Sorry this took me so dang long to get out. I really struggled with revising this one. I hope you guys enjoy and thanks for waiting patiently for this installment! R&R and happy reading!


A memory came to me.

"Mother! Mother!"

A little girl, dressed in a frilly pink gown ran through the hallways of an ornate palace. That little girl was me, a tiny Princess, no older than six years of age. I remembered the way my heart beat as fast as it could as my short legs frantically ran to my parents' wing of the castle. The door to her chamber was heavy and I leaned my small frame against it, pushing with all the strength I could muster. I fell to the floor in a heap of silk as the door suddenly gave way. There was my mother, sitting on a chaise with an embroidery project in her lap. I collected myself up off the floor and I ran to her. My fingers clutched onto her brocade skirt and the kind of sobs that only a child can cry began to pour out of me.

"Darling child, what is the matter?" my dear mother asked as she pushed the fabric off her lap and gathered me up in her comforting arms.

"My friend Zenith told me that her parents did something called an engagement and now she has to marry this boy when she grows up." I choked out between sobs.

My Mother smoothed out my hair and hugged me closer. "I see, Zelda, but why is this making you so upset?"

Appalled that my own mother could not see the depths of my earth-shattering problems, I pulled myself away from her embrace and crossed my arms.

"Because! Zenith said that her mum and dad did the same thing to her older sister Dana, and now that she is grown up, she has to marry a man that has warts and smells like rotting onions." My lower lip wobbled as I thought of poor Dana's fate. "Zenith says that this boy she is going to marry is a mean boy, and he will grow up to be a mean man."

In the comforting way that only a mother could do, she took out a soft handkerchief and wiped the tears that were streaming down my face.

"And the worse part is," I tried to say, but a sudden fit of weeping came over me and I could not bring myself to speak of the awful thing that Zenith had told me.

"Hush your crying, dear. Tell me what is the worst part is," said my mother as she kissed my tear-stained cheeks to try and console me.

"The worst part is," I hiccupped. "The worst part is that Zenith said that every parent does the engagement and all little girls have to marry who their parents pick for them!"

At the confession of this terrible news, I wrapped my arms around my Mother's neck and cried onto her shoulder. Her gentle hands rubbed my back as she let me have my cry.

"Mummy, please don't make me marry a man who is mean or ugly! Please don't engage me to anybody!"

Over the sound of my sobs, I heard my mother's clear, delicate laugh. I pulled away from her again, all crying aside, and looked her in the eye. She was smiling. Her brown eyes sparkled and a few strands of light blonde hair fell over her forehead as she laughed.

"What's so funny?" I asked, hurt that she would find this situation amusing. My future marriage was at stake! I could be married to a goat for all she cared.

"I am laughing because you needn't worry yourself, daughter." She said as she stroked my cheek.

"Are you and father not going to make me marry anybody?" I asked, hardly believing that Zenith could be wrong.

She looked down at me with a gentle compassion. "I would never do such a thing," my mother assured me, tucking my hair behind my ears "You will never be forced into a marriage, that I can promise."

A flood of relief washed my woes away as I heard those reassuring words. I knew then that I would have nothing to fear, for my mother always kept her promises.

"And if anyone tries to make my Princess marry a man that she does not like, I will turn into a mother bear and protect my little cub!" She leaned forward and playfully rubbed her nose against mine.

"Thank you, Mother." I whispered, grateful that my mother saved me from this horrid fate. "But what about Zenith and Dana? Why do they have to marry men they don't like?"

My Mother sat back in her chair to contemplate my latest inquiry. I leaned forward to rest my head against her chest.

"Some mummies and daddies want their daughters to marry because they think that it will be to their advantage, but at the expense of their daughter's happiness. There are many reasons why parents arrange for their children marry when they grow up. It does not mean that they love each other. In fact, they may never even like each other, so both of them are very unhappy people," she explained to me as best as she could, gently running her fingers in my hair. "My father loved me so much that he did not want me to be a pawn in a political game. The goddesses blessed his decision and of her own free will, his little girl married a Prince. Your father and I chose each other. We fell in love and became husband and wife. It is only fair that we allow our only precious daughter to do the same. We do not want you to have an unhappy life, like so many poor girls do."

I thought about her words. Some of what she said made sense to me. I was too little to understand what a "pawn in a political game" meant, but it did not sound like a good thing. I thought about Dana and Zenith and wondered if they were pawns and what kind of game their father was playing. One more question popped into my head and I sat up suddenly.

"Mother, how will I know which man to marry?"

"Oh!" she said. I could hear in her voice that she was not ready for such a question. She patted my back as I waited for her to answer.

"You know how much you love your father and I?" She finally asked.

"Yes!" I answered happily. I dearly loved my parents.

"Well, there is a different kind of love. It is the love that your father and I have." I nodded, wanting her to go on. I knew that they loved each other, but I wanted to know more about this different sort of love.

"Grown up love is such a difficult thing to explain to someone who has only been alive for six years," she teased. Her smile faltered at my eager face. I was not letting this topic go so easily.

"That is something that I am afraid you will just have to wait to learn, my love. All I can tell you is that when you meet the right one, you will know love when you see it."

"But how do I love him?" I cried out.

"And again, that is something you will learn on your own, child, and you will learn because you will be free to love and marry any man you please. As long he is a good man and truly loves you. I promise you this. You will never be caught in a trap that you cannot escape. I will make sure of it."

