A/N: Yes yes YES Zelda honey you finally get a chapter to yourself! How do you feel?
Zelda:
Zelda: "No comment."
You heard it here first, folks! Small self-harm warning too, by the way.
The Light Invasion
PART II - LIFT THE LIGHT
Region by region, dungeon by dungeon, trial by trial, Link and Midna build a fragile trust.
Chapter 19 - Off With the Gloves
"You are looking well, my dear."
Zelda almost flinched at Fabian's words. Perhaps if she had any other upbringing, she would have, but negotiations with snide nobles and seedy foreign ministers had made her composure as tough as the leather of her palms. She smiled weakly and peppered her response with a few croaks. "How so?"
"There is more colour in your complexion," Fabian said with a coy smirk. "My, how I've missed the dusty pink of your cheeks."
Her cheeks tingled. What kind of queen was she to blush around her poisoner like some giddy teenager? A poor one, but that changed today.
"You flatter me, my dear," she said, "but unfortunately fatigue still ails me. A sore throat and churning stomach too."
"Well, consider me proud to see yet another empty bowl on your bedside."
Zelda 'feebly' nudged it towards her husband. "You may take it now, if you like."
"Later, my queen." He took her hand and drew it in for a soft peck. Her skin tingled and her heart fluttered, but her stomach churned. "I have cleared my schedule for this afternoon," he whispered against her knuckles, "all for you."
What? Today of all days?
Zelda grunted softly in 'pain' as she cradled her temple. "I… apologise my dear. This headache has come at such a rude time."
His grip on her hand relaxed, as if he was relieved that she was still ill and poorly, still bound to her bed without the bother of padlocks and chains. "Very well, my dear. I shall allow you to rest." With a final peck on her hand, he lay it beside her, took her bowl, and opened the door. There was a guard beside it, straight-backed and rigid. Since when was he there? That certainly complicated things.
"I shall see you with your supper, my darling," Fabian said. With that, he left, and the door clicked shut behind him.
His footsteps faded. Good. Now was the time to escape this prison, if only for a short while. She had one method to slip outside unnoticed; one that happened to leave a trace.
Zelda pulled the scrapbook Fabian had given her from under her bed. Which of these flowers should she sacrifice for the sake of her mission? Well, she never was fond of birds of paradise. Might be worth it to start there. But to do that, she needed to remove her gloves.
She pinched the hem of the silk around her bicep and pulled, exposing the muscles, callouses, and blisters of a warrior; one who she had always hoped would never be needed, but tonight, they embarked on their first mission.
Zelda dug a short nail under the dried flower and peeled it from the page, leaving it stained, but blank. She tore the paper into two narrow strips. From under her pillow, she reached for the glass vial, and shattered it against the floor. Pinching the smooth sides of a chunk the size of a crouton, she dug the tip into her finger. It was a battle to prick skin so thick, and an awful sting too –Zelda bit her tongue to hold back a yelp of pain– but soon, the blood beaded.
She stroked the first paper strip with the ancient Sheikah characters for a warp spell, then the second. One to leave and one to bring her back. Once that was done, she sucked on her finger until it stopped bleeding. One careless drop or stain would send Fabian into a frenzy, and the 'protections' surrounding her would be doubled or tripled or more. She would not let this chance to peak beyond the curtain of her prison slip away.
With that, she tossed back her covers and climbed out of bed. Zelda had braved a few standing-up attempts before, but each still made her uneasy on her feet and foggy in her head. It was no different here, but it cleared after a few seconds. There would be no rough or tumble battles in her current condition, but that was far from her goal, anyway.
Zelda pinched the strip between her lips and signed the hand motions to ground her thoughts and intentions. The signs were somewhat sluggish, but passable. Good enough for the runes to glow and the magic to tickle her hair and billow her nightgown until poof!
The beige smokes cleared, and she was right where she needed to be: just around the stone brick corner from her guard's sights.
