her bed, Zelda brushed her fingers against the fabric of the package. It was frayed and thin, like an old washing rag used for everything and anything. The small knot tied on the top came undone with a single tug. She couldn’t help the small frown that pulled on her lips as she stared at a single bread roll and half-used jar of jam.

“It’s wildberry,” her knight explained as Zelda picked the jar up in both hands. There was no label, and some of the jam had gotten on the outside of the lid making it sticky to the touch. Her knight placed a candle from her nightstand onto the table. Flicking a match across the wooden surface he held a small flame pinched between his fingers. “If you don’t want it I can sneak it back for a different flavor.”

“Sneak?”

Her knight’s eyes widened a fraction as he shook the match out, the candle dancing lazily with an orange glow. His eyes snapped down to the ground and he set his hand on the back of his neck, still not looking her in her eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do.”

“...I’m technically not allowed in the kitchens.”

“Why?” She so eloquently asked when the glass in her hand was empty.

“It’s a long story.”

Zelda huffed, pursing her lips to hide her smile as she poured herself a glass of water with the pitcher and glass her knight had so kindly left on the table in his cleaning spree. Her eyes lingered on the underwhelming food before her.

The roll was larger than she was used to, about the size of her hand. It didn’t look like anything fancy, nor fresh. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to cut into it, or spread the jam on it without a knife. Did her knight expect her to bite into it whole, dipping it in the jar of jam with each bite? That hardly seemed considerate to anyone who wished to use the jam after her.

As though reading her thoughts, her knight held a blunt knife out to her handle first. She raised her eyebrows, but took it from him.

He nodded his head toward the food against the wall. “It was with the pheasant. I forgot to grab one.”

“You? Forgot something? So the world really is ending.” The words slipped easier than Zelda wanted, and she quickly clamped her teeth down on her tongue. “Sorry.”

He laughed, and Zelda couldn’t help but stare. His laugh wasn’t loud, it could even be written off as an under the breath huff if not listening close enough. She half doubted it herself but the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes and the near soundless laugh confirmed it. He’d been her appointed knight for nearly four months, and she could not remember a time where she had heard him laugh before.

He’d joked around and laughed with her other guards before he pulled the sword, sure. She’d seen him in the corner of her vision more than once with knights laughing around him, a smile on his face.

He’d just . . . never been like that while standing beside her.

“It must be,” was his simple answer.

Her knight remained standing off to the side while Zelda sliced the bread directly on the table—an act that would have her nursemaids fainting from horror she was sure. The jam spread clumsily across the stale bread, pieces of it crumbling off and making a mess across the table.

When each slice was fully coated in a layer of jam Zelda wiped the knife on the rag and tightened the lid back on the jar. She didn’t raise a single slice to her lips, the hollow-ness of her stomach not pleased with the idea of attempting to fill it. She wasn’t even sure why she had gone as far to humor herself and prepare the bread in the first place. Perhaps it had been more to humor her knight, who was the only thing currently fighting off her suffocating thoughts for her.

A bit ironic, given the spiral she had gone down thanks to his stunt with the sword all those weeks ago.

Letting go of her grip on the knife Zelda made a quick decision. Turning to fully address her knight—an action that caught him off-guard—she stepped back to set herself down on the edge of her bed. “I’d like to know why the Chosen Hero is banned from the Citadel kitchen, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Her knight frowned, looking between her and the bread that remained on the table. “You’re stalling.”

“An astute observation.”

“You need to eat.”

“I don’t want to.”

He sighed, a distinct something on his face that Zelda couldn’t place. “What if . . . we make a deal?”

“Oh?” Zelda didn’t bother to hide her intrigue. “What sort of deal?”

“A trade.” Her knight grabbed the edges of the small table, slowly pushing it closer to the bed. He stopped before it could hit Zelda’s knees, giving her enough room to stand if need be. “A story for a meal.”

“I would hardly call stale bread and jam a meal.” She bit the tip of her tongue, searching his face to see how far she could push. “Pray tell, would the princess’s appointed knight sneak back into the kitchen to steal her a proper meal if she so kindly asked?”

“I’m afraid the princess’s appointed knight is off-duty at this moment.”

“Is he?” She laughed, raising her eyebrows in mock surprise. “Then who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

He stared down at her from the corner of his eye, that something knitted into his expression again. “Someone who is worried about her highness’s well-being and who broke many rules to check up on her.”

“...What sort of rules?”

“Curfew, sneaking out of the sick ward, breaking into the kitchens . . . among others.”

She found herself unable to keep eye contact with him, breaking away to stare at the food before her. A little bread couldn’t hurt, right? It would be better than the rich soups and meats they had piled up in her room throughout the day.

With an indigent grumble she grabbed one of the small slices. She met his eyes again and refused to leave them as she took as big a bite as she could. There was an unspoken challenge in her actions, as if daring him to deny that she had held up her end of the bargain.

Her moment of challenge backfired significantly the moment she realized she would then have to chew and swallow the frankly un-ladylike bite she had taken. Setting the bread down she covered her mouth with a hand and reached for water with the other. Her knight was of no help, looking over at her with a stupid amused expression as she struggled to choke down the mouthful of dry bread.

Heat washed across her face, and she turned away so she couldn’t see him in her peripheral. The jam was sweet and bitter, like biting into a plum that just wasn’t just quite ripe enough. It stung the back of her throat, but she found she enjoyed the flavor more than she had expected. Wildberry jam was never a favorite of hers. She could only wonder if her unintentional fast heightened the flavor, or if the fact it was a gift did.

She held her head up high triumphantly when she had finished washing it down. Her eyes narrowed when her knight let out a brief laugh and she turned back towards him. His lips sealed shut the moment he noticed her eyes on him.

“Well?” When confusion crossed his face she patted next to her on the bed. “I believe I’ve fulfilled my end of the deal. Now it’s time for you to do the same.”

They stared at each other in silence for a few heartbeats until her knight turned his back to her entirely. She started to voice her protest, but her words died on her tongue when he grabbed a stool from where it had been abandoned. He set it to her left, beside the table, before sitting down and facing her.

“I meant for you to sit beside me,” Zelda muttered. He didn’t respond beyond setting his hands in his lap.

It was . . . strange, interacting with him like this. He didn’t feel like her knight, and he didn’t act like it either. There was something about it all that had Zelda floundering around for a rope to pull her back to familiarity. And yet there was something so interesting about being thrown out into a sea of new, not knowing which way to swim. Her relationship with her knight wasn’t like any of her knights before, but she had grown accustomed to it, knowing that their relationship was purely delegated to being hero and princess. But the boy facing her, with a shirt that threatened to fall off his shoulders and the relaxed position, didn’t feel at all like a hero.

“I was stationed here when I was twelve,” He began. “I was a squire at the time. I caused a mess in the kitchen and have been banned from entering ever since.”

“...And?” Zelda prodded, leaning forward a little when her knight refused to elaborate. “What sort of mess are you referring to?”

“I believe our deal was a story for a meal.” He smiled at her, though it felt more teasing than anything, even if she was sure that wasn’t the case. “I wouldn’t call a single bite of stale bread and jam a proper meal.”

She huffed, “You know, I’m starting to miss my silent knight.”

“He’ll be back tomorrow, your highness.”

“...I was joking.”

His smile softened, and Goddess above save her, the hero was just a boy. “I was too.”

She took another bite, a much smaller and more manageable one. The jam tasted sweeter on the second bite, missing that sting of bitterness the first had. She almost missed the bitter edge to the flavor, but she always did have a sweet-tooth, so the sweetness certainly wasn’t un-appreciated by her. She wiped the edge of her mouth with her thumb, setting the bread back down on the table.

“Twelve is pretty young for a squire,” she remarked. Granted, her knight was much too young to be a knight as well. Her father had made an exception to the rules for the “Moblin Slayer,” however, making her knight one of the youngest in the kingdom. Even if her father hadn’t bent the rules to get Zelda a fresh-faced guard so that she would stop complaining about her old one, her knight drawing the infamous sword would’ve earned him a young knighthood anyway.

He shrugged, brushing it aside as if it didn’t really matter. “When your dad’s a Captain you get pushed along the path quicker.”

“I see,” she frowned a bit. It wasn’t like she was one to judge him by his age, they were the same age after all. But with the two of them, Mipha, Revali, Riju, and Sidon . . . Hyrule sure put a lot of weight on the shoulders of children. She cleared those thoughts from her mind. “Well? I ate some more, so I believe you have a deal to uphold.”

He rolled his eyes slightly—an action Zelda never would have expected to see out of her knight—before nodding. “During the first years of squiredom you’re sent to the Citadel for training. Squires are the first to get pawned off to any visiting nobles or captains.” Zelda found the bread in her hands again, and she took another bite without much thought. “You play handmaid during their stay, tending to their needs and acting as a messenger bird. My first year as a squire there was a nobleman who was visiting for a few weeks.”

“And you were their little handmaid?” Zelda reached for another slice of bread, her fingers brushing against the crumb covered rag. A slight irritation gnawed at her stomach. Just when she had actually started to get her appetite back she had already eaten everything her knight had brought her. Her eyes flicked to the wall of cold food, but the idea of slurping the thick film off the soups sent a disgusted shiver down her spine.

He nodded, his eyes following hers to the line of cold food against her wall. “On one of his final days at the Citadel he asked me to grab him something to eat. It was late into the night, everyone but the nightwatch and the noble was already asleep. So when I arrived at the kitchens there was no one there. I . . . took matters into my own hands, and nearly burned the entire Citadel to the ground.”

“But you’re a great cook!” She said, a bit more passionately than she had meant. It was one of the few things she really knew about him, and something that she was immensely fond of. Even if they had stayed distant forever, Zelda would’ve fought tooth and nail to keep him in her guard, if only to guarantee that she would get to eat something beside rations on her journeys. He’d even made her fried rice once when Zelda had voiced to Mipha that it sounded good.

“Now I am.” He ducked his head a little, rubbing the back of his neck—a habit Zelda was noticing. “My dad taught me how to cook after this happened, so that it wouldn’t happen again.”

She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face nor the laugh she let out. It only furthered his embarrassment and she marveled how the knight who’d only just begun to open up a day ago grew pink around the ears. She struggled to get her laughter under control, thrown into a whole new fit each time she glanced over to the beet red face of her knight.

He was covering most of his face with his hand, but she could still see the smile spread across his cheeks. When she finally calmed herself down she leaned back, laying on her bed with her legs still dangled over the side.

She felt like a child again, making friends with some noble’s kid and getting them to open up. A lot of them had been shy at first, being in the presence of a princess, but kids will be kids and within minutes she would have them running through the halls with her, ducking between the legs of startled knights and maids. Of course, they would always leave, and she would never see them again. If she did, it was when they were much older, much too old to be running through halls together.

She wondered if she had met her knight when they were kids. Would he have run through the halls with her?

“Your dad is nice,” she said when a comfortable silence had settled over them, and when the flicker of the candle made her eyelids heavy.

“He is,” her knight responded. The fondness in his voice was palpable.

“According to him you used to be a handful,” she teased, hoping to draw something out of him. His past, maybe? His friendship?

He laughed lightly, Zelda couldn’t see his face but she wondered if he was still red around the ears. “Yeah. Guess I grew out of it.”

“Is that a good thing?” Zelda leaned up a bit, propping herself up with her elbows beneath her.

“Maybe,” her knight was still smiling slightly. “I don’t talk as much, I know my captains appreciate that.”

“Well you’ve been pretty talkative tonight. I think that’s a good thing.”

He made a slight noise, neither agreeing or disagreeing.

Curiosity sat in the back of her throat, crawling its way up. When he didn’t respond any further Zelda gave in to it. “So, what made the Silent Knight break his titular silence for the night? For me?”

“I thought you wanted company?”

“I did. Though you don’t owe me your voice, I would’ve been fine with silence. I just wanted a distraction that wouldn’t talk about Ganon or war, and you were the first person who wouldn’t.”

He didn’t answer. His eyes were downcast as he made a noise in the same tone as his previous. He raised his hand to his neck—another tick for the counter. Was he suddenly too shy to talk? Or did he decide that silence would be fine with him too?

“Why are you so quiet all the time?” She asked gently, sitting up fully from her reclined position. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I was scared at first.” His simple response came sooner than Zelda expected, and knocked all her thoughts clear from her head.

“Why?” She asked stupidly, cursing herself a thousand times over for such a bland and uneloquent response. She was a princess for Goddess’s sake, she’d been trained on how to talk to people properly. Why now of all times was she going against that?

“I’d never been around . . . royalty before. Aside from Mipha.” He sighed and tangled his fingers more in his hair. “I was just scared I’d mess up somehow. Do or say something stupid.”

“You don’t seem very scared right now.”

“Of course not. Not around you.”

She laughed once, rolling her eyes. “Poetic. But what changed?”

Her knight lifted his hand from his neck, lightly dragging the tips of his fingers across the guard of the sword strapped to his back. “I drew the sword and—” He jerked his hand away from the purple hilt, as if it had burned him. “There’s so much expectation, so many eyes on you. I don’t know how to be the hero that people want. It’s easier to just be quiet.”

“Easier? Or what people prefer?”

“...Both, I guess.”

“I don’t prefer it.”

He smiled, dropping his hands to sit limp on his lap. “Apologies then, Princess.”

Zelda couldn’t pull her eyes from the sacred sword. The green and purple hilt that had been held in so many hands before her knight’s, and yet seemed fit for only her knight’s grip. The wings of metal—symbolizing the Goddess’s blessing–that should’ve snapped and chipped thousands of years ago, and yet remained solid and strong.

“Don’t call me that,” she said with her eyes still trained on the sacred sword.

“I’m sorry?” His smile dropped at her words.

She met his eyes, and he grew noticeably uneasy. “Don’t call me Princess. You are allowed to call me by my name, you know.”

Blue eyes widened and his lips parted. Zelda frowned at this, really he should not be so shocked that she would ask him to use her name. Although, she had never called him by his, had she?

Your highness. Princess. Her knight. The Hero. Their titles passed through each other’s lips constantly, and yet their actual names remained elusive. Never had her knight called her Zelda to her face, and never had she called him by his name around him. What were they dancing around? Protocol? Respect?

An idea formed, and Zelda smiled. She leaned forward to hold out a hand to her knight, breaching his personal space and yet he did not recoil. She tilted her head slightly, staring at him from the side of her eyes. “What if we make a deal?”

“What sort of deal?” He echoed her words from before.

“A trade. You call me by my name, and in exchange I call you by yours.” She waved her hand a bit, drawing his attention back to it. “Is it a deal, Hero?”

He stared at her hand, before taking it in his own and meeting her eyes. “It’s a deal . . . Zelda.”

The grin that spread across her face was like no other. She gripped his hand tighter, pulling it towards her a bit with a small laugh. “You actually said my name,” she said in slight disbelief.

“I did,” he laughed. His ears were red again.

She leaned forward even more, unable to contain the happiness that was building in her chest. “Thank you, Link.”

His face lit up, and Goddesses above Zelda’s heart soared. They were just kids, getting excited over something as simple as throwing their titles aside and calling each other by their names. There was something so personal about it, about squeezing that hand of the person whose very soul was tied to your own, and regarding them as a friend.

A friend. He was a friend. He was her friend, and she was his.

Three hours later, when the sun began to peak over the battle torn horizon and luminate a half destroyed citadel, the door to Zelda’s room creaked open. Impa stopped short of entering the room as her eyes settled on the table pushed close to the princess’s bed, with a candlestick in a melted mess in the center and the two kids fast asleep against it.

She slowly shut the door, giving them a bit more time to rest.

Chapter 9: Courage Steppe: Interlude

Chapter Text

“Those brats!”

Malice splattered across stone, causing it to hiss under the burn of concentrated hatred. The little condensation that had gathered from the cooling air boiled away and the specs of moss burned to ash. A trail of death snaked through the long and empty tunnel. At the trail’s head Astor cursed and screamed, malice soaked fingers twisting into his hair and pulling against his scalp.

“Useless, selfish pawns of Hylia!”

The sputtering guardian stared up at him with its tainted eye, keeping exactly one pace ahead and away. A distorted, choppy whistle squealed out as it easily sidestepped a glob of malice splattering on the ground from Astor’s outburst. If half torn apart robotic vessels hosting the embodiment of hatred and evil could groan, the little guardian most likely would. It instead took to rolling its singular eye in the most exaggerated way that it could possibly manage, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Astor.

“They were sent by the Goddess to spite me, of that I’m sure,” he tsked. The malice dripped from his fingers down his cheeks, slowly making its way further down to his neck and shoulders before disappearing beneath his cloak. It trickled down his arms with the consistency of years old honey before reforming around his hands.

“And what gives you the confidence to so boldly claim Her interference?” The voice vibrated through Astor’s mind like a rock scraping across rusted metal.

He resisted the urge to shiver, resisting the desire to swallow the bile that crept up his throat. He instead cleared it away with a cough, pushing down the anger that still festered in his chest and at the roof of his mouth. “They appeared from thin air, my lord, in a flash of light purer than the bodies of the celestials themselves. Light that pure can only belong to the Goddess.”

“I’ve seen through your eyes, vermin. Don’t waste my time with pointless explanations.” Ganon’s voice was both one and two, both loud and quiet. The loud voice was distorted, a deep and bellowing war cry. The quiet voice phased in and out with each word, a voice that carried the weight of nobility and power but still felt wholly and undeniably mortal. “Nothing of what transpired reeks of Her power. You call yourself a wise prophet and yet you jump to conclusions of divinity like a bokoblin jumps at the chance to devour a rotting corpse. Now silence, your voice is grating on the mind and nerves.”

Astor bowed his head with a snap, a cold sweat dripping from the tip of his nose. “Yes, my lord.”

The mental link between Astor and Ganon had been . . . invigorating when it had been first established, to put it lightly. As the months passed it had become more of a sickening intrusion than a blessing, not that Astor would ever think, let alone voice as much. His connection to Ganon was a gift, an honor for one such as he.

He, a prophet, shamed and outcast for speaking the truth. He, who had been beaten and left for dead for relaying the whispers of the gods that no one wished to hear. He, who prophesied the rise of the Calamity and was still branded as a failure, a false prophet. He, who had lived among the trash and the vermin for ten years of his life. He, who found his salvation buried under the filth thrown out by the Castle on the weekly–a small, broken machine with malice oozing from its every crevice.

Out of everyone, Ganon had chosen him as his messenger. Chosen him as his right hand. For that, Astor would forever be indebted. Even when Ganon demanded new vessels to store his ever growing power. Even when that bitch of a god Hylia had her people shatter the vessel he had worked so hard to temper into perfection. Even when getting a replacement vessel entailed climbing over Meda Mountain and trudging through miles of swamp in the middle of nowhere. And even when making that climb meant leaving behind Astor’s only source of protection while his powers were reduced to nothing more than viscous sludge.

Ganon had insisted on leaving behind their hordes of soldiers at the highlands, adamant that they had a role to play that did not involve babysitting a powerless, washed up fortune-teller. Departing from the waves of guardians and undead had been difficult on Astor, it left him feeling weak. He was back in the alleys, wrapped in rags with fleas in his hair. Of course, his master had shut him up as quickly as he had begun to voice his complaints. The guardians and monsters needed adequate time to prepare for the attack on the larger standing towns of Hyrule.

So Astor hiked up the stupidly named Courage Steppe with nothing but fistfuls of malice, a crumbling guardian, and Ganon’s voice for protection. The latter was little for conversation, chiming in only to shut Astor up or order him to do something. Astor wasn’t sure what he was so scared of running into, most monsters in the area had already been called into Ganon’s service and put under Astor’s command. Realistically, there was nothing to fear in the secluded steppe and the accompanying swamp.

That didn’t stop Astor from ripping a dent into his cheek from panic.

“The new vessel is up ahead. Do not fail.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Murky water washed against the tips of Astor’s boots. A large tree in the center of a small pond casted a long shadow over him, blocking out the already limited light from the calamity. The small guardian avoided the pond like the plague, standing at the far end as it pointed beyond Astor. Following the small clawed finger, Astor felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him at the sight of the steep hill he was silently ordered to climb.

Nevertheless, he climbed. He didn’t utter a word of complaint even as the ground beneath him turned to unsteady marsh. His feet lost traction multiple times, sending him crashing into the mud with a sputtered hiss and curse. Ganon offered him no words, the robotic vessel staring at him expressionlessly as he pushed himself back up each time before beginning anew.

At the top of the hill sat a swamp. In the center of that swamp lay a hinox. On the neck of the hinox hung a key. A key crafted by the hands of the ancients. A key crafted to open the puzzles that the monks had spent decades crafting for the purpose of honing the divinity that Hylia would bestow upon her vessels–the blessings She would bestow upon her Hero.

A key that would become Ganon’s key to power.

The hinox stood, its single eye widening as its lips peeled back in a snarl. It blinked, and Astor had already laid a palm on its leg. It didn’t have enough time to blink a second time.

Chapter 10: The Chill of Night

Chapter Text

“Where is Ganon?”

“The Castle.”

“Where is Ganon attacking?”

“Pretty sure he’s attacking everywhere.”

“What’s his weakness?”

“Stabbing?”

The captain sat across the table from Kohga and Sooga, her remaining hand drumming against the wooden grain. Kohga appreciated the change of scenery, the small office they were crammed in was much more cozy compared to the cell he and Sooga had been trapped in for a full day. Being woken in the dead of night had been irritating to put it lightly, but the breath of literal fresh air had been a blessing from Hylia herself.

Leaning forward, the captain glared at the yiga with the same tired look she had been giving them for nearly an hour. “How do we kill Ganon?”

“Couldn’t tell ya,” Kohga answered with a grin. “My guess is the princess.”

“That’s obvious,” the captain hissed, offended almost.

“Then why ask a senile old fool questions you already know the answer to?”

“Curiosity.”

“There’s a saying of curiosity killing remlets, Righty.”

The captain sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her right hand. “Are you sure I can’t kill him? Save us all a headache.”

The birdies laughed from their spot leaned against the wall. They had both been silent observers during it all, pressed against the stone with their arms crossed and their attention elsewhere. The two of them had a lot of nerve sitting in on the yiga’s interrogation after pulling a disappearing act for the entirety of the day. Not once had Kohga so much as glimpsed their masks in the hours preceding the captain’s orders for them to be brought to her private office.

“Lady Impa will want the prisoners alive, I fear,” Spirit said with a hint of amusem*nt in her voice.

“Surely she wouldn’t mind if we at least rid them of their tongues?”

“A tongue-less rat doesn’t spill much information,” Kohga laughed before swallowing the dryness that has filled his throat like sand.

“A rat with no information to begin with isn’t much use,” the captain bit back. “Tongue or not makes no difference.”

He bit down on his tongue lightly, protectively. The kingdom resulted to torture rarely, but if they were to make an exception it would absolutely be for the leader of the yiga clan himself.

“Lady Impa may need information from them, it’s important that we keep them intact,” Ghost spoke up in defense of the yiga. He had pulled his hair back loosely, though his bangs still obscured the eyes of his mask slightly. It made him easier to look at compared to Spirit.

Only slightly.

Kohga relaxed, dropping an anxious tension from his shoulders he hadn’t even realized he had been holding. He took it all back, the birdies were a blessing. He had to only hope the birdies wouldn’t decide that he and Sooga didn’t need to be kept in one piece for whatever it was they were keeping them for.

The captain’s glare settled on the yiga once again. “Shame.”

The guard at the door shuffled uncomfortably. Their dented armor creaked each time they moved and it was beginning to get on Kohga’s nerves. What purpose did the guard serve? Right now their only duty was to intimidate the yiga and not protect the dozens of innocent people outside the door.

Kohga took the silence that was suffocating the room as an opportunity to bump his arm against Sooga’s side. His second in command grunted, but otherwise didn’t respond. He was looking much better, especially after he had spent the entire day up until then sleeping. The stitches in his shoulder and knee had closed completely, though the skin was still pink and tender and Kohga was afraid that if he moved too fast he would open them right back up. Even if Sooga insisted he was fine.

His recovery was like a miracle, and Kohga had to wonder just how the birdies had gotten their hands on such potent potion. That stuff wasn’t easy to come by, and when you could find some it cost an arm and a bunch of bananas just for a single vial.

“Kohga,” Spirit spoke up when the captain had begun to tap against the table again, “do you have any idea where Astor could have run to?”

“The king’s old fortune teller?” The captain’s fingers froze mid-air. Her eyes didn’t leave the yiga as she spoke. “We’d heard rumors he had been spotted alongside the yiga but no one believed it.”

The bastard was infamous, was he? The royalty of the past had always had a royal seer to serve alongside them. They were regarded with the same reverence as the royalty themselves, given lavish housings and fine silks with the snap of their fingers. The seers were gifted individuals, said to be messengers sent by the gods themselves to advise Hyrule in its future.

Astor had been the final seer in Hyrule’s court. A seer of destruction and calamity. The gods were poetic, Kohga would give them that.

“Best bet is he’s dancin’ around the Citadel, celebrating what little victory he can with Ganon after the embarrassment of yesterday.” In all honesty Kohga had no idea where the crazy bastard would have gone. He was just blindly guessing.

Kohga’s answer earned a huff of irritation from the captain. “Then you are useless after all.”

She stood as Kohga opened his mouth to argue, cutting him off. She kicked the chair away from her slightly, looking down at the yiga tied down to the chairs in front of her. Despite missing her left arm and being covered in more bandages than a gibdo, the captain was intimidating.

“I would disagree,” Kohga shot back when he managed to swallow the small pit of dread in his gut. The birdies would stop her from hurting either Sooga or him . . . right?

“You’ve given nothing but empty or false information this entire time. There’s nothing to disagree about.”

“We have not lied to you, Captain,” Sooga said calmly as he elbowed Kohga in the side and knocked the wind from him. “We don’t have many answers, but everything we’ve said has been the truth.”

Her eyebrows raised, and she scoffed at them. “You claim the false prophet has retreated to the Citadel, and yet the Citadel has not fallen into Ganon’s control.”

“Hate to break it to you, Righty, but it has.” Kohga hated to be the bearer of bad news—that was a lie, he didn’t mind it in the slightest—but someone had to tell her. “Ganon’s army went off to conquer the Citadel last night. By the time the sun rose this morning it was already under his hoof.”

“Not according to the message I received this afternoon, informing me that Ganon’s attempted seize of the Citadel was thwarted by the Princess and her Champions.” The captain placed her hand on the table as she leaned forward. “So even the useful information you do have is outdated, rats.”

Both birdies perked up, their heads swiveling to stare at the captain. Neither of them said anything, but their attention was fixated on the captain as she pushed herself back from the table and straightened up with a huff. She turned her back completely to the yiga, bowing her head to the birdies.

“The useless bastards are all yours, now. Apologies for asking you to come here so late for something that ended up getting us nowhere.”

“We were getting ready to leave tonight, anyway,” Spirit said immediately with a shrug–though the tenseness of her shoulders and voice betrayed her. “It’s no trouble, really.”

That was news to Kohga, and conflicting information on top of it. The birdies had said they had until tomorrow before they were setting off, and Kohga had been looking forward to getting to sleep somewhere relatively safe for another night.

“So suddenly?” The captain sounded caught off-guard. “Surely you should wait until morning. After all you’ve done for the post, the least we can do is offer you a room for another night.”

“We’d like to reach Kakariko before tomorrow afternoon, if possible,” Spirit said. “But we already cannot thank you enough for your hospitality.”

The captain waved her off, shaking her head. “I should be thanking you for all your help. If sheikah work ever gets boring I’d be more than happy to put you to more work. You’d make passable soldiers.”

“We’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Spirit laughed in a way that said that neither birdie would keep it in mind.

The ropes around Kohga and Sooga’s wrists had been cut the moment they stepped foot out of the post and the Captain could no longer see them. Kohga rotated his wrists, wincing at the burn on his skin. Sooga was doing the same, though he seemed unbothered by the rash that had surely rubbed his wrists raw through the fabric of his uniform.

Spirit and Ghost stared off at the horizon while the yiga adjusted themselves to being free for the first time in over a day. The night air was cold, uncomfortably so. Already a chill had begun to bite at Kohga’s skin, and he knew it would only get worse as time went on. Yiga uniforms were made to stave off heat, not frost.

While Kohga rubbed his hands together he followed the birdies’ sight. The horizon was dark against the bloodshot sky, plumes of smoke obstructing the light from the moon to the trees. The Castle was dead center of it all, parts of it still smoldering with malice and fire.

“If we travel quick we should reach the peaks by midnight,” Spirit spoke up, breaking the dead silence of the looming castle.

She and Ghost both began to cross the bridge, nodding to the single guard posted outside as they passed. The guard gripped their spear tighter, too focused on the freed yiga to acknowledge the birdies. They only lowered their spear once the yiga had stepped off the bridge completely. The guard was sure to tell the Captain sooner rather than later that the “sheikah messengers” had freed their supposed prisoners, but neither Spirit nor Ghost seemed too bothered by this.

Falling into step beside them, Kohga glared down at the birdies, not that they could see it under his mask. “What happened to us leaving tomorrow?”

“It’s crucial that we make it to Fort Hateno as quickly as possible,” was Spirit’s answer; she did not elaborate further.

“Because of the Citadel?” Sooga asked.

