A/N: Alright then. So, hello everyone. For those who don't know, I am Kira of Darkness. If you decided to click on this story, I thank you for taking the time to at least check out my work here. I normally write RWBY fanfiction, however events rolling over this past year pushed me to complete Breath of the Wild after taking a break from it. After doing so, I became interested in Legend of Zelda fanfiction again, and spent what honestly felt like a lifetime just scrolling through the archives, picking out different stories that interested me. If you check my profile, you'll see what I mean. That being said, I decided to take a crack at writing some LoZ. This was one of the first pieces I came up with and have completed.
I mean, there really isn't much left to say, is there? To those who finished reading that lengthy A/N, I thank you. To those who didn't, I don't blame you. That aside, I hope you all enjoy my first Legend of Zelda story.
Majora has been destroyed. The mask, left powerless, was returned to the hands of the Happy Mask Salesman, and the moon was realigned. The near catastrophic event was soon only mentioned in passing. Legends would soon be passed of a boy from the land of Hyrule fighting against time itself to save the land of Termina from the apocalypse.
However, it was scarce to hear of the ordeals he went through. Reversing, advancing, even halting time. Many faces he witnessed, their expressions contorting as their demise inched closer and closer each passing second. He would save people, avenge them, heal them, and would be forced to revert time, and witness them break apart at the seams. He helped a little girl save her ranch from invading aliens, resisting the haunting images they laid upon him as he fought back, thrusting an arrow as they breathed closer to her barn. When he reverted time, he returned three days later; and her expression destroyed him. Blank, lifeless, a void of darkness. Her vacant stare burned his soul alive, eviscerated his moral standing. All that effort he did, all for naught. Could he save her again, however? Maybe on the final days, he could save her this time.
Another scene unfolded over and over as he scraped by, reversing time over and over to try again. A young couple, one tormented by failure and loss. His heart wrenched when he failed one day, watching on as the groom to be stood alone, staring at the mannequin. Earthquakes rocked the building they stood in, but neither moved. He remembered the groom's knees buckled, his head dipped down low. He muttered about his promise, and how he failed to keep it. The hero, distraught, fumbled with the Ocarina of Time, hastily whistling the notes to rip time to shreds, resetting their final minutes. He burned his fingers every time he whistled the Song of Time, his throat left parch from overuse. He remembered the final moments of Termina, and the couple finally engaged. Their happy expressions, full of mirth and tears, it patched his soul, bandaged his bleeding heart.
It was then, he knew, as he was forced to revert time once more, that he could not save everyone. As he stood on the Dawn of the First Day, memories of the married couple's final moments swimming in his head, blurred images of the young girl's traumatic stare, his breath hitched, and he silently wept. His deeds would forever be written in the journal, but he could not align everyone to a happy ending.
There would need to be sacrifices.
Days turned into hours, hours seared into minutes, and minutes burned into seconds. Time slowed, time halted, time even forwarded at the speed of light. The Ocarina he cradled in his hands filled with small dents and clumps of dust. The elegant paint around the whistle faded with usage, rivets in his fingers tinted light blue as he rapidly played the same notes. Songs he yearned to play in passing burned into his brain, tainted his love of music. Haunting decors and reminders of his failures played whenever he did. With every reset a new image would bury itself into his pores, adding fuel to his burning heart.
The Dawn of the Final Day came to be. This day, however, was different. He would not reset time anymore. His journal was filled with those he helped; scrawling text of his deeds to the unfortunate souls of Termina. It may not have been the happy ending he wished for everyone, but he grew to accept that failure is a necessary part of life. Time constantly ticked forward, and many would be forced to live with their mistakes. He was lucky. He could reset time at will, give everyone he could a second chance. He tried and failed many times. He would constantly weep in sorrow in Termina Field, tortured with every tick of time. The Ocarina he cherished so was an unyielding rock in the best and worst ways. The times he cried; he whispered to it with a ghost of a smile. Other times, times of failure, of heartbreak, he cursed it to the depths of the Sacred Realm. Why was he forced to burden this responsibility? Why did the Golden Three curse him with this power?
He stood upon the grassy fields on the moon. A lone tree, one that reminded him of his own journey back in Hyrule, several hundred feet away. The grass tickled his legs, long lashes whispering at the tips of his fingers. Every memory he gathered across his seemingly unending journey played before him in succession. His heart dipped and rose in rapid movement, electrocuting his very toes and stretching his constricted throat.
