A/N: Hey, before starting chapter two, I wanted to give a shoutout to AnimeAngel111, bdj610, melodicConvergence, and zVirdian. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for following. So happy to have you all aboard. Please caution for slight gore.
Updated: 03-03-22, Anyone notice that Pris is named Willow in the first edit? No one? Good.
Chapter Two
Lawdon, the stable keeper, was out in the woods for sunset. The trusty ax weighed in his hand as he slung it over the throat of a fallen tree. Hacking away, he replayed his wife's nagging, "Rain's coming! I don't need wood. I need a hand with the tent!"
Yeah, yeah, he chopped and chopped anyway - savoring some precious alone time.
Love was love, but the Missus's pregnant fits were getting to him. And to think another kid was on the way! Two children were enough! - running between their legs, yelling up a storm, arguing about every single thing! And goddess forbid another blood moon - curse the monsters ravaging through! Say another raid happened - he could pick up their daughter; his wife, their son. But a third child? Who would rescue a baby when the bokoblins returned to torch their stable?
Distant thunder moaned.
He checked the sky for rainclouds, but then a voice called out to him from behind.
"Excuse me! Is somebody there?"
He turned - a pair of riders rode between the oaks on a single bay horse. The woman was hooded; she clutched a young man in the saddle before her. Only when they came closer did the innkeeper see the anguish in the boy's face - his mouth agape, his hand clutching his side as he writhed against her shoulder. A pool of blood flooded his tunic and dripped down the belly of the horse.
Lawdon dropped his ax and ran towards them.
"What happened?" He caught their horse.
"A-A beast," whimpered the woman - shrill and hoarse, as if the lass had been without water for days. Tears welled up her red eyes, "It attacked! A-And I don't know what to do!"
Poor lass - she was as pale as her skirt.
"Please," she begged, "Can you help him?"
Oh, Lawdon felt for her - he really did. Perhaps they were enjoying a fine merry day in the hillsides or soaking in the nice weather. But that's always when the rogue guardians come. Then comes the herds of bokoblins, bludgeoning gangs and nomads like apples from a tree. And the Yiga is always nearby, impersonating acquaintances before slitting throats for money. Hadn't Lawdon had seen it all at thirty-five? - blood, bodies, and bravery. He surely could not save them all, but he would try.
"I have a stable!" Said the innkeeper, grabbing their reins, "This way!"
He ran them through the trees until the canopy retreated, revealing the tribal horse-head of his stable basking in the last lights of sunset. Yielding to the stranger, their horse stumbled into a shakey trot, bearing its teeth out of nerves; the girl on top hunched over the boy as he gasped and gasped for breath. Meanwhile, billowing clouds knitted over them, closing the party in a deep, dangerous blue; weary old flags whipped from the barn's top; the flaps of the large tent snaked free from their ties and flew up with the sudden gust of wind.
Next, the innkeeper went skirting the stable keeps where guests had been cleaning up their campfire.
Some tried to follow, "What the hell happened, Lawdie?"
"I don't know!" He barked left and right, "Someone go get my wife!"
People peeled off - some calling for the innkeeper's wife, others grabbing saddles and wares from the squall as its winds dragged rags, clotheslines, and loose hay across the grounds. When the innkeeper pulled the duo up to the front desk, other guests were tying down the tent flaps from inside. Wide-eyed, they rushed over.
"Leekah!" The innkeeper yelled over the commotion, "Leekah, I need you!"
"Lawdon!" He heard - his wife ran from the far corner of the tent's dormitory, towing their young daughter by the wrist. "I told you not to go out! I can't reach the tent flaps over there and - "
Suddenly, she stopped - her eyes wide on the pair of riders behind him. She cupped her mouth; her daughter began to wail.
"I know that boy!" Yelled the woman, scooping up the crying child. "This boy!" She ran up to the front desk, "This is the boy that cleared out the monster camp next door!"
"You say that about every boy!"
"No, this is him!" She feverishly pointed, "Goddess, my child, are you alright?"
"Of course, he's not, Leekah! Go get a bench or something he can bleed on!" His wife split while he rounded the horse, "And you Lassy!" He opened his arms at the girl's foot, looking for her eyes, "I can take him."
