A/N: please ignore the fact that SS Link was supposed to be the first hero hahaha xD i tots forgot that when i wrote this.

1. Invited.

10,000 years ago,

The first time I saw him was at a marketplace. The air had been thick and dry with the combined aroma of foodstalls and various shops, the fragrance of dried persimmon mixed with zesty curry, bombastic turmeric, calming ginger and every other spice there was in the world. It was late afternoon; golden sunrays spreading its radiant glow like a spill of yellow paint on a watery canvas. The morning rush hour had come and gone, and the evening crowd had yet to arrive. People scattered around sporadically like breadcrumbs on a plate. From my position behind a crumbly brick wall, I could see clearly the object of my attention.

The hero stood off to one side, his tousled hair falling over cloudy sky eyes as he tilted his head rakishly off to one side. A small smile danced over his lips. He spared me no attention…. And really, why would he?

My hair had been darker than coal, and my eyes a flat, unremarkable gray. I was dressed in an ordinary male tunic; much like the other castle servants shopping around me….It was an easy disguise, of course. Silk white hair and pale skin, such as was my real appearance, was uncommon in these parts. My true being was very inconvenient when I desired to go about unnoticed. I watched as my target drew his sword, examining it in the sunlight.

Poor thing, he looked so bored…A coy smile twisted my mouth. It was Fi's birthday, and perhaps now I know exactly what to give her.

Surely my magnificent goddess will not mind if play with her champion…..just a little….

Swiping a small basket of fruits from the ground, I mouthed a spell to conceal my face. The ground was moist and soft, and my feet were bare, my shoes discarded the moment I got past the palace guards. I took care not to crush anything living, stepping light as if the land was laced with bombs.

The casual hero turned around at the sound of my muddy footsteps and came face to face with a stunningly beautiful girl, her arms tucked behind a generously curvy figure, a basket hanging from her hands. My now almond shaped eyes lowered to stare at him through lashes.

Let's see if the hero is truly as good as the legends say.

"E-excuse me." I whispered with all the grace of a practiced liar. He looked at me, mouth open in an adorable 'O'. "I've come bearing gifts….from a Lord..It would be an amazing honor if you would…" I held out the basket. A fresh breeze blew by silently, bringing with it the salubrious warmth of spring. The hero gave my object a surprised look and slowly reached for it with a gloved hand. His eyes shone with curiosity, glossed over with a wariness that could only come from one who always watched his back.

I gave my best winning smile as the basket left my hands. And then spun around and fled instantly.

After rounding a corner and turning out of sight and earshot, I punched in the air and whooped loudly.

Exuberant excitement! Delightful anticipation!

Fi's going to be thrilled when I tell her this. She's always wanted to see the hero in action….and I've just set him up with the biggest trial he is sure to face. Only a Lord could bring a special guest, and hidden all those crunchy apples and pears…. was a personal invitation from me, the Spirit Lord himself to the grandest swordsduel tournament in Hylia's kingdom.

Oh yes, my Lady Spirit Fi will be bouncing with joy.

As I settled into my place, the sword spirit's place besides the glorious goddess's, I whispered the news to my ruler and sat back satisfied, eagerly awaiting my hero.

2. Whole.

9,700 years ago

I stood beneath a giant oak tree with my goddess, a cool breeze playing gently with my hair. Loose snowy white robes billowed around my slender frame, hugging my silhouette like a gentle lover. I was pure, I was whole, I was happy, and the things I desired were simple.

I wanted to go outside with the hero, to venture beyond the high walls of my goddess' realm, to see the world as it was before Hylia reached out her fingers and touched it with her heavenly light. But Hylia, glorious lovely Hylia, she would hear me out and laugh and say, child you are too young, too naive for the world outside.

She would touch my cool cheek and smile then say "…My sinless, innocent, perfect spirit, you are my greatest creation, and I will not risk scarring you with the horrors of the world. You are too pure for them. Do not worry yourself with meaningless fantasies; they will distract you from your studies. When you finish them you'll be the most impressive being in this world, the most essential piece in our fight against evil…"

And kissed the top of my head and glided away. I don't know what she meant, but I was always reassured by her words. As she disappeared beyond the garden walls, I settled into the grassy land around the stream. From the corner of my eye, the handsome new hero –Link was it?– walked casually into the garden.

"Link…" I liked how the name tasted on my tongue, like warm vanilla and toasty cinnamon. I peered up at his form, sunshine glistening off golden hair. He was so wonderful, an unbreakable soul, always the same person, reborn over and over again. Hylia said I would serve him one day, when I finished my studies. I shuddered at the thought of monsters and demons… will they be large and horned, like the stories said they were? Or dangerously seductive, like those tapestries from Hell hanging in the throneroom?

The hero was trying to climb an apple tree, graceful limbs wrapped securely around the trunk.

