Content notes: electrocution, minor character death, violence with racial subtext
There is wisdom in silence, or so wise men liked to say. Zelda used to think one followed the other naturally, that quiet composure was simply one of wisdom's many gifts. Lately, every conversation with her father made her wonder if the silence of the wise was a matter of economy rather than patience. Sooner or later they grew tired of being ignored.
But no, she told herself, cynicism was cheap. It took courage to keep speaking the truth until someone heard, and courage was what they needed in these times. The golden sign of Courage on the back of Link's hand was all he needed to make the king of Hyrule listen, after months of dismissing his own daughter.
It wasn't that she resented Link. He had believed her from the start. He had apparently been through quite an ordeal on her behalf, too, waking up in a strange body after seven years of magical slumber to find the world gone to pieces. Zelda's plan had backfired in the most disastrous way imaginable. Fortunately, Link said, the Sacred Realm had some kind of fail-safe, a divine alarm signal that summoned the "Seven Sages." (He was reluctant to say who they had been. Though it pricked her curiosity, she only made him promise to tell her if the safety of the kingdom ever depended on it.) Two parts of the Triforce had fled from Ganondorf. One had gone to Link, which he now carried with him as proof, the other, he said, belonged to her. She wondered.
Her future self had worked hard to rectify her mistake, he said—he called it "their" mistake, but she would own it. After they freed their land from the clutches of the evil king, she had used the royal family's ocarina to rewind time for Link, giving him a chance to reclaim his lost childhood years. Giving Hyrule a chance to avoid the nightmare she had created. There was a haunted look in his eyes when he told the story, and she wondered if he was leaving some parts out. But those were his secrets to keep.
Perhaps the wise kept silent because they feared their own hubris. She glanced at the back of her hand. Nothing.
Her fingers brushed the stained glass windows that lined the tower, an exquisite jigsaw puzzle of heraldry and myth casting its colors on her view of the world beyond. The western skies were clear, but in her mind's eye storm clouds loomed. She recalled the Gerudo king's piercing gaze, and shuddered.
Their plan was in motion. Once again, all she could do was wait.
Sedge tugged his hood down in a useless effort to shield his eyes from another swirling cloud of dust. No matter which way he turned, it seemed to find its way in, as if the wind itself sought to remind him that he didn't belong here.
Pausing in the shadow of a rocky overhang, he moistened his throat with a swig from his canteen. He chased it with a few drops of vivid indigo liquid from a vial clipped to his belt, then slathered more of it over his fins and face. A product of nearly-lost Sheikah herbal lore, the elixir was the only way a young Zora stood any chance of surviving the trip through Castor Wilds. Even so, he had accepted the mission without hesitation. It was a great honor to be so trusted by Princess Ruto.
Planting his hands on his knees, he levered himself to his feet and resumed the slow, laborious climb up the canyon. The trail, such as there was one, was covered in sand and loose gravel, and his feet slid out from under him more than once. Every breath burned. His eyes were sandpaper, and his skin was beginning to crack in spite of the elixir. At long last, he spotted a black and gold banner fluttering from a ledge overhead. The trail turned and made a slow zigzag up the hillside, but impatience propelled Sedge straight up the rocks instead. By the time he realized it was a mistake, it was too late to go back. He was cursing and shaking when he finally hauled his body over the ledge.
He found himself in the middle of a small portable town. A half-circle of tents nestled into a sandy depression about ten fathoms wide, their canvas walls dyed with a pattern that made them indistinguishable from boulders at a distance. Up close, however, each was an exquisite work of art, interlocking patterns of snakes and clouds and swirling calligraphy. A dozen or so wooden stools, a few brightly colored carpets, and a half-woven basket were strewn around a cast iron cook pot. The fire was out at the moment, but looked like it might have been burning a short time ago. Straight ahead was what seemed to be a supply tent. Through the open door he saw a mostly-empty weapon rack and several clay water jugs, each larger than him. He swallowed dust and thick saliva, dreaming of cool, clear water. Maybe they would give him a drink. Royal messengers were supposed to be treated courteously.
