"You will refer to me as Prince Lincoln," the Prince said tonelessly, not bothering to speak over his shoulder as Zelda scurried after him down another stone hallway in the castle. "Or Your Highness, or my Lord."

"Y-yes, Prince."

"And regardless of what my father told you, I do not require protection." Prince Lincoln's boots slapped heartily on the stone floor. "I am more than capable of protecting myself, likely more capable than you are."

"But...your highness, just because I don't understand how my power works doesn't mean I'm incapable," Zelda protested.

The Prince rounded on her, his icy blue eyes flashing. "On the contrary. That is exactly what that means."

"Forgive me, your highness," Zelda ducked her head in a quick curtsy. "But I am a highly capable forager mage, and I had understood you were in particular danger from the malice. I will protect you as best I can."

Prince Lincoln snorted derisively and brushed his sandy blond hair out of his eyes. "Don't tell me you actually believe those prophecies the Sheikah fed you."

"And why shouldn't I?" Zelda countered, her heart pounding. She was confused at the cold reception she was receiving from the Prince. Weren't they meant to work together in the favor of the goddesses? "I received the power of the goddess due to no action of my own. This seems to fulfill prophecy, so why should the others not be true as well?"

"I can give you plenty of reasons," Prince Lincoln muttered, casting a disgusted look down at Zelda before sweeping back down the hallway.

"Your highness, please," Zelda called, a twinge of anger settling in her stomach, "Forgive me if I have caused offense."

Lincoln gave no notice that he had heard her, taking the stairs two steps at a time. Zelda growled in annoyance and tried to draw up strength from the stone beneath her to catch up to the Prince, but the stones seemed to ripple beneath her instead, and Zelda's soft boots caught on the floor. Gasping in surprise, she tripped on the shifting stone and barely caught herself on the stairs, her hands thrown out in front of her.

She heard a grunt from up ahead, and she looked up to see Prince Lincoln also stumble on the stairs, falling down onto one knee. "Goddesses. That was petty."

"I-I didn't..." Zelda scrambled to her feet and raced up the stairs as the Prince started off again.

They strode through the castle in silence for a time, Zelda's mind still whirling. Why was he so set on thinking of the worst of her? It was almost like he was looking for reasons to dislike her.

"I'm going to have tea with my sister." The Prince's sharp voice cut into Zelda's thoughts. "You will remain in the hallway."

"Why?" Zelda challenged, still feeling belligerent.

"Because we need privacy." Link suddenly stopped in front of a door, and Zelda stumbled into him slightly. Instead of catching her, however, he stepped back and watched her fumble to catch her balance.

"But the King-" Zelda broke off as the door swung open to admit them, and a round face with sparkling violet eyes appeared in the doorway. Zelda felt a familiar zing of magic, and she gasped.

A forager mage! She realized, staring at the girl in the doorway.

"Link! You did come!" The young woman wearing a pale blue dress rushed forward and threw her arms around the neck of the Prince. Prince Lincoln's face flushed and he quickly pushed the girl away from him.

"Aryll, just let me in."

The young woman pulled back, suddenly noticing her brother wasn't alone. "Oh! You're Zelda!" She swept a deep curtsy, and Zelda bent quickly to grab her hands and pull her back to her feet.

"Please, don't," she begged. "I'm just a mage like you. There's no need for that."

"Like you?" the Princess giggled nervously. "I'm no mage, much less the Chosen One. Thank you for joining us, I'm so glad Link invited you." She squeezed Zelda's hands and guided her gently in her room.

"I didn't invite her," Link broke in, stepping into the room and shooting Zelda a glare. "In fact, I told her to leave."

Zelda ignored the Prince in favor of the burning of magic she was feeling in the room-and the raw, leathery feel of the Princess's hands. "Your highness, your hands are like paper! Have you been reading a lot?"

Princess Aryll looked curiously at Zelda. "Yes. What does that have to do with my hands?"

Zelda laughed softly and let Aryll's fingers slip out of her grip. "The same thing happens to me. It's a Forager Mage hazard, I suppose."