Neither birdie bothered with a response beyond quickening their pace. It left Kohga breathless, but his exhaustion gave him a distraction from the numbness that crept up his toes like frost. The post grew further behind them as time went on, the flickering light of torches fading into the night.

The moon was pink, a side effect of the redness that stained the sky. The thick fog of Ganon’s power blocked out the usual beauty of the sky, not a single star visible. In the desert the sky came to life at night. If you could get past the deadly cold and find a high vantage point, the night would stretch for eternity. Purples and blues and pinks all cut through the darkness like ribbons, forming celestial bodies that would never be more than points in the sky.

His breath was forming condensation on the inside of his mask and it was beginning to irritate him. Sure, it kept his face warm while the rest of him surely froze to death, but he could do without the moisture. He contemplated taking off his mask, even for a moment, but decided against it. Not with the birdies so close, not when they could decide the yiga weren’t useful to them after all and turn on them.

Not when it seemed like the only reason they kept the yiga around was to have a couple of meat shields on hand.

Stone roads turned to dirt turned to sand. The sand beneath their feet wasn’t like the sand of the desert, it was much too wet for Kohga’s liking. It made it more solid than desert sand, more permanent. Each step taken left a print, a print that could be tracked, a print that wouldn’t fade until the river rose high enough to wash it away. Kohga had no idea why the birdies had deviated from the laid out road to walk along the river, but he hated it regardless of reason.

Ghost stopped walking in the too wet sand, water lapping at the tip of his boots as he stood there completely motionless. Kohga almost ran into him, having to put his foot down hard to stop his step from continuing. It sunk his foot into the sand deeper, and he could feel something solid buried beneath where he stood.

Upon noticing her companion’s shift in behavior Spirit set a hand on the large weapon handle on her back. “Below us?”

“Yes,” Ghost answered with a sharp hiss. His fingers wrapped around the pole on his back, but he did not remove it.

“What’s below us,” Kohga whisper-shouted, but neither of the birdies paid him any attention.

Sooga stepped closer to him, his head swiveling every which way. The yiga were weaponless, their blades confiscated by the guards and given to the birdies who had them tucked neatly away in the slate that had been strapped to Ghost’s hip.

“How many?” Spirit pulled the hulking weapon from her back. She held it with both hands like a broadsword but there were no sharp edges to the weapon. It was more like a bat.

A very broad and uncomfortably shaped bat.

Ghost had no chance to answer before the sand beneath their feet exploded. Skeletal hands burst from it like a molduga emerging from its sea of sand. The three fingered hands gripped at the wet ground, tearing it apart as the hands began to pull themselves up to the air. More hands burst from the ground. Kohga avoided one latching onto his ankle as Sooga lifted him by the waist, holding him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Sooga had jumped back to the strip of dirt path beside the riverside the birdies stood on still. The dirt was a little more solid beneath them, it was less likely any stals would grab at their ankles. But the sudden change in elevation disoriented Kohga. Everything spun, a blur of red and blue. When his vision cleared and Sooga held him still Kohga twisted around, scrambling to catch sight of the birdies.

They were surrounded on all sides, five stalkoblins snapping their bones into place while they gnashed their teeth eagerly. None of the stals seemed interested in the yiga standing just a few paces back, their gazes too focused on the glowing weapons held in front of their empty sockets. A spear was gripped loosely in Ghost’s right hand, the glowing tip scratching across the sand and etching blue into the grain.

The weird bat in Spirit’s hands had come to life with a row of teeth wrapping around the blunt base, forming a crude, geometric blade of light. She flicked her thumb against something on the handle, and the blade in her hand screamed to life. The teeth turned, spinning fast enough that the light blurred the individual teeth and formed a singular, solid blade.

What.

Kohga’s bafflement had no time to sink in before the stals began to charge. The birdies split in two different directions without a sound, falling into battle with a formless grace. Spirit drew the attention of three of the stals with a single swing of her blade . . . axe . . . thing. It carved through bone like a knife through butter.

The stals rattled out hisses in anger as one of the monsters collapsed into a formless pile. Before it could reform, Spirit swung the blade down, cracking the head in half as the whirring blade tore it to shreds before Kohga could blink.

Another stal lunged forward, claws outstretched. Spirit ducked under the swipe with a speed that spoke of comfortable experience with dodging. She rammed her elbow into the stal’s ribcage, pulling the beast along with her as she spun her weight to slide the blade through the other stal.

The stal beneath her blade crumbled and its head bounced a small distance away. The stalkoblin locked on Spirit’s elbow smashed against the ground as her momentum had her throwing her weight down.

She raised her elbow, smashing it into the ground repeatedly as the stal screamed out beneath her. A crack rang through Kohga’s ears as the ribcage around Spirit’s elbow shattered, and the body of the stal fell still.

She kicked the head towards the two of them, landing beside Sooga’s feet. He raised his foot, shattering the skull in one-fell stomp before it could even scream out.

Spirit shifted her stance and adjusted her grip on the whirring weapon in her hands. Her head was turned away from the yiga and towards Ghost, who was batting stalls away with his spear with controlled precision. His footwork was perfect, enough to rival the alleged spearwork of the zora princess if Kohga had to guess.

The headless stal Spirit had forgotten beneath her feet lunged upwards. She twisted, raising her blade above her head but the stal grabbed onto her cloak and pulled it back before she was given a chance to swing at it.

She stumbled, twisting hard enough to rip the cloak from the clawed grip. The tearing of fabric echoed against the nearby cliffs.

A strong kick to the side sent the headless stal smashing into the ground. It landed, a hand outstretched to the head bouncing up and down a few inches away, gnashing its teeth. It opened its jaw to screech, but a blue, glowing spear point shot through its eye socket. The head fell limp, impaled through a spear with two other skulls skewered up the shaft.

The two birdies were breathing heavily as Ghost made his way over to the thrown spear. He ripped it from the ground, turning the tip to the sky to admire the new decorations. The bones laying around their feet didn’t make any move to stand back up, becoming nothing more than a pile of bones. Ghost flicked his spear once, throwing two of the heads from it. The third fell off in two pieces with a little tug, split clean in half with a large impact straight between its eyes.

Spirit sighed once silence had fallen across the clearing. She flicked something on the handle of her weapon again and the spinning slowed to a stop. Once it had stilled the glowing teeth evaporated into the air, flecks of blue light shimmering around her.

The spear in Ghost’s hands powered down as well—the tip folding over on itself and blue light flickering out around him. He lifted it over his shoulder to lock back onto his back. Kohga watched a small orange disc attached to Ghost’s baldric light up a vibrant blue, magnetizing the spear towards it. The spear snapped onto the disc, secured into place without a hassle.

“Hylia be damned,” Kohga whistled.

“It’s quite rude to stare, you know,” Spirit said with a hint of laughter as she hefted her weapon over her shoulder, securing it to her back in the same way Ghost had.

“Well it’s hard not to when you’re dancing all over the place with something like” –Kohga gestured a hand to Spirit’s back for a lack of a way to explain the demon spawn of a weapon she had spun about– “that.”

“It’s a bladesaw,” she answered, though her attention was solely drawn to the tear in her cloak than him.

“It’s sheikah technology, is what it is.” Kohga stretched his arms above his head as Sooga lowered him back to his feet. He kicked the crumbled remains of a skull, drawing the tip of his foot through the dust.

Spirit held the end of her cloak in her hands, rubbing a thumb over the tear that ran a few inches down the center. Ghost leaned over her shoulder and she held out the damage for him to see. Kohga could hear the sounds of talking, but neither of their words quite reached him. The cloak was dropped, and Spirit pushed Ghost away with her shoulder with a laugh. Despite the battle mere minutes ago, there was a playful energy between them.

Gross.

Spirit stepped past the yiga, with Ghost close behind. Ghost patted Kohga’s shoulder as he passed and nodded his head towards the nearby forest. “We’re going to set up camp for the night.”

Kohga huffed and crossed his arms across his chest. “What? So the two of you love birds can get some privacy?”

They stopped; two empty-eyed masks turned to stare right at him. It was hard to tell in the red night, but he couldn’t see any embarrassment on their ears.

“Kohga,” Spirit’s voice was full of exasperation, like a tired mother telling their child to stop licking the dirt.

“Yes, Bluebird?”

“Please stop talking for now.”

He would not.

A small campfire crackled under Kohga’s hands. He stretched his fingers out a bit more, reaching out for the warmth. The fire roared as a new log was thrown in, sending a puff of embers up into Kohga’s face. They extinguished when they landed on the face of his mask. Across the fire Ghost tossed a smaller stick into the fire, before throwing another into the pile of wood beside them. It was a meager little pile, enough to last through the night.

The two birdies hadn’t snuck off for some alone time upon setting up camp. Spirit had gone off with her “bladesaw” in hand, and came back with a pile of logs on her shoulder and holy Hylia she was stronger than she looked.

Ghost had cut it all down into more manageable pieces before starting the fire, a process which Spirit had been absent for.

She had dropped her ripped cloak in the dirt and then all but thrown herself down by the small tarp that had been pitched up. There she had sat, with her hands folded in her lap and head hung low, since.

Ghost didn’t give her a second glance. Instead he had sat himself down, stripped himself of his armor until he was sitting in only a black, high neck sweater and pants. His mask was still there, of course, but without the chainmail and layers of leather belts and pads he looked like some village peasant. The sleeves of the sweater were rolled up to his elbows, and the scars across his arms glowed in the fire.

His right arm and hand had a few scratches. A thin one ran down his thumb and up his wrist, and another looked suspiciously like a lizalfos bite—Kohga would know, he had one on his leg from an annoying bastard. The kid’s left arm though . . . that was what drew most of Kohga’s attention. Burn scars ran up and down most of the visible skin. It wrapped around his wrist, covering his palm and creeping up his thumb and index. The skin was leathery, a few patches slightly discolored.

Despite this, Ghost’s hands moved with uncertain precision as he stitched up Spirit’s hood. Every few minutes he would pause to hold up his handiwork, turning it this way and that before deciding he was unsatisfied and starting back up.

After noticing that he had an audience, Ghost had dropped the finished cloak into Kohga’s lap without a word. He couldn’t deny that Ghost was competent with a needle. Not the best semester he had ever seen, but a far league above any amateur.

“You a tailor or something?” Kohga snarked.

“Or something,” Ghost hummed and he leaned his back against a fallen log and pulled the tie from his hair.

“A tailor couldn’t fight as well as you did,” Sooga remarked from across the fire.

“Depends on the tailor.”

Kohga ran his gloved fingers over the seam once more before tossing it back across the fire. Thankfully the birdie caught it away from the flickering jaws.

“Where’d you learn?” Kohga asked.

Ghost nodded his head towards where Spirit sat. “She’s been sewing for years; far better than I am right now.”

“Not the sewing!” Kohga shouted. He suppressed a sigh at the incompetence of his birdies, he could not imagine a world where he would want to know more about sewing abilities. “Your fighting, birdie. You’re proficient, where’d you learn?”

It took Ghost a second longer to respond than he had the sewing. He set his hands on the folded fabric of the cloak. Then he shrugged, “Self-taught, mostly.”

Kohga could hear the raised brow beneath Sooga’s mask as he spoke, “Both of you?”

Ghost nodded. A crack in the bottom of his mask casted shadows across it that flickered in time with the flames. “We used to spend a lot of time on the road. Lots of practice there.”

“Used to, but not anymore.” Kohga folded one leg under him and kept his other up so that his knee was level with his chest. He leaned against his bent leg until his knee dug into the center of his ribs. “Smart birdies. With how dangerous the roads have been getting, I’d hate to see you two gutted off some beaten trail somewhere.”

Ghost let out a small laugh through his nose, the soft shake of his head splashing the oranges of the fire across the handmade mask.

The night was silent aside from the crackling of the fire. There was something eerie about the absence of everything else. Where Kohga expected droning cricket chirps and high squeals following the leathery flaps of wings, there was nothing.

Not until Sooga cleared his throat. “The two of you are young. Far too young to be as well battled and traveled as you claim. You must have been on the roads for a long time.”

Ghost shrugged again, though his shoulders just barely moved. “Few years. I’ve been fighting for longer.”

“And your families?”

“Died,” Ghost answered just as simply as everything else. “Long time ago.”

There’s a long stretch of hesitation, before Ghost adds on in a bit of a murmur, “But there’s… Some people I’d consider family now. Even if it’s not by blood.”

Strays then. Kohga was all too familiar with those, and with taking them in. Ironic, usually he was the one to seek out the stragglers, to protect them. The birdies had flipped that on its head.

Kohga spared a glance over to Spirit, who still had yet to move. “Is that what you two love birds are? Family?”

Her ear twitched, she was listening in.

Ghost spared a look over to Spirit as well, mulling over his answer. “Partners.”

“Lovers?”

Ghost shrugged for the millionth time, and Kohga wanted to tear his hair out. Birdie of few words and even the ones he did speak led to more questions he would never answer.

“So, where’d you two lovebirds meet?” That didn’t stop Kohga from prying more.

In the silence Spirit’s footsteps became noticeable. She plopped herself down on the log beside Ghost, setting her arm on his head and leaning against him. “What’re we talking about?”

“Nothing particular,” Kohga waved his hand back and forth limply at the wrist. He twirled it before pointing at Spirit. “Is the birdie done with her mental breakdown?”

“I was collecting my thoughts,” she bit back dryly. “And trying my best to ignore the strangely directed interrogation.”

“So you do know what we were talking about,” Kohga pointed out with an occurring jab of his finger.

“I was only five feet away and you weren’t exactly being quiet, of course I do.”

Kohga snorted, “I had been under the impression that you’d gotten lost in that big head of yours.”

“A man who has never stopped to think for even a moment doesn’t get to look down on me.”

Sooga laughed, quickly covering it up with a cough.

These birdies were starting to remind him of nights spent sitting around boxes and laughing over split open bananas. Of yiga masks in a pile tossed to the side and smiles filling the entire hideout despite the sandstorm raging outside.

…Kohga did his best to cast the thought from his mind.

Kohga set his elbow on his knee, leaning forward and holding his head in his hand. “And what was our Bluebird thinking of, hmm?”

“What to do with the leader of the yiga and his second-in-command, actually.”

The campfire popped. The shadows of the trees around them stretched outwards like guards with spears. There was a cliff behind them, and a few thousand feet away sat the Dueling Peaks, an eye catching sight. It was a sight that Kohga was currently admiring. It was a bit hard to see through the leaves blocking his view, but he managed. The peaks were covered in snow, and it would be any day now that it would creep further down.

There were some civilians down the road where Kohga and the others had already passed, settled into a camp of their own. If Kohga listened close enough he could hear the echo of their voices through the trees. They were shouting at each other.

“Yeah?” Kohga asked when the shouting in the distance lulled.

Ghost’s hands twisted tighter in the fabric of Spirit’s hood. Spirit had her head turned up towards the sky, showing off a long scar that snaked up her throat and under the right side of her mask. Embers floated down to the dirt, landing on Spirit’s outstretched boots. The cinders rested on the leather and metal for a few breaths before disappearing.

Spirit ran a hand through her hair. The motion messed up her bangs, untucking them from behind her ears so that they hung down low and covered her mask.

“We are planning to join the war against the Calamity. We would like you to join us but… I don’t think it fair to not give you a choice in the matter,” she said.

“You are going to get yourselves killed,” Sooga echoed the words that Kohga thought.

Then the birdies laughed as though a joke had been told. Not the funniest joke in the kingdom, as they only spared a few chuckles between themselves that sounded far duller than a laugh had any right to be.

“I can assure you we’re far tougher than we look,” Spirit said and Kohga could just imagine the corners of the painted beak on her mask drawing up into a tight little smile. “But I don’t know if your safety can be guaranteed if you join us.”

“So you’d just let us go?” Kohga asked and leaned forward, raising his head from his hand and letting it drop limp beside his knee. “Dissolve our little agreement so quickly? I didn’t know you found being with us so repulsive!”

“No I…” Spirit let out a long breath after a pause. “We would prefer if you would aid us, of course. With you and your yiga on our side, we’d feel much safer. But I can understand that we would be asking a lot from you.”

Her mask was still trained up on the sky when she continued, “If you would rather, we would ask you to help with evacuations. You saw how crowded the roads into the Eastern Post were, there are people who need help all over Hyrule.”

Kohga scoffed, though a million thoughts were racing through his mind. The birdies were being serious and Sooga was right, they were going to get themselves killed. It didn’t matter if they had stolen technology and battle experience. To make an enemy of Ganon was to make an enemy of the closest thing to a god as any mortal would ever encounter.

“And you’re giving us a choice…” Kohga let his words hang for a single, agonizing minute before he continued with a tilt of his head, “why?”

“We don’t want to force you into a war,” Ghost shrugged.

“How noble of you!” Kohga’s laugh was dry in his throat. “No matter what choice we make, you're still involving us.”

“Would you prefer to wait back at the jail until things calm down?” Spirit asked with a trace of venom in her words. “I hadn’t taken you as the type to run away.”

“You’d send us back to prison?” Kohga chuckled. “I didn’t know you had that sort of authority, Bluebird.”

“We aren’t sending you to–” Spirit cut herself off with a quiet groan. “We’ve given you choices, jailing you is just one of them.”

And his choices were awful ones.

Kohga rolled his eyes and kicked his foot out towards the fire. A stick flew into the flames, and he stared at it as it slowly charred black and its bark turned to ash. Kohga imagined himself burning under the malice of Ganon. He imagined the birdies, cooked like cuccoos on a stick with charcoal masks forever welded to their faces.

“Why are you two so eager to die, hmm?” He pointed accusingly at the two of them. “What boons are you hoping to receive for fighting a god?”

“It has something to do with the portal you opened,” Sooga said.

The reminder of Spirit’s words from the previous night spent inside the jail shook Kohga to the core, and he had nearly forgotten about the admission the guard had so rudely cut short.

Neither of them answered for a while. Spirit had leaned herself back against Ghost in the silence, and he had gone back to weaving his fingers into knots in her cloak. The silence was comfortable for them, it seemed. They retreated to it a lot, using it like a shield.

“Do either of you… Know the story of the Hero of Time?” Spirit asked, breaking the chill of the air.

Kohga blinked. Of course they did, who didn’t know the tales of Hylia’s most fabled chosen child. He had heard many stories about them and the prince that had walked alongside them since he had been but a toddler.

He had grown up with tales of songs that could warp time, gods with a cruel sense of humor, a man turned beast over his lust for power, all of it made for very exciting bedtime stories. Stories told in nursery rhymes and work songs, or sat in the pages of children’s books.

When it became clear that neither birdie would continue, Kohga gave her a hesitant nod.

“When the Hero of Time traveled into the future, it created a diverging path through time.” Spirit’s fingers picked at the skin around her nails, worrying away over a turmoil Kohga could not possibly know. “The future of destruction they traveled to wasn’t the future of their original time, since they diverted that destruction in the past. It was impossible for both times to exist on the same path, and so they diverged, creating a world where the Corrupt King was foiled, and one where he won.”

Alternate universes, yeah. Every kid and their grandma knew about those tall tales.

The firelight splashed across Spirit’s mask, showing the imperfections in the grain that were overlooked. The beak was chipping away, the paint fading around the edges. A thin crack ran down the right eye, but it wasn’t deep enough to show anything. The carve was uneven, the mask being ever-so-slightly lopsided.

The orange danced more with the uncomfortable shift of her body and sigh of her shoulders. “If someone were to travel backwards in time, instead of forward, it would be impossible for them to travel directly into their own past. Not unless the action of traveling backwards through time had already impacted the present they had hailed from.

“We’re from an alternate future to your own, one where the Calamity had prevailed.”

Against his will Kohga snorted, and blurted out, “Right, and I’m the Princess.”

“A hundred years ago the Champions died in their Divine Beasts, the Hero died protecting the Princess, and the Princess used her powers to hold Ganon back to prevent the destruction of everything.” Ghost’s voice was heavy, and it pressed painfully down on Kohga’s lungs to the point where each breath felt like a conscious labor. “Hundreds of thousands died.”

Kohga wanted to laugh, but nothing would come out. He was left in a stunned silence, Sooga in a similar state.

“A hundred years?” He managed to choke out after what felt like an eternity.

“A hundred and… Three? I want to say?” Spirit tilted her head towards Ghost as a small confirmation.

“A hundred and five,” he corrected.

Spirit let out a small laugh and nod. “Well, regardless of the specifics, a strange mishap with a malfunctioning sheikah device in our time sent four of our friends backwards into yours. Knowing them, and how selfless and noble they all are, they’re surely committing to preventing this time from having a future like ours.

“And… Well… If the two of us are able to help too” –Spirit glanced over at Ghost– “we’d be willing to try. We have seen first hand the amount of destruction Ganon’s partial victory over the land caused, and it would be a travesty to allow it to happen again.”

Partial victory. So the princess wasn’t and isn’t able to defeat Ganon afterall. The revelation didn’t come to much shock, Kohga suspected that everyone knew it to be true by this point.

“You’re risking your lives for a world that isn’t even yours,” Sooga said tersely. “You’re clouded by your wishful thinking.”

Spirit jolted her head towards Sooga. The black fabric covering the gaping holes for the eyes of her mask looked brown in the light and the golden paint looked crimson. It was an eerie sight, coupled with the disheveled hair and dirty underclothes.

“You…” Spirit gasped; in the unreliable firelight the eyes of her mask widened. “You believe something as outlandish as this, so quickly?”

Was Kohga going to believe it so quickly? Because why in Hylia’s name were they even saying? A hundred years in the future? Time travel? It was insane.

About as insane as the fractured consciousness of the King of Evil living inside a tiny guardian that a fortune teller found in a sewer.

“I mean…” Kohga cleared his throat to get rid of the break in his voice. “If you wanted to lie, I can imagine at least ten more believable lies you could’ve come up with!”

He could feel that Sooga’s eyes were on him, but he wasn’t ready yet. He looked at the strays across from him, their heads turned and their shoulders tense. There truly was no reason for them to lie about something like that, and even if it didn’t make sense Kohga couldn’t bring himself to not believe them. Either what they said was the truth, or they believed it was the truth.

With a mental sigh he turned towards his second in command. Sooga had his head in his hand, he raised it when Kohga looked at him. No words were exchanged, but none needed to be. It was Kohga’s decision, ultimately. Sooga would advise him if asked, but would follow Kohga’s word without question no matter what.

“We’ll think on it,” he answered, just loud enough to be heard across the fire. “On joining you against Ganon.”

The birdies bowed their heads in unison, keeping them hung. “Thank you.”

“Buuuut” –Kohga pushed his hands against his knees, leaning back straight– “if we do, I expect to learn all about this future you come from! So get spilling, birdies.”

“Master Kohga,” Sooga spoke as the birdies raised their heads. “With all due respect, it’s late and we have a journey ahead of us tomorrow. It would be best to rest up while we can.”

“He’s right.” Spirit stood, brushing herself off. Ghost followed suit, grabbing onto Spirit’s hand to pull himself up. He handed her the mended cloak and she tucked in under her arm before looking down at the still seated yiga. “We’ll trade stories for stories, so make sure you have your own ready by tomorrow.”

Nothing else was said as bedrolls were laid out and fires were extinguished. Kohga laid on his back, listening to the steady breathing of his sleeping companions. He traced fingers over his mask, setting it on his chest as he tried to ignore the bite of cold on his nose.

The war of malice above him was broken, just barely enough for him to catch a glimpse of the stars. The moon was pink. The sight filled his restless dreams.

Chapter 11: Rude Awakening

Chapter Text

“It’s over,” she sobbed. The arms that wrapped around her tightened more than was comfortable. It was only then that she was made aware of the wetness that had begun to soak the skin of her shoulder. She savored the feeling, and buried her own face into the nook between neck and collarbone before squeezing back.

The air was permeated with decay and fire and made Zelda feel like retching. She inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke and rotten malice fill every inch of her lungs up. The stench was lessened by the fabric beneath her nose. It reeked of blood and sweat. Never before had those smells ever appealed to her, or been comforting in the slightest. Yet she dug her face deeper into it.

“It’s over,” a voice choked out, muffled against her collar bone. It was familiar, and yet so, so foreign she wanted to cry all over again.

She hadn’t realized her knees gave out until they hit the ground. Mud and grass squished under her bare skin, and the feeling made her sob out to the point where she wasn’t sure if she was crying or screaming. The person wrapped around her like a blanket had most of their weight pressed against her. They were clinging to her like she would fade away if their grip faltered for even a moment.

Both everything and nothing existed all at once. Her senses were overwhelmed with the taste of the air and the blood in her mouth, the feeling of mud stained fabric on her skin, the sound of birds in the distance. Yet at the same time the only thing that existed was the person before her, and that was the only thing that mattered.

“We’re free,” she screamed and cried. “We’re finally free.”

Zelda woke to a sudden rapping against her door. She sat up with a groan and winced at the tightness in her shoulders and neck. A pins-and-needles feeling raced up both of her arms and raising them above her head only made it worse. She’d fallen asleep with her arms tucked underneath her head like a pillow, and she was paying the price for it.

Four more knocks–even louder than the last–cleared out the lingering dream from Zelda’s mind and willed her legs to stand. Her dreams had started to affect her more than normal, becoming much more vivid and invasive than before. She hoped it was just because of the stress, and that when all was said and done she could go back to dreamless bliss.

Her eyes fell on Link, who was still fast asleep against the table and unbothered by the increasing intensity of their impatient visitor. Their conversation from last night filtered into her thoughts and she smiled. She stepped around him, careful not to rouse him. Though in her efforts she had forgotten about the small guardian curled against her feet. She kicked it right in its eye, sending pain shooting up her leg through her spine and waking the machine all in one fell swoop.

It beeped at her, jumping up to stand but otherwise did not berate her for the foot to its face. It scrambled to follow her every step. With each slow creak of the floorboards came a frantic scurry of metal on wood. The little guardian was loud, loud enough that it could probably wake a sleeping hinox. Link slept through it all.

Even if he was a heavy sleeper, Zelda wasn’t willing to take the chance. She bent down and wrapped her hands underneath the guardian’s body, lifting it off the ground. It strained her arms to lift it any higher than her hips, but even that made her shoulders ache. It seemed to get the memo–thankfully–and let out a whistle one last time before remaining quiet. Once it had settled Zelda was able to wrap her full arms around it, better supporting its weight and allowing her to hold it against her chest.

The door swung open, and Zelda’s good morning died on her tongue. A soldier stood in the same spot Link had just that night. He was dressed fully in armor from head to toe, a broadsword strapped to his back. He was dressed for combat.

The soldier bowed his head, keeping it lowered as he spoke. “Apologies for waking you, Your Grace. I was instructed by the captains to bring you and the Champion to them.”

The slight quiver of fear that shook the soldier’s heart gave Zelda a sickening pause. She nodded, biting on the tip of her tongue for just a moment, not long enough to stall conversation and show her own fear.

“Would you give us a moment?”

The soldier made a noise of agreement before Zelda slammed the door in his face with her foot.

That proved to be enough to jolt Link awake. A strangled hiss left his clenched teeth and the guardian beeped in response. It wriggled in her arms enough to fall free, clattering to the floor and rolling onto its side. When it was able to reorient itself it tripped over Zelda’s feet in a rush to ram itself against Link’s leg.

Zelda’s thoughts jumped to the worst as she stared at the door. She pinched her bottom lip between her teeth, not hard enough to hurt. If Link had been serious about how many rules he had broken to see her last night, then were the two of them in trouble for it? Was that why the captains needed them both?

No, no. That didn’t make sense. They wouldn’t have sent a soldier in their stead to fetch them. The soldier wouldn’t have sounded afraid if it was just that. It had to be something far more serious. She tried not to dwell on it, and cleared her simmering unease with a shaky exhale. She needed rational thoughts if she wanted to have even a fraction of a chance against Ganon.

The little guardian continued to bump its entire body against Link’s leg, letting out a whistle each time it made contact. Zelda had been pushed awake by the little thing many times before; she even had small bruises on her sides from the mornings where she refused to rise. It seemed to her that Link was having one of those mornings, as he hadn’t budged an inch despite the guardian’s best efforts.

Zelda nudged the little guardian away from him with her hand and it screamed out a defiant whistle. The little guardian didn’t persist after, however. It stood behind Zelda’s legs, eye peeking between them at the still knight.

Zelda didn’t want to raise her voice much, so she spoke just above a whisper. “Link, wake up.” When he didn’t respond she leaned down and nudged his leg with her foot. “Link, the captains want–”

The rest of her voice died in her throat when she saw his eyes were already open. They were unfocused, pointed down at the table that had served as his bed. It was then that Zelda noticed the sweat that coated his forehead and his shoulders that shook with each heavy breath in. He looked sick, painfully so.

They had already broken the old traditions and protocols of the kingdom last night, Zelda didn’t hesitate to break another. She swept the hair from his face and set her hand on his forehead. She wanted to recoil at the burning heat on his skin, but she resisted. The touch focused his eyes on her, and he was giving her one of the most weak and pathetic smiles she had ever seen.

“Morning,” he croaked out.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” She tried to keep her voice calm, but her worry slipped out.

“My back,” he responded in the same calm tone that Zelda was trying to achieve–though she suspected his calmness came from his exhaustion more than anything.

Zelda pulled the back of his hand-me-down shirt up at his approval, and she wished she hadn’t. The thick bandages wrapped around his middle had been completely soaked in sweat and a yellowish discharge. From underneath the wrappings something dark and grey peaked out. The realization that the grey was his skin came with a lurching nausea. It was the spot the malice had dripped on to.