He heard echoing laughter; and quiet sobs. He spotted children running, arms waving in joy. Their legs trampled the soft blades below their feet. Four children ran in joy, and one huddled himself under the tree.
He approached each one of the jovial children, each one of them in possession of the remains of those he slew; those that corrupted the land of Termina. Through giggles and animated movement, they asked for his masks. Masks that he received through blood, sweat, tears. Every mask he parted with, a portion of his soul went with it. Every lost grip on his most prized possessions, his heart thumped in agony.
The children, they offered to play hide-and-seek with him, in exchange for his (un)willingness to part with his masks, his belongings. Every endeavor of hide-and-seek reminded him of the dungeons he traveled through, each mask of the bosses remains a portal into his past.
"Your friends... What kind of... People were they? I wonder... Do those people... Think of you... As a friend?"
It was a question that stumped him. He blinked in confusion, his tongue twisted and heavy.
What did the people of Termina think of him? Those he met in Hyrule too? What were their opinions about him?
"You... What makes you... Happy? I wonder... What makes you happy? Does it make... Other happy, too?"
He loved adventure, he knew that. But... What did... What did others think of his constant traveling? As he turned away from his... Friends... What did they think?
"The right thing... What is it? I wonder... If you do the right thing... Does it really make... Everybody... Happy?"
His throat tightened. Doing the right thing, it should make people happy, right? But... Does doing what's morally correct, does it appease everyone?
"Your true face... What kind of... Face is it? I wonder... The face under the mask... Is that... Your true face?"
Everyone hides behind a mask at some point in their life. Those who do not wish to burden the world with their problems, those who hold disdain and weariness for the life they live are but a few of the many reasons. Many reasons lead to many masks. But when one wears a mask for too long; what does their face reveal? Is it even the same face?
He stood before the tree once more. The children disappeared as their games were completed, vanishing with his masks. One child remained, huddled under the shadow of the tree. Majora's Mask gripped to his face as it did Skull Kid's. When he approached, the children's questioned gripped at his torn heart, covering his open wounds as he tried before. Their words rang in his ears, deafening the cheerful flutters of the butterflies around him.
The final child looked upon him, his knees against his chest, his dry hands on his naked knees. Majora's Mask tilted in conjunction his head, unblinking eyes glaring through his soul.
"... Everyone has gone away... Haven't they?" Were his words, cold and hollow. He did not answer, allowing the whistling wind to guide his unsaid words.
The boy giggled as the wind tickled his bare skin, "Will you... Will you play with me?" He hunched forward, extending his hand out. He glanced down at it; the children's fingertips were shivering. His heart beat an extra beat, ushering him forward. He nodded, and grasped the child's hand-it was as cold as his own heart-and pulled him to his feet.
A loud silence ensued as they stared each other down, their heights comparable to each other. The spikes of Majora's Mask seemingly twitched, unnerving the hero.
"You don't have any masks left, do you?"
His words were sharper than any sword he had come to understand during his travels. Ashamed, he looked away, his skin suddenly freezing.
The child only giggled, uncaring of his shame, "Well, let's do something else."
It was at this time he understood that this child did not hesitate with his words. While the other children were slow with speaking, long pauses enunciating their deep words, the child's questions were filled with childlike innocence, and a fervor he himself was not accustomed to in some time.
"Let's play good guys against bad guys. Yes, let's play that."
He noticed the child extending his arms, cupping in both hands a new mask. One of white hair, blue and red tattoos, and a vacant, void stare. His heart twisted as he was reminded of Romani, the poor ranch girl who reunited him with Epona. A tear slipped down his cheek as he accepted the gift from the child, clutching the ends of the mask tightly.
"Are you ready?" He blinked, a chill shooting down his spine. The child's words were suddenly filled with venom, a hatred that he remembered the Skull Kid possessed when he was the owner of Majora's Mask. With the Skull Kid, however, that childlike behavior still tinted his words.
With this child, however... There was no playful tone, no sense of fun.
It was somber and hollow.
"You're the bad guy. And when you're bad, you just run. That's fine, right?"
