Zelda had never been particularly attached to clothing. She wore dresses at home that had been sent to her by her father, exceptional cashmere, and fabrics to denote her status. She'd been gifted jewels to wear around her neck. Her shoes were often heeled to make her taller than she already was.

She lived her life in fine dresses, in silk nightgowns, in braided hair and soft makeup.

But to see herself in the clothes befitting someone from Outset Island had Zelda shuddering.

A pinstripe skirt of grey and a pale yellow cinched at her waist and was kept tight against her with a belt. A white, loose linen shirt with long sleeves kept her modest, thought the buttons almost seemed designed to show off parts of her that she was eager to hide. Thankful for the corset, she kept the new, properly fitting one on snugly, thankful that it was no bodice, or she'd be at risk of her sleeves slipping off her shoulder on occasion. She kept the braid Riju had done for her, but she'd tightened it a bit.

It felt wrong, like she was wearing Link's coat all over again.

She didn't know what Nabooru had done with the old clothes she'd been wearing. She didn't particularly care. There had been a curtain she'd been allowed to change behind once Link had paid for these new items. And Link had, in his own way, assured her that she looked much less like a target than she had before.

She should feel all set, ready to wait this out until her father's rescue came for her and Paya.

But something was still wrong, and she couldn't muster even the enthusiasm over the thought of rescue.

It wasn't long until the market stalls thinned out, and the path began to show evidence of her bootprints joining the many others' who'd travelled that same path that day. Each step dragged sand with it, until she was standing entirely on a beachy shore.

The warmth of it radiated up in the sunlight, warming her legs even through her shoes. Zelda stared at the sand longingly, hit suddenly with the desire to kick off the shoes she wore and let her toes wiggle with the unfamiliar sensation of walking barefoot in the sand. She'd been on beaches before, but she'd never been permitted that indulgence.

Bending down, she dragged her palm along the wet sand, smiling softly at her print just before the water washed it away with a small lapping wave. The sand rolled back towards the ocean, joining the vast, wide sea for its new adventure while she was stuck here, waiting.

And as she watched the waves lap against the shore, she grimaced at the thought of getting caught in a wave and dragged away in the rip current, but longing for that same pull to forcefully take her from where she'd grown roots. She longed to throw her head into the water to cool down from the already-unbearable heat, but to whip her hair around? Unladylike. To endure heat and suffering, as the Goddess did? That's admirable. To do less than the Goddess herself was willing to do was bordering on blasphemy, and not for the first time, Zelda wanted to curse Hylia for enforcing a lifestyle that tears away the very essence of life itself: living.

She remembered one night in Hyrule that she and Mila had gathered with several of their friends to rendezvous at a nearby pond with calm water and a shallow depth, nothing like the endless ocean she stared into from the beach. Each of her friends had some tie to the sea: Zelda's father was the Governor of an island. Mila's parents were key operators in the shipping industry of Hyrule, and both girls were intended to be sent to Windfall someday. Swimming was almost a necessity in their eyes, even when Hyrule called it an indulgence for anyone who didn't work directly with the water.

She and her friends spent hours afloat, dresses ruined and soaked through, learning how to properly move their arms to keep them from sinking, to make them move, and eventually, to effectively push one another under for a good laugh.

Something felt right about laughing back then. Something in her chest that now made her feel ill at ease. Something that had been violently ripped away by Impa and several others who pulled each of the girls from the pond, having been informed by another girl who didn't want to participate in such a rule-breaking activity.

Zelda and the others had been dragged through the streets of Hyrule the next day after having water dumped all over them before being paraded around town barefoot and in their cold, wet clothes to remind the girls that, like the people of the town, the Goddess saw all, and she was bearing witness to their shame.

Now, Zelda reached for the water, pulling her hand away just before it could touch her fingertips. With a heavy sigh, Zelda wiped the sweat off her brow. How could something so enticing be so horrible all at once? A beach with sand. A sea of water. In theory, they were harmless, but Zelda couldn't look at them without seeing something more.

While she hadn't appreciated anything from the day they'd landed, only eager to sit and pass her time by, she headed back around and took in the full view of the beach. It was a long expanse of sand, sure, but she'd failed—in her apathy—to realize just how incredible it truly was.

She could scarcely believe her eyes; much like the market streets, the beach was essentially its own miniature town.

