One:
Baby
I don't know really how this one came about... This solution, I mean. I had planned, after screwing up with magnificence and grace in the creation of the Mirror of Twilight, to try and keep to the status quo with as much precision as I can. I wanted to hermit as much as possible, but still be with my tribe, my people, until the last minute.
I still haven't decided if this choice is the right one. Or if it's even a good one. I... damnit, maybe I should have remained aloof, even through the mild dismantling of Koume and Kotake's power base.
I'm not making sense. Not even to myself.
Deep breath, Raiha.
So.
My friend, Nielesi, gave birth today. The old king died last week, of extreme old age. Nielesi's child is a boy.
The two witches present decided that he should be named Ganondorf.
I should have left then. Should have walked out of the room, and left the tribe to the hell they were about to unleash upon themselves.
But Nielesi... she was dying. I couldn't save her, couldn't stop it. She wouldn't let me. But she said I was to be her son's guardian. His new mother.
The old hags don't like me. The feeling is mutual. She said it loud enough that they heard. If they could have killed me then, they probably would have. Again, the feeling is mutual.
I... One doesn't argue with a dying Gerudo mother's wish. And Nielesi was my friend. She didn't try to make me make... sense. When I was sad, she was there just to sit and let me be upset until I could shake it off. When I was content, she was happy too.
I suppose she was in love with me. I loved her too, but my way of loving is so very different. I dare not love to deeply, because in my life, these people are transient. They will die, and I will continue on.
In any case, now there is a newborn boy in my room, and I do not know what to do. Part of me wants to hate him, this small baby, who took from me a dear friend, and is the end point of my people.
And yet...
This child is innocent. Right now, he has no idea of who he will become, or what. It is not fair for me to condemn that. I cannot hate a baby, no matter my memories of what he will become.
He only became that way because he as raised by Koume and Kotake, themselves already corrupted from their abnormally long life.
Maybe...maybe this will be a good thing.
But I don't think I can safely raise him here. Those two old witches, they watch me. Waiting, I think, for a chance to declare me unfit. To take him from me. To raise him as they want.
I have made my choice. I don't care if this is against the will of the goddesses, this boy is mine now, and I will keep him as Nielesi asked. I will raise him with my ideals of honor.
And we will go to Hyrule, just as soon as the sun sets tonight.
Raiha closed the journal, and cast a thin-lipped stare at the tiny boy in the basket. He held no sense of Power, or even of malice. His red hair was wispy tufts, his amber eyes closed in silent sleep. Whether this was the right or wrong choice, she could not accurately say. Perhaps, though, this would change things in her favor.
After all, the last time she had tried to interfere in a manner that threw off history, she was prevented by collapsing into slumber and awakening inside the Temple of Time. She was not asleep now. She was very much awake. Almost too much so.
Maybe, just maybe, this change would be for the better.
Feeding him would be a challenge; she had no way of producing breast milk for him, and given the reputation of Gerudo in Hyrule—even her own—it was going to be hard to find someone who would willingly be a wet nurse.
Unless...
Raiha fished into her tunic and pulled out a carved Sheikah eye. It had been decades since she had been in Hyrule, due in no small part to the difficulty of getting there. But if she did manage to make it with the baby strapped to her back, sheltering with the Sheikah might be her best option until the boy was able to be weaned.
If nothing else, the ancient people might at least allow her to stay in their small village for a while until she could re-establish contacts and credentials with some of her other allies. The Hylians had stopped patrolling the border between Hyrule and the desert a long time ago, thinking the difficulty in getting out would leave the tattered remnants of a once proud people trapped.
Really, all it proved was the Hylians could be remarkably short-sighted. In this case, it played to her favor.
Lanayru, is the portal spell still in place?
My mother, it is, the water dragon replied. Are you soon to arrive?
Yes. And I'm bringing someone with me.
There was a sense of the Light Spirit nodding its great head at the knowledge, and she smiled a little, the first smile she'd been able to find since Nielesi had dropped that bomb of information. It was tight, and a little angry; she was about to make the same choice her own mother had made in that other lifetime. To save the child at the cost of the tribe.
"The older I become, the less convinced I am that there are coincidences," she muttered, standing and pacing the small room.
Is my cache still there as well?
All is undisturbed and awaiting your touch, my mother.
And you three remain well?
We do. We are, as yet, little needed.
And if this mad scheme of hers actually worked, they would become superfluous. But wouldn't that be a good thing?
Absently, Raiha worried at a hangnail, then jumped about a foot as the baby stirred, and started to wail. It was one thing to take care of the children knowing that she could return them to their mothers. It was another to realize that she was now the mother, and his wants and needs would require a radical change in her way of thinking.
