Thanks to Genndy Oda C.O.G for the follow, and let's get this started, shall we? To clarify, no, Ravio's not okay. Not really. And Hilda isn't either. Things are starting to fall into place, and well, for all that Yuga's just a background presence, he's meant to be. The ambiguity of 'is it? is it not?' is deliberate. After all, in the ending of ALBW he's poofed. He just vanishes. And while it's implied he's dead, that's no fun. The 'what ifs' are.


Ravio was bleary-eyed as he sat at the table in the library, and Zelda smiled quietly to herself. She knew why, but she wasn't going to say anything. Of course not. One only had to look at Hilda to see that court had been exhausting; and Ravio to see that discussing it wasn't a good idea. It hadn't been a good day for the pair, and she wasn't going to press them. Not with the way the Advisor was scowling at his work.

Though that may have just been the way his Queen's humming made the pieces of the recorder shiver. Yes, shiver. Zelda didn't know the why, but she wanted to find out. Hilda was reading, but that clearly wasn't the only thing on her mind, and it irked the poor fellow. Made it hard for him to work. In more ways than one. Though she supposed the quiet snickering from his dead family members didn't help.

They truly were related, and she couldn't fault the man for his chagrin. For all that there were centuries between him and the Lorean Shades, the blood they shared was obvious in more than the resemblance. It was their nature, as well, and that nature plainly bothered him. The twitch of an eyebrow there, a wink, a smirk and a muffled snort of laughter – she was grateful only the Hylian siblings were like that.

A low growl escaped Ravio. "You lot are lucky I have my hands full with this, and that you're dead. Otherwise I swear I'd throw a vase at your heads. Maybe two. And you'd bet good rupees that it'd hurt. If you're itching to cause mischief, I'm positive there's a spare room or three in the guest wing that's soundproofed and spare. Go wreak havoc behind closed doors. Just don't break any bedframes."

Embarrassment, she noticed with amusement, was something painfully telling in the men of the Narbitt family. Fire mages especially. Poor Vion. Poor, poor Vion – how he managed to survive Lana, she didn't know. Just, she imagined. Just. Lana was a whirlwind given form, and his parents weren't the only ones laughing about it. Hilda was too. It grew in volume, melodic; musical. Carefree. Truly that way. Hmm~

"Hilda," Ravio chided, sighing, "It's not funny. Stop snickering about it. And please, for goodness' sake, stop humming. It's distracting – and not at all helpful when I'm trying to work on something that was crafted musically. Not in the slightest. You should know that. There's plenty of other things to do. Reading material galore, and all of it interesting. Many of it written on magic, true, but not all of it."

She smirked, noticing the gleam in her counterpart's eyes. Oh dear. Oh dear. He really shouldn't have done that. He'd inadvertently given her an idea, and judging by the expression on her face, it wouldn't be something she'd want to miss. Gesturing for Seres to join her, Zelda chuckled as the remaining female Shades joined them and rolled her eyes. Ravio would regret this. How much, though –

That would remain to be seen. Judging by Lady Lorealu's reaction, however, and Agatha's, the answer was a lot. A lot more than he probably realised. Then again, she supposed that wasn't wholly true. Ravio Narbitt was full of surprises. Just as much as his queen. What was with it Lorulean royalty and plotting? She didn't understand it. They had so many sharp edges that you were lucky to avoid serious injury.

Mainly to your heart. So, how deep a hole has the poor kid dug for himself? Agatha demanded, lips twitching. Enough to break an ankle? Or deep enough to give himself a heart attack from the fall? Don't tell me he hasn't, because I'm no fool, little queen. He has, and he's going to have serious regrets. You start riots all too easily, and your poor Advisor – you play him like a harp when you put your mind to it.

Hilda snorted. "What can I say?" she quipped, flipping through a tailor's catalogue, "I'm a musician. It's kind of what I do best. And it's not like he tries to fight it, either. …But no, no riots. Fashion trends, on the other hand - well, you try dealing with my wardrobe year-round. These skirts are heavy; and they make moving around so damn hard. I can hardly breathe. Give me something practical. This is Lorule."