There were longboats lining the waterline, ferrying crew back and forth to and from their ships out in the distance, anchored in the bay. Ships that could take her away in her dreams, dreams where she and Paya could sail a sloop away from the island with no help from anyone and arrive back home with the pride of having gotten there on their own. But dreams were meant to be woken from, and Zelda kept her eyes off the bay, lest the pain of knowing it would only ever be a dream consume her.

Docks of wood with nets surrounded the outside mooring poles. The trees were spacious, but Zelda noticed the precarious placements of several huts and tents that had been set up strategically underneath the long fronds.

A poignant smell in the air was a decided mix of salt water and… other things. No matter what the initial smell was—be it the smell of food or smoke or poor hygiene—not long behind was always a hint of salt from the sea tinging the air. Numerous fires lit the beach, some straight pyres built up with several people crowded around, and others inside carefully corralled areas where fresh food was being made. It was sometimes too much, and the burn in her nose had her making a face and looking away.

But there were some houses a little way up as well, and Zelda could guess what at least one of them was. She glared at the building, watching many of the disembarking crews head straight towards it. She didn't even need to distinguish if it was a tavern, or a brothel. She had a strong feeling it was both.

"Wow," she breathed, tripping for a moment in the sand before steadying herself. If anyone noticed, they paid her no mind. The sand wasn't a surface she was accustomed to walking on, with the give each step allowed under her weight.

Zelda stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the tents they passed, a tourist if ever there was one. She saw them with their tattoos and their scars. She saw their bald heads, and their braded hair that no Hylian would dare to sport, entirely foreign in a way that both intrigued and frightened Zelda.

The able-bodied crew members dealt out a deck of cards, whooping in excited joy as they slid a bag of rupees to their side of the table. Zelda flinched at the noise, ready for a fight to break out and somehow land her inside it. But instead, they all laughed and dealt out another hand. Older crew roasted meals over a spit, having long since seen their last boarding of a prize ship. There was a mix that Hyrule would never have allowed. Older men were forcibly retired from service, and new blood was constantly being brought in.

She figured that Hyrule commanded about 600 military vessels scattered across the Great Sea, with more in production. She'd heard this bragged about at parties and seen many of them in and out of the harbor. With a fair guess to how many were on this side of the sea, she could reason out that only a small number was actually around locally. They primarily protected the mainland, and engaged in skirmishes with neighboring kingdoms. Captain Dragmire had been a particular boast on the matter of conquering in battle in the name of Hylia.

But if these pirates fought Hyrule all at once, she had a sinking feeling that Hyrule's naval pride would lose to this ragtag group of ruffians of men and women who had everything in the world to fight for, and nothing left to lose.

She was only brought out from her thoughts when she felt a nudge against her shoulder.

"You staring at everyone makes you look like you're new on this island," Link chuckled. "Remember: as much as you can help it, don't stand out."

"A child, a Hylian, a pirate… we're doing a poor job of blending in," she muttered, tripping again.

"You get used to the sand after a while," he said unsympathetically.

"Is that Momma?" Riju asked excitedly, bounding from toe to toe.

"It is. Go fly to her, Little Bird."

Riju took off down the beach until she crashed directly into Urbosa.

Zelda squinted against the sunlight as she nervously fisted her skirts, her eyes roaming the beach frantically.

Link leaned into her. "I can see Paya from here. She's under the canopy." He pointed, and Zelda followed.

Sure enough, Zelda could see Paya with a book in her lap, far from everyone else. She stood only to see what was happening with Urbosa.

Despite her foot slipping in the sand again, Zelda ran for Paya almost as fast as Riju had run to her mother. She threw her arms around her friend and clutched her tight.

Paya, on the other hand, shrieked.

"Paya! It's me!" Zelda said, pulling away.

Her eyes widened and then slowly trailed over Zelda, stopping specifically on the wounds at her throat, and the clothes she wore.

"Goddess, Miss Zelda! What have they done to you?" Paya held Zelda by the arm, and though her grip was tight, Zelda longed to melt into Paya and simply exist in a moment outside of time, outside of their situation. But there were many eyes on them, and she'd looked weak enough. She wasn't going to look any lesser than she already did by having a meltdown, no matter how much her clenched chest begged for a flooded release.

"I'm alright. Are you?"

