Hi there, welcome to this story! Something you ought to know, I decided to make the Zora age up normally in this. The timeline can get a little confusing so I figured I'd just make it clear from the start: the beginning of the story takes place 18 years after Link and the Champions defeated Ganon (the 100 years of Calamity never happened...), which makes Zelda and the other Champions well into adulthood, while Sidon and his friends are young adults.
Anyway, enjoy :D
Zora's Domain – Southern Terrace
Sidon stood by the Domain's vantage point, overlooking the vast and foreign Hyrule fields. The sun was setting behind distant mountains, casting an ochre veil over the hushed landscape and coloring the winds with a touch of melancholy. He inched closer to the edge, leaning over the ledge as he tried to pick out the figure of a bird from its shadow among a sea of clouds. Perhaps, if he focused enough, he would be able to hear it sing. Even from a distance so great it might as well be an illusion, a mirage born of his own delusion, he thought, as he took in the canvas of the land, that if it was him then surely he could hear it; neither the poem of dusk nor the anthem of night, but the call of yearning.
The muffled sound of webbed feet on stone shook him out of his thoughts. He straightened, suppressing the spark of irritation at the interruption. He didn't turn to look when the feet came to a stop beside him, he already knew who it would be. Only his sister would know to find him here.
"You look excited," she said. He could hear the smile in the fondness of her tone. Indulgent, as she always was with him.
"Do I?" He asked, smiling in turn. His eyes remained fixed to the darkening sky, entranced by its somber aura.
"Yes, you do."
Sidon shrugged. "I believe anyone would be excited at the prospect of attending the Ceremony of the Hero's Blessing."
"Of course," she said. "But that's not all there is, is it?"
He glanced down at her, taking in her keen eyes and knowing lips, and wondered just how much she truly knew. He searched her face as she seemed to search his, looking for a hint of something he wasn't sure he wanted to see in the first place. They kept at this for a fragment of time, until out of the corner of his vision he noticed the last ray of sunshine dim to leave place to the dark, and he broke the contact.
She didn't add anything, so he simply hummed in appreciation. "I wonder."
The Ceremony of the Hero's Blessing. His sister used to tell him tales of the times of the five Champions, among who she had fought with teeth and claws to counter the Calamity. He had been too young back then to fully realize Ganon's threat, or how close they had been to being defeated. Mipha would tell him of the Champions' glory, and as he got older, of their struggle. Sidon had always listened, avid to know more of the world beyond his home's borders and morbidly fascinated by the deadly trials his sisters and her companions had faced. He remembered she would tell him of the Hylian champion, the Hero, the most. Brave, wise and gentle, she'd say, he was the embodiment of her hope.
Once, when he'd asked for the first time how the Hero had fallen against the Calamity, she'd cried. He saved us all, she'd whispered, silent tears tracing down her cheeks, but he died in doing so.
Sidon had felt terrible at the sight of his sister sobbing. He had never seen her show such signs of weakness before, even in her times of greatest uncertainty. It was only a few years later that he'd understood the severity of her pain, when he'd learned of the existence of the scale armor she'd never had the opportunity to give: she'd loved him.
Sidon had seen his sister cry a number of times since then, but never for that man again. At her wedding with Ledo, after she had made her vows despite a quiver in her voice, she had burst into tears she claimed had been of joy. Later, she'd confessed to Sidon that part of it had come from relief. Loving a man that has already gone is hard, she'd said, because a memory can live forever. By marrying the emerald Zora, his sister had finally cut her one-sided bond with a ghost.
She always could do what Sidon couldn't.
"I heard of your squabble with Father," she said after a moment of silence. "Something about the number of guards accompanying you?"
He grimaced. "Father is overprotective. It's compromising his judgement."
"Is six guards that much of an exaggeration? The journey to the Gerudo Desert isn't an easy one," she said, before marking a pause. "The roads have grown increasingly dangerous in recent months. You heard the reports."
"That's exactly why we can't afford to send all of our best men to the lands when we aren't sure of the threat to the Domain." He sighed. "Father should know this better than I do."
"Father is just worried about your safety."
"I know," he said. "But I am only the younger child of the crown. My safety shouldn't be the priority." He looked down at his sister's affronted expression, interrupting her before she could retort. "I am not the priority, Mipha. Our people are."