Lady Hyrela hummed in agreement, eyeing Hilda's gown in distaste. Not out of disgust, Zelda noticed, but in an assessment. Fine fabrics or not, she knew herself that such dresses were heavy. She could understand wanting something more practical. For Hilda, however, it was more of a necessity; that's why she wasn't surprised when the Lorulean Queen stopped on a dress that would make her life easier.

And her Advisor's torture. It helped that the design was adaptable, but she was eager to see what it looked like as more than a sketch. It was off-the-shoulder and looked quite comfortable – the skirt was split into three large panels, two of which were sewn together to form the main body. The third panel, though, wasn't sewn to either of them; just the bodice. It didn't seem like the 'traditional' design.

Good choice, her namesake commended, approval resonant. I've made a few of those for Hilda, and I can tell you have a good eye, little queen. It was originally designed as a travel dress, I think, meant for riding. You're supposed to wear pants or stockings under it. There's not much of a petticoat, either, and a corset was always optional. You could make it as elaborate or as plain as you want. Doesn't matter.

Women in pants, shocking, I know, but it means you never have to look at a side-saddle again, Lady Lorealu encouraged, winking. Besides, it's not that outlandish. The female knights of Skyloft wore pants – everyone had to. It lessened the air resistance. Less fabric pinning you to bird back. But as a bonus, I know that the design is one of many that makes for a good wedding gown in the right conditions.

There was a dull thump in the background – likely Ravio's head connecting with the surface of the table – and twin groans of annoyance. From Aviol and Ravio, respectively, she didn't doubt. Only a Hilda could draw that kind of irritation from a Narbitt, it seemed. Though Lana appeared to be an exception, her brand of humour matched Vion's. It drove him crazy. Still, it didn't stop her counterpart from blushing.

Aviol's next comment didn't help. Hilda, leave the girl alone, he scolded, grumbling. She's Queen, for Goddess' sake. She's under enough pressure as it is. She doesn't need the rest of the family teasing her; the castle staff do that for us. That's not including the stupid bets Ophelia and Lorelai have going on involving their children. You know as well as I do what they're like. Don't make it worse, please. Don't.

Bets? Oh no. Zelda bit back a snort, aware of the shame that coloured her fellow Queen's cheeks. Gently reaching over to pull the book closer, she slid a length of ribbon into place and shut it. There. It was marked. They could move on from embarrassing topics like wedding dresses, engagement jewellery and proposals. And bets your dead relatives shouldn't be holding over you but did anyway. She sighed.

"Moving on…" she prodded, smiling, "Minor details aside, are you wanting to actually have the design looked at by a professional? You are Queen, and if you really want it, well, no-one's going to refuse the pay. Sure, not everyone's going to like you; the way you rule, but that's life. It happens to everyone. One way or another. It wouldn't be an honest society if everyone agreed with each other, now would it?"

A chuckle. "No, it wouldn't," Hilda admitted, shaking her head. "It wouldn't. It's not fair to foster such a workload on one person, either. More hands make lighter work, after all. …Why not? It could prove interesting. And not just for me. It's not the same without someone to pester. Nowhere near as much fun. Something I always need. Being royalty is a birthright. You can't escape it. Or the paperwork."

"Doesn't stop you from trying though," Amusement laced Ravio's voice. "Nor does it stop the paperwork sitting on the desk in your office from piling up. Don't come crying to me when you get snowed under – it's not my job. I just sort through it all. I can't sign it, Hilda, and you know why. I'm not royalty. Those are the rules: the reigning monarch must sign – and read – all the paperwork. It's a safety measure."

And you can never have enough of those, Lincoln muttered, sighing. You can have an entire novel's worth of contingency plans, and still have them all fail. Still have it looping over and over, without end. I'm tired of being dragged through the mud. Even my sister can fight better than I can. She can fight my father to a standstill; I barely stay on my feet. It's embarrassing. More so than being caught off guard.

Agatha stood, face blank, and walked over to the Hylian Shade. Zelda exhaled, bracing herself, but she still flinched as the Lorean Queen slapped him. Shock crossed his face, a hand reaching up to touch the red mark on his cheek, but she wasn't done. Fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic and pulled him in, Narbitt green eyes pinning him in place better than any set of throwing knives. Better than a dagger.