"I'm not the one dressed like some filthy pirate! Goddess Hylia, was it that one who dragged you away who did this? Was it the scarred one? They didn't… they didn't hurt you, right?"

"No! Nothing like that, Paya. Captain Urbosa saved me from some other pirate on another crew who knew who I was. He knew my father. He wanted me dead."

"They all want us dead," Paya muttered, looking around. "Maybe not today, but in general. I won't hesitate to say the feeling is mutual." She grabbed at Zelda's skirt with the tips of her fingers and let it fall. "You deserve the finest clothes, Miss. Not these filthy rags."

Zelda hesitated, and her fingertips ran over the delicate skin of her throat, remembering the way she couldn't breathe when that man choked her.

Maybe… had she made a bigger deal of it in her mind than it truly was? Paya didn't seem affected.

"They're comfortable, if nothing else. But they'll keep me safer than being dressed as though I were in Hyrule. You may even consider doing the same. I'm sure if I spoke to—"

"No! Goddess, Miss Zelda, no! I will keep this on, thank you."

"But Paya—"

"No. This is more than an outfit. This is Hyrule, civility, and home. This is me. I'm keeping it. If it just means more work on their end to keep brigands out of this camp, I hardly care about the practicality of announcing who we are. I don't quite care who ransom's us, so long as they get us home."

Zelda's lips twitched up in an attempt to smile, but she struggled to hold it there. Instead, she sat down in the space beside Paya and looked out at the water, watching the waves lap calmly at the shore.

Simply by sitting beside the familiar presence of Paya, Zelda felt a sense of serenity wash over her. Admittedly, she expected a bigger reaction from Paya upon her return, but something about her overall detachment also felt like home, even if it didn't feel exactly like Paya. So, overall, it comforted her.

"At least here it's peaceful," Zelda mused. "Unlike aboard the ships, the water doesn't look like an enemy trying to drown us."

"An ally, hopefully, surrounding our enemy," Paya muttered as she picked up her book again. But she couldn't focus, instead eyeing Zelda's throat. "They're disgusting. All of them. The Goddess will make them pay for their crimes, you know. Your suffering won't go unnoticed by Her."

"Nor by my father, hopefully."

The book was heavy in Paya's hands, and she sighed. "I wish I knew how fast they travelled. The remaining crew of the Wanderlust must have reached Windfall by now, right? We'll be safe soon?"

If weather and wind were in their favor, Zelda figured they should have arrived already. She'd studied that much in preparation for her crossing to Windfall using books from the library that she'd snuck out and read only in the glow of the moonlight without Impa noticing. But as to the rest, there was nothing she could say to soothe either of their worries. "I don't know, Paya. I wish I did."

Paya sighed and set the book down, shaking her head, her tired eyes heavy under their lids. "Where did they keep you for the night? Were you safe there?"

"There are children on this island, strange as it seems. I stayed with a family on the interior with a little girl. I was safer, at least." Zelda figured it might be best to leave some details out of the story, if only for Paya's sake. Namely, the brothel, and who's house she'd stayed at. Not only did she have a feeling Paya would be improperly shocked, as Zelda was but without the dangerous reality to snap her back into functioning, but also because she didn't want to be looked at with the leering eyes that would follow. Sure, she'd done nothing, but she'd certainly seen something, and that was enough to earn several judgmental looks and opinions. Zelda would be corrupted now, in Paya's eyes, if she only knew. One step more off the path of the Goddess.

"Safe? This island is not safe. Never presume that you are." Paya looked around cautiously, looking for someone to jump out then and there. "But I'll do my best to protect you, Miss Zelda."

"It's my job to protect you," Zelda laughed, though it was barely enough to pretend she was happy. Paya's cheeks tightened, and Zelda eyed her warily. "What did you do?"

"I've done nothing. I've simply been paying attention."

"But to what?"

"It's been very busy here since you left. I don't know if they're all as close as they appear."

"Miss Zelda!"

They both turned toward the voice.

Mipha jogged through the sand—rather gracefully, much to Zelda's slight jealousy—and set something down before gingerly pressing her cold fingers on Zelda's neck.

Zelda couldn't help but flinch, and Mipha smiled empathetically. "I'm sorry. Believe it or not, it looks much better than it did yesterday. Does it hurt?"

"A bit," Zelda admitted quietly.