But first, he needed something, and she had to figure out what that was.
Night fell swift and silent in the desert, and Raiha stared out at the shifting sands with a heart in turmoil. Helpful aunts and sisters all had given her much more than she might ever need in terms of both advice and presents for the king-to-be, not knowing that she was leaving. She had long since learned how to hide her truths behind layers of masks, and while many could see through the brave front, they assumed it was grief for Nielesi that made her pensive, not what she was planning.
How this choice would affect time, she wasn't sure. Under her hand, she would not raise a tyrant, that much was certain. But another boy could be born to this tribe; decimated it was, and difficult to reach Hyrule to seduce men, but the Gerudo women were as stubborn as the desert they lived in, something the Hylian people didn't fully understand.
She shook her head a little, and swept the room one more time for any fragments of herself. Hair was the worst offender, and she'd cut hers short and burned it magically to prevent it from being used against her in some manner. She had to protect herself, and him, from being sought after their disappearance.
No notes.
No apologies.
No explanations.
Raiha closed her eyes, and caught her breath, then checked the items she was leaving behind to make sure there truly was nothing useful in them. Already she had spelled the baby to sleep and stasis—he would wake hungry and furious from the magic, but better that than he give her away as she slipped to the edge of the compound in the shadows and silence of the night.
The food, both for herself and the boy, was packed. The clothing they'd given her for him was folded neatly, the toys stacked on top. She could take none of that, for they would carry impressions of the gifter's personality, and that was a thing that lingered, especially in gifts given to a new king. They could be traced, if the mage knew the correct spell, and she would be damned if she allowed sentimentality to screw her over.
She could hear the celebration still, taking place out in the main common area. The new king had been born. They would be drinking and dancing until dawn, and patrols would be erratic. She could slip into the desert, out of sight of what was left of the compound, and then trigger the spell.
She caught herself pacing again, glancing at the angle of light through her shuttered window, then listening intently for outside sounds, and made herself sit to think her plan through one last time.
The moment she used a powerful spell,the two witches would be altered, which was why she wanted to do it as far from the compound as possible; the longer it took them to realize it had been her, her spell, her magic, the better. She didn't want anyone to catch her leaving either, since that would stick out in someone's memory... or they would try to follow her, since she was carrying their newborn king.
She heard no steps outside her door, and a very careful check of the corridor allowed her to see that no one stood in it, not even in the shadows.
"I must be mad," she muttered to herself as she carefully tied the baby to her chest and checked the fit of her various belts. "Absolutely mad."
But if it worked... would she still be mad? If it worked, she could derail the entire event. If it worked and she could get all three pieces in one fell swoop, then... then she would be fulfilling her mandate after only a few painful centuries, instead of the many more she had feared to live.
As quiet as a cat, she crept down the corridor, listening at every juncture for guards, or even just other sisters. She hid from those who patrolled in pairs, complaining as they passed one another that they were missing out on all the fun, and what was the point of doing rounds in their own home when they hadn't been attacked in decades?
The moon was a bare sliver on the horizon when she made it out and struck out eastwards, making for the old canyon and the bridge that was no longer there. So long as she didn't look down, she would be fine, and the rush of the waterfall may well provide her some additional cover.
Luck remained with her; the baby remained in his spellbound sleep, and everyone else's attention was locked onto the great bonfire, the feast, and the alcohol. She could sense no other powerful magic nearby, and the constant desert breeze swiftly whisked her footprints away into nothingness.
At the edge of the canyon she halted, and straightened from her cautious crouch with a faint groan of protest for her aching back. This wasn't likely to be the last of the sneaking around she would have to do, but at least Hyrule gave her more cover than a few rocks.
"All right," she breathed softly. "Time to go, little one."
She half-closed her eyes, reached for the abundant magic, and pulled on the spell. With a flare of power and a flash of green light, they vanished from the edge of the desert.
I had forgotten how large Hyrule truly was. I had planned for a journey of days, possibly weeks, but in the month I have been here, flitting from hiding place to hiding place, I have made very little progress in getting out of Lanayru province, let alone reaching my own.
There is a ranch nearby, that I am hoping will allow us to sleep in the barn at the very least. I am glad to have a stash of rupees to pay with... and I find myself worrying about the boy.
I have decided to call him Gan. It is not so weighty a name, and holds no uneasy memories.
Dawn comes. I must go.
It was different, traveling through Hyrule both only at night, and with the baby. She had stolen food a few times, from farmers who had taken one look at her skin and cursed at her, saying there was no space for her on their lands. She had been tempted, a time or two, to reveal the nobility of her status, but what would have been the point? She couldn't prove it in travel-worn clothing, and the symbol of proof was in the manor house that she never lived in anyways.
