Welcome to the unrequited lovers-to-enemies balcony date and the requited enemies-to-lovers bathroom rendezvous and the I'm-your-goddamn-queen basement luncheon.

Finally, I updated on time. I updated on time because I needed to take time off work due to a very lengthy headache. Please enjoy one of my favourite chapters of Part I :D


The Light Invasion

PART I - DESERT THE ARMY

Link of Ordon: Is your duty to your kingdom, or the parasite in your shadows?


Chapter 8 - Liar Liar Britches on Fire


This high upon the castle, the clacking weapons, battle cries, and scuffles were a mere undercurrent to the chink of teacups against saucers. On the balcony just outside the throne room, everything was visible. The courtyard and the town. So many tiny little people. Tiny little pawns. Up here, it was easy to feel like a god.

Fabian set his cup down with a sigh. "You must think ill of me." Link didn't. Not one bit. So why did the prince feel the need to say it? "It felt cruel, did it not? Hearing my order to separate you from your loved ones for a sudden war against a nameless enemy."

His words were pin-sharp. They pricked at feelings Link had forgotten. When he had been called from the list of draftees, he had resented it, but he hadn't resented Fabian. Well, he did resent the situation, and that was partially caused by the monarchy, and Fabian was the acting monarch, so yeah, maybe Link did think ill of Fabian at some point, but not anymore.

"I understand why you had to do it, your highness," Link said. "The shadowbeasts almost killed me, and then they terrorised my home. They stripped the final light spirit, Ordona, of their glow, and cast everything under a mantle of shadow. I fought hard to restore it."

Fabian bowed his head. "That saddens me greatly. A few days ago, for several hours, Hyrule was cast in total darkness. Not a single ember glowed. It was a frightening time indeed." Link never knew about that, and yet it made sense. Ordona was the last light in Hyrule. They had said it themselves. "You have already done a great act of service for Hyrule," Fabian said. "Because of your swift action, our suffering was brief."

There was nothing brief about several hours in total darkness, but then again, it could've been days or weeks or years. Perhaps forever. But it wasn't, because when Link was called upon to fix it, he did. Fabian was right. Link had done a great service for Hyrule, and he was itching to do more.

"No. Our suffering was lessened," Fabian amended. "We still suffer. Shadowbeasts, you call them? They stalk our soldiers and slay our people. This perpetual darkness they wrought chokes our land."

"So, they're the ones who took the light spirits?"

"I wasn't aware that was the cause for the eternal night. Tell me, what did Ordona tell you after you heroically banished the twilight?"

Link sipped his lukewarm tea to stall. To ponder those vague words. "They said that some false master corrupted the other spirits with this dark power they had been guarding," he said. "Lured them into a place called the twilight realm."

"And who do you suppose this false master might be?"

Fabian was, quite literally, on the edge of his seat, but Link didn't have an answer. He couldn't disappoint the prince of Hyrule with a blunt "I don't know." He needed to kick that question under the bed with some different intel about the enemy. Fabian already that knew they could hide in shadows and threaten the guardian spirits. Wait. Link did have an answer!

"After the shadowbeasts captured me, they took me to their leader. He wore this triangle-like helmet with bulging eyes and a curled tongue."

The prince caressed his chin with a hum. "I have heard of this man in reports. We don't know if he's a king, a general, or a dictator. Not even his name. Regardless, all signs pin him as the leader of the shadowbeasts. Would you say he's capable of corrupting the light spirits?"

"Absolutely!" Link exclaimed. Oh no. That wasn't very polite of him. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, your highness."

Fabian smiled. "It's quite alright. Do go on."

"Thank-you." He straightened his spine like a taut rope. "Ordona repelled my captors, but their leader was fine, and then he stole the spirit's light like that." Link snapped his fingers for emphasis. Tea jumped from Fabian's cup. He had startled the prince. Great going, Link.

