A/N:
As always, I want to extend a million thank yous to Norkix (here on FFnet) for beta reading this chapter. He's amazing at finding inconsistencies and helping me reevaluate certain scenes and language; I'm not sure where this story would be without him!
I also want to extend a huge apology to any consistent readers for the delay. I had no intention of waiting so long to post again, but, family issues arose in my personal life and writing was put on the back burner for a bit. However, this chapter is far longer than any other chapter before it, so I'm hoping that will make up for the gap!
And, finally, in happier news: I've started crossposting to AO3 now! My account can be found under the same username, Hexibora. I've only posted the Prologue for this story thus far, but I plan to post a new chapter each week until it's caught up with FFnet (and then I will post on both sites concurrently).
Apologies for the ramble; enjoy the chapter!
XXXXX
"Ah, Siroc!" Master Smith exclaimed. His head shook with relief, causing the dangling ties from his pine-colored bandana to sway on the back of his neck. "I wasn't expecting to see you until later today. Please, come in."
Just beyond the open door, rain continued to surge and howl; engulfing the whispering trees and dry, crumbling brick in its poignant downpour. The strange visitor, a woman who appeared wrinkled by time and dovish by nature, carefully stepped inside. Behind her, the harsh stamping of rainfall pittered into obscurity as the door closed in one guided motion, with only the sizzle and crackle from the iron hearth and the methodic rattling of dripping water from her clothing left to fill the growing silence.
Zelda clumsily snatched the Fire Element and Water Element that lay on the ground, shoveling them back into her bag and sequestering them from view. I need to be more careful with these, just in case, she thought.
Now, within the enclosed candlelight glow that spread throughout Master Smith's house, Zelda hesitantly studied the new visitor. She was older - closer to Master Smith in age - and cloaked in a thick, wine-colored robe dampened by rain. A curved walking stick was held in her brittle grasp, crafted from cherry oak wood and embellished with notches and scrapes that likely held mystical tales. Her salmon-toned hair was scooped away from her forehead, contained by a golden bangle in a tight, evenly rounded bun. She appeared untroubled and wise beyond her years, commanding reverent respect with each unsteady step she took.
"I'll get you a chair by the hearth and a warm cup of tea," Master Smith declared.
"Thank you, thank you," the stranger replied. "I appreciate your hospitality. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," she added, with her gaze veering to the floor and landing squarely on Zelda's hunched and undignified form.
At once, Zelda stood up, straightening her spine into a faultless line. She smoothed over her cotton skirt and quickly bent her waist into a regal bow. "My apologies for my impolite manners. My name is Zelda," she stated, using a softened inflection that had been trained into the very corners of her bones. "Princess Zelda of Hyrule."
"Oh, dear, I'm quite acquainted with who you are. I must have forgotten my own manners, as I have yet to introduce myself properly. My name is Siroc," the former stranger acknowledged. In the background, the scraping of wood on wood from Master Smith relocating a dining chair, followed closely afterward by the fumbling of ceramicware in the kitchenette muffled Siroc's voice, causing Zelda to lean further toward her. "I am the leader of the Wind Tribe. You're likely familiar with us from Link's stories, I presume?"
Zelda nodded, a spindly smile on her face. "Yes, I am. It's an honor to meet you, Siroc."
"The feeling is mutual," Siroc remarked. Her stare, striking and magnified even behind the crinkled curtains of her timeworn flesh, bore into Zelda. The atmosphere turned sharp purely from her gaze alone, whetted into a crisp point. Siroc's voice lowered to a whisper as she said, "The winds have told me many things, my dear. I know of Vaati's release and Link's subsequent imprisonment in stone. I know you have been seeking the power of the Four Elements to save the Hero of the Minish, and I am aware that you have already received two of these grand artifacts, as well."
Electricity coursed through Zelda's veins, clamping her in place. Her mind felt like it was crammed with gobs of wool and cotton fluff, and all she could utter in return was a broken, "H-huh? What exactly do you mean by this?"
"I needn't plague you with all of the disparities of the winds. Rather, I merely felt it was necessary to come forth with my knowledge regarding your situation. I haven't disclosed what I know about your journey to anyone else. That is, yet, of course," Siroc murmured. Her stare swerved away from Zelda's stiffened form and onto the second dining chair that Master Smith had placed by the fireplace, situated next to his own. She moved past Zelda, with her cane clattering on the floor in tandem with her wobbly steps.
Zelda's gaze sunk to the pale floorboards below, with her thoughts quickly swarming into a baneful whirlwind. What did Siroc mean by 'the winds' told her...? Vaati is a wind mage, could Siroc be working with him somehow? A headache began tugging at the threads of her scalp, threatening to pull her apart at the seams. Can I trust her? It seems Master Smith knows her well enough - but then again, why have I never met her before today?
The sudden thud of ceramic meeting polished wood echoed in the room, followed closely by Master Smith's gritty voice, "Here's your cup of tea, Siroc, just how you like it! I also brought over some brioche bread rolls that I purchased from Wheaton and Pita's Bakery the other day. I figured they'd make as good a breakfast as anything."
A wizened smile thawed onto Siroc's face as she situated herself in her chair and leaned her walking stick against the frail arm of her seat, luring out a string of wooden cackles and groans in its trail. She glanced up as Master Smith began passing in front of her towards his seat, and she breathed out a hushed, "As always, thank you dearly for the refreshments."
"Anytime," he replied, pouring his body into his chair with a soft, sprawling grunt.
Zelda looked between the two, suddenly feeling like she was a Cloud Piranha caught out of water vapor.
