How are we feeling about the new Breath of the Wild 2 trailer? Looks pretty darn cool so far! Lots of Skyward Sword vibes and I am very concerned about the state of Link's right arm.

Disclaimer: There are no references to 'The Matrix' in this fic.


The Magic Awakens

Chapter 37

A Fleeting Respite


Link hated how feeble his wrists were. Well, they weren't exactly feeble, but anything more than a light grip made the pain flare up, and the pain wasn't that bad, but it was too much on top of everything else. When the elastic of his sweatpants snapped against his damp skin, he that was all he could do for himself. Yesterday he could fight cultists, but today he couldn't even pull on a shirt or dry his hair? How pathetic.

He lifted his head to his reflection in the closet door across the room. Gone was the burgeoning image of the hero from the start of his journey, replaced someone who was weak, and weakness was ugly. Those scars that were once a natural part of him were stark against his skin.

They mockingly replayed the memories of their infliction. The rubber bullet bit into his shoulder and rendered him unable to use his arm for two weeks. The arrow of the crossbow scratched past his cheek, fired by an elderly woman who got the better of him in the first two days of his quest. There were jaws clamped around his ankle as a titan's tongue suffocated him. There was a giant talon that ripped through his abdomen and almost stole his life away because he ran in reckless. That should've been the wake-up call that this quest would be too much for him, but he ignored it by throwing himself in the next event and the next. Burn marks on his back. Punctures from undead nails and teeth. His damaged respiratory system.

And now? Bruise marks on his neck from last night. More on his cheek and forehead from that morning. To top it all off was the ultimate collaboration between Ghirahim and Tahk Ozul. The layer of skin around his wrists had been sanded away by rope and then bit into for a whole night by cuffs that were tighter than regulations allowed. For the longest time, Link coped with his injuries by taking a misguided pride in them. Look at the pain he endured. Look at what he was mighty enough to survive. This? It was like the restraints had never left him, and now he couldn't stand to pretend that his trauma was something to be proud of.

The door creaked open, and there Midna stood, holding a container of First Aid supplies in both hands. She wore a loose purple crop top that did not hide her lack of a bra, as well as snug mid-thigh bike shorts. Nayru's love, he didn't deserve someone as beautiful as her.

She sat beside Link near the head of his bed and balanced the box on her lap. "I'll need your help," Midna said. "Zelda told me a few things, but I've never done this before." His sister was wise to send Midna in her stead.

Midna plucked two pill bottles and read the labels of each. "Huh. These are new. Red and blue pills, based off ancient potion recipes."

"What do they do?" Link asked. Zelda or Impa must have picked them up over the past fortnight.

"Dull the pain and speed up healing."

He acknowledged the answer with a grunt.

"On a scale of one to ten, how bad do you think your wounds are?"

Link shrugged. "Three?" That would've called for the less potent red pill, but when Midna eyed his wrists and noted how he wasn't healing as fast as normal, she went for the blue.

Seconds after swallowing down the pill, the aches and pains of his body were already starting to fade, and he wondered if this was another magical medicine that would be lost to their final goal. It made Midna cleaning his wrists with alcohol a far more forgiving process. After she wound gauze around the final one, she didn't let go. Instead, she held it in her lap and caressed the fabric. "Does it still hurt?"

"No," Link lied, but it was nothing more than a dull ache now. At least they were functional again.

She stopped caressing. "It's not fine."

He tilted his head.

"What you said in the lift. Us. We need to check in on us. Can we do that?"

Link nodded, though he wasn't sure if he could muster words. He was afraid that she was about to make a very misguided mistake in the name of protecting him, but she shouldn't have to protect him. He was the protector, but he was incapable of protecting anyone right now, or so he felt.

Midna placed the box on the floor and shifted closer. "I want to stay," she said. "I want to keep fighting for you, with you, because I love you." She really hoped that wasn't the wrong thing to say, that it wouldn't lure him away from whatever decision was best for him. "But if you can't do this anymore, I get it. I really do."

He was silent for a moment. There was only the chink of dishes downstairs, the whir of a car along the road, and the hiss of Impa's shower down the hall. "You love me?"

Midna traced a lock of hair behind her ear. "You don't need to say it back. Just want you to know."

It wasn't that Link couldn't say it back, but rather that he couldn't fathom why she would say it now. He was battered and broken and far from the heroic paragon he was supposed to embody, even around her, and yet she loved him. His damaged body and his worn features were exposed to her, and yet she loved him. With the way her eyes traced his figure, she even lusted for him, and that felt good. Too good.

"Was that the first time he tried to hit you?" Link asked.

"It's happened once or twice over the years," Midna said, "but he generally sees that kind of thing as beneath him."

"Have things have changed?"

"Maybe. I won't ever let him take it too far, though," she assured him, "and I think I finally have a plan to escape. Not much left to puzzle out."

