Dante


The tug persisted, achingly close yet untouchable, like an itch located exactly halfway down one's spine. It hovered distractingly on the edge of his conscious as Dante strode into camp and asked after one of the most influential woman in Hyrule.

Growing up on the streets of Castle Town, Impa and the rest of the Sheikah had always seemed like a commanding, shadowy symbol of the crowns might. With their secret technology and magic, the Sheikah were seen with something of a mix between reverence and terror. And Master Impa had hundreds of fabricated stories to go along with her already impressive real life accomplishments. It was said that her first steps lead her into a cave where she strangled a dozen pit vipers and that her succession from adolescent to adulthood was marked by the singular trouncing of thirty different opponents in a single fight. Of course, as he'd grown, the more outlandish stories became more obviously false.

Dante never imagined a positive scenario wherein he would meet the leader of the Castle Town Guard. All of his nightmares included cold stone and torture and the red Sheikah eye.

Zelda laughed when Dante repeated in a hushed tone some of the rumors he'd heard, "Of course they say that. Impa is in a position of power and people always make up stories about those that rule them. Though, the thirty vs. one story is actually true. That was on her seventeenth birthday I believe, and they came at her in teams of two. What the gossips never mention is her whip smart sense of humor. Or her kindness."

"Thirty vs. one?" Dante mouthed soundlessly to himself as they he weaved through the ordered lanes of the camp surrounded by tents following behind a man in flowing yellow robes, which identified him as a Rupee supervisor for the crown.

The man had beady eyes, a poor temperament and had suspected Dante instantly. Squinting and scoffing even after the sandy haired young man had said the code words.

Zelda explained his name was Boaz Hassain, a rather abhorrent member of her staff that had retained his position through clever manipulation of the economy and familial ties. He was useful and the household was too important to insult by firing him simply because Zelda found him distasteful. "Well to be honest, everyone finds him so, but Impa has always been able to keep him in line. Besides, it is good to hear from a perspective that is almost diametrically opposed to your own. It can open ones eyes to new possibilities. Even if you don't agree."

Not wanting to appear crazy and having no good counter argument to that, Dante kept quiet.

They arrived at a large and busy pavilion and Boaz stepped forward imperially with Dante close behind.

"Master Impa, an audience has been requested." Boaz eyed Dante in distaste. "This brigand somehow knew the emergency keywords."

The tent was teaming with important looking people doing important looking things and beady eyes was addressing the rigid woman at the center of it all.

If hard steal were forged into a living statue, it would be this woman. All inflexible lines and perfect posture, she looked like she could bite a sword in half. When her red eyes landed on him, Dante froze.

Intimidation personified.

"Oh do get a hold of yourself. She's on our side."

"Yes?" The master asked stepping forward and giving Dante her attention.

He started sweating.

Zelda sighed in exasperation, "Tell her, the baby's cradle has been robbed but the culprit has been found." and Dante repeated the words aloud, infinitely grateful that he could speak without stuttering.

Master Impa's eyes widened perceptibly.

"Clear the tent." She ordered crisply with a voice magically magnified so the whole bustling tent could hear. And consequently freeing Dante from her gaze so he could take a wheezy breath.

The enclosure silenced immediately. Many shot surprised and curious looks his way but most differentially filed out. Impa nodded reassuringly to a few somber Sheikah that lingered before exiting.

As soon as they were alone, the older woman stepped closer and asked, "Zelda?" and for a moment Dante thought she was talking directly to the Princess inside him who perked up at the question.

"Is she alive?" The master continued, the natural pessimism of experience warring with undisguised hope on her face. It was a heart wrenching moment and the young man realized that he really did not want to disappoint this woman for multiple reasons now.

So he said the first falsely reassuring thing that came to mind.

"Not exactly…"


Kyra raced through camp, for the first time feeling displeased with the formerly ecstasy inducing isolation of her tent. Even running, it still took half an hour to reach her tent, rummage around for a set of dry clothes, change, and then race back to Impa's pavilion. Panting, Kyra arrived in time to see stragglers gathered in groups, roving uncertainly around the command tent, like sand dogs kicked out of the den.

Link was a ball of expectations and frayed nerves, straining towards the source of the pull that Kyra could feel clearer now, the closer she got to the command tent.

