Not so long ago, there had lived a kind princess and a fierce warrior. To their acquaintances, what brought them together might not be immediately obvious. One was soft as spring and her words were of wisdom. The other was as rugged as her homelands and spoke with her sword. To those closer to either, although their meeting had been little more than diplomacy, it held no mystery. A Queen to be and a Chief in waiting, each holding no duty dearest than the one to their people, each eager to avoid the fraught tension which had often characterized the relations of their kingdoms.

Yes, their meeting had ben borne of obligation, but their friendship had flourished from respect. They were, they had found, quite similar in their differences. Kindness, after all, extends beyond words and strength lies in much more than a sword.

These days, there lives a little bird who would have much to benefit from this knowledge. But she's as steadfast as her mother and as head strong as her father. Her head might nod in attention, but her heart won't listen. How could it? Grief has made it bruised and duty has made it lonesome. Such notions are as unfathomable to her as the powers she so desperately seeks.

She has her mother's smile, her little bird. If only she could laugh as freely.

"He kissed me," the then princess had told her once, her smile barely concealed by the violets she hid behind.

"Given your long list of suitors, you may have to be more specific than that," Urbosa had replied.

That had gained her a frown.

"The only one who matters."

"Well, well, well...finally found his courage, did he?"

But the Queen-to-be was wise and knew when to ignore her friend. "I'll marry him," she said instead.

"Have you told him that?"

An eye roll. "I have been telling him for months. He's only just agreed."

"Your mother will be thrilled. 'Dull as the floorboards yet brash as the bells,' I think she called him."

"Mother's never thrilled. And she thinks he should want the kingdom as much as the princess, while Rhoam, well, he wants me despite," a glimmer in her eye then, and shadow turns to smile, "He'll storm the castle and take me with him if mother says no."

That had made it Urbosa's turn to roll her eyes. "Your guards will have him for a pin cushion."

"Then I'll protect him with my light," she had said in that tone that bore no argument. "Truly, you must believe me, he is cautious, but he's not unyielding. He will make a good king. I would not marry him if I did not believe so. I can only hope mother will see it too in time."

"And we can only all hope that he is better at ruling than he is at courtship. All this time, and the best he has to offer is to storm the castle?"

"I'm almost sure he was not serious," the princess said with a laugh,"besides, how would you go about stealing a Princess, oh great strategist?"

"Easy," the Gerudo had said with a wave of her hand, "Your castle is full of passageways and hidden paths. More to the point, the one that leads from the library to the docks. It's not unreasonable that a broken-hearted princess would want a book with which to distract her mind. It's poorly guarded, your library, and you know all to well how to access the path."

"The docks are well guarded, however. I could not pass them without being found."

"You need not be invisible, my dear. Only...discreet. The less you are seen, the later your absence will be noticed, which would buy you precious time. They are your guards, not your jailers. And very few things scare a soldier as much as princess' tears," she said with a laugh.

"From there, well, it's a short walk outside the Castle gates, where a friendly face would be to greet you."

"His?"

"Hardly. The man stands out like a sore thumb. No, he would be waiting for you at Kakariko. That old bat of an elder has always had a soft spot for you and your pretty light. You could be wed by your Goddess' statue. That, and the elder, would grant it the necessary legitimacy, should it be contested."

The princess' brow had furrowed. "That is a very detailed plan. I see but two issues – how would the princess know when to escape and which friend may be so trusted that they would not reveal something of that magnitude."

She had smiled then, a knowing look than came with a wink that princess never saw, suddenly transfixed by the flowers in her lap.

"Urbosa...tell me you have not...he wouldn't..."

"He is talking to your parents as we speak. We believe they will be in possession of that wisdom your family is known for. But if they aren't and you have not worn them down a month from today, then I will be waiting by the gate at sunset."

There had been no more words then. Just the scattering of violets as the princess flew to wrap her arms around her friend, her face full of joy and the air filled with laughter.

The echoes of the past were always stronger within these walls, and the memories bittersweet. Yet she returned to it, as much as her duties allowed. The desert was her home, her people her passion. She was made for it – the day heat that ran in her blood and the night chill that steadied her in battle. The town that filled her soul with laughter. But to these walls she returned, bound by affection to a friend long gone and those she left behind – the cautious King who lost his Queen but kept the kingdom and the little bird, grounded by the weight of her own wings.

Her heels clicked on the damp walkway of the docks as dusk turned to torchlight. An unconventional entrance, for an unexpected request. She had no need for invitation, but those she received, came in the writing of the young princess, her news of ancient machines barely disguising the plea for companionship. But Rhoam, Rhoam had long hardened under prophecy, and the weight of it had made him too proud for pleas. So a summons by the King, with strict instructions that she was to come immediately and with no communication to the princess, was the last thing she had expected.