She dropped the shirt as though it were white hot, hiding the sight from her. “You said Mipha healed this.”

“She did.”

“You– You seemed fine last night. Were you hiding it?” It was a question more to herself than anything. Had he been in pain throughout that night? Had she ignored it for the sake of holding onto his company for just a bit longer?

“Potions,” he mumbled with a shake of his head. “Wore off, I guess.”

Zelda was given no warning when Link decided to stand. His arms shook under him, supporting all his weight. Zelda’s hands hovered by him, unsure of what to do but ready to catch him should he fall–she hoped she would be able to catch him, at least. The skin on his arms was covered with goosebumps despite the sweat and heat of his skin.

Zelda could say in full confidence that he really wasn’t looking good.

“You have an infection.”

He hummed in response.

She watched as he tried and failed to stand up straight. Each time he tried it ended with him leaning all his weight against his arms once more. Instead of letting him continue on for hours or until he collapsed outright, Zelda hooked an arm under his and pulled his weight towards her. When he made no objection to being dragged around by her she positioned his arm around her shoulders.

“Thanks,” he said with a sigh before letting his head drop onto her shoulder.

“This is the second time I’ve had to carry you around like this,” Zelda teased. She took a small step from the table, making sure Link was able to follow her lead. When he was, she took another step. “I’m beginning to think you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Sorry.”

“Just take care of yourself for once, yeah?”

He hummed again. That was the best response Zelda figured she was going to get.

When they were about halfway to the door Link’s legs gave out under him. He swayed to the side and Zelda scrambled to keep a hold on him. When Zelda was able to get him to lean all his weight against her again she took extra care in making sure her grip on him was strong enough.

“Sorry,” Link said again once they were able to resume their shuffle towards the door.

“Let’s just . . . get you to a healer.” Zelda nudged the little guardian away out of fear that Link could trip over it. The guardian skittered away without so much as a beep, watching them in silence.

“Yeah.”

The captains were all standing in the same dining hall they had met in yesterday. The chairs were all in the same places, the cups and plates as well. The maids had been busy elsewhere, no one would fault them for falling behind in cleaning up after two days ago.

Impa and Robbie were there as well, the latter of whom was engaged in an animated conversation that had his hands moving with every other word. That conversation came to an end when the soldier beside Zelda cleared his throat and the five sets of eyes all turned to her at once.

The soldier bowed his head, the rest of his body ram-rod straight. “The Princess, as requested.”

“Thank you.” Captain Ophina waved her hand dismissively at the wrist, not giving the soldier so much as a glance. “You may leave.”

With another quick bow the soldier stood and turned on his heel. The door slammed shut behind him and startled the little guardian, who jumped closer to Zelda’s legs for comfort. Dirt and grim smeared on Zelda’s pants from the guardian’s outer shell. Or, Link’s pants rather, but Zelda had begun to wonder if he ever intended to ask for them back–or if he would even accept them if she tried to give them back. He had never made mention of the borrowed clothes last night…

Zelda gave herself another breath to compose herself before walking over to where everyone stood huddled around the head of the table.

“Apologies for being late,” she said.

“It’s alright.” Impa met Zelda halfway across the table. She threw her arms around Zelda and Zelda was quick to do the same. She squeezed Impa before they both pulled away, but Zelda didn’t miss the small frown that Impa wore. The sheikah leaned to the side, looking over Zelda’s shoulder. “Where’s your knight? I thought he was with you last night.”

“I took Link to the sick ward before coming here. It’s my reason for being so late.”

Impa’s eyes widened a small fraction, but whatever she wanted to say was cut off by Captain Cyrin. Concerned eyes met her own, and Zelda still couldn’t get over the fact they were identical to Link’s.

“Is he alright?” He asked.

Captain Cyrin was dressed in casual wear, his thick armor and formal garb absent. The other captains wore similar loungewear and the only one with a weapon of any sort was Captain Ophina–a two-handed ace that was held on her back by a simple baldric. The two sheikah, however, were dressed for war.

Not even Zelda knew where Impa hid all her knives, or how many there were in total, but she knew they were all on her at that moment.

“The wound on his back seems infected,” Zelda said without making eye contact. “The infection was caused by Ganon’s malice, so I fear he may not be able to fight for quite some time. If he can recover, that is.”

“Malice burns always look worse than they are, Princess,” Captain Asea chimed in. She had leaned forward to rest both of her forearms on the table while she stood. When Zelda looked at her she raised up her right forearm with her elbow still resting on the table. With her other hand she pulled her sleeve down, revealing a dark grey splotch of skin that wrapped around her forearm entirely like a handprint. “Trust me, I’ve seen a few.”

Zelda’s eyes widened. That was a malice scar, the biggest she had seen and far bigger than even Link’s burn. “How long ago did you get it?”

“Three years ago. Lynel bled the pure stuff and some got on me; nearly ate through my bones. Hurt like hell but–” she flourished her hands outwards– “here I am, still alive. Burns take a while to heal but it doesn’t turn people evil, Princess, if that’s your concern.”

“I know it doesn’t!” She came across a bit stronger than she wanted. She cleared her throat, and continued on a bit more even toned. “That’s just an old wives tale to scare children.”

“Actually, in large amounts it has been proven to be able to take control of a host body!” Robbie said then. He had been so quiet that Zelda had almost forgotten he was there. Zelda wished he had kept his mouth shut for longer. “It’s a crazy phenomenon! The host is fully cognizant throughout it, so the mental effects are unknown, but Purah and I theorize that...”

Robbie stopped talking when Impa cleared her throat. She was glaring at him as the weight of his words sunk in around the room. He stood up straight, adjusted his goggles, and cleared his throat. “It would take a few liters of pure malice for this to happen, however. The hero was only exposed to a small handful, so this is of no concern with him. I should have been more specific from the start.”

“You think?” Impa spat out. She tightened her grip on Zelda’s arm, and it was only then that Zelda realized Impa was holding onto her arm in the first place.

Zelda stared at Impa’s fingers curled around her arm for a moment before turning back to see the malice scar on Asea’s arm still held up proudly, like a trophy for the world to see. She had seen scars like that before, but never any that big.

The fingers of the sheikah scientists were often more grey than pink, tainted into an unnatural shade by constant experimentation of the substance. The experimenting had been going on since the malice was discovered, and it was those experiments that ultimately led to Hyrule amending their ties to the sheikah.

Zelda’s attention dropped from the scar when the captain pulled her sleeve back up and set her arm back down on the table. The worry was still there, especially after seeing the condition that Link had been in just minutes ago. But her worry had ebbed away a little and she was letting herself think a little more logically. If it was severe–or dangerous–he would have been in intensive care, or would have been dragged out of her room during the night by nurses.

“He should be fine, Princess,” Cyrin said, breaking his worried silence. “He’s a stubborn thing, he’ll be in fighting condition in no time.”

“He’ll need to be,” Ophina’s voice was grim. “We don’t have much time.”

Right, Zelda had almost forgotten that there was a reason they had called her to meet. She didn’t feel very needed as the room shifted and the conversation was directed towards everyone but her.

“No,” Asea barked out, a sudden anger in her eyes. “We are not sending him or the princess into this!”

Ophina kept her arms crossed against her chest, a deep sigh moving them up and down into a shrug. “We don’t have a choice, Asea. They’re the only ones that stand a chance.”

“Stand a chance?” Asea slammed a hand on the table. “They’ll die out there!”

“Please, let’s be rational,” Cyrin stepped forward, holding his hands up towards them both as he tried to position himself between them as much as possible.

“Be rational?” Asea scoffed out a laugh and pushed herself up with both hands. “He’s your kid! She’s our princess and the last of the royal family if you weren’t aware!”

“I’m aware, and I agree with you. But shouting isn’t helping.”

“Now is not the time to remain calm, captains,” Ophina said in a calm tone. “I have a family that is at risk right now. You both have family at risk as well, if I’m not mistaken. Remaining calm and rational is an insurmountable task.”

“Oh come now, Ophi, don’t act like you’re so high and above us,” Asea laughed, a deadly grin on her face. “You’re wanting to send a couple of children to their death for goddesses’ sake!”

“What else is there to do? These “children” are the only hope we have against this Calamity.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now? You’re mad. You’ve all gone completely mad.”

Zelda cleared her throat, but it went unheard.

“Woah. Pardon me, captains, but let’s all take a chill pill, hmm?” Robbie raised his hand as he spoke, drawing all the outraged attention to him. “Can’t go tearing each other’s throats out before Ganon can, now can we?”

“You stay out of this, sheikah. Your technology turned against us and is what had us backed into this corner in the first place!” Asea jabbed an accusatory finger his way. “For a renowned scientist, your reputation is questionable. Maybe you purposefully programmed the machines to turn on us.”

“Hmm? And why would I do that?”

“Revenge. Against the kingdom that exiled your people all those years ago.”

“That would be quite the feat, wouldn’t it? Though if I had managed the impressive feat of reprogramming an entire army, programming them to try to kill me would be quite the oversight, don’t you agree?”

“Don’t sass–”

“Asea, calm yourself.”

“I am plenty calm, Cyrin!”

“Would anyone mind cuing me in?” Zelda’s voice echoed against the high ceiling. The captains finally fell silent, all eyes falling on her again. Zelda sighed, drawing her arms in around herself. “You’re all running circles around each other and haven’t even told me why.”

Ophina had the decency to at least look sheepish. She bowed her head. “Apologies, this morning has been stressful and I haven’t been of the soundest of minds.”

“Being not of sound mind does not excuse blind accusations towards our own allies, especially ones so severe.” Zelda swept her eyes across the others, and Asea ducked her head when Zelda’s gaze fell on her.

“Sorry,” she muttered, keeping her head down.

“And might someone tell me what has you all so stressed?”

“Hateno tower is back up,” Impa answered without pause.

Hope flared in Zelda’s chest, before extinguishing like a candle snuffed out by the wind. “That’s a good thing, right? The towers aren’t able to repair themselves, someone must have done it.”

“Purah fixed it,” was Impa’s quick answer.

The way she said it made Zelda’s gut wrench. She kept her lips sealed shut, not because she had nothing to say but because she was positive anything she tried to say would come out an unintelligible and frantic mess. Robbie was making an effort not to look at her, instead finding the grain of the table more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“She sent a message to us an hour ago,” Impa continued. “It’s Hateno and Kakariko. The beasts that had taken over the Jia Highlands are beginning to advance on Blatchery Plain. They’re going after the settlements, and they’ll break through the defenses we have in place within an hour of arriving. We have five hours until this happens.”

“...Five hours seems generous,” were the only words that tumbled from Zelda’s mouth–against her will at that.

“The highlands overlook the plain from hundreds of feet up. The only thing between them is a steep drop and a river. There’s no way for Ganon’s troops to reach the bottom in one piece without taking the long way around Dueling Peak. With the pace they’re going now, they’ll reach the wall in anywhere between five and seven hours. Five hours is the worst case scenario.”

“We can’t make it there in time regardless of if it takes them five hours or seven.”

Robbie clicked his tongue and wagged his finger in an exaggerated manner. “With the functional towers we can. The only teleportation connections that are up and groovin’ are the two towers and the Divine Beasts, but that’s more than enough points to get from A to B!”

“But Princess,” Asea cut in before anyone else had a chance to speak, “for all we know this could be a trap laid out by Ganon to draw you to your death. Until you unlock your powers it would be safer for you and your knight to stay here.”

“Did she not come to our aid when we needed it most, powers or not?” Ophina asked, though she didn’t wait for an answer. “If she and the Champions had not come, the Citadel would have been overrun by Ganon before daybreak. Our Princess is not useless, nor a damsel to lock away safely behind barricades and walls.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Asea spat with a sizzling tone. “She is plenty capable, but her life is not one we should be so eager to risk. Even if she was a seasoned warrior, I would hold the same beliefs that this battlefield is no place for her.”

Zelda, not willing to listen to them talk about her as though she was not right there any longer, cleared her throat and raised her chin. When both sets of eyes were on her once more, she said, “I have a duty to my kingdom and to my people and I am not going to turn my back on either of them. I will be joining the fight at Fort Hateno and I will hear no differently.”

Impa grinned, glancing at Zelda out of the corner of her eye, but she kept silent. Robbie had a similar expression, beaming from ear to ear. The captains, however, were a mixed bag. Asea looked at her with pure, unadulterated pity, and Ophina–who had been on the side of her fighting against Ganon–didn’t seem too pleased by Zelda agreeing with her. Only Cyrin was smiling, though it looked forced and sad.

“The Champions will join us as well,” Zelda continued when no objections were raised. “With them piloting their Beasts we stand a greater chance at keeping Ganon’s forces at bay. If the tower is functional then the Champions can retrieve their beasts from the domain and meet us at the fort while Mipha and Sidon catch up.”

“And the soldiers?” Cyrin’s tone wasn’t cold like Ophina’s, nor was it as fiery as Asea’s. It was composed, but the most fearful out of them all.

“The towers can only send so many people at a time,” Impa answered for Zelda. “We don’t have enough time to wait for enough soldiers to come through.”

Zelda had been present the many times that Purah had ranted for hours about the limits imposed on the towers by the sheikah of old. They had hard wired some type of max capacity that Purah couldn’t figure out to overwrite. About six people could use the tower teleportation at once, ten in absolute emergencies. Afterwards it would enter a cooldown, and that cooldown had been the source of many sleepless nights for the scientist.

“Young Master Impa, are you suggesting that the Princess go alone?” Ophina was pale, her eyes wide. “That’s suici–”

“The sheikah are already convening at the fort and there are hundreds of soldiers stationed in the surrounding area who can lend their blade to the cause.” Zelda knew that Impa sounded calmer than she felt. “The princess and her Champions will not be facing Ganon’s army alone.”

The captains all looked as though they wanted to protest. The captains’ reservation about Zelda going without an army at her side was honorable, and Zelda didn’t fault them in the slightest. Yet still, she wished they would set aside their honor for a moment and think of the situation logically.

If the captains insisted on sending their soldiers to the tower, it would take hours for even a hundred of them to make it. With the walk from the tower to the fort taking even more hours at that, it just wouldn’t be wise to hinder their time unnecessarily.

And yet, they were also right. With her father gone, Zelda was the last royal of the goddess’s bloodline. She was a princess in name, but she was queen in the people’s eyes. If she survived, she suspected there would be some sort of coordination and marriage–to one of her childhood suitors most likely, though she hadn’t seen any of them since Ganon’s revival had been prophesied.

If she died, the blood of the goddess would die along with Zelda, and the people would lose their mortal ties to Her.

“Perhaps it would be wise to bring some soldiers alongside us,” Zelda said. There was no harm in four or five soldiers coming with, so long as the extra bodies didn’t fry the tower. “A small squadron, nothing larger.”

“A captain should escort you as well,” Cyrin jumped in before the last word had even left Zelda’s mouth.

“The Princess will have both me and her knight,” Impa said. “She will have a fine “escort” with just the two of us.”

Ophina crossed her arms over her chest, her brow drawn. “There’s no guarantee the Champion will be in any sort of condition to protect her.”

“That’s what I’m there for.”

“This is by no means an insult to your ability, mighty sheikah,” Cyrin held his hands up in front of him, motioning them in a placiting manner, “but one person can only do so much. I . . . we would rest easier if the Princess would allow one of us to join her.”

He swept his hand out in motion to her at her mention, and the eyes all pointed at her once more. They were red beams trained on her heart. A cacophony of beeping, out of tune and out of sync. It grew louder, faster. Louder and faster and louder until–

Zelda drew blood. Her nails cut into her palms and a thin drip of blood trailed down her skin. It hit the floor. Zelda sighed.

Impa bumped their shoulders together and leaned in close to Zelda’s ear. “It’s your decision,” she whispered. “Don’t let them push you around.”

A deep breath in, Zelda steeled herself. A deep breath out, Zelda resolved. She spoke with a tone fitting a princess–or the tone she figured her father would have favored. “Very well, I’ll allow one captain and four soldiers to join us. I do not care who the soldiers are, and I will leave that decision up to whoever will be escorting my guard and I.

“We leave in an hour. I ask that the captain accompanying us and their soldiers are ready by then.”

“I’ll alert the Champions!” Robbie raised his hand and called out. His voice was lacking its usual “spark” of energy. “Vah Ruta is currently undergoing repairs, but we can have it operational before the hour is done.”

“Would you?” Zelda smiled in relief when Robbies nodded. “Thank you. Please tell them to meet me at the Citadel entrance before we depart.”

Robbie grinned–though it didn’t match his eyes–and saluted her. “Right away, your highness.”

He left in a hurry, brushing his shoulder against Impa as he whispered something to her. He was gone before any of his words could reach Zelda, but Impa’s expression told her all she needed to know. Not lingering too much on that, Zelda turned her attention back to the captains. Seeing the captains’ universal relief, Zelda felt herself relax as well.

The feeling was snuffed out when Cyrin cleared his throat and raised his hand level to his head.

“I’ll go.”

“No!”

Zelda bit down on her tongue a moment too late, her shout of desperation already bouncing against the walls. Her outburst startled everyone in the room, even Cyrin. He looked at her with wide eyes, before his face softened.

“Princess,” he began softly–too softly. “I believe I know where you’re coming from, but I’m no special case.”

“You have a child.”

“I have two, and Ophina has five.” He ran a hand through his hand, letting it rest on the back of his neck in an oh-so-familiar way. “All of us have a family. None of us are more expendable than the last. But I’m old. Older than either of them. If anyone should risk their life, it should be the one who has already lived most of it.”

Zelda squeezed her hands into fists at her sides, digging more into the divots her nails had created. The little guardian drew all of her attention. It stared up at her while the tension drew more uncomfortable. It beeped, bumping against her leg. Zelda hoped no more blood dripped from her hands onto the guardian.

“Just...” Zelda’s voice cracked, and she didn’t try to hide it. “Please.’

“You are right about one thing, Gramps.” Asea pushed herself away from the table to stand at her full height. She crossed the distance between herself and Cyrin in two steps. “You’re old. You’ll probably croak on the battlefield before you can even raise your sword!”

“You have also been retired for years, Captain,” Ophina added. “You may have more years of experience out of us three but you are also the most rusty of us. Sending you into battle purposefully would be foolish.”

Asea had her hand pressed against Cyrin’s back, a loose smile on her face. Ophina looked deep in thought, but her words rang true. The captains were on her side, and Zelda felt such a surge of . . . something that she couldn’t stop the giddiness that fluttered in her gut.

Cyrin was the only one who stood opposed to her. He searched her face, a slight desperation in his eyes as they flicked back and forth. “Princess,” his voice urged. “My son will be fighting by your side. Call me selfish, but if I am given a chance to protect him, I will take those chances in a heartbeat. I would take an arrow to the head if it meant saving him from that same fate.”

She fought against the shake in her fingers by burying them in the hem of Link’s shirt–a shirt that Zelda had come to suspect actually belonged to the man standing before her, pleading for her to permit his death. She smeared her blood into the fabric. She didn’t care. It was already red. The only one who would ever know would be her.

“I can’t let you do that, Captain,” Zelda said with as much resolve as she could muster. She liked to think she looked composed, sounded sure of herself and the crown she would soon wear. “Call me selfish, but I lost my father recently, I will have you remember.”

Pain and regret and mourning flashed across the faces of everyone in the room–a subtle recoiling from her blunt acceptance of the facts. She continued without giving them any time to grieve and mask their expressions. “We were not close, but I still mourn for him. I would not wish that pain onto anyone else, especially not my own guard.” She bit into the side of her cheek, holding it between her teeth until it stung. “My own friend.”

They stared at each other, a weak challenge between them. Cyrin was the first to break away. He sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor for a moment before raising it to the ceiling. He muttered something under his breath, his left hand moving in a small circular motion at his side. A prayer to a god that Zelda didn’t recognize. Which could be any of them. She had only been allowed to pray to Hylia. Never another.

He met her eyes again, the fight in him gone, replaced instead with a soft smile. “What would you have me do instead?”

“Stay at the Citadel. Help the injured. And when Fort Hateno is secure you are to hang up your sword and return home to continue your well-earned retirement.”

“Understood.”

“Well,” Impa said after Cyrin’s words had hung in the air long enough for them to fade completely. “We better go start preparing to leave, shouldn’t we? And first thing on the agenda–”

"Actually," Cyrin cut her off. He looked almost unsure of himself, but he smiled at Zelda and her guard regardless. "I was hoping I would be able to speak with the Princess privately, if that is alright."

Impa glared. "I believe the situation has resolved itself already, Captain. A meeting is not necessary."

"It's not about that, mighty sheikah. There is something else I would like to discuss with our Princess away from the ears of others."

"I'm sure whatever it is you must say can be shared between us all."

Zelda brushed Impa’s hand, drawing the sheikah away from her thinly veiled irritation. Smiling, Zelda met Cyrin's eyes and nodded. "Shall we get going then, Captain?"

Impa's eyes did not leave Zelda's back when Cyrin led the Princess out of the dinning hall. The guardian stayed by Impa's feet, it's gaze joining Impa's own.

When the door slammed behind Zelda and the captain, the little guardian did not startle at it this time.

The kitchen had three people in it when they arrived. The cook and maids gave one look at the Captain and the Princess behind him and gathered up their things in a hurry. Within a minute it was just the two of them, surrounded by half-finished pie crusts and pots waiting to be put over a flame. Cyrin waved to the last of the cooks leaving, laughing about something said before he shut the door and his face grew serious.

When he turned to Zelda she had jumped up onto one of the tables. She sat on the edge of it, kicking her feet below her while she twiddled her thumbs. The little guardian sat dangerously close to kicking range, but Zelda was careful not to accidentally repeat that morning.

"How are you feeling today, Princess?" He started, his voice much softer and gentle than Zelda was anticipating.

"Fine," she breathed out. It wasn't a believable lie, not to the captain and certainly not to Zelda.

But the captain did not argue with her, or doubt her at all. He nodded, and remained standing by the door. Cyrin’s form filled the door frame. Broad shoulders on a broad torso on strong legs. His beard was thick and obscured most of his face, leaving only his eyes and pointed brow. He was built like a soldier, built for withstanding blood and battle.

"I'm glad to hear it. I was worried about you, you know," he smiled at her, his lips hiding under the chopped white beard. "Looks like the nurses patched up your ear rather well, too!"

She raised a hand to the bandage wrapped ear. The two stitched felt weird, but not uncomfortable. "They did, and I am eternally grateful to them for it. The nurses also told me it was thanks to that potion you gave me that I did not suffer an infection, so I am grateful to you as well."

"Consider us even, then, Princess," he laughed. "I wanted to thank you for looking after my son. He can be quite the stubborn thing, and hard to read sometimes, but he's really enjoyed being in your guard from what he's told me. So thank you."

"I haven't done anything," Zelda said with a frown. "Until last night I barely even spoke to him."

Last night . . . right. Cyrin didn't comment on it, no one had, but even thinking about it put a heavy weight in Zelda's chest.

There was water dripping from a cloth, each drop splashing into a half-filled bucket placed beneath it. When the dripping became too much Zelda pressed her lips together in a thin line and scraped her teeth against the bottom one.

“Captain Cyrin.”

He gave her a soft smile, one that his beard covered and his eyes showed. “Just Cyrin is fine, Princess. I’m not much of a captain anymore.”

“Speaking of last night...”

“I already know, Princess. Don't worry about it.”

That only made her worry more.

“No, I um." She squeezed her hands together, not relaxing them until the tips of her fingers began to tingle. “It’s just that . . . I know that Link broke a lot of rules last night, but I was the one who asked him to stay with me last night. If you’re going to punish him when we– When we return safely, at least don’t punish him for that. I take full responsibility.”

Cyrin’s smile didn’t falter. “That’s very noble of you, Princess, but Link isn’t going to be punished.”

“Really?” There wasn’t even a hint of a lie in his face, but Zelda’s disbelief made her doubt his words.

He laughed, “Really. Besides, if I wanted to punish him I would have done it when I caught him sneaking out.”

“You knew? ”

“He’s not the silent knight people make him out to be, Princess. His footsteps are enough to wake an entire army.”

“Then why–”

“Sometimes rules need to be broken for the better.”

She faltered. Scrambling for something she sputtered, “So sleeping in the Princess of Hyrule’s bedchambers was for the better?”

Cyrin's eyes widened, and he blinked. His smile didn't lessen, though. “Do you think it was?”

“I don’t understand,” Zelda shot back. “It was a breach of protocol.”

“What’s with the interrogation, Princess? You shouldn’t be so worried about something this small.”

Zelda sighed in exasperation, she didn’t even know where it came from herself. Well, no, that was a lie. It came from freezing water and withheld meals. It came from raised voices and locked doors.

“He’s your son and he disobeyed your orders. Why wouldn’t you punish him?”

The dripping continued. Between each splash of water in the bucket was a full three seconds of silence. Drip, three seconds, drip again.

“Zelda.” Hearing her name, her real name and not the one buried under titles, jolted her. “What does him being my son have anything to do with his punishment?”

“So if he wasn’t your son you would punish him?”

“If he wasn’t my son it wouldn’t be any of my business, Princess,” Cyrin frowned, none of it was directed at Zelda herself. “I’m a retired captain, I have no authority over the discipline of soldiers.”

“So as a father why aren’t you disciplining him, then?”

“Do you want me to punish him?”

“No!” Zelda clamped her mouth shut, embarrassed with how quick she had responded. “No, I don’t.”

Cyrin regarded her for a moment, a deep something in his expression. That same something that had been on Link’s face last night. “As a father I have chosen not to reprimand him because I know what kind of person he is. He’s stupid, and reckless, and loves horses so much I swear he prefers them to people. But he’s also kind, and pressured by the weight of his position, and wouldn’t do anything to risk said position if he didn’t believe it to be important.”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that protocol was broken.”

“Princess, the last damn thing on anyone’s mind is some outdated protocol. If his superiors decide to punish him for anything, it would be for disobeying the nurses and injuring himself even more by refusing to rest.”

"You’re his superior.”

“I’m his father. And he is just a kid.”

“He’s a hero,” came Zelda’s weak response.

“He’s a kid first.”

“Duty has always come first.”

“Not to me.”

The soldier of a man, the man build for fighting and bloodshed and war came towards her. His footsteps were soft against the stone floor, his hands were gentle and caring when they enveloped Zelda’s ripped apart palms.

He cupped the back of Zelda’s head when she fell forward into his chest. He leaned forward so that she would stay seated on the table when she wrapped both her hands into the front of his shirt. He rubbed circles on her back when she sobbed, and hid her face even deeper into the rough fabric.

She was five years old again, held tightly in strong arms with her hands tangled in a bushy beard. Her father would spin around with her in his arms until they laughed so much they felt sick. It was always then that her mother would swoop in, snatching her from her father’s arms with a laugh and covering her giggling face with as many kisses as she could.

She could not remember her father’s smile or her mother’s eyes. The echo of laughter and childish squeals was all that remained of those memories, but the sound of it made her heart ache. Cyrin felt like old memories.

She wanted to run. She wanted to never let go. She wanted him to keep pretending, to keep humoring her. She wanted to push him away and let the ghost of her family rot. She wanted a father.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, kid.”

Zelda gripped him tighter as another sob racked her throat. Distantly she was aware of someone knocking on the door.

Cyrin held onto her still. He picked her up when he walked over to the door, speaking through it to the person on the other side. She curled against his chest when he sat on the floor, assuring her that she had as much time as she needed.

She cried loud enough to scream until her voice no longer could. Cyrin didn’t say a word, only wiped her tears and let her cling on until the moment she was ready to pull away.

"It's alright. You're safe."

Even when she could no longer cry, far too exhausted too, she clung to the father beneath her and broke.

"So, what did he want to talk to you about?"

Zelda ignored Impa's eyes on her, instead turning her head this way and that while she scanned around for the guard assigned to her. "He thanked me for taking care of Link when he got injured during the battle."

"Oh, that was nice of him."

Zelda resisted the urge to mess around with her dress more than she already had, the maids had done a wonderful job at cleaning it and stitching up the tears, but they did not fix the discomfort of actually wearing the dress.

Asea and Ophina were not hard to spot in the spare crowd. They were both engaged in conversation with each other, surrounded by four other soldiers. Zelda assumed they were the guard that the captains had chosen. They all stood strong and resolute, but the anxiety in their movements was obvious to everyone.

As if feeling her staring at them, Asea and Ophina both turned towards her. They waved with a smile, before turning back to each other and ignoring her. Zelda waved back even though she knew they wouldn’t see it. One of the accompanying soldiers waved back to her with a jolt, and Zelda bit back a small laugh.

Asea had been chosen to be the captain to accompany her and it was for the best. Asea was the youngest of the three, but she was the most promising of them. She had been known as the youngest captain in Hyrule’s history–though Link was on course to take that title from her in just a few years if Zelda had to guess.

Speaking of Link, he wasn’t hard to spot either. He was standing by his father, Mipha and Sidon standing opposed to them with their backs to Zelda. Conversation between the four of them looked normal, relaxed.

And Link looked . . . fine. He looked as if that morning in her room hadn’t happened at all. Zelda would have to bug him about it. Later, of course.