Just as Zelda was about to declare her departure, Master Smith trounced on the momentary blip of silence and spoke first. "So, Siroc, what brings you to my home so early in the day? It's not like you to appear unannounced."
"I knew you would ask," Siroc murmured. She took hold of her steaming mug of tea, fumbling with it in her hands, before inhaling a strained breath and drawing her attention back to Master Smith. "Since we had agreed to meet later in the day, I did not intend to interrupt your morning like this. However, last night, tragedy struck the Wind Tribe…"
"What happened?" he queried. Briefly, his gaze turned toward Zelda, and he spared a glance that ingrained a mosaic of conflicting emotions within it - confusion, worry, pique, blame - before his head ultimately pivoted away and focused solely on Siroc again.
Does he think that I… have something to do with this? Zelda distressingly wondered.
Oblivious to their silent interaction, Siroc began, "As you know, the people of the Wind Tribe no longer live in the Palace of Winds as we once had, many, many ages ago. We had relocated from what the Hylians know today as the Wind Ruins, and with our magic, moved our palace up into the sky. Shortly thereafter we took refuge in the Cloud Tops, which is where we live to this day. Yet, regardless of where our home lies, I still keep a secure eye on the location of the Palace of Winds, as many of the Wind Tribe's valuable possessions are concealed behind our barrier of magic within it." She paused, sipping her tea to quench her stilted voice. "The winds alert me each day of its whereabouts, and yet, last night, the winds were lost to me. I can no longer locate the Palace of Winds. I'm sure it's unlikely, but I was hoping you possibly knew of something I currently do not," she finished weakly.
Master Smith, predictably, ran a free hand through his coarse beard, appearing markedly apprehensive. "Hm. It's not often I know something that you don't, now is it?"
A calm, rosy puff of air and a laconic, "Very true," was Siroc's only retort.
The Wind Tribe leader's statement had simultaneously perplexed and captivated Zelda. With just Siroc's description alone, Zelda's mind had seamlessly transported her back to what she had seen - or thought she had seen - the night prior; soaked to her ankles, clutching the Water Element, and resetting her breath beside the silver-gilded waves that ebbed and flowed in Lake Hylia. There, caught in the intricate threading amidst the sailing clouds, an inconspicuous castle had drifted alongside the rippling wind. The glimpse she had witnessed was brief, however, even in that fleeting moment, the atmosphere surrounding the floating building was almost tinged with a malevolent aura, seeping with bitterness between each spackled slab.
Yet, in the next breath, it had vanished.
Could that have been the Palace of Winds that Siroc is describing? she wondered. But did I even truly see that or, again, did my exhausted mind just make that up?
"And what about you, my dear?" Siroc's simmered voice abruptly called out, breaking Zelda's contemplation. "Do you happen to know anything about the Palace of Winds' disappearance?"
Should I tell her about what I saw? "Um," Zelda started, quickly throwing her gaze to the ground and pilfering through the tangled knots of her mind. No, I can't tell her. I hardly know her! I have no idea if what I saw was even really there, anyway. I might accidentally mislead her, or she might be working for Vaati, or… "No, I… I don't know. I've never even heard of the Palace of Winds until now, much less seen it. My apologies for the lack of information, Siroc." Her voice vibrated with unease, coiled in layers of hesitation.
Siroc's stare was harsh, drilling into the boundless corners of Zelda's very soul. "No matter, then," she declared. Her words rang hollow, tumbling out on the tail-end of forged kindness. With a solemn huff of air, she ominously added, "The winds will return to me in time and profess the truth of this situation." Her eyes were galvanic, unmoving, and grim - pressed into her faded skin like large fabric buttons.
All Zelda could do was weakly nod in return.
Two pairs of venerable eyes pierced her idle stance, filling the atmosphere with bitter tension. Zelda knew she needed to leave, return to Hyrule Castle and begin her day anew, but something hovered in the back of her mind; urgent in need, and staunch in its presence. This might be my only chance to ask someone within the Wind Tribe about the Wind Element. I know it's listed on Link's map, but… the area it's in looks utterly foreign to me, from what I can recall. It looks to be somewhere in the clouds. Siroc will likely know more about it than anyone else.
Swallowing an anxious breath, Zelda sheepishly spoke out, "Siroc, if I may, do you happen to know anything about the Wind Element?"
Master Smith swiveled his head to look directly at Zelda, visibly taken aback, with one of his eyebrows pinned upwards.
Siroc's grainy voice replied, "Why do you ask, my dear?"
"I'm just curious. Link, uh," a nerve twitched beneath Zelda's veiled skin, and her voice wavered on his name, "Link had told me about the power of the Four Elements after he had saved Hyrule. I almost wonder if the Wind Element could be utilized to help you locate the Palace of Winds, is all." Her heart rate pulsated between her ears, with chilled flutters racking her body. Zelda hated lying, though, it's just stretching the truth, she told herself, attempting to dissuade her ringing discomfort. Nervously, Zelda extended one of her hands, plucking a buttery roll from the dish Master Smith had carried over earlier.
"I see. In that case," Siroc intoned, her leer never leaving Zelda's face, "I do. In response to your curiosity, I can divulge some of these details. Indeed, the Wind Element is a powerful artifact. It was safeguarded in the decrepit Wind Ruins, overlooked by members wise and powerful hailing from the Wind Tribe for ages upon ages."
Zelda furrowed her brows. Her fingers froze against the bread roll held in her grip, caught pulling a strip off of the pastry to eat. Is that so? But I thought the Wind Ruins were adjacent to Castor Wilds, which, I'm sure is nowhere near that strange clouded area drawn on Link's map. "Ah, but -"
"But," Siroc continued, "Once the Wind Tribe took to the skies, so, too, did the Wind Element. It was transported; placed securely in hiding and left to dwell within The Palace of Winds, safe with its people. It has stayed there ever since, even after the Wind Tribe relocated beyond the sky, to the Cloud Tops."
