Greetings everyone, Now, I wasn't planning to upload this for a while as I'm working out the storyline, but eh, I got motivation from a wonderful woman, who also decided the title and so has my deepest thanks (you know who you are!) And so here it is. Please bear in mind that some things are not going to make sense just yet. It is the beauty of multi-chapters - revealing more as time goes by!
Important notes - As so rudely pointed out to me by a reviewer, my story does have similar ideas to ZeldaRubix's - "How Zelda Got Her Groove Back." Believe me, I am highly aware of this. And so before I receive any more comments about it - ZR is aware of this, and was very understanding. She gave me her full support with the go-ahead. Also, there are more than 10,000 Legend of Zelda fictions, of course there is going to be repetition somewhere. I do not have, nor will I ever have the outright intention of copying another's work. If you feel as though I am, please do say, but not in a rude manner.
Onto a happier note, I also would like to say a huge thank you to Destini who very kindly opted to be my beta. Goodness knows how much I need one. I don't think I can thank her enough.
Disclaimer - The Legend of Zelda does not belong to me in any way, shape or form. This is for entertainment purposes.
I hope you enjoy it.
The thick, scarlet droplets pattered onto the floor, pooling in a thick river of red. The gentle splashes echoing the stuttering beats of a heart, slowing as the organ that powered the flow ceased working. The crimson pool growing with every drip, startling against the dull beige monotony of the dirt.
She retracted the knife, its cold metal scrapping against bone. The body crumpling to the floor with an audible thud. The sound was delightful in her ears.
Immediately, a glowing orb floated free from the body - the visual representation of a soul. It dangled above its previous confinement and hung in front of her, awaiting her acceptance.
Orb in hand, she allowed for her body to dissipate from the mortal plane, arriving at her destination in a breath. These trips were so short, so effortless. Years of practise… she thought bitterly as she freed the spirit into the plush meadows, alight with the swirls of souls burning brightly in death.
The victim looked happy, joyous even as they frolicked amongst those he knew, reuniting with those who had been lost for so long in the afterlife. Suspended in a dimension that time did not effect, the underworld did hold an ethereal beauty. So peaceful with its clear skies and lush greenery, untainted by impurity or evil.
But not for her. The "not welcome" was almost tangible in its demand. She could feel the realms magic pushing against her, suffocating in its power. A constant reminder that she did not belong there. A place for the purest of spirits.
A delivery woman, that's all she was to the deities who ruled over the sacred realm, seen as nothing more than someone to drop off the souls. How erroneous they were if they believed that. That she could be so easily forgotten.
Her laugh rang around her, deep and seductive, cold and malevolent. Dangerous in its most audible form. Oh how they would pay… But still she suppressed the delectable thoughts; it wouldn't do well to be stopped when the fun was only just starting.
Job now done, her form transported once more, drifting through the barrier of realms. Her form drifted through the barrier of realms, returning to the Earth plane.
Kneeling by the body, a hand paler than bone raked over his eyes, closing them softly. Even though her victim had been the Guardian of the Shadow temple and as such one of the Sheikah, attuned to a life of shadows, he could not anticipate his own death. The Shadow People were the most loyal race to her, and she hated that it was his life she must claim. It seemed like such a waste of a soul.
Yet matters could not be helped. She wanted to go exploring, and so she would. It just happened to be an added bonus that this would cause a hindrance for that petty queen. With the Sheikahs' insight, it was all too likely they would be the first race that woman would seek help from - desiring the answers to defeat a foe she truly had no idea of.
That meddlesome hero was already suspicious of her guardians, and she couldn't allow him to consult with the queen either. Between them and the Sheikah, it wouldn't be long before her plans came to light, and she could not let that happen.
She knew her pets would be successful; they would show him to keep out of matters that did not concern him, but not to kill him. It wasn't his time to die just yet…
But the guardian - she cast a glance down at his still form - she had to kill. Without him, so much could be done and no-one would be any wiser. She was cunning after all, stories and tales had been crafted of her brilliant nature, why would she stop her ingenuity now?
Out of curiosity she had decided to venture further inside the temple and see what it was the Shadow People worked so hard to protect. Perhaps there would be something of value that would assist in her plans. But she only found the hover boots, something she didn't need.
She knew that the temple concealed something else, but what was the question. Scouring the temple had only unveiled bodies decayed by time and pools of dried blood splattered on the stone floors. She also encountered wandering spirits that called out for her help, pleaded with her to listen, and begged for the end to their torment
It had once pained her to see spirits stuck in the mortal world, with something ridiculously mundane preventing them from crossing over. But now she barely batted an eyelid. It was their stupid fault for not accomplishing their tasks when alive.
Her searching had provided pointless, and she could not help but be dissatified byher lack of useful items. Still, she did not worry over her lack of success. If she could find nothing, then no mere mortal would be able to either.
There had been no challenge in entering. Breaking the protective wards was too easy, allowing for her to slip into the catacombs unnoticed, leaving no more trace than a passing ghost. She was a master of death, and a temple erected to personify it was a haven to her.
There had been no challenge in entering despite the strenuous methods that had been employed, far too easy to break the protective wards, slip through the catacombs as transmuted as ghost. A master of death, a temple erected to personify it was like her haven. No mere mortal trap could ensnare her. She had simply cast a glamour, creating the illusion that nought had been disturbed.
But where was the fun in leaving everything untouched?
The place was already beautiful. The poignancy of death lingered in the air, expressed in the richness of the blood stained walls. Human fat from half decayed bodies waxy in its texture. Why, the Sheikah had certainly outdone themselves in making the place uninhabitable. She was almost proud of their efforts.
But it was not enough.
