Iscariot

Gods weren't meant to bleed.

I wasn't meant to be hurt. I wasn't supposed to be lying here, dying, lions ripping apart my flesh, stranded and alone as I faced my destiny.

Gods weren't meant to have mortal affairs, mortal feelings, mortal wishes, mortal wants…

Want. Had I ever done what I wanted? Or had I only done what they asked me to?

The three of them, standing there, watching from above, shaking their perfect heads in disdain, all mouthing Hylia you fool over and over in their perfectly synced way.

Hylia you fool.

The three of them, the three golden goddesses, leaders of all. Perfectly sculpted bodies, oddly distorted as my vision skewed, all of them appearing to almost fall over me as I felt my skin shredded by ravenous teeth, lies, all lies, all lies…

Hylia, you fool.

Forgive me, Link…

To wake up in another life was always disorienting. It was never quite something I would get used to, and similarly, finding myself back at home in the Spiritual Realm was never quite the same. I say home in the loosest of terms - I did know my sisters no longer considered me a goddess on their terms, both because of and despite the mortal blood in my immortal veins - but I considered it home. My spirit always found its way back here, despite the different forms my body would manifest itself in. Sometimes I was Nayru's chosen, the sweet maiden, and in this body I would sit peacefully by the violet streams, tasting the flowery breeze on my lips, and sometimes Farore's chosen would come sit beside me, and the two of us would spend timeless moments silent. Sometimes the sweet boy came back as a youth, a fairy bouncing about his head. Sometimes he came as a strong, silent man, but no matter how he came, he always recognized me with a joy that would not have been possible in the earthly realms, a boundless, free mirth that would have made me tear up had it been possible in the Spiritual Realm.

But other times, I was Hylia. My sisters, in their divine power, allowed me to keep my old body, and my old name, whenever I was called back, but no longer allowed me to be called by the title of what I once was. I accepted it gladly. I did not know their game, nor their plans, but I had never regretted my sacrifice. Yet I sometimes wondered if my older sisters only allowed me back into the Realm because Nayru cared especially for me, as both the reincarnation of her chosen and her youngest sister - Farore seemed, at least through some link to her chosen, to at least care a little, but Din simply ignored me. I had grown used to her fiery disposition, but it never hurt any less when my sisters would welcome me back with wreaths of lilies and loving kisses, but Din would stay far behind, offering only a nod as if we had seen each other yesterday, not a century ago.

I suppose, however, when you're a goddess, time means little. Most things mean little. Farore once looked at me, eyes indicative of curiosity at Link's head resting toward my collarbone, breathing deeply, asleep. Without speaking, she asked me what he meant to me. Why he meant anything to me.

He is only a hero, Hylia, she said, ending the stream of thoughts and ideas between our minds. You cannot get so attached.

He is your chosen one, Farore! How can you not be grateful?

She shrugged carelessly. He is merely a tool being used properly. His personality, his spirit, while worthy of the task, are yes, special in this sense; but he is nothing more than this eternal spirit. He is not the boy you know on earth.

I clutched him to me possessively. You don't know him, Farore. I do.

Her golden eyes glowed, and I read sadness, pity, in her eyes and mind.

Oh, but Hylia, she murmured. How you don't.

I would hear my sisters conversing about me. They made no attempt to hide it. Nayru, in her divine wisdom, would stay silent, and in these times she shielded her true thoughts away from us. Farore always had her chosen in mind, and despite her words, her thoughts seemed to express her true concern for the boy. Din would argue, as she always did. And we all supposed she did have some things to be angry about.

It was no secret that Demise's spirit had corrupted her chosen one. It hurt Din, more than she would admit to us. It hurt her, to see the man she put her own faith into, fail. Even before he had stolen our relic through Demise's lust, she had chosen him, hoped to lead him away from that insatiable desire, but felt that she had failed him. True to her nature, when he joined us in that sacred realm, she ignored him.

Only parts of him were allowed, the parts still pure, the parts still made of man and not monster. When he came, he was always that man. He never changed. His hair was as fiery as Din's, skin a warm bronze. He always smelled of desert sands, a warm, comforting scent, and his golden eyes seemed to reflect his goddess'. He would see me, smile brightly, both of us cleansed of our parts on earth. He and the boy would play endless games, laughing. Ah, the bliss of the two, in this divine Garden of Eden, a garden where our sins were forgotten, and he was no longer the King of Evil. I was not Princess Zelda, and he was not the Hero of Legend. Here, in this beautiful lie, we were not our earthly counterparts, destined in an eternal struggle, but beings bonded by courage, power, and wisdom. They knew not who we were, or where we were, for they never questioned. They lived in ignorant bliss, and I watched them enjoy all they thought they had ever known, and it soothed my guilt slightly. But it never did cure it. I bore the burden of that knowledge, and I was happy to do so. Anything to let them be happy. Anything.

Compassion for Din's chosen, compassion for the poor man. Here, he was happy. On earth, he was torn apart by man and monster, never able to pull away from his unbearable curse. Always destined to fight against the odds, against the inevitable. I pitied him, heart always growing harder at Demise as I watched the man he cursed blossom.

Love for Farore's chosen. I could never deny it. Yet I never let my sisters know. Nayru, I was sure, could tell, but had never remarked upon it, for which I was grateful. She, at the least, knew the true reason I had given up my divinity, and the quenchless desire I felt for the Hero.

Confusion for Nayru's chosen. I was her, in every sense of the word; yet I was different than the other chosen ones. In the Sacred Realm, I retained my memories, and in life, they always returned. My sisters no longer treated me as a consort, discussing without me, yet I also retained my mental link to them. Sometimes I took my old form, sometimes I took her's; yet it never mattered. Perhaps it was simply to preserve what was left of me as Hylia, did my sisters refer to me as such; maybe they had an endgame I was not aware of.

As it turned out, they had more than an endgame - they had a plan.

A/N: Yay I wrote more stuff! Thank you to anyone who read Instant Crush. So, a little about this new big story - I wanted to start off with all this headcannon of my ideas of the Sacred Realm and the relationships between the chosen and the gods. This story will be alot about origins of the goddesses, definitely the Fierce Deity, and hopefully I'll be able to add Majora and the like to the mix. A lot of this is speculation of course, but it'll all be in a regular narrative format. This will be an actual story...once I figure out the plot. I'll get there. I'm hoping on regular updates, but please review if you are interested, feel free to PM me ideas, anything! Thank you so much for reading.

Love, Ace