His heart sank. Was... Was Majora claiming him to be the villain? All his work to save Termina, and Majora just tosses it aside into the wind. And now, he was being told to run, like the bad guy he truly was.
The mask in his hands shook, and he glanced down. The endless void stared back at him, like before. But now, silent words accompanied his stare.
Destroy Majora.
"Well... Shall we play...?"
_
A hexagonal room of color surrounded him, making Link nauseous. The new mask was still in his hands, looking up at him. He shook his head and pocketed the mask in his satchel, ignoring the rumbling from it as he did. He stepped forward tentatively, his shoes echoing in his ears. A light burst from his chest, and he paused, the warmth of the glow easing and frightening him. One by one the monster's remains exited his satchel, floating before him. They spread out along the walls, connecting with the vibrant stands. A loud echo accompanied each smash, ringing the boy's ears and eliciting a pained growl.
Another rumble caused him to stumble, and he darted his eyes forward. Majora's Mask rested against the stone sun plastered along the rainbow wall. Its eyes snapped open, orange orbs glaring him down like the plague. Link's heart thumped and vibrated, and he shivered under the daunting stare. Link stepped back unintentionally, his fear rising with each passing second. The mask suddenly jutted off the wall, its spikes shaking with glee. Red tendrils sprouted from the back of the mask, and he only looked on in fear and awe. Bile rose in his throat as the red streaks of muscle extended, almost touching the floor.
Was the Skull Kid subject to their grasp when he held the mask to his face?
It suddenly exclaimed in a shrill squeak and charged forward. Link rebounded back, narrowly avoiding the sharp protrusions. His tunic was unfortunate, however, suffering a small cut from a wandering tendril. He shakingly landed back a few feet, eyes narrowed as he watched the mask float nonchalantly above him, its spikes flapping like wings. He grit his teeth and pulled the Gilded Sword out in his left hand, his Mirror Shield clutched in his right. Majora's Mask cackled inaudibly, flattening itself into the air before spinning. The tendrils whipped every which way, following the will of its master. It dove at him, and he jumped away, the air slicing around him.
Majora's Mask clattered against the wall, reverberating from the sudden strike. It collapsed, facing downward against the hard surface. Link thought quickly and pulled his bow out, nocking a Light Arrow. He let it fly with as quick a speed as he could, and the arrow connected with a sharp slice. Majora cried in pain, quivering against the floor. He took his chance and leaped at the mask, slicing his sword through many tendrils.
It let out another shrill cry, sending him back a few steps, and rebounded into the air. Through the vibrations haunting his head, Link could visibly spot missings strands of the red flesh he viciously separated. A grin split his face as it whimpered silently, its green eyes glaring down at him. It charged again, mimicking the same attack as before. As he dodged this time, however, it read his movements and snapped its trajectory to his new destination. Link's eyes widened as he quickly held his Mirror Shield in a haphazard block. His weak posture could do nothing to stop the whipping tendrils, and his shield was smacked away.
He succumbed to the merciless attacks on his unguarded body. New gashes and deep purple bruises formed all across his body, before being flung back into the wall that held Goht's remains. His head whirled around in a not so dissimilar manner to Majora as he fought to stand, his sword now joining his shield in displacement. He wiped a trail of blood from one cheek, ignoring the deep throb in his opposite cheek, and wearily blinked at the mask. If he wasn't so nauseous at the moment, Link could've sworn Majora was laughing at him. He scowled and stumbled over to his sword, Majora floating above him and watching him with great interest.
She is too powerful for you.
His head pulsed as he reached his sword, falling to his knees. His arms whimpered as his muscles tensed under his added pressure to keep him on his knees. He blinked vacantly, staring at his Gilded Sword in thought.
What was that voice that just spoke to him?
Snatching the former Kokiri Sword from the colorful ground, he grit his teeth as he stood again. Majora let loose another shrill screech, before charging him.
Link grimaced in pain as he narrowly dodged the tendrils, nocking another Light Arrow. It made direct contact with the tendrils, as they flung into the air, weaving erratically before the mask collapsed onto the ground again. With more strokes of his blade, more tendrils separated from Majora's Mask, littering the rainbow ground with twitching blades of flesh. Majora knocked him away again as it weakly floated into the air again. It didn't scream this time, however, instead of letting its scream echo across the hexagonal room, a small earthquake shook him off his feet. He landed on his butt with a wince, and snapped his head back and forth in confusion.
