A Note To New Readers:

Hey there! This story is currently undergoing some maintenance at the moment, and as such, what you have read up until this point may clash, be out of place or jump ahead/behind the chapters that follow. Please know that I am writing as fast as I can to rerelease these new chapters and believe me when I say that the story will be more concise and flow better, (not to mention be much more interesting from the get go). Please bear with me and enjoy nonetheless!

-Jack Knights

Link poked a head out the door of the room that had been his prison for the last week, wary of anyone who might notice him slip outside. His feet slapped noisily against the tiled floor and he shivered as his toes grew cold. Shouldn't they turn up the heat? He rubbed his arms, hearing his heartbeat in his ears. He began panting, as if he couldn't get enough air and his head swam.

What the hell? Why do I feel so sick all of a sudden?

Link leaned against the wall, waiting for the sensations to pass. Instead, they worsened; his eyes ached and his hands shook. He blinked as his vision became bleary, cursing around his suddenly heavy tongue.

What have they done to me? he groaned inwardly as his stomach lurched.

Despite the blood roaring in his ears, now accompanied by a persistent ringing, his keen ears picked up on distant footfalls. He squinted around the corner, noticing a group of people chatting animatedly as they neared him. Searching the hall for somewhere to hide, Link spotted a door and lunged for it, twisting the knob and falling inside as they rounded the corner. He barely managed to shove it closed with his foot in time. Grunting, he rolled onto his back and tried to see through the darkness of the room.

"Oh, there you are," a mildly surprised voice said behind him. Link bent his head back, noticing that he wasn't alone in the room after all. Just behind him was a small wood desk upon which sat a man with long black hair that hung in his face. "That saves me the trouble of having to get up and bring you here."

Link tried to ask him what he meant, but his befuddled mind only managed an unintelligent grunt. What in Din's name is going on?

"Ah, yes, well, that would be the tracking venom talking," the man muttered, sliding off the desk to his feet, which were bare. He approached Link and, grabbing him under the arms, pulled him up effortlessly. He mumbled something about dead weight as he plonked the Hylian into a chair, then went to a cupboard next to the door. After riffling through it for a moment, he turned, a syringe and flask full of glimmering yellow liquid in hand.

"I'm going to inject you with the anti-venom," he informed Link without looking at him. He filled the syringe, tapped it to get out the air bubbles and looked down at the Hylian with an apologetic smile. "This is going to hurt, so don't squirm too much. I'd hate for the needle to break off in you."

As if I could even put up a fight, Link thought as his limbs grew heavy. Expecting the man to poke him in the arm, he tried to lift it up, but the raven-haired man pushed it back down before ripping open the Hylian's shirt. He felt his side, his thin fingers running up and down Link's ribs before tracing one to the center of his chest. With sudden clarity, Link understood what he intended to do and tried to fight back to no avail.

"I told you, don't move," he said through clenched teeth before pressing the needle to Link's chest, pushing it in until the glass vial touched his feverish skin. Link could've sworn that the syringe had penetrated his heart and an instant later a growing pain spread through his chest. His eyes widened in pain before clenching them tight. He felt the needle withdraw from his ribcage and he double over, clutching his middle as the pain spread to his stomach.

This is worse than before! he screamed in his mind, fighting the convulsions that threatened to overtake him. He fell forward, hitting the ground hard as he curled further into himself. Just as the pain began to die away, unconsciousness swept over him and Link could've sworn the man had looked surprised at the turn of events.

"Damn him…" Dagg cursed the King the next morning as he stood in front of the mirror. He gingerly touched a hand to the finger shaped bruises around his next and winced in pain despite his gentleness. It hurt to breathe, his throat was sore and the pounding headache riddling his mind wasn't helping any. He shook his head—a bad idea considering his bruised brain—and put on a shirt over the plain black velvet pants he currently wore.

Extravagant as the people in Ganondorf's court, the dark red billowy shirt was decorated with gold trimmings in elaborate designs and the neckline was studded with lace. The heavy brass buttons—twenty of them in total, two rows of ten going down his neck to his waistline—did nothing but be unspeakably extravagant. The boots he'd been left by the maids were equally gaudy; made of soft leather hide, they came up to his knees and were slightly rumpled, as was the current style.

Why did they have to take away my clothes? he groaned, despondent at how he looked. These garments aren't practical in the slightest.

He put on his glasses, surprised to find that the one lens was cracked. He took them off with a frown, his vision blurry without them. He happened to glance down at the dresser and noticed a small rectangular wood box with a snap on it. When did this get here? he wondered, opening the case. Inside, snuggled comfortably within chiffon, was a pair of glasses. They were simply made; long black ebony legs extended from rimless lenses. Dubious, he tried them on, amazed when his eyes adjusted perfectly and he was able to see clearly again. How did he know?