Aryll's jaw dropped as Zelda reached a hand toward the books on Aryll's shelf and quickly gathered the sensation of the dry, dusty pages into her skin, careful to avoid the energy she felt bursting from the girl beside her. Then she reached out and grasped Aryll's hands again, letting the Princess feel the dry, cracking skin on her hands. She heard the Prince hiss out a muffled curse behind her as Aryll gasped.

"We have to be careful not to soak in too much from what we engage with." Zelda smiled. "There's all sorts of energy around us, good and bad."

"But...I'm a Forager Mage?" Aryll murmured, still staring down at their hands. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Because magic is the goddess's way of compensating for a person's lack of other skills," the Prince burst out, and Zelda turned on him in surprise. "She's got to give you people something to make you worth anything."

"Link!" Aryll gasped, "That's a terrible thing to say!"

Prince Link scoffed, folding his arms across his chest.

"Your highness, none of us asked for this," Zelda said sharply, striding across the room toward the Prince. He glowered at her as she drew closer, but Zelda refused to be cowed. Her magic meant so much to her, especially now that she understood what she was to do. "You didn't ask to bear the sword that seals the darkness, I didn't ask to be a forager mage. Yet here we are, at the goddess's good graces. And we all must use the gifts we've been given."

Prince Lincoln's face grew pale before darkening into a fierce red. His eyes were still narrowed, and he raised a quivering hand to the sword at his shoulder.

"But we can't all serve destiny," he hissed, and he quickly unsheathed the blue sword with a quiet shing. Zelda heard a sharp intake of breath from Aryll behind her, as if Link had just committed some great crime. "You see, hero, I am banned from using my power, while you are encouraged to use it at every opportunity. The goddess has a funny way of creating destiny, doesn't she?"

Prince Link held the sword out in between them, and Zelda's eyes flicked down to the sword he waved in her face. The blade was a shining steel, almost blue, and Zelda caught sight of the emblem of the triforce at the base of the blade. Zelda felt a flash of familiarity as she stared up at the sword, but the Prince cast a furtive look over his shoulder and quickly sheathed the Master Sword once more before turning sharply on his heel and slamming Aryll's door behind him.

Zelda blinked once before moving to follow him, but she felt a hand grab onto her wrist.

"Don't. Y-you probably don't want to talk to him again," Aryll said from behind.

Zelda pursed her lips and turned to face the Princess. "I don't disagree, but it's my duty to protect him."

Aryll's lip quirked up. "I'd give him some space. You can report it to the King if you'd like, but Link will likely just send you away again."

Zelda sighed, the Prince's sharp words still ringing in her ears. "What was he talking about, banned from using his power? He has the sword, doesn't he?"

Aryll's face paled. "You mean you don't know? The King has forbidden the use of any sword here in the castle because of the Master Sword."

Zelda furrowed her brow. "But...why? The Master Sword is what will destroy the darkness, isn't it? Why wouldn't he let anyone use any sword?"

Aryll shrugged helplessly. "No one can say. The Master Sword has a complicated history, and my father might be paranoid of the dangers of using the Sword. It's become an ancient relic rather than the powerful weapon it was in the past."

"That's silly," Zelda scoffed. "We need both the Sword and its holder to be ready for the final battle, don't we? Won't not using it bring about the same consequences?"

Aryll cast a pained look down at her feet and tightly laced her hands in front of her. "I-I don't know. I can't speak for my father. I just read the stories of the past."

"Tell me about them," Zelda urged, stepping forward and clasping Aryll's hands tightly. The younger woman looked up in surprise. "Tell me about the legends of the Master Sword, and I'll teach you about Forager Magic."

Aryll pursed her lips, but determination gleamed in her eyes and she nodded fiercely. "Deal."