"So, with The Palace of Winds lost from your vision, the Wind Element is lost as well, then," Zelda replied, pragmatically.
"That is correct, my dear."
A subdued hum rumbled in the back of Zelda's throat. She encased her vocal cords with royal nobility before speaking again, "I extend my deepest apologies to you and the entire Wind Tribe for this loss. I have faith in the goddesses that The Palace of Winds will reveal itself to you again soon."
With her grooved and dimpled fingers, Siroc clutched her walking stick and tapped it against her chair, emitting three short, sour thunks into the crackling room. "I appreciate the sentiment, Princess Zelda. I have witnessed all vital truths come to light eventually, and all within my lifetime. The winds have foretold as much."
Zelda dipped her head into a feeble bow, feeling her blood congeal from Siroc's inconspicuous phrasing. Bundled strands of hair, dried together from the cruel, whipping winds and the heat that radiated from Master Smith's fireplace, covered her face. As her eyes were cast downward and her thoughts resembled that of a child's unsupervised drawing, a glint of something metallic caught her eye, tucked discreetly within her palms.
Privately, in haste, she slid her enclosing thumbs aside, peering at what she had sworn had only been a simple bread roll in her hands. It was still a simple bread roll, yet, tucked deeply within the gluten fibers of the pillowy dough was the unmistakable corner of a gleaming Kinstone piece. It shimmered in pearls of gold and breathtaking lilac underneath the low light; with each jagged curve molded with the indisputable care and bespeaking wishes of the Minish who had crafted it.
Something seemed incredibly uncanny about this particular Kinstone piece, though - a topic that Zelda was certainly no stranger to. She had spent her fair share of evenings hunting for her own collection of vibrant pieces outside of Hyrule Town, fusing them with the horde of pieces Link had also found, both clustered beneath the cratered moon and devolving into giggles at the mismatched outcomes they would often produce. Every Picori Festival that swept Hyrule Town in a tizzy, she could be found wandering amongst the townspeople, collecting lost Kinstone pieces and fusing them with whoever was brave enough to approach her.
However, even with just the faintest sliver of this particular Kinstone piece visible, it looked wrong. The shape seemed to be a crude mix of oval and angular lines, a mismatch of styles that, in Zelda's experience, had never mingled together in prior Kinstone pieces she'd seen. The etchings of the center imagery were hidden, tucked away into the rest of the pastry, but the outline alone was enough to confound her. The discernable snippet looked fuzzy, almost scribbled or blurred away by time, and the color… I've never seen a Kinstone piece this color before. Light purple and glittering gold…?
"Princess Zelda," Master Smith uttered, startling her from her reverie. Zelda shot her head upward, supporting the bread roll in her palm as if it were a treasured gemstone. "I take it that you need to return to Hyrule Castle?"
"Uh, yes. I do. I apologize for the brief conversation."
"No worries," he returned. "Please keep me informed on the… responsibilities you were telling me about earlier, okay?"
Zelda smiled, delicate and wry. "Right, I will. You as well."
He extended a curt nod in her direction and kept his gaze stoic, so as not to illuminate the hidden message embedded within their conversation. Zelda shifted her gaze to Siroc, wholly prepared to bestow a dignified, succinct farewell to her as well, but Siroc's brickle voice ushered into the room counteractively. "Master Smith, dear, would you boil some more water for my tea? I would like to say goodbye to our noble guest with just a bit more privacy afforded to us."
"Err, alright. I suppose that's fine," he said. Master Smith's inquisitive stare landed, yet again, on Zelda's unsuspecting form. In retaliation, Zelda merely lifted her shoulders into a stunted shrug, signaling that her confusion was just as prominent as his.
Master Smith stood, imparting a string of howls and sharp groans as he extended his aching back. He hoisted Siroc's mug from the coffee table and carried it with him, shuffling with heavy steps into the kitchenette corner. The metallic polyphony of pots clanging and running water followed his arrival soon after.
Zelda turned her gaze curiously to Siroc, just as a clattering of dense wood resounded in the room. There, enveloped in brief, vibrating tremors, lay the Wind Tribe leader's walking stick, poised on its side and crushed beneath Siroc's shoe and the wooden floorboards.
"Ah, I apologize for my clumsiness. My dear, since you're already standing, can you please grab that for me? My body is not quite what it used to be."
Zelda blinked, latently, with the twistings of puzzlement blatant on her face. Regardless, her footsteps crept along the floorboards toward Siroc, and she drawled out an unstable, "Sure," as her only reply.
With little distance to cover, the edge of Zelda's shoes quickly pressed against the cane that lay on the ground. She bent at the pleating of her knees to retrieve the distinctive object, snatching one of the smoothed sides with her free hand. But, just before she could unfurl herself fully, a garishly blue object was impelled in front of her face.
"This is the Ocarina of Wind," Siroc murmured, "I believe you have seen it once before, am I correct in this assertion?"
"W-what?" Zelda automatically released the walking stick in her grasp, dimly hearing the rattling of it bouncing on the floor once more. "Why… why are you showing this to me?"
Siroc's coarse voice responded with ease, "Simple. The fabled Hero of the Minish - rather - your dear friend, Link, had utilized this gift from the Wind Tribe when he needed it most during his journey to release you from Vaati's wrath. This is an ancient artifact that has been passed down for generations." Her eyelids rose, with her pupils burrowing illimitable holes into Zelda. "Its tune has the ability to reach the highest density of our blue sky, and consequently, reach the lowest dirt piles spread thin across the crypts beneath Hyrule."