The fortunate thing about midday was that the guards' quarters were mostly deserted. Only torchlight lit the walls as she crept barefoot along the stone brick halls.
Around this corner and that, she reached a short staircase that led to a plain brick wall. Such oddities were not too unusual in the castle. Most chalked this quirk up to centuries of renovations. Sometimes the 'new castle' and 'old castle' weren't a neat fit for each other. It was a convenient cover story.
Zelda counted three bricks from the floor, then five from the left. She lay her palm against the brick and waited. The back of her hand tingled, the Triforce of Wisdom pulsed, and the stone brick ground back. Or so it sounded, for when Zelda drew her hand away, it was still there.
She stood up again, brushed out the wrinkles in her gown, and reached a hand towards the 'solid' brick wall.
"You cannot always count on your senses, little one. Whatever you use to perceive can be deceived."
How very true those words had proven to be. All Zelda could count on was her own scepticism. Today, she would find out the reality that Fabian cloaked from her.
Her hand passed through the brick, as did her arm, shoulder, and head. Beyond the wall, the stairs descended deeper, lit only by torches of luminous stone affixed to the wall. Zelda pulled on one of these torches and the exit puzzled itself solid behind her.
The stone steps were as smooth as silk. To the regular wanderer, their steps would clap and echo. But Zelda? She knew how to step with no more noise than the beat of a butterfly's wings.
"Remember, you must be invisible. Nothing more than a shadow. A whispered legend. Silence every sound. Cloak yourself in smoke and shadow. Become no more noticeable than a fly on the wall."
Further and further, the staircase spiralled into the swampy castle underbelly, until Zelda met another 'wall' that required the Triforce to open. The pulse of golden light shined against mossy walls and moat water. How frightened five-year-old Zelda was when her mother first took her down here. She had been afraid that the walls would cave and flood the hall with crocodile-infested waters.
In present day, she passed through the wall into a round room. Wide in space but cramped in dark colours and light. On the wall beside her, knives and daggers and bows and chains hung from hooks. Her fingers glided along the kunai. She thought she had forgotten their touch, but her training scars tingled in recognition.
Zelda plucked a few from the wall and faced some sawdust mannequins that hadn't been dealt a new blow in months. Zelda hurled the first kunai. It lodged in the shoulder. Mother's voice cut sharper.
"Do it again!" she barked. "Do it again and again and again until you never, ever miss. If you want to hit the eyes, then you must hit the eyes. If you want to stop the heart, then you must stop the heart. Anything less than precision, and you're dead."
Zelda hurled the second kunai. It caught the left 'eye' but not the spot that would stop the brain on impact.
"Do it again! Visualise, aim, and be precise, but act with haste. Keep the battle concise."
She traced the path of her arm three times before throwing her final kunai. It spun, spun, spun and nailed the forehead. The mannequin wheeled back and hit the wall. Sawdust plumed.
"Good. Now do it without that slog of a warm-up."
Not today, mother. Your daughter is ill, and she is a little out of practice, and she will remain in the shadows, because as you told her years ago:
"You are Sheik, bodyguard of the royal bloodline. You may be called to don this persona today or tomorrow or perhaps never at all, but danger does not care if you are ready. Danger will not wait for you to polish your skills. If danger replaces me as your mentor, then so be it."
So be it.
So be it if the gloves had to come off. So be it if Zelda had to shirk her nightgown, braid her hair back, and slip into the skin of another. A navy and powder blue bodysuit; gauze around her head, nose, mouth, and fingers; leather armour strapped to her shoulders and thighs, and a fraying white bib of the Sheikah eye over her chest. She draped the white scarf around her neck and hung the kunai from her thighs.
The final touch came in two spells. One to shift their eyes to red, their skin to olive, and their hair to pale blonde. The second was a strip of cloth painted with crushed time-shift stones. It would shift Sheik back to the exact state Zelda was in mere minutes ago, nightgown and gloves and all. As long as they had it on their person, it would only take intention and the drop of a hand to shift back and forth.