The memory faded as my vision blurred with tears. I made my way down one of the long, sweeping corridors of the Manor, my destination the small library near the study. My mission was to find something, anything that could help me escape this trap that I was so cruelly caught in.

I wrapped my arms around myself and wished with every ounce of my soul that my mother was here to turn into a mother bear and protect her cub. My greatest fear as a little girl, as silly as it may have been, was now being realized and my mother was not here to protect me. The promises of my childhood were shattered. The reality of the present was too much to bear without her kind and loving support. Every inch of that blasted Manor rudely reminded me that my mother and father were gone, and I was left alone to deal with the mess that I was in. If only she knew that I was indeed being forced to marry a man, and a despicable man at that. I would rather have warts and a bad smelling man any day rather than a man who sought to subdue two kingdoms under his power for greed and gain.

The door to the library was closed, but the presence I could feel inside the room was enough to lift me from my troubled thoughts. I had nearly forgotten about him. The Fierce Deity. Our exchange in the woods seemed like so many years ago. I closed my eyes and asked myself if I had the strength to deal with him right now.

His emotions felt calm, for the present moment. I could not hide myself from him forever. The mystery surrounding him demanded to be solved. Perhaps talking to him now would be a decent distraction from my woes.

Truly, what was was the greater woe in my life now? My dear friend being possessed by a volatile mask or the fate of two kingdoms hanging in the balance? I let out a weary sigh before I grasped the latch and pushed the door open.

The room was small, but snug and welcoming. The entire place carried the rich scent of parchment and leather. Mismatched chairs were grouped around a stone fireplace and an ancient oak table stood in the middle of the room. The walls were lined with gleaming, hand-crafted shelves made from the same oak as the table. A book was crammed into every inch that they could spare. Our collection here may have been sparse compared to the one at the castle, but the books were ones that my father had considered too important and personal to keep in a place where anybody could have access to them.

Or tear them to shreds in a rampage.

The Fierce Deity was not rampaging now. He towered over the table, the surface of it stacked with dozens of dusty tomes. The Fierce Deity's enormous frame filled up the cozy little library. A book rested in his hands and his head moved slightly as his eyes scanned the text of the page. All he needed was a pair of spectacles to rest upon the edge of his nose, and he would have made the perfect librarian. I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me with a slight click of the latch. He made no outward sign that he acknowledged my presence, but our Triforce connection revealed that he was acutely aware of my company. I peeled off my cloak and neatly placed it on one of the leather armchairs closeby.

"How many of my servants did you have to harass before they showed you this library?" I teased in an attempt to lighten my own mood. Finally, he looked up from the pages and he laughed.

"There was no harassing. I was a perfect gentleman, using all sorts of polite words and I daresay I even batted my eyelashes a bit," he teased back while a mischievous grin played on his lips.

"They were probably so frightened of you, they gave you no argument when you demanded to know if there was a library at the Manor, and just took you straight here," I countered playfully as I strode over the wooden floors and placed myself at the table, right across from where the Fierce Deity stood. He watched me as I neared him and those emotions of his rapidly swelled into a storm at my nearness. Then they were smothered as he hastily put a block between us, cutting off our connection.

How interesting.

The Fierce Deity snatched a book off the table and peeled open the ancient, yellowing pages of the old tome. "That is a more accurate portrayal of what happened," he said with an amused smirk pulling at his lips. "But I was not unkind."

"Not unkind..." I echoed his words dubiously. "That is a relief, I suppose. One less fire that I will fail at putting out. You know, you exhaust me."

He casually flipped the page of his book. "And why is that?" he asked with near disinterest.

I half laughed, half sighed. This man could surely not be so ignorant of how his behavior affected those around him? He went from a raging beast that attacked a man to that moment in the woods where he was…

How was I to describe his behavior during our last encounter without it being embarrassing. Vulnerable? Desperate? Unwittingly seductive?

"You just…" I stammered as my cheeks reddened from that memory. "You just change your emotions drastically. And let me tell you, it is very hard to follow. You flip your behavior in an instant and I never know what to expect from you."

My only answer was the sound of ruffling paper as the Fierce Deity thumbed through the book. "And why is this a problem for you?" he finally asked, not sounding even slightly interested in my plight.

"Why is that a problem?" I restated, dumbfounded at the audacity of this man. Either he knew exactly what he was doing and was just playing the fool to further cause me distress for his own amusement or… perhaps he had no idea the consequences of his actions. Something told me that it was the first of the two options. He seemed the type that enjoyed to tease.

I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed in annoyance. "It's a problem because I never know what you're going to do next! I'm walking on pins and needles with you, and like I said, it's exhausting. I have never been more exhausted in my life and I have only been with you for two days! Every day I have spent with you takes off one more year of my life."

A low laugh emanated from deep within his chest. Fierce Deity shut the book with a snap and he turned his full attention on me. A smirk decorated his face and he shrugged his shoulders.

"That's the way I was created," he answered nonchalantly, as if that should have been obvious already. At this he picked up another book. He inspected the title and, dissatisfied, put it down on a pile of other rejected books. The Fierce Deity looked back up at me and he leaned over the table that was between us. "One could say that I go through cycles of emotions," he said in a hushed voice. "Much like the moon cycles through her phases, so I go through cycles of my own. The moon and I, we are one in the same." He let those cryptic words hang in the air as he turned away from me and picked another book off the shelf behind him.