Link shifted closer. "Then he can't stop us."

"He can't stop us?" Midna repeated, and Link affirmed it with a hand running up her inner thigh. He can't stop us. The mantra repeated in her mind over and over, and she allowed herself to savour her primal desires in their full form, and at last gave herself permission to surrender.

Midna leaned in and kissed him with a tentative enthusiasm that he returned without hesitation. She knew he wasn't well, so she let him set the pace of their intimacy, but the pace was breakneck, and Midna relished in it. That longing they had felt, that caution they traversed, evaporated in this moment when his lips, his hands, and his heat asked for the things that she had been dying to give for so long.

At the invitation of Link's light push, Midna fell back onto the pillows and pulled him down with her without breaking the kiss, but when she crossed her ankles over his backside, it gave him pause. "Um... Your bed's too small for me," she mumbled. "We can try something else?"

Link spared a hand to squeeze her thigh. "Keep them there," he said hoarsely, so she bit her smile, wound her legs tighter, and he dove back down.

As the rhythm of their kisses spread through their bodies and their hands snaked over their ridges and curves, Link tasted salt. He raised himself to meet her tearful eyes. "Sorry," Midna muttered. "I want to. I really do." Her body was still firmly locked with his. "Does that make me a slut?"

Link wanted to say, "It doesn't matter" and keep going if she insisted. She didn't deserve to let stale rumours hold her back, but something about her plea for validation made him feel so ugly inside, and then it clicked. He wasn't doing this for them. He was using her for a shallow win against at least one of his enemies, because despite Captain Ozul's best and most unethical efforts, you can't stop me from bedding your daughter. Link should have known better. He did know better, and yet even he, a "hero", almost lost his grip on his morals.

"Can we stop?" His voice cracked a little, because he was scared that he failed her expectations and she'd make it known. He'd already done that for the world, but she fell away without a hint of protest.

Midna shifted over and Link lay on his side, his back to her. "Need a big spoon?" she asked. A lengthy second passed before he nodded. She closed in, threading one arm under his neck, draping the other over his torso, and tucking his head under her chin. The bed really was too short for her, so Link had to pull up his knees so that Midna could bend hers. Then she caressed him the way he had caressed her, as if he taught her how to love him.

She was wonderful, kind, patient, and so many other amazing things people said she was not. She was the only person he could rely on in the present moment to hold him together. After what he did for her in the Shadow Temple, he had never known that she would be able to return the favour so profoundly. He thought she wouldn't have to.

"I love you too." The words tumbled out, scarcely a whisper, as if he wasn't worthy enough to utter them, but Midna smiled into his crown and held him a little tighter. Give him a few more moments of this comfort and maybe, just maybe, he could find it in himself to trust her with a sliver of the many harsh things weighing on his mind.

After all, who else could he trust?


Zelda knew the creaks of the stairs well, and that made her undetectable to Link's excellent hearing. Given their tension, she wanted to be as invisible as she could around him, because ever since Ghirahim accused her of foresight, her brother gave her a look that flared up far too much shame. One that said, Why didn't you stop this? All she could do was invite him to breakfast and probe for reconciliation. Then, if she ever had a dream like that again, she would consult him and Impa about its validity, which should have been her initial approach. It would've prevented so much pain.

When she raised her knuckles to his wooden door, snippets of conversation stilled her.

"Impa lied." It was a quiet croak from Link. Even though she shouldn't have, Zelda pressed her ear against the crack of the door. "She's lied for nine fucking years. Everyone did. They said Mum and Dad died in an accident, but Ghirahim, he teased the truth in front of everyone."

"Oh, Link," Midna lamented. "I'm so sorry."

Zelda did not leave quietly. She stormed to her room, tore open the door, and threw herself face-first into the pillows where she unleashed her screams into the muffled void. Trauma she had processed years ago emerged with a vengeance to tear up her insides.

She returned to the blood in the flooded laundry slithering towards her toes. That was meant to be blood spilled by a tragic accident. Not blood spurted from a wound opened by Ghirahim's blade, or whoever's weapon it was.

And Link, who knew how much this memory had affected Zelda, who knew that his girlfriend had compounded his sister's trauma that day on the playground, told Midna first. Zelda had forgiven her, she really had, but Midna wasn't supposed to be the first to receive such a devastating revelation. She shouldn't be the first person Link trusted with anything regarding their parents. Impa had betrayed Zelda too, and Zelda had a right to know about it, and she had the right to know about it before her ex-bully.

At Zelda's next thought, she mellowed out a little, and it was as though she had gained a new sense of clarity. It was easy, far too easy, to fall into old patterns of bitterness. She had no right to be upset with Link for sharing with Midna first when Zelda had damaged his trust. She had no right to resent Midna who had proven over and over that she had transformed into someone who could handle the topic of their parents with delicacy.