"Dearest daughter, my greatest hope for you is that you will never have to wear this disguise outside this training room. I pray for your safety and peace every single day."
Zelda's heart ached, but Sheik carefully placed it in a box. It was time to safeguard the royal family line. It was time to gather intel for the queen. It was time to discover just what her dear husband had been hiding from her.
Sheik paced to another wall, 'pressed' another brick, and passed through another 'solid' barrier. Murky sewer waters moistened their thin soles, and they wrinkled their nose beneath the scarf. Thank goodness the spell to change back into Zelda would rid her of the smell. Torchlight glistened off wet, gravelly walls and water flowing westward between two raised platforms in the arched hallway. Sheik followed it, stepping with caution despite no one being down here. It was just for the sake of habit, for being in the right rhythm once they surfaced where people roamed.
There was a four-way intersection ahead, and a spring of eagerness twitched at their gait. Only three more corners and a towering flight of stairs and they'd finally see sunlight again.
A yawn. A yawn stopped Sheik in their tracks. By the goddesses, who was down here, in the sewers, yawning, without the accompanying sound of scrubbing or... actually, Sheik wasn't that well-informed on what sewage work entailed, but that didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was who was around that corner and why. Sheik couldn't peak, but they could listen.
A bored grunt. The scratch of nails on stubble. The jingle of chainmail and the creak of leather boots. There was a soldier stationed down here, but why? Whatever for? The reason wasn't important at present. Not as important as getting past him.
The murky waters sloshed by. Sheik grimaced. At least any illness gained from swimming in the sewage wouldn't be suspect. Still…
Sheik paced back, seated themselves on the sidewalk, and carefully lowered their legs into the water. Chilly. Grimy. Soft lumps bumping their calves. Utterly rancid, and utterly necessary to confront. Sheik pushed off the sidewalk and plunged in with no more splash than a grain of rice. With pursed lips and scrunched eyes, Sheik breast-stroked as deep as they could. The current pushed them further along, and when their lungs began to sting, they kicked upwards and rose from the surface with minimal slosh.
They held back the urge to gasp for air, instead drawing shallow breaths through their nostrils. (The stink almost made them cough.) Behind them, the guard was out of view, and his yawns were nothing more than a distant echo.
At every intersection, there was a guard or two, and every time, Sheik dipped below the surface to bypass them. If these sewers were as well-lit as a summer day, then they would've been caught and detained after the first corner, but under the cover of shadows, they needed only to be noiseless. How strange to have guards down here and yet overlook the murky water. Surely if Sheik could sneak past them, then someone else could be using the very same method?
Third intersection. Sheik broke the surface too early. From several feet behind, a guard yelled. "Begone, shadowbeast scum!" Something smashed against the footpath beside them. Everything flashed white. Sheik dipped under the water and kicked, kicked, kicked. There was no clang of pursuit to be heard over the water's gurgle. Sheik opened their eyes a squint. Something glowed against the grimy bottom. A thick, iridescent line passed by. They flipped around. No soldier's silhouette loomed. Sheik broke the surface, dragged themselves onto the sidewalk, and fought the urge to spit and sputter and catch their breath.
"Begone, shadowbeast scum!" the guard had said. Shadowbeast… shadowbeast… What on Farore's green earth was a shadowbeast? And was that the flash of a deku nut that followed? The purpose of that was always to stun an enemy long enough to rush in or slip from sight, but it had been hurled as if it was a finisher.
Could it possibly have something to do with Zelda's prophetic twilight dreams? The only way to know for sure was to catch a glimpse of that sky, to be comforted by beautiful blue or confronted by blazing fire.
Fortunately, the spiral staircase was around the next corner, and flames barely outlined three soldiers standing guard on the way up.
Bypassing them was a simple matter of hanging onto the edge of the stairs and sidling along each time Sheik approached the radius of torchlight. It was torture on their out-of-practice muscles, and Zelda would most certainly feel that in the morning, but it would be worth it, so very worth it when they glimpsed the sun's warmth all over again.