She knew how dammed persistent that queen would be. No mere shadows would scare her. Oh no, but the oh so very welcoming presences lurking in them might. A simple spell here, a particularly amusing hex there.
It was child's play really.
Even a Sheikah would be unaware of the secrets the temple now held. Although she was particularly confident that the temple hid nothing from her, there was no harm in taking precautions. She couldn't shake the suspicion that it held something of great importance, and it was just far too likely that either the queen or that damn hero would go exploring.
What a shock they would be in for.
It was almost exciting.
How easily a new guardian would be appointed, restoring the wards that had dissolved with the Sheikah's death. Preventing the entities that resided in the temple from breaking free. The races believing that they were safe…
It was just too fun to play with the foolishness of mortals.
As much as she admired the sheikah - the closest to her 'chosen ones' that she would ever get - she had to admit that they too, were fools. He had relied on his acute senses, assured that he could see through the shadows. But he left his back wide open, allowing her the perfect moment tostrike.
She knelt beside his corpse, observing his features whilst doing so, noticing that his terrified emotion appeared to be engraved in his face, his eyes wide in frozen shock. The calm façade of a Sheikah had been lost as she had plunged her knife deep into his heart.
There was something quite satisfying about seeing the look of death. A delight to watch as her victims' deepest emotions were unveiled unwillingly before her - even the bravest had been known to cry. Some accepted it, closing their eyes, a faint smile upon their lips as they embraced their inevitable end. There was no fun in their deaths.
She enjoyed the fear.
She watched with pleasure as they realised there was nothing they could do. Their thread of life had been cut. Their time was running out, like the sands of an hourglass. Each grain was a final second, and they had only one last breath before their souls were hers for the harvesting.
She was doing the Sheikah Guardian a favour really, death didn't result in some dastardly place that people should fear. Their terror was irrational in her eyes. It was a release; finally achieving the freedom they yearned for that could not be found in life. He didn't have to die, for it wasn't his time. Not now, not yet. But death is an inevitable thing. Having her position, she could decide so easily whose thread she should sever. It was as easy as choosing a new colour for a dress.
His death was not in vain; if there was one thing she despised, it was deaths that were pointless. Harvesting a soul because the person was old brought her no pleasure. The experience was so boring and dull. Yet this one was different from those dull deaths by old age. She gazed down upon the body with a sense of satisfaction. This death had in fact begun the grand unveiling of her plans. The first death of many to follow.
There was a limit to who could die, if a life was taken; another must be saved or born. By taking his life before his time, she had to spare another. She decided the rules, and thus she had to uphold them. This was her duty, her job. One she had enjoyed before being confined to it.
She had enjoyed taking the form of someone who the person that was about to leave this world would enjoy seeing: a parent, a lover, or a child. Being greeted by someone the individual would feel comfortable with made the transition much easier.
She had loved seeing their faces light in recognition, and their acceptance of their unavoidable end softened by seeing someone they cared about. It had brought the only form of happiness one could find in a profession so morbid.
Death wasn't supposed to be cruel. A large portion of the time, she was unable to dictate the manner of their demise. Human life was manipulated by the choices that they and others around them chose. It was rare that she was the one to actually deliver death. She was just there to collect their souls. A blasted collect and delivery woman…
But times changed.
From the very beginning, she had sat with the deities, discussing the merits of creating life. She had helped to weigh the pros and cons of bringing about a new civilisation, not unlike their own. But in all their hype, they had forgotten death. Mortals did not have the capacity to be immortal. Their bodies deteriorated, bones becoming fragile, subject to osteoporosis, and prone to breaking. Skin lost its elasticity, sagging in wrinkles. Their minds were unable to recall all that they did, memories being lost as their brain slowly lost consciousness. There would have to come a time in which they could no longer live.
The goddesses had agreed, and created an area in the sacred realm in which they would welcome the souls with open arms. She had never been so happy as she had been then, when she believed her life had meaning and purpose.
But all good things draw to a close.
She turned her face skyward and uttered a stream of curses under her breath. How they had forgotten about her, forgotten that she was the one who kept their realm so sacred…
She ran her mouth over her dagger, hungrily drinking the still warm blood. She let it coat her lips and linger on her tongue. She wiped the remainder off using her long onyx cloak. The fluid did not stain the fabric, but was absorbed by it.
She had her next destination and victim already in mind, and spared not a glance back at the carcass. She would bring vengeance, and just as she had served death to the unsuspecting guardian of the shadow temple, she would also take everything the goddesses had created.
One pathetic life at a time.
"Your majesty, lady Serilda from the Sheikah awaits your presence."
The crown queen of Hyrule rose gracefully, her countenance a practiced gentle smile that did not give a hint of her trepidation.
Zelda knew already that this meeting would be necessary. Earlier she had received a short letter from the Sheikah, informing her of the incident Serilda was here to discuss. She had read it twice, committing it to memory, and then cast it into the fire; it was for her eyes alone.
She bowed slightly to the messenger and made her way to the lounge. An informal setting, but she saw no need for court rooms for a meeting between two people of close acquaintance.
"Your majesty," Serilda bowed her head in acknowledgement, maintaining protocol due to the messenger's presence.
"That will be all." Zelda dismissed him, waiting for him to depart before turning to the other female. "Serilda, I would like to be joyful at your return, but I do not believe now is the time for celebration."
Though she truly was relieved to see her companion, she could see the tension in the Sheikah's demeanour, the way in which her shoulders were stiff, her arms too close to her sides. They were small indications, but to a practised eye familiarised with studying body language, the changes were easily noticeable. They signified something was amiss.