She seemed torn, disliking his logic for the truth it held, but eventually relented with a defeated smile. "You'd make a wonderful king, Sidon."
He grinned. "Not as much as you will, Queen Mipha."
Her smile faded too quickly for it to be natural.
"I'm not queen yet," she said, barely above a whisper. Sidon watched as she grabbed hold of the ledge, lowering her eyes to peer down at the swirling currents of the Hylia River. He had rarely seen her like this, her expression mirroring the troubled shadows of the water below.
"If," she began, then hesitated. She took a deep breath and looked up, facing Sidon with more determination than he felt ready for. "If I said I wanted you to take the throne in my stead, what would you do?"
Sidon stared, unmoving. He wasn't certain he had heard right, nor did he know how to react if he had.
"Sidon," his sister said, never taking her slanted pupils off his. "You were born a king. You are brave, kind and just, and you have the natural ability to inspire people. Everyone in the royal guard respects you, the councilmen value your opinion, and the people adore you. They know you think of them before you think of yourself, and that makes them willing to follow you wherever you lead them."
She marked a pause, breathing out softly. "I believe you should be the one to become king, and I know many agree with me. Father included."
Mipha was watching him, scrutinizing him, with a calm bordering on agitation. She seemed expectant, perhaps for an answer, or simply for a sign that he had heard her. Sidon couldn't say how long they remained this way, standing still and silent by the shore of the falling night. His senses had numbed, stripping him both of words and the notion of time.
Brave, kind and just.
You are brave, kind and just.
"I'm not asking for you to make a decision right away," she said into the void, brutally bringing Sidon back to reality, "but you should take the time to think about it as you travel to Gerudo Town. You can tell me when you come back." With this, she smiled and stepped away.
As the space before him emptied, Sidon felt a sudden spike of dread.
"Wait!" he called, turning around to catch her arm. "Mipha."
She looked up, waiting for him to continue, but nothing came. His jaw clenched, teeth sharp but tongue dull as it refused to move. His throat was dry and he couldn't think of a single word, couldn't form a single thought, his mind hopelessly trying to catch up with the reality of what she had just said. Of what she couldn't have just said.
She waited but she could see all there was to know in his expression. After a short moment when nothing was forthcoming, she laid her hand over his, ever so softly freeing herself from his grasp. "Say hi to the others for me," she said, and Sidon didn't miss the hint of regret hiding behind her smile.
She turned around and left with a stiffness to her movements that betrayed her hurry.
This time, Sidon didn't stop her.
The sky had turned fully black. An obsidian night as the Gorons said, devoid of stars or moonlight. He cast a glance toward what remained of the horizon, a thin line of unknown that he would have to cross someday. He knew it was within reach, and he knew he would reach it. He just didn't know if he would ever return.
You are brave, kind and just.
Mipha was wrong about him. About so many things. She didn't know, after all.
He rubbed his face with tired hands. It was time to leave.
Another Time – Another Place
His hand twitched.
A flurry of images raced through his head, none of which he recognized. He opened his eyes, taking in the sight of black stone before him. He felt dazed, disoriented, like he'd just woken up from a very deep sleep. Glancing at his side, he noticed a thin layer of water surrounding him. He was apparently laying in a small pool, set in the middle of rugged stone walls. A cave. An unfamiliar one.
Where was this? Why was he here?
He breathed in and braced himself. As he'd expected, movement didn't come easy. Every part of his body felt rigid. He eventually managed to sit up, shivering under the ghosts of the crystalline liquid dripping down his back. After a moment of bemused staring at his surroundings, taking note of the small flight of crackled stairs leading to an exit, he looked down at himself. A simple set of clothes, black pants with black boots and a rather flashy blue tunic, all of which appeared mysteriously dry.
He studied his hands. They were broad but strangely delicate, with long fingers and a pale wrist. He inspected his face next, poking at his nose, cheeks and fringe of soft hair. It all felt familiar, and at the same time, completely new. It was a strange sensation.
A frightening one, too.
The water was unusual. Probably magical, seeing as it didn't wet him for long. But more than that, he thought he could feel it pulsating weakly. Alive, but not really. Alive, but dying.
He shivered.