Moments later, he felt something sharp pressed to his back. Before he knew what was happening, seven armored warriors surrounded him, all women, brandishing a variety of spears and scimitars. He guessed they were some kind of honor guard, judging by their matching black and gold shawls. They moved with fluid grace, red hair dancing like flames in the wind. He grimaced, less in fear than mortification at his own carelessness. Where had they been hiding?
The guard who had him at spear-point yanked back his hood, then let out a surprised huff.
"It's a Zora!"
"A kid, no less," someone behind him half-laughed in disbelief.
"The phrase 'fish out of water' comes to mind."
Sedge bit his tongue and reminded himself that they probably didn't know "fish" was Zora slang for a coward or weakling. He ate fish.
The shortest of the guards, who he guessed was not much older than him, bent down to look at him with wide, curious amber eyes. "What are you doing way out here?"
Sedge drew himself up, clearing his scratchy throat. "I serve the Zora royal family. We seek an audience with the elders."
Indignant snorts and muffled snickering. The woman behind him—probably their leader, since her shawl had a fancy turquoise fringe and the others were quick to get out of her way—came around to size him up with a cynical frown.
"So, the Wise Ones dragged us all out here to Mother-forsaken nowhere to meet a skinny fish boy?" she hissed. Sedge was beginning to suspect she did know what it meant. She lifted his chin with the point of her spear. "I propose an alternate explanation. You're a troublemaker who wandered up from the valley and got lost. You saw our camp and thought you'd help yourself to some of our water. I saw you eyeing it. Fish boy."
"That's pretty harsh, Teake," said the young guard. "Even you don't know why we're here."
"Little sister, when I want your opinion I'll give it to you."
The shorter woman pressed her lips together and looked away. Sedge noted several of the others giving her dirty looks.
Teake hadn't taken her eyes off him. "That does make me wonder, though. How are you not dead?"
Sedge nodded toward his belt, as much as he could with a blade at his throat. Another guard lifted his cloak to inspect the vials.
"Sheikah elixirs. Seven or eight of them!"
Teake's eyebrows shot up. "Those things easily go for a couple golds in the market." When Sedge tensed, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, relax. We're not going to steal them. What, you think the Gerudo are nothing but petty thieves?"
"Maybe he's a thief."
"Wonder if he's got a bounty on his head."
"I am no such thing!" Sedge protested. "I come bearing an urgent message regarding a matter of interest to King Ganondorf."
This time their laughter was unrestrained. Teake lowered her spear and shoved him toward the cliff. "Get out of here, kid."
Another woman winked at him. "We won't tell anybody we saw you."
Sedge's fist clenched in anger. After coming all this way, risking life and limb, they were going to turn him away at the door. But what could he do? The guards' amusement had faded, and their stares were beginning to turn hostile. He should leave. He couldn't leave. Going home and telling Princess Ruto he'd failed would be worse than anything they could do to him. Probably.
"Bring him in."
The voice came from the largest tent, in the center of the village. Above the door was the black banner he'd spotted earlier. Exchanging wide-eyed glances, the guards formed a ring around Sedge and led him inside.
Flickering torches in serpentine brass stands illuminated the room. Curiously, their flame produced no smoke. The décor was simple yet elegant; from the golden coffee pot bubbling on a small portable stove in the corner, to the pair of neatly-made beds with drawers underneath, to the bundles of dried herbs dangling from the rafters, every object was both functional and beautiful. A plush red carpet ran the length of the floor, leading to where a pair of ancient women were seated on embroidered cushions. They were mirror images of one another, from their long-sleeved black and white robes to the curled wisps of pale gray hair that framed their faces. One wore a massive red jewel on her forehead, the other, blue.
Sedge started to kneel, though apparently not fast enough, because Teake gripped his shoulder and forced him down. The blue sorceress dismissed the guards with a gesture.
"You've come a long way, young one," she said in a voice like creaking bones. "I hope you had a pleasant journey."
"Heh. Of course he didn't," her twin scoffed. She bent forward, leathery lips parting in an unsettling grin. "You know, boy, there would be plenty of water here for you, if not for the Hylians."
"He's too young to know anything about that. They don't teach their children anything," said the first with a dismissive wave. "Oh, but how rude of us. We ought to introduce ourselves, Koume."
"Quite right, Kotake."