At the top of the tower, there was a stained-glass window, and it was glowing, but no rainbow beams filtered through it. Strange. Zelda and Fabian just had lunch together. Was it cloudy outside?
There was a guard posted on each side of the door, so the only way out without detection was the stained-glass window. Sheik climbed along the pillars and scaffolds supporting the walls. When they reached the windowsill, they perched on it. The hinges were rusty, but a spell sketched into the dust nullified all noise. They cracked it open.
In the sliver between the windows was the night sky. But it was supposed to be noon! That was what Fabian had implied when he brought her lunch a mere half hour ago, and breakfast about four hours before that.
Of course, being shut in a basement with no way to time-keep meant that Zelda (and Sheik) only knew what time it was based on Fabian's words and actions alone. It would be too easy to convince Zelda that it was daytime at night and vice versa, but why? What about the day needed to be hidden from a sick and poorly woman in the basement?
Sheik crept out of the window, but something snagged their periphery. The luminescent glow of the window frame. It was a bright, iridescent, painted line that cut harshly through their shadow. Was this some odd new aesthetic choice, or perhaps –if Sheik dared make such a leap of logic– an enchanted defence against these 'shadowbeasts'?
The grasses of Hyrule Field were motley yellow, and the gardens on the castle's northern side were devoid of floral shades. Perhaps that was because of autumn's approach, but the great wilt was not due for another month at least. It was as if the flora of this kingdom had been without the nourishment of sunlight for weeks.
Precisely how long had Zelda been trapped in that awful basement? Fabian had much to explain, and there was not a single virtuous thing Sheik could do to weasel those words out of him. A knife to the throat of anyone was vile enough, but her own husband? Zelda couldn't, and if Zelda couldn't, then neither could Sheik.
But perhaps one question that Sheik could find the answer for was this: if Hyrule was not in peacetime as Fabian had assured Zelda over and over, then what business was he conducting day-to-day, or night-to-night?
Somewhere in this castle, Fabian was scheming. Against her? Against the shadowbeasts? Plotting a coup, or planning a war? There was no telling where he would go for the former, and Sheik hadn't the time nor energy to comb the whole estate for him while remaining undetected, but for matters of war, there was an obvious place. Obvious, and well-protected.
The way to the war room without detection involved slinking through corridor rafters and hiding behind suits of armour. In the south of the castle, the bellowing of orders and clacking of wood permeated the silence like smoke from a distant fire. Sheik peaked outside one of the windows; hundreds –no– thousands of men were training for war. Far more than the modest-yet-effective royal guard. Had Fabian –he who praised Zelda's compassion and care for her subjects– really drafted them behind her back, as if they were a mere resource that he was entitled to take and use as he pleased? Oh, the nerve.
Security had been tighter and tighter with each corridor towards the war room, but when they slipped through the window into the final one, it was deserted. Odd, but it meant one thing: whatever was going on in that war room was of the utmost secrecy. As queen, Zelda had every right to know those secrets. If loyalty to the crown would not motivate anyone to present them, then it was Sheik's duty to gather them.
Carefully, Sheik lowered themselves to the cool marble floor and crossed the plush blue carpet. Beyond the banded doors, voices snipped back and forth. Only two. One as silky as caramel –Fabian– and one as gravelly and hot-tempered as Death Mountain – General Alexus. Zelda had always thought her too… brutal for such a high position of authority, but Fabian had worn Zelda down with the promise that he would reign Alexus in whenever she crossed Zelda's personal standards of ethics.
Sheik pressed their ear against the mahogany, straining to shape Fabian's muffled garbles into words.
The corridor to the right burst open. Sheik slipped behind the armour. Three soldiers came running in, or so it sounded by the jingle of their chainmail and patter of their boots. This was it. Sheik had been detected. Just one peak behind the armour, and they would be seized and unmasked and the contagious queen would become the scandal who had risked a kingdom-wide pandemic.