"I have a few things for you." Rummaging through her bag, Mipha pulled out a potion and what appeared to be some sort of lotion. "Did you sleep well?" she asked, making polite conversation as she poured several things into a mixed bowl.

"I've slept better, and worse."

"That's thinking positive in a bad situation!" Mipha smiled. There was nothing forced about it, unlike Zelda's. Mipha had to be the single happiest person Zelda had ever seen in her entire life.

"Once," Mipha continued as she dabbed some of the cream on her hand and then rubbed it onto Zelda's neck, despite her visible flinching, "I had a very bad experience here, much like you. I wasn't new, but I kept to myself much more than I do now. I went to find Sidon, though, and I walked right into a dispute between Link and another pirate. Can't remember what it was about now though. But I was taken, because they knew I was Sidon's sister, and that Link and I are close. Captain Urbosa and Link took care of it in a meeting with that crew's captain and quartermaster. I still don't know what was said, but I was released. And after that, I learned to fight so it would never happen again."

"I won't be doing that."

"I didn't think you would. I just wanted you to know that a lot of us do understand, on some level, what it is to be captured by someone, and to have your fate in others' hands."

"Am I supposed to feel sympathetic?"

Mipha smiled a tight smile before returning to her work. "No. No, I suppose you wouldn't. I just hoped you'd understand that you're not as alone as you feel, in that regard."

Zelda felt like an object, thrown around. She was a jewel to be sold, handled only with the necessary care that one of value had.

At least they were valued by each other on this crew. It was hardly a question of worth.

And now, Zelda knew her only worth was monetary.

To some extent, she'd always known this. She was expected to marry for status. That, in itself, was an exchange of goods, with her being one end of it. She was expected to be proper and kind and reverent. She was to be an empty shell who knew how to make good conversation and how to be a good host. And then, one day, she was to have a child for the sake of the future, and raise it to fear the Goddess and to be a good little soldier for her army of devout worshipers to lead in whatever direction they wanted.

Another exchange of goods: a child for them, and a purpose for her.

She dropped her head into her hands and sighed, refusing to apologize, but feeling guilty all the same. Because everyone had taught her to feel guilty for snapping at people. Why wouldn't they? It was impolite. What perfect Hylian was impolite?

Maybe Mipha meant well, but she would never understand. Zelda had been alone forever, because that's what Hyrule had asked of her. She'd given up friendships and family connections, she'd lived with a governess who was her only confidant, and if she were to confide in her, it meant she'd be met with a stinging palm strike to the face.

But her world was familiar, and she knew how to navigate it. Despite it all, that was where she felt safest. Surrounded by all these alleged 'sympathizers,' as Mipha would have her believe, was far worse than being left to herself.

"Mipha," Link's voice called before he came into view and tossed a brown sack at her that clinked when it landed in her hands. "Enjoy."

"Thank you. Are you… going back… there?" Mipha glanced nervously to Zelda, choosing her vague words carefully.

Link chuckled, his eyes drifting to Zelda as well before shaking his head. "Once was enough this time through town. I have other plans for this." He shook his pocket, and there was a clanging of metal. "Do you need anything before I go through the accounts? I can allocate for more herbs both for medicine and for meals, if you want."

"No, I'm all set with everything we've already discussed."

He nodded to her, and then once to Zelda. She looked at him with blatant confusion written all over her face. It only made Link smile wider. "Literate and an accountant, Miss Nohansen. Are you impressed with me yet?"

"Go fix the books, Link," Mipha laughed, shooing him away. "I'm sure she's seen enough of you already."

Link scoffed. "She most certainly has."

Zelda's face reddened, and she turned her eyes off his playful gaze and onto Paya's curious one. Without context of the brothel, Zelda figured that didn't make much sense. And she wasn't planning to volunteer that information.

With a final smirk, Link nodded to Mipha. "Let me know if anything changes, okay?"

"Yes, Sir!" Mipha laughed before turning back to Zelda with something in her hand. "Okay, I have this here. Put this on for the next few days and it will help with the discomfort. I'm afraid the bruise will still show until it's healed."

Zelda watched Mipha drop the mixture into her hand and then set it in the sand beside her before bunching her knees up to her chest and staring out to sea.

"Well," Mipha said with the most hopeful sounding voice she could, "You know where to find me."

