Plots and Plans
"She was so beautiful. I so wish you had seen her."
Fran Marcaster strode quickly down the near deserted streets of Lon Lon Village, his daughter skipping lightly beside him. The early morning sun crept over the wooden huts and taverns, not yet giving off enough heat to dispel the biting chill. Tightening his wolfskin coat, Fran passed the street sweepers dusting down shop entrances. He gave short, curt nods to those early risers who recognised him as they prepared their businesses for the day ahead. Fran didn't have time to stop and chat.
"The Queen? It was really her?" he asked, turning to his daughter. Dressed in a light brown dress that complemented her darkish hair, Tessa Marcaster broke into a wide grin that made Fran's heart ache. She looked so much like her mother that he sometimes had to catch himself from calling her by his dead wife's name. Myra still dominated his life even though she'd been gone eight summers now. He would talk to her when he was worried or needed company, whispering silently to thin air, often before he fell asleep. When he was annoyed with Tessa he would rant about his wife's shortcomings, though that would usually keep him up all night in guilty anguish.
"Of course, Papa," she said, her face still soft from her eighteen summers of age. She sighed. "In a pretty pink dress. No one could take their eyes off of her. And then she welcomed us all to the castle, smiling so beautifully that we all just wanted to fall in love with her." She paused. "I wish I were as grand as her."
Fran stopped short, spun on his heels, and took his daughter's hand in his own. It was icy cold, her skin was thick and calloused It hurt Fran to see how much his daughter had to work and suffer just so that they could get by. He was no slouch himself - he was a hunter, tracking animals by night, then feasting on the meat by day and selling the skins to the weavers in his small shop. Tessa, though, spent each day at Old Nan's cheerily grinding corn and making bread. Old Nan's trade had shot up as a result. People would only buy bread from the spinster just so they could see Tessa's smile, forgetting their worries as they chatted to her. She always managed to make people feel better. The few extra rupees she earned helped them both pay for extra food, clothes and the fee for their house. The wealth that had engulfed Hyrule had missed Fran. That stung him, not because he was bitter, but because his daughter deserved much better.
"Tessa," he said, looking into her face. "You are far more grand and beautiful then any Queen Hyrule could produce."
Rose flushed into her cheeks, her eyes dropping downwards with a shy glance. Fran remembered seeing that blush when she had had to stitch Link's wounds after he had dragged the Hero of Time to his house. Typically Fran was useless with a thread, and he had let Tessa tend to the young man's wounds. Myra would have scolded him had she been there. Fran had been careful though to only limit her to the wounds on his chest, arms and face. Thankfully, Link had not been too seriously wounded anywhere below that.
Link. Fran had fretted over the Hero's predicament so much that he had completely failed to notice the gossip sweeping around the town. Everyone had been talking about the Queen's sudden reappearance. Tessa had probably told him once already, but he hadn't heard.
Still hand in hand they walked towards the Guardhouse where Link was being held. Tessa gazed in interest at some of the elaborate and brightly coloured pottery displayed in some of the newly opened shops as Fran mulled over what the Hero had told him.
He had no reason to disbelieve Link's tale, yet he had had a very hard time digesting the fact that the King was a cold-blooded murderer. He knew Talon, the Ranch Owner, only in passing. Fran knew that he had lost a daughter, and he could sympathise with that. He admired the man's strength - he himself would not have been able to keep on going if Tessa died. The rotund man never talked about how Malon had died. Why had King Cyle done such a thing?
But Fran did not know him and Link clearly did. Fran only knew what was spread by the Royal Messengers that came calling every week, singing the King's praises in the village square. Fran was too old and too intelligent to be fooled by words like that. Besides, the man himself seemed to have a hard edge that drove people to express their love for the Royals only through the Queen. Though most begrudgingly acknowledged the wealth that had come to them since Cyle had been in power, secretly people hoped that it had really been Zelda who had blessed them with this gift. Still. A murderer?
They walked into the Guardhouse, welcoming the warmth of the building. One of the constables looked up, but seeing after who it was, he just flicked his hand in the direction of Link's cell. Fran had become a regular visitor to the House over the past few days.