Link stumbled into the training grounds, his Sheikan wrappings tight around his arms and the Master Sword safely covered in leather. There were only a few other soldiers and Sheikah in the grounds in the afternoon because of the hot Hylian air and sunshine, and no one took notice of Sheik as he strode quickly toward an empty training station. Angrily, he yanked his sword out from its scabbard and slung his shield down onto his arm before charging at one of the straw bales. The Sword's tip dragged Link's arm down on his first lunge, and he quickly lost his balance and collapsed on his backside in front of the hay.

"Stupid sword," Link growled, tossing the Master Sword to one side and brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Stupid magic. Stupid Zelda."
The Master Sword thumped as it landed in the grass next to its master, and Link glared at the sword accusingly. All the bitterness, insecurity, and doubt he felt about his inability to use the Sword effectively as its protector had burst out as he'd watched his sister discover her goddess-given powers. His little sister, even. The excitement and awe he saw in her face made him feel a twinge of guilt at the harsh words he'd spoken to her before storming out, but the satisfied expression on Zelda's face made him feel slightly justified. Forager Zelda knew absolutely nothing of her new powers, and she thought it fair to lecture him about the use of his powers when he'd done so much to try to unlock them?

"I'll show her," Link grunted, clambering to his feet and picking up his sword. The Master Sword felt warm in his grip, the leather thongs he'd quickly wrapped around the hilt moist and pliable under his fingers.

"Sheik, hold a moment."

Link froze, quickly dropping his sword to his side to hide it from view. He spun and saw Master Mahko, the leader of the Sheikah moving easily through the training grounds toward him. Impa had assured him that the Sheikah were in full support of his disguised training as a Sheikah, but neither Link nor Sheik had addressed it directly with the master. Nervously, Link brought the fingers of his right hand close together and brushed his index finger down across his forehead and nose in the traditional Sheikhan salute. "Master."

"Sheik." Mahko smiled briefly, his eyes crinkling. "I haven't been able to supervise your swordsmanship, and I wanted to offer you some advice with your blade."

Link felt a thrill of worry. "My blade?"

Mahko nodded once. "I understand your training has been difficult for you. Perhaps I can be of assistance."

Link glanced around at the other warriors in the training ground. The station closest to them was occupied by an older Sheikah woman who was practicing her knife-throwing with a thick, wooden target. She gave Mahko a deferential nod and ignored Link, sending another knife spinning into the target. The next station was being used by a younger soldier in the garrison, and he was running through a spear drill that was familiar to Link. He hadn't acknowledged Sheik's arrival, and Link doubted he would be easily distracted.

"Of course, Master," Link decided. Mahko's smile widened as Link raised the disguised Master Sword between them.

Link caught his breath as the leader of the Sheikah moved his left foot back and settled into an attack stance. Then Mahko withdrew an eightfold blade from a scabbard at his belt, and Link felt a flash of excitement rush through him. Though he'd trained with several Sheikah, Impa in particular, he'd never seen one of the ancient, traditional eightfold swords outside of its sheath. There were rumored to be only a few Sheikah in the castle who owned one of the ancient swords, but Link was hardly surprised that the master of the Sheikah wielded one.

"Raise your blade, Sheik," Mahko said softly, and Link realized that he had dropped his sword to one side as Mahko had drawn his blade. Link quickly lifted his sword back into an offensive stance, the sword point low.

"You take an offensive stance," Mahko noted, lifting his blade slightly to mimic his opponent's.

Link bit back a retort. "Yes, master. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all. Merely a question of technique." Mahko shifted his stance slightly so that most of his weight was in his left foot, and both his hands gripped his sword at a low angle. "The style of the Sheikah is more offensive than defensive, which would be what Impa is teaching you. However, there are different swordsmanship techniques than those used by the Sheikah."

"What do you mean?"

"There was a time when all men could fight with a sword, Sheik. This lent itself to different techniques and ways of fighting." Mahko lunged with his sword held in a fashion that Link had never seen before. Quickly, he opened his stance and let the sword shoot past him. Link swallowed and shot a quick glance at Master Mahko. The Sheikah was smiling slyly, his sword held in a loose grip in his right hand with the point extending past Link's shoulder.