Fabian set down his saucer and whipped out a handkerchief. "I see how urgently he must be dealt with." He dabbed the spots on his burgundy britches. "As he is powerful in ways we don't quite understand, it would be unwise to confront him, but perhaps we could do something about his army…" He pressed a finger to his thoughtful frown. "Did Ordona mention how to get to this twilight realm?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," Link said. For someone who wanted the other light spirits rescued from the twilight realm, Ordona was horrendously vague about where Link would find them. "Said we'd find a portal in some ancient desert stronghold."

Fabian beamed. "That may be all we need to go on. My wife's trusted advisor, Lord Auru Hietala, told us of a cursed mirror at our betrothal banquet. We were musing on what the worst wedding gift would be. This mirror had supposedly cast criminals into the dark world." Hell? Of course people and creatures as twisted as the shadowbeasts would come from there. With the stolen light of Hyrule, they could turn it into a hollow paradise.

"I'll set out tomorrow," Link said.

Fabian choked on his tea. "Link of Ordon, I admire your eagerness, but you are one man. You cannot march into enemy territory all alone. It would take one sentry to rid Hyrule of its much-needed hero.

"I am certain that the twilight realm is diverting many, many resources into guarding the light spirits, and they would be using the stolen blessings to bolster their own forces. Not to mention that we know nothing about their land."

"It could be something like the shroud over Ordon," Link reasoned.

Fabian shook his head. "This would be far beyond a shroud. The very fabric of their world could operate by entirely different laws of logic. Think of it this way: Hyrule and our neighbours are one expansive landmass. What if the twilight realm was entirely clumps of earth suspended in the sky? Our best military tactics would be ravaged by the shadowbeasts."

So Link, who had liberated Ordon all on his own, who had been selected by the goddesses because of his extraordinary potential, wasn't trusted to undertake his own quest? Of course not. Every point Fabian made was as solid as a goat to the gut.

Link hadn't meant to wear a frown, but he must have, because Fabian's features softened. "I am certain that the light spirits cannot be recovered without your help, otherwise Ordona would not have trusted you with tunic and truth. Link of Ordon, you have done well to deliver this message, and you will have your moment of glory."

Link didn't want glory. Well, he did, but he wasn't supposed to want it so openly. But glory was an inevitable side-effect of saving an entire kingdom, so why should Link shut out some well-deserved praise?

"What would you like me to do, your highness?" he asked.

Fabian flashed his pearly whites. "Good man. For now, you may train with the rest of the army, although you will be allowed to roam throughout the stations. Learn or polish whatever skills you may need. Please continue to wear your tunic. It will boost morale. Something we are sorely lacking at present."

Link nodded, chewing his tongue. "Is it alright if I ask you something?"

"But of course."

Link swirled the tea leaves in the bottom of his cup. "What will you be doing in the meantime?"

"Tomorrow, General Alexus and I will begin shortlisting candidates for the scout team," Fabian said. "Once they return with their thorough report, we can mobilize our troops and reclaim our realms light with you at the helm."

Seemed like a good plan. A great one. Queen Zelda had found herself a master of a man. The perfect prince to protect Hyrule when she was too poorly to do it herself.


Utter garbage.

That was what Link had spent a half-hour tea party prattling on about. Garbage. He hadn't just wasted Midna's time. He had chewed it up, spat it out, and wiped his backside with it. Now he was plodding after some nameless soldier to his quarters, confidently believing a dozen conspiracies about the Twili. Apparently people like her were called 'shadowbeasts', as if the difference between mindless beast and actual person didn't matter. And these so called 'shadowbeasts' coveted and stole a light that scorched their flesh, shrivelled their crops, and forced them to live as ghosts in their own world.

This should all be solved once Midna told Link the truth, but would he be smart enough to believe her? He was clearly dumb enough to believe the Totally-Down-For-Genocide Fabian Harkinian, but Midna had facts and truth and experience on her side.

Would Link take her word for it?

Oh gods. She could be too late! Fabian was perfectly quaffed, plucked, and powdered. Midna was a hideous little imp. His vocal cadence was as refined as a stage poet. Her tone was a dinky little tea bell. He took such vile lies and wrapped them in pretty little packaging. She took the crappy, unfiltered truth and shoved it down Link's throat like a stomach-churning medicine.