I had nothing to say back to him. What was there that could even be said? All of this talk about the moon and his so called creators left me absolutely speechless. A few more little clues were thrown my way and I decided not to push for more information. Slowly, bit by bit, he was opening himself up to me. Perhaps it was just best to allow him to speak instead of trying to pry it out of him. The more I tried to force the secrets out of him, the tighter he kept them locked away.

The tall bay window to my left filtered in the morose late afternoon light. The sky was completely filled with flat gray clouds creeping over the kingdom. Another snow shower would fall any moment now. It struck me how the weather of Hyrule was matching my mood.

"It took you long enough to get back here." The Fierce Deity's grumbling voice drew me back to the conversation. I pulled myself from staring out the window and looked back at the Fierce Deity. He stood over the table with a book in his hands, thumbing idly through the pages. The block between the Triforces had been lifted and I could sense his emotions once again. He watched me with those snowy white eyes of his as he awaited my explanation.

"That is because I was busy cleaning up the mess you left back at my castle. Thank you for that, by the way," I replied pointedly.

"Oh, well, as long as it's clean now," he remarked with amusement in his voice.

At least he could look back on today and laugh.

"You aren't going to tear up this library, are you?" I challenged him, mostly playful but also still quite irritated with him for that. "I have had enough of such nonsense for one day."

He tossed the book in his hands onto the reject pile. "No, not this time. I already expect to find nothing that I'm looking for." He turned to the shelves behind him to reach out and pluck a book from a very high shelf. "I will not be having another tantrum anytime soon, not about that at least." He remarked, turning over his shoulder to glance at me, a wicked smirk on his face and I had the most distinct sense that he was teasing me again. There was nothing that I could feel from him that was malicious. In fact, our banter was… enjoyable to him.

I said nothing back to him but continued to marvel at this enigma clad in white armor. My silence did not bother him much and he took to reading his latest book.

"I am sorry that you did not find what you were looking for… but what is Arkhaos?" I said, hoping to move the conversation from silly banter towards something more relevant. He just gave a non-commital grunt in reply, but there was an ache to his aura that struck me as melancholy. After my question, he stayed silent for so long. He just shuffled through his pile of books and scowled down at them as if they had personally offended him somehow. I thought that perhaps our conversation had come to an end, but he surprised me when I heard him let out a tremendous sigh and then began to speak in his deep voice.

"It is the land where I come from and it is nowhere on your maps nor is it mentioned in any of your books. To you, it might as well not exist. That is why I gave into such a ferocious fit of rage; I am lost in a world that has no knowledge of my old home. I really have no idea how that boy traveled between Arkhaos and his own world. It baffles me. It hardly makes any sense." I expected him to fall into another rage and rip a book in half with his teeth or something heinous like that, but much to my relief, his emotions remained calm.

"No, I suppose it does not make much sense. I cannot say that I have ever heard of such a place but… we will not give up. We will keep searching for your home." I tried to encourage him, but the Fierce Deity remained doubtful, both within the Triforce connection and by his outward demeanor.

"If it still exists," he muttered darkly, shaking his head in what seemed like defeat.

I sat down in a plush winged armchair by the dormant fireplace. Not many things made sense in this life, I thought somberly to myself as I watched the white giant peruse through two more books. The events of the day crept back to the forefront of my thoughts. A dark cloud fell over me as I recalled the fate that my traitorous council sought to force upon me. Then a face decorated with a smug and dark eyes came rudely bursting into my mind. Taran… that was the face of my Kingdom's supposed future King. What was I going to do about him and this farce of marriage? I closed my eyes and fell into a spell of grief over these troubles added on top of more troubles.

"What is wrong with you?" asked the Fierce Deity with an abruptness that pulled me back to the present. He stared down at me with a quizzical frown, a book in his hands waiting to be opened. Though his voice was slightly brusque, I could feel genuine concern coming from him. It caught me off guard to sense something so benign for another. That tiny shred of concern he showed for me made my defenses lower just a bit. So I asked him, "Do you remember that man you attacked outside of the library?"

The Fierce Deity scoffed and I could see his grip on the book tightening. "Yes." He answered sharply. "Who was that man?"

"That was Taran. He is an ambassador from Termina and…well…" I paused, unsure if I wanted to reveal more about my supposed marriage with that man. But before I could decide if I wanted to tell him or not, the Fierce Deity's mood darkened.

"I do not like him," he growled ominously in his rumbling voice. He stepped around the table and stormed over to where I was sitting.

"Oh, you do not like him?" I said, pretending to sound surprised. "I thought that you two got along well and were going to have a jolly time at the tavern tonight."

The Fierce Deity raised his eyebrows and smiled. Not a smirk or a grimace or a devilish grin, but a true smile that lit up his entire face. His entire countenance transformed in that instant and my knees trembled weakly even though I was sitting down.

I found it to be a handsome change.

"Was that a joke? From you?" He jested with that ear-to-ear grin on his face and a laugh chasing his words. "I'm impressed!"

I laughed softly as the Fierce Deity continued to smile at me. My cheeks burned hot as they flushed pink from his gaze. "I am not always so stuffy," I bantered back to him. "Sometimes I can crack a joke or two."

He gave another laugh, the sonorous tones filling the space of the room with the near pleasant sound. "Indeed. Wonders never cease." The Fierce Deity teased lightly.

After that, I was rendered silent and hopelessly shy. I could not stir any smart remarks or clever quips. I just sort of sat there and stared at him with my silly blushing face and heart pounding a thousand beats in one second. Those white eyes regarded me for a second more and the smile on his face faded. His expression remained… soft… even as he fixed me with the gentlest scrutiny.