Zelda had never seen her calm exterior disrupted before, except once – when the twilight descended upon Hyrule
The Sheikah had been unable to assist her in the most dire of times. All Sheikah had been called to protect their land, unwilling to let twilight plague the area. They were already few in number, barely more than twenty at most, and each pair of hands had been a vital tool in saving their homes.
Serilda had not been fond of leaving her unprotected, even despite Zelda's assurance of being able to defend herself suitably. She knew the Sheikah blamed herself for her imprisonment, but Zelda had brushed it aside, knowing Serilda had already beat herself up about it enough.
Still, she had to admit, she enjoyed having her by her side. The woman was the closest thing to family she had. Their bond stronger than mere blood relation - the protection and familiarity she provided was invaluable. Giving all the more reason as to why she hated seeing her worked up, subtle as though the indications may be.
The Sheikah smiled tightly, her focused red eyes hardened by her inner thoughts. "No, I bring news of misfortune. A death has been reported."
"One close to home I assume?" Zelda responded.
Serilda tilted her head almost imperceptibly to the side, betraying the most minimal amounts of curiosity in the gesture.
"You look too troubled for it to be someone who was not family to you." Zelda divulged, keeping her tone neutral.
The Sheikah were a secretive race; known for their stoic exterior. They did not mourn for one of their lost brethren as a family might have. As a race of shadows sworn to protection, they lived so that others did not die.
The Sheikah did not show their grief; emotions were a thing of weakness in their eyes. But that did not mean they did not feel them.
"He was one us - the assigned guardian to the shadow temple."
"So the temple does indeed exist? There has been no indication to its existence for over a century." Zelda had heard mentions of it during her training, but she had never actually seen it, or heard of anyone venturing inside it.
Serilda simply looked towards Zelda, as though expecting her to reveal the answers herself. "We are a race shrouded in secrecy, we do not advertise what we hold in our possession."
At Zelda's lack of input, she continued. "The temple was created to honour the goddess, to whom we pay our respects. But due to its nature, it became a place of death, where souls linger, lamenting their sorrow, a place where fear is corruptive - driving even the bravest to insanity. It harbours dark entities now, and thus fell into our protection."
Zelda remained pensive for a few moments, arranging her thoughts. "I thought the hero of time had rid the temple of its evil?" Not many knew of the events surrounding the fabled hero, the legend had only been repeated to a select few - the royal family and its protectors.
The Sheikah nodded, "He did, but after your ancestor sent him back, all that he had accomplished was undone - including the purging of the temples."
"But Ganondorf had been sealed by the sages. How could he have still defiled them when banished to the twilight realm?" Zelda asked, her intrigue piqued.
Serilda gave her a small smile. "I did not expect you to be so naïve, Zelda. Evil exists regardless of its origin, or have you forgotten of the Hyrulian civil war?"
Zelda bristled, recalling the texts detailing the bloody and relentless war, the lives that had been lost without care. "'Returning to the reason for this meeting, do your people believe it was an organised murder?"
Her expression darkened considerably, the slight tension increasing by the smallest degree. "It is practically a certainty. But the question is how?" Serilda walked back and forth, her restless energy radiating off her.
Zelda frowned, off-put by the other woman's unusual display of agitation. "Would there be a reason as to why someone would kill the guardian?"
"I don't believe so. Nothing can be gained, a new guardian will be appointed. I am simply confounded by how someone could murder one of us so easily…"
Serilda continued to detail the state in which the body had been found, nothing that indicated a struggle or any resistance - it was completely baffling how the Sheikah male had not reacted. The Sheikah were the fastest warriors known, no man, or woman for that matter, could rule over them in speed, agility, or stamina… Except the murderer apparently could. It had been one swift blow to the heart through the back; the well-aimed shot indicated that this was no amateur.
"I fear it will be the first death of many to come…" Zelda whispered.
Serilda stopped her pacing, a glimmer of worry edging its way into her eyes. "Is there reason behind your speculation?"
Zelda sighed heavily, "there have been many sighting of wolves around Hyrule. Large black beasts that are terrifying citizens."
"Have they harmed anyone?" the Sheikah asked, her fingers twitching in a way that only a sharp eye could notice.
"No, not as of late. But I have noticed they are being spotted in regions where the temples lie. Almost as if they are watching them."
"I see." Serilda replied, crossing her arms, the outline of daggers under her bandaged wrists barely discernable. Zelda only knew of their existence due to her training. "I shall tell Ailith immediately, she will devise a method of action."
Zelda nodded, knowing she would be leaving again soon. "Stay safe, I do not wish to hear of any more deaths concerning your race." She grasped the others forearm in the traditional form of departure - mindful of the long hidden daggers.
Serilda smiled though it did not reach her eyes. "I will, Zelda. A shadow is a hard thing to catch. You must also promise to stay -"
Her words cut off she glanced towards the door expectantly, waiting for the knock that sounded shortly after. Even to this day, her acute hearing always astounded Zelda.
"I am sorry to intrude, your majesty, but you have been requested in the medical wing." A girl panted, breathless from her running.
"Can it not wait? I am busy at the moment."
The servant girl flinched at her tone, "I... I am sorry ma'am, they said it was urgent."
Zelda breathed out, carefully masking her air of irritation at the disruption. "Very well, I shall come." She turned to Serilda apologetically. "Forgive me, but I must depart. Stay hidden in the shadows." Zelda fisted her hand over her heart, giving a swift bow as Serilda mirrored her actions.
She left the study following the words of farewell, hurrying behind the girl. There were healers within the medical wing, could they not attend to the injuries themselves? It was hardly her place to become a doctor when the need called for it. The only conclusion she could draw was that the patient must be greatly wounded if even her best medics could not treat them.
