A/N: So this was actually my first idea for an LOZ fanfiction. It takes place during TP and has nothing to do with my other stories so all that rebirth nonsense in DI doesn't apply here. Also you'll think that some of my OC characters from DI have been regurgitated here, but believe me if anything it's the other way around. This idea came to me first, I actually wrote this chapter before I started on DI, so no complaints for me reusing my characters/places, lol.
This story will follow the actual game to an extent, but a large part of it will be added stuff not seen in the game. For instance, this story will mostly consist of Zelda's point of view so she'll be playing a larger role and will likely not remain at the castle the entire time. Also note the dialogue may not be exactly the same.
A warning for unwary readers. This WILL contain spoilers. It will also contain mature scenes of torture and violence (I'll make a note at the beginning of any chapter that consists of such scenes).
Born to Rule
Chapter 1: Imprisoned
The wind blew coarsely, following the flow of water down from the gleaming banks of Zora's domain, traveling it's winding course through the cavern at the peak of northern Hyrule then to the field itself. It then banked upward as it was met with the cold stone walls of an enormous castle, and fluttered around the turrets, ruffling the black leathery wings of a shadow kargarok and breezing into the window of a high reaching tower, carrying all its chill and the scents it had gathered with it.
Zelda blinked as her hood fluttered about and tugged the hem down slightly. She gazed out over Castle Town, her point of vantage offering a broad view of the landscape. She observed her people as they went about their day as though nothing had happened, as though they had nothing to fear, as though they were not aware that their fates were in the hands of a malicious usurper.
She had watched as many of her people came to the castle delivering the food and supplies that the castle needed to sustain its inhabitants. They were quickly surprised or dejected at the castle's rather cold reception. When normally they'd be allowed entry to personally deliver their wares and be greeted with a refreshing meal and warm hospitality, instead they were rejected and forced to leave the supplies for the soldiers to gather. The nobles were upset too as the castle was the main grounds for social occasions and gatherings, and that they were no longer allowed to attend court. The citizens were no longer granted personal audiences with their ruler, to complain or praise, the temple of the Goddesses was closed off to them, and concerned family members of the staff were forbidden to visit. To say they were upset was an understatement. She imagined the gossip they contrived because of it, but that and the situation were both out of her hands.
In truth, her people were oblivious, all but a certain few who have been confined to the castle. It had been a silent takeover. Zant's troops and his shadow beasts appearing out of thin air in the middle of her courtyard where he'd proceeded to bar the entrance gates and slowly make his way up to the throne room, slaughtering guards and staff along the way. Her knights had fought well but were pushed back until they'd all converged before the throne in a desperate and futile stand.
It had been hopeless from the start. Her men had been taken by surprise and were unprepared for the sudden attack, and they faced magic that they could not hope to overcome. They'd been easily taken out, their necks twisted and throats ripped out, some left to live with dismembered limbs and many left to bleed their life away as they died of the most painful wounds.
And then, when only few remained, and with the Goddesses bearing witness, she had surrendered.
Zant had praised her mockingly for her wise choice and had her immediately dragged off before she could even attempt to heal her men.
She'd been here, locked in this tower ever since. Heart heavy with despair and grateful of her people's ignorance so that they did not share in her pain.
She expected that when the usurper was done with her he'd hold a public execution, a harsh eye opener to the people and a firm declaration of his rule. Such a sight would possibly shatter them. She held no distorted presumptions that her citizens in any way cared for her on any personal level, other than that which was obligatory as she was the reigning monarch. But the people were dependent on their ruler, the one who watched over Hyrule in the Goddesses names.
It was disparaging, but she had hope. In times of war and unrest the Goddesses always sent a hero to conquer the land and drive out the pestilence that has corrupted it. Her visions showed her the image of a hero, tall and gallant, garbed in green and face shadowed.
She would not allow her kingdom to fall to ruin, to become an evil realm under the rule of a dark dictator.
And so she waited for the green-clad hero. Until then she would hold on, until then she would not lose faith, for what had she in her desolate existence but faith and hope?
On the opposite end of the castle the council room was barred from the outside, a giant padlock secured over the door and the shimmering of a magical barrier eliminating all chances at escape.
Contained within this room were four men and two women huddled in ornate chairs on opposite sides of a long meeting table. The chair at the far end, more lavish and grand than the others, remained empty, its void left unfilled for the past week.