"I… still don't understand."
"This is a gift from me, Princess Zelda. Wherever you may be, play the tune that your heart sings, and there will be guidance gifted to you at that moment."
Zelda gingerly grabbed the ocarina, ogling at the glistening cobalt blue that immersed the instrument in a seamless varnish. No chips or smudges or stains decorated the hollow shell; in fact, the ocarina looked practically new, though it was clear that it had likely just been polished under incessant care.
"I don't even know what to say," Zelda breathed. "Thank you so much, Siroc. I swear on my family's legacy to protect this gift."
"I know as much already, dear, or I would not have bestowed this gift to you," Siroc crooned.
Zelda promptly concealed the Ocarina of Wind in one of her spacious coat pockets, returning a tender smile to Siroc once she had ensured the item was safe. Perhaps I had misjudged her, she thought.
Suddenly, the floorboards creaked, broadcasting Master Smith's imminent return. He dragged his feet across the room, supporting Siroc's ceramic mug in his grip like a solid gold trophy. "Here you are," he proclaimed, with an edge of scrutiny in his voice. He plopped the offering onto the table next to her, swiftly adding, "Did you have enough time to say goodbye?"
"Yes, we did. Thank you," Siroc said.
Zelda stood back up, eyeing Master Smith's intrigued expression. "I truly appreciate both of your time, but I must head back to Hyrule Castle before the sun fully rises. I extend my gratitude to both of you, Master Smith and Siroc."
Master Smith snorted. "Absolutely, Princess Zelda. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me." A broad grin gradually spread onto his face, with the tails of his mustache concealing the whites of his teeth.
Feeling an inkling of hope bubble, boil, and evenly overflow in her heart, Zelda turned on her heel. Her foot, however, collided lightly with an object as she pivoted, causing her to turn back around in confusion.
"Oh," Zelda mumbled, casting her gaze downward, "I forgot to grab your cane, Siroc."
"No matter, dear," Siroc retorted. The Wind Tribe leader bent in her seat without effort, pulling her walking stick from the ground and resetting it by the arm of her chair seamlessly. Threads of deceit interlaced with her unblinking stare, puncturing Zelda once again. A displaced smile, acerbic and taut, fell onto Siroc's face as she disclosed, "It's not a problem for me."
With her mind falling back into the throes of hazy tiredness and confusion, Zelda felt chilled distrust climb the grooves of her spine and swiftly rip away the concrete hope she had been constructing.
Perhaps I didn't misjudge her after all, she internally reflected, overwrought.
Rain had continued to spill from the skies above, hailing fattened droplets across the vast lands of Hyrule. The first rays of sunlight could be seen poking tentatively at the clouds, and they retaliated with an unrelenting downpour. The minute that Zelda had stepped outside of the mannered warmth that encapsulated Master Smith's home, her hair and clothes had become sopping wet, punctuating each sodden step she took with an undelightful squish against the pavement.
The unabating rainfall had quickly derailed her mood, too - and yet, Zelda had still had a burning desire to sate her curiosity regarding the eccentric heirlooms she had pocketed from Master Smith's home.
To bide her time before reaching Hyrule Castle, she had decided to voraciously scarf down the brioche bread roll that had been cradled in her grip; doing so with the sole intention of examining the strange Kinstone piece tucked inside of it more than to fill her stomach.
Free from the baked prison it had been trapped in, the Kinstone piece had looked even more bizarre up close. It had sparkled with a wash of golden glitter overlaying a dusty lilac hue, just as she had spied earlier, and it had been embossed with an ambiguous scribbled outline with - what had seemed to be - a glaring eye motif that had been cut in half down the center. The split seam where the Kinstone piece would connect with its pair had also been just as odd; showcasing a mismatch of oval, angular, and straight lines in uneven, curling patterns.
Having been able to examine the Kinstone piece in its totality, all she could think about was how useful Link would have been at that moment to answer all of her garbled questions regarding… well, everything.
Of course, if Link had been there to help, then Zelda likely wouldn't have had to trudge through the pouring rain with a swathe of healing injuries, an anomalous Kinstone piece, and the Ocarina of Wind that Siroc had eerily presented to her, to begin with.
Which, had only made Zelda shift her thoughts onto the Ocarina of Wind. It had been a strange gift from Siroc; thrust upon her from nothingness. The ocarina had immediately frothed intriguing questions into the forefront of Zelda's mind, like, Had that been the sole reason for Siroc's visit all along? She might have known from the winds that I was going to be there, and so she decided to visit early… I wouldn't put it past her, I suppose… though I truly don't even know her.
Zelda had only been able to recall Link showing the Ocarina of Wind to her once, right after he had defeated Vaati. At the time, the sky had liquefied into an orange and blue blanket above Hyrule, and Link had pulled the instrument out from one of the endless pockets of his tunic. He had played a soft, almost feathery tune - transporting her soul above the popcorned clouds and into the wind itself. She could vaguely recall the flapping of wings and the shadowed silhouette of a bird as he played, too, though it had been hard to remember if that had just been her imagination or reality as she looked back on the memory.
After that evening with Link, though, she had never seen him play the instrument again. In that case, it would have made sense to assume he had given the ocarina back to Siroc. Still, how odd. Why would Siroc have given this to me just now, then?
With Zelda's mind having been pulled into the fruitless puddles of scrutinization during her trek, it hadn't taken long for her to reach Hyrule Castle's gardens. By now, as was routine, she was wordlessly crouched into obscurity, sheltered behind a stout hedge near the balcony of her bedroom.