One by one, the masks of the monsters that tormented Termina plucked themselves off the wall, floating in a similar manner to the evil mask. His eyes widened as the remains circled him menacingly, and he quickly shot to his feet, gripping the Gilded Sword in both his hands. Majora let out its famous screech and floated counterclockwise around the hero this time, the masks spinning clockwise. He clenched the sword harder, hunching his posture in the off chance he was forced to roll away. He kept his slanted eyes on Majora's opaque ones, the glittering orange sclera clashing with its green iris'.
He felt a sudden pressure on his, and let out a silent scream as he toppled on the ground. Something hit him, and it hurt like the Goddesses. He smashed his teeth together in a vain attempt to sideswipe the pain that jolted his lower back. With a groan he shuffled to his feet, his knees wobbling. His eyes glided across the room, searching for whatever almost blasted his spine to smithereens.
As he did so, however, he failed to notice a low hum originating from the tendrilled mask. It lifted what was left of its murky red muscles into the air in random directions, forming a lopsided sun. Its eyes glistened, a faint orange beam pulsing from its pupils. It formed just a few inches in front, morphing into a ball of fire. Link blinked, recognizing the unmistakable sizzle of fire. He whipped his head around, eyes widening as Majora's Mask launched the flaming beam at him. His mouth parted in surprise, drying quickly under the intense flare of light barreling towards him, before jumping away. The beam seared the floor at where he once was, to which Link suddenly felt very glad his reflexes were still with him.
His private celebration was not to last, however, as the beam started gliding towards him, steam flung to the sky behind the fast-moving laser. Link gasped unintentionally, bumbling back to his feet, before running. He didn't know why he was running, it wasn't like there were any places he could hide.
You fool! She is toying with you! Listen to her!
Despite his wish to ignore the sudden inclusion of the voice in his head, he complied. Link focused his ears as he expertly dodged the laser, and his blood chilled - inside and out. The voice was right. Behind the constant squeal of the fiery beam, he could scarcely make out a girlish giggle. His eyes narrowed in anger. He was being toyed with! He was its plaything!
His train of thought was torn from him as his feet caught something, tripping him over. Link groaned, blinking away his distorted vision, and glanced over at what caught his feet. His Mirror Shield caught his investigation, just a short distance from him. He almost jumped to grab his shield, but the dull pain in his ankle prevented him from doing so. That and the laser was gaining on him. With a slight limp he stood, ignoring the bolts coursing through him. The beam passed over his shield, and Link widened his eyes in realization. The beam deflected off his shield and shot straight at Goht's remains. The mask disintegrated under the intense rays, and Majora cried in anger, interrupting its concentration. The beam disapparated as the mask whirled around the building, Link musing at its tantrum.
Not wanting to waste another second, he dove for his Mirror Shield, a wave of comfort washing over him as it snapped securely around his arm. Majora recollected itself and spread its tendrils again. Link was prepared and readied his shield, his sword absent from his grip again. He would worry about it later though. Majora charged the laser and fired wildly. The fire that swirled around the beam was less focused; a testament to how angry Majora was at the moment. The laser collided with his Mirror Shield, the force of the beam sliding his body back a few inches. His bruised ankle swell under the pressure he applied to keep him steady, and he grit his teeth under the intense heat.
His arm tensed as he shifted the shield around, looking for the easiest way to reflect it. After a moment of the beam violently whipping around the room, he refocused the laser back at Majora's Mask. It shrieked in grand fashion, and the beam disintegrated again, only this time the mask jolted to the ground again. Before Link was given an opportunity to rush towards his Gilded Sword and set his anger free on the miscreant, a white blob exploded in front of him, the shockwave pushing Link back another inch. He glared at the direction of the energy ball and scowled as he saw the mask of Twinmold form another white ball.
So, it was one of the masks that attacked him earlier. It shouldn't be too surprising, the masks were and are still under the spell of Majora. Still, it hurt him that more of the masks he felt close to was ripped away from him like this. A frown graced his face as he stared at Twinmold, his heart in a lingered thump.
She will take advantage of your weakened state. Allow my power, and we can rip Majora from this realm.