The pair looked at each other and shrugged.
"Well now, I suppose we've done it."
Sedge tried not to quiver. Koume and Kotake, the legendary "Twinrova." Ganondorf's mothers. Rarely seen but universally feared, the pair were the subject of more rumors than could possibly be true. He doubted that they were really four hundred years old, or that they could read a person's mind just by looking at them, or that they were actually ravishing beauties who disguised themselves as crones. But on one point all the rumors agreed: they were deadly when crossed. Their eyes fixed on Sedge like a pair of cats on a…
Fish. (Damn it.)
He wasn't sure if he was supposed to rise, decided not to chance it.
"Speak, child," Koume barked.
Swallowing the last shred of his pride, he lowered his head. "I am Seggin, a messenger of the Zora royal family. I come in the name of Princess Ruto Do Bon, seeking to parley with the great Ganondorf."
Kotake's brow furrowed in an almost-convincing imitation of concern. "Parley? Is there some trouble?"
"We are asking for your protection. Last year, shortly after King Ganondorf visited Zora's Domain, the guardian deity of our fountain fell gravely ill. The cause was discovered to be a parasite. This surprised us, as Lord Jabu-Jabu normally has remarkable immunity—indeed, his presence helps to purify the water." Sedge took a deep breath and dared to meet their eyes for the briefest moment, the dance of deception's opening steps. "Further investigation revealed that the creature had been enhanced with magic. Someone did this intentionally."
Koume blew a sharp breath out her nose. "Are you suggesting that our king had something to do with your guardian's unfortunate affliction?"
"Far be it from me to insinuate such a thing," Sedge replied in a rush. "But… it has become clear to our princess that the Hylians cannot or will not protect us. Her father is too proud to ask for help, but she is willing to do what he will not to save our people. She requests the Gerudo's aid in ensuring that such a thing never happens again."
"And what might she have to offer in return?"
They all knew there was only one acceptable answer. To his credit, Sedge kept his voice even. "The Spiritual Stone of Water."
Their faces split open like overripe melons. Kotake crooked a finger, and suddenly the floor was a sheet of ice. In the same moment a gust of frosty wind hit him in the back, launching him toward the witches. They moved faster than he'd imagined they could, lifting his cloak, checking his sleeves and belt pouch.
"Where is it?"
"Come now, let's see!"
Koume tried to peek under the fins on his head. He pulled away, rigid with indignation.
"You will forgive us, I hope, for not sending the Sapphire with a lone messenger on such a treacherous journey, without knowing how our offer would be received."
"I see." Kotake settled back into her seat, and after casting a long glare at Sedge, so did her twin.
They said no more for a while, only stroked their chins and held a silent conversation with their eyes. The low crackle of the torches was suddenly deafening. He wondered if they would ask him why the Zora, faithful servants of the king of Hyrule, would go behind his back to make a bargain with another monarch. To this he would reply that the Zora did not need the Hylians' permission to protect themselves. Or perhaps they would ask, why now? What made this threat so exceptional, that they would offer such a reward? Here he would feign ignorance, saying that although it would pain them to part with the Zora queens' traditional "engagement ring," it was a small price to pay for their people's safety; it was, after all, only a pretty bauble.
But they asked none of these things. After letting him sweat for several minutes, Koume cleared her throat.
"When and where?"
Sedge produced a folded sheet of parchment, offering it to them with both hands. "If His Majesty finds our offer acceptable, we ask that he meet us at this location on the fourth day after the new Forest Moon."
Koume took the map but didn't unfold it. "Very well. He will send an envoy."
"Begging your pardon, excellencies. In regard for how unique and valuable the Sapphire is to us, we would much prefer to put it in his hands ourselves."
Kotake's nose wrinkled. "He has a kingdom to rule. You cannot expect him to run petty errands."
You've done well enough without him these past seven months, thought Sedge, but he only replied, "These are our terms."
Koume stared him down with a sour pout. She wouldn't get him to budge on this point and she knew it. It was only out of spite that she pretended to reconsider. At length she said, "Your princess will bring the stone herself."
