Heyooo! It is Monday once again (I know I'm sorry) and though it was garbage for me, I hope y'all had a better time of it. So here you go, hopefully you all enjoy it!

" . . . n. . . . sen. . . . Hazen."

"Hazen!"

He gasped, jerking upright. His throat closed abruptly, and he started coughing, turning on his side. His arms pressed into the stones on the ground, dislodging more dust. When he finally got himself together, he spat and stood up.

His knees buckled, and he staggered into something hard. "Hazen!"

"What happened?" he croaked, struggling to focus. Everything was blurry, but he couldn't tell if that was because of him or if it was from the coating of dust all over.

"The mice are gone. I think . . . they think you're dead."

That got his attention. He looked at the girl--Irene--beside him. "They think . . . what?"

She opened her mouth, but abruptly lightning shot through him, and Hazen yelled out and fell, which only made the sudden pain worse. He arched his back, trying to keep still, trying to pinpoint where the pain was coming from. Grunts and broken sounds reached him, and it took a few moments to realize they were coming from him.

"Hazen!"

He opened his eyes, finding Irene right there. She had tears in her blue eyes, and she reached out a hand hesitantly, as if unsure if touching him would make it worse. "Where--where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," Hazen groaned, shutting his eyes.

"Okay hang on, hang on," Irene muttered. "Just--just stay awake, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hazen managed, trying to control his breathing. She took his hand, and he began to feel himself settle, and then pain lanced across his palm, and he let out a short groan.

"I thought you were helping," he said loudly, banging his head into the stone to distract himself.

"I am!" Irene shot back, voice rising in pitch. "Don't yell at me about how I do it!"

"Then do it in a way that doesn't hurt more!" Hazen shouted back.

"How about you just be grateful that I'm even helping! I don't have to, you know!"

"No," Hazen snapped, mustering the energy to sit up and glare at her. She glared back hotly, the picture of anger despite the tear tracks on her soot-stained face. She held a bloody knife in one hand, and her other was glowing. "You don't, but it would sure be nice if you did!"

"Too bad you got the mean doctor," Irene hissed, and shoved him back down onto his back.

"Ow!" he roared, hoping he hurt her ears.

"Good," he heard her mutter mutinously, voice shaky. "Just--" Then she clenched her fists, bowing her head, and let out a strangled scream. She looked at him suddenly, and the angry retort died on his tongue as he noted the glistening of her eyes. She sniffed, silently going to work, and Hazen put his head down, closing his eyes with a sigh. As her hands started glowing and the minutes passed, the silence dragged out.

He debated just keeping quiet, especially since he was concerned he'd only make it worse, but Irene still hadn't told him what happened, and they needed to get going.

So he asked her, bracing himself for a snappy response. But she surprised him.

"The mice were attacking. You jumped in front of me, and you got hit."

Her voice was quiet. Belatedly, Hazen realized the pain had faded to a dull throb. He sat up, watching how she refused to meet his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Irene said, in a carefully neutral tone. "Are you feeling better? We should move on before something else comes along to kill us."

Was that a joke? Was she making a joke? He couldn't tell. Irene stood up, extended a hand down to Hazen, and he took it slowly. Once on his feet, he hopped from one to the other, testing his agility.

He looked at Irene. "What did you do?"

"I healed you."

"How?"

She sighed aggravatedly. "Does it matter? You're fine, now let's go."

"Yes it matters," Hazen argued, running a little to catch up. They were climbing a slope through the canyon, the walls rising high on either side of them. "I want to know."

"Why?"

"Because when I think about it, I distinctly remember being blown up, and I feel like I haven't even left the castle," Hazen snapped, his patience running thin.

Irene just scoffed without looking back. Hazen felt the frustration rise to a fever pitch, and clenched his fists, shaking them at the back of her head. Gods, he thought, glaring at her. She and Dinsel would be best friends.

Dinsel. Hazen felt the frustration fade as soon as it had arrived, replaced with a swell of homesickness and guilt. How long had he been gone? Weeks? Months? He couldn't tell anymore. They'd spent at least a month with Wild Link and Zelda. Plus travel time between worlds . . .

Nearly two months away from home. Zelda and Link were probably losing their minds, he considered, finding it funny, in a morbid sort of way. If I ever get back alive, they're going to kill me, he thought, and paled.