It did not bode well.

Deep in the guts of Hyrule Castle, after the walkway had turned dry, past the soldier's quarters, laid the cells. Deeper still, below water level, where even the sounds of soldiers' spars won't reach, laid the dungeon. Not many yet living knew of its existence, far less its location. A forgotten remnant of a darker past, that all, especially the Royal Family, would rather keep buried.

Yet, that was where she had been summoned and that was where she found him, his figure unmistakable even when half in shadow. It had ben almost a decade since she had learned of this place. Almost a decade of its housing a sole, silent occupant. A thin, dangling thread to her dear friend's death. Their single thread of hope. To even be here again made her heart chill.

"You have sworn me to secrecy twice," she told to his back, her arms crossed. "Once in love, and once in grief. And I do not suppose you are of a mind to remarry."

"He's dead," he said.

His voice was flat, but she started anyway. It had been a very long time since she'd heard that tone. No echo there, but that of a barely buried grief. No booming pride in this King. Just an old man, who had hoped too long for answers that never came.

Damn it. Faint the hope may be, but it was hope and if there ever was a score she did not wish to take to the grave unsettled, then this one was it. She muttered a curse to the Seven Heroines that would usually make Rhoam's eyebrows dance, but it barely seemed to register.

"How?"

"In his sleep, I am told," he said with no conviction.

"You have reservations."

The King paced the space in front of the cell, his large figure hunched in worried thoughts.

"I had Impa inspect the body. And the cell as well."

"Then you have told her?"

"She has seen the body and the cell, but was not told what we suspected him of, no. She was...shaken, at learning that the dungeon was in use, but I trust her to keep silent and I needed her particular expertise."

No wonder, she though. She would hardly be the first of her people in these dungeons and one of the few coming by invitation.

"She is Sheikah," she warned, as her eyes followed the lines that marked the King's face.

They were written in sleepless nights and a pain that a decade could only dull, but never fully erase. Etched by a prophecy that threatened to consume his kingdom while taunting him with previous victories, that grew increasingly unlikely to be replicated, at least in his mind.

But her present concern was the betrayal – on both sides – that had followed this victory and that had never quite been forgotten by either. Rhoam would be far from the first king to succumb to ire in his fear.

"And he is – was – Yiga," something in her stare brought the pride back and for a moment his eyes flashed. But it was gone as soon as it arrived, replaced by exhaustion.

"I am not about to repeat old mistakes, Urbosa. The Sheikah are, and have always been, loyal to the Royal Family of Hyrule. The Yiga are murderers. The root, however, is the same. And so is the magic."

This seemed to mollify her. The last thing they needed now was for yet another war, for irrational bloodshed, while the Calamity's shadow hung over their heads. She threw her hair back, relieved at his answer.

"What has she found?"

"Nothing. No traces of poison in his system. No injuries. He was slightly underfed, but nowhere close to starvation. And no traces of spells in the cell itself," the man's fists curled at his side.

"No reason, in fact, why he should be dead."

That earned him a bitter laugh. She could provide little else. The Yiga were a growing torn at her side. Wherever their hideout was, the Gerudo's inability to locate them had made them grow bolder in recent years. Oh, how she wished she toss the lot to a molduga...and yet, whatever crevice of her desert they had taken residence in remained a mystery, despite her best efforts.

And this one in particular was less than the shadows that scurried across the desert. On the Queen's sudden death, all new faces around the castle had come under suspicion. Everyone that could not be vouched for – either by longevity at their post, by family or acquaintances – had been rounded. Not many. They had barely been a handful, the whole ordeal quickly and discreetly organized and executed by those guardsmen most trusted by the King.

Rhoam had told her later that, had the man not attempted to resist, he might have very well have escaped. As it was, the attempt at the usual puff of smoke was all the proof anyone had required. In his grief, the king had ordered the dungeon reopened. But the incantations on the walls had only succeeded in keeping the ghoul in place. No matter the spells, the interrogations, the...unorthodox methods applied, the man had never uttered a single word.

The few who knew of it had been sworn to secrecy, all of them, sufficiently loyal that any penalty was wholly unnecessary. Whatever rumours had existed had been squashed. To all of Hyrule, the Queen had been taken by sudden illness. It had not been a difficult lie. No traces of poison had been found in her either.

And here they stood. All these years later and no better off than if that puff had been successful. Worse, perhaps, for the years of hoping he would crack, for believing he might hold the answers that they needed.

