He was ignoring her.

He was ignoring her.

Like she was some sort of pariah. An embarrassing dalliance.

Lymira ground her teeth together, imagining she was crunching down on Dark's stupid, beautiful neck. She could almost taste the blood of victory and vengeance. The murderous glint in her eyes must have been noticed by the others in her conversational circle, as they drifted away with concerned looks.

As Labrynnan ambassador, she had a standing invitation to court. Today she'd bothered to accept it because she'd hoped to learn something useful from the courtiers' knowledge or idle gossip. No such luck. A third of them were too vapid and self-involved to ask more than superficial questions about her before returning to the rumour mill. The other two thirds were either absent doing something actually important or knew next to nothing about the topic she had in mind.

Piling on to her frustration, Dark was also present at court—a rare occasion that had some of its members twittering. As if the giggling comments and furtive looks in his direction weren't enough, the stupid idiot was ignoring her. If she wandered in his direction, he took off like his ass was on fire. If their eyes accidentally caught across the room, he quickly turned away.

Maybe for the best. Her gaze might turn him to stone.

Lymira sighed and unlocked her arms from their stiff position across her chest. As she paced the hall, she stole another glance at Dark. He wore fancier clothes for court today; he wore them well, though she preferred the well-worn and comfortable clothes he'd worn at the Blue Moon in Kakariko.

That had been three days ago. Three days since their kiss in the alley. The one he clearly regretted.

Lymira sighed. It wasn't like her to pine. His reaction was irksome, but she had better things to do.

"Mira!"

She turned to see Silas striding towards her, surprisingly spiffy in a blue coat and dark grey pants, ready for court.

Lymira grinned. "Fancy seeing you again. And I do mean fancy," she added, nodding at his new clothes.

Silas scrubbed at a hand over the back of his neck. "Link lent them to me. I feel a bit like a trained goat stuffed into a corset." He rolled his massive shoulders. "Everything's a bit tight."

Lymira laughed out loud at the visual. "You look far from a goat," she assured him.

Silas chuckled. "I was hoping to run into you today. Dark and I would love to grab another drink sometime."

She had her doubts about whether Dark would agree. She threw a glare at him across the room. "We'll have to see," she replied.

Dark, seeing the expression she directed at him, blinked and turned back to his conversation with Lady Elena.

"What happened there?" Silas asked, tracing her line of sight.

Lymira huffed. "Where shall I start?..."

After a brief—and filled with enough colourful language to make Silas's brows kiss his hairline—recollection of the events last night in the alley, Lymira propped her hands on her hips and looked at Silas expectantly.

"Well?"

Instead of agreeing with her that Dark was the most irritating creature walking the world, or dismissing her ramblings completely, Silas chuckled.

"Why are you laughing?" she demanded, her confusion souring to affront.

"You actually kissed him?" Silas said, a quicksilver grin flashing across his face. "And he didn't…react?"

Lymira frowned. "How is he supposed to react? Did you expect him to attack me?"

Silas rolled his lips in to press back another laugh. It didn't work. While he amused himself over the secret joke, Lymira crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

"What is so funny?"

"Ahh…" Silas paused to wipe imaginary tears from his eyes. "Sorry, I was surprised. It's just…been a while."

"What do you mean?"

Silas glanced around the hall, seeing that Dark was nowhere in sight. "He has plenty," he told her. "It's just as long as I've known him, he hasn't had any relationships, and lately he's been avoiding them altogether."

Seeing her confusion, Silas sighed. "I really shouldn't tell you more…I'm sorry. If you ask him about, he may just tell you."

She wanted to grip that that was as likely as a goron learning to float, but she bit her tongue.

"Perhaps I will," she agreed. She shrugged. "Anyways, it doesn't matter. He made his feelings clear."

Silas gave her a sympathetic look. "Well, there's always the midwinter ball to look forward to," he said, deftly changing the subject.

She let him, pushing aside thoughts of Dark. "Will you be wearing more of these fancy duds?" she teased, rubbing the material of his collar between two fingers. "I think they kind of suit you."

Silas's expression told her he strongly disagreed. "Yes. Hopefully something that fits a bit better."

"Hmm, I wonder what I should wear?" She tapped a finger to her chin. "Is there a dress code for these things?"

"You're asking the wrong guy." He grinned. "Though you don't strike me as the traditional type."

Lymira swept her eyes over the room. The assembled ladies and gents of the court, for the most part, were dressed nicely in tailored pants and shirts or dresses. Lymira had nothing against dresses—they allowed for full range of movement, not to mention easier hiding of weapons. But if she chose to wear something other than trousers, it tended to be skirts.

"I suppose you, on the other hand, are extremely traditional," she guessed.

Silas shrugged, flashing that charmingly boyish grin again. The kind that had set alight a thousand intestinal butterflies.

"I suppose so," he said. "My father was a fairly traditional man. But my mother was stubborn and tough as a goat, as he always said. She worked the farm side by side with him. Growing up I always expected to do the same things he did—work the farm, get married, have children."

"That's a sweet story," Lym said, smiling despite herself. "They must be proud of you."