Stupid Majora. All Hazen had wanted was a relaxing ride in the woods with his friends, and now he had to save the world. Worlds. He sighed through his nose. His mind ran itself in circles, wondering when his family had noticed something wrong. The twins probably would have celebrated. The thought brought a small smile to his face.

He didn't notice, but Irene had turned to glance back at him, and found him smiling. Her eyes widened, and she faced forward quickly, oblivious to Hazen's true thoughts.

Nayra would have cried, he knew that for sure. She was the baby, even at seven. But even so young, she'd learned how to con the servants. How many sweets she'd blackmailed from Batreaux by fake-crying . . . Hazen let out a chuckle.

The first few days would be business as usual for his siblings. Then . . . they would realize something wasn't right. Would his parents have called the Alliance to find him? Hazen wondered. Perhaps an emergency meeting of the Summit? Perhaps his mother had gone out to search for him herself.

He was so mired in his thoughts, in missing and worrying about his family, that he didn't realize Irene had stopped. He smacked into her back, and only by grabbing her arm did he steady himself.

He ignored the glare she sent him and stepped around her, gaze fixed on the sight before him. "You've got to be kidding."

Irene sighed deeply. "How are we supposed to get past that?"

"Link didn't say anything about a bloody cliff," Hazen snarled to himself, digging through his bag to find the map Link had given him, along with the instructions. "Show the Garo Mask to the Poe Collector, and he will provide a target for the Hookshot," he muttered, shifting on his feet. Something clanked in his bag, and he dug through it to grasp something metal and cold.

Hazen fished it out. Irene peered over his shoulder to see the Hookshot sitting in his palm. She came around and glanced at his bag. "There's something else."

She pulled out a mask, the strangest one yet. Irene grimaced, holding it away from her. "Creepy."

"Creepy is what we need now," Hazen said, taking it from her. He examined it a moment, and after a short hesitation, put it on. "How do I look?"

"Stranger than usual," she deadpanned.

"Ha ha."

A raspy laugh sounded then, bouncing around them until they couldn't tell where the source of it was. They turned in circles, until Hazen grabbed Irene's arm and pulled her to a stop. He turned her around and approached the cliffside, where a hooded figure sat on the edge. Where there hadn't been anyone a minute ago.

"Yeeheehee . . . That's a nice mask you're wearing, but you're not the one who usually wears it."

"We're . . . friends of his," Hazen called. His voice echoed off the walls of the canyon, reminding him how weirdly quiet it was.

"Oh, I know," the figure, whom Hazen was assuming was the Poe Collector, said, not at all uncomfortably. His voice was slow and quiet, hoarse as if it hadn't been used in days.

"Whose mask was it?" Irene asked.

"Oh . . . That was the mask of the leader of the ninjas who lived in this canyon. They spied on the hilltop castle with the bloodstained history. With that," and here his voice went a little dark, "you may be able to call upon the spirits that even now are still wandering . . ."

"R-Right," Hazen said, sharing a look with Irene. She looked as disconcerted as he felt. "We'll do our best."

"We'll see what that will mean . . . in time," the Poe Collector said. "Here is your target."

He waved a hand, and a tree rumbled out of the ground beside him, dead and pale as the rest of its surroundings. Hazen took Irene's arm again and slipped the Hookshot on, aiming it at the trunk of the tree.

The jolt was different than he was used to; he had played with his father's Hookshot on multiple occasions, and had used it to drag the twins--usually Dinsel--out of trouble several times, but this one was . . . different. Perhaps it was one of the first of its kinds? More power and less direction, he thought. After all, there were several--many--generations between the Era of Twilight, which his father's Hookshot was from, and whichever era this one was from. Era of Weirdness, maybe.

They slammed into the tree and sprawled on the ground in a heap of grumbling and dust. Hazen was the first up, pulling Irene to her feet. Ahead was an uphill road, complete with rolling boulders. One rolled right past them and fell off the cliffside, smashing into pieces on the ground.

"Perhaps you may be able to save the souls that wander around here," the Poe Collector said, with another raspy laugh.

"How can we get to--" Hazen turned to him, but the hooded collector was gone, and they were alone.

They walked in silence.

They'd gotten past the rolling stones with minimal effort, avoided the dirt-monsters with faces by sprinting straight through, and now walked. The stone had turned to grass underfoot, making the going easier on their feet.