The girl lifted her chin, letting her green, sober eyes spill out from beneath her hood. Her shell-shattered gaze - alight with horror and grief - flooded his tan cheeks, hook nose, beard, and chin. She explored every bit of his face as if she had never seen a person before. The shock had her arms locking, distrust colored her expression, but as she shook in the wild wind, she braved her reluctance and untied the belt that bonded her and the boy together. And inch by inch, she lowered into the arms of the innkeeper.
Before Lawdon could praise the girl, the weight of the boy overtook him. He was heavier than he looked! Damn, the lad was small - probably no more than five-four - but, gods! He was mighty! Every bit of him was muscle - bulked arms, packed chest, thick calves. A real-looking warrior, but he was definitely in need of a few good meals.
And so Lawdon pondered, looking all over the boy - could this really be the boy that cleared the forest? The reason why they had been without monsters for three weeks?
Regardless, the innkeeper turned to run - yet, something caught his eye as the girl slid off the horse. A gown she was wearing! - unfurling with majesty as she found her footing. The dress was a sleek, white satin - stunning though singed, frayed, and obscured by a red tunic pulled over the top. Such a garment shinned among the rags people wore to keep warm these days. Its fabric would have his seamstress mother cussing in disbelief.
"Shit." He mouthed.
"Quit ogling the Lady!" His wife spat, "Help the damn hero!"
The innkeeper rushed Link inside.
Panicked, Zelda took off after the pair - as if death would close its curtains right between them. So, she went running, tripping over her dress, stumbling through the soreness of her aching legs. Her thighs were saddle-sore, splitting and dead; ankles quivered - twice she almost spilled all over the dirty, wooden floor, but she pushed on for the sake of keeping in stride with Link, who lay limp in the arms of their rescuer. Flashing with lightning came the visages of the Champions, occupying her mind before fading into darkness - Urbosas laugh forever gone, Revali's righteous wings clipped, Daruk crushed to dust, Mipha dead in the grave. Gushing from the reopened wound came a memory from a long time ago - one where they had been all together. Link was finally looking comfortable among the league of heroes - half-smiling, shoulders back, appreciating the sunset that Daruk pointed out from the patio of royal banquet hall.
Goddesses, she cussed - that's not how she wanted to remember him. No sunsets, no untimely deaths, no more groups of ghosts turning to smile before fading into the twilight.
Tears spilling, Zelda wiped herself clean of the memory and trudged on to see him alive. She'd make sure he'd live - he had to live!
"Can I get you something, Hun?" The innkeeper's wife bombarded her. "Need something to drink? To eat?"
Zelda pushed past her.
Children were crying, guests were staring, wind howled against the flaps of the tent. Horses were shrieking; strays were barking; women ran back and forth, asking Zelda questions she couldn't afford to answer. Commotion swirled and tangled until thunder shouted! Zelda jumped, hurling herself into the back of the innkeeper who had suddenly stopped. Pain in her nose tingled as the man turned - he had been laying Link on a bench.
Zelda pressed her hands to her nose, feeling the pain. It was prickle - hot and strangely precious.
"Y'alright, Lassy?"
All she could do was cry.
"Here," Said the man, gesturing to a chair beside Link, "Why not sit down?"
She sank into the chair.
"I didn't break it, did I?" He asked - his voice so warm and sincere.
Zelda shook her head - she just hadn't felt pain in a while, or heat. Burning in her hands was a hot damp towel that the Missus's had placed. It scorched the skin of her hands so wonderfully. Mesmerized, she pressed her face into it and wiped her eyes.
The room seemed to settle, positioning her in a vulnerable state for processing.
Only two hours ago had she been born from the violent belly of the beast, and like a baby taking in its mother, she drank in the senses plaguing the stable dormitory. It was hot and dank and far more personal than she had ever experienced. Intimate, the place was filled with people, signs of life, and crossing lively-hoods. The stench of damp hay had her coughing, yet the inn's seven or eight guests did not seem to mind. They dined on haybales - mugs and beer bottles and cards splayed over gangem blue blankets. Across the room from them, a row of beds lined the far wall; their stained linens lay imprinted with people who had lied there before. Beside the headboards sat end-side tables with spokes tied to broken legs. Moth-eaten tapestries hung from the wooden beams that held up the tent. Gas lanterns lit up the place, but the room grew darker and darker with the coming squall.
Everything she wanted to look at, but it hurt too much - like bright sunshine against clouded eyes.