"What about that man?" He asked. I noticed that his voice had dropped some of its usual gruffness. "I get the strongest sense that you do not particularly care for him much."

While what he said was true, I decided to turn the tables on him. I did not feel up to the task of regaling him with the tale of my wicked councilmen and upcoming nuptials and Taran's plan of a forcibly united Kingdom. That would come at another time, if I even decided to bring it up at all.

"Indeed, what about that man. I could also say that you did not particularly care for him either. Why did you attack him so violently?" I gestured for him to sit in the armchair at my left, but he declined by shaking his head no, continuing to tower over me.

His response was quick and to the point. "I wanted to."

"What made you want to?"

His next answer was not so immediate as the first. The Fierce Deity took his time pondering his response. In our connection, he became thoughtful. I felt the wheels in his mind turning, like he was sorting out information he felt like giving away and what he wanted to keep for himself.

"I admit… " he said after a moment or two of contemplation. "That when I saw him, it brought back memories of something that deeply angered me… and something that I severely hate."

I recalled the pure rage that I had seen on his face. He had looked like a demon straight out of the depths of the underworld. There was no doubt of the hate in his heart for whatever Taran reminded him of.

"Does this thing you hate have anything to do with the language that you were speaking?" I questioned, excited that he was actually giving me little pieces of information.

He cocked his head to the side and looked down at me quizzically. "Was I speaking another language?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "You were speaking some language that sounded horrendous. I never want to hear it again."

He barked out a short, humorless laugh. "I must have been so swept up in my own fury that I had no idea what I was doing. I do not blame you, Princess, for feeling that way. The language you heard was the tongue of an enemy's clan. This enemy… well, I suppose that seeing Taran sparked my hatred because when I saw him… I saw the face of my enemy."

Divine Wisdom gave a mighty tug on my instinct. A single name lingered in my consciousness. It was the name that I heard Taran whisper to his son, as he was talking about Fierce Deity speaking in the mysterious language. The pieces of the puzzle were falling together, though I still could not understand what any of it meant. The name in my thoughts, I dared to say it now the Fierce Deity just to see how he would react.

"Majora?"

The Fierce Deity's mask of calm was shattered the very instant that name rolled off my tongue and into the air. He glared down at me with a mixture of confusion and outrage. His emotions
rapidly rose to a boiling point, rushing through the link and into my Triforce so violently, it physically pained me and I let out a strangled, startled cry.

"Where did you hear that name?" he demanded, his voice deceptively calm like the stillness before a vicious storm. He took a few short steps closer to my chair and stood over me threateningly.

I tried not to cower before him. "I heard that name from Taran," I said breathlessly. The Fierce Deity did not stop his towering over me. I could feel anger seeping from him. I did not even need my strange connection with him to know that he was entirely outraged.

But not at me. It was not even because of me. This rage had everything to do with the name Majora…

He leaned down so close to me and grabbed both arms of my chair. I heard wood cracking beneath his grasp as his fingers tightened their hold.

"Do not ever say that name so casually in my presence," he ordered in that dangerous whisper. "In fact, I shall not ever hear your lips utter than sinful word ever again. Am I understood?"

I breathed out a nervous yes. Reluctantly, as if he feared I would stand up and shout the name for all of Hyrule to hear, he backed away and gave me room to breathe again. I was too afraid to open my mouth again, so I waited for him to explain why he hated Majora so much, for I assumed that this was the 'thing that he hated' and had something to do with the enemy clan and the language. Yet he said nothing more about it. He was far too furious about the name to have a decent talk about it. I also detected confusion amongst his anger.

I was bold enough to ask one question that I was sure swirled around in his thoughts as well. "Why do you think Taran knows that name?"

He pondered my question for a while. I waited, studying him while his gaze was pointed out the window and trained on the gray skies above. the confusion I sensed only grew.

"I have not a thought for why he would know," he admitted. "It is a mystery to even me."

A mystery to even him? I looked up at him and chewed on my lower lip. He was trying so hard to keep me in the dark about the truth of who he was.

"Would it not be so much easier to tell me of your past?" I protested. "Why don't you sit down and tell me how you came to be?"

He laughed bitterly. "Easier? I think not. All I need is for you to provide resources and support for me to find a way to break my curse." Then he abruptly changed the subject. He whipped his head from the window and pointed that white stare directly on me. "How about you tell me why you hate this place so much?"

"What?" How did he know I hated the Manor? "That is none of your concern! My business is my business!"

The Fierce Deity grinned devilishly at me. "Exactly. My business is my business." He turned away from me and made his way back to the table piled high with books.

"You have your secrets and I have mine!" He called with his back still to me. "Maybe I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." His fingers grazed over the gold-leaf title of the book in his hands. I could not make out the title. The Fierce Deity flipped the book open and started turning the pages.

A thought struck me as I watched him flip through the book. Earlier that day when he had snatched Taran's letter out of my hand, he grew angry and gave the letter back because he claimed that he could not read my "barbaric language." I hoisted myself out of the chair and walked over to him. White eyes glanced in my direction as I took my place at his side.

"I thought that you could not read," I said matter-of-factly. His scrutinizing gaze turned on me again.

"Would you like to know how I learned to read your language in less than an hour?"

"I would absolutely love to," I replied. The Fierce Deity pulled out a rickety old chair from under the table.