Sedge's mouth twitched slightly. The Hylians wouldn't like it, but Princess Ruto herself had told him to concede the point if necessary to make the deal. I'm not afraid of Ganondorf, she'd said. In fact, I'd kind of like to be there to see the look on his face.
When Koume didn't back down, he bowed low again. "As you wish."
She inspected the map, exchanged a brisk nod with her twin, then snapped her fingers. It dissolved in a flash of fire.
"Done."
Koume watched the Zora boy disappear down the winding trail with a small frown. They had filled his canteens and replaced his cloak with a better one, and for this his gratitude was clearly genuine. Bani, eager to prove herself and more eager still to ask a million invasive questions about the Zora and their land to the east, had offered to escort him back down the canyon. Koume suspected that Teake had agreed to it mostly to be rid of her little sister for a while.
"Forest Moon," she muttered. "Ruled by Farore and Nayru. An inauspicious day for the daughters of sand and fire."
Beside her, Kotake pursed her lips. "You know what this means? That wizard was telling the truth."
"Truth can be bent," said Koume. "Better make sure it bends our way."
They were silent for a long time, watching the setting sun. Bani returned, practically skipping.
"Get some rest, daughter," Kotake told her. "We leave at dawn."
After the young woman disappeared into her tent, the sorceresses looked at each other.
"I think we should leave tonight," said Koume.
Kotake frowned, hesitating. "They've all been loyal. Is this really—"
"Now is not the time for weakness! You want our son to die? We have to, Kotake. It's His will."
"I know. I know..." Kotake closed her eyes, let out a long, rough breath. Opened them again. "There's no other way."
She stirred the dust with one long fingernail. Frost sprouted from the ground at her touch, raced between the tents and up the canyon walls, crept between the rocks. The groaning and cracking of boulders echoed through the valley. Koume heard a few puzzled murmurs from inside the tents, and smiled grimly. Poor souls. At least it would be quick. She stifled the tiny spark of pity that sprang up. This was how it had to be. There was no other way.
A massive chunk broke loose from the cliff, crushing the tents. If the guards screamed, she didn't hear them. More rocks followed in a deafening shower, burying the whole village until there was no sign this place had ever been inhabited. And Koume laughed, a shrill, raucous laugh that held no joy.
Before the dust settled, Twinrova jumped onto their brooms and sped off into the moonlit sky without looking back.
The soft blue light of the Zora's Sapphire glistened on the dewy grass of the clearing. Ruto curled her toes, refusing to shiver in spite of the cold wind. (It was the wind, of course. She wasn't nervous at all.) She cupped her hands around the stone and mouthed a promise to her people, to herself. I won't mess this up. The river at her back whispered a soothing song. If she squinted, she could make out a line of dark shapes descending from the hills. The Gerudo were allowing themselves to be seen. Maybe that was a good sign.
Two senior knights flanked her, and Sedge stood a few paces behind. He had insisted on being there, and she would hardly deny him after the risk he'd taken on her behalf. She resisted the impulse to glance back at the line of rushes where Link and the Hylians were waiting. Out of all of them, it was the boy in green who made her feel safe.
As safe as one could feel, anyway, when they were face to face with Ganondorf.
To her surprise, he dismounted and crossed the meadow on foot, mud squelching beneath his massive boots. Rather than his usual short cape he wore a full cloak, and a red scarf wound around the lower half of his face. He must be cold too.
His entourage drew to a halt. The sun had yet to emerge from behind the mountains; the lights of Castle Town twinkled on the eastern horizon. His face was still hidden, but Ruto's imagination painted a wicked leer behind the scarlet cloth. She clutched the stone tighter. A woman in long white robes, presumably his herald, stepped forward, and one of the Zora knights went out to meet her. A labored exchange of formal greetings followed, which Ruto barely heard.
The herald cleared her throat. "The great Ganondorf will now receive the Zora's tribute."
Steeling herself, Ruto walked toward him, cradling the Sapphire in her palms. Ten paces, twenty. No more. His displeasure was plain—he must feel each step away from the desert cliffs as keenly as she felt each one from the water—but he came forward to meet her. How much did he suspect? She heard the creak of his jet-black leather armor, the low rattle of Sedge and the knights gripping their weapons tighter. Then she saw herself reflected in his golden eyes, and heard only the thud of her own heart. He reached for the stone.