Hazen shoved his hands in his pockets, casting a side-long glance at Irene. Was she angry? She hadn't spoken since the Poe Collector vanished. She didn't seem angry, more . . . thoughtful, perhaps. But he'd learned that nothing was ever as it seemed with Irene.

Come on, Irene, he thought, turning his gaze to the sky. Was she upset that he'd yelled at her while she healed him? He hadn't meant to; he was in a lot of pain . . . and now that he thought about it, he realized with sinking guilt that he'd never thanked her for it. She was right--she didn't have to heal him. She didn't have to do a lot of things. But she did.

"Thank you."

She glanced at him, mildly surprised. Then she faced forward, without speaking, and Hazen worried even more. Should he have said it earlier? He definitely should have. He should just not talk to her anymore--give her space to--

"I killed them."

Hazen nearly tripped. Irene was still relaxed, calm as could be, watching the road ahead as they walked. "The mice," she clarified. "All through that pass, up to the cliff. They were everywhere. I didn't know what to do, and then you got hurt, and . . . I killed them."

She took a breath, lifting her hands. Tiny sparks flew off of them, white and gold and red. "I've never killed anything before," she said softly, so soft he could barely hear her. "Not even a fly. And now . . . this, and you, I . . ."

Was she saying it was his fault? He studied her, watching her eyes follow the trail of light the sparks gave off as they fell to earth. No, he considered. She wasn't blaming him. She wasn't blaming anyone.

"Irene . . ." He approached cautiously, as if she were a wild animal that might spook. "It's okay."

"Why?" she asked, meeting his gaze. She tucked her hands away. "Why is it okay for me to kill and not them?"

"Because our lives were on the line," Hazen said, confused.

"What about them?" Irene was growing hysterical. Her eyes glittered with sudden, bright tears. "What if they thought their lives were in danger? What if they were only defending themselves? What if I killed them for nothing?!"

"And what about us?" Hazen shouted, spreading his arms. "What about me, huh? Do I look like nothing?"

"No!" she shouted, closing her hands into fists. "But I--it's not even about the damned mice, it's--attacking Majora, and--I can't--"

"No," Hazen growled. He stomped forward and took her hands, gripping them tight. She tried to pull away, but he held firm, glaring into her red-rimmed eyes. "No more of this. Look at me, Irene."

She did so, trembling like a leaf. "I can't kill things," she whispered. "I don't want to be a killer."

In her gaze, behind the guilt and anger at herself, he saw the fear. Fear that she wouldn't make it through this, fear that she wouldn't return to her Gram. Fear that this adventure would change her irrevocably.

Hazen adjusted his grip on her wrists, instead taking both her hands into his own. "You're not a killer," he said, softly, feeling his own anger drain away. "You never will be."

"You don't know that," she whispered.

"I do know that," Hazen insisted. "Because I'm living proof of it."

This close, he could see all the different shades of blue in her eyes. "You healed me back there. You help people. Not hurt them."

She stared at their hands, and Hazen felt that flare of sensation in his chest as her eyes raised to his, and she sniffed. "What if I have to hurt others to help them?"

Hazen clutched her hands tighter. "Then that changes nothing." She scoffed, trying to pull away, but Hazen held her firm.

"There's something my mother used to say," he said, and her eyes turned back to his. "She used to say that she'd rather kill to protect the people she loves than kill for no reason. She believes that having a purpose for violence is what makes it bearable. She doesn't want to kill either, but if she must, then she will."

For a long moment Irene didn't speak, and he wondered if he'd made it worse. She stared into his eyes, and he felt a little of that madness inside again, stirring. He held himself firm, unwilling to let it win. Not yet, he thought. Not here. Not now.

"And," he tried, swallowing nervously, "if you have to protect people that way, then they'd better be damn grateful for you."

Irene let out a surprised laugh, cheeks dimpling, and Hazen felt some exasperation creep into his smile. Of course she dimples. Of course. Not fair.

They fell silent. He didn't want to let her go just yet, and she seemed content to rest a little. He turned their hands over so her palms were exposed, calloused and smooth in a pattern that was all hers.

"It's your hands," he murmured, running his thumb over the skin. "They weren't meant to hurt people."

Irene's lips parted, her fingers twitching. She looked up at him, and suddenly their faces were inches apart. Hazen swallowed, hoping she couldn't hear his heart pounding. He'd promised himself he wouldn't press her, but she was close, and he was sharing in her heat, and she was reaching for him--

Her fingers brushed his cheek, finding the bruised skin there. He'd been cut by a falling shard of rock running from the dirt-monsters; he'd actually forgotten it was even there. But Irene hadn't.

