No humor in this chapter, I'm afraid...

I should really be sleeping right now but obviously no I'm on FanFiction what else would a college student be doing on a Wednesday night harharhar -fails courses-


Chapter Twenty-Nine: Fear is Fear

His stomach churning and his mind buzzing with the effects of rum, Link checked the pocket watch. They had ten minutes left. But the strangest thing, he thought, was that Tempest had not returned. Even after promising to be back soon. He remained absent while Tara drank and smoked and laughed and scoffed and spilled her story to him. Link saw with every word that she spoke how inherent this story was to her character. How much it had shaped her, helped her define who she was. And slowly, he was beginning to understand. For the first time since meeting Tara, he wasn't completely lost. It was a nice feeling.

"Nia had prophetic dreams," he said. "As in, she could tell the future?"

"Not exactly. Her dreams didn't show her the future. They showed her the Temple of Time."

"How is that prophetic?"

"Because," she sighed, "her dreams provided her with pieces of information regarding the temple. Things that were not in any book, had never been experienced by anybody."

"Except for the Hero of Time."

"Right."

"Like the pedestal. That's how you knew. Because your sister dreamt about it."

Everything was finally fitting into place in a frightening, disconcerting way.

"Yes. She would sleep, and then she would dream about the temple. Twice a week at most. And in her dreams, Tempest would be there, leading her through the grove and through the temple, showing her things."

"That's...unbelievable," Link said.

He found himself wondering how, even as Tara told the story, he seemed even more shaken than she did. Even after all that time she had spent struggling to hide this from him. She sat before him, telling him this story as if it were the most natural thing in the world, while he sat nearly shaking in his chair.

"The problem with it all was that he never said anything to her in the dreams," she continued. "He only showed her things. She used to tell me that it was as if all of her other senses had disappeared, leaving only her sight."

"So that made the 'prophecies' useless," Link guessed.

Here, Tara shrugged and smiled dryly. Sarcastically. Ironically.

"Yeah," she said, "until Nia remembered how much her bookworm of a little sister knew about the world. After that, it was easy as pie to understand her dreams."

"Wait, you mean—?"

"Mhmm. Nia would tell me what she saw, and I would interpret it. She told me every single detail, and I would sit and ponder and look at my equations and my history books. And I always, always, always figured it out. Not to say I always wanted to figure it out."

"Nia forced you to help her interpret the dreams?"

"She convinced herself that understanding the dreams would help her understand how to use the temple to her advantage. But the only way for her to understand the dreams was through me."

Link was finally starting to understand. Why she knew so much about time, about Tempest, why she had let herself become consumed in the pursuit of knowledge.

"It was terrifying for me," Tara said. "I could still see my sister going crazy. The sister that had practically raised me. Except this time, she didn't even see it. She thought that she was perfectly okay—that she was more than okay. I realized later that the prophecies were still part of the same defense mechanism, the same psychological torture. They convinced her that she was making new discoveries, getting closer and closer...but never letting her get there."

"Driving her crazy," he said.

"And all the while, for six long years, my whole soul became ravaged by the idea of the Temple of Time. By the idea of time itself, by the philosophy and the science surrounding it. I lived and breathed time, because my sister lived and breathed time. Of course, by that time, my mother had already died. It was just me and Nia."

"She was dragging you with her," Link mused. "She was driving you crazy, too, wasn't she? Truly crazy."

Tara opened her mouth, as if to respond, but then succumbed to silence. As she did, Tempest appeared beside her, almost out of nowhere. Link furrowed his brow in confusion, completely unaware of how Tempest had returned.

"Tempest? Where were you?" he asked.

"I just took a walk."

"Long walk if you ask me," Tara snorted.

Tempest smiled and began playing with Tara's hair, as he always did in moments of silence or idleness. It continued to make Link uncomfortable.

"I'm here now," he said. "What did you talk about? I didn't think I would find you here when I came back."

"I'm telling Link here how insane you made me," Tara smiled, looking up at him over her shoulder.

Tempest's face scrunched up in what looked to Link like dismay, and his fingers froze where they were in between strands of her dark, violet hair. And then, everything began to shake, and Link knew that it was time. The chasm opened up beneath them, and together, silently, they let themselves fall into his dark maw as Tempest disappeared from view.

This time, instead of him leaving the temple completely, Tempest was waiting for them when they fell, as ungracefully as before, down into the center of the temple. He was sitting by the pedestal, his arms crossed and his eyes closed, looking as if he were sleeping. But Link saw him and knew better. Someone like Tempest certainly did not need to sleep. As Link spread his arms out and just let himself lay there, staring up blankly at the high, dramatic ceiling of the temple, Tara stood up, dropped her bag to the ground, lit her pipe once more. By that point, Link hardly noticed the smell of the smoke. She was pacing with a nervous spring in her step, back and forth, her gaze flashing from Link to Tempest.

"You never finished the story," Link said, without moving.

"Yes I did."

"You said she had those dreams for six years. What happened after that?"

"She died."