"Hyaaah!"
Link came flying out of nowhere and hit Ganondorf in the knees, making him stumble. Before he could recover, one of the Zora knights knocked his feet out from under him with a sweeping kick. They pinned his head to the ground between their crossed spears. The herald charged, scimitar drawn. There was a grunt, then the loud clang-clang of blades meeting. Her weapon went flying across the grass. She had time to blink once before Link struck her in the back of the head, knocking her unconscious. At the same moment, a hail of arrows loosed from the bushes forced the rest of the Gerudo soldiers back. With a shout that Ruto thought surprisingly high-pitched, Ganondorf seized a pole in each hand and flipped the knights head over heels. One managed to keep hold of her weapon. The other went sprawling face-down. Ganondorf caught the spear and moved to impale him with it, but the distraction had bought the Hylian soldiers enough time to rush in from their hiding place, cutting between the Gerudo and their king.
As their forces collided, Sedge caught Ruto by the arm and led her back toward the safety of the river. Looking back over her shoulder, she was alarmed to see that a trio of Gerudo soldiers had Link surrounded. But her worries were premature; moments later a bubble of Din's Fire knocked them back.
Ganondorf, meanwhile, had turned the spear on the Hylians, whirling and jabbing too fast for her to follow. A gray-bearded man thought he saw an opening and made a bold charge. Ganondorf stabbed him in the side. Anguished cries went up among the Hylian troops as the fallen man—their leader, she realized—tumbled down the hill. The rest of the squad collapsed like an anemone retreating into the rocks. Ruto tried to turn back, with the irrational thought that she could help somehow, but Sedge pulled her harder toward the water.
"Princess," he said urgently. She understood, and followed.
The Hylians outnumbered the Gerudo three to one. Ganondorf turned, shouting something to the leader of his soldiers in their language. She looked taken aback. He repeated the order, flinging his arm in the general direction of the hills. After a moment's hesitation, she passed the command to her women, who seemed as astonished as she did—but not half as much as Ruto, when they all mounted their horses and retreated.
The Zora knights charged back into the fray, fins flashing silver, swift and graceful as dancers. But grace did not win battles. Ganondorf's stolen weapon broke against one of the soldiers' shields. He tossed it aside and pounded his fist into the ground with a mighty bellow. The earth buckled, sending weapons, shields, and people flying in every direction. He whipped out a pair of curved swords and charged, batting down the handful that managed to stand back up like annoying insects. He was coming straight for Ruto. Clutching the stone to her chest, she plunged into the river.
At first, her only thought was to put as much distance as possible between them. She turned into the current, praying he wasn't a strong swimmer. An ominous vibration made her glance back, the creak of a bow, a crackle and hiss. Through the rippling veil above she caught a pulsing yellow light.
Shock arrow.
Panic gripped her. Before she could react, Sedge went shooting past her. He leaped out of the water with arms spread wide.
"No!" she screamed, lunging after him. From above she heard the impact, then the awful jittering sound. When she broke the surface he was lying on the bank, the arrow embedded in his shoulder, sparks crawling over him like a hundred glowing eels. She scrambled through mud and rocks, heedless of the danger.
Ganondorf huffed in annoyance and started to draw again, but Link threw himself between them. More shouts, and the metallic ring of swords meeting. Ruto cradled Sedge's head to her chest, shaking with terror and grief. She knew on some level that her soldiers were sworn to protect her, but this… he had used his body as a shield.
"Wake up. Come on, please wake up," she pleaded, though she knew he was dead. He had to be. She grabbed him under the arms and dragged him away from the fight, casting one wild-eyed glance back at Link. Her foot slipped. They tumbled into the sand.
To her amazement, Sedge moaned and opened one eye. For a second she could only gape at him.
"Are you all right… Princess?"
Ruto sucked in a deep breath. "You idiot!"
There was no time to properly chastise him, though, with her other friend still locked in a deadly battle. Link was holding his own, fending off his opponent's attacks with a Hylian shield. (It looked to have been modified, but she was still amazed he could lift it.) Ganondorf bore down on him in a cyclone of rage, but he couldn't land a blow on Link—ten year old, never formally trained, raised-in-the-woods Link. Maybe Zelda wasn't crazy to think he was some kind of chosen one.