She ran her fingers featherlight over the cut, and with a breath they began glowing. Delicious heat suffused his face, though he couldn't tell if it was entirely from the healing or from her closeness.

Her hand came away, leaving a lingering trace of warmth, and slowly the world came back into blaring focus, the rushing water, call of birds, whistle of wind, until they jerked back from one another, eyes wide.

Hazen took a few breaths to get some air back into his lungs. "We sh . . . we should probably get going," he breathed, feeling like he'd rather do the opposite.

Irene nodded, looking winded. "Right."

A single, solitary awkward moment passed--then they both launched into movement. Desperate to alleviate the sudden tension, yet finding her so discombobulated a little adorable, Hazen said, "We should head toward that platform."

Reaching its general location wasn't the problem, they found. Reaching the actual platform, however . . .

Hazen let out an aggravated groan. "Why is everything in this place so bloody difficult?"

Irene stood at the edge of the river, studying the platform around ten feet away, the Octoroks in the water, and the rushing river between them. "Stand back," she said.

Hazen gave a curious glance, but did as she said. Irene raised a hand, already glowing a pale blue, and ice shot from her palm--right into the Octoroks. They froze into solid rectangular chunks, and she grabbed his hand. "Jump!"

He already saw her plan. They leapt from the river's edge to the first frozen Octorok, to the second, and then to the platform--and just in time. They unfroze right as Irene's foot cleared the platform, and with their prey out of reach, they sank back beneath the water, bubbling mutinously.

"What now," Irene asked.

"Now we Hookshot," Hazen answered, looking back down. "Hang on."

Irene did so, suddenly quiet, and Hazen tried not to let it get to him as he pulled the Hookshot out and aimed it at the tree above them. They shot forward as aggressively as before, slamming into the tree with a grunt, but at least neither of them fell. Hazen turned them and they flew again, higher. On the last one, he aimed it a little off on accident, and he smacked into the trunk.

His grip on Irene loosened, and she bounced out of his grip with the impact, directly towards the edge of the cliff they stood on. "Irene!"

Hazen yanked the Hookshot from the trunk and lunged, grabbing Irene from the edge of the cliff and spinning away. They landed on the ground with a thud that stole the breath from his lungs--along with the fact that she was now on top of him.

Hazen looked up, saying a prayer in his head, because Irene's face was inches from his, again. The Goddesses are torturing me, he thought, swallowing. She was so close he could kiss her--which, the longer they were together, the more he wanted to do.

Irene seemed frozen, as frozen as the Octoroks, and then she was scrambling off him. He took the hand she extended down and let her pull him up. "S-Sorry," she stammered, turning away quickly. "Which way now?"

She seemed anxious to change the subject; Hazen found he agreed with her. "That way," he pointed, and she set off briskly.

Amazing how different I can feel about something within less than two minutes, he thought, following at her side. This is karma for being an ass earlier.

They followed the path, avoiding the mummy-like things lingering by the houses. "What are those?" Irene murmured, as if sound might attract their attention.

"Gibdos, Link called them," Hazen answered, voice low. None of the Gibdos noticed them creeping through their territory, and they made it to the well without incident.

Hazen took a breath. "You ready?"

Irene nodded, hands aglow. "You have the stuff Link gave you?"

"Yeah." His hand closed around the bag, carrying the tools Link had said they would need, especially for the trip through the well. When asked how the hell beans, milk and other random things would help anything, Link had just laughed--a dark, uncomfortable laugh that said they would find out.

Hazen took another deep breath. "Let's go."

By the time Tessen was fit for travel, it was almost midday on the Second Day. Saval bounced on her feet while his wound's dressing was changed. The other bites and cuts had mostly healed, but even with the healing of the Zora, the one on his leg was going to take longer than a half-day to heal completely.

He stood up and shrugged on the shirt Iko lent him, and made his way to where Saval waited.

Say it. Say it. You have to say it.

"You ready?" Tessen asked.

I don't have to say shit, Saval thought. She tried for a smile. "Of course. The sooner we find what we need, the sooner we can get out of the Zoras' fins."

