Tremblingly, Link raised two fingers and stroked the tapestry.
"The fabric of time," he muttered, a streak of sweat coursing down his forehead and soaking his yellow hair. "The source of everything that has happened and will ever happen."
"And happens," floated a voice from behind him. Link slowly turned around, catching sight of a bright redhead. Bangled arms were encircling the large ponytail; that was neatly tied high on her skull; her palms were glittering with shiny, flaming sparkles. "You're forgetting, young Link, that you are the saviour of Hyrule. Everything that you have accomplished since you have left Outset had been previously written in the stars."
"Yes…" Saddened, the fifteen year-old turned back to the majestic, magnificent, marvellous tapestry. Once more, he resumed stroking it with two fingers. "Even King's death?"
The redhead nodded. "Yes. Before everything happens, it is recorded in the stars, in the fabric of this tapestry – I knew that you never wished it to happen, but that is destiny." She spoke breathlessly, but by the time she gave a pause, her voice choked. "I know this, Link."
"That's just what you say." Link heaved a sigh, not bothering to turn around. "I believe you, but I don't know… This tapestry is breathtaking, but I can't discern its hidden meaning." He pressed his forehead against the eternally warm fabric – the fabric of time. "This tapestry is supposed to have foresaid each and every thing that has occurred in the course of time, but who maintains it? Who manages it? Who is it who mans the loom that produces this fabric?"
"You are maturing, young hero." Seeming pleased, the redhead approached a placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Bearing the death of a close friend is not something you could have done four years ago."
"But am I who I really think I am?" A confused Link turned around and traced the one of the tapestry's many intricate designs with his left index finger. "Am I the hero who was destined to save the lands, or am I still the young fool I was from Outset?"
She released her hand, humming as she brought it toward the other. Link couldn't see, but from what he could decipher from her humming and small crackling sounds, she was casting a spell. Still not facing her, he ignored the spellcasting as his eyes roved over the tapestry.
The tapestry… It had been sewed with the fabric of time. It depicted tale upon legend upon story upon saga. Link knew that it had always been like this – before the creation of Hyrule, there had been this tapestry. Before the creation of time itself, there had been this tapestry. Its fabric was time itself. It had been created by Din, Farore, and Nayru to relegate their lives on the new world that they were about to create – Hyrule. It had been like this – all destinies had been plotted out by the time the world had been created.
But that didn't make him feel any better. No, it didn't matter – not to Link. The King of Red Lions and Tetra had been his best friends on his journey, his destined journey to save Hyrule. And now King was gone, having died in an accident involving what Link and Tetra suspected was magic from the creation of time itself. It didn't make Link feel any better, this tapestry – it made him feel worse. Both he and Tetra had been devastated after King's death – he, a magnificent king and Link's former talking boat, had died, though everyone else had survived. It hadn't made much sense, at first; it still didn't. After all, Ganondorf was gone; why had King alone died? Why?
Link had been torn about by sadness after King's death. Every time he went to sleep he saw him – both as a boat and as a human – floating before his eyes. Every time he tried to direct his thoughts toward pleasanter matters, they had firmly rooted themselves towards the late King. It wasn't fair – it simply wasn't fair. No, it most definitely was not. King had died, and with his death, a hole had been torn open. A hole had been torn open in Link's heart.
He hadn't spoken with Tetra since they had received the news a few months ago. He had seen the shock cross her face, but this had quickly been replaced by a deep sadness and furious anger. Tetra had planned to do what she could to help herself; for some reason or other, Link had had a dream that night about her and a mysterious green-haired figure, much like the figure now standing behind him, He'd also had an odd dream, the night of his friend's death, in which he had glimpsed King with a blue-haired person.
The redhead shook her head, the big golden band securing it shaking slightly and cutting Link's thoughts. She danced over to Link with all the talent of a professional and grabbing him by the shoulder, turned him over to that he faced her.
Link, feeling the trickles of the redhead's magic on his skin, suddenly understood. She blinked in return, a smile curving her lips. Releasing him, she said brightly, "Remember, Link, young hero, that you have been visited by a face of destiny."
Link smiled. "Thank you, Din."
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Her fingers quivering, Tetra allowed them to slide slowly on the ornate patterns of the tapestry.
She couldn't make out what the flowing piece of fabric was depicting, or even how long it was. All the fifteen year-old knew was that it was mysterious, beautiful, shrouded in the unknown – and yet oddly comforting, especially after her father's death.
"Admiring the tapestry, young rogue?" came a voice from behind her.
Tetra, who had plocked her palms flat against the tapestry and had leaned forward intently, as if something were going on before, whipped around. Standing before her was an oddly-haired figure. She had long emerald hair and a serene expression plastered onto her features.
She came forward, her eyes closed and her pale hands sparkling with magic. "Welcome to the barrier of time, young swashbuckler."