He stood up, relishing his quickly returning vigor as he did so. He wanted to leave this place, wherever it was. He didn't know where he'd go, but he had an inkling that it wouldn't be long before he found his answers. Dwelling wouldn't lead him anywhere.
Taking a step out of the shallow pool, he headed toward the light filtering in through the exit. The intensity of sunlight was stronger than he'd expected, and he instinctively adverted his eyes, lowering them to the ground.
As he took a moment to accustom his vision to the change, he noticed a tear in the middle of his tunic. It was quite wide, which made it surprising that he hadn't seen it earlier. He sneaked a hand in through the hole without really thinking about it and began tracing his abdominal skin with a finger, finding the feeling of smoothness curiously funny, until he happened upon an unexpected bump.
He stilled, finger still on the unnatural shape. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his tunic up to his chest, and peered down.
As soon as he caught a glance of his abdomen, a wave of nausea washed over him and he had to catch himself on the stone wall to avoid falling. He thought he was on the verge of remembering something, something very important. But at the same time, he felt terribly scared. He didn't want to remember, didn't want to have to face that feeling again, that feeling of–
His breathing picked up, fast and uneven. Painful. His throat closed up and he slid off the wall, buckling over. Images swirled in front of him, forgotten yet so vivid. It felt too real. He hugged his middle. Something there was growing unbearably hot. It was ramming against his skin and bones in time with the beat of his heart, scorching him from the inside all the way to his fingers.
He didn't want to remember.
But the scar wouldn't let him forget.
He remembered.
He'd died.
Zora's Domain – River's Mouth
"Have you heard the rumors?"
Sidon halted a small distance away from the trio of Zora, and lent an ear. He was facing their backs; they hadn't heard him coming.
"Rumors?"
Rivan, the small, ebony Zora leaned in toward his two comrades. "About why Princess Mipha is sitting out of this year's Ceremony," he said.
Sidon didn't usually eavesdrop on anyone, much less his own guards. As the beloved and charismatic prince of the Domain, the gossip concerning him was flattering more often than not, and Sidon wasn't one to thrive on flattery. This time, however, he had the strong idea that the focus of the gossip was different.
He wasn't sure what held him back from making his presence known and cutting the chatter short, as he would usually do; if it was more morbid curiosity, or simple, paralyzing apprehension, for he couldn't help but feel like he already knew what the rumors would be about.
Bazz, the older, taller black Zora shrugged. "She gave birth earlier this year, didn't she? It's no wonder she'd want to rest."
"That's true," Rivan said, "but I heard there might be another reason."
"I know what you're talking about," Gaddison said. She shook her head, catching the morning light with her silver scales. "I don't believe it."
"You don't believe it or you don't want to believe it?" Rivan challenged.
"What is that rumor even about?" Bazz asked before Gaddison could retort.
Sidon stayed still, waiting. He didn't want to hear it. If his foreboding was right, he didn't want to hear it. But it couldn't be right, could it? There was no way something he'd learned just this morning would have already made it to the ears of the people. There was no way such a, a proposal would have been discussed outside of his knowledge, with the entirety of the Domain. There was no way–
"He thinks that Princess Mipha will hand over the crown to prince Sidon," Gaddison said.
Sidon's heart dropped, and he realized with the weight of it just how much he'd hoped he would be wrong.
"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Rivan followed. "The Princess has been giving more and more of her royal duties to the Prince, and for this Ceremony too they're sending out the Prince as the Zora's representative. Don't you find it weird?"
"The Princess is just tired," Gaddison argued. "It's only natural she'd rely on her brother for help. It doesn't mean anything."
"But then what abou–"
Sidon took a step forward, stomping down his feet with a force that was only half intentional. The chatter abruptly stopped as they all turned to watch him with various levels of startled etched on their faces. Rivan looked painfully nervous. Gaddison was hiding it better, but the guilt was still visible in the pinching of her lips.
Bazz, unsurprisingly, recovered the quickest. "Prince Sidon," he greeted with a nod. "Are you ready to leave?"
Sidon looked at him, looked at them, then turned his gaze to the perch ahead of them, from where they would dive into the waiting mouth of the Hylia River.
Where exactly that dive would lead him, he wasn't sure yet.
He breathed in, pushing aside all matters of the kingdom, his sister, his father, his fears and uncertainties and hopes, to solely focus on that one perch, that one beginning.
