Great Goddesses of Hyrule, here we are at last.
Daaanng. After all this time, I gotta admit there were moments in December, and July, when I didn't think this would ever be finished. I'mma thank everybody who had faith to stick with this story, even if they didn't review. You guys are awesome. Cookies for everybody, but mostly for Moon White Rose and James Birdsong, who DID review. Let's dedicate the epilogue to them.
I own nothing but a few good ideas, a notebook, and a pair of dueling Gerudo captains. Check 'em out in my short story, Paid in Blood.
"And thusly was the Evil King finally defeated, the Hero of Time's work completed at last."
The storyteller brought two fists down atop each other, pantomiming the return of the Master Sword to its fabled pedestal. The ring of small children huddled 'round giggled and cheered. One, a dark-haired youth not yet upon his tenth birthday, sneered a bit and spoke up impudently.
"Aw, come on! Didn't she hafta fight him?"
An unseen smile crinkled the storyteller's eyes. "But of course, every Hero must face a villain, and the Hero of Rains was no different. She faced him in the castle, mere hours before returning the sword. And it was a fierce battle!" Gloved hands swung a phantom blade at the children, who giggled and squealed at the theatrics. "Steel clashed and spellfire flew, for the Evil King was a sorcerer, more than a match for any mortal warrior!"
"Then how'd she do it?" This time the questioner was a little girl, a worn rag doll clutched tightly in tiny arms.
"She was not alone." Few theatrics accompanied this statement, and eyes that had been lively took on a distant cast. "The Hero of Rains was assisted by the very shadows themselves, and it was the actions of her friends that kept the Evil King distracted long enough for her to trap him forever within the Sacred Realm."
"Forever?" The dark-haired boy asked doubtfully, pushing his tongue nervously against a loose tooth. "My momma says I could get got...by Gannidorf." The name was spoken in a fearful whisper.
Now those eyes, partially concealed with dark gold locks, twinkled mischievously. "Well, he is trapped...but sometimes..." That melodic voice lowered as the storyteller leaned down slightly, and the young audience mirrored the gesture. "...sometimes he reaches a hand out, and GRABS the wicked children!" The shout was sudden, and punctuated by the quick grab of the little girl. She screamed, then laughed, struggling free. The rest of the children followed suit, laughing and squabbling amongst themselves. One of them, a sandy-haired lad with freckles, approached the chuckling storyteller. He was the oldest among them, having just passed a dozen years.
"If the Hero won, why'd we have to leave Hyrule?"
The storyteller regarded him solemnly, the chuckles leaving her. She doubted most of these children remembered their ancestral home, if any of them had ever lived there at all, and wondered how many of those born after them would even be told the old tales. She knew that her own retellings were rare enough. But this boy, though he coudln't have been more than four at the time, this boy remembered.
"The Hero of Rains could not save Hyrule." She answered finally, a tinge of sorrow her voice. "Too little had been done prior, and mistakes had been made, mistakes unforgivable in the eyes of the Goddesses. So, the Hero instead brought hope, hope for Hyrule's people. Such hope came at a heavy price, but it came nonetheless."
The boy tilted his head, opening his mouth for another question, but was interrupted by a shout. The sun was beginning to set, and several of the young mothers were calling their children home. His was perhaps not as young, but she called nonetheless, and it was not a summons he could ignore. With a nod of his head to the storyteller, he joined the other kids in hurrying home. The storyteller merely sighed, watching them go and leaning against the tree shading her. Her kind always had liked the shadows.
Not that there were many of her kind left now. She was a Sheikah, perhaps one of the last. In the six years since Hyrule had flooded, she had not fully glimpsed another. But such was the way of that secretive race. The survivor of them could only hope they themselves had survived.
Sheik's eyes turned seaward as one hand idly pulled at a silver chain she wore around her neck. At the end of that chain, an angled piece of gold hung. It was shaped like an arrow, pointing upwards, and it glimmered dimly in the fading light. Her fingers traced its edges as she drifted in her contemplations, thinking as she often did of Hyrule, the Sleeping Land, and its fate those half-dozen years ago.
She could recall clearly her brief days as Queen, the departure of Link and the coming of Malon. Things got a little hazy around the time of that final battle, the last stand against the King of Evil. She remembered Malon, running past her as Sheik nocked an arrow, and she remembered Ganon, who had hit her only once with one of his spells. As much as it seemed like a dream, she had the scar on her stomach that dispelled her doubts.
And she remembered Dark Link.