A hand reached for the brass knob and pounded three times. Of course, alert the prince and general first, why don't you? Let them know that they need to be hush-hush before the spy hears yet another inaudible whisper!
"WHO DARE'S INTERRUPT–"
"The matters of war," a tired, male voice cut in. "Yes, yes, we know, and before you threaten to put our heads on pikes, know that we are following the orders of yourself and Prince Fabian."
"State your names!" Alexus roared.
"Lieutenant Reed Larkson," said the first voice.
"Lieutenant Jay Larkson," said a second just like it.
"Ashei," said a raspy, feminine voice. No announcing her title? Strange. It was as if she was ashamed of it.
A long pause followed, unbroken until the lock on the door jittered and someone inside the war room pushed the doors open. How lucky that they covered Sheik's Very Obvious Hiding Spot, because otherwise they would stick out like a deku hornet sting as the soldiers filed into the room. Whatever conversation was about to happen, Sheik needed to hear it through more than a thick door.
"Just as a magician uses misdirection and sleight-of-hand to produce a rupee behind one's ear, you can use sleight-of-body to disappear and reappear wherever you need to be."
It was risky, time-sensitive, and Sheik was out of practice, but judging by Alexus's aggression, it was rare that she or Fabian allowed others into the war room.
When someone tried to close the door beside Sheik, they took the brass handle and held it firm. Alexus grunted as she kept tugging, and she was a strong woman. This was a poor idea. Sheik would lose, stumble into her vision, and–
"Please don't brute force it," Fabian said. "The carpenters have been drafted like everyone else."
With a low growl, Alexus trudged into the hall. Sheik pulled themselves on top of the door and stepped onto the other one. Thank gods for their heaviness, because if they swayed beneath them, they'd be sprawled on the floor and trapped under Alexus's boot. This next part was the trickiest. As Alexus pushed the right door closed from behind the armour, Sheik dropped into the shadows of the left, flattened themselves against the floor, and slid on their stomach under the floor-length sheet over the table.
"Your highness," Ashei said, "I thought I heard something."
"Then be a dear, smash a nut, and let us move on," said Fabian.
A crack and a flash outlined every pair of legs that crowded the far end of the table, including Alexus as she strode to meet them, but just as soon, it was dark again.
"So now that we have wasted a nut proving that our security is impenetrable…" Alexus slammed her hands on the table, "Why are you all back so soon? And without that little boy in green, too." Little boy in green? Like the Hero of Time? Oh, there better not be any child soldiers in this war!
"General, please," Fabian said. "Allow me to do the talking." Alexus grunted, and her armour shifted as if to salute. "I am sure you have your reasons for arriving back so soon," he said, "and I am certain you have something of high importance to report, so by all means, explain."
"Well…" one of the Larksons stammered.
"You ought to know that the first week of our mission went off without a hitch…" said the other.
"That bloody hero betrayed us!" Ashei spat. "Yeah, turns out he was in kahoots with one of those shadowbeasts. She had been a stowaway in his shadow all along. When we stopped to rest in the Arbiter's Grounds, he waited until it was his turn to watch. He looted the spinner we had found and then took off!"
"And you just let him leave?" Fabian asked.
"We tried to shoot him down," one of the Larksons said. "A non-fatal shot just to stall him, but his pet shadowbeast kept shooting them back at us. By the time we reached the mirror chamber with a workaround, it was deserted, and the sages refused to show and grant us passage."
"They refused to show for agents of the royal family?" Alexus balked. "That is an insult to everyone short of the golden goddesses!" Well, perhaps the sages were wise enough to sense that the actual monarch of Hyrule did not authorise any of this!
"General, please," Fabian said heavily. He sighed long and deep, and Sheik could picture Fabian pinching the bridge of his nose with both hands, always as if he was just barely keeping the weight of the world from crushing him. "This is grave news. I know not of what the chosen hero's intentions may be, nor if he is truly chosen at all, but the fact remains that our efforts to map the twilight realm have been thwarted, and our counterattack on the shadowbeasts has been indefinitely delayed."
