Chapter 1- The Sword that Seals the Darkness
"Someone drew the sword? Today?"
"Today, your highness. His name is Link."
Silence. Then "That's… a common name, isn't it? There are at least two in the royal guard. Which one?"
"Not the guard." Pause. "This one is a lifer, but no longer active duty. He got himself injured a few years ago. Now he teaches."
The queen stared across her desk at the wall. Silence stretched out between the two of them like a cat.
"He is sharing his experience with the recruits," her captain offered.
"So, how old is he, exactly, then?" She asked. She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes, watching the whole situation worsen in front of her.
Nothing.
"Has this blade ever chosen someone over the age of 18? I thought the whole reason we present very young boys to it was because it chooses the very young?"
Her captain drew a breath and stopped whatever he was going to say.
She repeated herself. "How old is he?"
"He is forty-two, your highness."
Forty-two.
"Can I ask what a forty-two year old man was doing when he got his hands on the Master Sword?" She slid her face into her hands, bracing for impact.
"He was leading the group presenting to the sword. He has brought children to the sword annually for the past three or four years."
"Surely he was presented when he was younger- he must tug on that sword every year! Why now?"
"Today, it seems, the blade found him worthy."
It sounded so easy. The sword knew what it wanted, and when that person wrapped a hand around the hilt, it would slide out of the pedestal. That's the moment where all is right. More than right. It's a moment where one touches something sacred.
No living person has ever actually seen this moment, of course. Some theorized that the odd sword in the stone was just a trick and couldn't actually be removed. No one had seen it so much as wiggle in centuries.
It certainly hadn't budged for him when he was sixteen. He remembered the hope he'd felt, the but what if- and then he'd touched the cobalt blue hilt, wrapped his fingers around it and pulled and… nothing. It may as well have been sculpted straight from the stone.
So. Not the chosen hero. But no one else in that group had been. Or any group after that in the 26 years since. Everyone hopes, sure, but in the end it was just a story.
Right?
Two days ago everything was normal. The day was sunny, but not too warm, and the view on the plateau was amazing as always. Camp had been set in a clearing at the foot of the hill top where the Temple of Time stood. Despite the relatively low ground, the outline of Hyrule Castle could be seen in the distance, its delicate towers and spires giving the structure a fairy tale feel from this vantage. The ominously named Death Mountain,apparently once a very active volcano rose high on the horizon, the tallest peak visible. The southern view was blocked by the rise of the hill where the temple sat, but you could see trees on the terraced landscape of Faron if you squinted a little. The temple itself sat quiet and serene, built in another age and no one was sure what purpose it had served originally.
He had been a teenager the first time he'd been here, with his entire life before him. Things had not gone exactly as he might have planned, but overall, life hadn't been that bad. He had been a soldier in a time of peace and that was fine. He'd seen places in Hyrule and met people he would not have otherwise. Then he'd been called back to central Hyrule to oversee training young recruits. He'd been doing it for the past few years, and that was fine, too.
It had been a good life so far. And then, when he retired, maybe he'd go back to that fishing village on the beach. And maybe, if she was still around and interested, he'd court up that girl, seriously this time. Though he supposed by then she would be a woman, and an old one, at that. That would be ok. More than ok.
And if she wasn't, maybe he could convince that reference librarian to leave the castle. Maybe.
Two days ago, he'd been on his third or fourth trip to the Temple of Time with a bunch of kids rounded up from various villages to go see this sword in the pedestal. This trip was voluntary- what kid doesn't secretly think they might be some hero of legend? So they took any that wanted to come; mostly boys, but a few girls the past few years too. It was pretty much a vacation: spend a few days on the road, go see some gorgeous scenery, watch children make new friends, and go back home with a story to tell.
And Hylia, but they would have quite a story this year.
The night before presenting, they had camped outside the Temple. Link, Kota, maybe a dozen kids huddled around the campfire telling stories. The kids had probably horsed around late into the night too, but that was fine. The next day's stakes were not particularly high, after all.
Link woke up with a headache, a buzzing that rattled his entire skull. The light was a little too bright and everyone was a little too loud; and sure, he and Kota had shared some wine last night, but he certainly hadn't had that much. And anyway, this wasn't much like a hangover in the first place. It was… different.
He toughed it out through breakfast and breaking camp but hung back a little as they approached the Temple. As they neared the building, he felt like whatever was going on inside his head was getting a tiny bit...worse? More intense?
