Zero

Every morning was the same, as was the case for nearly a month now.

Wake up to the unpleasant sound of the Knight Captain's voice, as he shouted for the soliders to get out of bed. Get yelled at again two minutes later, for doing exactly the opposite. Eventually drag himself out of bed, and garb himself in the tunic he harbored such immense disdain towards (feeling like nothing more than an impostor, as he did.) Trudge towards the training fields in front of the castle at that point, promptly arriving late to practice, much to the Knight Captain's dislike. Have to run an extra fifteen laps as punishment for arriving late to practice, much to the Knight Captain's entertainment. Feel like he could already pass out, at this early point in the day—and that was only what he had to endure before breakfast, mind you. It was hardly the worst of what his day had in store.

Mid-morning drills were just as bad—and said practices didn't even deal with swordplay. That'd come in the afternoon. God, the day had already felt like it'd been going on forever, and it wasn't even twelve. For now, however, he just had to survive training in hand to hand combat—hardly a workout for any trained solider, of course. Though, unlike his peers, he was anything but a solider—trained or otherwise. To say Ravio was the bottom of his "class" was an understatement. Sheerow probably would've even topped him in terms of rank.

Ah—but Sheerow wasn't even here, was he? The Royal Guard had a strict "no pets" policy. He'd learned that the first day when the Knight Captain nearly shot an arrow through the fluffy white creature always at Ravio's side. Since then (and to avoid any more near-death-encounters), Sheerow'd been staying with Princess Hilda instead.

Just as it was her idea that Ravio join the Guard, it was also Hilda's idea that he stay at the castle barracks. It'd help "build his character" the Captain insisted, and Hilda knew, this way, it would prevent Ravio from not showing up at all. But oh, how he missed his little house just south of the castle, and the comforting, messy lifestyle he'd always lived in it. He wished he could go back, lay flat across his old bed (yet unmade), and sleep the afternoon away. He wished he wasn't here, out in Lorule's unforgiving morning sun, getting the hell beat out of him by his current sparring partner.

But it wasn't all bad.

Being at the castle twenty-four seven, he was assured to see his princess every day. Sometimes she's stop by in the mornings, to check in with the Captain—and, despite her busy schedule, she always made time for him to meet him right as practice ended in the evening. She always insisted he spend his evenings with her—even if it meant going with her to boring meetings or lectures, or any of her other princessly duties. Sometimes, however, it would be just the two of them, and those were the days he really loved the most.

They'd spend their time together just like they always had. Perhaps they'd go to the Sacred Realm, or walk around the court yards, or explore parts of the castle he'd never seen. Forgetting about the reality and stress of their lives, and just enjoy that moment they lived. Perhaps he'd tell her jokes, or make her laugh, or make and smile. And just the thought of such a radiant expression on his dear princess' face, was enough to get Ravio though any day of brutal training—including today's.


Promptly falling back to the ground upon being struck—a sharp pain shot through Ravio's left shoulder. He let out a pitiful cry, clutching the pressure point where he'd been hit. His sparring partner only laughed in victory, shooting a nasty, stuck-up smirk at the fallen boy. Ravio returned the expression with a weak glare of his own. The other young man, Viscen, as he was known—was hardly intimidated. Being nearly twice the size of Ravio, and at least five years older—he was, wouldn't you know, currently the most suitable solider in the Guard, at the moment. Surely it was totally coincidence that the Captain paired them against one another.

"That's twelve to zero, Bunny Boy."

Bunny Boy. Ravio sorely regretted indulging the Guard in his full title, on the first day of introduction. "I'm surprised you can count that high," he muttered, nearly inaudible.

"What was that?" Viscen scowled, leaning down, clutching Ravio's collar—jerking him forward. Again, the violet-haired boy let out a pitiful yelp. Smirking at the sound, Viscen said, "What's say we make it thirteen to zero?"

"Rather poor sportsmanship of you, Viscen," a stern, though feminine voice chimed in.

Both boys turned at the sound, seeing none other than Lorule's princess, herself. "P-Princess Hilda!" the solider stuttered, letting go of Ravio in an instant—who fell back to the ground with a thud. Viscen bowed accordingly, but Hilda only let him her most displeased scowl.

With her few graceful steps, she stopped at Ravio's side, offering him her gloved palm. Almost solemn, though not ungrateful, he took her hand as she helped him up. Her angered expression had long since vanished; she smiled sweetly. "Good morning, Ravio."

"Your Grace," he said in reply, giving a bow—feeling a familiar shooting pain in his shoulder, as he crossed his arm over his chest. Wincing, he asked, "W-what brings you here, today?"

"The Captain invited me. He said your regiment was having some sort of swordplay assessment, today?" She smiled cheerfully—to which Ravio didn't.

"Wait—that's today!?" he said frantically, looking around at his peers who all but ignored him.

"Oh Ravio," she said, giving a hopeless smile. "You'd forget your own head if it wasn't attached to your neck."

But how could he forget something like this!? Wasn't the Captain supposed to, oh, give some sort of notice?