The voice is clearer this time, sending chills down his spine. Majora was still writhing on the floor, the remnants of its tendrils whimpering against the multicolored floor. That voice, it sounded sinister, angry. Could it be? Link paused, reaching for his pack. His fingers caught something cold, and another chill went down his spine. Slowly, he removed the item in question, holding it to his face.
The mask that child gave to him held its silent, endless stare. Something radiated off of it, but Link couldn't put a face to it.
Use my power, and we can end her.
Link's eyes widened. The mask, the mask was talking to him! He almost let the inquisitive object slip from his trembling fingers. Narrowing his brow, he glared down at the stoic mask, as if daring it to speak again. Suddenly, another shrill scream tore his ears apart. Link dropped the mask in shock, clutching his hands over his ears. His eyes slammed shut, brows knitting together in agony. When the screech finally ended, he carefully slanted his eyes open, before widening them in shock and disgust.
Majora's Mask fluttered about in the air. The tendrils slowly retracted into it, accompanied by wet, piercing noises. Arms and legs sprouted from the mask in rapid succession after the slants of muscle retracted, and a large, singular green eye jumped from the top of the mask, horns sprouting from either side.
Before Link could make sense of the veiny monstrosity that appeared before him, it suddenly broke out in interpretive dance, striking a valiant pose before jumping around the arena. Link couldn't help but stare in open confusion, his brain throbbing in agreement. A few seconds passed before he was thrust back into reality by a swift kick to his chest. Link propelled into a nearby wall, groaning in miserable suffering. His ribcage was probably shattered by this point, little protrusions pressuring different points of his heart. He ignored the sickening feeling though, and shakingly stood up.
The dull throb everywhere was evident now. Finally, Link noticed the blood that graced his arms and legs. Different shades of purple cascaded along his body. Cuts and gashes of varying sizes and shapes were circled with dried blood. His hands were a sight to behold as well. Rough, dirtied, bloodied, and worn.
How old was he again?
Link resisted the urge to chuckle to himself, watching whatever the hell Majora was at this point prance around the room in varying dances that he couldn't even recognize. The three remaining masks floated vapidly, mirroring erratic movements from one another. He couldn't help but find himself intrigued at the predicament he was placed in, before the gnawing pain in his body forced him back into reality.
He brought himself to his feet once more, now accompanied by a profound pulse that echoed across his tormented body. He stumbled as he put his injured ankle on the ground, and he collapsed again.
You are too vulnerable to fight such an entity. I urge you, use my power.
Link blinked, momentarily forgetting the pain that enveloped him, and turned towards the mask that laid a few feet before him. He could feel the power radiating off the mask again. Through his muddled mind, however, Link understood. That power, it was wrapping around him, pulling him towards it.
She is only toying with you. She wants you to run.
Link remembered what the child under the tree in the moon had told him.
"You're the bad guy. And when you're bad, you just run. That's fine, right?"
If it was indeed the mask that was talking to him, it was right. He turned his aching neck around, staring down the jovial entity that danced before him. He could clearly see a form of mirth swimming in its singular eye. Suddenly, it bounded towards him, holding its arms in position over its chest and kicking its legs out. Link's eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet, wincing as his ankle screamed in pain. He shuffled over to the mask hastily, the quiet giggles of Majora increasing in volume. As his fingers slipped under the blank mask, another bone-crunching kick rebounded him. Link jumped around like a fish out of water, groaning in anguish with each slam. He landed on his back, blurry vision mixing with the nauseous colors of the ceiling.
The mask was still clung to his ruthless fingers, fresh blood dripping onto it.
You are a fool if you think you can kill her!
His head throttled in pain, and Link groaned. He held the mask up, its black eyes glaring down at him. Droplets of blood fell down his hands and arms, burning his torn flesh.
I cannot stop you if you wish to continue this foolishness. However, if you do not abide by my words and fight Majora as you are you, we will all perish.
Link swallowed hard.
Use my power. Make her regret her decision to treat you as her toy.
His heart beat slowly. His lips dried up. His blood ran cold. With shaking limbs, he slowly stood, body hunched in pain. The mask never left his arms, its empty glare boring into his tattered soul. He straightened his stance, and stared down Majora. It halted its intricate dance, clots of red forming from the circumference of its eye. Unblinking, it stared down at him. The masks too ceased their movement, forming behind the muscled monster. All was silent as he cast his gaze down at the mask once again. It did not respond this time, did not silence his numerous thoughts. Slowly, he turned the mask around and raised his arms.