"You will always be welcome in Zora Hall, Miss Saval," Iko said, coming up behind Tessen. They bowed low at the waist, making Saval only a little uncomfortable. She was used to people bowing to her--what she wasn't used to was people who had saved her and proclaiming they were at her service. It felt strange.

As Tessen headed for the door, Saval tried to shake it off. She smiled at Iko as she left, feeling the anxiety of all her worries pile up. When they stood on the edge of the path, staring across the water to the grand stage, Tessen spoke.

"Where do we go now?"

Saval nibbled on her lip as she thought. "We can't go to the temple; Link said that was a terrible idea, even if there were some clues there. I guess . . . just look around here?"

"Can we go in the water?"

Saval glared hotly at him. "You're not."

He just rolled his eyes. "You think the Zora would let those fish in here?"

"It doesn't matter, you're not going to be swimming any time soon with that wound, so shut it and let me think."

Silence followed her words. Saval closed her eyes against Tessen's wide-eyed gaze, trying and failing to calm herself. She'd never yelled at him like that before, or the way she'd shut him out outside. She was growing more and more distressed when it came to him, and she knew why. She had to say something.

"Let's walk upstairs," she finally said, opening her eyes. "Maybe we'll find something up there."

Tessen followed her without speaking, and she tried not to feel too guilty as she trudged up the slope to the second level.

Up above was just a large balcony, nothing of note beyond a lone Zora standing at the edge. "Excuse me, could you--" Saval began.

"Don't talk to me! I'm busy!" the Zora suddenly yelled, and then ran down the slope. Saval blinked after him, then growled to herself and stalked to the edge of the balcony. Tessen watched her quietly as she stared down over the edge, her lips moving but no sound coming out. He inhaled to speak, but then Saval sighed, her shoulders slumping.

She was so involved in her thoughts that she didn't notice Tessen heave a sigh of his own and walk to the walls, running a hand over the coral-like stone. Her anger seemed . . . excessive by this point. He understood she was angry about his injury, the risks he'd taken, but when she looked at him, he saw more than anger. He saw uncertainty. He saw regret, and fear. She thought he couldn't see it, but he could.

So what was it? What could make her so distressed? He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Could it be . . .

Saval turned, and he quickly turned his attention back to the wall. He ran his hand along it absentmindedly, considering, and then stopped. He ran his hand along the same spot again, and again, then dug his fingers in. There was a groove there. Several of them.

"Saval?" he called. She was there in a moment.

"What is it?"

Tessen ran his fingers along the grooves again, following them along until they met in a square.

"It's a switch," he murmured. With a glance at Saval, who nodded, he pushed against the switch for several seconds, eventually setting his feet and using as much body weight as he could without his leg flaring up in pain. Finally he heard a click, and a large section of the wall swung sideways. The light from the Hall illuminated a stone hallway leading down.

Saval squinted. "We won't be able to see for very long."

Tessen looked around quickly, nervous that a Zora might happen upon them. "There's a torch over there," he said, crossing the balcony. A small rope bridge led to a very small ledge on the wall, with two lit torches. He grabbed one and hurried back to the door, glancing over the side of the balcony to ensure no one had seen him. "Let's go," he said, leading the way into the hall.

"Leave it open just a little," Tessen whispered, extending his arm out as far as he could. A moment later he heard the door slam.

He whirled. "I said--!"

"I know what you said!" Saval hissed. "It closed on its own!"

A dark silence fell over them. A voice in Tessen's mind said this was a bad idea, but he pushed it aside. "It doesn't matter," he said, his voice softer. "Come on. Let's see where this leads."

He saw her approach, her face cast in shadow and firelight, and she looked at him. For a split second, her eyes flashed with determination--and then uncertainty crowded in, and she turned away, biting her lip.

"Let's go."

The tunnel sloped steadily downwards, sometimes turning in a slight curve, but after the first two hours, Tessen's vision was bleary enough that he couldn't even tell if they had stopped turning or not.

The only way he knew they were still going down was because his feet slapped into the stone floor, and his knees were beginning to hurt. His leg had begun aching a half an hour ago as well.

He tried not to grit his teeth, if only because Saval would notice, but he didn't seem to be succeeding very much. She shot him glances out of the corner of her eye every so often, worry shining there despite the darkness.

"We're about halfway through the torch," Saval said, her voice a little hoarse. They hadn't spoken much since they started walking.

"Should have grabbed the second one, too," Tessen muttered, trying to keep the pain from his voice.

"Do you want to stop?" Her voice was soft.