"Which makes us even more vulnerable to those vile invaders," Alexus said.
"Precisely."
"We're sorry we let it happen," a Larkson said.
"Your highness, what are your orders?" Ashei asked.
Fabian sighed again. "Return to the mirror chamber and wait. Should any other shadowbeast come through, do not engage and send word immediately."
"And if that treacherous hero comes back?" Alexus asked.
"Bring him here. This incident will not go unanswered."
"With pleasure, your highness," a Larkson said bitterly.
"Thank-you, lieutenant," Fabian said. "Thank-you all. I trust that you will excel on this next mission with the utmost discretion." There was a strange undercurrent to that last sentence, said with clarity and grace, and yet with the unsuspecting sharpness of parchment. "General Alexus will escort you out." And that was the poison seal. Three failed soldiers handed off to their brutish general.
But nothing could be worse than whatever was about to befall that chosen hero. Learning of him should have been a comfort. There was a chosen hero to address whatever chaos was going on, but did he truly betray Hyrule by allying with these 'shadowbeasts', or did he sniff something fowl underneath the borrowed throne and act accordingly?
At this point, it was quite clear that no one was on Zelda's side, but what was truly murky was who was on her kingdom's side. It was all so very confusing, and there was so little Sheik could do without risking themselves further. No one on Zelda's side, no one on Zelda's side…
Except, possibly, for one.
Auru's study and quarters were, much like most high-ranking officials, tucked away in one of the towers. The north-eastern one to be exact. Same as General Alexus, only he was on the floor below. He had been at the palace, serving loyally for decades, and deserved a top suite. At least it made for a shorter climb through the rafters, but when Sheik dropped before his (thankfully unguarded) door, they swayed on their feet, head warm and foggy. Even with the antidote, this excursion would have them bed-bound for days.
Deep breath. Catch your breath. Slow your breath. It's just Auru. Auru who Sheik knew well; Auru who knew very little of Sheik. If he was as jumpy as everyone else during a war on shadow, he may act hasty when confronted by a warrior of the 'shadow folk' and alert the guards.
But if Sheik risked nothing, then Zelda's kingdom would slip further from her grasp.
Sheik clenched their fist, unclenched it, then knocked on the door. At first, there was silence. Was he not here? What a waste of a climb. But then… "Before I answer," Auru crooned, "it is necessary that you declare yourself in these trying times."
Two voices caught in Sheik's throat like fishbones. Auru wouldn't open for a stranger, but under no circumstances was anyone other than the chosen hero and Zelda's future children to know who was under the wrappings. It was the most valuable element of espionage that the royal family had.
"Well?" Auru asked, impatiently.
"It's me," Sheik said meekly.
There was a beat of silence. "Your majesty?" Auru's voice was airy in disbelief.
"Yes. May I speak with you?"
Not two seconds later, the lock jittered, the door flung open, and Auru's eyes bulged at the decidedly-not-Zelda figure before him. He reached for something by his door. The bell-for-the-maid-turned-bell-for-the-soldiers in times of war.
Sheik lunged, snatched the reaching wrist, smacked a hand over Auru's mouth, and slammed him against the brick wall. He thrashed under their hold, but Sheik shoved him in further and leaned close. "Listen, I mean you no harm," Sheik said hoarsely, just as Mother had trained them to. "The queen is still too ill to leave her sick bay, so she has sent me, her agent, instead." Auru stopped struggling, but his glare was as hot as Death Mountain.
"My name is Sheik," they continued. "If you know the legend of the Hero of Time, then you've heard of me."
At that, Auru relaxed, and Sheik released them with a generous step back. "I apologise for restraining you," they said.
Auru rubbed his back and chin. "I think it was the wisest course of action. War has me on edge like everyone else."