The House was populated by local Lon Lon officer, not Royal Guards. The officers had recognised Link and had shooed him into the cell before anyone else could intervene. For some reason, Talon had not given away Link's identity, though he did check in everyday to ask when 'justice would be served'. They had anguished over locking up their Hero, and had decided to send a letter to the castle to ask for advice. Talon had agreed to wait until the reply came. Fran had managed to convince the officers to have the letter sent directly to the Queen. He didn' know how much that would help, but he knew it would be a lot better than having His Majesty bear down on the village.
"Fran!" Link's voice was warm and strong. Fran had noticed that, despite his surroundings, Link had lost a lot of tension. He smiled more easily now and he carried himself in a more relaxed manner. Perhaps opening the past to him had let Link unburden himself. Fran wondered why Link had chosen him of all people to be the recipient of his story, but decided that perhaps circumstances had given the Hero no choice.
"Link," Fran smiled. "How are you?"
The Hero of Time walked up to the cold steel bars, smiling. "Oh, you know. It's just like living in a palace. Good food, good company." He winked as one of the guards scowled. "I heartily recommend it."
"Hello, Link," Tessa grinned. "I brought you some food." She lifted a small, carefully wrapped package from her basket, instantly flooding the room with the smell of warm, sweet bread. She poked it through the space in the bars as the guards pretended not to notice. Their respect for the Hero of Time meant that they let him have a few small liberties.
Link grinned back. "Ah, the lovely Tessa." She blushed as he bowed, melodramatically sweeping his arm. He took the package and thanked her quietly. "Old Fran dragged you out in the cold, did he?" He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I think ... that your father may have been a wee bit afraid of some lingering Stalfos and he knew that they would flee from the radiance of your face."
The radiance of her face? Fran narrowed his eyes as Tessa giggled. He decided that he preferred Link when he was a little bit less relaxed. This was not good, though. He didn't want Tessa to get too attached to the Hero of Time. There would be nothing but pain and heartache down that path.
Perhaps noticing the look on his face, Link turned back to him, a little bit more serious. "Any news from the castle?"
"No, not yet." Fran hadn't told him that the letter was not going to the King. Somehow he felt that Link would not appreciate it. "I'm sorry, Link."
"Then I must find another way out of here," Link said, his voice down to a whisper. "I have to find my friend."
"The woman?" Fran said, remembering that Link had mentioned her the day he had awoken. He caught Tessa flinching at the mention of Link's friend and did not like it one bit.
"She's taken an oath of allegiance with me." Interesting. Link now had an apprentice? "It is my responsibility to make sure she is safe."
"I understand," said Fran, idly scratching at the steel. "But what can we do?"
Link stepped away from the bars, lightly kicking at the dustballs by his feet. "Let me talk to Talon …"
"Link", Fran said, the blunt edge of a warning clear in his voice.
"He'll see sense! If I just explained ..."
"Link!" The sharpness in his tone silenced the Hero. "He won't see sense." Fran cocked his head slightly towards his own daughter. "Trust me. He won't."
Link rested his head against the bars and sighed. "Then I am at the mercy of the King," he said, bitterness wrapping itself around his words.
2
Zayna couldn't remember how long she had been hanging to the wall of this dimly lit, damp prison. Arms outstretched, she was pinned to the stone by iron clasps. She heard rats squeaking, scurrying about around her feet. Food was a few crumbs sprinkled onto her lips every few ... hours? Days? She didn't know. It was hard to determine the passage of time when the light only changed from dim to dimmer. Water was splashed onto her face occasionally. It trickled down, and sometimes she managed to catch a few drops in her mouth.
She knew where she was, though. Chalance Vance's dungeons were buried deep beneath the Temple of Time. The sorcerer himself now made his residence in the sacred building, his presence a poison to the subtle otherworldly forces that bind Hyrule.
"Key." She heard his voice and felt his gaze. Zayna kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep. "Key, look at me."
Slowly, she opened her eyes, raising her head to meet Chalance Vance's emotionless stare. "Do not call me that," she whispered, her voice weak and tinny.
"Why not, Key?" Vance asked. "It is what you are. It is why you were born."