The sun was barely detectable behind the engorged clouds, leaving a faint divot that looked like someone had pressed into its surface with their thumb and smudged its remains across the gray sky. Despite the fact that Zelda had reached the garden later than she had anticipated - having been kept at Master Smith's house for a greater period of time due to Siroc's arrival - the ashen landscape and stifling storm would hopefully work in her favor for prowling around undetected.
Having finally daydreamed long enough, Zelda dipped her head out from behind the sagging shrubbery. The pathway looked remarkably clear, and she could only hear the loud, clanging echo from the castle knights' stiffened footsteps near Hyrule Castle's entrance behind her. No guards near my bedroom at this time? How unusual, she thought.
Her blood ran cold, suddenly struck with the hair-raising feeling that something was distinctively off about that. Was this the guards' normal schedule, or, was something awry? Once again, her thoughts were working against her; buzzing in her mind like any rainbow of bottled Picolyte.
But, she had to return to her bedroom. And soon, too. If Zelda wasn't in her room when one of the castle maids whirled her large door open to greet her, smile blended with grace and eager to wake her, then…
Like lightning, Zelda bolted from the hedge she was tucked behind. Her footsteps ushered her forward, echoing into the churlish atmosphere. She allowed her mind to disengage and become crowded with emptiness, fully enabling her body to guide her onward without faltering concentration.
After a handful of seconds, she bent into a squatting position behind another hedge swollen with rainwater, this time just below her balcony window. Her blonde hair stuck to her face in thick clumps, and her cotton dress clung to her clammy skin. Her breath blew in a staccato rhythm as she recollected herself, eyeing the wooden ledge of the balcony above her. Plotting her next move.
A leaden hum whipped through the air, reverberating just outside of her hiding spot.
Her heart froze.
"Who's there?" a deep voice grunted. "I saw movement. Come out, now!"
Zelda's blood thinned, pulsing in her ears. Oh, goddesses. What do I do?! She strained her eyes on the shrubbery that had once aided her, but now merely blocked her view; willing the bushy leaves to disperse and allow her to catch sight of the bellowing guard. Her mind was rumbling, swaying, and trimming any coherent thought that ascended to the surface, jumbling her brain like a broken snow globe.
Bulky, iron footsteps pealed in the watery sky, stirring in her direction at an indistinct pace. "This is your final warning. You can either come out by choice, or I can force you out."
Okay, Zelda frantically thought, I just need to think of a story for why I'm out in the garden, that's all. The guard's footsteps drew closer, chiming just outside of the hedge now. Zelda cupped a hand over her heart, striving to slow its frenzied thrum. Her breath blew in short bursts, and her body quivered from both fear and the chilled rain swirled together. You've been caught before, this is no big deal. Just… just focus on a story. Any story.
The bush's silky leaves rustled before her, indicating that her time was up.
In a flash, the filed tip of a silver spear was pointed directly at her, mere inches from her face. The weapon had tunneled its own passage through the branches and greenery that shielded Zelda, with its wielder towering sternly overhead.
Yet, nothing more than the spear slick with rain and creeping silence perforated the distance between the two. The guard's stance faltered a notch as he muttered, "P-Princess Zelda? Is that you?"
With his inflection, briefly, Zelda wondered if she'd heard that courteous voice before. However, just as quickly, her thoughts dissipated into thin air. Surely not, she mused.
Nevertheless, her eyes drifted upwards as she slowly, ever so slowly, met the guard's gaze. Her breath hitched, caught in her throat at the sight. "Rorro?" she whispered in return, her voice raspy.
"Ah, so it is you after all, Princess Zelda," he said. In one breath, his weapon seamlessly retracted from her face. He spun it agilely by his side, stamping the wooden handle into the ground with finality. His free hand descended near her huddled form, gesturing for her to grab hold of it.
Instead, Zelda eyed him wearily. "Rorro… where - where did you come from?"
He chuckled, a light, twinkling sound. "I should be asking you the same thing, shouldn't I?"
Her eyes narrowed, but she recognized who had the upper hand in this interaction. With defeat scrawled on her face, she placed her hand delicately in his, allowing him to pull her up.
"I apologize for drawing my weapon on you, Princess Zelda. If I had known it was you, I would have done no such thing. However," he drawled, locking his solicitous gaze on her, "I do have a duty to inquire why you're outside of Hyrule Castle unsupervised. In the pouring rain, no less?"
The two parted hands with Zelda's back now stabilized against the brick wall. She recited a casual, "Right, why I'm out here," in response, stalling for time. She nervously brushed the skirt of her saturated dress in one swift motion, flinging more water droplets onto the flooding ground. "Truth be told, I came out here to… get some fresh air. I've been spending so much of my time planning the Picori Festival, I feel that I've missed enjoying the sights of nature."
"Is that so?"
Zelda nodded, refusing to meet his stare.
"Interesting," Rorro murmured. "I must admit, Princess Zelda, I don't believe you at all."
Her gaze snapped to his, eyes remarkably wide. "What do you mean? Why don't you believe me?"
He rubbed his chin cooly, his gaze now drawn to the rippling clouds above. "Well, to start, I find it quite hard to believe that you'd want to enjoy the fresh air in this weather. I happen to know how much you dislike the rain, Princess Zelda." His leer fell back onto her, pinning her in place. "However, more than that, I know about your plan to save Link. I'm sure you're out here trying to return to your bedroom before anyone catches you. Is that right?" he tutted.
A dark, swirling aura tumbled around Zelda's stock still form at his admission.