"Please inform the councillor that I shall be late to attend our meeting." Zelda told the girl, after having reached the destination, maintaining a placid tone as to not frighten her like before.
It wasn't as though the meeting was important anyways; it was just tax management. Quite simply something she wouldn't mind missing.
"I shall, ma'am." She curtsied swiftly, scurrying down the hall in the opposite direction.
Zelda did not pay attention to her though. She pushed open the hospital doors and was greeted by the intoxicating smell of ethanol, red potions and other strong scents pertaining to a medical area.
The Queen immediately spotted a cluster of people around an individual's bed and strode over, demanding that they let her through. They stepped back instantly giving her space to work. Her eyes widened as she took in the man on the bed. Blood had dried on his shredded clothes and skin to a disgusting crusty brown, and long, deep lacerations lined his chest and arms. New blood slid from those wounds with each beat of his heart."
Her mind jumped to the wolves. The parallel serrations of his wounds reminded her of the claw marks of a large beast.
But even she could see that the intention had not been to kill. Wolves aimed for a swift and easy kill, the main target regularly the jugular. The wounds had clearly missed any major arteries, rousing her suspicions that if it had been the wolves, they were far more skilled than the average dog.
"Stand back will you all? I need room to work." Zelda snapped at the gaping staff around her. She was amazed that they had even managed to clear up most of the blood of his skin and dress the minor wounds.
Only after the crowd dispersed did Zelda set to work, ripping his shirt open to reveal the extent of the damage. Removing the fabric caused more blood to spill from the gashes, soaking her white gloves. She tore them off before she grabbed the bottle of ethanol. She dabbed the cleansing liquid onto a cloth and pressed it against his chest. He hissed in pain and she did her best to soothe him with gentle sounds.
She knew it would hurt, but quite frankly, she had to get these sealed up now, or he would loose too much blood, and she did not have the time to sterilise his wounds as well. She glanced around desperately for a red potions, but as she found none in her immediate sight, she opted for plan B.
She murmured "sano" in a constant mantra and held her hands above his body. A creamy peridot glow surrounded her hands and entwined around his body as the magic transferred into him. Slowly his breathing gentled as his body relaxed and his pulse stopped racing, returning to a healthier beat.
She sighed gratefully when the skin began to knit itself back together, the process of cell regeneration visible as the lacerations became nothing more than thin pink lines, mitosis taking place at an accelerated rate
After hearing the deepening of his breaths that was a sure sign of sleep, she all but collapsed onto the edge of his bed. A healing spell of that magnitude was exhausting, both physically and mentally. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open, and her brow was coated in sweat.
Never had she been more thankful that her element was water - the one that specialised in healing spells, making the transfusion of magic into him all that more bearable. Strong as though she was in magic, it was gratifying to have the extra boost. Not to mention that she was immensely grateful that his soul had not yet begun to depart from its mortal body.
It had been different when he had brought Midna to her in the tower when Zant still had control of Hyrule. The imp had been so close to death; her soul was already detaching. Zelda had no option but to transfuse her own soul into the twilight princess' body to act as an anchor. Her life force had enabled Midna's body to keep functioning
It had been one of the riskiest things she had even considered. Midna had been saved, true, but almost at the cost of her own body.
Although she was hazy on the subject, it was foretold that if a soul remained detached from a body for too long, the mortal body could vanish. It was simply speculation as there was no empirical evidence in which to base the theory upon, but still, it was something she had worried about. It was prophesied that since a body that faded from existence did not technically die, the soul did not reincarnate and was doomed to remain on the earth plain without a physical state
It was difficult to describe how she had felt in Midna's body. She had still possessed emotions; the ability to feel pride with every accomplishment, the terror at every fall, but not the ability to process why it was she felt that way.
It was simple musings, but it had always lead her to wonder what had caused the surge of affection when first glancing upon her hero in human form.
Was it a reminiscent of previous Zeldas, all their destroyed hope and love imprinted onto the very fabric of who she was now, or a stirring of the feelings that the twilight princess had felt - Midna's emotions inked onto her own soul? Perhaps it had nought to do with either, but was rather relief that she was herself once more, mistaken for romantic notions in her sudden elation.
Zelda glanced to where the hero slept, the slightest of frowns marring his features. She wondered what the root of it was. It likely had something to do with the attack, but she could not be sure, at least not without invading his privacy.
Though even if she wanted to, it would be a nearly impossible to attempt any magic for she was far too tired. Potent though magic was in her blood, large spells still drained her energy.
If not for the cluster of nurses that would spread the most ridiculous tales about her for doing so; she would fall asleep here. Well, on the chair. She wouldn't dare dream of sleeping next to a man. Especially a half-naked one. Involuntary, her eyes drifted to his bare torso, still visible from where she had been treating him.
Wearily, Zelda stood up, leaning her thigh against the bedside for her support as she pulled the covers over his thorax, desperately trying to hold back her blush when her fingers grazed his skin slightly. Thank goodness she had not had to remove his trousers… Though it was no where near proper to be considering taking a quick peek at his chest fully revealed…
But dear Farore, he was gorgeous. The curve of his muscles, dip of every crevice, tanned skin toughly pulled over the swell of pectorals… Reflexively, she twined her hands together, desisting the urge to run her fingers along his chest.
Distracting herself from the scandalous thoughts running in her head, she walked hesitantly to where she could see various vials of coloured liquids. She assumed they were medicines and inspected a few to confirm her suspicions. She gathered a few bottles and mixed a drink laced with minerals and iron to help replace that which he had lost in his near exsanguination. She also added a drink for herself to boost her energy. As she glanced through the bay windows, she was surprised at how low the sun was on the horizon. Her eyes narrowed slightly; how easily she had lost track of time.