He looked again at the three Zora before him, and grinned.
"Let's dive in."
Hylia River – Northern Arm
"Prince Sidon," Rivan piped up during a lull in discussion as they leisurely swam down the river, "you've visited the Gerudo lands before, haven't you? How was it?"
Sidon broke away from his contemplating of the unfolding scenery, full of small wonders of unusually shaped vegetation and chirping living things that, however many times he'd observed on previous occasions, he could never tire of. Turning to meet the curious eyes of the guard, he repeated the question in his head, thinking on it.
"I was still young," he said after a time of trying to recall the memory of the Gerudo Desert. "It was the second Ceremony to be held after the Calamity's fall, three years after the first one in Castle Town." He made a mental count of the years, his eyes widening slightly in realization. "Goodness, has it been fifteen years already?"
"Do you remember it?" Rivan insisted, making Sidon realize that he hadn't actually answered the question. The black Zora looked expectant, like a fingerling avid for a story, and Sidon grinned. He'd always been good at telling stories.
"Not all, but some." He gazed ahead, indulging his memories. "I remember being disappointed in learning the Desert didn't have any water, except for the rare Oasis which were too shallow and too warm to be of much consolation."
He paused, amused by Rivan's significantly less enthused expression. "I said so to my sister, looking for support in the strange, unwelcoming lands of the Gerudo and expecting her to agree with me, but she only laughed. When I asked her what was funny, she took me by the hand and brought me further into the Desert. The night was setting, the winds picking up and dropping the temperature to a cooler, much more pleasant one. She led me to a dune, one of the many sand cliffs there, and told me to look. I said, 'What is there to look at? It's a desert.'"
He heard Rivan stifle a snort. "But she only smiled and told me to look again. So, I did. I looked at the dunes, fading to a dark grey color with the absence of sunlight, stretching endlessly toward the horizon. I saw the wind ruffling bits and pieces of sand with the hollow sound of its dominance throughout the land. I watched the stars, twinkling mutely without any cloud, tree or water to hide behind. Then I looked at her again, trying to understand if I was missing something, because in all honesty, it was all just sand." This time, Rivan didn't bother hiding his amusement.
"I think she was having fun, watching the puzzled look on my face and chuckling to herself. When she had enough of me going in circles, she asked, 'Do you know what they call the Desert here?'" He paused again, sending a questing glance to his three listeners. None of them dared an answer, waiting expectantly for him to continue.
"I didn't know, so she told me: 'They call it the Sea of Sand.'"
Rivan blinked once, twice, confusion slowly leaving place to consideration, not unlike how the younger Sidon had reacted himself. Bazz snorted softly and Gaddison smiled, a look of fondness coloring her eyes. "That's a beautiful image," she said.
"It certainly was," Sidon remarked. "The sight of the Desert that night is still rooted deep in my mind."
A comfortable silence followed, accompanying the four of them in their own private musings. The flow of the river felt like a caress on his skin, the sun embracing him tenderly as the various fauna of the land chirped away. His mind was light, the memories of the beautiful landscapes he'd had the opportunity to see in his years of occasional travel dancing around in his head and lulling him out of his usual thoughts.
For once in a long time, Sidon felt himself fully relax.
"Does that mean we should call our lakes 'deserts of water'?" Rivan asked suddenly into the silence, earning himself a snort from Bazz and a groan from Gaddison. "What? It's a valid question!"
Sidon laughed, his chest warming in a simple kind of happiness that he hadn't realized he'd missed, before he caught a smell coming from a Hylian village ahead and paused.
It was faint, but familiar. A foul smell, carrying ominously in the air and bringing feelings to the surface that Sidon had always tried to keep at bay. Rivan and Gaddison were oblivious, engrossed in another one of their frequent arguments, but Bazz noticed his sudden change in mood and approached. "What is it?" He asked, his voice low, tense in apprehension.
Sidon shook his head, frowning slightly. "No, it's nothing, just this smell..." Bazz gave him a confused look, turning his head around to try and find the smell he apparently hadn't noticed before meeting Sidon's eyes again, silently asking what smell?