There were no other familiar faces that Zelda could spot among the soldiers and maids loitering around the entrance hall. The rest of the Champions had departed already via the tower, the New Champions in tow. The only Champions left were Mipha and Sidon, who were awaiting for work to be finished on Ruta. It still had sheikah darting in and out of it like trails of ants, so there was no telling when they would be ready to ship out.

“Oh keep still, would you?” Impa was still beside her, the little guardian squirming under her arm. It beeped loudly at her.

“It won’t wander off, Imps,” Zelda said with a smile, “you can put it down.”

The sheikah glared down at the little guardian but complied with a grumble. Its claws clicked against the stone floor when it landed, but it did not move any further. It looked at Zelda and tilted its head with a whistle. It turned back towards where Link stood, and then back to her.

And then it raced off, scrambling through the crowds towards Sidon’s legs.

“You little–” Impa shouted, not finishing her curse before taking off after the runaway guardian.

Zelda couldn’t help but laugh as she watched Impa tear through the groups of people and fail to catch the nimble little guardian. It ducked between legs and changed direction without warning, making a show of it all. After a minute and after pushing aside at least ten soldiers, Impa slumped against Zelda in defeat.

“Couldn’t catch it?”

Impa groaned, burying her face in Zelda’s arm. “I think the egg is corrupted by Ganon. We need to dispose of it.”

“And how would you like to go about doing that?”

“Kicking it down a hill.”

A very loud beep echoed through the hall in protest.

“Unfortunately I’m going to have to veto that.”

Impa rotated her head so her face was no longer pressed against skin. “Rude.”

Sensing that it was no longer in danger, the little guardian trotted over to Link and the others with a smug aura emanating off it. It bumped against Mipha’s leg, but the zora didn’t seem to notice–her attention fully on staring up at Sidon, a wide grin across her face.

“Is there something you aren’t telling me?” Zelda questioned without looking over at Impa.

“Purah is heading to the fort.”

The suddenness of Impa’s statement shocked Zelda into a state of stupor. She blinked, eyes fixed on the guardian and the crowd ignoring it. Cyrin laughed at something and threw his arm around Link’s shoulders. Not enough to jostle him, not enough to hurt him. Just enough to make him smile.

She turned to Impa. “What?”

Impa sighed, still leaned against Zelda’s side. “Robbie didn’t tell anyone, but he and I were able to send and receive messages from the Hateno tower. Purah was on the other end the whole time, but after about an hour she sent one last message and went silent.”

“...What did you talk about?”

“Robbie walked her through how he got the guardian shut down signal to work from the Akkala Tower, but Purah wasn’t satisfied with that,” Impa huffed and dragged a hand down her eyes. “She was worried that Hateno tower was too far from the fort for it to work, and she refused to let Ganon get past that wall. Her last message was her goodbye message. She doesn’t expect to return from the fort.”

“Oh, hello,” Mipha’s voice carried through the silence pressed between Impa and Zelda. “It’s good to see you again.” The little guardian whistled back at her, overjoyed to be noticed. it jumped up and down a few times until Mipha got the memo and picked it up.

“sh*t.”

“Language,” Impa tsked. It was an attempt to lighten the air between them. It failed.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“There wasn’t and there isn't much we can do about it. She made her decision, and we just have to hope it doesn’t kill her.”

“I could have ordered us to leave for the fort hours ago if I had known.”

“Her last message was sent an hour before you woke up. Leaving then would have been reckless, leaving now puts her in no more danger than before.”

Zelda bit the inside of her cheek. Her teeth dug into the thin layer of top flesh and tore a small piece off. The subtle tang of metal and blood hit her tongue moments later. She needed to stop doing that before she did some serious damage to something.

“What’s Purah hoping to achieve by throwing herself into the fray?”

The little guardian whistled loudly, pointing a claw towards Impa and Zelda from its view over Mipha’s shoulder. The group turned, and Impa pushed away from Zelda to stand straight.

“She thinks she can use one of her experimental signal boosters to create the same effect.” Impa waved back as Sidon waved both arms at them, a toothy smile blinding them.

“Thinks or knows?” Zelda was forced to lower her voice as the champions and captain began walking closer to her and Impa.

“Hypothesizes,” Impa huffed before plastering on a quick smile. Their company had been interrupted. “Well, fancy meeting you all here.”

“It’s good to see you, my friends!” Sidon replied with more enthusiasm than Zelda thought possible from a single person–especially given the circ*mstances. He started to lean down, arms outstretched, before stopping himself. Instead of addressing his aborted hug he dropped his arms to his side–his grin never diminishing. “It’s been a while since we have spoken!”

Mipha had both arms wrapped around the little guardian, cradling it close to her chest. It seemed content with its spot, only moving to swivel its head towards Zelda. Link stood beside her, and aside from the bags under his eyes the pain from the morning seemed to have gone. The only thing that made Zelda doubt that to be true was Cyrin’s hand on his back, ready to catch him should he fall.

“It has, and it’s good to see you all as well,” Zelda said, trying and failing to match Sidon’s energy. “I heard Vah Ruta was undergoing some quick repairs before departure, I hope that’s going well?”

“Oh, the sheikah just wanted to test Ruta one last time to make sure that their repairs from yesterday functioned correctly.” Mipha drew her lips into a small frown, golden eyes drifting to the sheikah that ran through the hall with armfulls of parts and scrolls. “They have all been working so very hard on returning Ruta to her full glory. I do hope they get some rest.”

“But speaking of Ruta,” Cyrin cut in. He nodded his head towards Mipha and Sidon. “I believe it’s time for you two to set out.”

The zora both glanced over their shoulders to the sheikah standing beside the large doors. They waved upon being noticed, and nodded their heads multiple times towards the exit in an urgent motion.

“Ah, it would seem you’re right, Captain.” Sidon frowned, but wiped his disappointment from his face as quickly as it appeared. “We must have a proper conversation sometime, Princess. I feel as though we have barely spoken!”

“I would love to. I plan to pester you about the history of your Hyrule, if given the chance.”

Sidon laughed, “I shall look forward to it, Princess!” Before anyone else could say anything Sidon had reached down and clasped Cyrin’s free hand between both of his, shaking it. “Captain Cyrin, I must thank you for the wonderful company! I do hope we can talk more when things have calmed down as well.”

“Just Cyrin is fine, Sidon. I’ve known you since the day you hatched, we can cut formalities out of the way,” Cyrin laughed. He pulled his hand from Sidon’s grip and jabbed a finger between the zora. “You two come back safe and in one piece, you hear?”

“It’s a promise,” Mipha responded with a smile. She held out the little guardian to Zelda, who took it without question. The little guardian nestled right into her arms without issue, not making so much as a beep. Mipha’s hand lingered on Zelda’s after the guardian was exchanged. “We just wanted to come by and wish you all the best of luck. Know that no matter what happens, Sidon and I have got your backs.”

“The rest of our friends do as well!” Sidon added on.

Zelda squeezed Mipha’s hand. “Thank you. I wish the best of luck to the two of you as well.”

Mipha patted the little guardian’s head before she stepped back and knit her hands behind her back. Mipha turned her back to Zelda to face Link and Link only. “Link, please be careful. My healing should have gotten rid of the last of the infection, but your wound still has not closed. If you make it worse, my healing may not be enough to repair the damage done.”

Link pursed his lips, but nodded regardless. That was the best response Mipha could hope for, and the zora knew that. She wrapped her arms around the hero, and he didn’t hesitate to return the gesture. They pulled back after just a second, but it seemed to be enough for the two of them. Mipha held both of Link’s hands in her own, much like she had with Zelda and Sidon had done to Cyrin. Zora were very tactile beings.

“I’ll check in on Aryll if I can,” Mipha squeezed their conjoined hands. “Before the battle. I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

“Thank you.” Zelda had never heard so much emotion in Link’s voice before.

It was Cyrin who broke them apart. He nudged Link towards Impa and Zelda and nodded back towards the sheikah at the door–who had been growing ever more impatient. “Alright, enough of the sappy stuff. Out with you two hooligans!”

Sidon flashed a wide grin and a thumbs up while Mipha nodded, letting Link’s hands drop from hers.

“May the Gods be with you!” Sidon shouted as he grabbed Mipha’s arm and pulled her towards the exit.

Cyrin cupped a hand around the side of his mouth, shouting before they could leave, “Mipha! Tell Aryll I’ll be home soon, would you?”

Was Aryll the second kid that Cyrin had mentioned having? Or his wife maybe? Zelda’s eyes fell onto Link. She would have to ask, when things had calmed down.

“Of course!” Mipha responded and the sheikah grabbed both her and Sidon, yanking them out of the Citadel with clear irritation.

The door shut behind them, but the only people to notice their departure was Zelda and the others. The sheikah and soldiers didn’t even pay the Divine Beast outside their doors any notice, their noses buried in preparation for Ganon’s next onslaught.

“Well,” Cyrin said then. He jostled a hand through Link’s hair, the boy’s head moving without resistance back and forth. He stopped assaulting his son’s hair when he continued, “I’ll let you three get to it, then. I’ll just be off, scrubbing some floors.”

He kissed the top of his son's head, muttering a very quick, “I love you, be good," into his hair.

Link let his hands wrap around his dad’s back, fingers curling in his shirt. “I love you too. I will.”

When Cyrin pulled away Link’s hands dropped to his side.

The captain didn't kiss Zelda's head, but he stepped closer to her anyway. Setting a hand on her head, he ruffled her poorly brushed hair up.

"Come home safe, you hear?" He leaned down to whisper.

Prying his hand from her hair, Zelda couldn't help but smile. "Of course."

Chapter 12: Taking the Masks off (Figuratively)

Chapter Text

A sunburnt jawline mocked Kohga. A sun-dotted edge of a cheekbone, the junction between ear and jaw, all revealed for the world to see.

It gave a glimpse of pale skin left out in the sun too long. It showed more of that eye-catching scar, thick and long–trailing down the neck and curling around the bottom of the jaw and up towards the cheek.

It felt scandalous, seeing even a fraction of Spirit’s face.

The birdies hadn’t woken up yet. They were unmoving in rest, tied together in a mess of exhaustion and peace. Fingers tangled in hair, arms pinned under shoulders, legs bent around another to lock it in place. It was a picture of comfort.

It would be so easy for Kohga to move the mask just a little. He wouldn’t wake either of them, and it would take no effort at all to get the rest of the mask to slide off.

His legs ached and his back popped as he stood. His steps were muted by the grass as he crept closer, giving the long extinguished fire and pile of unused twigs a wide berth. The tent shielded the birdie’s faces from the sun that bled red into the sky. His shadow shielded the rest of them.

Their chests rose and fell in tandem, slow and steady. The tips of Kohga’s fingers brushed against wood. The grain was smoother than it looked, if a bit weather-worn. He trailed his hand to hook under the edge of the mask, careful not to let it brush against her face.

Spirit didn’t stir. The mask slid, and covered the fraction of face he wasn’t supposed to see.

With a sigh he made his way back to his spot beside Sooga. He didn’t bother to keep quiet, throwing himself back onto the ground without a care. His own mask sat beside him, right where he left it. He set a hand on it, the polished ceramic familiar under his fingers. He could still feel the chipped wooden grain on his skin.

“Were you tempted?”

Kohga chuckled, not bothering to look at Sooga as the bigger man rose to sit. “Of course I was.”

“And yet you refrained. Why?”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t tell ya.”

Sooga huffed through his nose; half a laugh and half a noise of disapproval. “You’ve gone soft.”

“Always have been.”

The quietness of the morning was off-putting. There was no birdsong, no bugs buzzing by. Just the sound of the stream in the distance and the gentle snores of the birdies. A glance to his side and Kohga saw that his second in command wasn’t doing anything to break the uncomfortable silence.

Sooga had taken his mask off as well, the white ceramic freshly cleaned and sitting in his lap. He’d let his hair down, the tips almost touching the ground. His roots were starting to show and would need to be dyed black again. Kohga wasn’t sure why Sooga was so insistent that he cover up his red roots, but Kohga wasn’t about to question him over something so trivial.

They all had their weird comforts.

With an exaggerated sigh Kohga leaned onto his back, folding his arms under his head. It was later than Kohga wanted it to be. Not quite midday, but nearing it. If the birdies wanted to be somewhere before nightfall they would need to leave soon. Kohga wasn’t about to wake them up, however, they could sleep in as long as they needed. When they left didn’t matter to him, he was just along for the ride.

Sooga cleared his throat, but there were a few seconds before he spoke. Kohga spent that time watching Ghost shift in his sleep, burying his face further into the crook of Spirit’s neck.

“What’s the plan, Master Kohga?”

“I was hoping to see your opinion on it,” Kohga hummed.

“I don’t believe that they are lying about their situation.”

“I’d be a strange thing to lie about.”

The scar dividing Sooga’s face stared at Kohga. A frown pulled against it and bent the skin on the bridge of his nose. Kohga remembered the day that Sooga got that scar like it was yesterday. It was burned in his memory. It was shortly after the late queen passed and a week after the kingdom accused the yiga of poisoning her.

The gerudo had tracked them down for days in an endless sandstorm, backing the yiga into a corner with each step. Exhausted and starved, the yiga barely stood a chance against the well-equipped chieftain and her guard. Sooga took a scimitar to the face protecting Kohga’s back. Kohga wondered if the fiery chieftain still remembers disfiguring the man.

“Accustomed to Calamity or not, they’re going to die out there,” Sooga said after a minute.

“Yeah probably.”

Sooga said nothing more, but he didn’t need to. He made his point clear last night and reminding Kohga of it only made it sink in more. The birdies were in over their heads, and even if they had hatched and learned to fly under the red sky of Calamity, what chance did mere sparrows have against a god?

They didn’t, they’d be roasted like a rotisserie in minutes.

On paper, the idea of fighting back against Ganon was appealing. It gave people hope–heck, it gave Kohga hope. But seeing Ganon’s power firsthand put things in a whole new perspective. It would take the intervention of a god to stand a chance against a fallen one.

The gods of Hyrule had stopped intervening long ago.

“I want to join them.”

Sooga didn’t look surprised by Kohga’s sudden declaration. He regarded him with thinly veiled intrigue. When he looked away from Kohga’s face it was to stare at the birdies once more. “You’d risk your life for these strays?”

“I’ve risked my life for strays before,” Kohga shrugged.

“And you would risk the safety of the clan for them?”

Kohga crossed his legs, bouncing his foot in the air. “No. I wouldn’t ask the yiga clan to follow me into a war for some kids they don’t care for.”

“Are these some kids that you care for, Master Kohga?”

Kohga sighed. He didn’t bother to look at Sooga when he answered, even though he could feel that the man’s eyes had drifted back to him. “You know me.”

“I do,” Sooga replied. Sooga regarded him in silence, before shaking his head. “And you know well that the yiga will follow you no matter what path you take. They’re loyal to a fault. If you told them to kill Ganon, by Din they would try.”

“And you?”

Sooga paused, then set his hand on the face of his mask. “I would follow you into death.”

Kohga kicked his foot in the direction the birdies slept. “If I turned my back on them to save my own skin, what would you do?”

“...I would not agree with your actions, but I would follow.”

“Aw,” Kohga cooed. He sat up, folding his hands on his knees as he pulled them to his chest. “You’ve gone soft for the birdies!”

“They saved your life, and my own as well,” Sooga answered coolly. “Even if we do not understand their alliances or their motives, they have not shown any intention to betray us. Even if they intended for us to be nothing more than death fodder, they were honest about it. We owe them our concern, at the very least.”

“So we’re in agreement then?”

Sooga met his eyes. He held Kohga’s mask out to him, an invitation. “It’s your decision, ultimately.”

Kohga’s fingers hooked around the edges of his mask and he took it into his hands. It fit his face like a glove, the leather strap in the back well worn. When he looked back to Sooga the man had put his own mask on, the deep carve across it a mirror of his scarred skin.

“Looks like the two of us are joining a war.”

An hour later Kohga stood near the edge of camp, watching Sooga heft the last of the leftover logs over his shoulder before tossing them deeper into the woods. The scar tissue on his shoulder and side had hardened overnight, and Kohga had to wonder if the birdies had slipped potion into their dinner provisions.

The campsite had cleaned up well. Spirit and Ghost had both gotten to work erasing their traces from the dirt moments after waking, the yiga had joined in without any prompting. The less their little clearing looked like it had been used as a camp, the better. The yiga knew this well, covering any tracks to keep your skin intact. The birdies knew it too, not needing to be told to erase their lingering presence.

A Hyrule plagued by Ganon for a hundred years. If they truly had grown up in such an environment, Kohga wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were covering their tracks from.

Everything had been cleared, bags had been packed–by that Kohga meant the slate had been crammed full of everything–, and rations of dried fruits and meat had been eaten. The only thing missing was Ghost. Ghost, who hadn’t been seen since the scraps of burnt meat and bloodied bandages were piled into his arms to be dumped in the nearby river.

Spirit was content with fiddling around with the slate in her hands for as long as it took for Ghost to return, not worried by his absence in the slightest. The air between the increasing anxiety that built up around the camp was occupied by the high pitched chimes of the slate. It was repetitive in an uncomfortable way.

Kohga was growing impatient. With a huff he threw both arms into the air, making sure he drew the attention of Spirit and Sooga. When both of them looked up he dropped his arms back down and marched away from camp without a word. He didn’t hear either of them follow, and a heartbeat later the beeps and dings of the slate filled the silence he left behind.

Ghost was quite literally a few steps away. Kohga had thought him to have wandered off, to be halfway down the road waiting for them. He was instead just on the edge of the road, hidden from the camp’s sight by a single tree. His head was turned towards the sky, a purple-ish red hue adorning it that day. Ghost didn’t pay Kohga any attention as the yiga emerged from the brush.

“Get lost, birdie?” Kohga jabbed an elbow into Ghost’s side. “We’re freezing our asses off waiting for you!”

Ghost hummed. Kohga sighed.

He followed the direction of the hollow eyes, staring up at the swirling mess of malice as well. There was a disturbing beauty to it that he didn’t think he would ever get used to. Had the birdies always lived under a reddish sky? Or had Ganon stopped hogging the sky all to himself after a few dozen years?

“It’s going to snow,” Ghost said after a minute, his voice quiet.

Kohga frowned, squinting under his mask as he scrutinized the sky a bit more. While the air was beyond freezing, Kohga didn’t see whatever Ghost was referring to. The kid spoke with so much certainty, however, that Kohga was inclined to believe him.

“And that’s important because...”

“It’s not,” Ghost admitted when prompted. “But Z–” he caught himself, the buzz of an unspoken name sitting on his tongue for a second before he cleared his throat, and the name disappeared with it. “Spirit likes the snow.”

“And you?”

“Too cold.”

“Cheers to that!”

Ghost dropped his head then, but not to meet Kohga’s eyes. He looked beyond Kohga, at the river across from them and the strip of sand their skeletal assailants had ambushed them from. Kohga found himself drawn to Ghost’s mask.

A kestrel, Ghost had called it. Just looked like a bird to Kohga.

“Looks like you birdies are graced with my presence a bit longer!”

“Hylia, spare me,” Ghost snorted.

The birdies had been as grumpy as stals when they first woke up, shuffling around camp with groans and huffs. So Kohga had decided to wait to tell them the good news until they had eaten and tidied up. But even still, they hadn’t been as happy as he thought at news of their permanent allies.

They hadn’t believed him. And even after Kohga and Sooga assured them that they weren’t lying, they had spent minutes telling the yiga all the downsides that would come about with them helping. Possible death, giving their lives for a crown that betrayed them, making a permanent enemy of Ganon, tangling themselves up in the entertainment of the gods. Yadda yadda yadda.

Well Kohga wasn’t fighting for the crown, or the gods. He was fighting for two scraggly birdies that had shown him more compassion than any hylian had in years. It was a very low bar, admittedly, but they had exceeded it nonetheless.

Kohga pressed himself against the side of a tree, folding one hand to cushion his head from the rough bark. The sound of the river was peaceful, the silent tower above it wasn’t. The blue glow of the runes were dull, flickering in and out as though the tower was fighting to breathe. Ganon couldn’t control the towers–didn’t know how–but he could taint them, make them inaccessible, and cut Hyrule off from itself.

“So,” Kohga dragged until Ghost’s ear twitched in acknowledgement. “You gonna fess up about your disappearing act?”

Golden paint and black eyes stared at Kohga. Ghost jerked his head away. “I needed time to myself.”

“Oh?” Kohga leaned forward, his curiosity peaked. “Why's that?”

He snorted, “Why would I tell you?”

“We’re allies, aren’t we?”

“Are we?”

The sickle strapped to Kohga’s side was heavy. It had tugged against something in his chest since Ghost had handed it over to him, handle first. Ordinarily the weapon was a familiar weight in his hand and a comfortable presence on his hip. Now, it was an unanswered question.

For as much trust as the birdies had begun to place in him and Sooga, Kohga didn’t know how they actually felt. He had no way of seeing inside their thoughts, no way of knowing what emotions they hid behind soulless birds.

They had thought about killing the yiga, but they hadn’t. They had wanted to use the yiga as meat shields, but they hadn’t. They had wanted to keep the yiga locked in prison, but they had freed them. They had asked for help, they hadn’t forced it. They had given the yiga their weapons back. They were placing trust in the hands of the yiga and daring them to break it.

“Spirit needed time to herself yesterday to think,” Ghost said when Kohga didn’t have an answer for him. “I needed that time today.”

“Nuh uh! There’s more to it.”

“Well that’s all you’re going to get.”

Kohga scoffed. “You sure are a bastard, you know that?”

He could hear the sh*t-eating grin under Ghost’s mask. “So I’ve been told.”

Spirit and Sooga could be heard in the distance, holding a conversation of their own. It was too far away to discern, but close enough to hear the hisses and clicks of consonants in the lull between Ghost and Kohga. Ghost let their conversation linger as he watched Kohga, waiting for him to decide what to do with it. The silence was an open invitation. The yiga bounced the questions around in his head, sorting through the unending stream of things he wanted to ask and bug the birdies about.

“I don’t believe you’re a self-taught fighter,” Kohga settled on.

“Cause I’m not.”

The ease at which Ghost responded amused Kohga. “So you lied?”

“I said I was self-taught for the most part,” Ghost shrugged. “I had formal training a long time ago, but I barely remember any of it.”

“Barely remember any of it?” Kohga jumped forward from his tree, jabbing a finger at Ghost’s chest. “You were a killing machine with that spear yesterday! If you forgot it then what was that, huh?”

To Kohga’s surprise, Ghost didn’t push his hand away. He let the yiga keep his finger pressed against the leather of his chest plate when he shrugged. “Muscle memory.”

The birdie was barely a man. Unless he had his training as a tot, Kohga couldn’t see why he wouldn’t remember that sort of thing. Kohga ignored all that. He instead rolled his eyes and removed his finger from Ghost’s chest. “You fight like a knight.”

“Do I?” Ghost tilted his head innocently. He didn’t seem at all perturbed by Kohga’s accusation.

“Not a proper one, but the structure is there.”

Ghost hummed. Despite Kohga standing in front of him, Ghost was still looking beyond him. With a grumble, Kohga stepped back to his tree. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and pressed himself back into a comfortable lean.

His own eyes followed the kestrel’s, the swirling mass of Ganon his destination. It thrashed around in the sky, circling above the castle like a mutt guarding its bowl. It looked furious, pacing around its trophy. After failing to gain control of the citadel, Kohga knew Ganon was more than just furious.

The angrier the pig, the harder it hit. They were definitely going to die.

“What were you thinking about?” The birdie turned his head, and Kohga jumped to clarify. “Before the great and powerful Master Kohga graced your company, I mean.”

“My family.”

The earnestness in his words stunned Kohga. He cleared his throat of his immediate desire to gut as much information out of the birdie as possible. “Your old one, or your new one?” He asked, keeping his voice soft and level.

“Old one,” Ghost shrugged. “Being surrounded by all this–” he nodded his head towards Ganon– “is just . . . bringing up a lot of old memories I had forgotten.”

Ghost’s words weighed on Kohga much more than the blade at his side.

“Look birdie, I’m awful with this whole sympathy thing.” That was a lie. Ghost didn't need to know that. “But you want to talk about it?”

Ghost sighed, running a hand through his hair that he had left down to touch his shoulders. His hand remained on the back of his neck, his fingers digging into his scarred skin.

“No.”

“Lame.” Kohga knew better than to pry. Not with something like this. Not with something so personal.

He stood up straight with an exaggerated yawn, stretching both arms above his head. Ghost’s mask was still trained on him, watching Kohga’s every movement. So he didn’t startle when Kohga held out a hand to him, fingers outstretched for Ghost to take.

“Alright, enough of the sappy stuff! Let’s high-tail it out of here before I change my mind about helping you brats.”

Ghost took his hand. Kohga squeezed the fingers resting around his own and let go, turning his back on the birdie before he could start to get more attached. Kohga had a feeling that he was far too late to prevent that. He had always had a habit of collecting kids like shiny little shells.

What were two more?

“I don’t believe you.”

“What about it don’t you believe?”

Sooga huffed in disbelief, staring down at the birdies beside him. “You snuck into the yiga clan hideout three times without being caught?”

“What?” Ghost shrugged, a light laugh in his words. “Like it’s hard?”

“It should be!” Kohga shouted.

“Their security was utterly deplorable,” Spirit said. “If your clan is anything like the one in our time, I would recommend investing in better guards.”

Just as promised, the birdies had begun to trade stories for stories once their feet had hit the road. And just as promised, they were both actually answering the questions that the yiga had. They had their line that they would not cross, of course, but Kohga had discovered where that line was early on. The birdies wouldn’t give any names, wouldn’t talk about their childhood, and they wouldn’t talk about how Ganon was killed.

The last one annoyed Kohga, but he got past it quickly.

Instead, they had answered questions about the rebuilding of Hyrule and the state of its people. They’d spoken in adoration of the races coming together to build over the old kingdom. Spoken in an excited rush about the new settlements that had started to pop up on newly formed trade-routes.

With a little coaxing from the yiga, the birdies had also woven stories of their adventures across the wasteland of their home. And by Din did they have a lot of stories. Escaping a collapsing ruin, sneaking into a lynel herd, stealing treasure from the yiga, creating a “flying machine,” and even scaling death mountain itself just for rare potion ingredients. It was all rather impressive.

It was a good thing that they kept conversation flowing, because without it the gurgling of the river beside them would have driven Kohga mad long ago. The river reminded Kohga of the road they were on. The road they were on that led straight to the village.

Being so close to Kakariko made Kohga’s skin crawl. He’d personally never stepped foot inside the cliff-guarded village, but after inheriting the name Kohga he’d sent his own soldiers to. He wanted to spy on the late Impa and see how the old hag was clinging to life; that’s what he told the yiga when he’d sent them out. In reality, he’d wanted to be the clan leader who wasn’t afraid of their long-since-departed relatives. He wanted to be the yiga who brought the sheikah to their knees.

He could still remember the nausea that had racked him when only one soldier returned a week later, living just long enough to apologize for the failure.

A yiga hadn’t stepped foot inside the village since.

Kohga knew that they weren’t heading for the village, he knew it for a fact. The birdies were honest about the things that lay beyond their line, and they had reassured Kohga that they were heading towards Fort Hateno each time he asked. Still, it didn’t quell the all too familiar nausea that built up in his gut.

A clearing of a throat pulled Kohga from his sheikah filled thoughts. “How’d you two meet?” Spirit asked when Kohga had been given a second to clear his head.

It was a trade. A story for a story. It was the yigas’ turn now.

“Sooga and I?” He hummed, tapping a finger against the chin of his mask. “We go back years and years!”

“He saved my life,” Sooga said at the same time.

Kohga blew a short raspberry and stuck his hands to his hips. “Bit of an exaggeration, if you ask me!”

“I was a child around your age when we met,” Sooga continued, ignoring Kohga’s lackluster attempt to brush it off as nothing. “The caravan I was traveling with abandoned me in the desert without provisions–they didn’t want to deal with a cursed kid anymore.”

Gerudo males were uncommon, not impossible. While in history of old a gerudo male signified the death of the kingdom and rebirth of Ganon, the gerudo had been freed from that curse long ago. The fear stuck around, though. The fear of a baby boy with bright red hair. The fear of a gerudo king set on destruction and power.

Gerudo males weren’t uncommon to find buried in the sands of the desert.

“It was only because of the unearned and selfless kindness that Master Kohga showed me that I am still alive.”

Kohga scoffed, shaking his head. “It was one banana. Hardly anything.”

“You gave me food and a home. That is enough.”

“I just didn’t want to bury some kid’s body that morning! That’s all!” Kohga crossed his arms. His lie didn’t sound convincing, even to his own ears.

Being named Kohga at nineteen had put him in a position of power he hadn’t been nearly mature enough for. Kohga had been young, and stupid, and reckless, and so full of himself he couldn’t see past the end of his nose. He had made many bad decisions and put his people at unnecessary risk. He had been a bad leader for the first few years. He regretted almost everything from that time.

But bringing Sooga to the rest of the clan, giving him a mask of his own, Kohga didn’t regret that for a second. The look of desperation in Sooga’s eyes had haunted his twenty-five year old self, and it still haunted him to this day. Sooga opened the door for Kohga. Opened the door for the birdies keeping pace beside him. Kohga didn’t have the strength to slam that door closed, and even if he did, he never would.