"I am a person," she said, trying to give her voice some strength. "I am no one's tool."
There was silence. Zayna let her eyes close, thinking that the sorcerer had left. His voice broke through her mistake.
"I beg to differ. You are the most powerful creature in this world." He stopped. She heard his voice from one ear to the other and she realised that he was walking from side to side. "And now you are under my control. So ... if you are the most powerful, what does that make me?"
Zayna could not resist. "An impotent coward."
She sensed the stare again, this time feeling the heat of his hatred and fury. "You would be advised not to take me lightly," he said.
She looked up again, this time with narrowed eyes. "Nor should you underestimate me, Chalance Vance."
Again there was silence. "I do not," he said simply.
"There is the other."
First, she thought that Vance had been overcome with a coughing fit. Then she realised that he was laughing.
"No," he said. "We have taken care of the other. A long time ago."
"You will not be able to make me do what you want."
"Willingly or unwillingly, my dear, you will do my bidding."
"What of the King? Surely he wants a piece of the pie?"
"The King is a stupid fool." Zayna was surprised by the anger in his voice. "It pleases me to let him be led to his doom. When the time comes, it will be me and only me who reaps the benefit."
She didn't reply for a moment. A question gnawed at her from within, but for some reason she feared the answer. Taking a deep, painful breath, she summoned the courage to ask, "What of Link? What of the Hero of Time?"
Zayna heard Vance shuffle, seemingly considering his answer. He walked up to the energy bars that held her captive and peered at her. Zayna looked back, her heart skipping in anxiety. His answer chilled her soul.
"Why, the Hero of Time is dead."
3
Strange. Zelda watched the red and blue clad soldiers of the Hyrulian Army practice manoeuvres in the castle courtyard, their blades glistening in the noonday sun. Usually there would be only fifty or so troops going through the daily routine and over the last day or so that number had swelled to over two hundred. She had also noticed other packs of soldiers leaving the castle almost every hour now, both during the day and night. Some she saw were headed to the armoury not too far from the castle where the long disused machines of war gathered dust and rot. She wondered whether this was a public display of strength just to cow the Freelander Prince.
"We are honoured that you have granted us yet another audience." Zelda turned from the window to face Prince Chizan, sitting at the polished wooden table of the castle's conference room. Flanked by his guards, the Queen was once again struck by the beauty of his appearance.
Tyron had managed to arrange this meeting, their third of the day, while Cyle took a trip to Gerudo Valley to sort out a trade dispute there. Normally, the King would have considered something as trivial as that beneath him, but the Gerudo had asked for him specifically. Zelda silently gave thanks to Nabooru for arranging the diversion. The Gerudo had been reluctant to stage the deception, but had given in due to their friendship with the Queen. However, they had made it clear that they would stay neutral in whatever was to come in the future.
"It is we that are honoured," Tyron answered on her behalf. Even he looked a little in awe. "It has been so long since Hylians and Freelanders have met like this."
"Nay," the Prince answered. "Today I am in illustrious company. You are well known to us, Tyron Bellisare and the Queen," he turned to regard her with a smile, "Her exploits against the Dark Lord are celebrated throughout our land. She is a worthy ruler to this nation of yours."
Zelda blushed slightly, briefly wondering what Tyron had done to make himself so infamous with the Freelanders. "You are too kind, Your Highness," she said, sitting down at the head of the table. Sunlight poured through the windows, filling the room with lazy heat. She watched particles of dust floating in the warm air.
"The Queen wishes that ... ah, our two nations can forge a bond of friendship," Tyron said. Their first two meetings had just been pleasant small talk, comparing cultures and countries. Now it was time to bring things to a head.
Chizan's eyes flickered. "A friendship between the Emirate and Hyrule ... or a pact between her and myself?"
Tyron moved to speak, but Zelda cut him off. "You are wise, Your Highness. There would, of course, be no formal terms except ... that you would aid me when I needed it and I would aid you whenever you needed it." She felt a bit embarrassed. Looking at the heavily armoured Freelanders, she knew that they did not need her help for anything.