"C'mon now, Ravio, we must'a told you at least a dozen times," a familiar, gruff voice chimed in. Hovering over them was his aforementioned advisor—gazing upon Ravio with a sort of self-satisfied smirk. The young man narrowed his olive eyes, realizing, this was—in fact, not a coincidence. He'd not said a single word to him about today's test till this moment. Ravio didn't need to guess, to know exactly why that was.

The Captain had it in for him from day one. After hearing from Princess Hilda about a potential new recruit, Ravio was not at all what he'd pictured. He was reluctant to accept anyone who wasn't of his choosing in the first place, so from the moment he laid eyes on this this small, rabbit eared boy—he knew that he most certainly did not have what it took to be a solider. Ravio wanted to hate him for thinking such a thing. But such a thing was only the truth. A truth everyone in Lorule saw, except its blissfully unaware princess.

"Forgive him, Captain," Hilda said, all too cheerily. "He's a bit forgetful." Ravio crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes and entertaining a sour expression.

The Captain laughed, "Nothing to fret over, Your Highness. However, I think he can make it up to both of us by doing a 'grade A' job today, isn't that right, boy?"

Ravio's sour expression twisted, just as he felt his stomach do the same. "Mm…" was all he said, neither in confirmation nor deny.

Smacking a firm hand on Ravio's pained shoulder, the Captain said, "Since the princess is on a busy schedule, I figured you'd be the first up. You'll be facing off against Viscen." He turned toward the other young man, who looked nothing less than devilishly pleased. Ravio felt the color drain from his face. Today just kept getting better and better. "Go grab your weapons and be back here in five minutes," he told the two boys.

"Ah—before you do," Hilda interrupted, "I've brought something for you, Ravio." Hearing her worlds, the boy turned to his princess, who was now holding out an oddly familiar object.

It was a shield; black trimmed with a dark-red face. It bore the symbol of Lorule's Triforce.

"It's the shield of the Lorulean royal family. I wanted you to have it for your test today," she said, offering him a kind smile along with the item. "The Lorulean Shield."

Somehow unsurprised, Ravio just gazed at it with a low expression. He knew it looked familiar. He recalled Link bringing home a similar item one day, during his adventure. The Hylian Sheild. Surely, not a coincidence.

Why did Princess Hilda insist on doing this? She could wish with all her heart—give him an aesthetic make-over in the false image of the Link—but in the end, it was all in vain. This way, he was only like a mirror reflection. And surely, he'd shatter just as easily.

He gave a soft sigh. Reaching out, taking the sheild with both hands. He nearly dropped it the second he did, however, before getting a firmer grasp upon it. It was heavier than it looked. He felt pathetic, realizing Hilda'd just been holding it without any strain at all. Regardless, he cleared his throat, and regained his posture.

"Thank you, Your Grace," was all he said, before turning away, walking towards the armory across the field. Hilda smiled, perhaps intentionally choosing to disregard his low expression.

Having watched the scene, the Knight Captain gazed upon Ravio with a judgmental glare. "Isn't the royal shield only supposed to be wielded by the greatest knight in the kingdom, Your Highness?" he muttered to Princess Hilda.

"Why, yes," Hilda said casually, smiling as she did, "it is."


After his momentary absence, Ravio again found himself on the training ground—standing in the middle of a make-shift ring. In front of him was his opponent, smirking already. Ravio stared blankly, however, hardly caring; already knowing the outcome of today's match.

"Do your best Ravio!" A kind (though out-of-place) voice cheered him on from behind. He looked over his shoulder, giving Hilda a shy wave and smile in confirmation—only to again face forward, seeing an expression exactly the opposite. Viscen scowled at him as though her were the most worthless creature in the world.

"Bet you think you're so great, getting pampered by Princess Hilda, like that," muttered his opponent suddenly, with a voice as sharp as the daggers he glared at Ravio.

Caught off-guard, the boy raised a violet eyebrow. "What?"

He only continued, spouting his words of venom. "Boy, did our little Princess make a terrible mistake, choosing a wimp like you to join our Guard. She really thinks you'll be able to defend her one day?" —A statement to which Ravio gave a bitter, insulted frown. "She couldn't'a chosen a worse candidate in all of Lorule," Viscen hissed, though nearly laughing as he did. And Ravio, growing annoyed, gripped his palms tight around the sword and shield in his hands.

Perhaps it was because he couldn't deny the truth in Viscen's statement.

Regardless, just as Hilda'd always told him to do—Ravio took what ever insults were thrown at him, and disposed of them just as quickly. However, he most certainly was not expecting—nor tolerant of what the other boy had to say next.

"Though, that's not exactly the first time she's made a few bad choices… now is it?"

With eyes suddenly going wide, chills went down Ravio's spine. He looked up to the boy with an almost appalled expression, as he continued spouting his vile words. "That wrenched ruler of ours was the reason we had to disband the Guard in the first place, wasn't it? What good is a ruler if they can't protect their subjects? Pathetic."