"I like to think so. They died when I was 15, along with my younger sister. Plague," Silas added at her questioning look.

Lymira's mouth tightened. She understood. There was a veil of grief over Silas's eyes, muted from age, but the gaping wound it masked would never truly close.

"I lost my family, too," she admitted, lashing herself for the sudden knot in her throat, the stinging behind her eyelids. She searched for another change of subject. "How did you meet Dark, then? It's hard to imagine him working on a farm."

She entertained the mental image of Dark and Silas, tilling the field side by side, muscles straining, sweat-glistened and sun-kissed.

"Though it's a nice thought," she said slyly, winking.

Silas chuckled and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "He'd been traveling for a while, and he sort of…stumbled onto the farm," he explained. "He was injured so I took him in. Haven't been able to get rid of him since."

Lym chuckled. He eyed her consideringly, a slow smile spreading across his mouth.

"Have you ever tried bombchu bowling?" he asked, lifting one brow.

"Can't say I have."

Silas grinned. "I've been wanting to try it, and Dark has some things to take care of this afternoon. I think we should give it a try and see if we don't become good enough to kick his ass when he comes back."

She laughed through her nose. "Is he a good bombchu bowler, then?"

"Oh, he claims to be the best," Silas replied. "For now."

Lymira smirked. "I like your plan." She extended her arm for him to take. "Sir Silas."

He laughed, looping their arms together. "Lady Mira…"

~oOo~

Dark did his best to concentrate on what Elena was telling him about Bronto's theory of evolution of magical species of fauna, but it wavered. For one, she was looking at him again.

No, glaring. Like she was trying to pierce him through with those exotic eyes.

Mission succeeded, he thought. He'd managed the last few days to avoid her at the castle, keeping himself busy training with Lillian and her soldiers, spending time with Link whenever he could and showing Silas around Castle Town. Today, Lymira had shown up at court and there'd been no clever way to avoid seeing her.

Not that he really wanted to avoid looking. He'd lost count of the amount of times he'd chastised himself for staring.

It didn't help that he couldn't forget the look in her eyes. The feel of her warm, soft lips on his. Unconsciously, he brushed his thumb over his mouth.

No matter what his head told him, that pursuing her was so far beyond a dumb idea it circled back around, his other, stupider body parts reacted. And his moronic heart ba-bumped in his chest whenever he let his eyes stray back to her.

Now, watching her laugh and smile with Silas, a juxtaposition of emotions assaulted him. One half was pleased for his friend, and the other was absurdly jealous. And he hadn't felt that in a very long time.

His spying was interrupted by a commotion out in the hall. Apologizing to Elena, he strode quickly out of the hall and found a pair of guards arguing with a grim-faced Lieutenant Kearns, still travel-rumpled and damp from snow.

"Lieutenant!" he called out. "Happy to see you've made it back."

Dark slowed his pace when Kearns turned to him with a stricken expression. He quickly masked it, returning his all-business composure.

"Thank you," he nodded at Dark. "But if you'll excuse me, I need to see the king immediately."

"As I said before, sir," the first guard said sternly. "His Majesty isn't having any visitors now."

"This is important!" Kearns growled. "What could possibly—"

Dark cut in, leaning close so he wouldn't be overheard, to explain to Kearns why the king was refusing visitors. It was no secret the king had been injured, as news traveled fast at court, but it was best not to spread panic by detailing how severe those injuries were.

Kearns' face paled. "Then I need to speak with her highness and Captain Link as soon as possible."

With no objections, the guards turned and escorted the lieutenant down the hall. Kearns barely glanced at Dark. Kearns unease when Dark had leaned in close surprised him. The lieutenant had been friendly last week on the journey back to Hyrule. What had changed his opinion of Dark?

~oOo~

Link stood at the balcony's edge, hands still clenched on the stone railing. He hadn't been able to move for what felt like hours. Barely even saw the vista in front of him.

The news Lieutenant Kearns had brought him, had sworn was true, spun inside his brain over and over, searching for refute. Link didn't want to believe it. He couldn't believe it.

Mere minutes ago, he'd watched Dark leave Hyrule Castle and walk down the road towards Castle Town, alone. Even from this distance, Link had recognized him, seen him nodding to the castle guards as he passed through the gates.

Dark must have somewhere in Castle Town to visit; if he'd been headed home to Link's house, he would have warped.

Doubts skittered across Link's mind as he wondered where his brother could be going. Clenching his teeth, he squashed them like ants the moment they appeared. He would not doubt his brother. Not without proof.

"Link?"

Zelda's voice drifted out onto the balcony. He turned, knowing his distress was written on his face when she frowned.

"What's happened?"

Link sighed and gestured to the room inside. Once they were both back inside, he closed the balcony doors firmly.

"Lieutenant Kearns and the others returned this afternoon," he started. She nodded, waiting for him to continue. "Kearns reported no more stalfos sightings and that the return home was uneventful, save for one thing."

When he hesitated, Zelda laid a hand on his arm. "What happened?" she asked again, gazing up at him, silently lending her support.