Glancing at Paya, Zelda sighed. "Do you remember Agitha's Tea Party shop? I last went there when I injured my arm. I took out my rupees, set them down, and ate everything I could afford with what I had. I don't even remember anyone being with me; I just sat there and ate it all. I wish I were there now."

"I've never eaten there, Miss."

"No?"

"Too expensive."

Zelda scratched her head and then ran her fingers through her hair, embarrassed she'd even brought it up. "Oh. I'll have to take you the next time we're on the mainland."

"I would like that."

Eyes were on them from all around. The entire crew glanced at them at some point, and Zelda felt the burn each time. Though she couldn't hear what they said in their hushed whispers, their occasional glances in her direction spoke loud enough for her to know that she and Paya were the focus of conversation.

"I've never felt so important," she muttered scornfully to Paya, looking away from prolonged eye contact with one of the others.

"You've always been important, Miss. Our world was just bigger. You didn't have the opportunity to hear or see it all."

Shaking her head, Zelda's shoulders sagged, and she looked around. "You know, I don't believe it was bigger. Hyrule looks so incredibly small now, knowing there are entire… worlds out here."

"This is still Hyrule. They've just forgotten how to be civilized out here."

"It's Hyrule in name only. Hylia can't be found here."

Paya picked up sand and let it fall through her fingers, watching it like the turned hourglass. "That's why there are those like your father: good men and women who fight to return Her to these forsaken lands."

"If She's the one who left them, what makes my father believe She'd ever want to return? Perhaps if we just left them here, kept them from our kingdom… maybe they'd just die off?"

Laughing, Paya rested her chin in her hand. "What wishful thinking."

Back home, Zelda would stare at the ocean for hours, admiring the beauty of it all. She'd watch the sunrise, and sometimes, she'd find the sunset as well, though it was a bit harder with an obscured horizon to the west. She'd watch the clouds billow through the sky, and wind rustle each of the smallest branches. The waves crashed against the dock, or easily lapped against the boats that were moored in the harbor.

She'd return home after, marveling at the way the Goddess had cultivated the perfection Zelda had just witnessed. She'd sacrificed all so that the likes of Zelda could enjoy the peace of a stroll to watch the fish jump, and the birds caw.

Never did Zelda think she'd grow to hate it all.

Each morning, she woke up with the sunrise in her face, a harsh light beating down on her until she either flipped onto her stomach to cover her eyes, or simply succamb to the bright alarm. And once she felt the warmth, she heard the endless rushing of waves as they banged again and again into the sand, as if they could go anywhere else. The wind blew her hair into her eyes, and she had to blink it away. Sunset held no appeal, and the colors did nothing for her once she came to know them as part of her routine.

The birds were a nuisance.

The fish were taunting her with their freedom.

And the Goddess was lording it all over her head.

"Zelda."

She looked up from her usual place in the hot sand and glared at the man above her.

"It's Miss Zelda, or Miss Nohansen," she said automatically. After several days of correcting Revali on the beach, she'd given up caring, and only answered because it came out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"You look terrible."

"Thank you."

He huffed and crossed his arms. "Fine then. And here I was, ready to help you with that hideous burn on your shoulder now that it's dark outside. But it seems I'm not wanted."

That caught Zelda's attention.

After days of being in the reflective sand, heat beating down on her, she'd become somewhat of a magnet for the rays from the sky. Her shoulders were red and peeling. When she was alone with Paya, she dared pull them down to give her freezing burn some air, despite risking more sun, but when she was around others, she kept long, sweating sleeves on. There was no winning.

Revali smiled at her, a crooked and cocky smile that she'd become immune to. At first, it rattled her and she wanted to hit him. But now? She couldn't care less if he was feeling smug or superior. It was simply him, his state of being.

"Then, it seems that I'm not wanted… but that I am needed."

Zelda rolled her eyes. "You're not. I'm handling it."

"Suit yourself."

Revali strutted off in the direction he'd been heading before, leaving Zelda to cover her shoulders with her palms, despite the sting to the touch.

Her throat still bore ugly bruises, but they were much more tolerable, as was the rest of the pain in her body. Except for the fact that she'd traded one pain for the other.

Carefully, she stood up and sank into the sand, shuffling over to the fire pit Mipha relegated herself to.

"Is there really a remedy?" Zelda asked without any preamble.