"Please," he continued, "Don't try to lie to me. I saw proof of my claims."
A fragment of her voice returned, allowing her to stutter out a whittled, "What… what do you mean by 'proof', Rorro?"
"Hm. I'll tell you, but know that I have only ever followed my orders as directed. I would never intend to breach your privacy, Princess Zelda." She raised an eyebrow at his cryptic response, waiting for him to continue. His voice came out in waves, melting like softened steel. "You see, King Daltus has entrusted me with ensuring your overall safety and compliance with his orders. He had recently tasked me to perform a nightly check-up on you, just to confirm you were still within Hyrule Castle's walls and that you were still out of harm's way. He's very worried about Vaati's release and how that might impact you, as I'm sure you're aware," he said.
"I'm not quite sure how this ties in with your claims," Zelda retorted. Internally, panic began to set in, rising at the realization that her father had sicced guards on her already. She worried he would stoop to this level eventually, forcing her to conform to his rules and regulations. Though, she hadn't thought he would do so without her first getting caught, providing him a reason to hammer his overprotective concern onto her.
Rorro's eyebrows drew downward, carving out pointed slopes of disdain. "Last night I went to examine your room, and I found damning evidence that you have been sneaking out on your own. I haven't revealed what I saw to King Daltus or the other guards, as I wanted to speak with you first, Princess Zelda."
"Well," she said, "What exactly did you see?"
"I saw your dirtied archery boots flung about with wild abandon next to a pile of other outdoor garments. There was a crumpled, aged map of Hyrule with a bold checkmark across Mt. Crenel, and, most incriminating of all," he paused to swallow an aerated breath, "I saw what could have only been the famed Water Element. It was shoved into the corner of your room, but it was glowing a magnificent shade of blue that I had never seen before, and it was visible even in the darkness."
Her vision blurred, liquefying into the bitter weather around her. She forced her body's weight more firmly against the exterior of the building, trying to keep her back afloat and upright. She felt her veins freeze into icicled pathways, felt her heartbeat accelerate, and she felt her bones fuse into a crackling, stiffened angle.
How could somebody outside of her control deduce her plan already?
Rorro gruffly cleared his throat, seeking her attention. "However, Princess Zelda, I must repeat myself by saying that I have yet to tell anyone else about this. As much as I hate to admit it, if what I saw is true, you've done an incredible job on your journey to save Link. Much better than any of the other guards here have, myself included."
Zelda's eyes were glued to the muddied soil below, allowing the surging rain to conceal her flickering expression.
"If you can provide me with a reason not to tell King Daltus, I might listen to you," he offered.
Her ears perked up, though her body remained wilted. She felt torn. It was unlikely that anybody else within Hyrule Castle would have extended this level of patience and tolerance with her, Zelda was certainly aware, but that didn't quell the alarming strain trailing just beneath the thin coating of her flesh. It was openly deflating to have her plan unraveled twice in one day; first, by the mere intuition Siroc seemed to hold, and now, by her own lack of caution. It was frustrating and humiliating, causing her to pause all reason.
But, she was also so close to finding all of the Four Elements and saving Link. If she gave up now, surrendered what she had and called it off with Master Smith, Link would be trapped in stone forever, locked behind a dusty bookshelf hidden within Hyrule Castle. She wanted - truly needed - to continue barreling ahead in order to free Link.
Right now, the only way to continue doing so was for Zelda to fully place her trust in Rorro, even if she didn't wish to.
"Rorro, I… I want to extend my gratitude, for not telling others about what you saw." Her voice wavered in pitch, presenting her uncertainty beneath a blaring spotlight. "You are correct in your assumption. As soon as I saw Link forced into the same fate I had been all those years ago, I just knew that things wouldn't be tackled accordingly to save him. Link had saved me once before, and I knew that I had to put matters into my own hands to repay that favor," she sighed, "I've already recovered the Fire Element and Water Element, and I'm making strides to find the remaining Earth Element and Wind Element, too. I know that I can't force you to keep this information to yourself, but I can recount something you told me when we first met, to maybe change your mind."
He rose a lone eyebrow incredulously. "Which is?"
Zelda sucked in a sharp breath of air, responding in full, "You told me that you promised on your family's honor to protect Hyrule, and that you intended to do everything within your power to secure that promise." She met his gaze, feeling the kindling behind her stare ignite. "If you force me to turn over what I have and dissolve my plan, then Link will erode with time as a stone statue. Without Link, and especially with Vaati released from the Four Sword, the people of Hyrule will not be protected from his eventual attack. That would go against everything you vowed on oath for."
Soft clattering of metal sounded in the distance, muffled faintly by the pouring rain. Rorro's expression scrunched up, a flicker of something akin to derision speckled in his gaze, before his visage became wholly unreadable. "Princess Zelda, unless you want to be found by another guard and have to explain yourself again, then I suggest you return to your bedroom."
She didn't move an inch, sensing Rorro's sudden discomfort. "Then, you will agree?"
"Agree?"
"Agree to keep what I told you just between us." Her posture had straightened and her words cascaded with heft. She was still at a disadvantage, but she vehemently refused to back down. I have to do everything within my power for Link, she repeated to herself, it's what he would do for me.
Rorro exhaled, visually becoming more and more unwound as the distant metallic shuffling increased in volume and stride. "I will agree to that for now, however, I would also like to talk in private. Since I'm tasked with checking on you every night, why don't I just wake you then?"
Zelda restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Another night event, huh? Perhaps I should just become nocturnal.