"Take a seat," he said. "I will explain to you what I know of how this mask works." I obliged and took the chair that he offered me.

"Before I arrived at your once grand library, I looked through the memories of your friend, the boy's body that my mask is on. It was from his own memories of learning to read that I taught myself. I learned from his memories." He paused to give me a few seconds to wrap my head around that bit of information.

"You mean to tell me," I said, a little dumbfounded, "that in less than an hour, you learned to read by looking at Link's memories of learning how to read?"

The Fierce Deity slowly nodded yes.

"You can look through his memories?" I was thunderstruck by this.

"Oh yes," he confirmed though his mood turned a bit sober. "I have complete access to any memory of his that I want. He has quite a few interesting stories." There was a pause and then a funny little smirk played on his face. "Was he a wolf at one point?"

"Yes he was, actually. You see, a few years ago, Hyrule was cursed under something called Twilight and—wait! That is beside the point!" I put my elbow on the table and rested my head on my fist. "You can see Link's memories, but can he see yours?"

"Oh no," said the Fierce Deity. "He can see what I allow him to see, but I allow him to see nothing. My will dictates what he can do, see, or think, and my will allows him no freedom from my grasp. I am the captor, not the captive."

My heart sank straight to my feet. What a cruel fate for my friend, to be trapped inside of his own body.

"Does this make sense to you," asked the Fierce Deity.

"It makes as much sense as it can, I suppose. You are the one who possesses him. There is something that I have noticed, though. How is it that I can feel your feelings?"

"It is a complete accident that you can feel my feelings, to be truthful." He said. "When you and your companions were in the woods, I felt your presences drawing close to me. I possessed Link's mind because he was the one who was most vulnerable to me, since his ancestor had used me a long time ago. Though at that moment, I thought that he was the same person as the boy from long ago. It excited me that he was there again, for I had believed that the day he would return would never come. I manipulated his mind so strongly that it possessed your mind as well. You were also vulnerable to me because of your ancestor. Your strange friend was not so vulnerable to me, yet I still managed to at the least put her mind in a haze."

"That is so...predatory," I remarked.

"I know. It is a brilliant design. My mask was crafted by clever gods..." The Fierce Deity paused. I wanted to inquire about these "gods" but he noticed his misstep and hastily moved on, cutting me off before any questions could be asked.

"In any case, that connection between you and I was supposed to break but it remains because of one thing." He came towards me and picked up my left hand in both of his big, gloved hands. My breath caught nervously in my throat as his thumb grazed over my glowing Triforce.

"It is because of this," he reverently breathed, "we share a continuous bond. This power that resides in his body connects with yours, even though he has no control over his own facilities any longer. This relic still functions regardless."

I did not draw my hand from his grasp, but rather let it stay in his hands. "Is this connection involuntary?" I asked.

The giant man squeezed his hands over mine before letting me go. "No. I am in complete control of it."

"Can you feel mine as well?" I blurted out in a sort of panic. He had never made an acknowledgment of my feelings before, but I could not foolishly believe that my emotions were safe from him.

"I can." He confirmed for me, raising his brows a bit as if surprised by my question—as if it should have been obvious.

"I am not so sure that… I am fine with that." I stood from the chair and crossed my arms over my chest protectively.

"You can block it." The Fierce Deity supplied, again talking to me as if this were common knowledge. "Surely, you have felt me break this connection."

"I have, but I cannot figure out how to do that on my end," I told him. "The Triforce connection from mine to Courage feels muddled and distorted. It does not feel normal. I cannot get a strong handle on how to control it."

My confession drew a wicked grin out of him. "Well, isn't that a pity?" He teased. I gasped and then rushed to close the small gap of space between us. I peered up into his face and tried to give him a withering glare.

"Tell me how to block it." I demanded.

His grin only widened. "You are wise," he muttered playfully. "The Bearer of Wisdom, is what I have learned you are known as. Figuring this out is not something that should be difficult for you."

"That is hardly fair! I can only assume that you won't tell me because you like to feel my emotions."

"You like to feel mine," he retorted without apology, raising his eyebrows. "I know this to be true. I have felt it." There was a laughter to his voice that now felt menacing. Anger bubbled inside of my chest like hot boiling water and I stepped closer to him. We were toe to toe and I peered up into his face fearlessly.

"Tell me how to block it." I hissed in a heated demand.

My boldness only seemed to further amuse him. He inched ever closer to me and bent down until our noses nearly touched. I heard him intake a great breath of air into his lungs and then release it in one bluntly stated word.

"No."

My temper got the best of me. I glared up at him, not intimidated in the slightest by his towering nearness or smirking mug.

"You are a brute." I declared hotly. "Why must you treat me with such disregard, as if this were all some silly game to you? Have I not allowed you into my home and into my castle and into my life, on sheer goodwill alone? You are possessing the body of my dearest friend and I am still giving you the benefit of the doubt! The least you could do is allow me to have privacy within my own thoughts."

That smirk slid off his face and was replaced by an ugly grimace. He curled his lips into a snarl and I was overwhelmed by the rush of negative emotions flooding across the link. At first I felt rising frustration. Anger. Outrage. And then…

He turned his face from me. I felt something snuff out all of his fury.

Shame. He felt ashamed.

The Fierce Deity refused to look my way. He glanced all over the room, trying to find a spot to stare at that was anything but my face. I saw him gaze down at his feet, then his head whipped over to the window and lingered there for a second before he glanced to his clenched fists. His head bowed and pure white hair fell all around his face, shielding his expression from my view.