I wondered, does he remember me? When we met in a perfumed, stuffy market centuries ago? He paid me no notice, like I was just spirit-shaped air, fleeting and transparent. I dropped my gaze to the ground; of course he's forgotten me. Memories never survive the process of reincarnation.

I fed the ducks and ogled him, awaiting the day we would stand on the precipice together, defeating evil like Hylia said we would.

3. Defeated.

9,000 years ago

Around me, the war raged and bled. I was lying on the dirt, drained and beaten. My long white hair was matted and splattered with gore, resembling ragged rope ends rather than their usual silken strands.

Face up, I stared at the sky, filled with ash and dust and pain. So different from the azure that it should be… Bodies littered the battlefield, everything was stained an ugly scarlet.

I reached my arm outwards, dragging my exhausted body across the ground in a slow and pitiful crawl. "Hero…" My voice was barely more than a cracked whisper. He laid there, blood soaked, on the ground not far from I. Golden hair was mussed and filthy; glassy eyes unseeing. Red blood trickled down from those lips, parted and still.

I pressed my stiff fingers into the side of his cold, cold, wrist. The beat of his heart was like a fatigued butterfly in a thunderous storm; frail and desperate. He was not untouchable as many believed; wounds carved his body like sick, brutal tattoos: farewell kisses from fallen enemies.

"No….no…" I, the Great Spirit Lord, whimpered like a child, bowing my head to the boy's fading pulse. Bruises did not form on a sword spirit's body; instead, marks like fractured glass ran up and down my legs. My blade was chipped and raw, and my wielder lied dying in my splintered glass hands. He was still too young, too good to die. I remembered that day, a thousand years ago, when his past self had won the tournament I invited him to. The hero had been magnificent then, faster and more striking than lightning…. a god among mortals.

Hylia tasked me with the greatest honor: to defend this angelic soul in battle, to be his sworn sword and guardian.

And I have failed.

Spirits do not cry, but this was the first time I wish they could. Hero… Surely Hylia will not let my blade go untainted with the weight of this failure. Punishment will be cruel and terrible. A chasm opened in my chest at that thought, and my eyes burned.

I kissed his soon to be lifeless hand softly, praying his eyes will open, so I can say farewell to those sky blue irises.

I thought I felt his hand tightened around mine once, and then never moved again.

4. Hope.

7,000 years ago

Charred cinders splintered under my footsteps.

I was alone, investigating the ravaged forest for any remaining signs of life with heavy heart and empty hands. All was eerily still. A horrible raid had destroyed the village, taking with it the lives of innocents and countless years of hard work. The evidence was still fresh, as last night's rain showers had recently extinguished the fire that had raged for days. Bones, human bones, were strewn on the grounds. Food for maggots. A thousand years ago, I would've been horrified the thought.

My jaded eyes, once soft with compassion and empathy, stared unfeelingly at the devastation. The smell of scorched flesh still hung faintly in the air, like old laundry left out to dry for too long. Right then the air was chilly, and I was wrapped in an old moth eaten cloak, cheap and warm, a whole world away from the expensive silks the goddess once dressed me in. Bitterness ate at me when I thought of it.

After the battle where I had failed the worst failure possible, I had fallen way down on Hylia's bad side. With a sword through my heart, she took my immortality and my title as a Lord, leaving me as little more than a human who could perform magic. Sweating, crying, death; these were all possible for me now.

Hylia said living alone, in the harsh world outside her golden realm, will teach me maturity and responsibility. I spent decades wishing for a way to redeem my mistake, to be presented with the chosen hero again. I do not know how long it will take for her to forgive me. Maybe never.

As I searched among the remains, the soft mewling of a young baby reached my ears with startling clarity. I rotated on the spot – to the source of the sound, and followed it all the way to an abandoned house, creaking and groaning, ancient wood giving its way to gale. Door hinges creaked noisily as I crept inside. Dusty air crawled down my lungs. The babe's cries were coming from a small cradle at the back, wedged between some dusty old furniture and a broken window.

Wooden furniture, a house built from wood,… Why hasn't this place burnt down by now?

I traced the wall curiously with a cold but gentle finger. Aside from a few scorch marks, it was mostly untouched. The baby's cries gradually faded as it sensed a presence. My presence.

There was strong tug inside my scarred chest, as if my heart was breaking free.

I stared at the ray of sunlight falling lightly on the cradle, illuminating perfectly the small human huddled inside; a light island of innocence and tenderness amid the dark sea of death. A golden triforce glowed on his little hand.

"….Oh."

I cried like a human.

Heavy teardrops soaked the floor between my feet, centuries of regret and misery pouring forth from my eyes. He has come back to me; the hero I let die has come back to me.

I held the babe in my weak arms, kissed his hand like I did all those centuries ago. My voice was a reverent whisper.

"….Welcome back, my hero."