"That's why I'd like to speak with you in secret," said Sheik. "This war, the everlasting night… I have no knowledge of it."
His eyes narrowed. "How do you not know about these things yourself? They're as plain as, well, night."
Oh gods, yet another too-close-for-comfort parallel to Zelda. "I was only summoned to Hyrule recently, but that matters not. I wish for you to explain the nature of this night and this war, and I will report it directly to the queen."
"And how do you intend to make it past her security?" Auru asked.
Sheik paced away from him to face the opposite wall. "If I told you, then you could inform her guards, and they'd know exactly how to prevent the comings-and-goings of the queen's only spy. Unless…" they side-eyed him over their shoulder, "you're able to report this all to her personally?"
Auru sighed. "I wish I could, but the only time I was permitted to visit her was with the prince, and he explicitly forbade me from mentioning anything about the everlasting night or the war. Speaking with her was like a game of charades."
Sheik wandered around the room, if only to keep blood flowing through their woozy mind. "How so?"
"The thing is, and I pray to the goddesses every day that I am wrong, but I believe she was trying to communicate that… that her husband is poisoning her." Auru fell onto his bed, head in his hands. "She handed me a handkerchief with some of her soup on it. I knew it was her intention that I got it tested, but it felt awful to leave after that. She's still trapped down there and her only point of contact is her treacherous husband."
The Zelda within Sheik ached for this poor man. "So, what did you do next?"
"Took it to the doctor on the western throughfare and asked him to test for any and all traces of poison. He demanded a hefty bribe, but I had come prepared. A friend of mine owns a bar where he had racked up quite the bill, and we promised to forgive it if he did what we asked and kept things hush-hush. It took a few hours, but we eventually narrowed it down. I asked the doctor to mix up an urgent cure, but he refused. Said it was outside his expertise. According to the friend who referred me, it seems like there isn't much within his expertise."
Sheik hummed. "And then what?"
"I returned to my friend at the bar. She said she knew someone who could help, but may have been drafted. Thankfully, the goddesses had been smiling upon us, and we were able to summon him to Castle Town. I am unsure of what happened after that, or if the queen has received the antidote he promised to deliver."
"He has succeeded, if that will put your mind at rest." Auru's head sprung up, and Sheik nodded. "He has consistently delivered the antidote at every twelfth meal, and it helped the queen become well enough to summon me. She will be pleased with the efforts of both of you."
Auru sighed in relief. "Wonderful to hear."
"Indeed, but I must ask, who is this mysterious healer, and why was he not drafted?"
He rubbed his neck with a grimace. "That is a question he refuses to answer. If you wish to meet him and other trusted allies, Wednesday night at Telma's Bar is where we all mingle."
For chess night? Clever cover. "Thank-you. I'll be happy to drop by on the queen's behalf as soon as I am able," Sheik said, "but first, I should like to meet them with the fullest possible understanding of this war. The night. The draft. The shadowbeasts. The chosen hero. Everything."
Auru gestured at his desk chair. "Then make yourself comfortable, Sheik, and I will tell you all that I know."
As Sheik wove through the halls to their basement prison, the revelations spun through their dizzy mind like ballroom dancers. The night, gone for weeks. The land, dying and drying. The people, conscripted without Zelda's authority. And for what? A war on the shadows themselves.
The light spirits had either forsaken them or been taken away to the twilight realm. The invasion Fabian was planning was intended to retrieve them. The shadowbeasts, some twisted monsters and some living shadows, were attacking villages left defenceless by the draft.
And yet the shadowbeasts had no army. They were playing small, while Fabian was playing as large as he possibly could, but why?
The only piece that did not fit anywhere was Zelda's vision of the oppressive, eternal twilight. Auru had explained that the one who claimed to be the chosen hero had borne witness to such a phenomenon in the province of Ordon (where the barely new citizens of Hyrule had been drafted by a kingdom that hadn't yet earned their loyalty), but the visions had forewarned the dark cloud of twilight sweeping over Death Mountain's peak, the waterfall of Zora's Domain, and the turrets of Hyrule Castle. Why hadn't that come to pass? Why that prophecy instead of an eternal night?