Tessen debated it, but then . . . "No," he answered. "We'll just waste the torch."

So they kept walking. On and on and on, until Tessen thought he'd either go mad or pass out before they reached the end. After another two hours, the torch had dwindled down to a tiny flame, until that, too, went out.

"Down to the embers, then," Tessen thought, grimacing. He squinted, limping forward, and promptly smacked right into a stone wall.

"Damn it all," he hissed. Slowly, he reached out, feeling for the wall. His fingers brushed against rough stone, and he eased forward. Acting on a hunch, he felt around what he thought was the center of the wall, and before long he found grooves similar to the ones before. Following the same pattern, he pushed into the center of the switch and the door swung open, just as roughly as the first.

Saval stepped forward on slow feet, lowering the burned-out torch to her side, her eyes dancing over the cavern. It was . . . it was--

"Incredible," Tessen whispered, following her. "What could this have been for?"

"A giant," Saval said softly.

The cavern they stood in was enormous, the ceiling so high above their heads they could not see it, even with the light of the cave walls. Blue, green and even whote light flowed over the stone like water, as if it had been trapped in there by some magic. It shifted constantly, throwing their faces into shadow, and then light, and back again. Saval stepped to one of the walls, running her fingers lightly over the surface. Over the drawings painted there.

"He was here," she said, softly. Tessen came up to her side, his lavender eyes dancing over the picture. The Skull Kid had drawn himself, though without the mask that covered his face, and he wore a hat as well. His eyes were not much more than yellow globes in the center of his face. And beside him . . .

"The giant of Great Bay," Tessen murmured. He let out a short laugh, pushing his hand through his hair. "When the old lady told her story, I didn't know what to make of it. A Skull Kid friends with giants? But now . . ."

"It's real," Saval finished. Her eyes moved to the next drawing, in which the Skull Kid played a prank on an unsuspecting Terminan. She cocked her head, following the string of drawings. They told a story--the same the old lady had told them in the inn. Saval tracked the drawings down the wall, towards the shadowy corner, where she found the last one. It was the giant, standing up and leaving Termina. Leaving Skull Kid.

Skull Kid himself stood and watched him go, and if she squinted, Saval noticed that his fists were clenched.

There were no more drawings after that. Feeling mildly disappointed, Saval turned away. As she did, the light shifted again, and it flowed over the series of drawings, illuminating the last one--and one more beyond that.

Two steps took Saval back to the drawing, leaning so close to the wall she could smell the sea on it. "There's another one here," she said to Tessen, who'd been exploring the other way. "Here too," he called.

Saval tried to make out the image, but it was too degraded. All she could see was Skull Kid, apparently sitting by himself in a field. "What can you see over there?" she called.

There was silence, and then-- "I can't see much, it looks . . ."

He was silent for longer, this time. "Looks like what?"

"Saval, come here."

Unnerved by the change in his tone, Saval did as he said and met him by the other wall, towards the front of the cavern. "What is it?"

He said nothing, just gestured to the series of pictures . . . and the claw marks that sliced through them. Saval felt the hope that had been bubbling in her chest dissipate. "We're too late, then," she sighed, backing up. "He beat us here, a while ago."

"Maybe not." Tessen's voice was contemplative, the voice he used when he and Hazen would brainstorm together. The thought made a tiny smile twitch at Saval's lips. "We might be able to figure out what the story is telling, even with the cuts. Look here," he said, pointing to one. "Skull Kid is there, and it shows something . . . black hovering above him. Can you tell what that is?"

Saval leaned in close. "It looks like a black cloud. I think . . . I think that stands for Majora."

Tessen's brow raised. "What makes you say that?"

"Remember what the old lady said? The giants left Skull Kid--abandoned him here. And the last drawing on that wall is of Skull Kid watching the giants leave. And he grew angry with them for leaving . . ."

"So he spread his anger across the four worlds," Tessen finished slowly, eyes sharpening with understanding. "Then . . . Majora sensed his anger and came down to him--that's what this picture represents."

"Maybe," Saval said. "But, yes, I think so."

"Then perhaps Majora is a god of Termina, like the masks of the giants," Tessen suggested.

"Does that mean Majora is using Skull Kid to exact revenge upon Termina for something, since it's not included in the Carnival? Or is Skull Kid using Majora to extend his anger at the giants?"

"Couldn't it be both?"

"It could be neither."

