*squints* There's a lot of self-indulgent projection going on here... about fashion... Okay, look. I've gotta use my Fashion Communication major for something!

One of the songs I listened to as I wrote (and edited) the final scene was 'Suffocate' by Nathan Wagner which I think is a pretty great Zelgan song.

The Magic Awakens

Chapter 33

Ganon's Warning

Zelda all but pressed her masked nose to the glass when train announced two minutes until their stop. Link sat opposite her, the ball of his foot bouncing. Such a short timeframe just had to crawl by, didn't it?

As the wheels screeched, Zelda squealed and pointed. There she was, Impa, happy and healthy and whole, standing next to Mipha as they both waved.

Link adjusted his own mask as he followed Zelda, who flew onto the platform. Before she threw herself into Impa's open arms, she paused. "Are you really okay?" It was difficult to believe, given how weak and frail and maimed she was the last time Zelda had seen her.

"Yes," Impa assured her.

Zelda looked to Mipha to be sure. "She's still a little tender," the doctor said. "We're taking the healing process slow until we know more." With a nod, Zelda floated into her guardian's arms. She'd restore a thousand more lakes for her.

Link hung back, feeling unworthy of this moment. He wasn't responsible for Impa's recovery like Zelda was, and he was still wrestling with the guilt of being a difficult child to raise, but when his family opened their arms to him, he was drawn in like a hook to the chest, and familial warmth enveloped him.

Mipha's heart swelled at the reunion, her conscience feather-light for the first time in months. Too many times, a critical patient was denied her healing touch. "We did our best," she had lied to the families over and over. Telling these twins that they had been orphaned all over again would've signed her letter of resignation. Because of their efforts, her oath could be upheld.

When the family parted, the twins turned to her. "Thank-you so much," said Zelda, eyes glistening with tears.

Mipha smiled. "It is I who should be thanking you." It was why she had come, despite professionalism. "My ancestral land has been restored, and more lives have been saved thanks to your efforts."

"How many?" Link asked.

"Only three by my hand," she said, "but plenty more by my colleagues. I never thought it possible for every patient to have a fighting chance, yet here we are."

Zelda whispered to Link. "Don't you dare use this as an excuse to be more reckless." He rubbed his neck with an awkward smile that promised very little. Mipha chimed with laughter and Zelda's face dropped. "You weren't supposed to hear us."

"I should be glad that Mr Harkinian won't be frequenting our emergency room under your watchful eye, but I'm sure the staff will miss him." Apparently Link was more familiar with this doctor than he realised. It made the slight infatuation he had with her brother even more embarrassing.

Another chain of carriages pulled up to the platform. "That's my train," Mipha announced.

"You're leaving?" Zelda asked.

The doctor nodded. "I wish to see Lake Hylia for myself, and it's been far too long since Sidon and I spent some time together."

Zelda flushed. "Oh, um, tell him we said hi." Wow, four hours after receiving a farewell from her, and Sidon was about to be greeted with a hello on her behalf. That wouldn't be strange at all.

Mipha, all too aware of her brother's dangerous charm, giggled. "Of course." With a final farewell, she boarded the train, and waved as it pulled away.

"I'd love to hear about your quest," said Impa, "but I'm sure you'll want to rest before the school dance tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" Zelda screeched. "Din's fire, I have nothing to wear!"

The musky smell of Madam Couture's Vintage Emporium tickled at Link's asthma. He flipped through a rack of blazers and his mask repelled the dust he disturbed. At least his condition was only a nuisance for now, but given his odd disguise, he dared not cough, lest he draw more attention from the customers.

Now that was worth pulling off the rack. A bottle green blazer with a collar of husky fur. "Hey, Tetra." That was the name Zelda went by undercover now. "What do you think of this?"

Zelda looked up from a rack of dated bridesmaid dresses. "Is the wolf dressing up for his imp?"

"It's that obvious?"