"What is on your mind, Urbosa?" Rhoam asked with a pointed look. But she only shrugged as she walked past him and let her hand relax on the scimitar that she had been mindlessly holding.

The cell itself was sparsely decorated. A pot, a cot and four walls. That had been the man's world for all of these years. She let her hand brush against the cool wall. Not once had the Yiga made any attempt to release him. Until now. If this had been an attempt at all.

"A man does not just die of no apparent cause," she said at last. "And yet, we have no answers."

"Do you feel anything on those walls, any trace..." Rhoam's voice was low and he did not face her as he spoke. Bile rose at the implication in his words.

"I control lightning. I have no magic otherwise, as you very well know," she said, her voice carefully neutral.

"There are legends. The Gerudo have held magic in the past. Not often, not all, but you would not be the first."

Anger rose in chest and she spun around to face him.

"Rhoam..." her voice was a growl. A warning. Twice in a day this man was scratching at old wounds. She shared his grief. His frustration. But some wolves are better left resting. Peace was thin as it was.

"If there is a possibility, I must explore it. If there is a way to stop this Calamity-"

"As you do with Zelda?"

"Don't," his objection echoed in the empty corridors. Final. The booming king had finally returned to the tired man and anger crept across his features to match her own. Torchlight cast shadow in his face, as certain as it reflected in hers, as old, bloody tales pooled on the floor between them and the image of a golden haired girl, swallowed by water in her exhaustion, clung to the front of her mind.

The king was the first to raise his hands and look away.

"I do not doubt you, Urbosa, nor the Gerudo. You have been -" a hesitation - "a loyal friend. A good friend, all of these years. I know how much you miss her."

Ah, Rhoam… saying it with all the joy of someone who just swallowed a nail, of course. Regardless...

"There is a 'but' in your words. Spill it, King of Hyrule."

"I do not believe it to be a coincidence that the Yiga have taken residence in your desert. Not when the Calamity once took the form of a Gerudo."

Sand and steel were within her. Lightning and fury. Had she not suspected the same?

"The reports of their activity continue to increase. And now this. The Yiga are getting bolder," she said.

"And you know who they serve," he finished.

"Zelda -"

"Must be told nothing of this," he said, preemptively dismissing her objections with a wave of his hand. "If what we suspect is true, then it must be a sign that the Calamity nears. This...matter, is not her concern to have. It would only be a further distraction when her focus must remain of her prayers. My daughter must awaken her power, and sooner, rather than later."

The old, stubborn fool, she thought. She knew her words were wasted before she even spoke them, but her for her Little Bird's sake, she must try.

"Knowing what the threat is would allow her to be on her guard. To be vigilant. And she deserves to know the truth about - "

"She will be safe as long as she remains in the castle," the King cut her off. "I will make sure of it."

"Like her mother was?"

The king rubbed at his eyes. Her outburst had been nothing but a low blow at losing an old argument and they both knew it. But he answered her, anyway.

"We know better than we did back then. We had no reason to believe that the Yiga would attack us directly. Now we know that they can and will. Which means we can prepare."

"I have recalled the Hero to the castle. He must remain in my daughter's proximity at all times going forward. She will not be pleased," he said with a weary smile, "but she will be alive."

Ah, yes, she though. She had wondered when this fabled hero would be making an appearance. Tales of his prowess in battle abounded and yet, even during his sporadic visits to the desert, all knowledge she had of him remained second hand. She should not be too hard on him for this, however. Her little bird's silence on anything that concerned him told her she might have hand in the hero keeping himself sparse.

"I shall meet him, this time," she told the king with a hand to her hip and a look that entertained no arguments.

"I see that Zelda is yet to make an introduction," Rhoam told her with a smile, more amused than weary this turn, "be kind on the boy, if you will. He already has my daughter to contend with."

"Worry not for you hero, Rhoam," she smiled back with a wink, "I only wish to know the man that will be responsible for my Little Bird's safety. I'll return him to you in one piece."

The King could only shake his head at that.

"Come," he said, "it grows late and you must be tired from the journey here."

She followed him out of this damp, dark place, neither of them sparing the now empty cell another look. Echoes of the past were always stronger within this walls, yes, but the past was done. Nothing she could do would return her dear friend to them.

Tonight, she would rest from her travels. She would eat and drink. Reminisce with Rhoam, listen to what advances Zelda had to share regarding the Divine Beasts.

But, in time, old debts must be repaid. She caressed the hilt of her scimitar as torchlight faded behind her, a promise on her lips. For the old King. For her Little Bird. For the honour of the Gerudo. The Yiga would yet fall. She would make sure of that.