Tara said it so matter-of-factly, with such an absence of emotion, that Link was taken aback. He sat up and stared at her, looking for some kind of hint on her face, in her newly open eyes. But there was nothing. She looked the same way she sounded: emotionless. Something had triggered her to withdraw back into herself, like a frightened turtle into its shell, and it didn't look like she was going to come out any time soon.

"Listen, pretty boy, I told you what you asked of me. I told you about how I know Tempest, how I know about your dreams, and how I know so much about the temple. You can't trick me into telling you more."

"I wasn't trying to—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she sighed, rolling her eyes. Link knew that he had lost this round, and he sat and tried to accept it. "Hey, Tempest."

"Yes?"

"Give us the next clue."

"You were right," he said. He kept his eyes closed.

"Right about what?" Link asked.

"The day, the time, the year, the place. All of it was right."

Link and Tara looked at each other, mouths open and eyes wide.

"You mean..." he began.

"...We found it?" she finished.

Tempest opened his eyes and stood up, graceful and dark and beautiful.

"Yes."

"Damn, we got lucky."

The ring began burning again when Link grabbed it and squeezed, his heart pumping and his skin tingling in pure relief. He thought for a moment that he was going to faint, for he became dizzy and the world began turning in the midst of such incredible...happiness? Sadness? He wasn't entirely sure. He fell onto his back once more, closed his eyes, saw Zelda's face there. She was suddenly so close, so attainable. That smile, the glimmer in her eyes, the touch of her skin...for the first time since she had died, Link truly felt as if he could see it all again. Bring her back to this world that had so cruelly torn her from him—no. That she had so cruelly left.

It's actually going to work, he thought. I'm going to win this game and bring her back.

"All we have to do now is go back and figure out what we need to change," Tara breathed. "And we still have so much time."

Maybe I don't have to die...

"About two days," Tempest said.

Is that even fair?

Link was still reeling, unable to fully participate in the conversation. Unfamiliar thoughts were running through his head. But maybe, just maybe, those thoughts had been there all along. He just hadn't realized it. Link wasn't just thinking about Zelda's life anymore—he was thinking about his death. About what the balance was between life and death. If things went as planned, he was going to bring back her life without any sacrifices.

Was that fair?

Zelda had given her life for his. Had let herself die because she knew it was to ensure his life. And here he was, laying on the floor of the Temple of Time, inches away from just bringing her back.

I haven't lost anything, then.

Is it fair?

For the first time, Link truly wanted his own death.

As payment.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, Zelda's voice erupted like a volcano inside his mind. Screaming, crying, seeping through every crevice and corner and empty space. And the ring was now even hotter than fire against his skin. But he didn't move. He lay, let the voice fill his head, and let the ring burn into his flesh.

I'm going to keep my promise, he thought.

"I say we sleep," Tara said. "We have time, and I'm exhausted."

"Yeah..." Link sighed.

Without bothering to ask his permission, Tara reached into his things and grabbed one of the blankets that he had packed. She spread it out on the floor and sat down, smoking until the pipe was out and only the stench remained in the air. Link did not sit up. He simply lay where he was. In the heavy silence, Tempest stood up from where he was at the pedestal and moved to the blanket, where he sat down beside Tara. Link saw her offer him a chocolate. But instead of taking it from her, he opened his mouth, and waited until she placed the chocolate inside of it herself. Practically cringing, Link turned is back to them.

"Hey, before you sleep, you still owe me something," Tara called.

"I was hoping you had forgotten."

"Don't insult me. We made a deal. Now tell me about Zelda. About why you want to bring her back so badly. And none of this love bullshit, all right?"

"A lot of it has to do with love, you know."

"But not all."

Link was starting to get frustrated. With her tone, the way she was trapping him, the fact that he was forced to tell her. And also with himself, for he was starting to realize that (once again) Tara was right. But he didn't want to admit that he wanted to bring Zelda back for reasons other than his undying love for her. He wasn't questioning his love...but he was questioning the other emotions running rampant in his heart. He needed to be moving. He stood up, taking off his shield and sword and laying them on the ground. As he walked, he took off his hat and the over-shirt and chainmail of his tunic as well, because he was sweating like a pig.

"You keep calling it a burden," Tara said. "I understand, more than most people, how difficult the death of a loved one can be. But there's a reason you keep calling it a 'burden.'"

"Yeah."

It was as if she were reading his mind, and that made him even more fidgety. But, in a way, it made it easier to talk to her. She was with him every step of the way. Even as she sat there beside Tempest, their crossed legs brushing, chewing their pieces of chocolate. Link kept pacing, kept fiddling with the ring around his neck.

"All right, how about we do this," she sighed. "Tell me how she died. That'll be a good place to start."

I died to save you, Zelda said in his mind. Tell her that. Tell her.

"We...we were fighting the Source."

"Ah yes. The famous final battle. Well, the second final battle, anyway. It was all over the papers."

"What did the papers say about it?" he asked. After what had happened, he hadn't bothered to check. He had tried to block it all from his mind.