Suddenly displeased, he frowned again, growing wary of the sudden influx of gifts he'd received. Something is not quite right, he noted as he made his way to the door. Next to it, on a coat rack that hadn't been there before, was a black cape, embossed with the King's seal on its back. His frown grew as he stared at thing in disgust. Fingering the heavy material he sighed, placing it upon his shoulders and tying it below his collar. He wants me to play his game? Fine. He wants me to be a good little puppet? I'll do just that. I'll obey and bow and be polite. But the minute I his guard is down, I'm getting out of here with Claire and her brother.

The jar from crashing into the ground was enough to wake his brain up enough to move. Sheik groaned, coughed and instantly regretted doing so. The pain in his back was immense and he had to grind his teeth to cry out in pain. He felt a trickle of blood run down his chin, but he ignored it, pushing himself to his feet.

Dammit… they've got some… sharp shooters, he thought idly as he huffed with the effort it took to move. My left side's gone numb… was that bolt poisoned? Shit…

Because of the bolt in his back, he couldn't stand up properly. Shouts, sounding as if he was underwater, broke through his dazed mind and he began to stumble his way away from them. His feet caught on an upturned root and he fell to the ground.

Got to… make it out of this one, he gritted as a wave of pain washed over him. Dagg's gonna kill me if I don't die first.

There, on the edge of his vision, was a light. The shadow accompanying it was small as well, a hunched over figure making its way over to him. Goddesses dammit… I'm trapped, he thought bitterly. Maybe… he tried to think. Magic… come to me.

It came sluggishly, hindered by the poison slowly coursing through his system. But when it did, it pooled in his mind, infusing him, however briefly, with limitless power. Transform… he commanded, blacking out again.

Well shit, Jaz fumed, her chin in her hands, I think I pissed him off. She'd just managed to fall asleep after opening the door to let out the stale air when someone had barged into the caravan and scared her half to death. Her reflexes proved true and fast; she'd grabbed the closest thing to her, a spear, she thought, and thrust it at the intruder. It wasn't until he'd grabbed the spear and yanked her out into the night that she'd discovered it had been Sid, the Knight. Then he'd grabbed her and flung her over his shoulder, like some sort of a troll. She was not one to take such treatment lightly and had fought back with all she had. Then he'd up and dropped her on the dirt like a discarded piece of meat, but not before telling her off.

She rolled her eyes at the situation. What an ass-hat, she insulted acidly. Just who the hell does he think he is?

Reaching her boiling point, Jaz got to her feet. She dusted off her pants and rolled up her sleeves. Ooh… I'm going to tell him where he can shove his chivalry,she mocked, stalking off after him. She followed the path as best she could, certain that he'd been the one who'd made the heavy, clear boot-prints in the dust. Breaking through the last of the trees in the little glen they'd been occupying, Jaz spotted his form, sitting at the top of the hill.

There he is, the little bastard, she leered, stomping off after him. It was until she was a few feet away that she noticed something odd about him. Jaz stopped in her tracks, studying his back. Sid was indeed sitting at the top of the hill, but he was hunched over, his head in his hands. Every so often his shoulders shook and he breathed heavily.

Is he… crying? she thought, guilt washing over her. Goddesses dammit… I can't yell at someone who's crying, no matter how much they deserve to be told off.

She slowly approached him, weary of the knight. "Hey…" she called when she stood next to him. His head jerked up and he glared at her. Apparently he hadn't been crying, but he was upset, not angry.

"What?" he said hotly. Jaz lifted an eyebrow at him and he cringed, surprising her. He's beating himself up over what happened? she realized. How weird…

"Sorry," he muttered, sounding tired and years younger. "I should not have snapped at you like that, milady."

"It's alright," Jaz said, sitting down cross-legged next to him. "We got caught up in the heat of the moment. And I'm no lady."

"You won't give me your name, so what else should I call you by?" he said, a bit of his ever-present jovialness returning. "I doubt you would take kindly to being called 'wench.'"

She laughed despite herself. "No I wouldn't. My name's Jaz," she added, offering him her hand. He surprised her then by taking it in his own, not to shake it, but to touch his lips to her fingers. Not accustomed to such treatment, Jaz pulled her hand free and blushed. Now it was his turn to laugh.

"You are… strange, Lady Jaz," he chuckled. "I do not know how to act around you. You blush deeply at being treated like the woman you are, but then you speak words so fiery that a Dodongo would be burnt to a cinder at any mistreatment."

Jaz rolled her eyes, tucking a lock of hair behind her curved ear. "I told you, I am not a lady. So don't treat me like royalty."

"Then how shall I treat you?" he asked, curious as to her answer. "Shall I pretend as though you are a fellow warrior?"