Sidon wasn't sure what to say. He was certain he could smell something, however, and his eyes narrowed in frustration as he tried to recognize it. It was a familiar smell, yet there was also an unknown twist to it. He frowned, the feeling of disgust growing stronger inside him. He didn't like this smell.
The realization struck him like a pillar of ice.
His jaw clenching, he turned to Bazz. "Something's wrong. Let's hurry." With that, he gave a powerful kick underwater, his body weaving a path through the river with a speed only the best swimmer in the Domain could muster. Bazz and the other two followed suit without hesitation, keeping their questions to themselves and trusting their prince's instincts as they struggled to keep up with him. The smell of blood, Hylian blood, was growing stronger by the second, igniting the burn of nausea in Sidon's gut.
Soon, the shores of a village could be seen in the distance. The red Zora impossibly quickened his pace, hoping not to arrive too late. For what, he didn't know. He could only pray it wasn't what he thought.
Woodland Village was a small but very welcoming village. Located near the river and relatively close to both the Zora's and the Goron's lands, it was a famous spot for trading merchandise and resting during travels. Sidon had had the chance to visit it on multiple occasions himself, conversing with the villagers and enjoying the rich and unfamiliar view of both the Eldin Canyon and the Great Hyrule Forest.
When he arrived this time, however, the usual cheerful atmosphere had left place to faraway shouts and cries, houses empty or closed off due to what could only be a confrontation.
"Monsters?" Sidon muttered, spying two villagers some dozen meters ahead. He turned back toward his companions, barely allowing them the time to rest after their frenetic swim. They most likely had to push their limits to catch up to him. He would feel sorry, if only the circumstances weren't as they were. "Let's go, friends. This doesn't bode well."
Although Zora were definitely slower on the ground than in water, Sidon's legs were just as efficient as any Hylian's as he made his way toward the villagers. Two males, it seemed, one of which was helping the other walk, a bloodied arrow lodged in the latter's thigh. They both startled at the sight of the approaching red Zora.
"Well, I'll be damned. What's a prince of the Zora doing here?" The injured man asked, unexpectedly cheerful despite his injury.
"We were passing by when we –" smelled blood "–heard cries," Sidon said, trying to look beyond the villagers to the back of the village, from where sounds of a battle could indeed be heard. He preferred to keep the blood smell detail to himself, as it tended to make people rather uncomfortable. Himself included. "What's happening? Are you under attack?"
The injured man grunted, gesturing for the back of the village. "Aye, party of Bokoblins suddenly showed up earlier, North of the village. Pretty fierce too, the bloody creatures." He grimaced from pain when the movement jostled his injury.
The second man, younger looking, cringed a little before addressing them. "You, err, wouldn't happen to have a red potion on you, would you?"
Bazz swiftly got a small flask from his pouch, handing it over to the suffering man who accepted it readily, giving heartfelt thanks. Sidon waited until he'd drunk everything before continuing. "How many?"
"Dunno, haven't counted. Some archers hiding behind bushes too, sneaky bastards." He spit in anger. That explained the arrow.
The younger man followed. "They're putting up quite a fight, but we're getting them. Only a few are left."
A sigh of relief left the prince's lips. Although the stench of blood was stronger than ever, the situation didn't seem as bad as he'd expected. He grinned. "That's good to hear. We will still go and see if we can be of any help. Will you be fine on your own?"
The young Hylian nodded while the other returned the grin. "That's damn kind of you, Prince!" He waved dismissively at his wound. "Don't worry about me, 'tis but a scratch. I'll be back to crushing skulls before you know it. Now go on, show them monsters what Zora fists can do!"
Sidon nodded. "Please be safe," he said, before urging his companions in direction of the battle.
Making their way around a few houses, they finally obtained a visual of the scene. Five red and two black Bokoblins were facing off a group of villagers, some of which were wielding real swords while others managed with forks or axes. A bit further also stood a white Rito, sending arrows at nearby bushes and trees where other monsters were apparently hiding. Some people laid on the ground, unmoving, while others sat licking their wounds behind buildings, dowsing the beginnings of fires here and there. Hylian blood seeped into the ground in places, but the villager's earlier words were right; the Hylians were winning the fight.