"That's...intriguing, Master." Link swallowed. "I didn't realize there was more than one way."

"We must glean information and skills from all different sources, Sheik. All have something to contribute." The Sheikah looked steadily at Sheik, his red eyes gleaming. Link felt a flash of the guilt he'd felt earlier resurface, and Aryll's hurt expression filled his mind.

Angrily, Link slashed forward, turning his wrist to keep the top side of his blade consistently facing his enemy as Impa had drilled into him, but the Master Sword tugged down at the hilt, forcing his slash askew. His balance teetered, but Link managed to regain his footing as Master Mahko caught his blade on the crosspiece of his own.

"I had understood your blade was rather difficult to master," Mahko said, his eyes twinkling at his play on words. Link repressed an eye-roll. "Is that what just happened?"

"Yes, master."

"Well." Master Mahko slipped his sword back, the two blades ringing as the metals grated up against each other. "I have known that sword to have a mind of its own. I wouldn't be surprised if it's trying to help."

"Help?" Link snorted, drawing back a step. "It's a sword. I am its master."

"Not for this sword, surely." Mahko shot forward with an horizontal slice, and Link's muscle memory leapt to sway back and catch the oncoming sword with his own and deflect it to the side. Thankfully, the Master Sword usually didn't resist him when it came to defense. "It does have a history of being rather involved in the proceedings."

"Does it?" Link gritted his teeth and shot forward with a quick lunge. Mahko caught the tip of Link's sword and spun it up overhead, surprising Link entirely. He stumbled forward as his arm was raised involuntarily over his head.

"Yes," Mahko said shortly, shoving Link's sword down and placing a foot over it, effectively disarming the Prince. Link felt a surge of frustration. "Perhaps you should listen to it."

"Listen?" Link repeated, his gaze locked on his sword at his feet. "Master, it's just metal with a long history of fighting evil."

"Have you ever considered why it was always successful?" Link looked up at the Sheikah, his face eerily close to Link's. His eyes seemed to glow a deep crimson, Link resisted the urge to look away.

"Highness, these are dangerous times we're entering." Mahko said softly. "The Prophecy of the Malice is being fulfilled, and there are many sources of aid accessible-but only if you're willing to listen."

Link swallowed as Master Mahko released his grip on Link's sword and took a step back.

"Forgive me for such a short practice session. I must return to the King. Your swordsmanship is coming along nicely, Sheik." And with that, the Sheikah swept his cloak about him and strode softly back into the castle.

Link tried to battle down the feelings of frustration he felt at being so easily bested by Master Mahko, reminding himself that the Master of the Sheikah was bound to be better than someone with a rebellious sword with an attitude problem. Especially with a different sword technique. Shrugging mentally, he took a deep breath, tightened the scarf covering around his mouth, and raised his sword once more.

Listen, huh? Link thought, staring down at the sword in his hand. The blade itself was well-tempered, with an even blue sheen across the whole sword. The triforced emblem that was stamped into the blade just above the cross piece was carefully covered with a thin leather thong, and the winged tips of the indigo cross guard were similarly concealed. Link felt a thrill of energy as he eyed his blade, almost like a warmth beneath his fingers. Curious, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on that feeling of warmth. Tuning out the clanging, noisy environment of the training ground was tricky, but Link tried to tune in to the weapon gripped in his hand. Then, a faint string of notes sounded in his mind, and he felt a thrill of excitement. Was this what Mahko was referring to?

Then Link heard the twang of an extra note and a muffled curse, and his eyes shot open in alarm. A young musician sat not too far away on the balustrade, plucking slowly at a lute. Link's excitement was immediately doused, and he glared back down at his sword.

"Stupid legends," he grunted. Then he squared his shoulders and turned back to his hay bale, raising his sword as he continued with his practice.

Hi friends! Sorry it's been a bit. I've kept writing and just not posting...but I'll try to be better about that.

I've had a surprisingly muted response from this story, so I'd really love hearing your thoughts, predictions, etc. I'm really excited for where this is going!

Cheers!

~Maylyn