One of the men, the only one not seated, stood leaning against the wall looking out a tall window onto the grounds below. His brows scrunched together in a frown, his jaw clenching with discontent.
He stroked his dark beard, his long-pointed ears twitching as he listened to his fellow council members as they conversed in low tones.
"Still no sign of the princess. The servants said they were keeping their eyes peeled for any clues, but many of the areas have been sealed off, either guarded by – by those vile beasts or locks put in the doors."
He recognized the voice of lord Dukart, a middle-aged human with a round protruding belly that he noticed had been receding recently. Goddess knows a takeover made a good diet.
Lord Dukart went on. "The soldiers have counted up their numbers. They stand at two-hundred-"
"Two-hundred! Why our armies amount to over ten times that," the young and foolish lord Vance Arlen cut in, his fist hitting the table exuberantly. "If we could round them up, surround them on all sides, we could easily finish them off!"
"Are you a complete simpleton!?" the lady Yvonne Malic replied, smacking the back of the young lord's head in reproach. "Most all of the soldiers have been sent out of the castle. The only ones remaining are the ones in the know. That leaves us with less than a quarter of our men."
Lord Arlen massaged his head, wincing and visibly irked.
"Not to mention," spoke lord Dukart, "that the shear size of these shadow beasts are enough to make the men weep. The bulblins also have archers. If we can't get up close we'll be shot from afar." He tilted his head to the woman seated across from him. "What say you, commander?"
General Deborah Shira was leaning back in her seat, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the sheets of papers that she had to go through and sign. Apparently, just because they were imprisoned it did not mean they could get out of work. The usurper wanted the country to be run as it had before the invasion, with slight new implements to the laws. He didn't want the people to think that there was anything wrong, not yet at least.
Commander Shira bore holes into the papers, nose scrunched in disgust. She was a hands-on type of person and despised paperwork. But hell if Zant let her loose on the grounds. No, she had to be coiffed along with the rest of the council. As commander of the Hylian army and Minister of Defense her input was well sought out.
"You are correct in those assumptions," she said, and the man at the window noted a tint of self-disgust inflecting her tone, perhaps irritated at her helplessness or ashamed that she had been away when the takeover had occurred. "My soldiers are used to taking on monsters, but these ones possess intelligence and skill that make them far more dangerous. Not only that but the shadow beasts are difficult to fell. They raise each other from death and neither bleed nor are wounded in the ways that we're used to. And without a strong sorcerer on our side, how can we hope to match the usurper."
A collective sigh fell through the room, a long note of despair.
Lord Arlen pounded the table once more. "It all comes down to the princess. We rescue her and she can take down Zant."
The man at the window grimaced and spoke finally. "And would you, lord Arlen, risk her highness's life with such a strategy?"
Lord Arlen opened his mouth to reply then snapped it shut, pointed ears reddening in shame as he realized the dangerous proposal he'd suggested.
The man nodded and moved away from the window. "As I thought."
He felt the large gap between their ages, and perhaps that was why the young lord was not so deep thinking and patient as the rest of them were. He was not an old man himself, although gray did line his sideburns, but he did have experience to his credit and a sense of priority, the major one being to keep her highness safe at all costs. If she ended up having to duel the usurper on her own then so be it, but such a situation would arise only if all hope was lost and Hyrule was doomed anyways. If he could help it, he'd gather a support to help administer the deed. Another sorcerer if they could manage to contact one, but there were so few and he suspected many of them had been rounded up and shackled – both figuratively and literally – as they were. He'd settle for even a mage, but not many matched the princess's caliber and so would be useless in battle. At this point however, a mage was preferable to no one.
Lord Arlen cocked his head, raising a challenging eyebrow. "And what would you suggest, lord Raleigh. I dare say you've contributed the least out of all of us. At least we have spies," he hissed leaning forward in his chair, "at least we have ideas," his knuckles grew white as they pressed into the wood of the table, "at least we aren't moping around waiting for some hero to do our task for us!"
His chair knocked over as he stood abruptly, teeth clenched and breaths coming out in pants. All eyes turned to lord Raleigh, filled with expectance or disappointment.
Lord Raleigh observed him silently, neither denying nor confirming his accusations.
Waving his hands in a calming motion, lord Dukart attempted to placate the young council member. "Now now, lord Arlen, no need to get so upset."