The fingers the gripped the hilt of his sword twitched. Unconsciously, Ravio held his breath for a moment.

"She's the cause of all that's wrong in the world."

Ravio lowered his head, looking to the ground below his feet. As he did, the boy in front of him laughed aloud. "What, are you gonna start crying again?" he taunted.

But, quite on the contrary, sorrow was not the emotion that filled his heart, at the moment.

Suddenly, and so unlike himself, Ravio lunged forward at Viscen with his sword. The taller boy was caught substantially off-guard, as were their spectators. The few dull conversations from the sidelines had fallen silent.

Luckily for Viscen, however, Ravio was still Ravio—and his coordination was still the same. His attack was easily dodged, but when he looked back to the dark-haired boy in front of him, he was even more surprised to see the expression upon his face.

Ravio's normally cheerful, olive eyes burned with something darker; a rage nothing else could send him into. As if Viscen had done more than toss around a few insults, Ravio's heart pounded with anger.

"Insult me all you'd like," Ravio finally replied, whispering softly, hostly. "Curse me to hell and and back for all I care. But I—" he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. Suddenly, he lunged at the other boy once more, raising his voice as he did, "I will never allow anyone to speak of my princess in such a way!"

Viscen raised his shield, again blocking Ravio's attack. Despite his abnormal behavior, the taller boy was anything but intimidated. He laughed heartily, enraging Ravio further. Was this a joke to him? Swinging his sword with anything but precise choreography, rage was the only thing that fueled Ravio's blows. And sadly, that was not enough.

"Looks like little Bunny Boy has a soft spot of the princess!" Viscen smirked. "Though that's not saying much—!" Swiftly kicking the shield from Ravio's other hand, it fell to the ground with a loud clank. A sound that almost instantly brought Ravio back to reality. The reality that he'd just angered the six-foot-tall solider in front of him—and that he was now completely defenseless. Looking to the shield, then back to Viscen—his eyes went wide. "You're soft all over."

He look a step back, suddenly scared for his life. Before he knew it, Viscen took a hostile jab at him, aiming right for his face. Ravio jerked his head to the side in a poor attempt to dodge. Though he was but a second too slow, as the sharp blade sliced his cheek, right below his eye. He let out a small cry, clutching the cut. As he did, however, Viscen took the opening so easily presented to him, kicking Ravio in the stomach.

He again cried out in pain. Aching, fearful, uncoordinated—he fell back to the ground. His sword slipped from his hand, and, remembering how useless it was to him, he didn't reach for it. Seeing Viscen looming over him, readying his sword for another blow, Ravio did all he could—shielding his arms over his face. He slammed his eyelids closed—feeling terrified tears burning in the corners of his eyes.

What a fitting end, for such a pitiful, pitiful coward, were the only words resonating loud in his mind.

"Enough!"

His heart simultaneously lifted and fell in that moment, hearing the familiar voice call to his rescue. And after three seconds of not being impaled, he dared to open one eye, looking past his arms. He did not see Viscen's sword as moments before, but the hem of a flowing, white gown. Hilda'd stepped in; he looked up, seeing the princess holding her staff out—pointed directly at the tall boy before her.

Relief washed over Ravio. Nearly passing out from the pain still resonating in his stomach—he fell on his back.

Hilda was prompt to unleash her disdain and anger with Viscen's poor, near-murderous behavior. She was also quick to scold the Knight Captain as he didn't step in. Asserting her voice of authority, she disbanded the Guard for the afternoon. Though she was sure Viscen would receive full punishment for his actions. Ravio, however, simply laid on the ground in defeat. Though, not entirely in defeat from Viscen. Or mostly, for that matter. The defeat that stemmed from the girl still looming over him.

"Ravio," Hilda said softly, as she turned back to him. She had a concerned expression on her face, as he laid there with a blank expression—still gripping his stomach. Kneeling at his side, the princess asked, "Are you alright?"

He only nodded, then wincing as his stomach resonated with pain. Wearing a weak expression, Hilda helped him sit up slightly. Looking almost disappointed, she asked, "Oh, why did you anger him so, Ravio? It was only a test."

With eyes suddenly going wide, he was quick in trying to correct her. "M-Me?!" he said. "He was the one who—!" He paused though, realizing it might be best not to speak further. He felt nothing less than ashamed and embarrassed with himself. From the corner of his eye, he looked to Hilda, staring at him for an answer. Again, he looked away.


"She really thinks you'll be able to defend her one day?"


He could not even defend her from the insults of worthless man like Viscen. "Nevermind," he eventually said, attempting to stand up. As he did, he stumbled a bit, falling back on ground, gripping his stomach. Hilda caught him before he could, of course.

"Let's get you to the infirmary," she said softly, placing her arms around him.

"I-I'm fine, Your Highnes—ah!"

Ignoring him, she helped him to his feet. Giving in, he sighed and leaned upon her—beginning to realize he could not help but resent Hilda's kind actions, despite how much he appreciated them.