Instead, she replied with a terse, "Alright." Exulted by the power imbalance somehow shifting in her favor, Zelda finally swiveled her body around and gripped the wooden ledge of her bedroom window. She turned her head to the side to look at Rorro again, with a crooked smile pressed onto her face. "I sincerely appreciate your help, Rorro. I trust you will maintain your promise to me."
He smiled in return; a smile that seemed marred by a cratered surface, akin to the crescent moon. "Thank you, Princess Zelda. I promise not to let you down."
In one swift motion, she hoisted her body skyward, thrust her unlocked window open, and tilted her upper half forward before gracefully tumbling onto the plush carpet of her room. Her breathing labored as she composed her shaking arms, feeling grateful that her shoulder wound had healed enough to only elicit a dimmed, tugging pain now. She could still vividly recall the searing agony she had felt merely days prior, causing her to shudder.
She carefully extended her spine into a standing position, watching a dense puddle form atop her bedroom floor, greedily collecting the rainwater from her clothing, hair, and skin. She was wholly soaked to the bone, suddenly realizing how frigid and soggy she had become during the time she had spent outside - openly inviting the rain upon herself.
Wrought with curiosity regarding Rorro's untangling discomfort, Zelda spun on her heel and eyed the garden that lay just beyond her misted glass window. She took notice of a new guard steadying himself into a watchful position, poised below her balcony - yet, this new guard was also notably alone, with no one else in sight. How could Rorro have fled so quickly? I should still be able to see him on a nearby pathway, shouldn't I? Her eyes squinted in confusion, studying the landscape before her. Am I missing something?
A fragmented knock bounced into the room, soon followed by the croaking of Zelda's spinning door hinge. "Good morning, Princess Zelda," a woman's voice greeted, rich with honeyed cheer.
Zelda rotated, turning her back to the balcony window. Water continued to drip in thick beads from her disheveled body, soaking into the floor and wrapping her stuffy room with the earthy scent of petrichor. "Good morning," Zelda responded in tune.
The entering maid held a silver platter in her grip, stacked with a cup of steaming herbal tea and a mound of mismatched snacks. "I brought some tea to help you warm up this morning since it's rain -" Her sentence hit a wall, with her heeled steps pausing in tandem. The serving dish wobbled in her hands as she examined Zelda's waterlogged form. "P-Princess Zelda?! Why are you drenched from head to toe?"
Zelda grinned. "My apologies. I woke up early and wanted to view the rain. I suppose I stayed by my balcony longer than I should have."
The maid could only sigh in response, utterly deflated.
Zelda's shoes audibly clicked atop the linoleum pathway; a familiar sound to her pointed ears.
It had been a boring day, filled with lengthy meetings and far-reaching smiles. The rain had continued to swelter outside, and as such, any of her scheduled high-paced, action-packed activities had been canceled - much to her chagrin.
To capitalize on the extra time in their day, Minister Potho and King Daltus had suggested that they work on planning the Picori Festival earlier than slated, at a time when Zelda would have otherwise hoped to have been cocooned in her warm blanket, stuffed with full-flavored food, and seconds away from drifting into a light slumber before the dreaded night fell.
No matter, she thought, Perhaps now will be a good time to ask about the books I've seen them reading.
A tepid pearl of sweat collected by her temple as her hand found purchase on the office door's large handle and swung it open, flooding the dull room with gusts of light. Stocky, golden embers sat dutifully atop pillars of wax, bobbing back and forth to welcome her into the cluttered room.
The first thing she noticed was Minister Potho, perched in a velvet chair much too big for his petite stature. Next to him, on either arm of his chair, dirtied stacks of books lay in waiting - begging to have their dusty pages turned and read. He cradled a dark, hefty-looking novel in his lap, with his eyes wholly glued to the yellowing pages.
Similarly, sitting to his right, King Daltus was also holed up in a large, matching chair. His legs were crossed elegantly, with his shoulders squared flush against the backrest. A book - smaller in size and made of crinkly, thin sheets of paper - was tugged open in his grip. It had been hoisted into the air, pulled level to his vision and blocking any view of the doorway.
"Good afternoon," Zelda muttered. She quickly turned on her heel and shut the door, drenching the room amid the solitary glow of candlelight once again.
Minister Potho jumped in his seat, slinging his head upward to glare at Zelda. King Daltus, on the other hand, hastily shoved the book he had been holding into his lap, further wrinkling the brittle pages in his excitement. A toothy grin lit up his face as he exclaimed, "My dear daughter, Zelda. Welcome! How wonderful for you to join us."
"Right," she said, "As I do every day."
"Well, I feel inclined to report that you're late again, Princess Zelda," Minister Potho scowled. His fingers tunelessly drummed against the open page of his book; his lips set into a frown. "You have yet to arrive at the scheduled time for our planning meetings."
Zelda clenched her jaw, biting back the myriad of insults that jogged through her mind. Rather, she merely replied with a lukewarm, "My sincerest apologies."
The atmosphere felt exceptionally terse; constricted in thick, wiry strands of tension. Both King Daltus and Minister Potho bestowed resolute stares onto Zelda's standing form - King Daltus, full of familial love intertwined with unease, and Minister Potho, brimming with fiery agitation behind his bespectacled glare.
Looking between the two, Zelda almost held her tongue, biting back the question that plagued her fraying mind.
Almost.
"I have a question," she began, gaze narrowing onto an unsteady, twisted pile of books near her father, "Whilst I've been selecting vendors and completing paperwork for the upcoming Picori Festival, both of you have been spending this time engrossed in odd books that are, frankly, littered throughout this office." With a curious frown tugging at her lips, she looked between Minister Potho and King Daltus for a moment, settling her stare on the latter before asking, "What topics have you been reading about?"
