A bit of a warning in advance -
This takes place after the events of theme 27, "Lost and Found".
If you haven't read that one yet, this might be a little confusing at times.
:: | Theme thirty-eight,
:: | Burning
: Rated T :
At the edge of a dark forest, she stands gazing out upon the moonlit world, shrouded by night. Hyrule Castle Town rests at the crest of a hill, all wide cobblestone streets and tall, quaint wooden buildings painted white.
She draws the sword at her back, beautiful blade tinged blue, seeming to hum with life and energy of its own. She holds the sword in both hands - hands that should be porcelain and untainted, not calloused and bloodstained - and with blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and falling to curtain her face, she shuts her eyes and prays aloud.
"Farore, I beg for your guidance in this overwhelming task you have given me, for I cannot complete it alone."
For a moment all is silent. Not even insects dare to chirp nor the breeze to dance. Then she takes a deep breath, sheathes the sword at her back, ties her freshly-washed hair up with a plain gray ribbon, and sets off towards Castle Town.
The town is not as she remembers it, streets lively even in the dead of night and lights constantly burning inside the windows. Now it feels desolate, not a sound to be heard, and darkness reigns supreme.
But perhaps it all works to her advantage.
She sweeps through the streets, naught more than a phantom in the night, a passing dream soon forgotten upon waking to the sun's rays illuminating the world in golden light. She passes through the darkest of the shadows, her long, flowing black cloak seeming to dissolve her very being, turning her into nothing more than a part of the night itself.
Memories taunt her, swirl through her head, threatening to distract her from her goal.
The man clasped a gloved hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming in fear, telling her they needed to flee, that something was very wrong...
She stops for a moment, shaking her head, refusing to continue on until she is unburdened by her own thoughts. She cannot allow herself to be distracted.
An arrow pierced his chest, and he fell to the ground with hardly a sound of protest. The only thing she could do - she, the pathetic, helpless, useless child - was run for her life. Abandon everything she knew and loved.
"No, stop," she hisses aloud, unaware that the words had even left her lips at all.
Suddenly he was there, standing over her, his smile as icy as his eyes, his laugh dark, his touch cruel -
"No," she whispers desperately, blue eyes wide with fear. She grips her head with both hands, taking deep, ragged breaths. "No." His manic laugh echoes through her mind, and it's more than just a simple memory, she can hear him, see him standing in front of her with the Master Sword pierced through his body, blood trickling from his lips -
"No," she repeats again. And this time the memories leave her. She stands straight once more, not even realizing she had begun to slouch, and silently thanks Farore for her help. Once more she takes a deep, shuddering breath, then presses onward.
It's pathetic how easy it is to approach the castle walls, even though they are guarded. And it's even more pathetic how easy it is to slip inside the castle itself. Having lived there for the first ten years of her life, she remembers a secret passageway that leads all the way from the walls into the throne room of the castle.
Hidden by her dark cloak, she slips unnoticed to a tree somewhat nearby the castle walls, and she kneels down, brushing away leaves and dirt to reveal a small trapdoor partially obscured by a thick root. Casting a quick glance at her surroundings to make sure she is still unnoticed, she opens the trapdoor and slips inside, closing it behind her.
Darkness is all that greets her, but she needs no light to illuminate her path. Though it has been five years since last she's seen this place, she still remembers as if it were yesterday.
Her feet are nearly silent as she strides through the dark earthen hallway, droplets of water occasionally falling from the dirt ceiling only to seep into the hood of her cloak. Slowly her eyes begin to adjust to the blackness, until she can see the vague outline of a rickety wooden door standing before her, and she opens it.
There are four different passageways beyond the door. Three lead to dead ends, but she knows which one will guide her way into the castle. She chooses the passage on the far right and continues as it slopes upward, feet padding quietly against the packed dirt of the narrow hallway before her.
Soon she reaches another door, this one tiny and only large enough to crawl through. Heart hammering wildly against her ribcage, she pries open the tiny door, and squints against the thin sliver of light streaming in through the crack in the tile above her.
She carefully peeks through the small crack, scanning her surroundings as best as she can, and finds nothing waiting for her in the hallway beyond. Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she pushes the tile away and emerges from the floor into a long, regal hallway.
She is surprised to find that it has been surprisingly well-kept; the tapestries still hang on the wall, clean and colorful as always. The tile looks as if it has been recently polished, and the suits of armor lining the hall are all standing upright and in good repair.
It's just as I remember it, she thinks to herself with tears filling her eyes as she gently brushes her fingers across the surface of what once had been her favorite tapestry. It depicts a noble hero standing in a field of green, with the three Golden Goddesses granting him the Triforce of Courage.
But now it only brings back horrible memories. That noble figure in the tapestry is not the man she had once known. It is only a glorified depiction of what Hyrule's people wish him to be.