Adding glucose to his drink, she stirred it around once. Though her magic had healed him, re-growing new cells quickly was not a pleasant experience. Too slowly and precious time was wasted, too fast and more damage was done to the skin.
"Nurse?" Zelda called to one of the women on the other side of the room, unsure of how to address her without coming across as rude.
"Yes, your majesty. How may I be of assistance?" The petite blonde asked, walking over to Zelda.
"I was simply wondering where the hero was discovered?" She replied, using her standard tone of polite interest, and hoping her tiredness was not too audible.
"In the western fields, your men found him collapsed near the passage leading to Kakariko village, your majesty."
"I see, thank you for your time." Zelda inclined her head in the maiden's direction, and the nurse returned the gesture with a bow
There were no temples located in that field. The closest one was the forest temple. What business had the wolves had there? It almost seemed like their sole purpose had been to attack him…
Placing the glass on the stand, she sat precariously back onto the edge of the bed. She reached out and brushed his sticky, blood encrusted hair back from his face.
It had been four years since she had seen him last. He had left without any real reason other than a desire to travel. He had said he wanted to see the world while he was yet young. Even still, she had not imagined it would take almost half a decade to satisfy his want to explore. But she could not claim to know much about exploring. She did not know how those things worked, so how could she estimate accurately how long such things would take?
She had wondered if he would ever return to the castle. As a knight, he was entitled to live where he pleased, but still, she couldn't deny that she had missed his company.
By the third year, she had stopped questioning, believing he had taken up residence back in Ordon. She knew that was his home, and that there was talk of him becoming mayor should he happen to marry Bo's daughter, Ilia.
Zelda's eyes narrowed slightly. She didn't dislike the girl, but there was always something akin to jealously building in her bosom when in the other female's company.
She felt something clench inside her at how the farm girl's easy smile and carefree nature were a welcoming brightness after the trials Link had faced. And Link was so relaxed in her company, an amicable smile adorning his mouth when with her.
It was petty, but she had been envious.
She was not like Ilia, whose gentle nature was a soothing balm to aching hearts. Nor did she have a welcoming voice that could coax a smile out of anyone.
That was probably the reason he had returned to Ordon - to marry his childhood sweetheart. Her eyes flickered to his hand, concealed by the blanket. She had not seen no wedding band, but then again, she hadn't really been looking.
Perhaps his intention had been to marry Ilia, but she couldn't shake the feeling that his departure had something to do with her.
Her last recollection of being in his company was sometime after his knighting ceremony. She had thought of them as close, perhaps more than mere acquaintances, but friends had never felt quite right, even if she had considered marriage possibilities…
The connection she felt with him had been forged through the similarities they shared as bearers of the Triforce, and had only been strengthened by the burdens they had overcome together. Their relationship was something more, but could be defined as nothing other than a mutual respect and friendship.
After her coronation as queen, time which she could spend as she wished had become a rare luxury. What time she did have to speak with the hero often included the other members of the resistance team or the knights. Even those times of shared company were fleeting, which irked her slightly for she enjoyed his companionship.
And of course, even though she was queen, her council still insisted on allowing suitors to court her. There were many advantages to be gained through a political union: alliances with other countries, strengthening trade, even doubling the number of men in her army. But the idea of a marriage of convenience didn't appeal to her.
With time needing to be devoted to the pompous buffoons that called themselves suitors, legislation to be written, meetings to attend, complaints to address, she had hardly seen the hero. She had felt a palpable distance stretching between them, but had been powerless to prevent it.
However, she hadn't blamed him for leaving. She thought perhaps the distance between them had been part of the reason for his departure, rather than just his longing to see other countries. It had hurt, though. She had lost one of the few people who understood her as she was and who knew the pressure she was under in the restoration effort. But he wasn't one to be confined to one place. Keeping him in the castle would be like trapping an eagle in a cage.
Besides, when she thought about it, she had hardly known him at all. It was only eight months after the twilight invasion that he was knighted, and after the ceremony he quickly vanished back into obscurity. He was probably better off away from the snobbish company of the castle residents, the sneers of stuck-up princes, and the frowns of nobles.
Hero he may be, but all he ever was in their eyes was a goat herder
It was a shame, for his noble deeds should have placed him on equal footing with those royals. He deserved to be respected and revered, not looked down upon with disapproval for his humble origins.
She sighed softly, knowing exactly how that must have felt. Forever overshadowed by the courts own prejudices, of how they believed the Queen and Hero should act. They had unrealistic principles. Such as her needing to be married, him to suddenly sprout royal heritage… All of which was nuisance to her.
She was not aware of how long she sat there, watching the rise and fall of his shallow breathing. A servant asked her if she needed anything as they went about lighting the candles at dusk. She merely explained that she wished to observe him until he woke for the sake of his health. It wasn't a complete lie - only when he was awake could she assess the full extent of his welfare. But truthfully, she was rather intrigued by the man beside her.
Even though it sounded ridiculously cliché, she felt like she had known Link far longer than the single year of their acquaintance. Perhaps it had something to do with her past incarnations, their time with the past heroes merging in her subconscious with her own feelings. Maybe that was why she felt so protective as she watched him sleep.
And perhaps his attractiveness was keeping her all the more rooted to the spot.
She wouldn't dare admit it to anyone other than herself, but Link was a fine example of the handsome male countenance: his finely chiselled jaw line, long lashes that created shadows upon his high cheekbones, his closed lids hiding the most captivating shade of blue she had known…
The sudden movement of his pupils flickering behind his eyelids jostled her out of her thoughts, embarrassed that she had been so caught up in her gazing that the movement had made her jump.