The power slipped onto his cheeks as he brought it up to his face. The unrelenting torrent of energy wrapped around his face and neck, clinging to his sickly form. It pulsed across his body like a shot of adrenaline. Link could feel his warm, shallow breath as the mask nestled onto his face.
Ba-dum...
Ba-dum...
A torrent of pain swamped his body. Link screamed as his muscles exploded under the thunder. His knees buckled under the sudden influx of energy, and the tips of his fingers burned in ceaseless agony. The mask encased itself around him, and he fought to remove it to no avail. He stumbled back, craning his neck backward. Link dropped his arms as they succumbed to the unending lightning bolts that eviscerated his nerves. With one final blood-curdling scream Link's eyes tore open, blood trickling into his eyes.
...
He was breathing heavily, that was assured. The pain slowly retracted from his body, leaving imprints of pure power. His muscles tensed and relaxed under the inundation of energy. His wounds felt nonexistent, every scar and bruise receded, folded over with a warm blanket. He blinked his eyes open and stared forward.
Majora stood still, sole green eye unblinking. While that was weird, given how insane it was just a minute ago, what took Link by surprise, even more, was his height. He stood at level with the pointed edge of Majora's Mask. He propped his mouth in silent curiosity, wondering how he had achieved such a feat. There was no Master Sword to turn him into his future self, so how could he be as tall as he was in another time?
Another scream of anger sent Link back a step, an accompanying shock going up his spine.
"How dare you interrupt our play time!"
He blinked in confusion, narrowing his brow. He understood the screech of the beast this time. How? Before it was just white noise and shrill agony.
"You reap what you sow, Majora. You understood the consequences when handing that boy the mask."
Link internally gasped. That was not his voice that spoke, those weren't even his thoughts. With a quick ferocity, Link jolted his hands to his face, and almost lost his composure. His once bare, scarred hands and forearms were guarded by dark gray gauntlets, red rings forming over the length of his hands and mid-forearms. His upper arms were covered by a skin-tight dark blue clothing, leaving little to hide his muscular physique. Draping his shoulders was a sleek white tunic, and Link followed the cloth, glancing down at his chest. His entire body was covered by a heavy, sleeveless silver armor, a golden moon carved on his right breast and a triangle over his left. Gold trimmings fastened over various parts of the armor, and leather straps were fastened on his upper chest. The white tunic that splayed over his shoulders fit nicely under the armor, and the blue jumpsuit, Link noticed, was over his entire body, not just his upper arms.
"Why must you always ruin my fun Fierce Deity!?" Majora's shrill, feminine voice bled Link's ears again, and he turned his attention to his foe, brow raised as he watched the embodiment of insanity stamp its foot into the ground. Fierce Deity? Was that who Link was right now?
"I see time sealed within that mask has plagued your mind to forgetfulness," The deep, hoarse words slipped from Link's mouth again. While slightly more prepared for the invading voice, Link was still summarily confused as to why he sounded like this. Was it the Fierce Deity who weaved these words, spoke in such a sharp tongue? Link subconsciously lifted his hands up again, resting his left palm over the hilt of a blade attached to his back. Curious, he unsheathed the weapon, holding it to his face, almost dropping it at the sudden shift in weight.
It was a double helix blade; one side a sky blue, and the other a forest green. Link looked on in amazement at the beauty of the weapon held deftly in his hands. It shimmered against the colorful walls that plastered the battlefield, increasing the allure of the two-handed sword. Link swung it around lazily and was pleased with the sleek swipes he tore through the air.
An untraceable squeak of rage filled the room, and Link snapped back to Majora, sliding into an aggressive stance. Insanity incarnate charged at him, legs kicked out. It swung its arm wildly, akin to a child throwing a tantrum. Link shuffled his feet to the side, gracefully avoiding the child on a sugar rush. He swung the double helix sword in a horizontal slash, grinning as the blade contacted Majora. It squeaked in surprise and fell onto its face. Link raised the sword high above, a low stream of energy humming in his ears. He swung the sword downward, eyes jolting in astonishment as a cylindrical beam burst forth, striking the fallen Majora. It squirmed and shrieked, its body outlined in a vibrant blue light.