Mipha looked up. "I'm sure there is, but may I ask what sort of remedy you want?"

"Revali said he has something for my sun burns."

She smiled sympathetically. "It's uncomfortable, but it will fade. Nothing but time will cure them, but I'm sure he has something to ease the sting of them."

"I'm freezing. They're called 'burns,' yet I'm shivering."

"Have you never been burnt before?" Mipha breathed. Zelda's skin had burned on day two on the beach, and it had steadily gotten worse with each passing day.

"I have not. Or, not severely, anyway."

"It will fade; I promise you."

Zelda huffed, thinking about what their promises were worth. "I don't care if it fades," Zelda muttered, her fingers grazing over her skin as gently as she could. "If I go home, I can take care of it."

"Yes, you can when you go home. We aren't keeping you with us forever, Miss Zelda."

"It's starting to feel that way."

"That would defeat the purpose. I know that doesn't sound encouraging, but maybe it's a little bit of a light at the end? Knowing that you have to go home for us to accomplish anything, anyway."

Zelda sighed and sat down in the sand, burying her head in her arms. Talking was tiring her out, and instead, she closed her eyes. Mipha seemed to understand, as she stopped prodding for conversation.

It was only when Zelda's eyes were closed that she really smelled the salt of the sea permeating the air, tainting a fresh breath with a taste not unlike tears.

Water had always surrounded her, but she'd had a tumultuous relationship with it, much like most everything else in her life.

She wanted to swim home now. She'd risk the tides if she could.

"Where might I go for a moment alone?" Zelda asked, turning to Mipha desperately. Mipha looked back skeptically, and Zelda's face fell. "I won't run, but I need just a moment."

"Miss Zelda, I really can't allow—"

"Goddess above, please. I'm suffocating here. Do you think I'm going to try to swim off the island this time? I'm certainly not going to some other horrid pirate crew! At least I know your lot will feed me."

"That's a frightfully low bar we've set."

Zelda almost wanted to smile but couldn't muster it.

Biting her lip, Mipha looked around the area. She was mostly alone, cleaning up the meal she'd made for the crew and working with what she had left to send to the interior of the island to Nabooru, Riju, and several of the other family members scattered about the island.

She gestured to her left. "Alright. Follow that path straight and you'll reach a small area of the beach. Few people go there. Stay within shouting distance. And if one of the others questions you, tell them you need a moment to relieve yourself in private."

Zelda's eyes bugged out. "Really?"

"Go on."

"Thank you!" Zelda breathed, lifting her skirt so she could walk through the sand with as little difficulty as possible.

The trail was short, as Mipha had promised, and there was a small cove with its own private beach.

Private, but occupied.

Zelda crossed her arms in front of her chest and walked closer to the rising tideline.

Link was hunched over, his bare feet dug into the wet sand, wearing the sand over his feet like socks, his pants soaked as the tide rolled in and out in a steady, rhythmic motion. He didn't seem to notice, or at the very least, he didn't care that he was being playfully prodded at by the steady rolling waves.

In the glint of the moonlight, she could see the reflection off a large bottle at his side, nearly empty from the looks of it.

Though she knew she should head straight back, she felt that of all people, Link might not spill her secret excursion, so she decided to make it worth it. She quietly made her way over to him and watched as he obliviously stared into the waves with a blank expression on his face. Even from this far, she could smell the reek of alcohol on him.

Here Link was, alone, more than a little drunk, and inattentive.

And she could feel the weight of Revali's knife in her pocket still.

"I used to stare out at the sea when I was a boy," he said abruptly, apparently more aware of her than he appeared. She jumped at his sudden story. "I'd sit on the edge of the cliffs by my house until the sun rose. Thought it was fucking brave to go so near, you know, like kids do. I'd take Arry out there with me, and we'd laugh together at shit things despite the Goddess' fucking judgment that all joy be damned. I'd sneak her back home before…" he trailed off, his mouth opening and closing with silent words, his eyes blinking slowly. "…before my parents woke up. Sometimes, I didn't beat the clock to save myself and I would find a tree and sit under it, pretending I'd fallen asleep while I was working on chores. When our mother or father came by and found me, they'd send me to bed because they were impressed by my dilig-diligen… hard work. Me, working hard. Hardly working, more's like it."

Link smiled, though he still didn't look up at Zelda.