In the end, when she'd been knocked to her knees from the spell that had hit, the last thing she could remember was Dark Link. His sword, the sword that held her soul, clashing against Ganondorf's as light, brilliant light, shone from the massive doorway behind her and cast her shadow to cover both duelists. Dark Link, whose crimson eyes met hers beneath the silver line of Ganon's sword.
She had awoken in a straw bed in a wagon, with no recollection of how she'd gotten there. The wagon belonged to a young couple who were Kakariko refugees. Although they fed her and treated her wound, they had no answers for her. Mayor Skulltula found her, but he had been similarly enlightening. He told her that she had been found in the night, injured and alone on the rain-slicked trail of the volcano. He had ordered her taken in, and was as eager for her story as she was for answers. In the end, it was a one-sided exchange, and her arrival was chalked up to an act of mercy from the Goddesses.
The refugees found their way out of Death Mountain, to find it was surrounded by a small island. They had also met a tribe of strange bird-creatures that called themselves the Rito. The Rito Tribe had helped the refugees, but ultimately the little island was too small for both groups of people. The arrival of a fearsome wind-spirit decided the dispute. With the mighty dragon Valoo on their side, the Rito posed a far greater challenge than the vulnerable people could match. So, with the help of the Gorons, the people built boats. Link decided his people would leave as well, forseeing trouble from the dragon if they stayed. He had offered Sheik a place among them, the chance to sail with the Gorons as they journeyed to join their brothers in Termina to spread the word of Hyrule's sad fate. And it was with a heavy heart that Sheik refused. She may not have been Queen, but something in her heart forbade her from abandoning her people.
In the six years since, they had found an island not far from the mountain they'd escaped, which since Valoo's coming had come to be called Dragon Roost. The island they'd found was small but verant, and they had built a town upon it. There were many who wanted to call it New Kakariko, but in the spirit of new starts, Mayor Skulltula had instead christened it Windfall.
Sheik had expected to be shunned, subtly ignored as Sheikah often were. A surprise greeted her in the form of Talon and Ingo. Mostly, it was Ingo. Talon was inconsolable from the loss of Malon, but Ingo recognized that work needed to be done. He offered her a place to stay, provided that she could "pull yer weight 'round here, missy. I ain't needin' no more layabouts lazin' around." She had agreed with a readiness that had surprised her, and though the work was not easy, she persisted. Between her efforts and Ingo's, they had started raising pigs. Not the most appealing work, but it occupied her.
Except on days like this. It was her day off, and a salty breeze blew through the square as evening claimed the little town. She had spent it spinning stories for the little ones, as she was wont to do. It was heartwarming, to spread the knowledge of their homeland, and yet at the same time it was heartbreaking. Especially when she told the last story of Hyrule, that of a flame-haired maid who took up a sword to do battle.
A flame-haired maid who through no fault of her own had been called upon to give her life for her country. Whose price for her people had been great and terrible. And yet, she had paid it, with no hesitation. She had saved her people, and had given a great sacrifice to do it.
A Queen's sacrifice, even.
Sheik closed her eyes, forcing down the bitter shame and disappointment that rose in her like bile. Tears threatened her as she thought again about how the Goddesses had even deemed the shadow's sacrifice as worthy. After all she had done, all she had given up, they had refused Sheik's own. She had given up her kingdom, her crown, her very identity, and they had refused to let her give her life for her people as well. The message was clear; Malon had been worthy, Dark Link had been worthy, and Zelda had not been worthy.
After everything, she had only ever been a pretender to the throne.
Sheik wiped a sleeve across her eyes, forcing those thoughts away. What would Malon say, she chided herself, if she knew you thought such things?
The masked woman thought instead of the sea, as she had been doing more and more often of late. She liked the little town, and there was a soothing simplicity in the life she now led. A peace had found her here that had eluded her in all her prior years. But something within her clenched at the thought of spending the rest of her days here. There was a restless spirit within her, a yearning to search for...something that was missing, something she could not identify. It tugged at her, and it seemed like more and more often her gaze was called to the sea.
The stars had come out, and Sheik reluctantly pulled her gaze away from the waves lapping hungrily at the shore. She knew she ought to be getting home, because Ingo would no doubt be waking her up at the crack of dawn. It was a good life here, if slightly boring.
There was hope here, and goodness in these simple people eking out a living.
But the ocean and the sky called to her, singing of adventures and answers and stories yet untold.
Perhaps, Sheik mused as her steps started on the path to Ingo's door, perhaps one of these days, I will set sail to go and see this world that Malon saved.
I hope you liked this story. Feel more than free to click that little blue link below to tell me what you thought of it. At some point in the nebulous future, I do plan to write a sequel, but I am kept pretty busy, so don't hold your breath. Read, review, repeat as desired. :-)
-Lady DM