Maybe in a contest between Fabian and Midna, he was the more pleasant-sounding one, but truth would stomp all. It had to. It would. As soon as Link was alone in the soldiers' quarters, she was going to lay it all down for him, and he was going to believe her. Why? Because the goddesses of this world chose him as their hero, and a hero would do the right thing. He would side with the cursed imp fighting fang and claw to restore her world and all who lived within it. Not the tyrannic warlord seeking to demonise, colonise, and eradicate her people.

She just needed Link alone, and soon she would. Those soldiers still trained in the courtyard, meaning that the dorm would be empty.

The door creaked open to rows upon rows of bunkbeds occupied by sleeping forms. Apparently whatever existed in the city, the courtyard, and the ballroom were only half of the soldiers they had here. It was a stupid-efficient way to house double the soldiers in half the space during war. Half of them trained and carried out their duties while the rest dozed. At the end of each circum (or 'day' as the light-dwellers called it), they'd swap, which meant that Link would always be around people, and Midna would never get to talk to him.

There was one small advantage to all the tea Link drank though, and Midna was out of options. Once he had unloaded all his gear, he asked around for the bathroom, and the soldiers pointed to some door tucked away in the corner of the room. Link opened it to a cramped, candlelit lavatory. He wrinkled his nose. Thank sols she couldn't smell as a shadow.

She rose behind him, but he didn't notice. He was fixated on the wooden lids atop a raised platform of brick. Gingerly, he opened the first, where the horseshoe-shaped seat peaked at the flow of water a few metres below.

Then Link started doing something absurd. He lifted the seat and felt around the contaminated rim! He gripped the inner edges and yanked and heaved and puffed his cheeks and groaned. Did he think he could tear out the frame like a bucket?

Oh wait. That Ordie-place didn't have toilets. They would've just pissed in a bucket and thrown it over their vegetable patches or something.

It would only be right to say something. "So, I guess you aren't acquainted with indoor plumbing."

He jolted and clutched his crotch. Wimp. "Do you always watch me take a piss?" he asked indignantly.

"This is just as unpleasant for me as it is for you." Midna crossed her arms. "We haven't spoken since that night at the inn, and we have a lot to talk about."

Link was hopping from one foot to the other. "Can it be after this?"

Midna hummed and tapped her chin. "Nope, but I'll turn around. That's the most dignity I can offer in these desperate times."

"Gee, thanks," he deadpanned.

Midna faced the grey brick wall. Soon after came the trickle of water. Then a few seconds later came the first plop. Midna took a breath for the long speech ahead. "So-"

"How far does this thing go down?" Link whispered.

"About three metres."

"You can tell?!"

"Obviously. I have night vision."

Link was dead silent. Midna tried again. "Fabian is-"

"Where does it go?"

"I don't have time to explain indoor plumbing to you!"

His shadow hoisted his waistband up. "Well, you have about twenty seconds to say your piece." He reached for the soap and bucket to wash his hands. Oh no. No time! She snapped her fingers. The handwashing supplies shattered into her void. Link whirled around. "Do you want me to die of horrific hygiene?!"

"Says the person who felt around the bloody toilet!" Midna pinched her nose with a sigh. "I tell you what. If you hear me out and you find a better place for us to talk from now on, I won't have to catch you during potty breaks. I'll even explain how toilets work! Deal?" She almost extended her hand. Stupid idea when she was a shadow. Gross idea when his hands were covered in piss and traces of faeces, even if it wouldn't actually contaminate her.

"And you'll let me wash my hands?" he asked.

"And I'll make you scrub your hands until they're raw."

"Then it's a deal."

"Great." Midna snapped her fingers and the basin and soap appeared. "Get to it. After that, you might want a seat." She snapped the toilet closed for him.

His back was to her as he scrubbed his hands. Great. She wouldn't have to see his stupid glares for a good half-minute if he was thorough.

"So it seems like there's a lot you don't know about this whole war we're going through," Midna began, "and anything you do know is straight-up wrong."

He scoffed. An arrogant scoff that made her wilt a little. Thank sols he didn't see it. "First of all, I'm a Twili, not a shadowbeast. The people who captured you are also Twili, not shadowbeasts. Shadowbeasts are Zant's mindless minions."