"No," Tessen murmured. "Somehow I don't think that's it. There's something . . . something about Majora. It attacked us itself all those times--in Kokiri Forest, in Irene's Hyrule, in Wild's home. Skull Kid was nowhere to be found. He has nothing to do with Majora's rage outside of Termina."

"But why does Majora even want destruction of places that aren't here?" Saval asked. "What's his history? This just tells the story of Skull kid and the giants."

"It was here." Tessen pointed to the clawed-out drawings. "Maybe something happened, something that made it angry with not just Termina, but everywhere. We already know that if Termina dies, other worlds will be affected through the time stream. Perhaps it knows that--perhaps it found a way to travel to those other worlds, see what they were like, and decided to destroy them."

"But what is it about them that it hates?" Saval murmured. Neither of them had an answer; they turned and began searching the walls again, trying to decipher the clawed-out pictures, finding second meanings in the others. When they got around to the back of the cave, near the door, they found more pictures, these so degraded and ruined that they were hardly more than scratches.

But one stood out.

"Tessen," Saval breathed. Her voice echoed through the chamber. He was at her side in a moment. "What is it?"

She simply pointed with a finger, tracing along the drawing, leaving a trail of dust in her wake. Around the point, down the side to the hilt, curving over the side and rounding the face. It was the only image on the wall that hadn't been scratched out completely, and even then, four massive lines carved through the face.

"Why, though?" Tessen murmured, laying his hand on the stone.

"Link might know," Saval answered. "It could be the key to understanding Majora."

"Then we should try to find any more evidence to help," Tessen decided, and broke away. He walked along the walls, stared up at the black ceiling, crouched down and scanned the floors, but Saval stayed where she was. She watched him search, her hands drifting up to her neck. It hung there, as it always did. She closed her eyes--she was running out of time. Soon, they would go back to Link and meet the others, and they would be busy saving the world, and . . .

She took a steadying breath. She had to do it now.

"Tessen," she said, and stiffened, her hands tightening around the necklace. He was already looking at her, his eyes flicking from hers to her hands. It very nearly made her back down, but--but no. "Tessen, I need to tell you something."

The burns on her face almost seemed to tingle. She swallowed and stepped forward, until she was within a couple feet of him. His silence unnerved her, made her unsure--was he angry? Did he think she was angry? The incident with the fish came to mind, and she fought back a wince. She was angry about that, but--but it stemmed from something else. Something she had done to herself. Her necklace seemed to gain weight, dragging her hands down.

He still hadn't spoken. Saval's mouth dried up, and she licked her lips uncertainly. Where did she even start? "Wh-when I was . . . younger," she began, struggling to meet his eyes, "I . . . I agreed to something. Between my mother and . . . and another courtier."

Tessen's face didn't change, still cast in that blank, slightly expectant expression. And as she forced herself to look into his eyes, she thought--was that . . . sadness?

Almost distractedly, she continued. "It was before you and I were really . . . friends. Before . . ." Helplessly, she gestured limply between herself and him. His eyes tracked the movement, but still he didn't speak. It was driving her mad.

"I told my mother that--that--" Gods, just spit it out! She thought, tears forming in her eyes. She sucked in a deep breath, the ring cutting deep into her hands, and shut her eyes. "I told her I would marry--"

Hands on her hip suddenly dragged her in, and her face bumped against a hard chest. Saval blinked, tears rolling down her cheeks, dampening his shirt, and she looked up. Tessen's chest shuddered as he breathed in, his hands warm on her back. His voice was strained. "It's all right. I . . . know. You don't have to explain."

Saval blinked. Once. Twice. Struggled to find her voice. "Y-You knew?"

He breathed out slowly, and released her. His eyes were dark, his hand soft as it reached for the necklace. The courtier's signet ring hung from the chain, just as Saval's own hung from a chain around his neck, back in Twilight. "I overheard it from some maids in Duskwatch," he said softly, sadly. "I knew you'd never be mine, so I thought maybe I could . . ." He sighed, running his hand through his hair.

Saval was blindsided. Tessen stepped back, leaving her marooned, wavering, processing. She held a hand to her head. "You knew . . . and you didn't . . . say anything? You weren't angry?"

Tessen cocked his head. He seemed to look through her, almost. "I was angry, I think. In the beginning. I liked you even then, and I guess hearing you say you'd marry someone else told me you didn't feel the same. Then, as we became closer, I saw how upset you were. You hid it well, but I knew you better. But you never said anything."