Gan was the harder subject. Several times already she had been tempted to put him somewhere and leave; a cow stall, a doorstep, even just a box on the plains. Anywhere, so long as he was no longer her problem.
But Nielesi would never have forgiven her. And damned be her own conscience too. She could do many things considered evil and wrong, but killing a baby... No, she couldn't do that. Wouldn't do that.
The boy strapped to her chest began to fuss, and she rubbed his back lightly, trying to be soothing as she cautiously approached the farmhouse with glowing lamplight pouring out the windows. Doing this reminded her of what she hated about this country, even as she loved it beyond what was sensible; the people were prejudiced and fearful. Anything different, anyone not like them was shunned.
"Please let this place be different," she muttered, raising a hand to knock firmly on the door. "Please, Nayru..."
Her knock was answered by a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, give or take, with the weathered look of someone who worked hard in the sun all day long. His brown hair was streaked with strands of blond, and he had a neatly trimmed beard that didn't quite hide the frown of suspicion.
"Do somethin fer ya?" he asked gruffly.
"Is there space in your barn for me and the baby?" Raiha asked.
"Durin the day?"
It was a fair question; dawn was swiftly approaching, and she had been traveling all night. It looked suspicious to ask, but she found it better to ask then to be suddenly chased because the child was crying from hunger and they found her hiding in the hay.
"Yes," she said flatly.
The man scratched an ear as he looked hard at her; Raiha met his eyes with tired defiance, staring back. She would pay if he asked for it, or even if he didn't, but she was not going to let him bully her around.
"Oh, Milon, don't make the girl stand in the door," came the unexpected scold from the woman of the house. "Let her in already!"
After a moment more, the rancher—Milon—moved aside, and let her into the farmhouse. It was well-built and snug; the main room that she entered held a large hearth, a large dining table and several chairs, though only one was occupied, by a sleepy-looking ten year old who was almost dozing in his chair.
The woman who had spoken was large, her expression full of fond exasperation as she watched her husband shut the door behind him, no doubt going to start morning chores.
"Don't mind Milon," she said. "Come an sit; have something to eat. I'm Londa, an this is my lazy son, Talon."
She reached over the back of the boy's chair and pinched his cheek slightly, startling him awake.
"Go help your father, young man," she said sternly. "Collecting the eggs is your chore, now!"
"Yes'm," Talon said, sliding from his chair and heading out with barely even a glance at Raiha.
Raiha just blinked, and followed the boy with her eyes as the name sang in her mind; clearly Talon had been a lazy child, as well as a lazy adult.
"You all right there, dear?"
"Ah... yes. I'm fine. Thank you."
She took a seat and watched Londa fill up a plate and set it before her, then, to her surprise, the woman also filled up a bottle with what looked to be milk, and handed that over as well.
It was adroit timing; Gan had just taken a breath to start his 'I'm hungry!' crying, and she was able to quiet him quickly.
"Had a rough life, huh?" Londa asked sympathetically.
"Something like that, yes," Raiha sighed a little as the baby sucked the milk down with greedy abandon. "Thank you for this."
"Why, think nothing of it, honey. Now, if it don't bother you none, I can mind the baby so you get yourself some food."
She hesitated, then nodded, and slowly handed Gan and the bottle over to the rotund woman with the large heart.
They've taken to calling me Dawn, that being the time I showed up on their doorstep. Milon started it, which surprised me, but he's not a bad person. Just taciturn, and a little gruff. They never actually asked my name either; shrewd people live at this ranch, I am pleased to say.
Actually, they haven't asked much about me at all. Londa will gossip away about the women in the small village nearby that she travels to for trade, but never a uestion is asked about me. Either I volunteer information, or I don't. It's... nice.
I've been here two weeks already, and every day I tell myself 'today, I will move on.' This place isn't safe; though it borders Eldin province, we are still too close to the lake, and the desert. But I cannot make myself leave. I have to find some way of repaying them for this kindness, and they won't accept my money.
I've taken to helping out as much as I can. Londa loves having a baby to look after, so while she cares for Gan, I can work in the stables, and help Milon with training the horses. And trying to get Talon interested, but his character traits run deep—he'd rather be out fishing than working hard on the ranch.
It helps me too, to have someone else take care of Gan when he turns fussy. I think I am not well-made for motherhood. Funny, considering it's supposed to be every Gerudo woman's goal... and at one time, it truly was mine.
"Ain't you s'pposed ta be sleepin?"