The Prince gazed at her with his usual serene expression, considering his words. "It would be a great … honour to be allied to one such as yourself, Queen Zelda. There would be much rejoicing in Freelander lands. But …" he chewed on his cheek as Zelda braced herself. "We have not interfered in the affairs of your land for many eons and we see no reason to do so now."
Zelda's heart sank as the Prince stood up. He moved to the window and peered out, watching the soldiers, a thoughtful expression clouding his golden face. "I am not comfortable about what is happening in Hyrule. My fear is that whatever is started here will spread to the whole world."
The Queen decided to be frank. "The more allies I have, the less Cyle can do. Surely, you can see that?"
"The King is a dangerous man. I have observed him the past few days. He is no Hero," Chizan said. "His Advisor ... well, let us just say that power should not be given to men like them. They are evil."
Something tugged at Zelda, hearing her husband be described in such a way. She dismissed it from her mind. The time for sentiment was long past. Still, she was surprised to hear Link's voice echo in her head, 'You're making a mistake.'
The Prince turned to Tyron. "How do you see this? I think you fear more than you let on."
"I do," Tyron said. Zelda was slightly confused. "But what you are implying is dangerous. Who would do it and on what pretext?"
"A pre-emptive strike. For the good of the people," the Prince said, before turning back to the Queen. "Her Majesty can do the task. She has already set it into motion, though she realises it not. She has one Heroic Deed ... another is of no harm."
Zelda shook her head. What was he talking about? "Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean?" Her eyes darted from one man to the other. "Pre emptive strike?"
The two men glanced at each other, before Tyron spoke, his eyes sad, but full of affection. "The Prince is trying to say that," he said slowly, "the King must be removed. Permanently."
4
Link tried to work out how long he'd been cooped up in this cell. It must be close to a week now. He must be the only prisoner to have ever received preferential treatment. The guards seemed to be a bit uncomfortable with him being locked up, and so they had tried to make his stay as pleasing as possible, giving him extra food in addition to the prison slop and letting Fran and Tessa visit as much as they wanted.
At first, the guards had not spoken to him, but over time one or two said a few words, before some of the braver ones asked about his adventures in the past. Pretty soon, they had a nightly ritual where the guards would huddle around Link's cell, clutching their stained, wooden mugs, while he told them stories in a hushed voice. Link had taken comfort in the small companionship.
And yet, it didn't ease his frustration. He was now split in many different directions. He was no closer to finding out what had happened at the Melody Forest Village, he had yet to meet with the Gorons, and the Demon Riders had taken Zayna to Triforce knows where. He wondered if Darunia and Zayna were even still alive. Why was Zayna so important to creatures as foul as the Riders? Link slapped the bars, filling the Guardhouse with a metallic echo. And he was still stuck in here with no idea how to get out! He hoped that Cyle would release him, simply out of morbid curiosity. Another part of him realised that the King may just let him rot here. He could do nothing until the reply came from the castle.
Talon had surprised him one day with a visit. Link's mouth had dried, and all the speeches that he'd elaborately worked out in his head had melted away. Talon had peered through the bars, fixing him with a stare that had frightened Link more than any encounter with Ganon could have. The man had not said a single word. He had stared, spun on his heels and left, leaving Link to let out a sigh he hadn't even realised he was keeping in.
Suddenly he saw a commotion at the entrance of the Guardhouse, his heart trembling in hope as his eyes found the newly-arrived Royal Messenger. Link caught a few words before seeing the Lon Lon officer point in the direction of his cell. Link got up and held onto the bars as the Messenger marched up to him.
"Link, Hero of Time," the Messenger said, his inflected royal voice sounding strange after all this time just listening to local Lon Lon accents.
"Yes," Link replied.
"I have here an order for your release."
Link didn't reply, waiting for the catch he knew was surely there.
"There is a condition though," the Messenger continued.
"Name it."
"You will only be released if you agree to be taken directly to the castle itself."
"And who has summoned me there?" asked Link, wondering why Cyle would want to see him after all these summers. The King probably wanted to humiliate him further, and Link momentarily wondered whether he shouldn't just stay in the cell.
The Messenger cocked an eyebrow, then proclaimed: "Her Majesty, the Queen."