Link forced the words out. "They came across another village that had been attacked. But this one…there were no survivors. Kearns was…he could hardly speak. He said there were bodies lying in the streets. Men, women…children." Link shook his head. "They'd been ripped apart. Slaughtered and left there."

Zelda moved her grip to his hand, intertwining their fingers. The vision of Kearns' stricken expression, the fear in his eyes, stabbed at Link. The lieutenant's description of the scene had been blunt and to the point; they couldn't compare to Link's imaginings. They were torn straight from the worst of his nightmares during the shadowy years of Ganondorf's reign.

"Kearns and the others took care of the burials," Link continued, finding his voice again. "I asked him if he suspected a wolfos attack or something similar…and he told me he and the others all saw the culprit standing in the middle of the road, staring at them, covered in the villagers' blood. Kearns said he vanished the moment they drew their weapons."

Zelda's eyes widened. "One man did all that?"

"Kearns said…" Link swallowed, his throat clicking dryly. "He said it was Dark. That the apparition looked just like him."

Her jaw loosened in surprise. "Dark!?" she lowered her voice. "How is that possible?"

"It can't be," Link insisted. "It can't be possible."

"Link," she said softly. "I don't doubt Kearns saw what he claims he saw, but there may be another explanation." Her brow furrowed. "Some of Dark's…past," she added carefully, "is unknown, perhaps even to him. There could be dark magic that resides in him still."

Link dropped her hands, wanting to immediately reject the notion that Dark might have committed the slaughter unknowingly, or under the influence of evil magic. But he couldn't altogether discount it, either.

"I'll send Impa to the village," Zelda offered. Seeing his distress, she lifted a hand to place it on his cheek. "She knows more about this than I do. She may find something."

"What about Dark?"

Zelda opened her mouth, then hesitated. "He's your brother," she finally said. "I'll leave it to you whether to tell him or not for now. Once Impa returns, we can talk more."

Link sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "All these things happening now…they scare me, Zelda," he admitted. "I should be able to rely on Dark. Now I'm not even sure I should trust him."

Zelda pressed her palms to his face, gently brushing aside his own hands. "I will do whatever I can to help Dark," she promised. "Impa will find something."

Link slid his arms around her back, pulling her into a close embrace. He nestled his chin on top of her head. "Do you think the goddesses are expressing their displeasure with me?" he asked. "Since we're to be married?"

Zelda snorted softly. "Don't listen to court gossip," she advised. "I don't. The goddesses know I chose the right man to be my husband." Leaning back, she smiled up at him. "It's too late to back out now," she teased, rising on her tiptoes to nuzzle her nose against his.

Link chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of backing out."

She pressed a kiss to his mouth. "Good. You should go and get some sleep. Come back early tomorrow."

Link shook his head. "I won't leave you unguarded."

"Link," she said gently. "I have plenty of guards. You can't stay awake constantly. Let someone else take over for a few hours."

He squeezed her fingers. "I'll return soon," he promised.

"You always do." She smiled again, smoothing his hair back from his face.

After saying his farewells, Link stepped back outside, closing the doors behind him. The sun was rapidly sinking in the west, bathing the plains of Hyrule in a fiery glow. With a few practiced breaths and the familiar electricity of magic, he disappeared from the balcony and reappeared just outside his house.

Nestled in the hills behind Kakariko's distinctive windmill, the house was a simple, two-storey whitewashed home. More than big enough for Link. Inside, it was clear that Dark and Silas hadn't yet returned, so Link took off his boots, lit the fire and made himself a quick dinner.

Link had never had many possessions, so the space was spare and tidy. On the mantle were some of the only keepsakes he had—pictographs he'd taken in the years following his fight against Ganondorf and the return to the past.

As soon as he'd been able, he'd sought out Dark, hoping that his brother remembered their adventures together in the other time as he did. Though Dark wasn't a Sage, he did, and they'd spent a few years reliving the childhood that had been stolen from them both. Link, upon discovering the powers of a pictobox, had carried it with him everywhere, irritating Dark his nonstop requests for pictographs in order to preserve the memory. To keep their time with him.

Nonetheless, Dark was smiling in most of the pictographs on Link's shelf—images of them fishing, sparring, exploring Hyrule's diverse countryside and more. Looking at the younger versions of himself and his brother, Link again rebelled at the idea of Dark being responsible for the massacre. It didn't make sense. There had to be something else.

Eventually, Link retired to his bedroom, reading on the bed until he heard the door open and Dark and Silas return. Silas's heavy footfalls retreated to the spare bedroom, but Dark's came up the stairs. Link rolled to his side and feigned sleep while Dark poked his head in to check on him. When his footsteps descended again, Link leaned up to blow out the candle at his bedside.

Watching the wisps of smoke curl in the semi-darkness, Link wondered what to tell Dark about this latest attack. Word would spread. There would be funerary rites performed at the Temple of Time in honour of the villagers, as there was no one left to hold it for them.

He couldn't tell Dark yet. Not until he knew more. The lie made Link's stomach sour, but it was necessary.

Link stayed awake long into the night, unable to rest. When he finally did, his mind was tormented with the imagined screams of the dead and, above it all, mad, taunting laughter, terrifyingly familiar.