Link retracted the blade, eyes dancing in amusement at the power his weapon was graced with.
A powerful blade indeed, comparable to that of your precious Master Sword.
Link swiveled around, a frown replacing his forgotten grin.
When I blessed you with my power, I was connected with your brain, your memories. I know everything about you Link.
His grip tightened around the sword, a scowl slowly forming.
Don't play dumb with me. You knew the consequences.
Link grimaced at the sharp tone, but he did not argue.
I am the Fierce Deity.
Link nodded solemnly, he guessed that from Majora's - quite amusing - reaction.
When you bound yourself to that mask, you allowed my freedom. As such, you can understand her as well as I.
He nodded again, staring forward blankly. He did not wish to question at the moment, as his brain was already brimming with endless questions he had gathered along his grueling journey.
You wield an immense amount of courage and bravery to distort time at your leisure. Many in your shoes would crumble at the very whisper of such a responsibility.
Link only sighed, casting his eyes down at his feet.
I will not decide whether you are truly brave or are incredibly foolish as to continue your journey after Hyrule, but you have my respect nonetheless.
He scoffed, fighting the bubble of laughter that simmered in his stomach. Majora shrieked to life once more, stumbling back to its feet. Its legs wobbled as it shuffled forward, arms extended. Link could point out every inch of its pulsating muscles, and his neck tensed in disgust.
She was once a creature of beauty, corrupted by the taunts of dark power.
Link furrowed his brows, but was not allowed time to ponder the Fierce Deity's somber words. Majora charged forward once again, spinning like a ballerina.
"You are much too old for such a silly dance, Majora," The Fierce Deity mocked, to which Link quirked his mouth in amusement. Majora stuck her bent leg outward, a move that reminded Link of a spin attack. He ducked under the swirling ligament and sliced his sword upward, chopping Majora's leg clean off. It shrieked in anguish, jumping on its sole leg before collapsing. The three remaining masks shook in anger, charging silver balls of energy from their stoic mouths. Link raised a brow and held his sword at his side, the nearly inaudible hum of power vibrating his fingers again.
The masked closed their distance with one another, and Link swept forth, slicing the air in two. The bright blue beam of energy ripped the still atmosphere and electrified the masks. They floated in haywire, before disintegrating moments later, ashes dripping to the ground. An earthquake burst forth a moment later, and Link forced himself to steady under the ripples, slamming his double-handed sword into the ground as a rock. Link whipped his head back and forth, and his eyes widened as they laid upon the quivering form of Majora. It lifted itself as best as it could, its arms shaking violently.
"You will not live to see the light of tomorrow!" Its shrill cry buckled Link's legs, and he slipped to his knees, teeth grit together. He watched in awe as Majora grew its leg back out, and its muscles convulsed, expanding outward. The shaking ceased, and Link stood with shaking legs, holding onto his sword for support. Majora stood as well, facing Link. The transformed boy dropped his mouth as he witnessed Majora shift once more. As stated, its muscles filled further, adding tone and depth. The mask developed with its muscles, morphing with the body, no longer just an addition as its previous incarnation. Its green eye burrowed beneath its mask - now a chest - and a full, veiny head rippled from its stringy body. Its mouth quivered and shook, red, jagged teeth jutting forward. Two additional eyes formed beneath the green organ placed atop its forehead. It stretched its arms out, shaking, as two massive whips burst from its hands.
Transformation complete, it eyed Fierce Deity Link with a murderous stare, muscley mouth adopting various scowls.
"Majora," Fierce Deity said curtly. Majora tilted its head at him, Link thinking for a moment it was going to swing its head around like Gaebora.
"Fierce Deity..." The prepubescent tone of Majora's last incarnation was all but absent. Instead, its voice was deep, throaty. It still held its feminine edge, but this voice commanded authority. Link involuntarily shivered at the booming tone. Majora stepped forward, its two tendrils shuffling against the ground. Link grimaced and stepped back, yanking his sword from the ground.
"You are a fool to challenge me once more. I have learned of your tricks, I have studied your arts. I will not fall as easily as before," With that Majora launched a whip forward. Link jumped back, his ears ringing at the echo of the tendril as it snapped at the ground.