"Even if it wasn't, it wouldn't matter," she said. "It's impossible to find a well-tailored blazer straight of the…" She trailed off as Link fastened the button and straightened the lapel. It fit perfectly. "I hate you so much," she muttered. Five minutes in and Link had already found the ideal statement piece, while she hadn't glimpsed anything worth a second look.

Link, still wearing that stupid blazer, flipped through the rack opposite her. After the first three garments, he stopped and pulled one out. "Uh, Tetra, is this dress changing colour?"

Zelda rolled her eyes. "Of course they are, Ravio. Did you honestly expect the fashion industry to ignore the return of magic?" His jaw dropped beneath the mask and he rifled through the rest. Some garments had ruffles that floated on a breeze, while others were "printed" with the "film" of a kaleidoscope. "I thought I was seeing things around school," he mumbled, recalling the subtle ways his peers' clothing defied physics.

"These are mere party tricks compared to what magic has done for fashion," Zelda said, barely containing a yawn. "Take Midna's cousin for example. She's figured out how to construct the most beautiful gowns from shadows." Oh no. Zelda really needed to ban herself from talking with a tired brain, and now Link had that stupid twinkle in his eye. "Forget I said that! How about we discuss the wonderful world of nebula dresses instead?"

"Shouldn't we be worried about people getting attached to magic?"

Zelda flitted to the other end of Link's rack. "Oh, I am definitely worried," she half-lied, "but this is also a wonderful and unique moment in history. I think everyone should be allowed to enjoy the good parts for as long as they can." Her eyes were stinging now. Goddesses, anything could make her tear up. Her flipping became more frantic. "And I just really want to keep looking at nebula dresses." She sniffled.

Link squinted at her. "Are you crying?"

She wasn't ready to share her promise to Lanayru. Not here. Not now. "They're so beautiful, Ravio. You don't understand. When we seal away the magic, we won't have nebula dresses." She threw her arms around him and buried her wet lashes in his fur collar. "Why am I even here? What's the point of trying if I can't even wear a nebula cloud?"

Though Link drowned in a confusion thicker than the cistern's sludge, he soothed her back. "This is about something else, right?"

Yes, it was. If the magic was to stay, Ganon would never be free of his curse. They'd have no choice but to… to… "Ganon won't get to see me wear a nebula cloud," she choked. "Neither do our parents." If only they were there to comfort her now. If only they were there to fawn over a typical teenage event. If only she wasn't saddled with this stupid destiny! "And I don't want to be Hylia reborn. I want to be a celestial goddess instead!"

How was Link supposed to respond to his sister having a very public existential crisis over not being able to use celestial bodies as a fashion statement? He looked around for Impa to help and was absolutely dumbfounded to find her sitting on a children's stool (with a missing leg), hunched over as tears dripped shy of the slate balanced on her knee. It showed a model swishing and prancing about in an incredibly faithful recreation of nebula clouds in vaguely dress form. Yes, the dress was inconceivably gorgeous, but Impa hadn't cried since the day Link's parents passed away. "You would look so beautiful, Tetra," she croaked. Was extreme emotion a normal side-effect of these nebula dresses, or was there something going on with Impa too?

A few minutes of backrubs (and staring customers) later, Zelda had calmed down enough to continue her hunt. Link's slate rang with perfect timing. When he answered, the first thing that came through was someone blowing their nose long and hard. "Link, I want you to know that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me." Sweet Nayru, Midna was crying too!

"Uh, thanks?"

"The Indigo-Gos are reuniting and they're gonna play at the dance. They said it's to thank you for the lake." Another tissue was ruthlessly massacred. "I just got off the phone with Evan. Evan! He practically wrote my tween years."

"It's mostly Zel's work," Link confessed, "but I'm glad you're happy."

"I fucking wish we could dance to 'Ballad of the Windfish'. That would make everything perfect, but my stupid family is stupid."

"I dunno. We could sneak a dance somehow."

"No way. Twinny's on chaperone duty. Face it, Link. We're a period drama couple."

"Not in private," he cheeked. How he loved her cackle.