"Here's some water, Hunny." She heard. A glass was handed to Zelda. She followed the hand that offered it until the innkeeper's wife face came into view - another person, this close, right here before her. Distracted by its rawness, Zelda searched every feature of the woman - her tan skin, her pores, the mole dotting her cheek, her flat nose, her precious chin, and that infectious, reassuring smile. Two honey-colored braids, coarse and sun-bleached, fell past her collar. And oh, she was even pregnant! Zelda gawked at the belly - she was moments from reaching out to feel it, but fear for Link called her back.
Link laid still on the bench as if he were half-asleep. Slowly, the innkeeper ran a blade through the threads of his sodden tunic - the champion's tunic, cut in half. Zelda tried not to care, although her eyes watered in memory of everyone she had lost. Burrowing into Link's cloak, she tried to achieve a safe space, but then Link let out a groan - his eyes squinched tightly, that mouth buckled, his hands gripped the edge of the bench for relief. Empathy rocking her from her seat, Zelda scrambled over to meet him when his eyes peered out. Yet, the rancid smell of blood clogged her nose, but somehow, Zelda found herself kneeling, observing the pulsing wound up close. His bare skin gave way to blood, scrapes, and embedded rocks.
"I'm getting y'all alcohol." Cried the mother. She pinched her nose, "What can I get the lady?"
Shell-shocked, all Zelda could do was stare.
"Hoddy-toddy, I see it on your face." In the next moment, the woman was shouting at her daughter, "Pris! Quit blubbering and put the kettle over the fire!" She then jumped away for the cupboard beside them. "I'll just get y'all a cup of whisky and let you decide what to do with it."
"Y'would think a pregnant lady would be less psyched about alcohol." Muttered her husband.
But Zelda kept her focus on the boy on the bench. Oh, what could she do? Hold his head? Stroke his hair? Grab his hand? No - that was much too close for Link, having met her only two hours ago. Searching for what to do, she caught a sobering glance her way - he, peering up from the bench, exhaustion weighing on his eyelids, remorse heavy on his brow; he looked between her eyes and then up at the blonde strands of hair coiling beneath his cloak on her head. He looked like he was about to say something, but then the next roll of pain took him.
She snatched his hand.
The innkeeper then joined her on his knees and pulled out a crate of tools from beneath the bench. He shouted behind them, "Anyone a healer here?"
No one answered.
"Damn it." He lit a match, then turned - flame burning the quick, "You squeamish, Lassy? I suggest taking a bed back there. This won't be pretty."
"Will… Will he be alright?" Tears began to spill, "I apologize - I've just lost all my friends and family. And he's all I have left!"
"I'm gonna try my best here, but I suggest you prep for the worst. That's kind of the law out here."
"S-Sir," breathed Link, reaching over, "… a message."
"Uh - what was that, kid?"
"I-I need to send a message?"
"Y-You have bigger problems to worry about" He stuck the match against his flesh.
Link writhed. Zelda held his hand tightly! His fingers clenched down; nails dug into her skin as she prayed over him. Something about his hand caught her attention - he was shaking her. She peered over at those eyes - they begged her to communicate his plea. Though weak and battered, she found the words to continue: "W-We can hire."
"A storm's about to roll in. How important is this message?"
"O-One-thousand rupees worth." Whimpered Link.
The whole room froze. Both Zelda and the innkeeper gawked at the boy.
"That much?"
Zelda nodded.
"U-Um," Stuttered the inn-keeper, retracting his hand, letting the match die out. He turned over his shoulder, "Does anyone want a job? Relaying a message?"
A few people raised their hands like school-children.
"Mind you, we have a storm blowing through!"
"Might I be considered for the job?" One said the more eager. One man from the back waved back and forth as if that would get him more attention.
The innkeeper struck another match, " Go ahead, kids. Choose your messenger."
Too inflamed for words, Link endured the burns and surrendered the choice to Zelda with a squeeze of her hand. Catching the cue, she tried to sound poised - though looking at the crowd felt overwhelming. So many faces.
She spoke to the floor, "S-Sheikah domain. Please leave immediately. N-No payment unless they bring the Sheikah or… some sort of evidence to prove that the Sheikah have been notified."