In reality, he had been cruel, perhaps even evil, and it had been his blood that the Master Sword had first tasted upon awakening from its pedestal.
Blue eyes darkening, she turns away from the colorful tapestry and strides across the tile floor, soft leather shoes preventing any sound save for the gentle swishing of her cloak.
It is strange, she thinks as she stops before the great oak double-doors that lead into the throne room, that nobody is here to guard it. Is he perhaps not here?
If he isn't, I'll tear this castle apart looking for him.
Throwing back the hood of her cloak to reveal her face and proudly raising her chin, she reaches forward and pushes open the doors.
The throne room is extravagant, rugs decorating the floor and countless tapestries covering the walls, and the beautiful wooden throne right in the center of it all. There, standing off to the side of the throne room, peering out a wide, floor-to-ceiling window, is a man. His fiery red hair and dark skin is familiar.
Upon hearing the doors groan and scrape against the polished marble floor, he turns. And for the first time in her life, she meets his burning golden eyes, and hatred flares within her like a fierce flame.
"Ah, there you are," he speaks in his deep voice, and once more she is reminded of a snarling wolf. Memories nearly overwhelm her; memories of this man in her parents' bedchambers, threatening to usurp the throne of Hyrule...
"Were you expecting me?" she asks, eyes cold and jaw set firm.
"In a way," the man replies, lacing his fingers behind his back. "But not so soon. I knew you were alive, and I knew you would return someday... but it's a surprise to see you here already."
"What are you doing here?" she demands.
"What am I doing in my own castle? Just enjoying the view of my kingdom before I head off to sleep. I sent the guards away because I wasn't expecting anyone. The wrong choice, I suppose." He scoffs.
Her eyes narrow, and her hands tremble with rage. She clenches them into fists and hides them under her cloak in an attempt to disguise the fact. "Your castle? Your castle? This castle which you have no right to stand in? This castle that belongs to me and my family?"
He sighs deeply. "I understand your anger." When she curls her lip in contempt, he only frowns. "I really do. My people suffered death and heartache in their desert home for hundreds upon hundreds of years, and I only meant to change that."
"By taking what was not yours and destroying the lives of many for your own selfish ends?"
"It was necessary."
Her eyes widen in rage. "Where are my parents?"
The man averts his golden eyes, once more staring out the window. "They would not cooperate. I did what had to be done."
At his words her heart stops, and she stares at him in disbelief. A part of her had always known. She had expected this for years. But another part of her - the foolish, irrational part - hoped for the better.
Now that hope is destroyed.
"You killed them?"
He does not respond.
The flame within her bursts into a wildfire, spreading far and wide, consuming all in its path, and she cannot control it. Baring her teeth in rage, she throws aside her dark cloak, and it flutters slowly to the ground, revealing her thin but wiry form, toned by the years she spent with that monster - and now here she is facing yet another one.
The world is cruel, she thinks. And maybe - just maybe - that awful man with the icy smile was right about everything.
The man before her turns his eyes to her once again, and for a moment he pauses, can only stare in shock as he studies her. "It cannot be."
She realizes why he is taken aback. The Master Sword.
"Only the hero is allowed to wield that blade..." Realization dawns on his face, and he grins. "I see. What an interesting turn of events! I could not have expected something like this... Do you perhaps know what happened to the hero?"
"He was found unworthy, and the very blade he was meant to wield is what stole his life," she explains simply, and draws the sword with jaw clenched.
"Hmm, that's too bad," he replies, lightly shaking his head. "I had intended to keep you alive, perhaps as something of a pet, a reminder of what once was. But it seems I'll have to kill you." He draws a long, broad sword that hangs at his hip, and meets her eyes.
For a moment her confidence wavers. Her skill with the bow had been somewhat lacking, but her skill with the sword even more so. And she does not know if she can fight him.
But there's no time to think, hardly even time to breathe, he's rushing at her -
Swords clash, the sound of steel against steel ringing through the throne room. She isn't even aware of her movements, can't even predict them as blades flash in the light of the torches lining the walls.
He thrusts; she deflects. She slices down towards his head; he parries. A diagonal cut forces her to dance backward, and he advances on her, sword held to defend his chest. She cuts at his legs, but he easily blocks the blow, and their swords crash together with a slither of steel. For a moment their blades are locked together, and it's a battle of pure strength. He's tall, muscular, intimidating, golden eyes glinting with delight at the thought of piercing his sword through her heart. She's short, thin, not nearly as strong as him, and she can feel herself slipping, sweat rolling down her face, gritting her teeth -
And then he shoves her backward, and she stumbles, tripping over her own two feet and giving a shout of fear as he advances on her. She can't even regain her balance, and she knows the battle is lost when she tips backward and her feet are suddenly in the air. She lands ungracefully on her back with a cry. And then suddenly he's holding the hilt of his sword in both hands, and the blade is plunging toward her chest.