"How are you feeling?" She asked, glad her voice did not betray her rapid pulse.
Slowly, his eyes opened fully, focusing on her. A low groan left his mouth, sounding gruff from sleep.
"What happened?" He asked, propping himself up on his elbows before easing himself back against the pillows.
"I assume you remember you were attacked?"
Link rubbed a hand across his eyes and down his face. "By wolves I think."
Zelda's stomach clenched with something close to fear; she had known they were not harmless. She would have to tell Serilda immediately, and warn her of their capabilities.
"You cannot be sure?"
"They appeared like wolves, but incredibly large. Larger than what I have seen before and completely black."
She looked at him intently, hearing slight intrigue in his voice, but not an ounce of fear.
"How can it be that you are not frightened of them?" She asked, sharper than intended due to his complete ease.
Link just smiled wryly, "it would be absurd to fear something that is a part of me."
"Though you have a connection to wolves, it borders on stupidity to underestimate something that may be more powerful than what the eye sees." She retaliated with forced nonchalance.
"Perhaps so, but they did not kill me and so I do not fear them."
Zelda clenched her fingers, debating between whether to be amused or annoyed at his unperturbed attitude. "No, they did not bring death to you instantly, but rather left you to die. If you had not been found, you would most likely be dead."
It was sheer luck that her men had been returning from trading businesses in Kakariko, or Link would likely still have lain in the fields, closer to death than she cared to think about.
"Ah yes, I remember that. Your men are not very gentle with the injured are they?" Link responded casually.
"Will you be serious? You almost died just now." She fought to keep composed.
"Almost," he exaggerated, "but didn't."
"Because of my magic, it was not because of luck or divine intervention.."
The mild humour faded from his face, "you saved me?"
"Do not sound so surprised, I am qualified." Zelda remarked pensively, regarding him curiously.
Link's mouth tugged up in an amusement, "I just meant that I thought you'd be too busy."
"I was," she replied honestly, "but all matters can be pushed aside when a life is at risk."
"Well I'm flattered, but I think now is the time I'll be taking my leave." He pushed up from the bed, unsuspecting that she would take hold of his shoulder, halting his upward motion. He took note of the flush that spread across her cheeks at the bare contact with equal surprise.
"I do not think so. Until I know what the true intentions of those wolves are, I will not allow you to leave."
His eyes rose to hers, "what if I refuse to stay? I do not belong here."
Zelda sighed, pulling her hand back onto her lap, her fingers white from the tension in them. "Hero, you are always welcome here."
"I would rather return home." He countered, his voice unwavering in his resolve.
Immediately she thought of Ilia, how he was probably eager to return to the honey-haired woman.
"Why? You know it is dangerous, yet you are adamant that you will be fine. What is the real reason you seek to depart so swiftly?" Her gaze focused on him, her tone giving no room for deception.
"I am not the hero everyone believes me to be." He sighed heavily, his eyes narrowed.
Her eyebrows rose slightly, "how so?" She questioned, having not anticipated the response. He had sounded almost regretful, as though burdened by some deep thought.
"I walk through Castle Town and I am bombarded with requests for help, or ridiculous suggestions like 'Hero, go fetch a stick for my dog,' or 'oh Link, would you mind painting my roof…' Everyone expects me to perfect and selfless, willing to drop everything to assist them, and that is not me. I'm not the hero they think I am."
"You do not have to meet all expectations set by the towns people, it is no wrong to simply decline their requests." She said, regarding him intently.
"You don't get it do you?" Link asked her, looking outside through the grand windows. "I am no hero."
"A hero is not defined by only by the great challenges he faces, but by the simplest ones too. They are delineated by the countless foes they defeat, their endless determination, and their limitless courage. I merely walk through the town and I am greeted by tales of your heroic deeds."
He shook his head, still preferring to direct his gaze to something other than her. "They were not acts of good intention."
"Then pray do tell, what were they? You saved the Zora prince, helped reinstate trade for the Gorons, restored Jovani's soul and donated a thousand rupees; all deeds of selflessness." Zelda countered, reverence in her voice.
He laughed once, a sharp bitter sound, "I assisted Ralis to obtain a gift from the late Zora queen, the Gorons provided the hot spring water to open the southern entrance to Hyrule field, Jovani was to earn some money and as for the donations, well, there were only so many rupees I could carry."
Her eyes widened in surprise before she regained her composure.
"Your idea of an altruistic hero were rather erroneous then huh?" His eyes took her in carefully, but gave no indication of his own thoughts
Zelda narrowed her gaze, "and yet your ultimate goal was to save the Ordon children was it not? Or was that just because you felt like you had to?"
Link's expression darkened, the effect emphasised in the flickering shadows of the candlelight. "There were several reasons behind my adventure, the first of which was rescuing the children." He admitted.
"Exactly, you had no idea what terrors would unfold on the journey, but you bravely continued your search. And you kept them safe when you did finally locate them."
Link exhaled, exasperated. "You are trying to find the good in which no good can be found."
"No," she contradicted, "I simply refuse to believe that you do not see own heroism." She stood up from the bed, glaring down at him, "If you truly wish to leave, then do so, but I will not save your life a second time." She swiftly turned on her heel, reigning in the urge to stomp away from him. And she only just heard his defeated sigh as she left the room.
The remainder of her day moved along at a sluggish pace. On multiple occasions she found herself wondering about Serilda. Her contemplation of her friend's welfare lead her to ponder about Link's too.
Why did he truly despise the castle so much?