Stop it, she snarled, scowling. The pity party you're holding for yourself, Lincoln? You're the only one there. Yes, you're dead. So I am. Our parents; our siblings? So are they. You're not the warrior Lana is. Nor are you your father. You're not your grandfather. Either of them. You're more like your great-grandfather, and there's no shame in that. Not with all your mother's stories there's not. No way.

Easy for you to say, he snapped. You didn't have to live in their shadows. So thick and heavy you could hardly breathe. Especially my grandfathers'. They were the heaviest of all. Crushing. Crippling. Sometimes I just want to do something crazy. Like, I don't know, drag them back from death. It's stupid, and dangerous, but maybe they could offer me some advice. Advice I need. Please, Agatha. Don't -

A book thudded to the floor. It was a thunderclap of noise, the expression on Irene's face as equally as stormy. "I don't think so, princeling. Black magic is illegal. Necromancy and mind manipulation spells more than any other kind. Above curses and anything else I'd care to name. Take your lovers' quarrel somewhere else. Somewhere that's not here. A closet, maybe. I don't care. I've had enough of it all."

Enough of it all? Lincoln repeated, disbelieving. Disgusted. What would you know about that? You're just a teenager. What would you know about being pushed to your limits? Saying you've had enough just seems like an excuse to me. It's not like you've seen anything that'd scar you with the kind of nightmares that keep you awake half the night or more. Who'd put a teenager in that position? I don't understand.

"And you say you don't understand," she replied, "Of course you wouldn't. You were caught in between. After something happened. You weren't stuck in the middle. Weren't called to do something you didn't even understand. Weren't just a child, somewhere between the ages of seven and ten – ten and a half, actually – when it happened. Weren't bait. A ploy; a stepping stone in a grand plan doomed to fail."

"Besides," Ravio interrupted smoothly, pulling Aviol's recorder from his belt, "Who's to say your grandfather was perfect? I'm pretty sure he didn't think that of himself. I can't say for certain, as I didn't know him, but Aviol did. It's amazing what you can find on a night when you can't sleep. And from the conversation, he can't have been much older than Irene when destiny dragged him down to earth."

He had their attention now, and Lady Hyrela was like stone at the mention of her father, Skyloft's Commander. Never mentioned by name, but Ucheriah had vast respect for the man; his teacher. Even his wife, Lady Hyrela's mother, was rarely spoken of. Zelda was an old, old name, and though there was the weird relationship the Shade had with Link, she knew better than to ask. Answers weren't available.

'Footsteps. The crackle of branches and plant life underfoot. And the sound of someone humming. Soft, but cheerful, and Aviol growled in annoyance, drumming his fingers against the crystalline surface of his recorder. The melody waned with a chuckle, but his companion didn't say anything. Rustling close by, and though he reached for his sword, fingers around the hilt – His companion was faster. Much faster.

A ball of compact soil collided with metal and ricocheted back into the creature. A dying squeal, then silence. "An Octorok," he muttered, disgusted. "I don't remember them being so … squid-like before. Damn Illoe. Damn him. I was only trying to do my job, but no – I end up stuck, and a target for a crazy sorcerer. Not my idea of fun. A curse, impending war; please, tell me why this was a good idea?"

"Because if you'd taken anyone else with you, you would've got caught by now?" Amusement. "Think about it, kid. Ucheriah – for all his qualities – has the grace of a newly bonded Loftwing. Renil takes after his father too much to be of any use, and my daughter… I love her, but Zelda is – Zelda. Do away with all her walls, and you're faced with a remlit curious, ever-practical blend of her parents. Goddesses above."

He snorted. "And why is that not a good thing, Commander? If she's all you say she is, why not bring her along? I mean, sure, it doesn't match up with the Zelda Hyrela I know, but I can kind of see it. It's not as if she's perfect – none of us are. I'll admit that freely. We're out here, alone, in the forests of Lorea without any backup. On a stealth mission, no less. Your bird can't get over the bridge. We stuff up, it's all over."

"I know that," the Commander replied grimly. "That's why she's not here; and I am. I've done this before. There's nothing left in me to break when I'm already in pieces from something that happened when I was sixteen. I've faced down killer security systems, undead warriors, giant squid … and yet when I look at Zelda, I see myself and my wife at fifteen. Nothing terrifies me more than losing her how I lost myself."