Saval sniffed, wiping her face. "There was a party," she said. She met his eyes. "Hylia's birthday party. I cornered my mother and tried to convince her to annul it. I didn't want to marry him anymore, I didn't love him, I--"

She cut herself off, but Tessen smiled mournfully. "You love someone else," he murmured. Miserably, Saval nodded. With a sigh, Tessen looked at her, a mere foot away, yet so far. That ring hung around her neck, and all he wanted to do was chuck it into the bay. He remembered the party she spoke of. It had been a few months ago, celebrating his sister's birthday. He'd been searching for Saval for a dance, and servants told him she'd gone to one of the private rooms with her mother. He'd followed the sound of their voices and found them arguing . . .

The uncomfortable silence between them now was what he'd wanted to avoid in the first place. He'd never wanted her to have to choose. He'd never wanted her to feel any guilt--he'd planned on keeping his knowledge of the engagement to himself, in some flawed way to spare her pain, but . . . he could see now that it was a useless endeavor. The more time they spent together, the clearer it became that she loved him--and he her.

She'd have to choose, anyway, that much was obvious. Had been for a while. Tessen had wanted to make her as happy as possible before that choice needed to be made, but then Majora attacked them, and now they were here. He sighed. It was all so messed up.

Neither of them spoke. There was nothing more to be said. So he held his hand out to her, and with a slight hesitation, Saval took it. "Come on," Tessen said quietly. "Let's find a way out of here. We've found what we're looking for."

They began walking towards the door after a preliminary check that there truly was nothing else in the giant room, and Tessen pressed the switch again. Nothing happened. Frowning, he pressed it again, harder, but the door remained firmly closed. Sighing irritably, he released Saval's hand and shoved into the door.

"What the hell?"

A sinking feeling began in his gut, but Tessen pushed it down. But the more he pushed and shoved against the unmoving rock, the more he started to believe it. Snarling, he was about to try again, fruitlessly, when something sounded on the other side. They froze, sharing a glance, and waited. Silence, silence, and then he heard it. A shoe scuffing the ground.

"Hello? Can you help us?" he called, and got no answer. Muttering, he got down on his knees and drew his belt dagger. Sliding it under the thin space between the door and the floor, he angled it this way and that, trying to get a glimpse of whoever was on the other side. The blade reflected nothing but dark stone and--

With a strangled gasp Tessen jerked back, heart pounding. The yellow eyes disappeared, and all he heard from the other side was an impish laugh, and then all was silent.

Breathing hard, Tessen scrambled up from the floor, joining Saval, who had her bow drawn, her face white. Her hands were trembling, but she kept it steady, and Tessen began to draw his sword, slowly inching towards the door.

He shared a brief glance with Saval, and then pushed once more on the switch.

It refused to budge.

His hand dropped. "That little bastard," he hissed. He slammed his hand into the wall, for all the good it did him. "He's locked us in."

"I thought he couldn't mess with us in his own world," Saval said, voice tight. She hadn't lowered the bow.

"We thought wrong, apparently," Tessen admitted, placing a hand on hers. Gently he pressed the bow down, and she sucked in a slow, deep breath. "Or at least, he can't mess much. It seems like this is Skull Kid more than Majora, anyway."

"So what do we do now?" Saval asked. "Link won't know where to find us."

Right. That was a problem. None of the Zora knew where they'd gone, and Tessen had no idea if they knew of this cavern beneath their hall. He was willing to bet Link didn't either, or he'd have suggested this place to begin with. And if they were stuck here until Link found them, there was no telling what could go wrong until that happened. And something always went wrong.

He sighed, meeting Saval's eyes. They were stuck.

I know I say this almost every chapter, but this was my favorite one *gremlin laughs* HAHA

Review replies:

To StJames1: ahh, don't worry. We'll get some of Irene's POV soon enough :) and I think it'll give those suffering from the slow burn a bit of relief ;)))

And as for why Saval is pulling away, *evil laugh*

To Queen Emily the Diligent: hey it's so good to hear from you again! *waves hand* don't worry hahah and thank you! I'm just glad you're enjoying the story :))

Well that's it. Hope you enjoy the angst absolutely everywhere :) I do love relationship strife, as I've stayed many times lmfaoo. Enjoy, and See you next Monday! Ciao ciao