Near the back of the shop, Zelda squealed as she drew a heavy item from the rack. "Impa, look at this!" Impa stealthily wiped away a stray tear and raised her head. It was a dark blue kimono taller than Zelda, with an embroidered border of lyres on a wash of light blue swirls. "Inspired by the legend of Sheik." Zelda hugged it to her chest with a dreamy sigh. "It's perfect."

"It is lovely," Impa said, "but not quite dance appropriate. How about something inspired by the princess?"

"I was going to upcycle it into a 70s jumpsuit." Zelda twirled with her prize. "And I'm not quite as fond of those princess stories anymore. Why be a passenger to someone else's destiny when I could drive it myself?" Zelda would never know how much those words stung her guardian.

"Alright." Impa reached for her wallet. "Don't let me catch you pulling another all-nighter."

The sewing machine whirred through another seam, a backtrack to the audiobook playing from Zelda's slate. She yawned again but remained firm. Sleep would come when the last edge was hemmed.

"Many scholars argue that if magic existed, it would still be present, as it would be too valuable a resource to seal away." All the reliable texts had become outdated two months ago which was a real bother. The book brought up the interesting question of what could have left Hyrule desperate enough to seal away the magic in the first place, but it provided no answers, nor could it foretell if whatever calamity had struck back then was doomed to repeat. Furthermore, if it was, could it be prevented? That was the basis upon which her argument needed to be formed when she told Link and Impa that the magic should to stay. Though things like medical advancement and empowered eco-systems were compelling reasons, they weren't worth the steep price of an apocalypse.

Damn it! She had sewn a pocket shut, and she had missed thirty seconds of her audiobook. What if those thirty seconds shared the key to her case? Upon rewinding, they didn't. More disproven theories. Halfway through unpicking her "mistake", she paused. And facepalmed. Why bother with pockets when you have a magic storage void?

As if concentrating on two tasks at once wasn't enough, her mind kept wandering back to Ganon. Though it had only been three days since the incident, the events of Lake Hylia had stretched them into months. To think that three days ago, she was fretting over a little crush, and she missed when her problems were that small.

She had over-thought her feelings for Ganon, because as a queer woman, the validity of her feelings were always questioned, internally and out. Malon hadn't grasped that a girl could fall for a girl as intensely as she could fall for a boy. Combine that with Zelda's lacking libido, and it was a wonder if she could fall for anyone intensely at all. What away to be proven wrong.

When "Ganondorf" had closed his fingers around her throat, any feelings for him should have vanished, or at least have been overshadowed by betrayal. Whether he was at fault or not shouldn't make a difference when it came to romance, but when her little crush problem was bombed by a larger one, it gave her a tragic sense of clarity.

She wanted him to be hers. No more tripping. No more denying. No more treating the yearning of her heart like some inconvenience that would blow over. She wanted them to kiss and dance and love to their whims. Her chaotic affection for Ganondorf embodied his very character.

But that character was either gone, or would have to die for Zelda's promise to Lanayru.

Zelda unpicked her seam and strived to listen to the narrator over her aching heart. Her eyelids grew heavier, and the noise more garbled, until she was floating away. To where? It wasn't clear. She was drifting through darkness, and the darkness flickered with flame.

First, it was a crackle, a gentle disturbance, like a campfire in the background. Something to anchor Zelda through the void, but the flames gradually burned taller, brighter, hotter, from the cusp of a wildfire to a roaring inferno billowing against her nightgown, her hair, and her spirit.

Who or what had taken her from the comfort of her room in the cool night air? Delivered her to a hellscape that paled Death Mountain to a hot spring? Was this her reckoning for daring to stray from her destiny for even a moment?

Demons danced beyond curtains of flame. Pointing. Laughing. Towards someone at the centre of the chaos.

She was running to the heart of the inferno, towards him. He was supposed to be dangerous, unpredictable, and possessed, but she knew, or the Triforce knew, who it was on his knees, clutching his head, and screaming.