It had almost been two hours since she and Link had felt the arrival of the other piece and he was noticeably frustrated with her lack of haste. So strong were the emotions coming from him, Kyra had the feeling that nothing short of instantaneous transport would have been enough to satisfy him. The Gerudo slowed to a walk as she approached the two Sheikah at the door, partially to catch her breath and partially because the site of her running towards anyone was usually enough to entice the pointy end of a sword.

"The Master requested privacy." Shad said as soon as she approached. He was a taller Sheikah with a calming presence and intelligent eyes. Though right then they were wary and suspicious. Even after her time in Kakariko, many Sheikah still looked at her with the disdain of a knight forced into combat with a scullery maid.

She paused, considering. It would be most efficient to force entry. Impa would be made aware of her presence, which would no doubt be welcome in whatever conversation Wisdom and her were having and they could forego repeating information to her.

Or Kyra could wait until Impa inevitably sent for her and enter without causing a fuss with the Sheikah guards. Staying in their good graces was important to her for many reasons. They, more so than most Hylians, were generally willing to give her a chance. She couldn't reward that small faith with violence.

So—much to Link's dismay—Kyra backed away a few steps and clasped her hands behind her back in a stance both alert and technically at rest by military standards.

In her head, Link was a storm of forced calm, but thankfully, he respected her decision and said nothing. After the last week of her differing to other's decisions in most things, he was fairly used to it anyway.

Outward control hiding inner jitters, Kyra settled in to wait.

It was excruciating.

The pull was incredibly strong. Even without Link's bias, she wanted nothing more than to race inside and settle herself as close as possible to that twin source of power.

Helpfully, someone arrived almost immediately to divert her attention. A head with an unruly, dark black mop of hair peaked out from between the two tents on Kyra's right. The little girl squinted at the large command tent, eyes surprisingly calculated. The Gerudo kept her eyes forward, watching covertly as the small figure decided to approached. Tossing her dark hair out of her eyes, the little girl shoved her hands in deep pockets and sauntered up to Kyra with an easy stroll.

"Secret meeting going on in there, huh? What'd ya think they're talking about?" The little girl spoke with the casual dismissiveness of someone far beyond her age, body angled away from Kyra. Her eyes were on Impa's pavilion, feigning disinterest. However, she was rocking up and down at the balls of her feet in a restless gesture.

Kyra almost grinned.

There was no way this girl was from a rural homestead like most of the other children here. She was too clever by far. And the accent? It sounded northern. Furthermore, there was a complete lack of recognition or fear in the little girl's eyes. Most likely from a coastal city then, if she didn't know what Kyra was.

Emulating the girls casual air, the tall warrior lowered herself into a squat to get a better look. First thing she noticed was that the child had probably gone several days without a wash. Short, dark hair was knotted and grease while stains littered the front of her shirt and vest. What was left of her tan, baggy pants was also dotted with holes and stains. Her feet were bare. Kyra's eyebrows rose a fraction at that.

She looked like a sea rat, scrappy, unafraid. Still maintaining that casual air, her dark eyes wandered over to observe the warrior when she lowered herself. The black orbs were bright and mischievous and also somehow completely devoid of malice.

"You came on the supply boat." Kyra inferred.

The little girl didn't even blink "No I've just been working with the kitchen lads. You wouldn't have seen me before."

At that Kyra did smile. The girl was smooth. And experienced. It was an easy lie that would have worked on almost anyone less observant.

In a sharp movement, Kyra stood. Her gaze once again returning to the command pavilion. Tension turning in her belly and the constant pull from nearby made it difficult to focus on this new situation. Kyra ground her teeth wishing Link would offer some advice freely so she didn't have to ask out loud. Though unassuming and small, the girl was obviously intelligent and had the potential to be very dangerous. And unfortunately, there was no way to tell what her true intentions were sense she seemed determined to hide. It was possible she was sent here as a spy.

Then, startlingly, a strange metallic ringing pierced the air.

It was clamorous and echoing. Like the sound of glass shattering or a sword passing through a mirror.


"What is it?" Impa asked the moment Dante's head swiveled in the direction of the pull.

"Courage is close. Probably right outside." He told the Master Sheikah, feeling a thrill of excitement pulse through him at the prospect.

"Kyra." The older woman informed him firmly and Dante's face paled with the reminder of what he'd just learned.

A Gerudo.

A Gerudo in position of the Triforce of Courage.

The concept seemed at once both contradictory and somewhat fitting to Dante. Contradictory because the Gerudo were a people almost exclusively associated with the Triforce of Power. Fitting because the warrior women were widely known for their ferociousness in battle. Which was pretty close to courage.