Dueling Peaks was almost behind them before Kohga knew it. When the shadow of the cliffs no longer loomed down from above the openness of the plains greeted them. The roads were barren, which was odd considering how close they were to civilization.

Before they could leave the split mountain behind, the birdies stopped in their path–right at the edge of the peaks. Toes of boots scuffed against the light, the rest of their bodies remained plunged in the shadow of Dueling Peaks. Assuming they would follow, Kohga and Sooga both continued along the road without pause.

They only stopped when after a few steps, neither Ghost or Spirit moved.

“Is something wrong?” Sooga asked over his shoulder.

A deep breath, a deep sigh. “If things align as they did in our past, Ganon’s forces will lay siege to Fort Hateno tonight.” Spirit’s voice was tense, curt. Her hand squeezed Ghost's hand and the fingers that were locked around her own like pieces of a puzzle. He squeezed back in less than a heartbeat. “The princess and her Champions should be there as well. Our friends too.”

“And how did that turn out in your time?” Kohga asked.

“...We’ll tell you after,” Ghost replied. That was as much of an answer as any.

Kohga turned on his heel and stepped towards the birdies. He stood behind them, and with both arms he pushed them square between the shoulders. They stumbled forward, managing to catch themselves before they fell.

They stood fully in the light of the plains, the peaks behind them.

“Then what’s the holdup?” Kohga grinned, skipping forward to meet them in the red sun. “We’ve got a pig to slaughter.”

The birdies still hesitated. They looked between themselves and then between the yiga.

“You two gonna do anything about uh” –Spirit cleared her throat, gesturing with her hand not filled with Ghost’s hand at both the yiga– “all that?”

“All of what?” Kohga looked down at himself, an action mirrored by Sooga.

Two sets of empty eyes glared into Kohga's soul. By Din, what were they dancing around like fools? Was there something wrong with the way Kohga dressed? It wasn’t like he’d had a chance to clean his uniform these past few days, of course it would be dirty.

Oh! Right. The whole yiga thing. Yeah. Kohga knew that.

“How’s this?” Kohga snapped his fingers, and felt no different. He knew it worked when the birdies jerked back in surprise, Ghost’s free hand instinctively jumping to the sword on his back. Kohga grinned wide, a smile that the birdie could now see pulling against a face that was not his. He spoke in a voice younger than his own that belonged to one of the Eastern Post prison guards. “Impressive, no?”

“It is,” Spirit admitted. “But how long can you keep an illusion like that up?”

“Master Kohga is the greatest illusion user in the clan,” Sooga said in a gruff feminine voice. A tall soldier stood in the spot Sooga once had. The metal helmet hung down to cover the woman’s face that Sooga had borrowed for the moment. “He can hold an illusion for months in the right circ*mstance.”

“And in the wrong circ*mstance?” Ghost pressed. While Spirit had relaxed once the smoke had cleared and the illusion had set, Ghost hadn’t. He remained tense, guarded. At least his fingers weren’t hovering over his sword anymore.

Kohga waved his hand, hearing the clack of metal armor that didn’t actually exist. “Plenty enough time for what we need. Don’t get your feathers in a knot, birdies!”

Spirit had taken the bow from her back while Kohga wasn’t looking. She held it limp in her hand, her other hand plucking against the glowing string that spanned it. Kohga found he couldn’t look away from it, and the relaxed comfort of holding the weapon with ease made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“What about the other yiga?” She asked, her ear twitching slightly while Ghost had turned his head completely to look at something behind them. “How long can they hold an illusion?”

“It depends on the situation,” Sooga answered. He hesitated, not seeing whatever had pulled the birdies' attention.

Spirit hummed and nodded her head in half agreement, half acknowledgement of her understanding. She then flicked the bow into proper position, grabbing an arrow from her side and notching it. She pulled the string taut and turned back to face the peaks. She released, and the arrow flew into a bush.

An alarmed shout rang out.

“What if they’re being shot at?” Spirit tilted her head back at the yiga that were now behind her. The bow folded closed in her hand a breath later.

The bush parted abruptly when three “hylians” rushed out of it. One by one they pulled a curved blade from their hip and a burst of smoke washed over each of them, revealing the red eye of the yiga advancing towards them.

Spirit slung the bow back onto the small node of sheikah tech fastened to her baldric. Instead of grabbing the bladesaw fastened in a similar manner to her back, Spirit put a hand on her hip. The yiga at the front of the pack jumped forward, blade aimed for Spirit’s exposed neck.

The yiga froze solid midair. The tip of the scimitar was mere inches from Spirit’s skin–she took a single step back to add to that distance. A yellow sheen flickered around the suspended yiga, growing quicker and quicker until it shattered and the lack of momentum sent the yiga crashing straight down into the dirt.

“Did you just shoot at my yiga?” Kohga asked, dumbfounded, when he pulled his shock away from the yiga on the ground and towards the unarmed birdie at his side.

“I missed,” Spirit shrugged. “On purpose, of course.”

The other two yiga skidded to a stop at seeing their third struggling to push themselves back onto their feet. They kept looking between the slate in Ghost’s hand–the screen still glowing from use–and the yiga standing beside him.

“M-master Kohga!” The shortest of the yiga took a single step forward. “We’ve come to save you!”

“Oh haven’t I taught you anything? Don’t reveal your plan so loudly!” Kohga shouted back. Din above, honestly. “And as you can see–” he gestured to both himself and Sooga– “your glorious leader doesn’t need to be rescued.”

The three yiga looked to be in fine condition, aside from the one still picking themself off the ground. After a moment of pause at Kohga’s words the taller of the two still-standing yiga ran forward and helped the one out of the dirt. The rag-tag bunch said nothing while they kept a tight grip on their weapons. The curved blades were all trained in the birdies’ direction.

“Do you not believe the word of the Master Kohga?” Sooga said coolly, causing all three yiga to startle and two of the blades to lower.

“They–they shot at us!” The taller one accused, jabbing a finger towards Spirit.

“And you’ve been stalking us for two hours,” Ghost bit back.

“So we could see what you were doing with the master!” The dirt-covered yiga pulled themself from the support of the shorter yiga. They raised the tip of their scimitar so that it hovered over Spirit’s chest. “You kidnapped him!”

“Kidnapped? Me?”

“They saved our lives,” Sooga said in tandem with Kohga’s outburst. He grabbed the sickle by the blade, pulling it from the yiga’s grasp and away from Spirit entirely. The yiga jerked back as though burned and stared up at Sooga as he towered above–even in his disguised form. “And they spared yours.”

“Please,” the angry one hissed, “like those twigs could kill us.”

“Who even are these freaks?” The tall one the yiga poofed inches in front of Ghost. They leaned close enough for their masks to touch, and Ghost shoved them back hard enough to inevitably leave a mark. “Ow! What gives?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Kohga wrapped an arm around both Spirit and Ghost’s shoulders, pulling them against his side. “Behold, the new members of the yiga clan!”

“The what?”

“Absolutely not.”

Kohga ignored both Spirit and Ghost. He let go of them to dramatically press the back of his hand against his forehead. “It pains me to say, but your great and inspiring leader nearly met his end at the hands of that disgusting cold-blooded snake of a man that betrayed us. These two were passing by and saved our lives.

“So!” He dropped his hand to his hip. “Sooga and I have made the executive decision to lend these birdies a hand in their quest. Now don’t be rude, you two,” he nudged the side of Spirit’s leg with his foot and nodded his head towards the yiga. “Introduce yourselves.”

“Spirit,” the first of the birdies’ said, albeit begrudgingly. She waved her hand when she spoke, though, so she was at least trying to be sociable with the people she nearly shot.

“Ghost.” He didn’t wave. "Charmed."

The last of the blades were sheathed and the seven masked figures stood in the broad daylight in the middle of the road–or rather, five masked figures and two disguised ones. In any other situation Kohga would have shoved everyone into the shadows and as far from civilization as possible.

But the roads were barren–which, wow, had Kohga mentioned how empty they were already? By Din was it eerie–so there was no need to rush.

The tall one leaned into Ghost’s face again, although not as close as before. They reached a hand towards Spirit’s mask, never looking away from Ghost. “What’s with the lame masks? You look stupid.”

Spirit smacked their hand away. “And you don’t?”

Kohga beamed and placed both hands on his hips. Good, his kids were getting along.

When the short one tapped the handle of Ghost’s spear, presumably asking him about it, Kohga’s attention was pulled away sharply. The angry one tugged against the fabric of his suit, her hand passing through the illusion of metal. He leaned down towards her when she leaned in.

“Master Kohga,” she said in a tone that could barely be considered a whisper. “With all due respect, the last people you trusted betrayed and slaughtered us. How do we know that they–” she jabbed her head to the side, towards the birdies who were otherwise distracted– “won’t do the same?”

After giving it a true, earnest minute of thought, Kohga shrugged. “Guess we don’t.”

“And you’re still deciding to follow their orders?”

“They haven’t ordered either of us to do anything. They gave us a chance to run away from this, but I don’t really want to.”

“You’re senile.” She huffed under her breath, ripping her hand away from Kohga and letting it drop to her side. “You’re going to get us all killed.”

“Probably! But this little deal we’ve struck with the birdies is between them, me, and Sooga only. If any yiga join us, it’s by their own decision.”

“And if I decide not to?” She spat out.

He shrugged, one hand still on his hip. “Then go home.”

“I can’t just go home!” She grabbed onto the front of Kohga’s suit without warning, pulling his face down to her level. She was breathing heavily, trying and failing to contain her rage. “They–” her voice caught, but she cleared her throat and pushed through– “they killed our siblings, Master Kohga. I can’t go home until I see the life drain from that traitor’s eyes.”

“We all want revenge, kid,” Kohga put a hand over her own. He pried her fingers from his suit and grabbed her other one, wrapping both of his hands around hers. “These little birdies–” he nodded his head towards them– “they’re giving us a fighting chance of getting that.”

“You think these weirdos have a chance of slaughtering the pig?” The angry one laughed humorlessly.

“No,” Kohga admitted. He started to say something, but cut himself off before he could even begin. No, Kohga would hang onto that knowledge. For their sake. “The extra hands could help though.”

Her head was turned away from him, the red yiga’s eye laser-focused on Spirit and Ghost. “If you help them fight Ganon, you'll be helping the Princess fight Ganon. You'll be allying the clan to the crown and undoing decades of fighting.”

“Maybe it’s time we put the anger of the past behind us and try to repair things,” Sooga said then, scaring Kohga out of his skin. Kohga had forgotten that his second-in-command had been hovering behind him the whole time. The angry one had too, if her jump was anything to go by.

Kohga played it off with a hum and a wise nod. “It was ten thousand years ago, after all.”

The birdies were listening in, Kohga knew it for fact. Their backs had turned to Kohga throughout their separate exchange with the other yiga, but their attention was fully on Kohga. He could tell by the way they each kept glancing back at them and the way their ears would twitch each time someone began to speak. They did a pretty good job at hiding it, but Kohga could tell. He knew.

When the angry one met Kohga eyes again, she sighed, “There’s more of us, about thirty. They’re hiding in a cave by Zora’s Domain. There’s more bunkered down near Hateno, I don’t know how many.”

“Are they alright?” Kohga rushed to grab her shoulders before he knew what he was doing. “Don’t sugarcoat this, kid.”

She brushed his hands from her shoulders without much force. “I wouldn’t have left them if they weren’t. Few scratches, one of the younger ones has a twisted ankle but can manage. Don’t look at me like that, the three of us are fine too, we aren't hiding anything. I left one of the blademasters in charge, in case you were wondering. One of the older ones.

“Me and the others will go catch them up to your…” she trailed off, almost certainly glancing back at the birdies before sighing, “current situation.”

“Spirit and Ghost are dragging us to Fort Hateno to face Ganon’s army head on right now,” Sooga explained when she let her silent request hang over them.

“Figured,” she grumbled. “They’re either extremely stupid or worryingly aware of what’s happening for them to take the main road.”

The silence of the cliffs washed over them again, the river rumbling steadily. Kohga broke it when he spoke. “What’s that mean?”

“Ganon’s army is leaving the Highlands and flooding the road right now. They’re three hours back from us.” The angry one put a hand on her hip, staring back at the stretch of nothingness behind them. “Bunch of soldiers cleared out the roads a few hours ago when they got the news. One of ours is at the Citadel on the inside, says the Princess is trying to organize an all-out-brawl tonight. Doesn’t want any regular folks caught up in it. All civilians are either halfway to Hateno or bunkered in Kakariko.”

Warmth swelled in Kohga’s chest and he held back the urge to clasp her on the back. “You’ve been keeping things pretty organized during my vacation! Great work, kid!”

“Someone had to,” she huffed, but pride oozed from her voice. She shook her head before she let her ego get to her. “Anyway, we’re going now.”

“Disguise yourselves before you meet us at the fort,” Sooga ordered.

“Obviously.” She had surely rolled her eyes under her mask. With a quick and light whistle the other two yiga stopped their harassment of the birdies, poofing to stand beside her before anyone could blink.

“Aw, are we leaving already?” The tall one whined, draping themself on the angry one's side. “Five more minutes?”

“We’ll be back, we’re just taking a detour.”

“Oh come on, can’t I stay?”

“Don’t argue,” the short one said, his voice quiet but steady.

Grabbing the backs of the uniforms of the two other yiga, the angry one let out a very pointed huff. “Okay we’re leaving. Bye. Don’t die.”

“Hey! You t–” Before Kohga could finish she was gone with the others in tow, vanished in a puff of smoke that filtered through his fingers. “–you too? Wow, couldn’t even let me finish.”

There were two sets of eyes on him, and Kohga gave himself a moment before turning to face them. The birdies were looking at him, watching him, waiting for his word. Sooga remained a sturdy shadow behind him, his attention drawn towards the road where Ganon’s forces were presumably rushing towards them that very second.

“They’ll meet us there,” Kohga said finally.

They continued, and the birdies made no further small talk.

The river rang in Kohga’s ears even when it was too distant to hear. He swore he could hear the beeping of guardians under the flow.

The captain raised his eyebrows, looking up from the letter gripped in his hand. “And you two are the–” he glanced back at the letter, stifling a laugh– “dearest friends he mentions in this I presume?”

“That is correct,” Spirit nodded.

“And you are aware that this letter is not a royal declaration of your permittance to the field, yeah?”

“That is correct,” Spirit repeated in the exact same dull tone.

The captain made a noise that sounded an awful lot like a snort and pushed the letter back into Ghost’s hands. The much shorter hylian had to reach up to take the letter back. “Yeah, not happenin’ kids.”

“It’s got his royal seal on it,” Ghost held the letter back up towards the captain’s face and waved it around. “That’s more than enough proof given the circ*mstances.”

The captain sighed, pinching the freckled bridge of his nose with his gloved fingers. “Look. Even if you are from the same place as the prince–and I do believe you, don’t get me wrong–, I don’t want to be the one who let two otherworldly visitors get themselves killed stupidly, ya’ feel me? This prince o’ yours is gonna be real happy to see you alive and well I’m sure. So go run off to Kakariko while you got the chance.”

“Is that an order, Captain?” Spirit asked slowly.

“S’pose so.”

“Well, with all due respect, Captain, we will have to refuse. This is not our first time on the battlefield, and I think you will find our aid to be more than adequate.” Spirit said in a tone that held the competence of a noble–a royal even. “Ghost and I will be fighting no matter what you decide, I hope you understand. But if you choose to accept the Prince’s seal, we’ll follow your word while we do.

“If not, we’re two unknowns in a situation where you can’t afford too many of those.”

The captain stared at her, wide-eyes, with his mouth slightly agape. His eyes darted towards the disguised yiga hovering behind the birdies, and his expression steeled. He nodded his head towards the two of them and squared back his shoulders.

“You two, what division do you belong to?”

“We don’t,” Sooga answered, much smoother than Kohga ever could. “Byron and I were separated from our squadron during the rise of the Beast and–”

The captain waved his hand back and forth limply and cut Sooga’s practiced explanation off. “Yeah yeah, I don’t need your life story. You’re in the southwest division now.” He jabbed his head towards the birdies. “You two, head north. Prince Sidon will be on board Vah Ruta, so make sure you don’t get shot in half by a stray guardian before you can reunite with your dear Prince.”

He left before anyone had a second to reply. That was . . . surprisingly easier than any of them had been anticipating. Kohga knew their disguises would be foolproof–the yiga were good at what they do, no reason to doubt–but he hadn’t suspected it to go that smoothly. He had expected more of a struggle to convince the captain of their alignment.

The people of Hyrule trusted the masked birdies too quickly. Kohga had no idea if it was thanks to the chaos they were surrounded with that let the birdies slip into trust so easily, or if it was the way they held themselves. Friendly and relaxed, but stubborn and commanding at the same time. They were comfortable in the chaos, and Kohga knew that he felt safer standing beside them during all of this.

Even if they were a little bit weird.

One of the soldiers nearby noticed that the four of them had remained standing in the same spot for a while and waved their arms above their head. When they had gotten all of their attention, they pointed in a very exaggerated manner towards a large group of people loitering around a low stone wall.

“Well,” Ghost set his hand on Kohga’s arm, patting it awkwardly. He looked up to meet Kohga’s eyes–well, the deep brown eyes of the soldier he was impersonating, that is. “Don’t die,” he echoed Irii’s exact words, on purpose Kohga was sure.

Ghost’s hand slipped away from his skin, and the birdies slipped away from reach. Kohga’s fingers couldn’t grasp the fabric of their hoods, and he was reduced to shouting. “What, you’re just leaving now?”

“This was not what we agreed on,” Sooga bit.

“We won’t be far,” Spirit reassured without turning around–though they had at least stopped walking. “When things are done we’ll come find you, I promise.”

The white-knuckle grip Ghost had on Spirit’s hand was a painful reminder that as scared as Kohga was, the fledgelings that had picked him up by the scruff of his neck were even more terrified. They had their backs to him, and even if they faced him he would never see their faces. He could see they were more than scared, though. They were anguished, and Kohga would never know why.

“Alright,” he sighed and dropped his arms to his side. “I trust you.”

And he really did, even if he didn’t know why.

Chapter 13: The Blood of the Goddess

Chapter Text

The tree behind her exploded. Chips of wood slammed against Zelda’s back, but she shook the momentary sting off the bare skin of her shoulders and neck and kept pushing herself to move.

She ducked as a guardian leg swung overhead, the tips of her hair brushed against the living stone and metal. The leg twisted, clawed hand reaching out to grab her but it overextended and clipped the bottom of her dress.

Her hands were firm around the slate when she pulled it away from her chest. Her fingers were steady as she pressed one of the many familiar runes. Her aim was perfect as she aimed the rune and a circular bomb materialized into the air, hitting a large rock at an angle that caused it to roll off in a less than straight path.

It rolled, she ran. When she prayed that she was far enough away she slammed her whole hand back down onto the screen–precision wasn’t necessary for this step. There was an explosion and the sound of a guardian beam misfire, then a crash and a gurgling beep.

Zelda didn’t turn around to confirm what she already knew. The guardian was down for good, it was dead. She kept running with the little guardian trailing behind her the whole way. She could see the fort ahead. It was so close.

A pulsing red eye swiveled around to lock onto her through a parting of trees. Zelda scrambled, turning so hard to the right that she slammed into a thin tree. With no time to recover she shoved herself away. A beam fired off just a few feet away from her and Zelda led the guardian deeper into the maze of green as it gave chase to its missed target.

She caught glimpses out of the corner of her eye of Impa and Link both; weaving through the thick forest that sandwiched the road in much the same way that she was doing. She saw no sign of the captain or her soldiers, but Zelda didn’t expect to.

The four soldiers that had accompanied them had been shot down to two within moments, and the captain was doing everything in her power to make sure those last two soldiers stayed alive. The three of them were busy at the bend of the path, holding off a swarm of stalbeasts that had risen from the ground behind the group before they had even reached the wall. The stals blocked their path back to the tower, and the guardians blocked their path to the plains.

They had been trapped. Zelda wondered if it had been planned.

With the captain and soldiers trying their hardest to make sure the stals didn’t overwhelm them, that left the seven guardians to Zelda, Impa, and Link. Considering they were down to just three guardians already, Zelda figured they were doing pretty well given the circ*mstances.

The guardian on Zelda’s tail was unrelenting. It uprooted trees and it thrashed around, laser focused on keeping Zelda within its sight. She spotted Impa a short distance ahead, ducking and weaving between shots fired from one of the other guardians. Zelda shouted a wordless noise, careful to wait to do so until the laser of "Impa's" guardian entered its cooldown.

Impa met her eyes in an instant, and understood just as quickly. She nodded, and ran off into the forest–away from Zelda and the guardian following her. The guardian following Impa on the other hand tore off into the underbrush after her, ignoring Zelda and her pursuer completely.

Taking an opposite path from Impa, Zelda kept running in an erratic pattern. She lost track of her direction before she knew it, and could only hope all her effort to disorient the guardian so much that it couldn’t tell its up from its down worked.

She banked hard to the left and was face-to-face with the second guardian. Its eye pulsed, glowing brighter as a chiming countdown rang through her ears. She kept running toward it.

When she was just a few meters from slamming into the nearest metal leg something grabbed onto her ankle and pulled her down. Zelda bit her tongue to keep herself from yelling, but Impa’s hand on her mouth would have covered it nonetheless.

She shut her eyes as the guardian fired off a beam, the white hot energy sailing overhead. It shot straight through the head of the guardian that had been chasing Zelda; the guardian flailed about wildly before shooting off frantic haphazard beams of its own. One of the blasts hit the bush beside Zelda, charring it instantly and causing the little guardian to jump in shock. Most of the shots hit their unintentional target, however, and the second guardian adorned three new holes in its hull.

The second guardian stuttered, head turning this way and that. It stalled, then crashed into the ground with one last pathetic whistle. The first guardian followed suit not a moment later–the malice leaking from its gaping head proving to be too much of an issue for its already damaged mechanics to handle. When the last of its internal ticking could be heard, Zelda let loose the muted curse she had been holding back.

“Still in one piece?” Impa laughed. She stood and brushed herself off, extending a dirtied hand out to Zelda with a tight smile. The smile pulled against a new burn that streaked across Impa’s left cheek. It was a straight line, looking almost yellow in the center of it all and an awful red everywhere else.

Zelda took it, and did her best to match Impa’s faux playfulness. “Just barely.”

Another crash rang through the trees from behind them. Impa’s grip on Zelda tightened as she pulled Zelda closer to her, guarding her as they both searched for the source of the noise. An explosion shook the ground seconds later.

The leaves to Zelda’s left shook and parted. An exhausted breathing hobbled out from between them. Link’s eyes lit up when they fell on her and Impa both. He rushed–and stumbled a tad–toward them, sword in one hand and the other hovering over them both in hesitation.

His focus flicked between the two of them erratically, and his grip on his sword kept his knuckles bleeding white. Zelda met his eyes–his tired, pained, scared eyes that just reflected her own emotions back at her–and that was just enough to make him slow down for a moment.

“Is the guardian–”

“Dead,” Link cut Impa off. He looked worse for wear, nothing like the picture perfect knight he had been by her side for months. With his hair a mess that was barely held up by a tie and his face covered in mud and sweat he looked like he had been fighting for hours. Zelda assumed she looked just as bad, or perhaps worse.

With the absence of the guardians all that was left now was the relentless stals. Before Zelda could ask Impa about her burn or make sure Link’s back was still doing fine, the three of them were all taking off into the forest again without so much as a passing word.

The captain had told them to get on the field no matter what; that she and her soldiers didn’t matter, backing the Champions up did. So they ran. They ran with their backs to the stals and the sounds of fighting, away from the splatters of blood and screeches of the undead.

The Divine Beasts shook the ground from the other side of the wall. All four were visible even through the dense canopy and the stone blocked horizon. Medoh was the easiest to spot. It was hovering in circles around the plains, unleashing a lethal blast every few minutes on an unsuspecting horde of guardians. Ruta was closest to the wall and the most stationary out of them all. Mipha had planted Ruta near the wall’s entrance to stand guard, letting the lingering civilians pass between Ruta’s legs to the safety beyond the wall while Mipha herself fought alongside the soldiers in arms. Little did anyone on that side of the wall know, but the “safety” the civilians were running to didn’t exist.

Naboris raced across the field with lightning speed, Rundania skittering behind as though competing in a race. If anyone else were their pilots, Zelda would have found the movements of the two Divine Beasts to be somewhat playful. But Zelda knew Urbosa and Daruk well. She found herself enthralled by their cooperation as Naboris skidded to a stop, slamming a foot down to send guardians flying into the air only to be knocked into the cliff side by Rundania’s tail.

“Almost there,” Impa called back to Link and Zelda both, who had begun to lag behind her. Zelda cursed her low stamina and inability to keep pace–something she was definitely going to improve were she to survive. A second glance to Link made Zelda fear those potions had begun to wear off already.

Zelda slammed into Impa’s chest, her wind knocked out of her. Link managed to stop himself before doing the same, but the little guardian was unable to and tripped right over Impa’s feet. Impa had turned around to face the way they had come, her chest heaving with each breath she took.

Impa shoved the two behind her, raising an arm to shield Link and Zelda from the road they had just traveled.

“Well, what an honor it is to cross paths with the princess of the dying kingdom once more. Oh, apologies. Queen, I meant to say. Congratulations on your sudden promotion.”

Zelda’s head snapped to the source of the voice. Standing there, in the center of the road lined with the bodies of civilians and guardians, was Ganon’s messenger himself. The vessel of Ganon’s power floating above his hand looked . . . different. It was bigger, with malice pouring from its every crevice like water from an overflowing basin. The malice was thicker than water, however; thick like honey or sap.

The little guardian whistled a low tone, hiding itself behind Link’s leg as he gripped his sword tighter. The prophet laughed a deep, bellowing laugh at seeing the three children facing him struggle against their own fear.

“Your Highness, I must thank you for saving me quite the hassle.” He threw his arms out at his side, the corrupted shrine key following the movement. “After all, you’ve brought the whole menagerie right to me!”

The air burst around him, the strong gust causing Impa to take a step back and push Link and Zelda back with her. The little guardian tumbled in the blast, and shook itself off upon gaining its footing once more. Their minor retreat only made the prophet laugh louder. He flicked his right hand, and the orb above his left floated up higher. It shivered, sputtered, and splattered malice on the ground like a sick dog. It kept retching, and the malice kept flowing.

It congealed together, slithering along the ground in misshapen lumps. The lumps split into four, and those four convulsed further. Arms shot out of the malice, writhing arms of undulating anger that tore apart on the ends to form blunt claws.The stringy mass dug its malformed fingers into the ground, pulling itself up and making itself solid. It was only when the malice had fully formed that Zelda realized what they were.

The four blights, the shards of Ganon that had come moments away from ending the lives of the Champions–the shards of Ganon that they had killed already–stared her down. Astor bent his fingers upwards in a fast jerk, and the blights all complied. They were pulled upwards like puppets on a string, their eyes lighting up as runes crackled to life around them.

“Your thread will be cut here, Your Highness. The others will join you shortly.” The prophet closed his fist in a snap.

The first of the blights rushed forward in a flash of lightning. It was the smallest of the four, the most lethal of them by far. Zelda braced for the shock of electricity across her skin; a shock that never came.

Link had broken away from Impa and met the blight halfway with more speed than Zelda thought possible. He strained to hold his sword above his head as the blight bared all its weight down on its bladed arm.

His grip faltered, but before the blight could seize the opening he had twisted his grip on the sword so that it slipped upwards. Despite having no force behind it, the glowing blade of the holy sword carved through the malice of the blight’s shoulder, and the blight screamed out

It rushed backwards in a flash, and in the spot it once had been the fireblight loomed down on Link. He had just enough time to raise an arm to cover his face before the fireblight slammed its clubbed arm down inches in front of him. It missed, but in the dust created the thunderblight rushed Link again. It struck in wide, erratic arcs that Link barely managed to block. Each strike of blade against blade drove Link further and further back.

His eyes looked over his shoulder towards Zelda and Impa. They were wide–fearful–and it was haunting. He jerked his head to the side, and his eyes were torn away from them as the waterblight’s spear whizzed past his ear and caused him to duck.

Impa’s hand was around Zelda’s wrist, and they were moving. They were running towards the now unguarded wall. They were leaving him.

“W-wait!” Zelda pulled against Impa, clawing at her grip with her free hand until her fingers grew numb. “Impa, wait! Please!”

Impa didn’t respond beyond tightening her hand and running faster. They were running away. Zelda was running away. Just as she had been doing in every fight. Just as she had been doing back at the castle. Just as she had been doing from her own destiny.

She was tired of running. By the Goddess she was so, so tired.

The little guardian trailed behind, but its head remained pointed towards Link, just as Zelda’s eyes hadn’t left him. The two of them were the only ones to witness his fumble. They were the only witnesses to watch the hero of Hyrule fall to his knees, a hand gripping towards his back and the other wrapped so tightly around his sword that many would believe it to be fused to his arm.

The windblight pointed its cannon directly at his head, and he looked up to meet it.

Zelda ripped her arm from Impa’s grip and her shoulder screamed out in pain. Impa screamed as well, something that Zelda couldn’t hear over her heart in her ears. She was weightless as she sprinted across the road with the feeling of Impa’s hand around her wrist still lingering on her skin. Her feet tripped and stumbled over rocks and guardian parts but she kept her footing and ran.