She frantically rolls out of the way, and his sword barely misses her, crashing against the marble floor with a resounding clang. Panting, chest heaving with panic, she stumbles to her feet again, ignoring her racing heart as she wipes sweat from her brow.
I cannot win, she thinks to herself when his enraged golden eyes meet her frantic blue ones, and he bares his teeth. He hasn't even broken a sweat.
He takes a step toward her, and she turns and runs to the other side of the room, panting. She draws a torch from its place on the wall and holds it out to him, and he hesitates when he sees it. "What are you planning?"
"What did you do to my people?" she demands. "My parents are gone, my kingdom ruled by a tyrant... what about my people? Did you destroy them as well?"
He watches her with narrowed eyes. "They were uncooperative, just like your parents. And I needed a place for my people to stay, so I -"
Eyes wide with rage, she mindlessly swings the sword and torch at him. "How dare you!" she snarls, tears welling up in her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. She will not give him that satisfaction. "I'll kill you!" And she can almost feel her heart turning to ice; nothing matters anymore. Everything she had once known and loved is gone, and there is no reason to live any longer. And she hates everything, especially him, because he's the demon that did this to her.
He cocks a brow, and his expression is so confident and arrogant that her hatred overwhelms her, consuming her, body and mind, and in that moment the only thing that matters to her is avenging her parents and her people. "Just try," he says with a grin, holding up his sword once more in a defensive position.
She stares at him, heart hammering wildly, chest heaving with frantic breaths. Her eyes are wide and perhaps a little manic. And with only a moment of hesitation, she tosses the torch onto the floor.
It rolls over and comes to a stop atop one of the thick rugs adorning the floor, and immediately it catches fire.
He looks over to the fresh flame with horrified eyes, and his jaw drops. "What -" But he can't say anything else. Instead he rushes over to the torch and attempts to stomp out the flames. But his attempts are in vain, and when he isn't looking, she grasps the next torch hanging on the wall and uses it to catch the nearest tapestry on fire.
"Fool, what are you doing?" he yells at her, whirling to face her with teeth gritted. He looks as if he is about to say something else, but decides against it, instead opting to rush for the doors that lead away from the throne room.
But she sprints toward him and skids to a stop in front of him, lashing out with her blade almost before he can react. He only barely manages to parry her blow, stumbling slightly backward in the wake of her fierce attack. And before he can recover, she kicks his legs out from underneath him, and he falls to the floor with a cry of protest.
The hungry fire has already spread, having devoured the rug in its path. It licks hungrily at the air, searching for food, and it finds it in the form of his clothes.
Immediately he catches fire, and the flames spread across his body. He screams in panic, and rolls, flailing, across the floor, trying desperately to quench the hungry flames. But he only rolls right into the fire itself, and it surrounds him, cackling at him, devouring him as he wails in agony.
She only watches him, blue eyes cold and unforgiving, until his cries silence and he is naught more than an indistinct black shape within the flames.
Sweat rolls down her face, drenches her hair, wets her hands and makes the blade of the Master Sword slick. Heart still hammering against her ribcage, she drops the sacred blade, and it falls to the marble floor with a clatter.
Silent as a phantom she strides to the center of the throne room, heedless of the heat, of the fire that is now a blazing inferno, roaring like an angry demon.
"One day you'll sit on this throne," her mother said, "and you will rule as a just queen."
The wooden throne has already caught fire, but she doesn't care. She sits upon it, leans back, places her arms on the armrests and only stares out at the hungry flames. She can feel them licking at her, feel the consuming heat, but she allows it to envelop her. Her cold eyes are a stark contrast to the orange of the fire, and she doesn't even realize how similar she is to him...
She releases an exhausted sigh, and thinks of how ironic it is, that the hero had despised the Goddesses and she had hated him for it, when all along he was right, the Goddesses are cruel beasts and care nothing for their people - and how she's finally sitting upon the very seat that her mother had said she would, but only when her people are destroyed and her castle is in flames -
And she almost laughs. Almost. The only thing she does is smile, smile for the first time in so many years.
Princess Zelda sits upon the throne of Hyrule, eyes as icy as her heart watching the flames destroy everything she had ever once loved. And she leans back, heaving a sigh of exhaustion, and closes her eyes, allowing the fire to consume her too.
A/N: I don't think Lost and Found really needed a sequel, but I recently got to thinking about how messed up Zelda would be after everything she's been through, and especially after hanging out with Link for so long. And I just could not resist writing this.
I'm sorry that the majority of these themes are angst xD I'll try to write something lighthearted soon, I promise.