Distantly, Dante supposed it wasn't any stranger than him, a beggar turned entrepreneur, being chosen for Wisdom. Yet the mental image of vicious, scantily clad raiders—formed by a lifetime's worth of gossip—clashed rather completely with the noble, green-garbed personage of Hyrule's Hero in his mind's eye.

"Pfff. You were terrified of Impa because of the things you'd heard about her and now you see that she's not scary at all. This Kyra is no different."

Not scary at all was stretching it a bit. Dante would say the steely woman was still mostly scary with a dash of motherly concern sprinkled in here and there to throw him off.

The Master in question drew his attention back to her again.

"She spent a significant amount of time in Kakariko this past year, training with us. I had my reservations at first… about her motivations for leaving the desert, about her presence in our lands… But those fears were unfounded. You'll see what I mean soon enough." The Sheikah master shook her head, almost in disbelief. "It will take time, generations perhaps, for our people to judge her's fairly, on their merits. It will take time and endorsement from those in positions of authority."

Impa's gaze, sharp and deadly as a hunting spear, pierced Dante to the core as the woman stepped closer. "If we recognize her legitimacy, it will force others to do the same. As the new barer of Wisdom, you will need to support her in this." The weight of her words bore down on him with a clear note of command.

Her insistence surprised him and gave Dante the impression that Impa had had to explain this concept to people many times before. There was a glint in her eye, something like a mother lion standing over its cub that Dante understood.

Dante threw his palms up in front of him and said, "Of course! I mean, you haven't even given me a chance to agree. I may be new to—to magic and the Triforce lore and…" He huffed in exasperation, briefly forgetting whom he was talking to as he swirled his hands around searching for words. "… and sudden, unexplained—and honestly questionable Goddess decisions—but one thing I've always known is that, where someone comes from has shit to do with what they're capable of."

Not his most eloquent speech but it was said in earnest. After spending years of his childhood trying to convince experienced sailors that a bedraggled sea urchin like himself could do more than swab the decks, Dante understood the disparity that Impa was talking about.

It had taken thousands of hours of scrimping, sneaking, lying and stooping for him to gain access to the treasure trove: a local archive of shipping documents and meticulously gathered climate data. Sequestered away in the unorganized shack, Dante had finally been able to educate himself, grasping at the knowledge like a drowning man clinging to the arrant debris of a ship. Finally, he could be more than just another street urchin bagging for spare rupees.

For two years—in addition to earning the money it took to survive—young Dante had painstakingly organized sheet after decrypted sheet of travel logs. Recordings of ocean swell regularity and seasonal storm occurrence where there, along with all manner of other useful information and instruments that had been gathering dust on their moldy shelves of the aging Dock Masters shack. Information that would be quietly used by Dante over the years.

At thirteen he had begun to make inferences about which voyages where most likely to succeed or fail, and then proceeded to invest appropriately. It was uncanny how often he was right. To Dante, the patterns in the old data were glaringly obvious but when he had started to invest more openly, most sailors just thought he was lucky in his guessing.

Dante felt no need to enlighten them.

Even after a decade of rather remarkable achievements, Dante still had to prove himself to new business partners all the time. Maybe that was just how trade worked. Maybe the rumors of his origins were impossible to escape and he would never live free of the shadow of his poverty.

Or maybe, he would become so successful and impressive that people would be too busy fawning over and adoring him to remember or care about his humble beginnings.

But that would come later.

Either way, he understood what it was to be judged on ones origins instead of actions.

The Sheikah master was still assessing him with narrowed eyes. Perhaps she knew some of his history, knew about the dubious legality of his rise to prominence. And perhaps she saw the raw earnestness in his brown eyes and decided that the honest sentiment was more important than the thievery because after a few, sweaty moments, she finally nodded and stepped back. Dante exhaled a breath of air he didn't know he'd been holding.

"We'll need to gather supplies for you're journey, I'll—"

The sharp twang of metal being pulled from a scabbard could be heard from outside.

Both froze in place, both all too familiar with that sound and its implications. Abruptly gesturing for him to stay still, Impa leaped forward to listen at the door.

"Dante quick! Do you know any ancient Hylian?"


AN: I've officially caught up to previously written material and will now be writing new, without a Beta, so post will become more irregular. Thanks for reading!