Hylia has given me a second chance.

5. Grown.

6,980 years ago

"Brother!" I turned from the hero to my sweet sister's voice. The summer's day was heated and bright, so I had suggested moving training from our usual open field to a shadowed glade. A cool breeze blew through the shade as she glided up to where I stood by my tree. I watched the wind rustle her teal blue hair, looked up and down her flawless skin. She was still young, still beautiful. She was immortal.

And I was not.

My blade was dull and dying, it titanium white color fading to dismal gray. Now that Hylia has ripped away my immortality, I will age and I will die. Nobody knew this except the goddess and I. Not even Fi.

They all thought I was the same, an eternal sword spirit. An undying soul of light. My light hair fell to cover a still youthful face, but underneath, hidden under layers of clothes and garments, my dimmed ruby core pulsated weakly. It was cracked and darkened; a far cry from the eye piercing scarlet I once had a thousand years ago. The gem will be my only sign of aging.

But I don't want to die yet.

I looked back at the hero who smiled his special smile at me in return, the smile that lit up the world in warmth and sunshine. "Lady Fi," He said to her; his voice smooth like riverstreams. "Did you need something?" My sister blinked and cocked her pretty face to the side, aqua hair blowing in the wind. "Would you mind if I borrowed your master for a moment?" She spoke, melodious like music. The hero nodded, said yes, and left us to our privacy.

I watched him walk away, his back getting smaller and smaller in the distance.

My sister looked me up and down, and walked close. Too close. "Um…..Fi?" My voice was squeakier than I wanted. She grabbed the collar of my sweat soaked shirt and pulled me down, nose to nose. Her eyes were like ice as she glared at me, freezing my insides with dread. The happy demeanor from a moment ago has completely dissipated.

"Take off your shirt." Her voice was chilling. "W-what?! What is this about, Fi?" I stumbled back and attempted to remove her hands, but her grip was iron.

"Take it off!" She demanded, tugging at my shirt. I didn't know what to do. She knew. She must know. Why else would she be commanding me to strip? And how long has she known? I thought I had hid it so well… never faltering, never showing my growing weakness in front of another soul. With a broken resignation, I reached to tug my dark shirt off my shoulders, flinging it onto the ground. Underneath, my skin was almost the same color as the white bandages that wrapped around my chest. The hard edges of the ruby core protruded out through the bindings.

Her eyes were so melancholy, staring silent at the dressings. With a trembling hand, my sister unwrapped them slowly, exposing my fractured secret. I held as still as possible, afraid of her reaction. After a long silence, she whispered.

"….Why didn't you tell me?"

I looked down in shame. I didn't want to worry her, to keep her up at night wondering if I would still be alive the next morning. My sister deserved someone better than that –but the goddess Hylia, my beautiful, glorious goddess; she is not so forgiving.

We are her broken toys, functional but incomplete. I stood there and watched my sister cry the sword spirit way, her shoulders wracked by dry sobs. She was immortal, her eyes were dry ice.

I wished I could do something about it. I wished Hylia would care more. Now there were only two beings in the world capable of helping me. One is the goddess, who couldn't be bothered to worry about her creations.

And the other….. was the demon king.

6. Lost.

4,000 years ago

Sin was like a drug. It tasted exhilarating, racing through my veins with the knowledge that this was wrong, wrong wrong. The darker the deed, the higher I felt.

Tell me, Hylia, how do you feel? Do you feel angry, that your finest creation is now nothing but a desolate shell, wallowing in his mess of misery and debauchery? Or do you feel smug? Proud? That you were right all along, that I was always the trash in your throneroom, the impure soul, the wicked sword. ….Did you ever love me, Hylia? Or were you simply itching for a chance to throw me out?

You don't have to answer, my lovely goddess.

You never do.

But won't you tell me, Hylia why did you have to punish her? My sister was a gentle soul. You know she would never hurt anyone, not like I did. But when she said she wanted to see me, her very own brother, you abandoned her in Hell. You let the fire scorch her human essence and stared dispassionately at the ashes…. She trusted you, you bitch. You told her that you would bless her, protect her as she came down to find me, but the moment the she walked into the fires you lifted your protection and left her there to burn.

Now, she's nothing but an emotionless robot. You let the inferno raze the humanity out of her, scald and crumble her mortal body. Now she's has only her holy form, stuck in heaven away from me. You know that mortals cannot gaze at a spirit's true body. How will she interact with people? How will she do her job? You just left her there, in her sword staring blankly at the world. You took away everything that made her Fi. Will you create her a new body? Will you fix the burns you gave her? Is this your revenge against me, for losing my faith in you?

If she hadn't been immortal, she would be dead. But now she's just an empty husk. The real Fi would have rather been dead… I would rather she be dead.