"Succumb," the demons whispered. "Succumb to power. Succumb to your true self." Ganondorf threw back his head, his eyes a piercing gold, as tusks emerged from his jaw. "Merge." Screams morphed into a roar.

"Ganon!" From the impact of Zelda's embrace, the darkness and flames melted into a sparkling desert oasis. The tusks receded, and the echoing roar faded into gasps.

Zelda didn't care if this was a dream. Everything was so lucid, and he felt so real. After all she had been through, she deserved to indulge in this illusion, but she knew in her heart that through the magic of the Triforce, their souls had been reunited.

He held her stiffly, as if he were shocked to see her or shielding her should the hellscape return. After a silent half minute, in which Zelda savoured every second, he found his voice. "Are you really here?"

"I don't know," she croaked. "Are you?"

A beat of realisation pass him by. He parted from her and knelt to her level. She had missed his captivating eyes, but this time they bore into her with a desperation she had never witnessed before. They reflected the creeping flames. "Listen to me. You can't go to the dance tomorrow."

What? That was very out of the Lost Woods. "Why? What's wrong?"

The flames slithered in faster. Leapt higher. "Some kind of plot. He won't let me see anything."

"Who's 'he'?" He mouthed an answer but the flames drowned him out. They leered and hissed and screeched at her. How dare she trespass on another's nightmare! Zelda cowered under her folded arms and screamed as they crashed upon her.

They spat her into reality. She was slumped against her desk, tired, sluggish, and pulsing with fear. Was that a lucid dream or a psychic connection? Was it a genuine warning, or the manifestations of her anxiety? The latter was far more likely.

Even with Impa healed, those horrid sights and sensations were still imprinted in Zelda's mind. The ghost of "Ganondorf's" hand still constricted her throat, and Impa's blood still pooled from her limp form. Those things happened in Zelda's home, where she was supposed to be safe. Of course she was superstitious and suggestable!

But the reality was that people like Ghirahim, like the demon who stole Ganon away, weren't going to politely afford her safety at home or school. Honestly, it was a wonder that their home hadn't been attacked sooner, though Zelda supposed Impa and her tattooed friends had something to do with it.

Still, the reality that Zelda was in constant danger didn't mean that the school dance specifically was under threat. What would the villains have to gain from crashing it, anyway? She had been looking forward to it since the start of the year, and even more so once the quest sapped her leisure time. Even without Ganondorf, she just wanted one night where she could have fun with Link and her friends. Her anxiety disorder was trying to ruin this good thing for her, like it always did, and why would anyone call off the dance because of a hysterical dream?

Thus she continued to sew, but the whir of the machine whispered those two ugly words. What if?

What if the warning was true, and the consequences were dire? What if the plot happened, and Zelda had to live with the guilt of having done nothing?

Okay, fine! She'd throw her mental illness a bone just to shut it up.

When the seam was finished, she crept into the hall and turned the knob to Impa's bedroom. Zelda had known her to sleep with one eye open, so she was impossible to sneak past. Tonight was the exception because by Zelda's luck, Mipha had prescribed Impa sleeping pills.

The mess on Impa's desk hadn't been touched since she made the illusion strips for the case file heist. It was unusual for her, but convenient. The spell book was open to the right page and the ink and parchment were sprawled out. Zelda made mental note of the layout as she shuffled the materials into her arms. Then it was back to her room, back to her desk, and back to her paranoia.

You ever just try to write a cohesive plot and get distracted by fashion headcanons? Just me? Okay. (Actually it was a vessel for some very important subtext and foreshadowing.) Know that I had to hold back on describing exactly how faux nebulas are made on Earth, but stained glass is definitely involved.

Also there was a scene in which Link invited Impa onto the Special Branch from Chapter 13 and they talked out some of the stuff Link was sorta bitter about, as well as learning more about Zelda Senior but I just COULD NOT get it to work. It was also an excuse to share Impa's tragic high school backstory but that wasn't plot relevant to begin with... She went to juvie. That's all I'm telling you.