Lord Arlen's eyes widened incredulously. "Upset! Of course I'm upset! I've been dragged from my home in the middle of the night, forced into the castle, locked away and told only that Hyrule is now under the rule of some tyrant king and that her highness's very life depends on our obedience!"
"Just calm down, lad. You're getting overemotional because of your close attachment to the princess. Princess Zelda was your childhood friend, it's to be expected that you'd become irrational when it comes to her well being."
"That she was, and I have every right to be overemotional because of it! I value her life above all others!" lord Arlen declared vehemently. "I suggested she stop Zant on her own because I know that she can defeat him! She is the most talented sorceress in all the land."
"There is something else as well," muttered lady Malic, catching their attentions. "I could sense the usurper's power. That day he brought us in, I glimpsed it, and I'm certain that it was not only his."
Lord Dukart leaned forward. "Do tell."
The others listened raptly.
Lady Malic looked about her. "There is another, a golden light that entwines with his. And even I as a simple mage can feel its enormous suffocating power. With two combined… The princess could not hope to battle that and prevail."
Lord Arlen looked crestfallen as if all his hopes had dashed in one moment. Lord Raleigh nodded. "You are right. But there is more. I may not actively do much," at this he sent a pointed glare at the young lord, who glared back haughtily, "but I do listen. One must remember that the ears of Hylians are attuned to many things. There is third power here. A great sorcerer." He paused and his tongue seemed to thicken with distaste, "Reth DeSange."
The reaction that single name created was tumultuous. Lord Arlen grew limp and made to fall back in his seat before he realized his chair was not there so went toppling to the floor, commander Shira reached for the blade at her waist and cursed when she met only empty air, the rest shot to their feet, voices hollering over each other with exclamations of indignation and repulse.
"How dare he show his face in Hyrule again. How dare he!" shot lord Dukart, his fat face fast turning purple.
"That little shite!" snarled lady Malic, indignantly. "Should have known he'd be in on this."
Lord Arlen stuttered from his place on the ground, pushing himself woozily to his feet. "Is-Isn't he the one who was expelled from the academy? Reth the sadist?"
"And masochist, and reaper, and whatever other vile word you want to add to his name," spat lady Malic, hands fisting tightly.
"You see the predicament we are in," input lord Raleigh, silencing them with his deep voice. "A usurper and a madman… the princess's death is imminent."
"No," voiced lord Arlen hoarsely, "no!"
Lord Raleigh's eyes alighted sympathetically on the young lord. He then honed in on the only person who had not spoken so far, who had remained quietly in his seat immersed in his thoughts. Lord Draven, also a youngish one and close friend of the princess, had his hands folded in front of him, supporting his chin. He was not noble born like the rest of them and had earned his place through hard work and studies, but even so his bearing was such that he emulated the nobility. His long dark hair framed his face in elegant strands enhancing his pale features and bringing out the orange in his eyes.
"You've been silent thus far, lord Draven," spoke lord Raleigh knowingly. "Have you naught to say?"
Lord Draven's eyes quickly darted up to the older lord's, appearing like a bright pair of eerie lanterns. He shifted his shoulders and smiled sinisterly. "Only that the usurper is a fool for allowing us all to meet together like this."
"Supposedly, we're working," chortled lady Malic. The others chuckled at this.
The side of lord Draven's mouth twitched, never relinquishing his smirk. "Supposedly," he muttered, then coughed, straightening up. "Ladies, gentlemen… are we all in agreement that our first matter of action should be relocating the princess to a more secure environment in order to establish her protection and safety?"
All nodded and murmured agreement.
Lord Draven continued on, eyes glinting. "Then perhaps you'd like to hear this little tidbit as to her potential location."
Lord Arlen, the eternal rival of lord Draven, scoffed and crossed his arms, sitting on the edge of the table. "Potential, he say's."
Shrugging, lord Dukart defended. "Better than what you've got at the mo'. Well, speak up, lad. What have ye to say?"
Lord Raleigh could feel the flames of hope alighting in all the council members, for if princess Zelda was found they could plan her escape and then there'd be no threat dangling over their heads to prevent them from revolting.
Assuring that he had all of their attentions, lord Draven spoke. "The servant who attends to me was told by one of the maids - Miria her name was, the darling girl - of a daring endeavor she partook in one night when she noticed a missing sentry."
They were all hanging onto his words now, their breaths shallow and nerves strained.