"I… must admit…" He started off slowly, his deep voice sounding ten times heavier than I had heard yet. I felt him hesitate. There was an internal battle that he waged as he struggled to find the words to say. This change of attitude in him slaked my anger. Somewhat. I waited patiently, silently, for him to go on.

"This is not a simple thing for me to confess but… having this connection… as strange as it is…it brings me a great deal of… comfort… companionship that I have not had before. I do not wish to lose this connection. I fear that… if you learn to block me then… you will cut me off completely."

Those gloved hands once more reached out for mine. He took my left hand in his and brushed over the glowing Triforce with his fingers. It was a gentle touch and my heart softened for him. I did not believe that he was being insincere with me. His vulnerability in this moment spoke volumes. I felt that he was being more honest with me than he had been in the day and a half that I knew him. And it was a raw, real sort of honesty that I found almost too personal to hear.

"I… I understand. I do." They way his fingertips danced over my skin held me captive for a moment and my cheeks flushed red. "But… it is not fair that you have this advantage over me. Be on equal ground with me and I will not pursue learning to block the connection… and I will not ask you to teach me… but only if you stop blocking me."

I saw him lift his head and that eerie blank stare met my blue eyes. He seemed almost surprised at my reaction to him. Perhaps he expected me to tell him no. Perhaps he thought that I would continue to pursue learning to block the connection. I could not say why I even offered to keep the communication open between Triforces.

Maybe… maybe I found a strange sense of companionship in him as well…

We held one another's gazes for an age before I felt him squeeze my hand. "Fine. I can agree to those terms." He growled though there was not a note of ire in his words.

He felt uncertain of himself as he let go of my hand and stalked back to the pile of books on the table. I watched him as he grabbed a book from the top and thumbed through it.

My mouth stayed silent as I watched him but my mind remained a restless storm. I kept questioning my actions. Was it not violating to one another that we could sense each other's emotions so intimately? I should have immediately demanded to cut off this connection once I learned that it was mutual. But as I kept my sights trained on the back of his head, sensing him mulling over his own thoughts, I questioned if that were the right course of action to take. I felt a deep sense of loneliness during his confession. His vulnerability gave me glimpses into his persona that I had not expected to be possible. He was lonely and full of regret. Perhaps it was better to remain linked to him in such a way. If I befriended him, opened up myself to him and became vulnerable to him, then perhaps he would open up to me and tell me the truth of his being.

"Now I have a question for you, Princess." The Fierce Deity drug me out of my thoughts. I heard him call to me, his mood oddly subdued after our little moment.

"What question do you have for me?" I wandered over to the table and saw that he had an open book in his hands. The Fierce Deity did not reply right away but instead set the book he was reading into my hands. I instantly recognized what book he was reading.

"Tales of Termina" was a very old children's book of stories that my great Grandmother had received as a present from her father when he made his first journey to Termina. Zelda had given that book to her son, who in turn handed it to his son, and finally ended up in my possession. As a child, I memorized all the stories by heart. As an adult, I was amazed at how much the tales reflected on the sinister atmosphere of Termina. Each story was plainly dark to an adult, but a child was blind to it. To my child self, it was just a collection of charming cautionary tales. As an adult, I finally discovered the source of my nightmares. I kept this book tucked away in this library because my father had believed it too valuable and personal to keep at the royal library.

"What happened to these pages?" asked the man as he pointed to a page in the middle of the book.

The page was titled "The Two Dancing Giants" and a dimly colored picture depicted two gruesome, disfigured men who I presumed to be the "Two Dancing Giants," of this story. I flipped that page, knowing full well that every single scrap of that story was missing. When I was a girl, I would always stare of the two hideous creatures underneath the title, and I would flip the page, hoping to see the story magically appear. All I would see was the title of the next story, "The Tale of the Twelve Swimming Zora Maidens." As ugly and scary as the giants on that page were, I always wanted to know about that story. The edges of the paper suggested that they had been torn right out of the binding long ago.

"It has always been this way," I answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, for no important reason," he answered truthfully. "I was just curious."

He thumbed through the book for a few more seconds and then closed it, putting it gently on the reject pile. I watched his actions with disinterest. Why would he not just tell me who he was and what curse he needed to break? I could help him so much more if he would just open up to me.

"You know, it seems to me like those books aren't helping you in any way," I said, gesturing to the mountain of tomes. "Perhaps I could be able to help you far more if you would just tell me everything."

My companion said nothing, but stared at me with a curious frown. He set another book down and walked over to me once more. He continued to stare at me, his emotions and face solemn.

"You're not helping yourself by keeping secrets from me," I whispered, suddenly desperate to help him, to help Link. "Just let me know..."

Ever so gently, he placed a hand on my cheek. I jumped at his unexpected touch. His hand was warm on my skin and a strange, tingly feeling grew in my stomach.

Fierce Deity though felt sad. Truly despondent. My heart wrenched for him and his unknown source of pain.

"Do not make me relive it," was all he said. "It is too great a burden to share."


The light of sunset seeped under the crack of the closed door I was standing in front of. My fingertips barely grazed the beautifully wrought iron handles. My heart swelled at the thought of what lay behind the door. I dropped my hand and sighed. I was too afraid to even touch it properly. Thinking about my mother earlier in the day had prompted an unrelenting torrent of memories and little moments with my parents that only lived on in my heart.