Raiha looked up from her writing to see Londa in the doorway, a faint frown on her face. A motherly frown, something Raiha had very little experience with. It made her smile a little, despite herself.
"I tried. I couldn't. I thought writing might calm me down."
"Judgin by the look on your face, it ain't helpin much," the Hylian woman observed.
Raiha laughed a little, ruefully, and glanced down at the cradle in which the baby boy slept.
"Just realizing some harsh truths about myself. When I was... younger, it was my dream to someday be a mother, and have daughters of my own. Trying to care for one son, however, instead of cousins I can hand back to their mothers..." She shook her head a little, wryly. "I think I've jumped in over my head..."
"Ah, it's a feeling all new mothers have," Londa said, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder gently. "Mine did, I did, every woman I've met who's got children did. Adopted or blood."
Raiha sighed a little.
"Hopefully it'll get easier as he gets older..."
Londa laughed a little.
"Your challenges just get different, honey. But a child will be what they will be. Here, since we're both up, let's have some milk, and then you should get what sleep you can before yon mite starts wantin somethin of his own."
I had to sneak out. I feel deceitful leaving like this, but we've been here three months, and my paranoia has grown no easier. I don't think I will truly feel safe until I can be within the canyon that guards Kakariko. Getting into the village itself won't be easy, but hopefully my token will be honored.
I wanted to wait for him to be six months and sleeping longer, but... I worry that there is no time for that. Paranoid, maybe, but if some scouts found this place, and found me and the boy, this family would suffer as well.
I left them several orange and silver rupees... and I hope that once Gan is older, and safer, we can come back to visit. Or at the least, I can come to see how they're doing.
Please, Nayru, let this be the wise choice...
"Who are you, to come to our gates uninvited?"
"A Sheikah friend from long ago," she replied, fishing the worn token out from underneath her tunic. "I need sanctuary, and safety in the shadows."
She tossed the token accurately up to the male Sheikah on guard duty, and tried not to pace with impatience as he scrutinized it far more thoroughly than it warranted.
"Wait there. I must take this to the elders."
She made an annoyed sound, but stayed outside the gate as he vanished into the shadows. It would have been easier on her to simply slip inside using those same skills, but if she was going to live here until the baby in his sling was old enough to defend himself, she was going to have to earn their trust.
So it surprised her to see, not five minutes later, a young man scurrying up to the gate to look out at her. This new man had blond-brown hair, and the red eyes customary of all Sheikah, and he stared at her so intently, that she brought a hint of fire to her fingertips, and put a protective arm around the baby. If he wanted to harm her, or the child, he would find that she was not as weary as she looked.
"Idoro, what are you doing now?" the remaining guard asked, her voice tight and low.
"I heard Itaraku complaining about a vagabond at the gate with a token, so I came to See."
"Hah," the guard scoffed a little. "What could you possibly See about this woman? Your gifts barely come in handy for the people you know."
Idoro scowled up at the guard, then looked back at Raiha, who watched him warily.
"I have Seen her before," he said abruptly. "We should let her in."
"That's the Elder's decision, not yours. It's not like Gerudo are harmless."
"Especially not this one," Raiha muttered.
"Well, then I'll go talk to the Elders as well," he said, and hurried off into the deepening twilight.
The guard made an annoyed, dismissive sound, and returned to her watch, altering her tine between watching Raiha, and watching down the canyon she came through. Raiha waited with as much patience as she could, keeping her impatient fidgets to shifting her weight and rubbing Gan's back as he slept.
Going to her manor might have been easier than this nonsense, but she didn't want a production made of it. And there would have been no way to avoid a production if she had turned up there, baby on her chest, looking as though she'd been traveling hard. This was safer, if nothing else; no declaration of her return, no announcement of a son whom everyone would assume was her heir...
Itaraku returned as the moon began to cross the sky and grumpily unlocked the gate.
"The Elders want to see you for themselves," he said, handing back the Sheikah token.
"Fine. Where are they?"
"The largest house near Eldin's Spring."
Eldin? Where are the Sheikah elders housed? she asked silently as she stepped into the village.
The spirit sent her an image; a small building with a rounded roof, windows paned with clear glass and barred in iron that looked to be of Goron make. Lamplight made the windows glow golden in the night air.
Plainly Itaraku wanted to get her into trouble. Well, the joke was now on him; within the village she felt no compunctions about borrowing Eldin's memories to learn who each person was. The better informed she was, the safer she would be.
My thanks, Eldin.
Of course, my mother.
She headed straight for the meeting house, and stepped through the wooden doors with both hope and wariness fighting for space in her heart.