"Taking a chance she snuck into a banned corridor to search it. And what did she find? A darkened staircase devoid of light and life. So our lovely girl ventures to the top but dares not go farther for on the landing she sees no less than four darknuts guarding yet another set of stairs."
His orange eyes, alit with an excited glow, swept over his companions. "Do you realize what this implies?" He stood and, hands clasped behind his back, wandered to lord Raleigh's previous spot at the window as the council's eyes followed him.
Lord Arlen, a brightness in his expression that hadn't been there before, was quick to speak up. "For darknuts to be there, and two pairs of them no less, they'd have to be guarding something of great importance."
"Or someone," whispered lady Malic, her pitch rising in unbridled excitement.
Lord Draven was practically beaming at them. "It means, ladies and gentlemen, that our great and esteemed ruler awaits her rescue from that tower!" He pointed delightedly out the window and everyone shot out of their seats to look, all huddling closely.
"The southwestern tower?" exclaimed lord Dukart.
"The southwestern tower!" said lord Draven blithely. "I can see no other place she could be. Out of the banned sections, that is our best chance."
Commander Shira moved back towards the table and reached underneath it to a panel. She unlatched it and withdrew a rolled up parchment, which she then spread on the table and perused. It was a rough outline of the blueprints of the castle, made by memory and recent exploration. She started it a few days ago when it had occurred to her that it would be helpful to have an outline of the shadow monsters' routines and patrol routes. They also used it to theorize where was kept their beloved ruler.
The others came over and thronged around it. Shira took out a pen and circled the southwestern tower, writing a Z with a question mark above it and two bolded D's within the circle.
"So, now we know we have at least four darknuts in the castle. More to come, I'm sure. But, I'd like to make certain this is the location where the princess is kept," she said, capping the pen and looking over the parchment.
"But," inserted lord Arlen, "with that in mind, we can progress to formulating a plan on how to execute her rescue."
A scuffling of footsteps on the other side of the door caused them all to freeze. They waited with baited breaths until the disturbance had gone, then sighed in relief.
Commander Shira quickly rolled up the scroll and hid it in the panel.
Lord Raleigh sighed. "We haven't done much in the way of work today. I suggest we all get as much as we can done now and reconvene on the morrow."
Nods of agreement met him all around and not even the boisterous lord Arlen made to defy him. They withdrew their pens and went back to work, plugging on as best they could in these dark times.
Down on the streets of Castle Town, sergeant Clar was making his rounds with his fellow soldier. He walked slowly, a heaviness about his steps, and hardly paying attention to his surroundings. He winced at every laugh and cheery voice from the people, as if each was a nail driven into his flesh. The pair travelled their route, making sure that all was well.
His companion, a bright young private by the name of Kine, was waving and smiling at all the merry doers whenever they looked his way.
Sergeant Clar was nudged on the arm.
"Cheer up, sir. Why, with your less than amiable demeanor people will start to wonder if there's something bothering you."
Sergeant Clar dismissed the soldier for the most part, preferring to dwell on his morbid thoughts. He gazed at the dark cast sky swarmed with the most malevolent clouds he'd ever set eyes upon, then his eyes swerved to the shadows that darkened the streets. Who knew what vile evils they hid within them. They were all doomed.
What he couldn't understand was how his companion could look at it all and see light.
"Lo! That dress looks lovely on you, wonderfully charming!" the soldier called over to a group of women. Not knowing exactly who he was addressing they all giggled, flattered.
Kine smiled broadly and waved as they passed.
Sergeant Clar wanted to weep.
Most of the soldiers did not understand the reasoning for his dour mood, nor the sudden change in moods for a small minority of the soldiers. They went about their day as normal, casually wondering why only a select few of them were granted access to the castle, and curious to why those not of the select few had all been moved to the soldier housing sector of Castle Town.
The sergeant scowled. Let them all be clueless and live happily among the people. Better than living in the barracks within the castle walls themselves, where doom and gloom hung over all heads, and they had to interact with monsters and fiends and the like. Their orders written down on paper passed from the councilors to the servants to the soldiers, no longer by word of mouth, and always reviewed by one of the usurper's fiends.
A battle raged in the sergeant. To know, or not to know. To be ignorant, or to have full knowledge of the goings on in the castle. On one side, you have happy dainty soldiers, who although negligent in their training and lacking refined discipline, sufficed to protect the town. On the other side, you have a saddened and despondent assembly of soldiers. Soldiers terrified of their own shadows, who suffered from night terrors, and worst of all, were entirely helpless. And that was the torture, the inability to do anything about their circumstance. At any moment one of those shadow fiends could pop out and start tearing off heads, but they weren't allowed to kill it, not even attempt to. They were forced to stand back, go on with their duty, become indifferent to another's plight.