She was about to respond, opening her mouth perhaps with a quip, but he kept talking, and she felt her mouth close again. "I was never fit to be a damn servant of the Goddess, I don't think. Not really. Not in the way Hyrule would have asked of me, anyway. This will be hard for you to believe, knowing me, but my father wanted me to settle down in the village with a nice girl and to just be. I was supposed to have a much calmer life, close to my family but far enough to start my own. Take over the business and become a tradesman. Fat chance of that, but it's a good fever dream sometimes. What would he think of me now? If he could see what I've become, how many I've killed, who I've kidnapped, the lengths I've gone to for… well, he'd never recognize me. It's the hair, I think, that would throw him off the most."

Zelda's lip twitched up, much to her dismay. She bit her cheek and forced her carefully schooled blank expression back onto him. "You lost my sympathy with 'kidnaping', not that I really hold with the rest of it either."

He chuckled miserably. "I would—would never try to take on such an impossible venture as to have your sympathy, Miss Nohansen. I am who I am: I'm the monster in your stories, and the demon in your head. I doubt anything I do will ever change your mind, and that's alright with me. I'm not a fucking priest. Thank the Goddess, for Her sake."

Zelda took a few steps towards him and crossed her arms, unsure why she was even bothering to listen to his rambling. Perhaps it was because she'd so rarely seen anyone drunk. Wine was common, but most Hylians she kept company with knew exactly when to stop themselves.

Maybe she was simply intrigued.

She shook the thought away as quickly as it came.

Link adjusted his legs, though he kept his toes in the sand. "There are times I actually enjoy speaking to you, did you know? Truly. I hang on your every word in those moments. But there are times when I do—I do hate you, though doubtful it's as much as you hate us."

"Most doubtful."

With a wide swing of his hand, he grabbed the bottle, the small amount of liquid splashing against the glass with his haphazardly wild hand movements. "You are everything I can't stand about Hyrule. And your father?" He took the final swig and let his arm hang limply over his leg, the bottle crashing gently into the sand. "He's the one man I want to kill but can't."

Zelda's eyes widened at his threat, and her hand went back to the knife before she realized she was holding it.

"Don't worry," he slurred, sounding too happy for the topic. "It's a mutual feeling. He'd have me drawn and quartered before you could say, 'isn't that Link about to die up there?' You wouldn't say that, though. You'd say 'Mr. Woods.' I don't mind. But that man wants me and my own to die more than anything else in this world. Like father, like daughter? You'd like that, I think. But still, you're not him. Not yet. You're prettier." He smiled at her, lopsided and with some of his hair spilling from under his bandana, which didn't look tightly tied. "Sometimes, people just need to talk to someone who… isn't an empty bottle."

He kicked the glass over with his foot, perhaps a bit harder than he intended to.

"My father is a good man."

"He's a murderer, just like me."

"He follows the Goddess and She wants him to—"

"You're trying to blame the Goddess for everything, but you need to learn how to accept that sometimes, shit is their fault. He's a murderer, Miss Nohansen. He kills men and women, and he feels great pleasure when he does. We're no different, except he acts with the law as his shield, and I don't have shit on my side."

She licked her lips, annoyed and attempting to hold her tongue the way she would at any party back home when she disagreed with something. "This is going nowhere."

He shook his head, wagging his finger at the same time as if to prove a point. "I don't think so. I think you're starting to hear us, and it's scaring you. The real scary thing about piracy isn't the murder, but the realization that the world isn't black and white. Hide behind the Goddess all you like, the truth is still there."

"One can always hope for a better world. There's nothing wrong with believing that the Goddess only wants us to create it."

Finally, his eyes drifted to hers, glassy and glazed. "Hope is dangerous, Miss Nohansen. It drives you forward until you've fallen right over the edge without seeing it. It propels you onto a path you don't want to go down. You become someone else to chase the high of feeling like something will work in your favor…for once. And then it's there," he said, holding his hand out to the air, "right at your fingertips… but just out of reach."

She let out a long breath. Though he was drunk, something about him changed, like he was no longer talking to her. And out of everything he'd said, that was the most intriguing.