"Nothing detailed. They talked about the secret entrance in Kakariko Village, the dramatic battle underground. And, of course, the death of Princess Zelda. But nobody actually knows what happened down there."

"I refused to talk to the reporters."

"Understandable."

"I wanted it all behind me..."

"But that was impossible, huh? So tell me, Mr. Hero. What did happen down there?"

"It was terrifying," he said. "So, so terrifying."

"Wow, you're actually speaking like a normal human being now. You're not afraid of being afraid."

"I was afraid for her," Link hissed. "Not for me."

"Fear is fear."

He froze and looked over at her, feeling much too shivery and fidgety for comfort. She had a smirk on her lips and her eyebrows were raised.

"Right?"

"Right," he grumbled. Then, he started pacing again. "I was afraid. I didn't think we were going to get out alive, to be honest. But I wanted more than anything for us to live. She made me a promise."

"Sounds a bit shallow, huh, Mr. Valiant Knight?" She pursed her lips. "Wanting the princess to live so you can get your reward?"

Her words were making him furious. He whirled around, fists tight and teeth clenched. He could feel himself rising and falling with his heavy breathing.

"She promised me she would marry me," he seethed. "That we were going to be together. Forever. She would be mine and I would be hers."

Tara blinked her now wide eyes, his words having silenced her. Tempest's expression had not changed since Link had begun talking. Stoic, calm, content with anything and everything. That made Link angry, too.

"I-I'm sorry," she finally stuttered. "I had no idea."

"I made her a promise, too," he said, turning back around.

The tears were rising again, and he forced them back down again. He didn't even want to close his eyes because he knew that in that momentary darkness, Zelda's face would appear, like a dream. A terrible, wonderful dream, that could have just as easily been a nightmare.

"What was your promise?" she whispered.

"I promised that I would protect her."

"But she died. That's why you want to bring her back."

"No."

"No? That's not why you feel burdened?"

"I mean, yes. But it's more than that."

"Tell me. It's okay."

"I'm just holding up my end of the deal."

"Link, it's not about that anymore."

Her voice had become motherly, comforting in a way that confused him. He turned around to see her standing, a concerned expression making her face look angelic. The soft tone in her voice and warm shimmer in her eyes made his heart feel at ease. Zelda's voice was much more subdued, less like terrible shrieking in his ears. Echoing, constantly.

"You need to talk about it," she continued. "It's crushing you. Trust me, I know how that feels."

"How could you possibly know how it feels?" he laughed.

"Just tell me, Link. Just tell me," she repeated, unfazed at his outburst.

Link stood for a few moments, huffing and puffing and unable to comprehend the situation in which he'd found himself. He was standing, soothed by Tara's voice while driven to insanity by Zelda's voice (or was it the other way around? He wasn't really sure).

"During the battle, we were...the monster was...she..."

He could hardly bring the words out, now that he was trying to. He realized, at that moment, that he had never truly talked to anybody about this. It was the first time since her death—her sacrifice—that he was trying to come to terms with what had truly happened.

"It's okay, Link. It's okay."

Tara was close to him now. If he had reached his hand out, he could have touched her face. There was the smallest, most gentle smile tugging on the corners of her lips. It was a strange side of her, the same he had seen with Luda back at Renado's house. A sisterly, motherly expression.

Of course, he thought. She spent years taking care of her sister and mother.

He took a deep breath, inhaled the natural toxins of the monstrous temple. And when he opened his mouth next, the words came rushing out.

"The monster was going to kill me. But she pushed me out of the way, and even though I was supposed to die...she died. She sacrificed herself for me."

Tara's face fell.

"Link, I—"

Now that he had started, Link just couldn't stop.

"You know, she told me that she made that sacrifice so that I don't have to make any more sacrifices," he said, "so that I can live my life in peace. But how the hell am I supposed to live my life in peace knowing the price? Knowing that I am alive, in this hell called peace, because the one person I loved died?"

Tara looked almost as shaken as he felt. Her entire body trembled, and tears had collected on the surfaces of her eyes. Behind her, like a shadow, Tempest had stood from his seat and come up behind her. Link could hardly register her expression, her body language, her terror, the darkness of Tempest's face, through his rage. It was uncontrollable now.

"I loved her so much. More than anything I've ever loved before. And I promised her that I would protect her. But what did I do instead? I took her life. I took it right from her heart."

"You didn't take—"

"And now I have this burden on my shoulders, on my chest, deep inside me, that I have to carry with me wherever I go. The burden of knowing that her death was the price of my life."

"Stop it. Stop it right now."

Tara's voice was icy. The tears had disappeared, and she was staring at the ground. As if holding herself back—as Link should have been doing. But he couldn't. The dam had broken.

"My life really isn't worth anything now that she's dead," he continued. He was hardly aware of what he was saying. "Nothing. I should be the one who's dead. I deserve to die."

"Stop it!"

Before he could register Tara's movements, she brought her arm as far back as possible, stared at him with frighteningly wrathful eyes, and slapped him across the face with every ounce of power she had.