Was it due to memories of Midna haunting him, or was it something that she had done? The latter option was ridiculous, she had done nought wrong to him. She had treated him as an equal, respecting his input when given and offering support where she could. Surely he held no grudges towards her?
Zelda rubbed her temples wearily, attempting to focus on the documents before her. The castle's rebuild was a slow and tedious affair, it was three quarters of the way complete, but there was still much work to be done. Even still, dealing with construction materials was easier than trying to placate her subjects.
Progress took time to show, but they did not seem to realise that. Complaints were constant of how the area of Castle Town that had been devastated was not yet complete, that shops remained derelict and trade was still slow. The fear from the twilight still lingered, increased by the high rate of crime, multiplied by the sightings of the wolves.
Even despite all the endless announcements she had given to bolster the people's spirits after the invasion of Zant; their uncertainty still remained. She had omitted a few details, though without them, her tales were seen as being short spun. Worse yet, the citizens often questioned Link's involvement. No-one had know of Ganondorf, so it had proved difficult to explain how far his deeds truly extended.
Amongst the anxiety of the nations welfare, she was often brought into it too. It was not only her council that frowned upon some of her decisions, but her subjects too. She was not at all surprised when the title of "ice queen" begun circulating. It was to be expected when she was deliberately undermining the events of the twilight, and that she refused to be wed.
Still, she let the comments pass over her, knowing that their words were nothing more than a result of their spite. The childhood rhyme rose in her mind; sticks and stones by break my bones, but words can never hurt me. She would not allow for some petty conjectures to get to her.
No, she was not some loveable woman who could soothe with her voice, or reassure with her touch. Nothing that was considered 'feminine' could be associated with her. She despised 'womanly' skills like cooking and sewing. Not that she ever gotten much chance to experiment with the chores, but from what little taste she had had - she quite easily decided she disliked them.
There were many words associated with her, each one passing over her head. Cold, formidable, emotionless. But fair. Always as fair as she could be. She was the queen regent of Hyrule, she did not have the time to be such a delicate woman.
There were no ardent feelings ignited when her subjects thought of her, nothing that would make them smile in joy as they recalled a gentle nature. There was only a cold, hard respect. This was exactly what she wanted, and the only way to be successful as ruler.
The council already looked down their noses upon her lack of husband, and her choice to rule independently. She was twenty-two, an age too young to be considering a marriage in her mind's eye. The council disagreed, claiming she should have been wed at eighteen. They seemed to forget that she was titled queen when eighteen, exactly three months after the end of twilight.
The idea of suitors was preposterous to her. She was called arrogant for taking a title without a king, heartless for refusing their offers so cruelly, and aloof for disregarding them without so much as a real reason.
Their complaints might as well have fallen on deaf ears for all the attention she gave to them. Serilda was the only one who knew of her true nature, and the only one she would allow to see her more vulnerable side.
Deep within the recesses of her mind, she did long for a partner, but she wanted someone who could understand her. Someone who would know how she loved to read a book until falling asleep in the chair, parade though her gardens bare-footed just to feel the grass tickling her toes, and get caught in a rainstorm until she was soaked to the bone. But the chances of finding someone who could relate to that were zero to none.
Goodness, just simply saying in passing conversation with a duke that she enjoyed the rain had left him gaping at her open-mouthed.
Only one suitor had ever caught her eye, a prince from the lands of Holodrum. He was so different from the usual stereotypes, and she had found him refreshing compared to all others. He had had warm eyes, and a smile that held promise of happiness. She had become rather intrigued by him, and had wanted to know more. But she had been privy to pleasant charades before and had always kept herself reserved, waiting to see if it was a façade that would slip. She had never found out if he was genuine or not, for he suddenly disappeared one day. He had gone on a hunting trip and never returned. There was no evidence of a body or weapons; he had just vanished.
The news had been of a shock, but she hadn't felt the need to grieve, selfish as though it may seem. She had not felt respectful mourning over someone she had barely known.
She pushed the thoughts aside, she did not need a man by her side. The only reason the court demanded she marry was to produce heirs anyway. Still, even she, proclaimed ice-queen, had to smile when rumours of her heart already being claimed arose.
It was to be expected really. A dashing hero saves the realm and its princess, and the people immediately assume there should be a fairytale ending. The tales of his bravery were emphasised to ridiculous notions, with the number of events held in his honour only adding to their romanticised thoughts. One dance with him, and that was it. Her heart had apparently been captivated.
She had regarded it as amusing, letting the people think what they would. To refute the claims would only strengthen them further. To disagree showed one had something to hide in the first place.
Perhaps she had been attracted to the Hero of Twilight. It was only natural. She thought back to her admiration of his physique in the hospital wing, an involuntary blush rising on her cheeks. He was a remarkable man in both body and deeds…
But that is all it was, a simple affection. Rationalised by reminding herself that it was nothing more than respect. She reminded herself that it was nothing more than respect, or perhaps a lingering imprint of the emotion the Twilight queen had felt on her soul.
Once or twice, she had considered marriage to him, just as a stray thought. The people seemed to think him a suitable choice, it would have been the council that needed coaxing, and of course Link's approval. She was glad that they had never been serious thoughts. It would have been a foolish act upon the slight stirrings of heart. From what she had seen, his was already taken anyway.
Several occasions she had found him in the gardens, looking up at the sky filled with the reds and oranges of twilight. The expression of deepest desolation a clue to who he was thinking about as the softest of sighs escaped his mouth.
She sighed again, leaving the documents to sit by the window, and rested her head against the cool pane. She wondered whether or not he had left, ignoring her warnings of danger.