He wasn't going to win, though. They had to get away. She tried to lift Sedge again.
Link deflected one blade, did a flip to avoid the other, and landed on Ganondorf's arm. Ganondorf tried to shake him off, but Link clawed his way up onto his shoulders with all the ungainly agility of a monkey and latched onto his head, trying to poke his eyes. Ganondorf flailed for a few seconds, but finally pried the boy off and slammed him into the ground. Ruto cringed, nails digging into her hands.
A shadow hissed between the two combatants. The blades of Ganondorf's swords fell off, severed inches from the hilt.
Ruto let out a shuddering sigh. "About time, Impa."
After a moment of confusion, Ganondorf threw his now-useless weapons aside and tried to ready another spell, but it was too late. Impa struck him in the gut, kicked him from behind so that he fell onto his knees, and followed with a vicious elbow between his shoulder blades. Then Link's sword was at his neck, and Impa was clapping silencer cuffs around his wrists, and it was over.
After a minute or so, Sedge managed to get to his feet. Link was staring intently at their captive, a deepening frown on his face. After a moment he said something to Impa that she didn't catch. The handful of soldiers who could stand gathered around. In the quiet after the battle, she could hear trilling frogs and the low moans of the wounded. At least that meant some of them were still alive.
One death is too many, she thought as Impa unwound the cloth from Ganondorf's face. Her anger faltered, swept away by dumb shock.
It wasn't Ganondorf.
A waterfall of garnet-hued ringlets tumbled over the woman's face as she looked up at them. She was panting, drenched with sweat and covered in grime, none of which did anything to dampen the blazing hatred in her eyes.
"He was right," she said, voice rough with bitterness. "Of course he was right."
"Who are you?" Impa demanded.
The woman shot to her feet, somehow managing to look imposing in spite of having her hands tied behind her back. "I am Parapa! Remember that name, you treacherous dogs! My king will not let this go unpunished!"
Impa and the vice-commander took about half the troops and marched their prisoner back to Castle Town. The rest stayed to tend to their injured comrades. Sedge patched up his own wound and then hovered around trying to help, ignoring Ruto's scolding. She could pull rank and command him to lie down. But no, she had a better idea.
"Sedge, do you know what Mermaid's Whiskers look like?"
"The plant? Yes, I think so."
"Good. It's excellent for binding wounds. Healers swear by it. Since you are determined to ignore my advice to rest, make yourself useful and go get some."
He made a gallant bow, as if she'd just given him command of a legion instead of sending him off to hunt river weeds. "Of course."
"And don't go splashing around like a fool! It's very delicate."
"While you're down there, think you could catch us some fish for dinner?" added Link, having overheard their exchange. "We don't have any poles, though… can you manage?"
"Ha! We Zora don't need a land-dweller's sticks to catch fish," Sedge informed him, puffing up a little.
Good one. That'll make him sit still, thought Ruto.
Sedge ambled down to the water, and Link went back to digging in his pack for red potions. (She wondered for the umpteenth time how he could even move, carrying all that stuff.)
"Thanks."
"I'm glad he's all right."
"He's lucky." Ruto shot an exasperated look toward the river.
Link paused in his rummaging. "I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. "For all of this. But don't worry. I won't rest until we catch Ganondorf." Maybe it was the early dawn shadows playing tricks, but in that moment he seemed much older.
"Stop that," she ordered, crossing her arms. He blinked, flabbergasted. "You can't take the blame for everything. It was Zelda's idea, anyway."
His reply was quick and sharp, a reflex. "Zelda didn't do anything wrong."
"Well, neither did you, so quit acting like a martyr!"
He was quiet for a minute, biting the inside of his cheek. In spite of everything, it was slightly adorable.
"You're right. Sorry," he mumbled.
"Stop apologizing. Now give me those," she said, taking the potions from his hands, "because I've got another job for you. We need to get back to the city, and some of us won't be able to walk. You're fast, right? I know you are so don't try to be modest. Run on down to Groslan Ford and see if one of the farmers has a cart we can borrow."