The panicked thundering of her heart drowned out her senses and everything around her melted into a blur. The only thing she could see was Link, on the ground and staring death down. Time moved in slow motion, a second for her lasting an eternity outside. She was only distantly aware that she had been screaming–only aware because her throat had closed on itself, too torn and abused to make another sound.

It felt as though there were knives in her legs as she continued to run even though everything yelled at her to stop. The churning nausea spread to her heart when her vision began to swim and she could no longer distinguish between Link and the blights that surrounded him.

Her friend. The only person who felt a similar burden to herself. The only person who could relate in her sorrow. One of the few people she had reached out to not out of duty or status, but out of her own accord. A boy who had a family. A boy who had a father praying for his return home. A boy who had dreams before the sword. A boy she had only become friends with just hours ago.

A boy who was going to die for her.

A stone caught the toe of her sandal, bending it under her foot–breaking it irreparably–and sending her tumbling. In her scramble to keep from falling her adrenaline faltered. Pain. There was pure agony in her lungs as she gasped for breath as though she was drowning. She hit the ground with a shout.

Her hand was lead when she threw it out towards the blur of blue and malice–but it was steady, firm, not a single shake of fear coursing through it. Her eyes watered, her chest burned, her gut twisted. Her fingers were spread out wide while her dirt caked nails dug upwards towards the silent heavens. The home of the gods who turned a blind eye while their children died for them.

Sorrow. Despair. Desperation. Hatred.

Light.

Pain.

The air shattered, as did Zelda.

Then her pain was gone. No sting of breath slicing through her lungs or stabs of pain in her legs. Her chest didn’t rise or fall with her labored breathing. Her heart no longer hammered in her chest, for it had stilled completely. She wondered if she had died. That thought was given no time to take root before a different and new agony seized her entire body.

There were hands wrapping around her limbs, nails digging into her skin and pulling her apart before shoving her back together. The hands began to glow, searing into her skin and glowing brighter. Brighter, brighter still. So bright that Zelda feared she had gone blind, and the rest of her life would be trapped in a perpetual white. The glow dimmed before she could blink and the hundreds of hands grasping at her dress solidified into a single pair.

The hands hovered in front of Zelda, the long fingers twitching with their every breath as if they wanted to reach out to her, but they hesitated. The hands looked soft, but calloused as well. They were the hands of a musician. Long fingers with subtle callouses on the fingers and thumbs. They were hands that had held a harp before, or perhaps a lute.

There was a woman attached to the musician's hands. A woman who towered above Zelda, taller than even Urbosa. Her stature was the least of Zelda’s interest. Long white robes that looked too much like Zelda’s dress to be coincidence hung from the woman’s shoulders. Long golden hair flowed down Her back like a river, reaching down below the woman’s feet. It hung there, dangling below the bare yet clean feet of the woman as if there was no solid surface below Her.

Zelda looked down, and endless emptiness greeted her. She swallowed the sudden fear that bubbled on the back of her tongue. When she looked back up the woman had kneeled before her. Zelda still had to look up to meet the woman’s eyes, craning her neck up as far as it would go to stare into the white, pupil-less eyes that stared back at her.

The calloused fingers hooked under Zelda’s jaw with such a gentleness that Zelda hadn’t even realized the woman’s hands were on her. The woman kept Zelda’s head held up, making the princess feel as though she was being scrutinized. After an eternity of silence the corners of the woman’s mouth turned upwards.

It was the same smile that Zelda had cursed each time she saw it–a fake smile that spoke of emotionless disinterest. Tears began to run down Zelda’s face.

Even now, Hylia wouldn’t truly smile upon her.

“Oh, my dear Zelda. I am so proud.” Hylia’s lips didn’t move, but Her voice filled Zelda’s head. It stamped out anything that had been in there to begin with, all of Zelda’s thoughts and emotions. The tears ran down Zelda’s face faster, she didn’t know why. She only knew Hylia. Only knew the ring of Her voice, the touch of Her skin, and how painful it was to think through Hylia’s overbearing presence.

As soon as that last thought clawed its way into Zelda’s mind Hylia’s presence vanished.

“Ah,” Hylia’s lips parted into a small gasp. Her voice reverberated through the emptiness around them, echoing on forevermore. “I am sorry, I did not intend to overwhelm you so quickly.”

Hylia leaned forward, Her shadow cradling Zelda even more. Her hair fell down around Her, draping onto Zelda and falling into her face. Hylia hummed a light note, brushing Her hair from Zelda’s face while the princess sat frozen in front of the very being who had abandoned her.

Hylia winced, as though burned, and pursed Her lips. “I am so sorry you feel that way, my Flame. I never abandoned you.”

Could she . . . hear Zelda’s thoughts?

“I do hope you do not find it too intrusive. You do not seem in much of a mood to speak.”

It was . . . fine.

Hylia’s hands left Zelda's face. They folded into the Goddess’s lap, fingers knitted together like string. “My dearest flame, you have been fighting for so long. You are so much stronger than you believe.”

Was it over?

“No. There is still fight left in you, is there not?”

Why? Did she have to bleed all the life from her very soul to finally be able to rest? Why did Zelda have to keep fighting? For a goddess who never responded to her cries and pleas? For a goddess who had let so many people die simply because Zelda hadn’t yet proven herself worthy?

“You have always been worthy, my Flame, you have never needed to prove anything to me.” Hylia’s voice shifted. It sounded older, wiser. It sounded like both man and woman, two grandparents talking in unison because the years together made their hearts far too alike to separate. “The years I have spent watching you, unable to aid, have broken my soul beyond repair. If I could have, I would have found you on that day all those years ago when your mother’s Ember joined my own.”

Then why...

“My power has always existed in you, dearest Zelda. I had no control over when you could tap into it. That was up to you to achieve on your own.” The soft–fake, mocking, stone–smile was back on Hylia’s face. She nodded Her head around the void around them. “But I always knew you had it within you.”

Zelda wanted to scoff, but thought that would be an extremely inappropriate thing to do in front of the Goddess. Why did she have to do it alone? The Zelda’s before her all had someone to guide them, to push them in the right direction. Zelda didn’t even have that. Could the almighty Goddess Herself not have spoken to Zelda when she was freezing herself to death at ten years old? Could She not have been Zelda’s guiding hands in her mother’s stead?

“With your powers dormant there was no way I could easily reach you without letting my seal over the Beast slip,” the deep sadness in Hylia’s voice tore Zelda’s heart in two. The sadness that Zelda felt was Hylia’s own, shoved into Zelda’s chest so that Hylia would not need to feel Her remorse–and both of them knew it. “I am sorry.”

Hylia could have reached Zelda after the seal had broken.

“You are correct.”

Why didn’t She?

“I have many reasons,” Hylia’s voice shifted again, becoming deeper. It vibrated the nothingness around them, the commanding voice of a general. “Though I suspect that you may not find any of them acceptable.”

Zelda didn’t doubt that. She didn’t want to hear Hylia’s excuses anyway. She looked down at her hands folded in her lap, untouched by dirt. Her dress was pristine, her sandals were unbroken. She was her perfect self, as seen by Hylia.

So, what? She unlocked her powers and can now speak to Hylia? Was that it? She was supposed to keep fighting even still?

The Goddess grimaced and stood. Her hair rippled in the air behind Her like She was standing against a slow current. It mesmerized Zelda, and she almost didn’t notice the hand held out for her to take. Zelda didn’t move. She stared at Hylia’s outstretched hand with a poorly contained disgust.

“I would like to show you something.”

Zelda didn’t so much as touch Hylia as she pushed herself onto her feet. She wobbled without solid ground underfoot, mesmerized by the way it felt as though she was standing on water. Hylia’s hand did not move. It was still palm up towards Zelda. Waiting. Expecting.

“Do you trust me?”

Not in the slightest.

“Take my hand.”

Zelda did.

And she screamed.

She was on her knees again. There was mud and grass and tears beneath her. It was red. The guardian collapsed in a heap beside her, the moon above, the prayer dress stuck to her skin, and the hand limp in her own, all of it. There was red on her face, it wasn’t hers. He was dead in her arms. His blue eyes that had once held so much life, so much depth that Zelda felt as though she was looking into the sky each time she saw them, were dull. His lips were parted, but no breath passed them.

Was Hylia responsible for this? Had She been the one who had tormented Zelda’s sleep with these awful nightmares?

“I am afraid this is not a nightmare, my Flame.”

Zelda’s head snapped up at Hylia’s voice. The goddess stood only a few feet away, the tips of Her toes brushing against the blood and mud coated master sword. Her expression was that of a statue, soft eyes and tight smile. Her expression didn’t change even as Zelda’s sobs didn’t stop, and the blood between her fingers turned cold.

Hylia didn’t take a single step closer. She remained behind the sword as though it were a wall placed between them. Her radiance–a power that should have been a beacon of hope and joy in the sea of death and despair–felt so utterly wrong that Zelda wanted nothing more than Her to leave. Leave her with the lifeless body of her friend. Leave her with her grief. Leave her alone with this scene until she could convince herself to wake up.

“These are your memories, my Flame.” Hylia said so calmly and happily that Zelda would have gagged if she could have. “Or, perhaps not yours in particular. They are the memories that would have been yours, had things been different.”

The red around them swelled, and Zelda was surrounded on all sides by it. It convulsed and twitched, the malice around her writhing with each passing second. Link was still in her arms, and even if his eyes stared through her lifelessly she grasped for him like a madwoman. She wasn’t content until he was completely pressed against her chest, his legs folded close and not a single part of his body touching the malice that had begun to cover the sky.

It was on her body, however. And it burned. She wanted to scream but found that she couldn’t. She gasped for breath, but nothing came.

Hylia towered above her. The malice hissed and inched away from the goddess, forming a perfect ring around Her feet. None of it dared to touch Her, but Zelda had the feeling that it couldn’t touch Her, even if it wanted to.

“The Zelda of . . . that time and I were very close; one and the same. I shared in her memories for many years, but I never gave her any of mine. She doesn’t remember this particular collection of memories–” Hylia reached a hand out, the malice screaming and shrinking away from her fingers. The malice swarmed together, forming a misshapen face of a pig. Its mouth split at the corners, stretching infinitely open and diving towards Zelda, swallowing her whole. She tensed, and pried her eyes open to find the malice exactly the same as it had been.

“I stole these ones from her,” She whispered, like it was a dark secret She was admitting in complete privacy.

Zelda pulled Link’s head toward her neck, hiding his face from Hylia. Just these memories? Not any others?

“Just the ones of imprisonment, of Him. If I took more I would have taken parts of her very mind with them. I’ve already taken enough memories from those vessels combined, I have no use for any more.”

What did Hylia mean when She said they had been one and the same?

“The Zelda you would have become was the perfect mortal vessel for my soul. You would make a perfect one as well. It’s how it was planned, how We intended things to go.”

No. Oh dear goddesses, no. She couldn’t– Zelda didn’t want–

“Ah, apologies, little Flame, I did not mean to frighten you. You need not worry, I have no use for a mortal vessel in this cycle. I have seen the devastation that causes. I have no intention of repeating a mistake I have already seen the outcome to.” The smile on Hylia's face did not shift. “Perhaps in another ten thousand years I will change my mind.”

Why would Hylia need a mortal vessel?

“Even a god has their limitations, my Zelda. My power is not limitless, as some of my devout children may have you believe. A soul without a body can only do so much. So I give pieces of myself to my children, to my vessels, to put my power to use. With a properly crafted vessel I can place all my pieces inside, and walk among my people as one of them.”

She craned Her neck up to look at the malice that covered the sky like a dome, encasing them entirely. “My Sisters and I came up with a plan to end Demise’s rule for good. They would shape destiny in such a way that it would hone the soul of my children. So that when the day arose that my hold on Ganon would break, I could place myself into the Perfect Vessels, and end the cycle We have perpetuated.

“We overestimated our own abilities. Gods are not known for their humility, my Flame. We became arrogant, believing our power to be absolute.” She stared down at Zelda, but her eyes were focused on the corpse in her arms. “We believed my vessels to be gods as well, and ignored the fact that they themselves are just mortal.”

The malice liquified. It rained down from above and sloshed down from the sides. It engulfed Zelda before she could brace, and when the malice no longer coated her eyes she looked down. Her arms were empty and the sun was bearing down upon her skin. She scrambled, searching the grassy field she now sat on for any sign of the battered body of Link, but he was gone.

All that was left was the goddess, and the shattered castle behind her.

“We have seen our failure, and would like to prevent it.”

How?

“It has already begun. You need not worry yourself with the mistakes of the Gods.”

Zelda scoffed, Hylia did not lose her smile in the slightest. Why did Hylia not try to change the destiny of this other Hyrule then? If She knew how it ended, why let the suffering play out?

“By the time my Sisters and I of that future realized our plan would not work, it was already too late. The tears through our dimensions that your little contraption has created has merged the consciousness of the Gods between the times. It is thanks to this intervention that We learned of our error soon enough to amend it.”

But if the Gods–

“Destiny is not a concrete concept, my Flame. We set Hyrule along a path, but deviations always arise. Your robotic friend is just another one of those.”

…So Hylia shared all the memories of the Hylia from that alternate future?

“We are one and the same. Our consciousness has merged, just as the consciousnesses of the rest of the Gods has combined as well. Once the tears are mended We will separate, and forget that the other ever existed.”

Zelda didn’t want to forget about her friends.

“You will not. Mortal’s minds are not as easily tricked as the minds of Gods are.”

Hylia admitting the Gods had weaknesses that mortals didn’t? Zelda could have laughed.

“It is very funny, is it not?”

They stood on the grassy hill, looking at each other. One stood, towering fifteen feet tall. The other laid, a mere mortal who did not have the strength to stand. One could speak, but did not know what more to say–did not know how to explain their actions to someone who would not agree. The other could not speak, but wanted so desperately to yell and scream that it ate them up inside.

“Once I release you from my mind, you will be back at Fort Hateno. You will be back within Ganon’s reach.”

Zelda couldn’t do it. She couldn’t seal Ganon on her own.

“There is no need for you to do it alone. There is a reason that there are always two vessels created.” Hylia bent over her. She gingerly lifted Zelda’s hand up to Her lips, brushing Her stone smile against the dry skin of the back of Zelda's right hand. When She stood, there was a deep sadness in Her eyes. “But, my Flame, you are so much stronger than you know. Were you alone, like the Zelda I failed, I would still believe in my soul that you would succeed.

“And if you cannot, then our original plan can serve as backup.”

She wasn’t ready.

“My divine inferno, you are.”

The sky crackled and the ground crumbled beneath her. It all gave way to the white emptiness Hylia had first pulled her into. Zelda fell, but she felt as though she was flying.

Hylia floated above her, growing smaller and smaller the faster Zelda plummeted. Despite the distance, Hylira remained clear as day to Zelda. She parted Her smile, giving way for the most emotion Zelda had ever seen on the stone goddess’s face. It was regret, so pure and utterly raw that it unnerved Zelda.

“Please, tell them that I am sorry.”

The light vanished.

Her lungs burned with air. It felt foreign, like she had to manually remind her body how to breathe. She hadn’t been breathing, had she? How long had she been without air? How long had she been without a pulse? She opened her eyes, the darkness blinding to her as she struggled to adjust from the pure white that had filled her sight seconds ago. There were shapes around her, the closest one still a dozen meters back.

Link was there. He was staring at her. His eyes were wide and blue and alive and Zelda wanted to sob. She already was. He didn’t move, even though she desperately wanted him to. She wanted him to run towards her, she wanted him to grab onto her hand so that she could feel his pulse and watch his chest rise and fall with life.

Then he beamed and there were tears in his eyes. “You did it.”

The Goddess’s kiss lingered on her skin. It itched. It glowed. It burned like a match struck under Zelda’s flesh that was consuming her bones and her tendons. It felt good.

Only then did she notice the blights had vanished. Only then did she realize the malice pouring from Astor was gone. Only then did she realize the malice above them had parted, and snowflakes had begun to tap against her burning skin.

“I did it,” she whispered through her sore throat. Her face split with a grin, and she laughed despite the scratch. “I did it!”

“I-Impossible!” The prophet screamed. He screamed like his heart had been torn from his chest and crushed before his eyes. He lurched forward, clawing at the small mounds of malice that remained where the blights had once been. He scrambled, scooping the malice into his arms while he tried to shove it back into his dimmed orb.

Impa’s arms wrapped around Zelda’s shoulders when she threw herself at Zelda, squeezing her tighter than ever before. Impa laughed against her skin, a smile as broad as Zelda’s own and tears in her eyes to match. She reached forward as Zelda laughed again, cupping the sides of Zelda’s face in her dirty hands. They leaned forward at the same time, pressing their foreheads against each others’ so hard it hurt but neither of them cared.

“I knew you could do it. By the Gods, I always did,” Impa half sobbed out, rubbing her thumb against Zelda’s cheek to wipe the tears off. “I always did.”

Another weight slammed against her, and more arms were wrapping around her. Unlike Impa, Link was completely silent as he buried his hands into the fabric of both Zelda’s dress and Impa’s uniform. His breath brushed against Zelda’s arm, and she felt more tears trickle down her cheeks. Impa let go of Zelda’s face to wrap an arm around his shoulders, drawing him in closer with another overjoyed laugh. The sword sat at their feet, and Zelda swore she could almost hear a voice humming off of the blade.

It sounded so much like Hers. She hated it.

“It was supposed to work! You told me it would work!” Astor’s screams drowned out the gentle whisper of the sword, and pulled Zelda from her state of euphoria. She watched the prophet stand, cradling malice in his arms like a child–the orb sat in the middle of all of it. He turned his head to the sky, shock and rage filling his features when he was greeted with snow and not Ganon’s control. “You said it was stronger! You said I would win! Lord Ganon you prom–”

The malice in his arms leaped, surging out to engulf the prophet in a blink. He fell to the ground, writhing under the malice growing over him. Then he collapsed, and the malice soaked into the ground. All that remained was dead grass and not a single sign of the prophet.

No one seemed to care much about it.

Link’s face was still hidden against Zelda’s side. Impa’s hands had moved to let her fingers tangle in both Zelda and Link’s hair, and she showed no sign of letting go of either of them anytime soon. Zelda sighed, ignoring the echoing voice ringing in her ears to press her head on Impa’s shoulder. The sword whispered to her of destiny and fate and a battle still awaiting Zelda beyond the stone wall so close that Zelda could reach a hand out and touch it. But all that could wait. It could all wait just a few more moments.

The captain and her sole surviving soldier arrived in an awe. They spoke of a divine light, a geometric piercing of the heavens. The soldier looked at Zelda like she had sprouted wings, but according to them it had looked as though she had.

The captain and her soldier trailed behind Zelda and the others in a daze. Neither of them speaking, both of them reverent. They didn’t protest when they all stood underneath the belly of Vah Ruta, its pilot unaware of the awakened vessel beneath. Captain Asea only bowed her head as low as she could when Zelda asked her to find and protect Purah.

The hordes parted for Zelda with each step she took, Impa and Link just a single step behind her. Impa had Link supported across her shoulders, the master sword was in Zelda’s hand. The voice in the blade had stopped speaking once Zelda had laid a hand on it, but the sword made no move to reject her touch. Zelda’s other hand was reached out behind her, wrapped around Link and Impa’s already conjoined hands. What a sight the three of them made. A hero succumbed to pain, a protector needing a guiding hand, and their charge leading the way.

Guardians powered down as she passed, stals crumbled to dust at a glance. Heads turned to look at Zelda, whether due to the glowing sword in her hand that she never once raised or the ethereal glow that pooled off her skin like heavy smoke. She felt powerful. She felt useful. She felt like a God.

It was snowing. Zelda liked the snow.

Chapter 14: Hopeful Reunion

Chapter Text

Zelda’s hands were still at her sides, her pulse was calm in her chest. She looked down upon the battlefield–the one where the dead and machines littered the grass and where the living wandered around in a daze. Impa and Link flanked both her sides, the latter looking seconds from collapsing.

Zelda wondered something, and out of curiosity she reached out, brushing her fingers against his and letting a small trickle of her flame pass through their contact. The spark in his eyes renewed and he seemed to stand up straighter. Huh, so that’s what it did.

The sword had told her she could do that, transfer a small amount of her power–of herself–into a vessel. The sword hadn’t specified what it did, but as far as Zelda could guess it had healing properties, or maybe numbing properties.

Flexing her fingers, Zelda felt the burn of power hum from the depths of her bones. She relaxed, letting it fade away and letting the snow chill her skin. There was no fear that her powers would disappear. They were part of her–they were her. She knew how to call upon it and dismiss it without so much as a thought.

How easy it was to forget a time where she didn’t have her powers. The power under her skin had only flared to life two hours ago, but Zelda felt as though it had been part of her very soul since as far back as she could remember. She had worried at first, that she would have to train her powers to make them stronger. That even though she had finally unlocked her gift it still wouldn’t be enough to defeat Ganon.

But her power bent and twisted to her very will. She didn’t know the limits of it, didn’t know what it did, but when she called upon it she somehow understood how to utilize it. It wasn’t the sword’s doing. The voice that had whispered to Zelda had fallen silent when she had handed it back to Link.

Did Link hear the voice? Did he hear the endless statistics? The endless ramblings of duty and gods and half-formed stories of the past? Did the sword talk about things “they” had done together with the same melancholic sadness that it had to Zelda?

When the soldiers below had begun to notice the princess and her guard standing above them, Zelda cleared her throat. “Everyone, hear me now.”

No one spoke, the entire field silent and fixed on the princess standing upon the half destroyed wall.

“With Calamity Ganon fully awakened and his forces on the attack, we stand here, on the threshold of the unthinkable.”

A castle filled with corpses, the sobs of families and friends echoing across the plains in the winter air. They had crossed the threshold long ago. They were neck deep in the unthinkable at that point, but admitting as much would only dampen the resurgence of hope that had swept the troops.

Zelda took a deep breath in, and continued. “We must not give in to defeat. We will not. We will not despair. We will stand and we will fight.”

The clouds parted above. The snow that had been steadily falling and coating the ground in a thin layer of white stopped. Where her spine met her head tingled with warmth, Zelda hoped the weather was Hylia’s doing and not hers.

“Ganon has the guardians and beasts on his side, but Hyrule has an army of its own. We have the Divine Beasts and their Champions. The sword that shall seal the darkness has a Chosen Knight to wield its blade.”

She swept both of her arms out, encasing the horde of soldiers that had gathered beneath her under her embrace. “And Hyrule has you, our brave soldiers! We shall charge with the beasts, we shall pierce with the sword, and we shall strike with you!”

A wave of cheers, starting slow and erupting into a roar of hope. Swords clattered against shields in a thunderous metallic applause. Whistles and wordless shouts sliced through the crowd.

“I have run from my duty for far too long! I have let my people die around me, and have let Calamity Ganon believe himself to have the upperhand. But that ends here!” Zelda let out another tense breath, dropping her left arm to her side and keeping her right raised in front of her. She focused on the pool of warmth cradled in her ribcage, nudging it gently towards and up her arm into the very tips of her fingers. The kiss from Hylia burned to life, the illuminated symbol of her royalty, of her bloodline, shining back at her. There were gasps from the crowd, not out of surprise but out of complete and utter awe.

“With the power I now possess, I will fight for all those within Hyrule; I will seal Ganon away, once and for all!

“You are mine to lead now,” Zelda shouted over the deafening cheers that had punctuated her words. “And I ask of you now to see me not as a queen, nor as a divine! I am angry, and I am determined to save my home and everything within it, just as all of you are. I believe that together, standing in strength, we can topple this empire Ganon is attempting to erect!

“I can lead us to this brighter future, with the gift that flows through my veins!”

Zelda’s pulse stuttered at the noise that vibrated the air. It made her ears ring and her heart swell. There were shouts of her name, a cascading chanting of her many titles that only grew more elaborate with each repeat of the chant. The cries of divinity sat wrong in her chest, for reasons different than before. When the shouting and cheers didn’t quiet down on their own Impa stepped forward and placed a hand on Zelda’s shoulder.

“People of Hyrule,” Zelda continued above the noise, unsure if anyone could even hear her, “today, we begin our march! Hyrule’s fight–to restore all within it–begins here!”

When the soldiers and civilians grew too loud to shout above, Impa led Zelda and Link down from the wall. Zelda let herself be tugged along in a daze–unsure if her weightless dissociation came from the adrenaline filling her veins of the powers of the gods burning her blood. Perhaps both. Very likely both.

There were soldiers waiting for them at the bottom, a Captain that Zelda did not know among them. They all snapped into a bow, faces toward the ground and arms flush against their sides. Zelda waved her hand in dismissal, waiting for them to all stand as she tried to push her heart down from her throat.

But it wouldn’t go down. Her heart kept hammering in her ears. She raised a hand to her chest, and felt the steady and slow beat of her heart. The beat in her ears didn’t match with her own. Her eyes were drawn to where Link stood beside her, the lingering traces of her power still boiling under his skin.

She could . . . she could feel him. The noise of the soldiers and the energy of her speech had made her blind to it before. But now, with him by her side and the world silent around them, it was overbearingly obvious. Zelda had no idea how she would even explain the sensation. She could feel his heartbeat in the base of her skull, she could feel the ache of his back on her own. Images and distant words brushed against the front of her mind.

She somehow knew that if she reached out to them, she could see those stray thoughts in full, hear what he said in his silence.

Part of her wanted to. She wanted to grasp onto the passing memories that Link was unintentionally leaving out in the open for her. She wanted to see how far this connection went, how much more she could see and feel if she trickled even more of her power into him.

Hylia had called her a vessel. Hylia had called him a vessel. Could Zelda–

She quickly whipped her every thought away from him as fast as she could manage, finding the captain and her soldiers infinitely more interesting. Infinitely more ethical.

Gods, what was she thinking?

“Captain,” Zelda began, her voice quivering. She cleared her throat when the Captain’s head jerked up to meet her. “Take Link to Champion Mipha. He requires medical attention.”

She needed him away from her. Just until she could get a hold on . . . whatever her power was doing to her.

The Captain hesitated. He looked like he wanted to argue or question Zelda further, but he did nothing more than nod. “Of course.”

Link was looking at her, not saying a word. Zelda felt almost guilty seeing the sting of confusion and hurt in his eyes, but she brushed it off. She brushed him off, already feeling a small why tapping against her thoughts in a voice that was very much not hers and very much his .

When she said nothing, Link hesitantly followed the captain and her soldiers away from her. The little guardian followed behind, unnaturally quiet as it had been since the moment Zelda unlocked her powers. Zelda didn’t dare to relax until after he had disappeared, and just Impa and a single soldier remained by her side.

Impa looked at her, eyebrows raised and mouth pulled into a thin line. “What was that about? Couple’s squabble?”

“I uh . . . my–” Zelda raised her hands, motioning to herself before dropping them when it only confused Impa further. “Nevermind. I’ll tell you sometime later.”

Unconvinced, Impa didn’t break away from Zelda. She scrutinized her, and Zelda did her best to ignore it. Thankfully that was easy, as one of the soldiers had lingered behind, and given her a reason to turn Impa’s attention elsewhere.

She cleared her throat, leaning around Impa to address the soldier directly. “Excuse me, might I help you with something?”

Impa narrowed her eyes at Zelda, but turned toward the soldier regardless. “Yeah, why’re you still here? The rest of your troop left already.”

The soldiers shuffled, raising a hand to his mess of black hair. “I uh . . . there’s actually something I was hoping I would be able to discuss with you two in private.”

“Oh, of course,” Zelda said. She put a smile on her face, stepping just a hair closer to the soldier. “May I ask for your name?”

“It’s Chad, your Highness.”

“Chad,” Zelda rolled the name on her tongue, holding back a frown. “Interesting, it doesn’t sound very Hylian. Oh, not that I’m critiquing your name! It’s nice!”

“Uh, thank you.” The soldier shuffled again, more tensely than before. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, towards the forest that Zelda had run through not two hours ago. “Would you two mind following me?”

Before Zelda could step forward, Impa put her arm in front of Zelda’s chest. She had her other hand on her hip, her eyebrow co*cked. “Thought you wanted to talk to us in private? Well, we’re alone, aren’t we?”

The soldier’s eyes flicked back and forth, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for an explanation. “Well you see, it’s my whole squadron that wants to speak to you two in private, not just myself. We all . . . saw something while we were fighting. Something that could give us an advantage against Ganon.”

Impa’s arm fell, Zelda’s heart leaped. Something that could be used against Ganon? The two of them locked eyes, neither one sure of what to do. There was no reason to doubt the soldier and their claims. Zelda nodded, and Impa turned back to the soldier.

“Lead the way,” Impa said.

Heading back into the very forest they had been fighting for their lives in was interesting. Zelda brushed her fingers against the charred and splintered remains of a tree, remembering the exact guardian beam that had destroyed it in an effort to hit her instead. The animals of the forest had yet to return, nests remained empty and burrows abandoned. Zelda wondered how long it would take for life to reclaim the home that Ganon had destroyed.

The soldier–Chad–didn’t say much as he led them through the underbrush. He made an occasional comment, even commending Zelda on her speech, but was otherwise fairly quiet. He was a scrawnier knight, still taller than Link but that really was no competition.

So when the sounds of voices parted the forest, Zelda noticed right away. She couldn’t tell how many people were talking, but it was more than one. There was no way for her to discern what was being said, but the voices grew louder with each passing second and each passing step.