"Who's Zant?" Link shook the water from his hands.

"I'm getting to that. He's the guy with the helmet. The one who took away that spirit's light."

He wiped his hands on his tunic and sat on the shut toilet lid. "Is he a shadowbeast?"

"No! What part of 'mindless monster' don't you understand?"

Link didn't say anything. His lips were a very thin line. Midna knew that look. She knew what kind of words they held back. Those words would only be revealed behind closed doors. Locked doors. If there wasn't half a sleeping army outside this room, would Link yell at her, too? Call it a waste of time to distinguish Twili from their cursed counterparts?

He licked his lips and exhaled. "I'm sorry. I'll call your people Twili from now on." It wasn't totally genuine, but it was a start. A promising start, but she needed more from him. She needed him to betray the prince he was so smitten with.

"Second, the Twili aren't responsible for this eternal night." He quirked a brow. "Fabian is."

And then the laughter began. Link muffled his mouth as his body shook and slanted and folded. He was in danger of falling off the damn toilet seat because what she had said was apparently hysterical! There nothing she could do but glower and shush him, and that made it worse.

He peeled his hands away, but there was a grin as wide as a wingspan stuck on his face. "But why would he doom his own realm to no sun?" he chortled. "No ruler would weaken their kingdom on purpose."

"Because it makes the Twili weaker!" Midna caught her volume and pulled it back into a whisper. "Haven't you wondered why I've been in this shadow form ever since you banished the twilight? Why your captors recoiled when that spirit showed up? We can't take physical form in the light."

"That Zant guy coped just fine."

"Yeah, but he's different."

"Different how?"

Midna threw her arms in the air. "I don't know!" Too loud again. "He just is for some reason."

"Riiiiight…" Link said with the roll of his eyes. "The holy light of the spirits 'harms' you somehow. Bet it sucks to have a few less shadows to hide in."

"Excuse me?" This stupid light dweller refused to let her stay hushed. "I would love to be physical right now, and so would every other Twili, but we can't, okay?"

Link raised his palms in surrender. "Whatever you say, mistress." Urgh. So patronising.

"I'll be the first to say that Zant is evil," Midna said. "He is a toxic, vile leader with no concept of honour, but he's in your realm, attacking your troops, because you struck first."

"But I didn't start this war."

That was not what Midna meant and he knew it! "No, but Fabian did. He must have sent the light spirits into the twilight realm so that his army could march upon it. So that you could march upon it. Otherwise all those soldiers would turn into useless spirits."

Link pinched his nose with a sigh. "Weren't you listening? The prince wants to use the army to retrieve the light spirits. No one wants to fight your people."

"They're barely capable of defending themselves," Midna hissed.

"Oh really? They were very capable of it back in Ordon, or are you going to pretend that I wasn't captured and imprisoned in my own basement?"

Midna's mouth was a canon: open to fire with a lit wick, but no iron ball to tear through his argument. All that came out was an indignant puff of air. She knew the Twili to be a gentle people. She knew them to be far more open and expressive than these regressive light dwellers with their obsessive militarism and boxes for sorting people. But Link's image of the Twili was Zant. Someone uncommonly cruel. Someone who had warped her into a snappy, snarky, shrimp of a woman, so she couldn't exactly be a better example.

But Midna had rescued Link from that basement, helped him liberate his village, sacrificed physical form for Ordona's restoration, kept watch as Link slept, and gave him plenty of guidance that he ignored. She was a positive example of Twili, and the one who had been around him the most, but that didn't matter. He was hurt by an ugly few, and now he was willing to join the war against her people when his destiny was to stop it.

"Okay, fine. You want the light spirits? You don't need an army to get them back." Midna planted her hands on her hips and leaned close. "Waiting for Fabian-"

"Prince Fabian," Link sneered.