He blinked for a long time, like it was hard to open his eyes once again, but when he did, they landed on the knife at her belt. "I'll admit, I may pity you for your relentless attachment to hope. It'll get you nowhere. Did you ever think you'd be standing over me, considering how easy it would be to end a life? One quick jab to the neck, and I'm done. Your dearest papa, Governor Nohansen, would keep you safe from facing any punishment for it. Blood on your hands that you can wash away because Hylia told you to do it."

"I am not thinking about that," she said quickly, stepping away as though his words had been a physical slap. "I would never!"

With a long sigh, Link laid back into the sand just as the water rose up, soaking the back of his shirt, catching all of the wet sand into his long hair, splashing his face. He was stretched out, tilted his neck back, and closed his eyes, entirely at peace.

"Why not?" he muttered sleepily.

"Unlike you, I'm not a monster. I don't kill people for fun, or just because I can."

He shot her a quick look, a mix of amusement and skepticism. "We're all monsters, Miss Nohansen. There's one inside us all, including you. We just have to be put into a place where we no longer care about the consequences, and the monster will be free. It's so much easier than you think."

Zelda didn't feel like fighting him on this. He was clearly drunk, and from his tone, he sounded fairly set on this notion. She wasn't keen to waste her breath in a fruitless conversation about souls, or the Goddess, or morality.

She settled on curiosity instead.

"I asked you once if you were afraid to die. Now, I wonder if you're simply embracing it. Asking me to try to kill you? Drunk beside the rising tide?"

He didn't open his eyes, but he did smile just as another rush of the tide hit him, pulling at his clothes, lapping over his ears. He almost looked like he didn't plan to get up, even as the tide rose higher. She couldn't look away, wondering what it must feel like to have the waves caressing her, or even holding her up against the threat of a bottomless abyss.

Turning his neck a bit more, his skin taut and revealing a faded scar from a long past fight, Link seemed to shrug, if one could call the movement that. "If you want to do it, do it. I can't promise you I won't fight you off, but I can't promise you I will either. I'm tired, Miss Nohansen."

"You're just drunk."

"Not enough, it seems."

Zelda huffed and stared out at the horizon, spotted with emerging stars through the purples and yellows of night and day converging. "Have you spent the last few days surrounded by a string of lovers who have made you too tired to go on? You have no care, no worries. You've told me as much. You're free out here; free from the Goddess, from the king, from expectations. How exhausted you must be."

Running his hands through his wet hair, Link turned into the tide as it rushed at him, letting his face submerge in the water for a moment before he wiped the sand from his eyes. When he opened them again, they were bloodshot, but he looked a little more awake. "Urbosa and I have been at this for a decade. We're both tired. You're our last real hope."

"For money? Is that truly your plight? It's a pathetic reason for your crimes."

"What do you think we need the money for? You can't truly believe it's so simple. You're far smarter than that, and you can't try to play dumb now. Not now that I know you."

"You don't."

"Oh, I think I do. You want an answer. A real answer."

Zelda waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. Instead, he sat up and shook his hair out before standing, if a bit shakily. He wobbled and then took a step away from her, the bottle hanging loosely in his grasp.

"Where are you going?" Zelda asked, suddenly far more curious than she'd expected to be. And colder at the loss of company, no matter how vile the companion.

Link's expression faltered, and he just shrugged, shaking the glass in front of her. "I'm off to find another bottle and someone from my 'string of lovers' with all my blood money earnings for killing the crew of the Wanderlust and taking her cargo, like all monsters do. Enjoy the rest of your night, Miss Nohansen; I know I will."

A/N: Excuse me bursting out of my hiding place where I've been for months, apparently. I'm going on vacation soon, which means I actually get to write again, and I can't wait to write this more than once every four months! The next wait won't be as long, and I can get the plot going much more!

Reviews: Kaizen- I DID DELAY THOUGH! I'M SO SORRY! I'll do better next chapter! Zeedry- That honestly is a perfect quote! I think I might have said that I wanted to replay Black Flag, but I didn't, and now your comment has me back to wishing I was! yeahidbdjn- She's definitely seeing a broader horizon. Whether she's open to it or not, who knows?! Alice-Ann Wonderland- I wanted pirate Zelink, but not quite Wind Waker kind of pirates, so I had to make one myself! And I feel you! I also came from a religious family with uncomfortably strict views, and that was a lot of the inspiration for Zelda and Hyrule, so Zelda has to go through it now! She'll need therapy too by the end of this, I think!