"No," she firmly established. "Treat me like you would any other man; with respect and honesty."

"Very well, Lady—I mean, Jaz," he corrected himself. She smiled slightly at him, patting his knee.

"There's no need to be so formal either. You'll drop dead of a heart attack if you act so prim and proper," she chided. He laughed heartily, falling back to roll in the grass as if it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. Annoyed, she frowned at him and he gazed up at her.

"Don't frown, you'll get all wrinkled like a prune," he countered. She only frowned further, causing his grin to spread further. "At least then your outside you match your inside."

"That's not very nice!" Jaz exclaimed, but she wasn't angry with him. "How would your commander react if he knew how you joke so easily?"

"Not well," he admitted, growing sombre. "He'd probably remain quiet, he wouldn't even admit his disappointment in my slip of character. Not this time, nor the one back then. But the disappointment in his eyes… that would be punishment enough."

"Then leave," she said simply. Sid looked at her like she had suddenly sprouted two heads. "I mean… if you have to pretend to be someone else when you're around these stuffed shirts, then why bother? It's not healthy."

"I know I should be more at ease, more comfortable with them, not just with Commander Varne," he muttered, looking through the trees at the flickering firelight. "But I can't. It's to be expected of a Knight of Hyrule. We must be chivalrous, even if the enemy is not. We must uphold the honour of the kingdom, spread the truth of her race and dispense justice to all that oppose those ideals."

"Is that why you joined? Because of the injustice you suffered?" she murmured, glancing at his pointed ears.

"Yes… and no," he explained. "When I was very young, my father was taken by the Bulbins. My mother, a human, vouched for me, claiming I was human. My ears only became pointed later in life. Before my father was executed, he would tell me tales of the Hyrule past. How it was upheld by values, not a King's evil desires. He was a member of the Knights of Hyrule. I swore to myself that night that I would take up his mantle and take my revenge. And then, when I was ten-and-three years young, Commander Varne, then just a soldier, was wounded in a skirmish and took leave to recuperate in Ordon, where he believed that his retired comrade still resided. Still lived.

"He'd never looked so taken aback when I answered his knock. And he was never as crushed by my mother's words when she told him of my father's fate. He held my mother, shed tears with her when they thought I was sleeping in the room over. I watched them from the shadows, saw them grieve. And I grieved as well. When my mother told me he was a friend of my father's and was going to be staying with us, I jumped at the opportunity to ask him everything I could about him. And even though it pained him so, he told me of my father, of the battles they fought, of the people they saved and the monsters they'd slain together. After a few weeks he left again, only to return a month later, a commander. He'd come by every so often and he slowly became the father I never had. He taught me everything; manners and politics, fighting and strategy, dancing and joke telling. He taught me the difference between telling a lie and not telling the whole truth.

"And when it came time for him to leave, and I was just shy of my seventeenth birthday, I begged him to take me with him. I begged him for a chance … a chance at revenge, at redemption. And later, it became a chance to prove my honour and worth as a Hylian. And, despite my mother's protest, despite my mixed blood that would surely cause his reputation damage, he took me with him. And so, I began my quest to prove, not just to myself, or to my deceased father, but the Commander as well, that I was capable, hardworking and honest. Even though I was not a full blooded Hylian, I fought tooth and nail to prove them all wrong, and to show him he was right in choosing me as his apprentice."

"He means a lot to you," Jaz stated some time later, and he nodded, a light smile on his face as he relived happier memories. They were brought out of their reverie as the sound of armour clanging reached their ears. As one, they turned to face the approaching figure of a knight. Sid hastily got to his feet, saluting the officer as he strode up to them. The Hylian, a man with a scarred eye and pursed lips, pursed them further in distaste as he neared the two of them.

"Officer Sid," he stated his rank as if it was an insult. "Good to know you were keeping an eye out for possible enemy attack."

"General Alan, is it time for your shift already?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and official.

"Obviously you had better things to keep you occupied," he muttered as he eyed Jaz, not with the same condescending look he gaze Sid, but one of appraisal. She shivered under his gaze, growing uncomfortable. "You may take your leave now."

Sid saluted once more, bowing before his ranking officer before trudging down the hill. Jaz made to follow him, but Borvo grabbed her hand, forcing her to face him. An oath on her lips, she met that same unnerving gaze again and shivered once more.

"If you are cold, my dear, I am sure that you will find my company much warmer than the half-breed's," he said plainly. He obviously offered her more than just his company and she recoiled away from his touch.

"I thank you for your offer," she said, her voice clipped, "but I think the fire is more that comforting enough, given present company."

He narrowed his eyes at her in contempt, releasing her from his grasp. She turn her heel to him and walked as calmly down back to the caravan as possible, feeling the repulsive man's gaze lingering on her yet.