"-to mobilise his troops and chart the twilight realm will take weeks. Possibly months. And then there's the time it takes to retrieve the spirits. When you finally get home, your precious little family will be skin and bone. I bet that pregnant person's baby will be-"

"Stop!" Link pinched his nose. Hair curtained his scrunched eyes. "Just stop…"

In the silence, Midna waited. He was so still, but the candle flames flickered in response to an understated rage. She wasn't going to be intimidated. She was going to cross her arms and stick her nose in the air until she got her answer. Did the truth sting him, or did she maybe, possibly, take things too far?

Finally, he spoke. His tone was flat. As flat as his earlier apology. "I will not be blamed for your people's crimes." But she wasn't blaming him. "I won't be manipulated into betraying the prince." So stating facts was manipulative now?

"Really?" Midna spat. "As my people waste away in the shadows of their own world, you're defending the 'handsome, well-mannered' war criminal who forced them in there? How valiant of you, Mr Important Hero!"

"What proof do you even have?" he snarled in a hush.

"If you actually did as I told you, we'd be halfway to proof by now!" She flung a hand vaguely south-east. The way to the desert. "You'll see just how much my people are suffering under your stupid light spirits. We want them gone even more than you do."

"Then why don't you want the army to help?"

How many times did she have to repeat this? How many times would he fail to understand? "Because your beloved prince charming wants this. He caused this!"

With a deep sigh, Link stood and dusted himself down. "This is going nowhere." And whose fault was that? "I'm going to bed."

"What?" This conversation was not over. It wouldn't be over until Link saw her point so strongly that he snuck off to the stable, busted out his horse, and out-galloped the army across the fields. "You can't go until I say you can go."

Wolfie didn't listen. Against her orders, he stepped towards the door. She threw herself in front of the knob. "Don't you dare."

For a moment, he paused. His reaching hand hovered a hair from her chest, and he was looking at her with wide eyes. Fearful eyes. As if he was some poor, defenceless light-dweller and she was a hulking, snarling shadowbeast.

What if he really was too far gone?

"If it makes you feel better, I'll get on a scout team," he mumbled. Then he plunged through her like the meaningless, powerless ghost she was, fell through the door, and slammed it behind him.

Midna missed the way her eyes would sting in her physical form. She missed the rapid heartbeat and the shuddering breath. Her flesh gave sense and structure to her emotions, but in the shadows, they were just that. Emotions. Anger and frustration and panic in their rawest essence. They were only thoughts, because that was all she could feel anymore. Thoughts. Thoughts about a 'hero' who called her manipulative, who gave her enemy a slur for her people, who fell for such dangerous and disgusting lies, who despised her beyond no beneficial doubt.

Hatred of Midna wasn't anything new. There was just something about her that Zant hated. Something that Midna couldn't remove, and whatever it was, Link hated it too. He hated her and that hatred would bring a slow and painful apocalypse upon her people, her culture, her everything.

That bucket looked so throwable right now. So too did the soap and the toilet brush and the toilet seat if she ripped it off with her magic. She could smash it all and drop it into those disgusting sewers so the soldiers could smell as rotten as their prince's lies… but they'd scour the palace for her, splatter every shadow with that barbaric potion, until they had her burning head.

Even though Link had 'kindly' brought her into this city to ease his filthy conscience, she was trapped. She wanted to go to the fields to wail and scream and zap a few monsters, but she couldn't because she would be seen. This city was her prison. Sols, she needed air. She couldn't breathe it or feel it, but she needed to be one with it. She needed to get out and be somewhere open, but she wasn't in a state to stealth by hundreds of soldiers. Where could she go?

Sewers. Dingy, smelly sewers.

With a shudder, Midna flicked up the toilet seat and dove through the bowl to the rancid, murky river. There was so little light that not even she knew where to go, aside from the vague flow of water. Should she follow it or go the other way?

A voice echoed from above. "Urgh. Greenie left the seat up." A clack of wood later, something dribbled from above Midna. Through Midna. Something yellow. She stuffed the will to screech and flew after the flow as fast as she could. She wanted to scrub her flesh, but she had no flesh to scrub. Even though she couldn't smell the piss, or feel its warm stickiness, it still stained her. It stained her like a nasty insult that stuck for days. What would Zant say if he saw her now? He'd smirk. What about her people? They'd laugh. "Serves her right for letting that tyrant rule."