The voices were right in front of them, hidden behind a dense grove of trees. They were talking about . . . birds? Or people, maybe. The soldier stepped forward, brushing aside a particularly thick bush and nodding his head toward the noise.

“The others are right over there.”

Zelda made to step through the brush, but Impa stopped her. “I’ll go first,” she whispered. “Something feels weird about this.”

“You think he’s dangerous?”

Impa glared at the soldier for a moment, before shaking her head. “No, weirdly enough. But stay on your toes, just in case.”

Impa stepped through the foliage without her eyes leaving the soldier. After a tense moment she reached a hand back towards Zelda.

She took Impa’s hand after releasing her breath, Chad followed behind just seconds later. The bushes parted into a small area of forest identical to all the others. The only thing that stood out were the three soldiers idling around, waiting for them.

The tallest one was a woman with a helmet that obscured her face; she stared straight at Zelda as she emerged. The shortest was a man with short blonde hair and deep brown eyes. He was fiddling with a dented shield in his hands, completely unaware of the new arrivals. The third was another man, plainly average in every way. He was pacing in a circle, one hand on his chin and the other wrapped around his gut.

Chad the soldier cleared his throat, and the pacing soldier stopped. All three pairs of eyes stared at them, a range of emotions across their faces.

“Princess, I must thank you for joining us!” The plain soldier said happily. “We have much to discuss.”

“You saw something,” Impa was standing between Zelda and the others, her hand within a hair's reach of her blade. “Something that we can use against Ganon?”

“Ah, yes,” the soldier beamed wider. “Something you can use against Ganon indeed! We are, of course, referring to none other than...”

He trailed off, leaving them in a moment of suspense before he clasped his hands together and smoke erupted around him. Impa drew her blade in an instant, and Zelda stepped back. One by one a burst of smoke covered the three remaining soldiers, including Chad. When the smoke cleared, Impa and Zelda were surrounded by Master Kohga and his yiga. Impa raised her blade to shield Zelda, but faltered when all the yiga dropped to their knees.

“Master Kohga and his loyal clan of yiga.” Kohga pressed his hands into the dirt, placing his masked face on top of them as he bowed as deeply as possible. “On behalf of the whole yiga clan I, Master Kohga, would like to apologize for our crimes against you and the kingdom. We have harbored a hatred for Hyrule for ten thousand years, and only now have we realized this hatred burned out long ago. Forgive us, your Highness.”

“It’s a trap,” Impa hissed, but the confusion was clear even in her voice.

Zelda waved for Impa to stand down, which she did–begrudgingly–but did not sheath her blade.

Zelda stepped forward, so that her feet were a few inches from Kohga’s hands. “You are no longer loyal to Ganon?”

Kohga scoffed, “The pig betrayed us, your highness. He and his servent murdered my people in front of my own eyes. He nearly took the life of my second in command. We want revenge.”

Kohga raised her head from the dirt, the downturned eye of the yiga staring into Zelda’s heart. “Enemy of my enemy is my friend, your highness. With you willing, we’d love to add a few hundred more faces to Hyrule’s army.”

Zelda’s eyes widened. “You want to pledge yourselves to Hyrule?”

“Absolutely not,” Impa jumped in. “They have murdered countless soldiers in the name of Ganon!”

“And you have murdered countless of my yiga in the name of the Goddess,” Kohga aruged back, a poorly constrained anger in his voice. He calmed himself with a clear of his throat. “We deeply regret ever allying ourselves to Ganon, your highness, and we know we have wronged Hyrule many times in the past, but we want to amend that.”

Zelda took in the yiga around her. Their palms were buried in the dirt, their blades were discarded at their sides. They were entirely vulnerable.

“What are you wanting in exchange for your allyship?” She asked.

“Just to see that pig torn to shreds once and for all.”

Zelda smiled, and held out a hand for the leader of the yiga to take. “I believe I can arrange that.”

He was much more gentle than she expected. He cupped her hand in both of his, bringing her hand to his forehead. They sat there for a moment, before he let go of her hand and bowed his head again. “Pleasure to be in your service.”

“I can’t believe this,” Impa muttered. She sheathed his blade, grabbing onto Zelda’s arm. “Are you sure, Zelda?”

“They seem earnest, and we could use all the extra hands that we can get,”

Impa released her hold on Zelda only after she had stared at her in silence for longer than comfortable. She sighed, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Zelda watched Kohga’s second in command–Sooga, she believed his name to be–help lift his master back to his feet. “I do too.”

Kohga raised his arms above his head, launching into a series of exaggerated stretches complete with over the top grunting. “Din, am I glad to be out of the illusion; been holding that thing for hours! How are my lackeys holding up?”

Chad–Zelda wondered if that was even his real name–rolled his shoulder and hissed in pain. “Sore. Took a guardian leg to the back out there.”

Out there. They had been on the battlefield? They had been fighting alongside Hyrule’s soldiers without anyone knowing? She must have made some sort of face, because Kohga laughed when he looked at her.

“Don’t be so shocked, Princess! Some little birdies told us you’d need help on the field, so my yiga disguised themselves as your soldiers to lend a hand. Don’t beat yourselves up for not noticing, we aren’t called the masters of illusion for nothing!”

“How many of you are there?” Impa asked in disbelief. Zelda knew what kind of mental battle she was having with herself right now. Impa despised the yiga for tarnishing her clan’s name, and to find out she had fought alongside them, ordered her own people to protect the yiga, of course that would be upsetting.

Kohga raised a hand, counting on his fingers in a way that made no sense. Sooga sighed, pushing Kohga’s hands down. “Just under three hundred.”

Three hundred.

“Total?” Impa squeaked out.

“Total.”

Zelda bit her tongue, trying not to voice her shock. Impa stared at the yiga, bug-eyed, as she tried to do the same. How . . . how many yiga had Astor killed for the yiga to go from having thousands of members to just three hundred?

Kohga was quick to change the understandably touchy topic. He put both hands on his hips and tsked once. “Just like them to not show up. Say–” he snapped his fingers, pointing toward Zelda– “you two wouldn’t have happened to see two little birdies on the field while you were fighting did you? Or . . . I guess not. It would’ve been hard to see through all that light you were making. Congrats, by the way!”

“Uh, thank you.”

“Birdies?” Impa said under her breath, looking at Zelda for clarification. Zelda had nothing.

Kohga nodded in a very enthusiastic manner. “Yeah. Two scrawny little things, weird looking masks, sheikah slate, say they’re from the future. Ring a bell?”

Impa and Zelda both froze at the same time the fourth yiga–the one who hadn’t spoken a word up until then–whipped around in a flash. “They’re what?”

“Oh, don’t tell them I think their masks are weird.”

“Not that you oaf!” The younger yiga shouted.

“How far into the future did they say they were, by chance?” Zelda choked out, not missing the baffled look of Impa beside her.

“Hundred years,” Kohga said. “Fell through a glowing gate from their time into ours. Good friends of the fish prince, apparently.”

The second signal.

“So this is just–” the young yiga fumbled with their hands– “normal? We’re just saying this is normal now. Yeah, alright, cool. f*ck that.”

“Do you know where they are?” Zelda jumped over her words in excitement, leaning toward Kohga as she spoke.

“Hey, that’s what I was asking you!” Kohga shouted back at her, but he shook his head still. He clenched one of his hands, twisting the fabric of his uniform so tight Zelda thought it would rip. “I don’t know. They said they’d find us after things settled.”

“Did you know about this?” The fourth yiga jabbed a finger at Chad, who raised his hands to his chest and shook his head.

“Kid,” Kohga’s second in command–who Zelda was almost certain was called Sooga–placed a hand on the younger yiga’s shoulder. “We will discuss this later. Calm your outbursts, you’re drawing attention.”

The young yiga scoffed, crossing her arms. “What atten . . . tion.”

The leaves behind Zelda rusted, and she turned towards them just as they parted. Captain Asea and three soldiers stared blankly back.

“That attention.”

Kohga waved, and that snapped the soldiers out of their stupor. Asea burst forward, drawing her blade with one hand and shielding Impa and Zelda both with her other. The soldiers followed suit, pinning the yiga beneath blade and arrow alike.

Bad first impressions.

“Captain, stand down.” Zelda reached forward to push down on Asea’s blade, but it would not budge. “They’re on our side now,” she urged.

“Princess,” she kept his sword raised, not lowering it even an inch when turned to look at her, “are you sure?”

Zelda said nothing, she didn’t need to. The little bit of defiance hidden under the Captain’s caution fizzled out, and she sighed. She sheathed her sword, waving her hand lazily for the others to do the same. The soldiers all looked between themselves in confusion, but complied nonetheless.

“Princess, what’s the meaning of this?” Asea hissed between her teeth, lowering herself down to speak more directly to Zelda.

“The yiga have agreed to a peace between their clan and Hyrule. They’ve allied themselves to the crown,” Impa answered for her.

Asea sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Hylia be damned,” she muttered after a minute.

Oh believe her, Zelda could relate.

“Would you mind letting the other captains and Champions know?” Zelda asked. “There are a few hundred yiga disguised as soldiers on the field right now, and I don’t think they can hold their illusion indefinitely.”

The captain snorted, shaking her head a little. “I thought there were more soldiers than I remembered. Yeah, I can do that for you, Princess. But first, Purah wanted me to grab you and send you her way.”

“Purah?” Impa shot forward, grabbing onto the Captain’s hand suddenly. “She’s alive? She’s okay?”

The Captain smiled and pried Impa’s hand off of her. “Yes, the sheikah scientist is alive and well. She’s near the remains of the northern lab.”

Impa looked on the verge of tears. Zelda grabbed her hands–still hovering by the Captain–and squeezed them. Impa squeezed back with a grin.

“Were my birdies there?”

Zelda jerked, not expecting Kohga to be so close to her. He had poofed to her side without her knowing and had almost given her a heart attack.

“The weirdos with the masks?” The Captain scrunched her face. “Yeah, they were there. The sheikah scientist was lecturing them about something when I left to fetch the Princess.”

Perfect, kill two birds with one stone. Or . . . maybe that was the wrong figure of speech.

Kohga hopped forward on the balls on his feet. He pranced past Zelda and back towards the path the soldiers had carved through the bushes. "Chad, you’re in charge! Take the kid and go with the Captain. I’ve got some birdies to catch!”

“Master Koga, wait–” the youngest yiga reached out, but he was already gone. She groaned, throwing her arm back down. “Senile old man.”

Sooga said nothing, nor did he acknowledge the other two yiga at all. He held the branches aside, stepping clear of the path and bowing his head. Asea glared at the bigger man but held her tongue.

“Thank you, Captain,” Zelda called out as she pulled herself and Impa towards the opening Sooga had created. “Please, treat our new allies fairly.”

A terse nod was the last thing Zelda saw before Sooga stepped between them, and she was ushered back to the plains.

The reactions to seeing the yiga walking alongside Zelda were a mixed bag. When Captain Asea had stood on the wall to announce the recent alliance and seconds later the disguised yiga all revealed themselves in a burst of smoke that covered the plains, that had garnered even more mixed reactions. A few soldiers drew weapons on their red clothed allies, a few slapped them on the back and laughed, a few passed money between themselves.

The captains all did a great job at maintaining order amongst their troops, but the few squabbles that had begun to rise up were silenced at seeing their princess. She would have to give another speech clearing things up, and she wasn’t looking forward to that again.

The most important thing was that no one was attacking anyone. That was good. That was great, even.

She tensed when they passed the poor excuse for a medical tent. The tattered fabric they had borrowed from the stable a few kilometers over did a good enough job at keeping the snow out and off the patients, but a poor job at providing any decency. Zelda looked away, thought not to save herself from glimpsing a bare back or chest–of which there were many visible through the torn tent.

She couldn’t feel him anymore. Zelda almost didn’t want to risk that connection reigniting by loitering around for too long. So she didn’t. She paid no mind to the medical tent and her friend inside.

The lab came into view sooner than Zelda expected. The captain was right in calling it the “remains,” though. The Blatchery Plains lab had always been the smallest of the labs spread across Hyrule. It was really only used by a sheikah or two at a time, mostly to study the flora and fungi of the surrounding area.

There had been many diagrams and notes about plants and mushrooms that Zelda had found fascinating on her short visit to the lab all those years ago. They had coated every wall of the two room laboratory.

The lab looked so much smaller with the roof completely gone. Zelda doubted any of the diagrams survived. One of the walls was missing too, but all the important equipment looked to be intact. Most importantly, Purah looked to be intact.

She was standing near the center of the lab, clear as day thanks to the lack of an eastern wall. There was a half broken table in front of her that she was leaning most of her weight against, burned and torn papers pressed under her arms.

Impa was ahead of the others in a heartbeat. Purah had no time to even turn around before she was knocked down to the ground, her younger sister on top of her. They were crying, Impa babbling out words that Zelda couldn’t understand but that made Purah laugh.

“Woah, easy little rabbit,” Purah choked out, squeezing her arms around Impa’s shoulders. “You think I’d let myself die so easily?”

The rubble under her feet was deep. Zelda had to hold onto the ends of her prayer dress as she stepped over and around most of it. When she began to fall, a hand on her back held her upright. Sooga said nothing while he let her regain her footing and removed his hand from her.

Neither yiga spoke while the three of them stood in the hole in the wall. For that, Zelda was grateful. As boisterous as the leader of the yiga was, he at least had basic decency.

Purah sat up as much as she could while she was still held captive in Impa’s chokehold of a hug. She looked up to Zelda with a playful grin. “Congrats on your powers, Zeldy.”

“Thank you,” Zelda answered, a genuine smile on her face as her eyes began to burn all over again.

Purah looked more alive than ever, the light in her eyes that had been fading the longer she had stressed under the threat of the Calamity was back, brighter than ever. Her cheeks were flushed with color, not the pale and sickly hue they had taken on in the past months.

That all vanished when she set her sights on the yiga beside Zelda. Or rather, the place of someone else that they were occupying. “Where’s Link? Tell me he’s not…”

Dead hung in the air.

“He’s with the medics.” Zelda wasn’t tormented with the other Zelda’s memories at mention of his demise, but the knowledge of their existence sat in the back of her head. It did not make her stomach churn to think about the corpse in her arms, but it made her skin crawl. “He suffered a malice burn at the citadel and hasn't had time to heal properly.”

His presence still thrummed in Zelda's power, stronger than ever. It was so strong, in fact, that it felt like three beats were hammering in her chest. A garbled string of thoughts and memories brushed against Zelda, so foreign and so unexpected that she didn't hesitate to reach for them. A candle-lit study filled her memories, a disarray of schematics littered in front of her. There was someone pressed against her side, asleep. She turned to look at them, and the memory was ripped away from her. The feeling of another presence faded completely.

What was that about?

“Ah. Good,” Purah sighed. She pulled one of her hands away from Impa, waving it flippantly towards Zelda. “What’s with the new entourage?”

“Oh, the yiga are–”

“They’re with us,” a voice called out from the room to Zelda’s left and cut her off.

Zelda had to crane her head around the corner to see them. Two cloaked figures, one of them holding a large . . . something in their hands–a large something that looked suspiciously like one of the experimental weapons in Robbie’s personal lab.

“They’re harmless,” the second one said, earning a huff of indignation from Kohga.

“Hey, birdies! I risked my butt out there for you and this is the thanks I get?”

They ignored him.

The one with the mechanical object lifted the device above their head, fastening it to their back– somehow –before they stepped over a drained power cell that sat shattered on the ground. The other one was close behind, a sheikah slate strapped to their belt.

Two more people from the future. And not just any people, hylians from the future. They were both wearing a mask of some sort–most likely where Kohga’s weird nickname for them came from–, did all hylians wear masks in the future? Was it for protection? Perhaps a guard against some sort of airborne calamity. Or a tool used to block guardian scanners.

“You’re Sidon’s friends?” Zelda blurted, because that was better than launching into an endless ramble about her fascination with their future.

The one in green turned, almost startled. They said nothing, but nodded after a moment.

Ah, that’s why they were called birdies, Zelda’s theory was right. Their masks looked like birds.

Now that both of them were looking at her she could see it better. Gold strokes and patches formed the hand-painted bird faces on the wooden surface that had been coated in white. The eyes were cut out of the masks, but Zelda couldn’t see anything behind them. Given the lighting, she should’ve been able to see their real eyes peering back at her through the holes, but an empty black greeted her.

The one dressed in blue raised a hand to their mask, brushing a finger against the right eye. “There’s fabric attached underneath, it protects the eyes . . . keeps us warm.”

Was her curiosity really that obvious? Zelda felt her face flush.

The addition of the new hylians from the future had Impa finally letting go of Purah. She helped her sister onto her feet, but kept a wary eye pointed towards the two hylians all the while.

When Purah had finished brushing the dust off herself and reaching over to fix Impa’s shirt, she gestured toward the “birdies” as though they were trophies.

“Zeldy, Imps, I’d like to introduce you to Spirit and Ghost–” they each waved at the mention of their names. “They helped me to get my Guardian Shutdown 2.0 working before someone had to go unlock her powers and render all my hard work useless!”

“It’s still a good backup to have,” Spirit assured. “It’s not useless.”

“Oh!” Purah flicked her hand, smacking Spirit’s arm with the back of it. “Don’t you try to get on my good side! I know you two have ulterior motives.”

“As if you wouldn’t do it anyway,” Ghost mumbled.

“Do . . . what exactly?” Impa asked, her voice still rough with tears.

“Help them snap –” Purah snapped her fingers for emphasis– “back home, of course. You think the Goddess is gonna send them back? As if! That responsibility has been dumped into my capable lap.”

Zelda had forgotten about that. She looked down toward her feet, expecting to see the little guardian and forgetting that it had left when she had shooed Link away. Purah would want to take a look at it, perhaps she would be able to figure out how to reverse engineer its time bending capabilities.

“You’re leaving us already?” Kohga cried. He grabbed onto Ghost’s shoulders, shaking him back and forth a bit. “You could stay here! You don’t have to go back to that wasteland, you could live at the yiga hideout for as long as you want!”

“Cool your jets there, banana man!” Purah put a hand on her hip, gesturing with her hand to the mess on the tables behind her. “It’ll be a long time before I’m able to crack this mystery open. It could be months before any of them can return home.”

“But,” Zelda hesitated, watching Spirit watch her. “You will be able to send them back, won’t you?”

“Of course I will!” Purah puffed out her chest. “Do you even know who you’re talking to, Zeldy?”

It was just a few months. They could defeat Ganon before then. No. They would defeat Ganon before then. Zelda would be sure of it. She would protect them, make sure they survived. Then they would go home.

Or . . . they could stay, if they so chose to. If– When Ganon is defeated, Hyrule would return to peace. There would be more than enough room for the New Champions to live, to make a new home. They’d be away from the devastation they spoke of. Away from the ruins of civilization.

“Dearest friends!”

Sidon’s booming voice cut Zelda’s thoughts off instantly. He barreled past her and the yiga, practically tackling the two hylians to the ground. They grunted in surprise, having no time to register the large red zora crushing them in a hug before they were being lifted off their feet to dangle in the air. He spun them around, crushing them against his chest like ragdolls.

“Oh it is so nice to see you two again! Just wait until Teba learns you’re here, he’ll be overjoyed!”

A high whistle sounded near Zelda’s feet, and she smiled at seeing the little guardian back by her side. It wiggled in place, pointing at Sidon repeatedly with a shrill beep each time. Zelda laughed, bending down to pluck it off the ground and into her arms. It hurt her already sore arms to hold it, but she didn’t mind.

“My, that little thing is quite worked up about something,” Mipha said as she stepped through the remains of the collapsed wall. Link was beside her. Zelda had to actively reach out to feel his heart thrum in her chest or his fingers twitch in her muscles. It was weaker now. Weaker now that he was beside her, weaker than it had been when they had been nowhere near each other.

Perhaps it was fading.

The little guardian whistled, thrashing in Zelda’s arms while it continued to point up at Sidon and the masked hylians. She rolled her eyes, smacking it on the eye with a light flick of her wrist. If it threw a fit at every new person they met, Zelda would throw a fit herself.

She met Link’s eyes when he and Mipha stopped beside her. Mipha was between the two of them, unaware of the uncomfortable tension she was blocking.

“Better?” Zelda mouthed.

He nodded, but still he looked at her in confusion. “You?”

Of course he noticed. If Impa had, he would too. She sighed, “I’ll explain later.”

He nodded. Zelda would try to honor this promise, unlike the many she had not.

“Prince Sidon,” Purah’s voice pulled both Zelda and Link away from each other. “You’re going to crush Spirit and Ghost if you aren’t careful.”

Sidon stared at her without any semblance of understanding. Purah rolled her eyes, gesturing down. Frowning, Sidon looked down–the two hylians looking back up at him. Zelda watched the gears turn in his head and his face light up when they clunked into place.

“Oh! Yes, of course! My apologies.”

He set the two of them down, patting the tops of their heads in a sort of apology. There was a silent question on the prince’s face, but his tail wagged behind him despite it. His smile was bright enough to distract Zelda from the weird, almost uncomfortable exchange that had just happened between her and Link.

“Did you two get pulled here like the rest of us?” Sidon couldn’t keep his hands to himself, needing to hold onto Spirit’s hands while he spoke with excitement. “Where did you land?”

“We got here two days ago, got thrown into Whistling Hill,” she answered in a rush. “But that’s not– We’ve been worried sick about you all for months now! Is everyone alright?”

Sidon froze, his tail slowing to a stop. “Months? We’ve only been here for three days.”

“It’s been two months since you all disappeared, Sides,” Ghost said in a slow–almost cautious–voice. “We’ve been in a panic trying to figure out where you all went.”

“No messages, no sightings, no traces, nothing.” Spirit huffed out a weak laugh. “It’s like you all just stopped existing one day.”

“But, I was at the Domain three days ago.” Sidon let go of Spirit’s hands, a panic filling his voice.

Spirit grabbed back onto his hands before he could pull away. “We’ll explain everything when everyone else is here and we’re…” She turned, black eyes pointed at Zelda–pointed at everyone else. “Alone.”

“We could regroup at the village,” Impa suggested. She had picked herself up considerably, an easy smile on her face and smudged tear tracks almost invisible. “We aren’t sure where Ganon is heading next, but until we do it would be wise to find somewhere safe to reside.”

The sun was still in the sky. It wasn’t bleeding red like before, the muted yellow shining through the clouds was a relief. The bottom of it had begun to brush against the tops of the cliffs and peaks.

The village it was.

Link sat down beside her at the tea table. The sheikah robes were loose on him, but they were loose on her too. He fidgeted with them a little bit, frowning at the sleeves before giving up and rolling them up to his elbows.

The flickering image of old, scratchy yarn dragged across the edge of her mind, a thought that was very sickeningly not hers.

The connection hadn’t faded.

She sighed and brought the cup of tea to her lips again. It was pleasant, even if it had gone a bit cold since she had first gotten it. Wildberry and mint with a spoonful of honey. To most people it would be too sweet–gods, even to Zelda it was too sweet–but it was exactly what she needed.

The sheikah had fussed over everyone when they had arrived, her most of all. She hadn’t even gotten a proper chance to talk to the hylians from the future before she had been dragged away to the late Impa’s residence and dolled up.

Though Teba didn’t look too happy seeing them–despite what Prince Sidon had claimed–so even if Zelda had stayed behind she still wouldn’t have gotten a word in through his worried lecture.

But the pampering was nice, Zelda would admit that much. She had always protested the maids doing her makeup and hair. She was perfectly capable of doing those things herself, thank you very much. It was a nice luxury when she was exhausted, she would admit. Being able to just sit back and not worry about anything but staying still while her hair was done up in braids was a heaven unlike any other.

They hadn’t dolled her up too much, though. She’d made sure of that. But they had at least covered the dark circles under her eyes and brightened up her complexion. The burn scar on her ear had healed with the potion sitting on it for so long, but she kept it covered with bandages and ointments just to be safe. Impa hadn't wanted to risk infection, and so Zelda kept it covered mostly for her sake.

Link hadn’t gotten the memo, it seemed. His every scratch and bruise was covered up, his hair brushed to perfection. How long had it taken the sheikah to make him look presentable, Zelda wondered while taking another sip of the lukewarm tea.

“Is your back doing alright?” She asked, setting her cup down. Link’s eyes followed it, before landing on his hands that he had folded onto the top of the table.

“Yeah.”

He was telling the truth.

“What happened? I know it wasn’t Ganon’s blights that brought you to your knees.”

“Some of the blisters tore open when the waterblight hit me, but it should be ok now.” He squeezed his fists. “Mipha told me to rest for a few days so it won’t happen again.”

Zelda hummed, tracing a finger around her cup. “You should listen to her. I don’t want you to get hurt again if it can be prevented.”

“Of course.” He bowed his head, just as rigid and cut off as he had been before.

She could hear his internal war with himself. There wasn’t time to rest. Even if Ganon had retreated for now, there was no telling if they had months or days until he struck again. He should’ve been stronger. He shouldn’t have taken that hit at the citadel. He shouldn’t have caved under a little pain.

One strong thought stood out from the rest. The muddled images of death, of the faces of the soldiers that had stared up at them as they had left the fort in high hopes and stepped over the bodies they had not been fast enough to save.

Zelda took a deep breath. She concentrated on the warmth in his ribcage, flowing it up through her spine into the base of her skull. The heat swelled beneath her temples. “You didn’t fail them.”

His head snapped up. His eyes stared into her own like pinpricks, the color gone from his face. “Did you–”

“Just me,” she said in his head.

“Hylia above,” he exhaled. Link reached a shaking hand up, running it through his hair while he leaned forward against the table–all previous formalities and barriers forgotten.

“I’m sorry.” Zelda wrapped both hands around her cup, knowing that reaching for him now would be unwanted. “This is new to me too.”

“Can you . . . do it to other people?”

“I don’t know. I just connected us somehow. Or . . . maybe we always were and I just noticed, I don’t know.” She watched him drag a hand toward his face, covering his mouth with his palm while his face scrunched in thought. “I can feel certain things from you. Like your breathing, or your heartbeat, or your . . . thoughts.

“It scares me, if I’m being honest,” she admitted.

He flicked back to her, the frown of his brow replaced by a soft confusion. “Why? You aren’t doing it on purpose. It’s . . . it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” she bit. She shoved the cup of tea away from her, a bit of the room temperature liquid splashing onto the wooden table. “It’s going to my head, these powers. I wanted– Gods above, I wanted to see if I could control you Link. I discovered this connection and the first thing I did was think about how to abuse it, like She would.”

“But you didn’t.”

Zelda blanked. Link had moved his hand from his face, bearing all his emotion on the table for her to see. He was gentle when he reached toward her, grabbing her fingers in his own. When she didn’t pull back he pulled them closer to him, halfway between them both.

“You could have,” he said, never once looking away from her, “but you didn’t.”

“That doesn’t excuse that I wanted to in the first place.”

“It doesn’t. But . . . I wouldn’t mind. If you thought it was necessary I would be fine with you–”

“Stop. Just, don’t.” She let go of his hand to reposition them, knitting their fingers together. “I don’t know if I even can . Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to do that. I wouldn’t do that. Not to you.”

A two heartbeats in her chest, growing ever closer to falling into perfect sync with each passing second. It felt nice.

“To someone else, though?”

She sighed, leaning against his side. “Maybe. I feel powerful now, Link. I had been so weak before, but now I… I don’t know, I feel like a God and that doesn’t frighten me as much as it should. Does that make me a bad person?”

“I don’t know,” he answered.

“I feel like it does.”

“I don’t know.”

She snorted, bumping their conjoined hands against him. “What do you know, then?”

He looked over at her; a smile. “That I’m glad you aren’t mad at me.”

“You’re relieved to find out I sent you away because I was battling with an overwhelming urge to strip you of your free will and see if I could control you like the vessel you were created by the Goddess to be and not because I was cross with you?”

“Yeah.”

He wasn’t repulsed. He still wanted to be her friend.

She laughed until there were tears in her eyes. He watched her the whole time with the kindest smile she had ever seen. They were going to be alright.

Chapter 15: Scars

Chapter Text

Gods above, Kohga needed a nap. He had just managed to pull himself away from the festivities and already his exhaustion was setting in. All the craziness of the last few days could really do a number on a middle-aged man with a diet consisting primarily of bananas.

It didn’t help that the sheikah weren’t the most hospitable hosts. No, of course they wouldn’t be. While everyone else had been filed into rooms and baths and lavish meals, the yiga had been left out in the cold.

They would have slept outside last night too, if the crown soldiers hadn’t offered for the yiga to board with them. Kohga had his suspicions that the soldiers only offered because the birdies had asked them to, but that was for another time. Another issue.

Speaking of other issues, Kohga wanted to be mad at the birdies for not coming to find him and Sooga on the battlefield like they had promised, but he knew the circ*mstances didn’t give them a chance to. He wanted to be mad at them for barely even saying a word to Kohga all day long and spending all their time at their family reunion.

He wasn’t mad though. If he was honest, he was beyond relieved that they were alive and unharmed and that they had found what they had been looking for. Sooga teased him about it a lot, but Kohga knew Sooga felt the same way. Those birdies were theirs and if Ganon had so much as given them a scratch Kohga would have . . . actually there wasn’t much Kohga could do in that situation. He couldn’t kill a god, but he could say some very choice words about him.