Sheik had answers now. Some answers. And questions. More questions. And a mind that was too wobbly to puzzle them out. A hunger for clarity burned within, and yet they couldn't feed it. Not without summoning more brain fog and splitting their headache deeper.
All that happened to get them back to the room without detection was a product of their rigorous training. At every sound, hide. At every corner, peak. At the final corner to their room, poof. Back in the chamber. Back in the prison. Drop the disguise. Back in the gloves and the nightgown. Back in the windowless room. Back under the sheets, pressed firmly into her pillow.
Her eyes stung like the sun. Before tonight, Fabian poisoning her, trapping her, deceiving her, had been a mere theory. One with too much merit for comfort, but a theory none-the-less. In this tiny chamber with her narrow and foggy perspective and her prince's dashing smiles, there was no way to know for sure, but Auru had confirmed it. He confirmed it and the only reason why it didn't cut so deep until now was because Sheik was her shield, her bodyguard, her protector, and they were gone. Gone for however long it took for Zelda to recover her strength.
Her muscles ached, her head ached, but nothing ached like the heart in her chest, beating as hard as a Goron pounding a boulder. Beating her to sleep.
It was twilight in the garden, and the sunset fireflies floated about the roses and ferns. Zelda drank her tea: the perfect balance of citrus, honey, and heat. Beside her, Fabian breathed in the sweet evening air. "It pleases me to see you enjoying 'Hyrule Historia' so deeply."
Zelda's cheeks tingled as she gazed fondly upon the first-edition, handwritten volume resting on the table between them. "I appreciate its raw honesty. It is truly an honour to read the very same ink that my ancestors lay upon these pages so long ago." The original copy, holding a chapter for every ruler of the Harkinian line up to the Era of Time, had departed Hyrule when the crown prince who inherited it was passed over for the throne. He had left Hyrule and married a Labrynnian princess, hence how it came to be in the possession of Fabian's family two centuries later.
"Do you hope to have a life worth writing within these pages, my princess?" Fabian asked.
Zelda covered her bashful, burgeoning smile with a sip of tea. "I should hope that my story is nowhere near as thrilling as theirs."
"Whether you vanquish an evil usurper in your age or not, I am certain that any story you have will be worth telling."
She sighed, set her teacup in her lap, and pushed the book Fabian's way. "Alas, the tradition has been broken."
Her hand lingered on that table, but she only had eyes for her tea. What a spark to her blistered fingertips when Fabian pushed the book back. "But you could be the first in centuries to take it up again."
Zelda whipped towards him, the book, him, the book, and him, aglow in the twilight. "I cannot accept something so precious."
"But you must, dearest Zelda, along with my heart. Both already belong to you."
Creaking hinges lurched Zelda from her slumber. She was back in cold, suffocating reality, and pushing through the door was her treacherous prince. "My dearest Zelda." Fabian set the tray on her bedside and pressed a hand to her forehead. (She choke-held the urge to swat it away.) "You seem more ailed than usual."
Zelda grumbled incomprehensibly, even to herself.
The usual happened next. The usual propping herself up against her pillows with the help of her dishonest, dishonourable husband. The usual gulping down mouthfuls of that horrible, poisoned, lukewarm soup. The usual doting words.
"Do not despair, my beloved. I know you were spryer than ever yesterday, but recovery has its ebbs and flows."
One more stomach-churning detail was becoming as clear as Lake Hylia: Fabian's words were sweeter when Zelda was sickly. That was more bitter than the soup, even as it burned all the way down.
A/N: Oh dear. Poor, heartbroken Zelda. (Poor Link, too, by the sounds of it.) However will she dismantle her husband's treachery when everyone thinks she's got a deadly and highly contagious disease? And what will Link face upon his return to Hyrule?