Tetra ran a hand through her hair as she observed the odd female. Her presence somehow comforted the young pirate-turned-princess; she had been mourning the death of her father when she had found this temple. She knew the tapestry for what it was; everyone did, owing to legends and mythical tales. Yet here was a greater surprise: this somewhat eccentric green-haired female.
"I see you are still a pirate," observed the green-haired one, snapping her eyes open.
Tetra was impressed but not surprised. It seemed to fit this mysterious figure, seeing with her eyes closed. "Well, what can I say?" she grinned with a shrug, crossing her arms. "Once a pirate, always a pirate."
"I can believe that." The green-haired one smiled and advanced. "Now then, young pirate, do you know where we are?"
In another situation Tetra might have felt suspicious, but the green-haired one's presence was relatively calming. "It's where time…" Tetra hesitated "… is." Her voice, she noticed as though an outsider to herself, was choked and the playful smile had quickly disappeared from her face.
"And do you know what the tapestry means?"
"It's the tapestry of time." Tetra blinked, her eyes suddenly wet. "It's where history is written – sewed in pictures. Where legends are born and time is made. It's an exact forecast to the future, and before it even happens."
"Good work, young one." With a smile, the green-haired one noticed Tetra's normally clear eyes clouding up with the mists of sadness and advanced slowly. Putting one hand on the fifteen year-old girl's shoulder, she held the posed as Tetra was lost in the insubstantial dimension of memory.
Her father was gone. The fight was dead. True, she and Link were still alive, but remembering that fateful day months ago was still enough to bring tears to her eyes. It had happened so quickly – the pirate-turned-princess had been off for another adventure with her father, Link, and her crew. During the journey she'd been musing about trivial things. She was princess and, even after five years, didn't know which life she should lead: the life of the swashbucklin' buccaneer Tetra, the life of prim, intelligent, royal Princess Zelda, or both? She didn't know, but after they had returned to land and the terrifying news had been delivered, she had stopped caring.
Now Tetra knew. It was a calm decision, an awakening from inside, a fate calling to her from deep within. She would continue to lead the life of the pirate, yet be wary and appreciative of life and of the beauty that surrounded her. Life was precious; it should not be trifled with. Yet, even after this decision had been taken, Tetra was still overcome by grief. Her father, her kind and good-spirited father, was gone. Never again would she laugh along with him because of a hilarious, secret joke, never again would she ask him about his adventures with Link, never again would she sit quietly with him, enjoying life -- the calm, the peace, the serenity. Never again would she see his smiling, hearty face.
It was in those minutes, those long, hard minutes of staring at the tapestry, barely conscious of the green-haired one behind her, Tetra became aware of a single thing. She had changed. She was maturing. She was growing. And with these realizations came a single decision: she had to save Hyrule, in memory of her father and everyone else who had died for freedom under cruelty and injustice.
She hadn't spoken to Link since her father's death. She didn't know where he was, but shortly after the king's death, she had had strange dreams. Dreams of Link and her father accompanied by figures with oddly-coloured hair. Just like the one who was standing behind her, as a matter of fact.
Tetra turned around, biting her lip. But the green-haired one had gone; though, in her place there was a feeling in her heart and a thought in her mind. The feeling was a calm, serene emotion of peace – light would always follow darkness, good would always follow bad. The thought was 'Never give up hope, for the ones you love are always with you.'
"Thank you, Farore."
A mass of glowing, green sparkles floating across the room, before her very eyes, told Tetra that Farore had heard. She had been visited by a face of destiny.
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It was a magnificent tapestry, he observed as he stroked two fingers down part of its length.
"Welcome, King," greeted a voice behind him.
Daphnes smiled to himself, not bothering to turn around. "Hello, Nayru. It seems that the hand of precarious fate has brought us together once more."
"You haven't deduced it yet?" quested the blue-haired female, raising her eyebrows. King Daphnes turned around slowly. "My sisters and I – we are the perilous, driving force that guide fate and destiny. That tapestry, the one which you were so raptly observing before – she is the tapestry of time. She has been woven, is woven, and will be woven eternally with the fabric of time."
"Or so I have heard." Daphnes smiled, raising one eyebrow in turn. "All I know is that I have been in this building since… since it happened."
"Quite right." Nayru smiled. "Though do you know where this building is? Dost thou know?"
"I do." Daphnes looked deep into the Goddess of Love's eyes. "It's the afterlife. Where history is created and those dead go after their transition from life, no?"
"No." When she answered, Nayru was aware of Daphnes' slight shock. "Though I could tell you, I would prefer not to."
"Are we in the Temple of Time, the Temple of Time from the older age?"
Nayru shook her head. "No. We are not."
A quiet pause. "Well, then," Daphnes began again, his smile now enveloping his face, "are we at the frontier between the living and the dead, the known and the unknown, the place where magic lurks in every corner."
