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Stroke of genius! Or perhaps tiredness, we'll see if two hours of sleep yields awesomeness or insufferable stupidity. Please tell me which it is before I head head first into a bad fic.
On with the show!
Disclaimer: …
Link watched as the Master Sword returned to its stone stand, its power going dormant to await the next Hero. He was suddenly struck by the overwhelming feeling of loss that he'd pushed to the back of his mind until then. There would be no more adventure, no more saving anyone, no more new people, no more feeling the dirt and grass as it was caught beneath his paws, no more high pitch giggle from his back… no more comfort of never being truly alone. His eyes slid to his shadow, but no sarcastic imp came flying up to ask him what he wanted, no there would be no more Midna.
His heart sank at the thought as that thought drilled into his head. She wouldn't be there to comfort him when the weight of the worlds became unbearable; he wouldn't have the familiar sound of her breathing to lull him to sleep; never feel her weight on his back as he ran, or hear her voice as she spotted something interesting about an opponent; no she was gone, and despite her own words there would be no 'see you later'.
His eyes went back to the triforce on the sword and felt an odd impulse pull him down. He knelt before the sword and put both hands on its hilt; his left hand carefully placed over the triforce on the blade, and leaned his head against his hands and closed his eyes, before he began praying.
Nayru, goddess of wisdom, Din, goddess of power, Farore, goddess of courage, you have blessed me with your power and as your loyal servant I wish to speak to you, when he'd begun his prayer he'd thought it would go as all prayers had gone, a one-sided conversation that he sometimes doubted were heard. This time as he began speaking he suddenly felt as if he was standing in morning mist. He opened his eyes and frowned, knowing he had returned the sword well into midday, swirling around his feet was thick white mist. When he raised his head he saw that the sacred grove had disappeared and the sky was black, while the ground was never ending mist, the place that Zelda had taken them when she'd gotten the arrows of light.
When he turned he found three thrones, each occupied by one of the three goddesses. He knelt again when he saw them.
You are our blessed son and hero, you needn't bow their voices came as one unified hum, though he could catch Nayru's airy tone, and Din's strong authoritative voice, separate from Farore's confident tone. He stood as told and they spoke again, what is your request?
I humbly request you repair the Twilight Mirror, or create a new mirror, if it is your will to do so he bowed his head to the deities before him, silently dreading what they would say.
That is not our will they answered, he could see them each shift in their thrones at his request.
He chewed at his lip May I ask why?
Because, blessed son, it was our will that it be broken he had been expecting a hundred different answers ranging from 'we respect the Twili ruler's diction' to 'we cannot, because it goes against the laws we have laid down', he was not prepared for their response.
His head snapped up and he looked from red, to blue, to green eyes, but they betrayed only the unreadable authority of the goddesses, it was your will for the soul connection of your worlds to be severed?
They nodded, we would have done so had the fallen girl refused.
He could feel the hairline cracks that had spread across his heart begin to deepen, why?
We could not allow what had begun. You are our blessed, chosen hero Farore spoke alone now you who I endowed with my strength, we could not allow you and the fallen girl to act upon your desires.
But you saved her from Ganondorf he could hear his voice tremble.
The light spirits saved her, and tore his magic from her and they will be punished. We intended for her to die their words hurt as bad as if they had run him through with his own blade.
He fell to his knees if it was against your will why did you let us love?
The goddesses looked grim, we hold ourselves to our laws, the first and foremost we do not interfere with free will, if we did Ganondorf would have died at birth.
He felt sick; his hands wrapped around his head as he leaned his forehead against the ground Please return me to the sacred grove.
He felt grass and stone under him, and felt the cold of wind. He sat back and saw the Master Sword still glowing faintly. It knew he was still there and it still recognized him as its master. The sword had its own will as did he. That gave him slight twinge of hope, as the goddesses' last words echoed into his ears; we do not interfere with free will.