Midna collided with a wall. Was it brick? Was it coated in grime? She couldn't tell. Not in this ghostly existence. All she knew was that whatever was in front of her couldn't be passed through. Touch was a memory. Smell was a memory. Taste was a memory. If she was slick with filth or gagging at the stench or spitting out the muck upon her tongue, she might actually be justified in her revulsion, but she wasn't.

She needed air.

The flowing stream of Hylian excretions fed her towards the next channel and the next. A few more walls 'greeted' her in the rudest way. Don't think about the muck she had 'touched' as she followed along to the next corner. Torchlight appeared ahead (finally), and she raced faster, only to lurch to a stop. Because of a yawn.

There were guards in the sewers. Spotlighted by their lanterns with a hand resting on the pouches on their belts. Urgh. Like any self-respecting Twili would sneak their way through this crap. Sinking into shadows meant trailing through the murky water and along the slick and slimy walls, (and she didn't have the luxury of shuddering) but it allowed her to bypass the weary guards without fuss.

Eventually, she came to a spiralling staircase with yet more stationed guards, but by riding up the shaded underside of the stairs, they hadn't a clue she was there. At the top, it was only a matter of slipping through a frosted window rusted open. In a place as rancid as this, they likely never closed it. Anything to air out the stench.

Taller turrets caged her in. A maze of scaffolding and blue-tiled roofs. This wasn't open enough. This was ridiculous. No matter which balcony she took in the Palace of Twilight, she could see the stretch of the sky and land. Not here. This was a mish-mash of silly protrusions like a birthcircum treat with more candles than cake. Where was the air? The coveted royal view?

The throne room balcony. Where Link and Fabian had their tea.

She zoomed for the tallest turret. Who cares if any soldiers were watching the skies? They'd only see the stars blink for a second. The need for air was too urgent.

Balanced atop the central turret, right above the throne room, the view was more expansive than Link and Fabian knew. Starry skies surrounded her, but they were so dark. To think that the light realm experienced such darkness on the circum. If only it glowed like fire. If only the smoky clouds whisked overhead. If only Midna was looking upon her home from her rightful balcony.

Instead, she only saw its final blow sprawled out before her. In the courtyards, soldiers swiped and stabbed and nocked and shot. Battle cries. Roared orders. Clacking weapons. The chorus of a brewing invasion. All to slaughter innocent people. Her people.

Midna clenched her fist. She clenched her fist even though it didn't bring the catharsis of claws biting her palm. Spirits or no spirits, these light-dwellers were thriving on adrenaline and hatred while the Twili wasted away in the shadows. Yes, those practice weapons would simply pass through shadows, but dip them in that potion and her people were done for.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to cry so much. The goddesses of this world had made a lousy choice of hero, or perhaps they hated the Twili, too. They didn't care how the light spirits returned. Only that they did. Whether it was an ethical hero or a merciless army who fetched them wouldn't make a difference.

No. Don't think like that. Don't give up on your subjects. The moment you give up on them, they're doomed. The moment you give up on them, the nasty things they say about you become all the truer.

This wasn't the last Link had heard from Midna. It was only the beginning. She just needed to be more focused, because nit-picking his incompetence wasn't helping in the slightest.

No more little fetch quests. No more bossing Link away from his own idiocy. From now on, there was only one thing Midna was going to get out of Link. Treason against the Hyrulean monarchy. She wouldn't settle for anything less.


It was another meal of Zelda pretending everything was fine. Pretending that she wasn't a prisoner in her own basement. Pretending that she was poorly and ill because of some plague. Pretending that the man who sat beside her, who had vowed to always love and care for her, wasn't the reason why she was bound to her bed.

On the twelfth stir of her poisoned soup, Fabian sighed. "Must I feed my wife like she is a toddler?" Oh, quit the taunting and shame. He was the one who sullied the soup in her lap. Made it burn her tongue and throat, sap her strength, and eat away her energy.