Nayru nodded. "Yes, we are."
Daphnes smiled. Noticing that Nayru wasn't about to answer him, he pivoted slowly on his heel, back to the tapestry. He stroked his hand down its length once more, aware of each and every intricate pattern and delicate loop of the fabric of time. Here were the stories, the tales of countless battles – some epics, some tragedies. Here were the stories of births, the tales of death. Passing his hand over a particular design, he noticed what it depicted: a high wave, a good ship, a familiar crew, two yellow-haired, pointy-eared people, and a magnificently-clad figure falling to their death.
So. It had happened. He had died, then. He had suspected as much – nay, he had known it. His incarceration for these past months had run by so quickly it was as if the building had a different flow of time than Hyrule's. He hadn't needed to eat, drink, or even sleep, though he had drifted off into the world of dreams, many times, through one way or another, He had glimpsed his daughter, Zelda/Tetra, and her friend, Link, being visited by a redhead and a green-haired female. Now, he was being visited by Nayru, the blue-haired Goddess of Love, and suddenly they came.
The pain. The sadness. The guilt. The sadness and the pain of never being able to see his loved ones again – Zelda, his daughter, his friends from all over Hyrule, his former sailor Link. But most of all Zelda. She would have hated that, Daphnes knew – being called Zelda, that is. Just the thought made a great sadness tear at his heart with sharp claws.
He was guilty as well – remorseful, regretful. He could have avoided his death, his presence gone from the lives of those he loved. He could have decided not to go on that journey; it was a simple sail on the Great Sea, but no one had known that there would be a fatal tempest. No one had known there was a possibility of someone's death – that is to say, his. Yet, even after that, he had been the only one to plunge to his death. The others had survived with nary a scratch. Daphnes didn't know how he knew that, but he did. It was more than just instinct – the late king of Hyrule knew this. Here, in the lofty palace of time and life – the home of the goddesses themselves – magic lurked, running amuck.
When he looked up with sparkling eyes, Nayru understood. She strode over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. The two stood for that what seemed like a long while, one feeling sadness and guilt for the pains of the past, the other comforting him in his time of mental anguish.
When Daphnes' eyes opened, a deep, powerful peace was radiating deep within his heart. Nayru was still standing there, a dove now perched on her fist. When Daphnes looked at her through veiled eyes, she smiled and extended her hand, letting the dove fly toward him.
"I give you three days," Nayru said as the dove fluttered toward Daphnes and perched on his shoulder. "Three days to once more visit those you love most. Three days to tell them of your adventures and live as you once did. Though you did not want to die, you could not have avoided it."
"I've been visited by a face of destiny."
Nayru smiled. "Yes, you have, Daphnes."
He smiled back, but he was aware of his shape blurring, the room around him darkening, coming together with dark, deep swirls. He was aware of the blackness clouding his vision, threatening to take him away into the night. He was aware of everything fading, fading into darkness like himself and the dove. He was aware of all this and more, yet it did not matter –
– he was going back. He was finally returning to see those he loved most. He was finally returning.
And just before King Daphnes disappeared, he said, "Thank you, Nayru."
He thought he heard her laughing, but he could have been mistaken. It didn't matter; he had been visited by one of the three faces of destiny – his destiny was set – he was going back.
Light followed dark. It was written with the fabric of time – destiny, fate, history, what did it matter? Everything always, always had a happy ending.
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"Link and Tetra didn't realize that their Triforce pieces were still there, even though we were too." Din seemed raucous and pleased as the three goddesses converged after their meeting with the threesome; she danced happily around her sisters, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "A good development for us. It makes me happy!" she added as she twirled and bounced.
"You know, I was thinking that perhaps we should continue to live like this." Farore spoke, quiet and thoughtful. "We have always manned these looms of the fabric of time. Though no one knows it, the Triforce is but a part of each of us." She paused again, playing with a lock of viridian hair, her eyes glowing intelligently. "Perhaps we should reveal ourselves to this land, show the people that we live on and that we shall help ease their suffering."
"I don't think so." Nayru's bright eyes were calm and clear. "We are still the mistresses of fate – nay, we are fate itself. We control time and history, life and death. So why show ourselves to them? We can help those of this world so that, no matter how it occurs, good will always triumph."
The eyes of the three goddesses met; Din laughed, Nayru chuckled, and even Farore's smile stretched across her face. They liked it this way – helping their people without them realizing it, and they in turn never knowing that the goddesses existed. After all, they thought that the Triforce had all the threesome's power and potential. In reality, the Triforce was not the goddesses, as they had been led to believe – nay, it was just a small part of the three's power.
Now they all chuckled, their eyes slit and glowing in the sudden darkness that ascended upon them. They were masters of fate, and things would go their way.
Three faces of destiny, indeed.