I should have been at my room in the castle, putting the memories away and moving forward with solving the problems of today. Yet I was here at the Manor, having my heart ripped open at every turn. I knew that it would not help my cause one bit if I opened that door and allowed my vulnerable state to be open to even more pain. It would be pouring salt on the wound to allow myself to drown in what that room meant to me.

But it had been so long since I stepped beyond that threshold…

I made up my mind and I quickly opened the door before I could do the smart thing and talk myself out of it.

Blank white sheets covered the bed, chairs, and the decorations around the room, protecting them from dust yet diminishing the beauty of the large room. Wide windows graced the west and north walls. A giant, canopy bed stood on the south wall, facing the windows. A beautiful stone fireplace with a highly polished wooden mantle was in the far right corner. A low, backless couch sat at the end of the bed and I knew that beneath the cluster of sheets in front of the windows was a collection of silk chairs and a lovely table with roses and lilies painted on the surface. I knew every detail of that room. Nothing had changed about it, except the presence of sheets covering all the beauty of the room. I longed to see it again, not just remember it. I went around the room and simultaneously pulled off every sheet and revealed what was hidden beneath. The room started to look like itself again.

The evening snowstorm had finally fallen and the light of the sunset was gray. I looked upon the fireplace and saw a sheet covering a very tall object. It was a winged leather armchair sitting in its rightful place by the fire, like a King in his throne room. As the snow outside fell, I could almost hear the girlish voice of a child asking her father to tell her a fairytale...I decided to let that sheet stay covering the chair.

I walked over to the bed and picked up the coarse white sheet in my hand. I felt of it, slowly running it over my fingers. Picking up the corner of the sheet, I ripped it off the bed and let it fall to the floor in a pile of white.

A gorgeous gold and blue quilt covered the bed. An array of equally beautiful gold and blue decorative pillows were piled up against the headboard. I titled my head to the canopy above me. Lanayru, Farore, and Din were skillfully sewn in gold thread into the blue fabric. The scene above me depicted them creating Hyrule. I pulled my eyes from the canopy and ran my hands over the pillows, thinking about the last time that I was here on this bed. I let myself fall into a pit of grief.

"What is this place?"

I nearly hit my head on the canopy! The Fierce Deity was standing right by me. I had not heard him come into the room. My own personal gloom suffocated any feelings coming through our bound Triforces.

I did not answer him for my throat was choked up with held back cries. Taking note of my silence, the Fierce Deity leaned against the wooden post of the bed and sternly looked down at me.

"I felt you standing outside of this room's door for a good fifteen minutes and the second you walked in, I was overwhelmed by your sadness." He crossed his arms. "I am curious as to why you're so melancholy. You've been like this since you got back from the castle."

I let my finger trace an embroidered vine that was creeping up the side of the quilt. Wondering how to begin, I asked the Fierce Deity if he would sit.

"I prefer to stand," he replied. "Tell me of your sadness." I felt compassion from him, though he spoke to me gruffly and his posture was stiff and closed to me.

"You want to know my sorrow but you will not tell me of yours?"

"You want to talk about it." He contradicted me. His voice was steady and even and firm. Yet somehow also gentle. I could not deny that he was wrong. It had been years since I spoke of this incident and I suddenly felt that if I did not tell him right now, then I would fall apart at the very seams. So I took a deep breath and willed myself not to burst into tears.

"When I was a girl," I began softly. "This place was my summer home. My parents would let me stay the entire summer here. At night, my parents would come and stay here at the Manor. This was their room..." I paused, letting myself swallow a fresh sob that was threatening to release itself.

"I grew up in this Manor, loving it more than my castle. During the first few weeks of winter, my father and I would stay here. It was just the two of us. We would sit by the fireplace in this room. He would take the chair over there and I would sit on the floor by the hearth. It was our special tradition. The years went on and the routine of coming here in the summer and winter stayed the same. Then one summer, right before I turned sixteen in the fall, my parents fell ill."

I grabbed a pillow and held it close to my chest. I needed to hold on to something while I told this part of my story.

"It was near the end of the summer. I was sleeping in my chamber, the one that I am in now, and I was awoken by the sound of servants running past my room. Something did not feel right. There was a tension in the air that disturbed me. I got out of my bed and opened the door. A servant rushed past my door and was headed to the flight of stairs at the end of the hall. Those stairs led to the floor of my parents' room. I ran after the servant.

It was a blur, the journey to their room. Outside of their door was gathered a whole rabble of servants. I saw my nurse, Moira. You have seen her, she was the woman we saw sleeping in the kitchen earlier today. Moira ran to me and told me that my parents had gotten very sick. I demanded to see them, but she declined, saying that the physician had not allowed letting anyone come in until he knew more about what ailed them.

For what seemed like hours we stood outside their door. Finally, the physician came out and sought me. He pulled Moira and me aside and told us that my parents were sick with a disease that he had only read about in medical textbooks. It was extremely rare, and highly fatal. He said that they were too weak to be moved to the castle, so he was going to have them taken down to the small infirmary of the Manor.

Stretchers were brought and my parents were put upon them. Servants lined the hallway as my parents were carried out of their room. I had seen them only a few hours before, and they looked healthy and happy then. But as I saw them lying on the stretcher, they looked gaunt and sickly as if they were already corpses.