He saluted and sprang into action, all youthful eagerness again. He and Sedge were alike that way, she realized, watching the two wave at each other as Link passed on his way down the road. Restless until they had a mission.
"You hero types," she muttered. "Always so needy."
Early the next afternoon they led Parapa into the throne room, wrists and ankles bound, flanked by knights in front and behind. Four neat columns of elite royal guards surrounded them, with a pair of mage-wardens bringing up the rear. More stood guard at every exit. Crossbowmen lined the balconies above. To the casual observer it might seem over the top, but Link was glad they weren't taking any chances.
Without the bulk of her borrowed armor, Parapa was slender, willowy even—but Link of all people knew better than to equate size with strength. He thought about her tossing the Zora knights aside like flour sacks, the whirling blur of her spear holding off a full squad of their soldiers. After all, she wouldn't have been selected for such a mission unless her skills were top notch. Luckily, the more powerful magic she had unleashed against them came from single-use talismans. Unless she managed to sneak one past Impa, which was about as likely as a cold day in Goron City, the enchanted shackles would easily suppress any spell she attempted on her own.
(Ganondorf with the Triforce of Power would have shredded them like wet paper. But that would never happen now.)
The gallery to the left of the throne was full of long-eared old men in fancy robes. Link could name a handful: Grand Marshal Owlan, fair-haired and severe, Chancellor Potho, short and bespectacled with more mustache than hair, Minister Herald Chirila in his highly fashionable coat. Judging by the looks they gave Parapa, they were already planning her execution. Zelda sat at her father's right hand, Impa hovering over her like a mother eagle guarding her chick.
The chancellor struck the floor with a wooden staff, sending a ringing echo through the chamber. "Parapa of the Mandrag Gerudo," he intoned, warbling and nasally. "You stand accused of espionage, murder, and conspiracy against the crown. Have you anything to say in your defense?"
"I will not give you the satisfaction of hearing me beg for mercy." Parapa's voice was honeyed venom. "My people know exactly how much compassion you have for us."
One of the knights clamped down on her shoulder. "You'll show respect in the presence of our king, you desert witch!"
Parapa's lip curled. "If only I were a witch, I'd teach you some respect."
He raised his gauntlet to strike her, and her face tightened in a way Link knew well, stoic pride bracing to stifle any outward sign of pain. But the king lifted a hand, halting the soldier in his tracks. As always he kept an air of stately dignity; only a deepening crease in his forehead betrayed his agitation. Across the room, Zelda let out the breath she'd been holding.
"Assemble a tribunal," said the king, looking at Parapa but addressing his councilors. "We will conduct her trial in three weeks' time. Until then, find out exactly how much she knew about that stone and her wayward lord's plan. If she will cooperate with us in locating him, perhaps we shall show her some leniency."
"Never," Parapa spat.
He seemed about to speak, changed his mind and set his jaw. "Take her away."
Parapa did not struggle or protest, only cast a burning glance back at him as they led her off to the dungeons.
The king turned to Owlan with a stiff nod. "I want the order given to every knight in Hyrule. Hunt Ganondorf down, and bring him to justice."
From across the room, Zelda met Link's eyes with a look of gratitude and somber satisfaction. In spite of this latest hitch in their plans, she believed they were on the right path this time. He had made a difference.
Sometimes she looked at him like he was the genius, as if it were intuition and not bitter experience that had shown him the consequences of opening the Sacred Realm. She would say that didn't matter, that experience was after all a better teacher. She had not lived through it.
But he knew at this moment there was another Zelda on the other side of time clinging to Impa's back as their horse careened out of Castle Town, turning as she passed, eyes locking with his for a moment and a lifetime. The ocarina splashing into the river. All of her faith and the destiny of the world in his hands. How could he have thought, as a child, that he was ready for such a responsibility? Zelda talked of her foolish pride, but she wasn't the one who had tried to lift the sword. Then at the end she took it all back from him, the burden and the blame and the pride and the future, let him start over while she remained, alone in her shattered kingdom. He carried the scars of their mistake. Zelda carried the world.
The Zelda before him now, still bright and full of faith, didn't understand the gift she had been given, or what it had cost. And she never would.
He would never tell her.