"Hey," said Kine, in an effort to grab the sergeant's attention. "How about we go over to Telma's after our rounds. It will be well dark by then."
Sergeant Clar winced at that very word. Couldn't he see? Everything was already dark, enshrouded so thickly it was a wonder they didn't suffocate.
"You look like you could use a bit of ale. That's where the other boys all go. You can even mope and weep with them all you want!"
"And what, pray tell, drives you to be so happy in this time of sorrow," the sergeant said in a hollow voice. "How can you be so cheerful with all that's happening, with the knowledge of all that's going on?"
The private had been one of the fortunate few in the castle to suffer only minor injuries. He was lucky that he'd merely got battered around a bit then bopped on the head and tossed to a corner. Probably just as lucky as the sergeant then. The sergeant had been with his captain defending the servant's quarters when one of the guards protecting the throne room had been dragged to them, held between two massive black monstrosities wearing the most abhorring masks he'd ever seen, and forced to relay that the castle was surrendering. That same poor guard had been towed all around the castle to pass on the message. He'd not survived in the end.
"I'm happy – I'm so cheerful – sir, because I can't do anything about it," said the private seriously.
Sergeant Clar raised his head and regarded the younger man with a quirked eyebrow. "I'd say that's more cause for discontent."
"On the contrary," rebutted the private, "that is only for those - and pardon my rudeness - too stupid to pull themselves out of their misery." He hastened on before his superior could process the words. "If everyone went around moping then nothing would get done. And I admit, there's little to be done from our side, but there is hope. We just have to trust in the councilors and the princess to pull us together and bring back the light. And if it came down to it we'd help in any way we could, but it's not our part yet. Let the higher ups plot and make their move, and if we see a chance, we'll take it. But for right now we need to gently poke and prod for loopholes. Until then allowing your dreariness to fester and pass on to the next poor innocent soul is not the way to go about things. Chin up and high hopes. Haven't you read all the stories? Evil never prevails."
The sergeant was wordless throughout the lecture. Then he blinked and finally procured a hesitant lift of the lip in a halfhearted one-sided grin.
"You'd make a great captain one day. Maybe even replace the commander eventually. Your war speeches will be the stuff of legend."
The private smiled modestly. "It's only my belief, sir. But, that doesn't mean we can't take the time to grieve. When we're alone, without an image to uphold, we should be free to express ourselves. My mam said she always did like to see a grown man cry because it showed her that he was Hylian. Just as Hylian as any other."
Sergeant Clar nodded, his face once more taking on a grim expression. "Yes, you're right..."
"So…you'll join me at the pub?"
Sighing, sergeant Clar relented. "I will."
The private laughed and grinned broadly. "Come on then. Let's finish our rounds. Maybe we can get a good table before the other boys get there."
Shaking his head, he followed after his companion who had quickened his pace and pulled ahead, rushing in enthusiasm. His eyes turned towards the castle, seeing only its turrets peeking over the rooftops of the houses, their stones seeming more grey and dark than ever. He then turned back to the private, and his eyes narrowed as he glimpsed a small black object at the base of Kine's neck. One would have never known it was there unless looking for it directly or if they were particularly observant. Latched on tightly into the skin right at the nape, its carapace partially camouflaged with Kine's hair, the beetle lay half dormant, ever listening and watching.
Sergeant Clar resisted the urge to put his hand back and feel for the shape of his own, its claws digging like needles into the flesh of his neck. He felt the urge to yank it off but couldn't. Like all the others in the know, he was imprisoned.
Zelda watched the sky and listened to the soft padding on the stairway. Patiently she waited, her Triforce humming on the back of her hand, yearning to be close to its loyal partner.
She'd left the door open a tad and the creak of it signalled the presence of the one who she awaited.
Turning, her eyes met with the ones of the blue-eyed beast, her first glimpse of the hero. She noted the manacle on his paw and felt a huge sense of relief, for although he'd been imprisoned his was the shortest of all. Nothing would keep him locked up for long, and it was with his freedom that he could roam the land and in turn liberate the rest of them.
She eyed the imp straddling his back and said softly, "so…this is the one, Midna…"
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