Sidon glanced at his fellow Zora. "Bazz, Gaddison, go assist in the fight. Rivan, you and me will help the injured." The guards nodded, Bazz and Gaddison quickly wielding their spears and diving for the Bokoblins. Rivan and his prince headed for the nearest person lying motionless on the ground –a woman, blood gushing from a wound on the side of her head. They carefully carried her away to a group of other wounded villagers, offering their help to a gaunt, tired looking old man who seemed in possession of various healing supplies. Sidon guessed he was a doctor, or something of the sort. The man sent them a surprised look from behind a pair of small glasses before giving them a silent nod of appreciation. After assisting in the bandaging and cleaning of some rather ugly injuries, the two Zora went to fetch the other incapacitated villagers.
Some had laid their last breath already. They carried them anyway.
"I don't have enough potions," the grey-haired man eventually grumbled. He cast a wayward look at Sidon, the meaning of which was clear. The red Zora nodded.
"We will give you ours," he said, giving a slight nudge to Rivan's side.
The black Zora was too engrossed in the bandaging of a wound to react immediately, looking up in confusion. Then the conversation registered in his head and he fumbled quickly for his pouch. "Ah, yes, yes, I have two more right here." Taking out two red vials, he handed them to the gruff doctor who took them without a word. It reminded Sidon of some other people he knew from his father's entourage.
Suddenly, a cry resonated on their left. A young man holding a bloodied arm in a tight clutch came running from the direction of the woods, screaming. "Moblins! Moblins are coming!"
Sidon's jaw clenched. That complicated things greatly. Intercepting the man with an arm, he asked, "How many?"
The man's face was very pale. "Three," he said, catching his breath as the doctor ordered him to sit down. When the man was clearly too agitated to oblige, Sidon pushed very lightly on his shoulders, easing him down. "I– We, we were chasing a fleeing Bokoblin when they suddenly came out of nowhere and–" He hissed when the doctor ripped open the sleeve covering the wound. "I mean, what the hell are Moblins doing all the way down here anyway? They usually keep to the forest!"
"Don't worry, we will take care of them." Sidon turned to Rivan, wordlessly giving instructions. The young Zora nodded and tightened his grip over his silverscale spear, following behind Sidon as they began retracing the panicked man's steps.
"Be, be careful!" The man cried after them, his voice wavering between concern and relief. Sidon gave him a large grin as he walked on, sharp teeth on full display. The villager didn't look too sure what to make of it.
As they delved deeper toward the woods, getting further away from the bustle of the village, new sounds began to reach their ears. These were not Hylian shouts, but roars and grunts belonging to much larger beings. They were approaching the Moblins.
"My Prince, there's something..." Rivan hesitated. "I'm not sure but it sounds like..."
Sidon crouched silently behind a tree, peeping at the backs of three red Moblins a few meters ahead. "Yes, they're fighting something." He cringed as a particularly frustrated roar escaped one of the creatures. "And struggling, by the looks of it."
Just as they were starting to wonder who –or what– the creatures' opponent was, a glint of metal shone through the Moblins' shadows and tore through their flesh in a remarkably swift motion. The Moblins cried out in pain, before reaching out for whatever had wounded them with angry fists. Their opponent jumped to the side, well out of reach, and now fully in sight to the two Zora.
It was a petite Hylian figure, most likely a man, although Sidon couldn't be sure. Dressed modestly in light brown boots, pants and a darker tunic, he was wielding a rather weathered looking sword in his left hand. His face was partly hidden by blond bangs and other strands of hair that hadn't made it into his ponytail, but the sharpness of his blue eyes could be seen even from a distance, enhanced by a bright blue hood covering his shoulders. He stood before the Moblins, tensed muscles ready to leap and pierce, yet exuding an aura of calm and focus that had Sidon's breath hitching.
The Hylian's grip shifted, feet digging into the ground as a split second later he was diving for the Moblins again, successfully crippling one of them with a merciless, majestic slash.
Sidon realized he was staring when Rivan murmured beside him, startling him out of his reverie. "A villager? To be fighting off three Moblins, he must be pretty strong."
The red Zora gathered his thoughts with an effort. "Most probably. In any case, we should aid him." He unsheathed his sword, holding it firmly in two scale covered hands. Exchanging a final glance with Rivan, he nodded. "Let's go."
An instant later, a new shade of red had joined the fight, much to the surprise of one blue eyed Hylian.