"Overconfidence is a flimsy shield, Majora. I thought you better than that," Link launched a sword beam outward, but Majora casually snapped a tendril up, destroying the circular beam before it hit.
"I have been afforded many, many years to think upon my incompetence. You, however, painted yourself a Hero, a God, for sealing my power away. Overconfidence wrought your downfall, subject to a similar fate as I," As each sentence ended Majora's attacks gained agility and strength. Link grit his teeth as he parried or dodged the strikes, his shoulders tensing with each crack of a whip.
"And as such, you force yourself upon a child. The great Fierce Deity drawn so low as to require a boy to release your latent strength," A stray tendril latched itself around Link's arm, and he was yanked forward. His sword dropped to the ground with a clang behind him as he was tossed around like a ragdoll. Despite the protective armor around his chest, his body quaked and shivered with each deafening impact against the walls and floor. Majora watched, unblinking, as it tossed Fierce Deity Link like a plaything. Finally, it wrapped its other tendril around Link's legs, binding them together, and lifted him high into the air.
Link grunted in pain as he struggled against the binds, using his free hand to try and rip the tendrils apart. Majora watched in void amusement, before snapping its arms downward. A massive lightning bolt of pain coursed through Link's body as he slammed onto the floor, bouncing into the air once as Majora unleashed its arms from him. His wrist and legs whimpered in pain as cold air touched his once bound ligaments.
Majora watched with vague interest as its mortal enemy slowly stand once more, his tunic flowing with the wind over his shaking shoulders.
"I guess I underestimated your strength," The Fierce Deity chuckled as he cracked his neck. He snaked his arms up in a protective stance, fists clenched in waiting. Majora blinked, its stare boring though Link, before it shot another tendril outward. Link watched patiently as the whip neared him, before he shot an arm out, snatching the ligament. Majora squeaked in surprise, dropping its guard long enough for Link to twist the tendril and bring his foot down on it. With a mighty tug, the muscle tore from Majora, a grin fixating on his face as the beast cried in agony, retracting its limp limb.
"You monster!"
"Strong words from someone like yourself. Need I remind you of your heinous actions that forced my hand?"
"You are as guilty as I, Fierce Deity."
Link felt his lips twist into a grimace without his command, and his mind whirled in confusion.
Do not listen to her tricks. She is a master of manipulation.
His head throbbed, and he let the tentacle slip from his grasp, bringing his hand up to run it through his hair. More questions were added to the thousands already in place. His heart panged in confusion and sorrow.
"Listen to me boy. I know you can understand me. The Fierce Deity is a treacherous creature. He was revered as a God after sealing me away in that sacred mask."
Do not listen to her Link!
"His own ego blinded him. The cheers of the crowd that chanted his victories; deafening him to the darkness that slowly consumed his heart. What were once cheers became screams. What was once-"
End her Link! Let not her words spill further!
Link cried out in agony, his head pulsing and throbbing in agonizing pain. He dove for the double helix sword, gripped it with ferocity, and raised it high. The hum of energy blazed in his ears, and with a final scream of defiance, slashed the sword downward. The energy exploded in a violent crackle, unbinding from the sword in a flash of light. It shot directly at Majora, viciously contorting and pulsing. It connected with a loud pop, and Majora shriveled and convulsed, the blue light swamping its frame. Smoke piled in the air as the energy zapped the life from Majora. With a shriek that was sure to haunt Link's nightmares, the body disintegrated, leaving nothing left but the ashes.
A/N: So, I saved this little point for last for obvious reasons. I never actually played Majora's Mask. I watched quite a few Let's Plays on it (the biggest help being Chuggaconroy's LP of it. Love his works, in the top three of my favorite YouTubers of all time), so I hope my noobishness on this subject didn't show too much. However, the reason why I wanted to write this was that the Fierce Deity is one of my all-time favorite characters in the Zelda Universe, hands down. His design, his fighting style, his lore; all of it. Hell, I spent $50 on a Japanese MM Link amiibo because I wanted Fierce Deity's outfit in BotW.
I digress, however. Thank you, everyone, who read this story, and, well, I hope you liked it. I know I'm new to this, and it can be a little daunting to break into something as well established as LoZ. However, you don't get anywhere without trying, and as such, that's why I'm posting this near Christmas, to elevate my nerves a little. Happy Holidays everybody, and a Happy New Year on top of it! :D