The resentment, the desire to throw blame and shove her emotions at those she cared about, still gurgled and sloshed about, but Zelda kept the lid of rationality pressed over it. Though she didn't know if she could keep it there long enough for these misplaced emotions to settle down.

Unbeknownst to her, the Triforce of Wisdom shone a little brighter.


"I know you're hurting," Midna said, "but you have a family who loves you. Try to reconcile."

Though he knew it wasn't Midna's intention, Link felt like an idiot for hurting over this. He had a sibling and parent who loved him, who supported him throughout his life, while Midna had none of that. He shouldn't be hurt. But he was. And he was going to try as hard as he could to not be bothered by this, starting with the dreaded breakfast Zelda had called them for after too long.

He slipped on a t-shirt and Midna thoroughly dried his hair with the shadow of his towel. It gave it quite the fluffy texture, which she delighted in teasing and tussling. That made Link chuckle a little. A good sign.

The smoothie bowls Zelda had made weren't of her usual quality. The fruit arrangement was clumsy, and they had been left out for too long. They were runny, lukewarm, and swallowing some of the toppings.

Zelda took dainty sips as she attempted small talk, Impa stirred the concoction without bringing the spoon to her lips, and Link shovelled it into his mouth as fast as he could. Midna ate at a pace that was comfortable for her, engaged with Zelda, and steered the conversation towards what she hoped would help the household heal.

"What's it like sharing a birthday?" Midna asked.

Zelda groaned. "We didn't get separate parties, so we always argued over what we wanted to do, then we'd be forced to compromise." She burst into a fit of giggles. "Oh Link, remember when we combined rock-climbing with high tea?"

Link mimicked little Zelda's aghast tone. "Why is it raining finger sandwiches?"

Zelda slapped the table as her eyes crinkled in mirth. "I still have no idea how you and Ganon smuggled an entire tower that far up the wall."

"Simple. The tea wasn't high enough, so we fixed it."

The laughter they shared died in seconds. So many of Link and Zelda's childhood memories were tainted not just by the death of their parents, but the corruption of the third member of their trio.

Still, Midna was determined to keep lifting their spirits every time they fell. "At my thirteenth, I helped my cousin steal our curtain drapes. Wanna hear about it?" The twins nodded eagerly, and Midna launched into the tale behind the gown that got her cousin into fashion school (though she tiptoed around the part her father had to play).

By offering herself as a pillar to uphold these fragile relationships, Midna saw the twins' demeanour slowly liven, if only on a surface level, and possibly for Midna's sake. It made her worry what might happen when she was inevitably forced to leave.

Despite Midna's many invitations, Impa refused to say a word, and neither Link nor Zelda made any effort to include her.

Once everyone's bowls were empty (even Impa's, though no one saw her take a single mouthful), Zelda excused herself to her room to "catch up on homework" when they had none. Impa insisted on collecting all the dishes, and Link was suffocating under this roof. "Wanna go out?" he asked Midna.

She gasped dramatically. "Oh my, after snogging for three weeks, you're finally asking me on a date?"

Link scoffed. "Way to make me sound like a player, but yeah. Let's go on a date."

Midna hummed and tapped her chin. "I accept." The police had Link's address on file, so it wouldn't be long until her family tracked her down. Might as well give them a chase.

After Link lent her a pair of shoes, they scurried down the stairs and almost tumbled into the garage in their excitement. For just a few hours, they were going to escape this home of mistrust and go on their first public date ever. Even with the heaviness of what had happened in the past twelve hours, it was freeing to not hide anymore.

Midna settled onto the seat behind Link and leaned over his shoulder. "Where are we going?" Her breath tickled his cheek.

Link pressed the device attached to his bike and the garage door coiled. "Dunno. Thought we'd improvise."

Midna pecked his cheek. "This is why I love you."

Link craned back to catch her lips. "I know."

"Ah-hem." It was the fakest clearing of one's throat that Link had ever heard, but Midna? She knew that sound well. The door continued to lift like a curtain, first revealing the billowing white skirt, then the manicured nails perched on her hips, and finally the expression of someone who had just bitten into a lemon but was too stubborn to express how sour they found it.

The glare Solaria gave Link made him small, and he continued to shrink as she marched up until her shadow fell over him. Maybe he shouldn't be so intimidated, but this was the woman who married Tahk Ozul. This was another villain of Midna's abuse story. Link bowed his head. Avoided her daggers.

"Sweetheart," Solaria sharped at her daughter. "You've had your," she eyed Midna's borrowed clothes, "fun. It's time to go home."