It wasn't that Link couldn't handle himself - he was more than capable in that field - but still, she worried. There was no doubt that he was healed, but it was always recommended to remain bed-ridden for at least six hours after receiving a particularly potent spell. It would be his own fault should he be harmed again. Yet she would be the sorry sucker patching him back up despite her earlier words.
"Your majesty?" A small knock sounded from the other side of the door before it was pushed open, one of her night maids peeking her head in.
"Yes?" Zelda acknowledged, wishing she knew her name. So many maids lived in the castle; she saw at least one new face everyday, leading her to ashamedly loose track of those she knew, and those she did not.
"A representative from the goron tribe has arrived."
She barely attempted to conceal her surprise. "At this late hour?" Odd, she hadn't been expecting anyone, and it was a rarity that a goron would pay an unannounced visit. In fact, she could not recall a time in which they had ever done so.
"Yes, you majesty. I was asked to bring you to the conservatory, where he awaits."
Zelda could see the curiosity in the maid's eyes, likely wondering what the cause of the visit was much like she was.
To the reason behind it she did not know, but the apprehension in her stomach implied something none too pleasant. It was the exact feeling she had experienced when rushing to the medical wing.
"I shall come immediately." The queen replied, pulling a robe over her nightgown, and twisting her hair into something remotely presentable. It was uncouth to greet someone in nightwear, but matters could not be helped in a time so urgent.
With her progression to the conservatory, the chilling sense of foreboding rose. She could not tell what it signified, but either way, she was not looking forward to the news. She worried that it bore a relation to what Serilda had informed her of earlier.
She could only hope she was wrong.
Leaving the maid at the doors, she entered with all her poise and elegance. The Gorons would not judge her state of attire - even without the royal garments, she was still queen.
The representative turned to face her as soon as she arrived, a deep frown on his face, similar to the cracks in rocks. "Ah, your grace, forgive my late intrusion."
She waived away his politeness, stating it was of no issue. "May I inquire as to the reason behind your visit?"
The goron - who had introduced himself as Gor Coron, an elder patriarch in their community - puffed out a breath, the sound low and gravelled. "A murder has been found in our village."
Zelda drew her hands to her heart, bowing her head in a sign of her condolences. She was greatly unnerved by the news.
The Gorons were a race with a skin formation that held properties similar to that of igneous rocks. Due to this outer layer, even when the Gorons dozed off within lava pits, (how they managed to do so was an enigma to her) the molten rock cooled and solidified to form a protective layering - adding another layer to their already impenetrable surface. Yet Death Mountain's eruptions were explosive due its large production of silica-rich rhyolite - seen by the products of pumice, volcanic ash and lumps of magma that were violently blown from the volcano. This also meant that, hypothetically speaking, as a Goron's skin was partially constructed from silica - a compound rich with silicon and oxygen, it was highly probable that they were susceptive to being explosive.
With their incredibly hard outer exterior, blades constructed of metal did nothing more than graze the surface. Yet if they were trapped in a room of highly flammable objects, the damage would be extensive…
"I am sorry for your loss. I do not wish to upset you, but I must know the manner in which he died." Zelda said, gently. Being part rock usually had its advantages in that Gorons outlived Hylians by several decades. This meant that death was not seen on a frequent basis, and thus she wasn't overly confident in how to react.
Gor Coron crossed his arms, with what looked like a troubled emotion upon his face. "Brother Kalo was disturbingly found strewn over the foot of death mountain." He said stoically, his voice dropping in tone, but not betrayed by emotions.
She gasped, covering her mouth to muffle the sound. "Do you know how this occurred?"
"Bombs. We estimate a large number, judging by the devastation." A hint of anger clipped his words.
"I assume there are no suspects?"
"We are a peaceful tribe, your grace. We do not have enemies, at least not that I am aware of." The Goron said, his anger replaced by insecurity and doubt. "Why anyone would seek to harm our temple's guardian worries me."
Zelda's breathing halted, "Your guardian?" She mumbled inaudibly, the gut-wrenching feeling increasing tenfold.
"You look ill at ease, is something the matter?" Gor Coron asked, looking up due to his short stature to watch her face.
"No, no, nothing to fret over." She lied, reverting to her façade of calm. She offered a small smile that failed to reach her eyes. Both the Sheikah and the Gorons had suffered a loss, and both deaths happened to be the guardians of their temples.
She believed that the temples were erected by their respective owners as a place to hold sacred. That they provided areas to pray, perform rituals or respect their patron goddess. Yet she began to wonder if there was more to it than that. If perhaps they harboured a source of power in some manifestation; which was what the murderer was striving to obtain.
There were bound to be records of such objects somewhere - if they even existed. She wished Serilda were by her side, offering her wisdom alongside her own to coordinate her hectic jumble of thoughts.
"Very well, your grace. I think I will now take my leave, I must apologise once again for the late visit." He sighed, the edge of anger still detectable in his voice through the uncertainty.
"It is of no concern to me, I was awake before I knew of your presence. I only wish I could do more to be of assistance to you."
The Goron smiled weakly, "it is enough that you have listened to me, and that you are informed, I only hope no others suffer a terrible loss."
"As do I," she replied, knowing that it was a lost hope. "May the goddesses watch over you, Gor Coron."
"And to you, your grace." He began walking to the door after Zelda called for an escort, making his way to follow his guide when he turned back to face her. "Before I forget, there was another matter I wished to speak of.
She signalled her hand to allow him to continue.
"There had been many sightings of large beasts roaming round our lands before the murder took place."
She knew what the answer would be before she spoke, but still she asked what animals were sighted, dreading the response.
"Though a size far larger than I have encountered before, and all completely black, there is no mistaking what we have seen. They were wolves."
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