"No-one really knows what happened," Aviol pointed out softly, kicking away a dead branch. "I asked around town, and no-one could tell me. I mentioned it to Groose, to your wife, and they both told me it was better off that I don't know. Yet you can make your way through all the dungeons without need for a map and know every monster nest is in all regions of the Surface inside out. Do I want to know why?"

"Probably not," he grumbled, "And trust me, no-one in town knows for a good reason. It's complicated, but let's just say a rescue mission turned into a whirlwind, and very few people on Skyloft cared to notice. It's harder to make men of monsters than it is to make monsters of men. Ask Batreaux – he'll tell you. He'd know, of course. I don't keep a knife under my pillow just for whenever I want a midnight snack."

They would've talked more about the topic, but they didn't have time as something crashed through the brush towards them. A growl cut the air. No time indeed. Running through his options aloud, he picked a direction and bolted, dodging branches and fallen trees as soon they appeared in his vision. Not fast enough, though. It slammed into his back, and he muffled a yelp as he hit the ground. This was bad.

And it was going to hurt, too. The attack he was expecting didn't come, just a gurgle, and a torrent of dark blood as the creature on top of him went limp. As it toppled over, muscles slack in death. Pointedly ignoring the corpse next to him, Aviol pushed himself upright, and ran a hand through his hair. Listened as the Commander picked up his blade and wiped it clean, silence now a reprieve. A blessing; peaceful.

"Thanks," he mumbled, swallowing. "You didn't have to do that. Really. I'm pretty sure Illoe would just thank you if you'd left me to die. I don't have much to live for anyway. But it's getting closer to dawn, and we should be back by then. Saves the drama for the early hours of the morning. I plan on sleeping tomorrow afternoon. We have a job to finish; the least we could do is scout the place out. C'mon."

The Commander laughed. "Sounds like fun. We have our equipment, and this isn't Eldin, so we're not trying to pull off a stealth exercise in a volcanic region surrounded by magma and monsters. Don't ask, you don't want to know. It was … only mildly life-threatening. I would not suggest snagging bombs with a whip, just in case you were wondering. It's not the smartest idea in the world, but it worked, so…"'

Zelda blinked and shook her head. Back to the present. She'd completely zoned out during the recording, her entire focus on it, and only now once it was over did she realise that Link was beside her. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and he was tugging on an earring as he thought. It was a bad habit of his, but that wasn't what worried her. Her namesake was in tears. Crying in Ucheriah's arms.

Not that she could blame her. She'd react the same way too. Especially if it involved her father. Her dead father. He'd died a few years ago, from natural causes, but she could still remember his voice. Lady Hyrela, she would imagine, had forgotten what her father sounded like. It'd been nine hundred years, after all. But it didn't mean that it didn't hurt any less; if anything it hurt more. And as for Aviol, well –

He was in trouble. Again. No surprises there. In the middle of getting scolded by his wife. Hilda, please, he protested, frowning, what would you've had me do in that situation? Yes, we went back over the course of several nights. Yes, we almost got ourselves killed. Yes, it was dangerous. Of course it was. But if we hadn't, none of us would be here. We all needed it, even the Commander. It was for the best, dear.

She just scowled at him and grumbled something under her breath. Shade or not, he was right, and she was aware of it. Too aware of it. But she also knew Link; knew that responsibility and guilt went hand in hand. It was a cruel thing. Neither of them would sleep well tonight, that much was certain. Link hated to admit it, but his nightmares didn't leave. Zelda just pretended that he hadn't woken her. For his sake.

Including his pride. The trauma wasn't pleasant, and the Hytopia incident certainly hadn't helped matters. She would've let him return to his old life, as a blacksmith's apprentice, after it was all over, but they'd both known such a thing wasn't possible. He'd changed too much. Grown too much. Seen too much. He wasn't a child anymore. Neither was she. So she'd let him help the only way he knew how.


Links are a dangerous breed. End of story. They pull off the craziest stunts and somehow live, so ... yes. A dangerous breed, indeed. And so the mystery surrounding Skyloft's Commander only grows. Our poor General Lindak. He has enough to deal with - Zelda, nightmares, Shades - he doesn't need this too. To think this was supposed to be a holiday. Some holiday it's turning out to be, huh? Oh well. At least he has plenty of good company. Plenty.

See you next time!