King Daltus seemed wounded by her question, allowing a flash of despair to cross his dusted eyes. Then, slowly, the jagged wrinkles embedded into his skin and the purpled bags beneath his eyes - so deep that they spun stories of night terrors and sleepless eves by mere glance alone - took focus, conveying a message no words could accurately capture and express.
Carved into his bones and pulsing through his blood was sheer, unsullied, haunting terror.
King Daltus scrunched his eyes, creating a dimpled fold just above his nose bridge, He inhaled a sheet of air in an attempt to speak - to explain - right as Minister Potho chimed in instead, "Princess Zelda, if I may, the books that King Daltus and I have been reading are truly no business of yours to worry about."
"He's… he's right," King Daltus sighed. "Please just carry on with the paperwork you've been dealing with, Zelda. It's a huge help."
Typically, she would have countered their statements. She would have argued, bludgeoned them with questions, and skyrocketed their tempers beyond their absolute boiling points.
She would have, but not now; not after the look that had been scrawled onto her father's face. For now, she would just have to accept their responses.
"Thank you for letting me know," she calmly replied. "I'll get started on my work, then."
Zelda noticed the exchanged look of confusion split between King Daltus and Minister Potho as she passed their cornered chairs, sauntering towards the main desk in the office space. The stiff tension in the air gradually fizzled out as she folded into her seat, finding both her father and Minister Potho fully engrossed in their reading again, holed up in solitude as if nothing had transpired.
She slumped in her chair, propped her elbow on top of the rigid surface of the desk, and tucked her chin into the palm of her hand. How odd, Zelda mused, Now I wonder even more what it is that they're reading about. What could it entail if even I can't know about it?
In the corner of her eye, something stocky and crimson glimmered in the dim lighting, abruptly stealing her attention. She unfurled her scrunched position and peered at the perpetrating area, becoming awash in confusion at what her gaze landed upon.
Minister Potho's second desk drawer had been pulled slightly ajar, allowing the contents of the cabinet - which had only ever been locked to Zelda's prying eyes - to be visible. Inside, a single book shimmered. From her view, it seemed to be rather thick in size, built from raw leather and twine. It wept with the soul of a time-honored spirit, and donned a vibrant red cover with the title Picori Incantations stamped onto it in large, bulky letters. It was so eye-catching, unlike any other book she had ever seen.
Impulsively, Zelda took hold of the strange novel. She plucked it from the confines of its darkened prison and settled it atop the desk, perched behind an endless stack of papers to conceal its placement.
Her hand sprung to life with vigor, turning the cover and flipping through each dull page with curiosity and care. Unfamiliar imagery decorated a plethora of the pages, accompanied by a strange language that, at first glance, appeared comparable to Hylian, but upon further review wasn't quite exact. The handwriting was neat, precise, and ended each entry with a hand-drawn symbol; a hollow three-leaf clover, filled with some amalgamation of a spiral and triangle conjoined in the center.
Sheltered in a trance, Zelda hardly noticed the mellow gust of wind that tickled the back of her neck, luring her into its sinister illusion. By the time her ears twitched with realization and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand taut, it was too late. Her body became cemented in place, baked with scraps of hardened metal and pulled into immobility.
With this strange, hulking book sprawled before her on display, the threadbare pages began turning on their own. They fluttered in a silent dance, pushed and pulled by an unseen breeze, and inundated Zelda with an onslaught of pencil drawings and smeared blocks of text.
Her eyes all but strained shut, sick from image fatigue and the panic that had begun simmering in her core. Her mind had grown silent; drenched in complete numbness and lethargy.
It wasn't until a silken voice materialized near her ear, whispering in warm, hushed breaths, that her eyes shot fully open once again.
"We just have to stop meeting like this; don't you agree, princess?"
Vaati.
Even though her flesh felt more akin to slabs of lead, Zelda still unearthed enough strength to barter a scowl on her face. Her pupils shifted, scanning the untidied office. Can my father or Minister Potho hear him? Can they even see me right now?
"Ah, you know," Vaati continued, his tone airy and wicked, "Time is surely coming to an end. Aren't you just burning with excitement?"
Neither Minister Potho nor King Daltus seemed perturbed. The quiet flap of their mystery pages turning, the soft jangling of Minister Potho adjusting his opaque glasses; neither of them could see Zelda now, rooted to the floor and plagued by Vaati's deception.
"I truly cannot wait, princess. Soak in what you have now, as you surely won't have it for long."
Vaati's swirling voice had lightened, nearly fading into the chalky atmosphere. Suddenly, the feeling in Zelda's limbs reconnected and amplified, shooting static vibrations between the pathways of her nerves. She shook her head, briefly testing her regained mobility, before catching onto Vaati's parting words.
"We'll be seeing each other soon."
Her head churned. That interaction had seemed so real and yet, also - so fake. Why had he been there, if he had even been there at all? Why would he relay that information to her; was it just to cause her more unfounded stress? To toy with her? What… what just happened?
Her blood had run cold, feeling replaced by streams of soured nectar. Bit by bit, Zelda's eyes drifted back to the book she had found, mesmerizingly splayed open in front of her. The page currently on display was decorated with far more ink than paper, covered with strange drawings that depicted a large figure shrinking into a figure smaller than a grain of rice. Explanatory - or, at least, Zelda presumed it was explanatory - text accompanied these images, housed on the final wisps of free space that the diagrams hadn't pilfered.
It was spellbinding. Zelda couldn't help but let her gaze linger, blotting the information from the page as though she were a sponge; allowing the deluge of this unseen documentation to console her aching heart and overtired mind.