A few people put down their hands - suggesting a change to her idea of the job. The domain was just a day away. The money was worth it, right? Weren't the Sheikah respected and welcoming - good people? However, a century stood between her idea of the people group and the modern Hylian's, so she pressed on, trusting that the last three remaining helpers were qualified. She chose the one with a horse, and thinking fast, sent the selected messenger with a tear of her skirt. And with shaking hands, she found a dagger in Link's cloak and shoved it through a lock of her hair - ten inches long, and rolled it in the satin. Should someone see it and remember her? Was there a living member that recalled the royal family? Before she could second guess herself, Missus Lawdon provided a wrap to tie the parcel together, and then the man was off to retrieve his horse for the journey.
"Leekah!" The innkeeper shouted behind him, operating on Link, "Water. Clean Towels!"
Leekah set a bucket down beside the bench. Their son - a small boy about the age of eight - handed his father some towels. And their small daughter - probably no more than five, now that Zelda could see her up close - approached with a chipped mug. The messy thing sloshed a few drops left and right before coming to a stop. She gingerly held it for Zelda's taking, careful not to look at the swollen, ashen wound in her Father's guest. And upon relaying the hot mug, the girl took off in the other direction.
But, before Zelda could take a sip, Missus Lawdon dropped a shot into her tea. Zelda held out the cup, unabashed.
"And you on the bench, sir!" Leekah held out another cup for Link, "This next cup is for you if you want to make it through the night." She sat down on the bench, pouring it straight into a glass bottle and helping him drink. 'Don't worry," she waved her free hand, "It'll take the edge off."
As she spoke, the sound of rain trickled in.
Drops pattered against the tent walls - an old friend's voice to the Princess. Bewildered, she looked up towards the roof of the ceiling.
"Can you stand, Lass?" Muttered the innkeeper mid-focus. He held a damp cloth over the cauterized wound, "Why don't you go wash off out there."
"N-No, I'm fine." Answered Zelda, looking between her dirty skirt and her friend. She must have looked horrible.
"The Missus and I will take care of him alright."
"No, I'll stay here."
"The worst is done."
"I-I just haven't seen him for a while... I just want to make sure he's okay."
"Tell you what." The man said, grabbing some soap and a hairbrush from the same crate beneath the bench. "Leekah will go out with you and then lend you some clothes - clean and dry. 'Won't take more than five minutes. Hey Leekah, do you mind helping the girl wash off?"
"I don't mind."
But, Link looked worried, especially as the Missus lifted Zelda to her feet. He casted her fleeting glances.
"No more than five minutes?" She made the woman promise - could she trust her?Was this an elaborate plan to end them both?
Link was trying to get to his feet - so Zelda protested, laying him back down.
"Wanna open that wound back up, boy?"
Ignoring the innkeeper, Link looked for a reaction in her eyes.
"Only five minutes." She whispered.
He looked reluctant, searching her eyes. He then gestured to the dagger in the pocket of the cloak before inching back onto the bench.
Zelda understood, clutching the bulge in the fabric before fleeing after the Misses.
Leekah, the innkeeper's wife, led the mysterious lady out into the rain with a wicker umbrella. What was the use of it, though? - with all those holes. Drips leaked through the crevices and dampened her lazy braids.
Poor horses, thought she, waiting for the lady to join her out in the squall. Rain pelted down on the ground, already making puddles out of their mucky stable grounds.
Curses, the river would overflow if it continued at this rate, which only meant more chores and more work. On cue, she wished her children were older - to pick up the slack, help out with more arduous chores, or be tall enough to dust the shelves and clean the gutters. She let out a long sigh, then suddenly realized that the girl in white was still not by her side.
No, she turned around to see the mysterious standing at the entrance, looking out into the rain, half ablaze with lantern light. As if in a trance, she watched the water drip from the rolled-up flap of the tent. Eyes alight, she looked all over the darkening horizon as if it was whispering sweet nothings to her. Her eyes shook; she buckled her mouth as if she was about to cry. Then slowly, she extended her hand into the summer rain. Catching a drop, she flinched!
"It won't bite you!" Leekah yelled above the pitter-patter, "C'mon! We've got a wash bucket this way!"
The girl gave an anxious smile before stumbling forward into the downpour. The wash poured over her hood, soaking her chest, skirt, sandals - everything. Slowly, she raised her hands, as if stunned - but she stood firm, taking it all in. Eyes scouring her hands, then her arms, she then tilted her head up towards the sky, letting the rain wash those reddened cheeks. She searched the heavens and swooned.
Breathing out a tearful smile, she then dropped her hood and let the rain drench her.