Now, Kakariko couldn’t even compare to the beauty that was the Yiga Hideout, but Kohga could give it some credit where it was due. Like the forests and cliffs. Those were pretty–not as pretty as the oasis ten miles from the hideout, but they came close.

At night the scenery came alive. Flowers and fireflies glowed in the darkness, giving Kakariko an otherworldly air to it. With a smile Kohga stuck his mask into a cluster of glowing petals, the blue light too faint to blind but bright enough to force his eyes to adjust.

He could see over the cliff's edge, the entirety of the village in his view. It was alive despite the hour. Flickering lanterns dotted the roads, fabrics of vibrant colors tied around them that fluttered in the cold breeze. There were people crammed into the narrow roads and small buildings. People of all races, of all backgrounds. Kohga could even spot the tell-tale red of his yiga amongst the crowds.

The gerudo and sheikah gave his people a wide berth. Which was fine, the yiga hated them too.

He knew that Sooga was somewhere below–likely getting to know their new allies better. Kohga should have been doing the same. Instead he was wandering around the forest outside of the village, looking for a nice and quiet spot to lay down and sleep. The village was too lively for a nap.

When the sun had risen last night and everyone had woken from their exhausted collapse, they had received the news that Ganon had retreated. He had turned tail, pulling his essence back to Hyrule Castle to cower within its walls. His troops had been called back to him, and they now stood guard outside his stolen throne.

There were stray beasts and machines, of course. Groups of Ganon’s fodder that still lingered in the forests and caves, creeping ever closer to the civilians. The soldiers of the races had been trying to keep Ganon’s wandering minions away from the settlements to the best of their lacking abilities.

But the small attacks didn’t matter in Hyrule’s eyes. Ganon’s retreat did.

They had bested him at his own game and he had run. There was no telling how long Ganon would continue to hide in fear of the Princess’s unlocked powers. There was no telling when he would make the next move, or if he was waiting for them to be the ones to make it. It didn’t matter.

Until then, Hyrule was celebrating. Drinks were being shared, feasts prepared, loves professed. The Hyruleans were making a holiday of it.

They were making a racket out of it too.

Kohga wandered until he was far enough that the boisterous party only echoed in the back of his head. When the sounds of foxes and crickets entered his ears instead, he knew he had found the right spot. With a stretch and a yawn he scoped out the area he had found himself in.

It was a small clearing, complete with a few trees, rocks, and logs. There was a particular group of bushes that caught his eye, the largest of them looking just the right size to fit a sleeping Kohga inside.

Well, don’t mind if he did.

He happily skipped over to his napping spot, and wow was it perfect. He rustled through the branches of his bush, picking out any of the pointy ones that could cause him issue. It didn’t take long–barely more than a minute or so–for his makeshift bed to be ready for use.

Finally, peace, quiet, and dreams of bananas. He parted the topmost layer of the bush so he could start to worm his way inside. With the leaves bent out of the way, it gave Kohga a better view of the forest that lay beyond it.

There was a wooden bridge–poorly made–that led to a small grove. In that grove was a pond, an off-shoot of the rivers that snaked through the cliffs. Lily Pads floated on the top of the still water, and the sounds of frog croaks were just loud enough to barely register.

The birdies were sitting beside the pond. Neither of them noticed him.

Well, his nap could wait.

Exaggerated steps, exaggerated yawns–exaggerated everything. Kohga made extra sure to make enough noise to draw attention to himself, but not too much to startle. Ghost was the first to notice his approach, ear twitching and head swiveling the second Kohga stepped foot on the rickety log bridge.

Kohga raised a hand in greeting, Spirit waved back. The movement sent something darting out from between Spirit and Ghost, something blue and glowing. It vanished before Kohga got a good look at it.

“Why’re the little birdies not at the celebration, hm?” Kohga asked, letting the glowing rabbit fade from his thoughts.

“We could ask you the same,” Spirit said. Her head was turned towards him, the cheek of her mask pressed against her drawn up knees.

“I’m an old man, I need my beauty sleep!” He huffed, sticking his hands on his hips. “Besides, I can’t catch a wink with all that noise down there.”

Kohga took their conversation as an invitation to join them. He didn’t sit right beside them, keeping an arms distance away. The ground was spongy and a bit wet. Awful place for a nap. “I found a perfect napping spot over in the woods if you want to tag along, but my bush off-limits for you, birdies.”

“We’ll pass,” Ghost said. He leaned back, arms supported behind him.

“Don’t let us keep you from your nap.” Spirit sat up and stretched her legs out in front of her. “We’ll stay quiet if you want to go.”

He flicked his hand with a scoff. “Too late for that! I’m stuck awake now, so I might as well keep you some company.”

One of them laughed under their breath, Kohga couldn’t tell which one it had been.

The clouds of malice over Kakariko had dissipated when the Princess had stepped foot through the entrance. She was purifying Hyrule with each step she took, whether she realized it or not.

The sheikah had certainly noticed. The civilians had certainly noticed. Kohga had certainly noticed.

It was the main reason for the grand celebration that had been planned all throughout the day and held all throughout tonight. It was divine reverence disguised as a banquet. The Princess didn’t question the lavish gifts and constant prayers sent her way every five seconds. She was, after all, under the pretense that the celebration was about Hyrule’s victory, and not her.

With the malice gone, Kohga could see the stars again. They weren’t as clear as they were in the desert. Even so, familiar constellations greeted him like an old friend. The Hylia’s Tears constellation was the most prominent of the major ones–a jumble of seven stars that people had sworn for millennia looked like Hylia Herself, down on Her knees and crying into Her hands.

It wasn’t clear what She was crying about. Kohga had liked to think She was crying for the yiga; that She was ashamed that She had let Her loyal servants be treated so poorly to the point where they turned against Her.

It was a bit poetic for Her tears to be hanging so clearly above the village, Kohga thought. Maybe Her tears tonight were happy ones.

“So, you birdies hiding from the oversized mother cucco?” Kohga laid down on his back and crossed his arms under his head. “Real big squawk he was making over you two. Bit of a nag.”

“He was just worried,” Spirit said. “It scared him to realize we could have gotten hurt or died here without anyone ever finding out.”

“Still sounds like a nag.”

Spirit made a small noise, shrugging her shoulders and dropping them.

Kohga rolled his eyes. Please, who did that feather-head think he was, calling Kohga’s birdies his “sparrows.” Gods, it was pathetic. Really, the birdies already had Kohga. There was no room for some grouchy bird who was so old all his feathers had already turned white.

If he was going to make a fool of himself by lecturing the birdies about safety and Calamity and blah blah blah for over an hour, then the bird brain didn’t deserve the birdies. But regardless of Kohga’s–right–opinions about him, the birdies held the bird in high regard.

“Did your mother cucco give you your masks?”

“Ah, no,” Ghost said distantly. He rubbed his thumb against the edge of his mask, the white stain of the wood reminding Kohga all too much of the old rito. “Our m– Teba’s wife, Saki, made them for us.”

“Why?”

“Teba’s son thought we would feel left out–being two hylians in a family of rito.” Spirit laughed a fond thing, her fingers trailing to the leather strap fastened around the back of her head. “He was so distressed about us possibly feeling like outcasts that Saki broke down and made them at his insistence. He got to choose what birds they were.”

That was sickeningly sweet. The masks certainly looked homemade, not anywhere near standard mask quality. It wasn’t to say they looked bad. They were competently made at the very least. The shape was smooth, the eyes were symmetrical for the most part–upon closer inspection the left eye of Ghost’s mask was a tad higher than the right, but it was barely noticeable. The straps in the back weren’t the most subtle thing, big and bulky and obviously just reused belts.

But they worked.

“What about the other fledglings that old bird has under his wing?” Kohga hummed. “They got masks?”

“No,” Spirit paused and leaned a tad closer to Kohga. “Not yet, at least. Saki’s working on it.”

Ghost snorted a quiet laugh. “It’s like the yiga clan, right? All your members get those masks.”

It was like the yiga clan. Except the yiga clan didn’t hand make each mask, just the ones that mattered. Like Sooga’s mask, designed by Kohga himself–not made, obviously, Kohga didn’t have those skills.

“Yeah! Mask gifting is a sacred yiga custom; tell feather-head he’s infringing on yiga clan territory. Hands off!”

“We’ll let him know,” Spirit said with amusem*nt.

The lapping of the water was soothing in a distinctly un-rhythmic way. It was disrupted by Ghost sloshing around in it, never splashing though. Kohga didn’t want to imagine how cold the water was. The air was cold enough, and it would probably snow soon if the short storm at the plains was anything to go by.

Kohga would admit he was beyond excited to see the snow pile on the ground. Living in the desert, Kohga never got to see much snow. The only times he had seen it was when he would make journeys up to the Gerudo Highlands. He could count the number of times he had seen the snow on one hand, the aftermath of the battle at the fort included.

He could drag Sooga into making a snow-lian with him! He’d always wanted to. Maybe the birdies would want to as well. Ghost did say that Spirit enjoyed the snow, she must be a snow-lian making expert.

Spirit sighed then, a long and drawn out breath that emptied the pits of her lungs. “Sorry for making you ally your clan to the crown. We know you aren’t . . . getting along too well.”

Ah, so they noticed.

“Please,” Kohga huffed. “A couple of birdies didn’t make me do anything. I talked it over with my second in command, it was our choice to follow the goddess princess. My people are getting along just fine. It’s those sheikah and gerudo who refuse to see reason.”

“Understandably,” Ghost hummed, at which Kohga rolled his eyes.

“We’re on the same side, aren’t we? If my yiga can play nice, they can too! The past is in the past.”

“...I don’t think that’s how that works,” Spirit said with a tense laugh. “The past doesn't just . . . go away.”

Kohga crossed his legs, bouncing one foot in the air. The sheikah and gerudo were hypocrites. They refused to overlook the past actions of the yiga, but expected the yiga to accept the slaughter of Kohga’s people by the hands of the Goddess’s followers. The younger yiga were easier to forgive the sins of their blood and desert relatives. It was why they were down their, drinking themselves stupid and intermixing with the drunk murderers of their people. They forgave.

Not Kohga. Not Sooga.

“Do you remember when we were exchanging stories, and you kept bugging us about our adventures?” The sound of Spirit’s voice broke through the cold night. “When we told you about how we snuck into the yiga hideout together?”

Kohga laughed, a hint of pride in his tone. “Snuck into it three times without being caught, right? If it was anyone else I would call them liars!”

A pause, a deep breath in. “We actually snuck into the yiga hideout four times together.”

Ok? They got the number wrong, big deal. But the uncomfortable silence that hung after Ghost’s words twisted something in Kohga’s chest. It . . . wasn’t that simple, was it? Kohga sat up.

The birdies looked small beside him. Ghost had pulled his feet from the pond, hugging his legs to his chest and tucking his bare skin away from the cold. Spirit had pulled her arms toward herself, almost wrapping them around her.

“What do you mean?” A pit of something settled in the back of Kohga’s throat, something heavy and dry and uncomfortable. He said nothing, just waited while the pit grew bigger with each chirp of a cricket.

“By the fourth time we got . . . overconfident,” Spirit sighed. “They tricked us, created an illusion around themselves to look like prisoners and we blindly fell for it. We tried to help, and when we got close enough…”

She trailed off, bringing a hand to her neck. Spirit’s fingers traced down the thick scar that dug into her skin.

Oh.

“A yiga gave you that,” Kohga choked out.

“They did,” she said as though those two words didn’t rip Kohga’s heart right from his chest. “They meant to take an eye but I was moving too much. They missed, and I barely survived. We were meant to die that day. We almost did.”

“So you could say our view of the yiga is . . . strained,” said Ghost with a humorless laugh.

Ghost held his right shoulder, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as though plagued by a distant pain. Sickened, Kohga ripped his eyes away from them to stare down at his own hands. They were shaking slightly.

“I–”

“Look,” Spirit cut Kohga off. She turned to fully face him, having to lean around Ghost just a tad. “The only reason we mention this is because we understand where the sheikah and gerudo are coming from. We have a bad past with the yiga, and we kept you alive partly out of some . . . sense of convenience. We trust you, though, because you’ve given us reason to. That doesn’t mean our scars have miraculously healed over. They never will.

“The sheikah and gerudo will always have the scars you gave them, and no amount of kissing ass will make them go away. But give them a chance to see that you and your clan are deserving of their trust now. Some will come around, some won’t. Some will only trust you until the deed is done. You can’t expect them to forgive you, though.”

“They gave us scars too!” Kohga regretted how harsh his words had come out, but neither birdie looked put off by it.

“Then don’t cover them up.” Ghost reached a hand forward, dunking it into the pond while he kept his face pointed away from the conversation. ”No good in that. Show them off, let them know they’ve damaged you as much as you did them. Tell them they have to earn your trust as much as you do theirs.”

Kohga’s fingers found spongy grass, burying themselves in. He laughed, tipping his head back to the sky. Don’t cover them up, right. Disguises and illusions were the yiga’s whole deal. Their clan specialized in covering up. A spool of emotion unfurled in his chest, filling his lungs and making his breaths feel more like half formed sobs. Damned birdies. They really were his undoing, huh?

He chuckled horsley through the buildup in his throat. “When did my birdies become wise little owls?”

“We have experience with these sorts of things,” said Spirit. Her tone was light, but her words carried an interesting weight.

Kohga wished he knew the burdens of his birdies’ past. With how much they sagged underneath it, he figured they could use some more hands to help lift it.

They didn’t talk about anything else, but that was fine. There were a lot of things Kohga could have bugged them about, but just sitting in their company was nice enough. He had a lot of things to think about, anyway. The birdies were right–of course they were. Kohga had some . . . relationships to mend.

After a while Kohga shrugged off the coldness that had set in deep in his bones. He threw his arms out in front of him, using their momentum to stand to his feet. Two bird masks followed his movement with swiveling heads. They watched with curiosity as he stretched his legs out. Kohga was getting better at telling their emotions–at least, Kohga liked to think he was.

Kohga had thought them creepy before, with their large empty eyes and golden beaks, twisted into smiles in the darkness of night. The masks still were creepy to a certain extent. But the eyes were also wide and curious, the beaks were the closest thing to a smile he would ever see from them; that was special in its own weird way.

“Well–” he relaxed with an exhale and put a hand on his hip– “time to crash a party.”

“You have fun with that.”

“Save us something good.”

Spirit and Ghost’s voices overlapped each other as they both responded.

Kohga frowned and looked down at them. “Are you two not coming?”

“We’d love to, but we’re actually waiting on someone,” Spirit answered with a huff. “We were supposed to meet a while ago, but they haven’t shown up.”

“Waiting on someone for a private conversation, no less,” Ghost added.

Oh? Mysterious meeting in the woods? Color Kohga intrigued. Actually, no, scratch that. They were probably meeting with their mother cucco to talk about private stuff. Kohga was not sticking around to even catch so much as a glimpse of feathers.

“Well, I’ll be off then. Don’t want to intrude.” He wiggled his fingers in a wave before turning on a heel. “Hope you don’t get stood up, birdies!”

He didn’t wait to see if they waved back or said anything in return. They didn’t follow him–as expected but still a little disappointing. A party would be no fun if he couldn’t drag his birdies around with him. They’d probably like the dancing. Just the two of them spinning to the music, not a care in the world, it was enough to make Kohga coo over those lovebirds.

The village was just as loud as when he had left it. There were a few choice glares shot his way as he wove his way through the crowds, but he was otherwise left to his own devices. A handful of his yiga shouted for him as he passed–some of the ones whose names he had learned yesterday but could not remember today among them.

The younger yiga had their masks on their belts, their faces bared for their new drinking friends.

Kohga gave them a wave, his eyes lingering on the soldiers who gave him a smile and a wave back. The hylian, goron, and zora soldiers were easier to accept their new allies than the others. The rito weren’t outwardly malicious, but they weren’t the most friendly either–more friendly than the gerudo though. While there were still many hylians and zora who wouldn’t even look at the yiga, the gorons had thought nothing of their new friends.

A goron slapped Kohga on the back as he passed. It knocked the wind out of him, but the goron was quick to call out, “Sorry, brother!”

Lanterns hung around each turn, the narrow space between the houses filled with laughter and the smell of cooked meats and sweets. Kakariko was a small village, really only a single road with a few branching paths for housing. The paths were all dirt, only there from years of foot traffic.

There were more people in the village than the village had been built for. Kohga already knew the sleeping accommodations were atrocious, as many of the soldiers and his own people were sleeping in tents and not beds. But seeing the number of heads in the crowds really highlighted just how cramped the tucked away village was.

Most of the crowd gathered around the largest of the clearings, the area in front of the late Impa’s abode, and the place the current Impa would reside when she so chose to actually act as master. Everyone already considered her as much, as it was her rightful title after that scientist had turned the position down those years ago. But the little master didn’t feel ready to lead.

She had the tattoo, she had the name, she had the ranking, and she even had the blessing of the late King. She just didn’t have the resolve. Besides, if she claimed the full responsibility of her role and embraced her title then she wouldn’t be able to be the Princess’s little doggie anymore.

When Kohga noticed Sooga, his second in command was already looking his way–for how long, Kohga didn’t know. He was seated at the bottom of the Impa’s staircase. Sooga’s mask remained on his face, like most of the other elder yigas’ masks, but Kohga could feel Sooga’s eyes on him regardless. Kohga had just run away from the village without a word, after all.

Kohga knew Sooga was confused when he raised his hand in a greeting but made no motion to join Sooga’s side. Sooga didn’t move from his seat, he didn’t stand to follow as Kohga brushed past to whisper, “Later.”

Sooga’s mask remained trained on Kohga, however, until the very moment that his head could no longer turn and Kohga was out of sight.

With the relief of privacy, Kohga’s pace quickened. If he wasn’t mentally preparing himself for what he knew he had to do, he would have been skipping. He knew where his destination was, he had heard from the passing crowds just where she had gone. But the closer he got to the small edge near the edge of the village, the more his stomach churned.

But he was doing this for the birdies. He wouldn’t let them down.

The wooden door of the inn opened with a loud creak, the windows on either side shook when Kohga slammed it closed behind him. The faces that had looked up at the noise disregarded him in favor of their drinks and cards just as quickly.

He looked around the inn, and found the only person whose attention he still held. He took a deep breath and swallowed his deep rooted pride and anger. His mask slid from his face with shaking hands, only one person saw.

The chieftain of the gerudo smiled when they properly locked eyes for the first time.

Urbosa raised her drink as though giving a toast toward him. “Sav'aaq, master yiga,” she called out.

“Chieftain gerudo,” he matched her false friendliness, “fancy running into you around here.”

She hummed, raising the ceramic cup to her lips. She’d had a bit to drink, if the flush of her face and small empty bottles lined neatly on the edge of the table were any indication. He stood in the doorway while she drained the cup she held pinched between her thumb and index. When the cup was set down she cleared her throat and kicked the chair across from her. Its legs scraped against the wooden floorboards, but the chair did not fall.

“I could use a drinking partner. Care to join me?”

“You seem to be drinking for two as is.”

“It’s called manners, voe. You’d benefit from learning some.”

“Why, if you’re going to be so insistent!” He took her offer and sat himself down.

She was even more intimidating from across the table. Her movements were fluid and relaxed, and despite being obviously encumbered she held onto her poised ruthlessness. Her eyes were trained on him as she brushed the bottles between them aside, empty ceramic clinking together. Kohga had to look up to meet her, and judging by her smile she was reveling in their drastic height difference.

A small cup was pushed in front of him without a word. It was filled with a clear liquid–alcohol–just enough for a single large gulp. Urbosa filled her own. She raised hers toward him, holding it there.

An invitation. How could he refuse such a polite offer?

He raised his own, tapping the ceramic cups together in the center. Urbosa studied him for a moment, just a moment, before downing her cup. Kohga nearly gagged on the harsh sting on his tongue when he followed suit. Gerudo drinks were usually sweeter, fruits and spices mixed in to give the drinker an oasis in a cup.

Sheikah drinks were drier, harder, more bitter. But by Hylia, did it give him the right kick.

He slammed the cup down with a light sigh, savoring the burn that was lingering on his throat. The chieftain let out a small noise of distaste at his reaction, but her expression never changed from her maliciously encouraging smile.

“Shame you always wear that mask. Some unfortunate vai might find you attractive if you didn’t,” she said.

He grinned and put his elbow on the table. It brushed against the edge of his mask; he had set it on the table upon sitting down, not sure where else to put it. “Are you one of those extremely fortunate vai?”

She tapped her cup against the table, and the innkeeper set three more bottles of the liquor on the table beside her. “No. Voe aren’t my type.”

“I’ve got a nice yiga about your age. She’s quite the looker.”

“Yiga aren’t my type either,” she sniffed.

Kohga set his head in his hand, dragging the index of his other hand across the rim of his cup. “Picky lovers find no pair.”

“My pair died in the plague set upon by your old master,” she said with a hint of provocation in her words.

Kohga’s hand froze, the glass tipped on its edge beneath it. “So the rumors were true. A secret affair with the hylian queen. Ooo, how scandalous.”

Her eyes narrowed. The chieftain grabbed one of the new bottles beside her, filling both their cups. She slammed the half emptied on the table hard enough to make the wood shake beneath the two of them.

Kohga sighed, taking in the bitter aroma from his cup. “She was a good queen. She didn’t think of my people as an infestation to purge from her kingdom, we respected her for that. It pained us when she passed as much as it pained the rest of Hyrule.”

Urbosa laughed coldly and drank. She didn’t down it this time, only taking a small sip before setting it back down. “The lies come easily to you, yiga. You may not be aligned with Ganon now, but you were when she ruled. You were when she died. And you were after her passing.”

Kohga tipped his head back, letting the drink run down his throat. It was easier this time. Still dry, still hard, but the bitterness did not sting his tongue like before. Despite the taste being easier, the burn of the alcohol was not. He held back his cough, but in doing so it made it worse. There were tears in his eyes as he choked on the burn in his throat, the chieftain looked down on him in unrestrained amusem*nt.

“You have to know the bitterness our people felt towards the crown,” he managed to choke out. “How quickly you forget that your own people were disgraced by the noble hylians thousands of years before the fall of the first Calamity. We wanted revenge for our dead, nothing more.”

“Your God had been our King and we live every day in remorse for that very fact,” she spat out. Urbosa looked a little shaken under her layer of venomous composure. Kohga wondered if it was the liquor or his far too familiar words.

“Oh and you were so high and mighty for not wanting vengeance against the kingdom that went to war against your innocent sisters,” Kohga cackled despite the liquor that still had yet to sink its teeth into his mind. “Just as they killed my people for following their orders!”

“You’ve killed innocents,” Urbosa said in feigned calmness. The steadiness of her facade slammed against the table with her fist abruptly, sending an empty glass onto its side.

“As have you!” He shouted back, throwing his hand still wrapped around his cup accusingly at her across the table. “Not all of my yiga worked in the name of Ganon.”

Her eyes glared at him, making the distance across the table seem to stretch across the entire inn room. She didn’t so much as glance away from him as her fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of another bottle and she poured him another glass in his outstretched hand.

They downed their drinks at the same time.

Kohga slammed his cup back down, unable to meet the ever present stare of the chieftain. “Listen, let’s just call this a truce, yeah? I killed your people, you killed mine. Now we’re going to kill that bloated pig in the sky together and save the kingdom.”

A chair squealed against the floorboards the the sounds of clinking glasses followed. There was a single breath of laughter from a distant table and a shout from from kitchen behind the rickety double doors before Urbosa let out a loud snort of a laugh.

She threw her head back, laughing without a single care in the world until Kohga awkwardly joined in with his own.

There was a fondness in her eyes when they met once more over the rim of her raised glass. The few drops of amber liquor in the cup clung to the edges, barely shaking when Kohga raised his own emptied cup to hers and knocked them together. The sound that rang from them was a shrill thing.

“I still don’t trust you, yiga,” she said with a content smile that screamed power and assurance.

“Hah! I could say the same to you, gerudo!”

She scanned him up and down with a half-lidded gaze, her smile growing more wicked when she caught the beginning of a flush on her cheeks. “Oh, don’t tell me the yiga can’t handle his booze?”

“Of course I can!” He barked back. It hadn’t been nearly enough time for the little bit he had already drank to have any effect yet. Sure his chest felt a little weird, but it hadn’t spread to his head yet. “Why ask such a stupid question?”

She leaned forward with a devilish grin. “It’s just unusual for us to agree on something. And considering I’m sh*tfaced drunk right now, you’re either stupid or drunk off of three drinks.”

They were getting somewhere. He ignored her latter comment.

“Don’t throw up on me, and I think I like this version of the chieftain.”

“Don’t pretend to be me again and I think I can tolerate this yiga.”

He poured their next drinks.

Kohga wasn’t drunk.

Kohga couldn’t be drunk. Because if he was drunk, then that chieftain was beyond drunk. She was like . . . ultra drunk. Could someone be beyond drunk? Was that a power someone could have? Did you have to have powers to be beyond drunk?

Oh the Princess could probably be beyond drunk. She was like . . . an almost god. Gods could get beyond drunk, Kohga was sure. Her glowy goddess powers would probably get all sparkly if she was beyond drunk. Like fireworks! Kohga loved fireworks. Oh sh*t, wait. She was too young to drink. Damn, no fireworks.

Oh, but the birdies had to be old enough to drink! At least, Kohga thought they were old enough. He didn’t actually know how old they were. He would ask the mother cucco if he wasn’t such a party pooper.

“What are you talking about, they’re my kids,” this and “no I’m not giving them to you, they aren’t things to give away,” that. Ugh, so annoying.

What was he doing? Oh, yeah, that’s right!

He was sober enough to remember that he had promised to save the birdies something nice from the party. Hence the sealed bottle of Kohga’s now favorite drink in his arms. It wasn’t for drinking–he couldn’t drink anymore even if he wanted to, if he did he would get drunk and he couldn’t have that–it was for the birdies.

It had been a few hours since he had left them. The time had flown by while he was with the chieftain, but Kohga couldn’t remember most of their conversation after that first hour. He knew Sooga checked up on him at some point, and that Urbosa had “apologized for messing his face up” to Sooga, but that was really it.

There was a cucco at some point. It hadn’t joined them for drinks unfortunately.

Kohga frowned as he made his way through the crowds. He’d been aware enough when leaving the inn to put his mask back on. His face was meant for the chieftain only –and the five or so other people in the inn, but that was beside the point he was trying to make. Oh maybe he would take his mask off around the birdies. Maybe that would encourage them to take their masks off around him!

He was a genius.

The crowd had thinned significantly, seeing as it was now what would be considered early morning. The sun wouldn’t rise for a few more hours, though, so it was still night in Kohga’s books.

His birdies weren’t anywhere. He’d asked around to varying levels of success, but everyone he stopped said they hadn’t seen them. Not even the Princess or Hero had seen them, but the two of them looked exhausted when he had asked them so they weren’t trustworthy sources.

By the time Kohga thought to ask the birdies’ friends if they had seen them, Kohga’s head had begun to pound. The fish prince had been unhelpful. Just like the little chieftain, the pebble, and the mother cucco. No one knew where the two had gone off to. If Sooga wasn’t fast asleep already, Kohga would have sent him out to find them so he could go to sleep for an eternity.

Kohga had been the last one to see the two, though, so his chances of finding them were much higher than anyone else’s. Even if he was drunk–which he was starting to admit that yeah, he might have had a few too many drinks.

He stumbled his way through his napping forest. His perfect bush was untouched. Good, the birdies hadn’t taken advantage of his absence to ruin his bed. He’d be back for the bush later. Probably that night, actually. A good bush nap sounded amazing to his slightly–more than slightly–drunk self.

He stopped before the bridge, beaming at the sight of the birdies still sitting beside the little pond. There was a third person there, but Kohga couldn’t tell who it was even with them sitting closest to him. Not when all three of them had their backs to him.

Oh, right, they were meeting with someone. Kohga shouldn’t be here. He was intruding, and he didn’t want to do that. He eyed the bottle in his hands, then the birdies engaged in an animated discussion with the mysterious third person. His gift could wait. They didn’t need it right now.

With a sigh he turned away, sulking back into his sleeping forest. He only made it a step when a loud crack rang through the air. He jumped, before realizing the sound was his own doing. A broken branch sat under his foot. Wow he must really be drunk if he had forgotten yiga 101 and not watched his feet. How embarrassing.

The light sound of conversation behind him had stopped. Kohga turned, surprised to find the sheikah scientist girl looking right back at him. She was just sitting there, in the same spot he had been sitting at before. Her face was pale as she stared at him, the horror plain as day on her face.

He met her eyes, and then the other two pairs of eyes staring back at him.

The eyes of the Princess and the Hero met him. The Princess and Hero sitting in the same exact spot the birdies had. The Princess and Hero he had questioned on his drunken search for the birdies–who were trailed by a little robot on their way to sleep for the night. The Princess with a scar that ran up her neck and across her cheek, stopping at the bridge of her nose. The Hero with a half eaten ear and a burn that curled around his jaw.

The Princess and Hero with two wooden masks sitting by their sides.

He wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“Is this a bad time?” He managed to slur out.

He didn’t see the Hero stand up. He didn’t see him move. Kohga just felt the pain in the back of his head, and he fell into the nap he had meant to take all those hours ago.