I have a new god now, and he actually treats me well. He made me immortal, he made me beautiful again. He didn't even mind when I left to visit my dear sister. Really, Hylia. All he wants is to wield me, and he'll do anything for it. ….The demons are just are terrible as you said they were, except they're completely honest with it. They don't hide their cruelty behind the claims of 'the greater good' or say that it was all for the best. Not like you, Hylia, not like you.

And hey, it took me 4,000 years to figure that out.

….Hylia, you love flowers, don't you? It's been thousands of years, but I still remember the gardens of paradise that you kept well-tended. They were glorious, your Garden of the Goddess. Azure-tinted waterfalls flowing gracefully from floating islands into crystal clear water, flora of all kinds blooming beneath the great arching trees… It is the only place in your realm that I earnestly miss. I heard you renamed it in honor of my sister, that you made it her resting place. …Skyloft, was it? Well, your Skyloft may have all the flora and fauna in the world, but it doesn't have this, does it? Hahah ha

This is my last offering to you, Hylia, the legendary desert flower.

Careful, one brush on bare skin and you'll drop dead, but I'm sure you already knew that.

It took me centuries to acquire one, so I do hope you put it to good use. It is the only poison that can kill an immortal, and possibly the last one in existence. It is beautiful, isn't it? Such an eye catching scarlet, exactly the shade of the hero's blood. The ancient texts says it takes 4,000 years to mature, growing on desert fields where the Great War took place, stained from the deaths of countless innocents.

Without the burn of the sun, or the divine blood that twisted its organic structure, this flower would have grown a pure white water lily, stunning but harmless. But that would be such a shame, wouldn't it, my goddess? Because then it wouldn't be so extraordinarily lethal, even deadly enough to kill Hylia herself. …..Do you like it? It is your creation, after all.

Such a poisonous beauty, the color of your Savior's gore.

7. Ruined.

3,000 years ago

A wild, ferocious grin spilt my face grotesquely, sharp teeth and a red tongue on display for my victim to perceive. My sharp clawed hands dug deep through skin and inside his chest, wrapping my fingers around his beating heart, ripping him apart from the inside. I closed my eyes as I pulled, savoring the spray of blood and the ear piercing shrieks he made until he started choking on his own fluids. …Next time I'll make sure nothing obstructs the windpipe, to prolong that sweet melodious screaming.

I know nothing of love, or joy, or kindness.

Who am I?

What am I?

I don't know. I don't care. My once holy heart is drunk on blood.

I always wake up to find a flower by my head. Ever since the day I burned Hylia my last offering, a pure white water lily would appear my side sometime in the middle of the night, glowing with holy light by morning. Is this her way of showing me her faith? That I was still, deep down inside, untainted by the darkness of the universe?

Each lily had 12 petals, each of which I discovered gave me one minute of absolute clarity, clearing away the fog of blood I drowned. I didn't like clarity very well. It made me sane again, made me think.

I don't want to think.

I don't want to remember who I am, who I was, and where I am versus where I should be.

Thinking was painful. Remembering was agony.

The louder the memories, the more blood I needed to shut up my mind, but normal peasants don't give me that rush anymore. So I ripped out the Skyloftian priest's heart today. I remember choosing because his features looked familiar. Sky blue eyes, golden hair, the glow of pure youthfulness, and something… holy. He was traveling, I think, hiking alone in those pure white robes like the ones I used to wear. Like how the first three thousand years of my life was white, before it got stained crimson by the war. I'm sorry, Fi. I didn't mean to…

Haha. Hahahaha. I don't know anymore, sister. I've spent a thousand years drowned in a sea of sin. I think I know who the priest I killed was. He was a descendant of the hero wasn't he? He had that aura of goodness, the one I let die in the Great War….

I'm tired to the bone. I miss the sweet garden we used to feed ducklings in, and the lovely magic fountain where I enchanted the waters rainbow just to see you smile.

I curled into a ball on the ground, soaked in blood. For the first time in my life, I wanted to be dead. Or go home. Or go home and then die. Oh, Hylia…..I have sinned, your Holiness. I have pillaged and murdered and backstabbed. I have become everything you prayed I wouldn't.

…..But –do you still love me? Is your love limitless, like you claimed it was?

Mother Hylia, will you give up on me, now?

For the first time, I looked forward to awakening besides a glowing water lily, awaiting your nightly tribute of faith with my hands wrapped around the dried petals of earlier blossoms.

Show me your faith, Hylia. Tell me I will not burn in your sunlight, that my ruby is not the color of blood.

But your water lily never came, and I woke up to dark emptiness and the crumbled ashes of dead flora on my scarlet fingers.

a bit more to come! :) this fic took me several months to finish (mostly because I write slooooow) and it was supposed to be a oneshot, but i got to the point where i decided to just upload 1-7 and leave 8-10 for later. i would really appreciate constructive feedback to incorporate in the story so please review. uploading next part in a few days!