My parents were strong, and they held on to life as all the physicians and healers in Hyrule worked like mad to try and nurse them back to health. For a few months, they lingered in the Manor's infirmary. I remained at the Manor, refusing to go back to the castle unless my parents came with me, healed and healthy, or I left alone to bury them. I never went back to my old room, but I stayed right here in this one. It was the last place that I had seen them healthy, and I wanted to hold on to that feeling for as long as I could. As I lived here, I became as a ghost. My emotions were drained and I lost the joy of life. My parents were slowly dying and I felt as if I were dying as well.

The last warm days of summer turned into the coolness of fall. My sixteenth birthday came and went. In Hyrule, it is a right of passage to turn sixteen. It signifies a child's coming into adulthood. I did not celebrate my sixteenth year. I spent that day sitting by my mother and father's sides, reminiscing on birthdays of my past.

Then there came a day, a beautiful fall day where all the leaves surrounding the Manor had turned golden and scarlet and the sky was blue and the earth seemed at peace. That day my mother and father breathed their last breaths and gave their souls up to the goddesses. Their Kingdom had commemorated their passing by giving them one last beautiful day. I was by their bed when they fell into the final sleep.

Somehow, I managed to bring myself to this very room. I lay upon this bed and wept for them, into these pillows like a child. I was now alone in the world. There were no siblings to share in my grief. My mother and father's families were at the castle, sharing in their sadness together.

The High Councilman, Caldwell is his name, came into the room and laid his hand upon my shoulder. He asked me to stand. I could not. All I could manage to do was turn around and lay on my side and look up at him. It was here that I was declared the crowned, ruling monarch of Hyrule.

There was a funeral, a large and somber affair. My parents were greatly loved people. My small coronation was private. I was only moving from Princess to Ruling Princess. At twenty-three years, I shall be crowned Queen of Hyrule. I was not too excited about being Hyrule's Princess. I wanted time to grieve for my family, yet duty was greater than my personal needs. I spent my first year as Princess heavily relying on the Council to help me. When I was seventeen, I finally started to grow into the Ruler that I am now, but I still mourn for them. I vowed never to step foot into this place again. It held too many memories...too much sadness. The ghosts of the past haunt me here, and I cannot escape it. I came here to protect you, and my heart is paying for that sacrifice—"

I realized that I had made a terrible mistake in telling him all of these things. I could not hold back my sorrow. My emotions were so overwhelming and ferocious, that I saw him wince from the force of our connection. I had to leave him. I had to leave him before he saw me break down into a helpless, weeping mess. I jumped off the bed and ran out of the room with tears running down my face. The Fierce Deity felt mild surprise as I abruptly left him standing alone in that room. As I ran down the hallway with my weeping growing stronger with each footfall, I sensed his pity follow me.


Moonlight clouds floated across the sky. The Fierce Deity was standing in the fresh blanket of snow, staring up at the moon again. I did not see him, but I felt him. It was as if he were sending me a vision of his whereabouts, trying to entice me to join him underneath the lovely winter moon. He was imploring me to come outside and join him. My warm covers held me to my bed. I would have, but my heart was too filled with mourning.

The pillow where I lay my head was stained with tears and my head was throbbing from all the crying. My mother and father were not the only things I wept for. I cried because of Taran and the hard-heartedness that my trusted Council had shown me today. I mourned for Link, my dear friend and my Hero. I cried for Midna and the cruel fate of losing her loved one yet again. I even cried for the mysterious man standing in the snow. I cried because I knew that he had sorrows as well. I could feel that there was a deep story he kept secret and it pained him. I felt as much when he made himself vulnerable to me earlier in the day. When he had held my face and opened up his soul to me for those few seconds. I even cried because of my own confusing feelings for him.

From his vigil outside, I felt the Fierce Deity tug at my soul, almost begging me to come outside with him. I turned in my bed and ignored his call.

It was my time to mourn. I was afflicted with my own grieving and I did not want it to stop. I lay in my bed and let my wounds of the past open again and again. Tomorrow I would pick up the pieces of my heart and tackle the issues of the present.

My tired mind drifted off to sleep and my dreams were surprisingly untroubled. I dreamt of the Fierce Deity. In my dream he was standing in my room. The door to my balcony was open and the cold air drifted in. I could feel compassion and pity coming from him. My face was still on the pillow and though I did not acknowledge him, my half-open eyes followed him as he pulled a nearby chair over to him. He dragged it to the bed, right next to me. The Fierce Deity sat in it and he leaned over me.

My skin tingled as he brushed my hair out of my face. Still pretending to be asleep, I let him sit there and caress me. A rumbling, soft whisper interrupted his gentle movements.

"Sorrow is not to be your lot in life, Zelda." I reveled in him saying my name. It was the first time he had said Zelda, though it was only in my dream. For a long while the dream stayed that way with him smoothing out my hair and brushing his fingers against my cheek. Eventually the dream changed into something boring and meaningless.

I woke up feeling cold. The door to my balcony was open. I pulled the covers tight around my body, wondering why the door was open. Then I remembered that the Fierce Deity had left it open during my dream. I looked to my right and my heart dropped to my knees.

There was a chair sitting right next to my bed, in the very same spot that the Fierce Deity sat in my dreams the night before. I realized that his comfort had not been a dream. When he said my name and stroked my hair, it had not been silly wishful thinking of my own imagination.

He had come on his own to comfort me. I smiled at the thought, and my stomach felt a little bit funny. I hugged my covers tight over my chest and wondered what sort of drama the Fierce Deity would bring today.