But he didn't know that she knew, and so far this soup wasn't killing her. It wasn't meant to kill her yet -that much was obvious- so despite every protest her body made, she shovelled one, two, three- The third spoonful slipped from her mouth, back into the bowl. It was too much. Now that she knew what that bitter taste was, she couldn't untaste it. She couldn't tell her body –a body that was bred and trained to keep her alive– to do something so against her self-preservation.

But if she didn't eat, she would starve. Her stomach twisted in knots over this. Something needed to change. Zelda wasn't strong enough to leave this room, and she wasn't fit of mind to outwit Fabian. If only she could see someone she trusted. Someone who knew her well enough to pick up any hints she dropped. Auru would be the best choice, but how could she manoeuvre Fabian into letting them meet?

"You said that you've had this plague before," she began carefully, "but now you're immune?"

"Yes, that is correct," Fabian said, "and I had to suffer through the same rancid taste." But wasn't that one of the 'rarer' symptoms? He had never mentioned that little struggle of his before, and it was quite clear that it wasn't a real symptom at all. Just a cover to explain the poison's taste. Should she…? No. It wasn't the right time to challenge him on this detail lest he catch on.

"Lord Auru had the white plague a few decades ago," Zelda said. "Thanks to his immunity, we often ask him to aid early outbreaks. I think it would be perfectly safe for him to visit."

Fabian was silent. Scrutinising. One of the advantages of Zelda's royal upbringing was her perfect ability to project a kindly smile no matter what strife she wrestled within. And they said poise and grace was a frivolous pursuit. Finding no lie upon her face, Fabian responded. "I was not aware that this was one of his regular duties."

"It's natural that you wouldn't. His last calling was years before we met."

"And you never mentioned that before now?" Fabian asked.

Zelda chuckled and tapped her temple. "My mind is too fuzzy to remember most things. I know you understand, dear husband."

Again, too long passed before he answered. "I shall consider it."

"And I am certain you won't disappoint your queen, dear prince." The subtle reminder of her higher standing against his was a bitter blow to deliver, but a necessary one nonetheless. "You've always been so loyal, darling. That is why I trust you so."

The wheels were turning in his head. Surely she had won this game of wits. Trust was something Fabian needed from her to serve his nefarious agenda, whatever it may be. Trust was something he needed to tend like a delicate flower. If it wilted, then he would be forced to do something drastic, and that would draw suspicion.

"Very well," he said curtly. "I shall arrange for Lord Auru to visit you tomorrow, but I too will be present." Zelda had expected as much. "Forgive me, but seeing you so frail has me worried. I fear what even the most reputable official may do when they see such exploitable vulnerability."

"I understand," Zelda said, "but as delightful as your company is, I do miss my oldest teacher."

He shuffled forward on his stool and took her hand. "Anything for you, my queen." He bowed to kiss it. Zelda's skin tingled beneath the silk. Yet again, she felt that yearning. The yearning for that tender touch upon her bare skin. It was a forbidden wish, and yet she wished it anyway.

Now that she knew that this man –this kind, tender, handsome man– was poisoning her, she shouldn't be wishing for it at all. She should be revolted by his soft touch, his honeyed voice, and his sultry eyes. She shouldn't be entertaining the notion that maybe, just maybe, she was wrong to suspect him of such heinous acts.

But even if she was wrong, it wouldn't hurt to see Auru, it wouldn't hurt to hint at her hunch, and it wouldn't hurt to get a hold of an antidote to see if it healed her more than that awful soup she was forced to inflict upon herself three times a day.

Zelda took another mouthful. It was still horrid, still bitter, still a battle to swallow, but at least it was possible, and it was possible because she had a plan. For now, eating the soup was part of that plan.

May Nayru's wisdom guide her from sickness to health.


Okay I'm really curious to know two things:

1. What are your thoughts on Fabian?

2. How do you feel about Link and Midna's disagreements and dynamic?

If you answer both of those questions (and have an account) then not only will I be so very thankful, but I will rec you a song from my playlist for this fic (but I won't give context because spoilers...)

I know we're still not at the Twilight Realm yet (give it five more chapters) but I'm really really hoping that all this drama has you hooked. It's all essential to the plot and character development. I just hope it's entertaining, too.