He herded stragglers through the doors, then stepped through himself. As he did, he heard a whisper in his left ear. He jerked to a stop, ears twitching.
"Link? You alright?"
He gave his head a quick, painful shake, and held up a hand, silently asking Kota for a moment. And he listened.
oh you're finally here
it's time
it's time
it's time
it's finally Time
The sword rested at the center of the Temple of Time, in a triangle shaped pedestal. The stained glass windows depicted past heroes wielding that sword. Stories to thrill each other with, Link supposed. After all, they couldn't be real, right? Some of the images baffled the mind; no creature like that could have existed. The one that had always caught his eye was of a great black beast with a spike of stone in its snout, towering on two feet will the tiny figure of a man appeared to be attacking its toes. One man with a sword going after that could only ever succeed in being lunch.
Right?
"LINK."
He turned to the pedestal, suspecting that hadn't been the first time someone called his name. The sword looked different this year. It sparkled, bathed in gold light without an obvious source and oh his head. Was he having a stroke?
No one else seemed to see anything odd, though the kids had all quieted down. Now they gazed upon the sword with eager anticipation.
I am so happy to see you again master it has been too long
"Link, are you ok?" Real concern this time.
Link waved Kota off, giving him a weak smile. "I'm fine. Let's get this started."
He took a breath and steadied himself, trying to get above the headache and the whispers. "OK, everyone, settle down and listen." He hoped his voice sounded more confident than it felt. He took a step toward the pedestal and began.
"Legend says that when great danger threatens Hyrule, a hero rises to aid the incarnation of the Goddess Hylia to stop it. This sword is the instrument the hero uses to defeat it, and when its duty is done, it comes back here to rest and wait for the next hero. Stories say the sword will only come out for the hero and no one else."
"How does it know?" He startled a little at the young voice and his head swam.
Master please
Link closed his eyes and touched his temple with his left hand. " No one knows. The goddesses decide who is worthy."
"Like Queen Zelda? My mom says she's a goddess. Why doesn't she just pick?"
Oh Hylia. Link normally enjoyed these sorts of interjections, but he just wanted to get this done and go nurse the thrum in his head somewhere quiet. He drew a deep breath. "That's not the role the Queen plays in the story." Maybe that was not the right tone.
He saw Kota snap his head around to give him a look and hiss in a lowered tone. "That was a little sharp, don't you think?"
He sighed. "I'm sorry. Your mom is right. The Queen, or more usually, the Princess Zelda may be a goddess but this isn't her role. The sword itself makes the selection as to who will be its master, and that's why it's called the Master Sword. We never know when it might be time, and the sword tends to pick young people, so all of you are going to try to pull it out. Like this."
All those young faces turned to him and he straightened up. Giving his head another quick shake, Link stepped to the pedestal. Kota frowned. He knew something wasn't right. Link's head grew heavy with that low buzz, and he could feel it grow… anticipatory. Like the feeling one got reaching out for an intimate partner.
Not for the first time, he stood before the sword. It had never been like this though. He swallowed, and for a moment felt a flash of fear crackle on his skin. What would happen when he took the hilt?
Nothing is going to happen. Nothing ever happens.
It was a one handed sword. He reached out with both hands, already anticipating the futile strength it would take to tug at the sword. Nothing is going to happen. Nothing is going to happen. Nothing is going to happen.
He wrapped his hands around the hilt. His eyes fluttered closed on contact. There was a short moment where his mind was empty. Then, oh goddesses what have I done?
Even through closed eyes, his vision was bathed in that gold light. The buzzing left his head and took his breath with it. His gut dropped and he felt like he was coming apart. He tightened his grip- and now there was a sort of joy in his head, but it didn't belong to him, as though he was taking part of a reunion he knew nothing about.
It's been too long, master! It is good to see you again. He didn't know who was so pleased to see him again, but they were ever so happy he'd come back. The light intensified. He pulled upward on the hilt.
And it moved, just a little. Then a little more. Outside of him, he heard a collective gasp. That's right, he wasn't alone in this place. But there wasn't time for the others. The sword kept coming. It slid out of its home in the pedestal; and muscle memory he didn't remember made him flip the point of the blade skyward, still in his two hands. He brought the flat of the blade to his forehead, reveled in a sacred moment. He took in a soft, fluttery breath and finally opened his eyes, catching their reflection in the metal. Oh, now what? As simple as that and everything changes.
Was his nose bleeding now? Link collapsed.
It sounded so easy.