Link couldn't let Midna return to a violent home; not after how much she dared to rebel for his sake. When he opened his mouth to object, she whispered to him. "It's okay." She was scared. It was in the waver of her tone and the reluctance of her receding touch, but she couldn't protest her inevitable departure, and he couldn't insist that she stay. Not without incurring a dangerous wrath. He would just have to trust that she would be okay for a little longer.

Despite the mounting dread of whatever awaited her, Midna held her head high as she sauntered down the driveway to the black family car, but her mother did not follow. She was still glaring down at Link, as if something especially nasty tottered on the edge of her tongue.

"Thank-you for your sacrifice," she all but spat, then with a swish of her skirt, she too descended towards the car.


What wonders a good night's rest did for the conscience. For Zant, last night's mess was nothing more than a bad dream now. No one suspected him. Not one. He could murder, and he could get away with it. His superiors were pleased, and they promised him more power and rewards, should he continue to kill for their cause.

Of course, villainy wasn't the only part of Zant's internship. There was a rather ordinary element to it as well, and one of those assignments was creating a sales report on Malo Mart's apparel. Ever since that ridiculous light spirit made headlines destroying their supplier, a new wave of "concerned citizens" had begun boycotting their brand. They not only had a crisis of production delays, but unsold stock. Two very contradictory problems to anyone uneducated on the fast fashion business model.

Mr Vaati was not concerned though, so neither was Zant. The Zoras could keep their precious lake, but not for much longer. Not when Vaati Incorporated was on the cusp of a new world where they would no longer have to do their little marketing tap-dance for the masses.

For now, though, the tap-dance was necessary, not just for business, but for family matters too. That was why Zant chose to work at the dining table with his flat lay of notebooks, stationary, and screens as he diligently tap-tapped on his laptop.

Soon, at least one of his parents would return home, see how hard their son was working to get ahead in the world, and they'd fawn over his efforts. They'd tell him he was so much better than the one who kept embarrassing their family. Midna had stormed into the police precinct in a hospital gown? Imagine that! And the paparazzi were there to capture it. Surely this was the last Zant's parents would tolerate. They'd give up on her and focus on showing off Zant instead. Wouldn't that be nice?

Heated arguing approached the front door. It was time for his theory to be tested.

The door swung wide as Midna stomped through. "For the last time, I make my own decisions!"

"And your father and I can only accept them if they're the right ones." Solaria slammed the door behind them.

"You have a pretty screwed sense of 'right'. Link is the literal saviour of Hyrule, and he still isn't good enough for you."

Zant continued to keep his head pointed towards his work, though his ears were trained on every bicker the women threw at each other, waiting for when Solaria might think to focus on the child who wasn't such a disaster.

"I didn't see a hero," Solaria sneered. "I saw a snivelling little coward."

"Well excuse him for having flaws and fears like any other person. You have no idea the things he's gone through. The things your husband put him through."

"Oh, don't act like your little fling with Hyrule's shiniest boy toy is superior to nineteen years of marriage," Solaria snarled. "You're just the fangirl who got lucky, and you got lucky because that so-called hero is using you for a little revenge plot."

"Urgh, come off it. Our relationship has nothing to do with Dad's fragile ego. It's about us."

"Is it? Is it really? You think I haven't gone through your little phase?" Midna's jaw dropped. "Oh yes," Solaria drawled. "I was just like you back then. Riding off on their motorcycles. Fraternising in the woods. They said they loved me, so I spread my legs, and when they were done, they dumped me for Girl Number 8. When I met your father, everything changed. I finally had security and commitment. I finally had self-respect. Something you clearly lack."

"If you're confusing me for a projector screen, then you're stupider than I thought."

Solaria gasped. "Midna! How dare you speak to me that way."

"Hypocrite! You made an army of strawmen, and I am done fighting them all." Midna stormed past the dining table, thundered up the stairs, and slammed the door to her room. Solaria slumped against the nearest wall and buried her damp eyes in the balls of her palms.

Wow. What a show. And not a single scrap of attention was spared for the child of the household who was doing things right. It was always about Midna. Midna's successes and Midna's failures and Midna's scandals and Midna's future. In her explosive presence, Zant was nothing more than her shadow.

That was why she needed to go.


Me from three-ish months ago: I planned on including a gag that, when I conceived of it, was single-handedly responsible for me only getting five hours of sleep that night because it was that funny, but then the scene in Link's bedroom just had to be SO SAD and now it looks like I won't get to take the piss out of anything for a while. Fuck it! The characters aren't the comic relief anymore. I am! Look at me so emotionally unhinged by this story and fucking laugh, I beg you! Aaaah!

Also me from three-ish months ago: *writes joke about Link and Ganondorf having the highest of teas on a rock-climbing wall* Okay, I feel better now.

For some reason the emotions of this bloody chap stuck with me even when I stepped away from the keyboard. And no, we have not chopped Link's mental health yet. I've just been sharpening my knife. Ready your tissue boxes for next week, folks!