Zelda stared out at the familiar waters from aboard the King of Red Lions, her father's prize ship of the fleet. She'd just sailed over these waves on The Epona, but everything had been different.
She'd been a prisoner of the pirates.
Now, Link was somewhere below deck, tied up, beaten and bloody. Was he afraid? He'd once said he didn't fear death, but now that it was approaching, was he feeling his heart race at the thought of gallows?
Despite the mild air, she was bent over from a chill that had viciously run from spine to toes as it sought out any warmth left in her body. Cool sea spray soaked her face from over the rail, freezing her straight to the bone with every callous gust of wind. Her eyes darted off to the side, to the bow of the ship where the lion figurehead bobbed proudly, parting the seas with its fearsome stare.
Zelda envied it. Alone, that figurehead stood proudly. Wind and sea and spray didn't bother it. Rolling waves didn't make it nauseous. It was far braver than Zelda ever hoped to be.
Hands ran up and down her arms, comforting herself from the harsh bite of prickling goosebumps.
When she'd been on the beach, Zelda had covered her arms, hugging them close to herself as she watched a boot slam into the back of Link's kneecap, sending him hard into the sand.
The following thud hadn't even been a moment later, another soldier stepping forward to slam his fist against Link's jaw. All she could hear was the repetitive, sick sounds like thunder, a rumbling of thud after thud, a hum of hissed air escaping from Link, the sound of blood spit off his lips.
Breath and body shaking, Zelda had to fight to keep her feet planted when she heard the rattle of chains, the clink of the lock. The muffled struggle to keep a gag from his mouth.
The flicker of memory faded, and she was back on the deck of her father's ship. Her father's crew had washed the small stains of his dripping blood off the wooden planks from where he'd stumbled. Of course, the Hylians kept up the pristine façade that everything was fine. Just as Zelda was. On the outside, she was sure that her face betrayed very little, if anything at all of the conflicting emotions running through her. But inside?
It took Zelda several moments of stopping her sympathetic thoughts to remind herself that this was a pirate who'd kidnapped her. This was a man who deserved to face justice. Justice that her father, a hardened military man, politician and pirate hunter would bring swiftly, and with the appropriate level of force. And that meant that Link… that the pirate was rotting in the brig.
Where he belonged.
Running her hands along her face, she had to remind herself of that again and again.
These weren't her friends; they were lawless heathens she'd tolerated out of necessity. And when Link was brought back home, he'd face a trial and a hanging. Because that was what he deserved.
Goddess, Zelda was ready to pull out her hair. No matter how many times she repeated the words, all she could see was Mipha laughing in the mornings, Urbosa with Riju and Nabooru, Link smiling over cards, Revali making sure she was alright after an uncomfortable conversation. These were people to her now.
And she didn't want any of them to die.
Turning into the wind, she let her hair blow out of her face. It was relaxing to feel the cool breeze calming her skin, even with the chill it brought.
"Miss Nohansen."
Zelda spun at her name.
A sailor gestured off to the side.
"You're in our way, Miss. Would you mind stepping aside so you don't get hurt?"
A bizarre sense of disappointment rushed over her. She didn't even know why. But her body took over, moving from the path of several sailors as they hoisted the final dangling longboat over the rail and onto the deck.
Curiosity got the better of her, and wandering feet led her back into the path of several busy workers. She stumbled with the roll of a wave, her eagerness and lack of sea legs contributing to her calamity.
The ransom was so large, she could hardly visualize what it would even look like. Strange to believe it all fit in one little longboat, but here it was, covered by a tarp to keep it dry from the mist of the ocean's spray.
"Unload it," someone commanded, and Zelda waited to see the glistening of golden rupees stacked in neat piles.
"Zelda!" a man's voice boomed, "Come away from there. You'll be in their way."
She spun around, a jolt of surprise racing through her at just how unfamiliar her father's voice had become over the years. He looked older now than he did on the beach, as though a façade had dropped and this was his truer self. But there were still walls.
Zelda could see Aryll leading Paya towards the guest quarters, the sweeping skirts deceptively innocent. Pale blue. Her hair tied like a child's would be. And as Zelda watched her walk with a mature gait, one trained by years with Hylians, a backside that had been stung for slouching as hers had been, she felt oddly suspicious.
Her father was a cunning politician, that's for sure. The more Zelda looked at the young girl, she realized that her youth was manufactured. Younger than Zelda, but older than she looked, giving Aryll clothes to wear that made her seem younger, more like the Aryll that Link would remember, felt oddly underhanded. The poor girl. Dressed up and used like a puppet.
"Was Miss Woods compensated? For leaving her home for such a dangerous adventure? Her life was at risk." Zelda watched her father closely, trained in the subtleties of body movements from mingling at parties and auctions. He looked over her shoulder, and Zelda followed his gaze.
Sailors with their arms full of the boxed rupees were bringing them into the ship.
"No," Rhoam said as soon as she looked at the sailors. "No. We had no time."
Stepping back towards the sailors, she reached her hand towards one of the coin boxes. "I'll take care of it and talk with—"
She didn't see the glistening of golden rupees, nor the silver shine, but the dull steel of weapons.
Dropping the lid, her father's voice tuned out of her mind, and she checked the next. More guns.
Her father had planned to pay for his own daughter, right? He'd never risk her life on a gamble with a pirate he didn't know.
She spun again. Dizzy, confused, her eyes locked with her fathers across the ship. He met her gaze carefully, not looking away with any guilt to hide.
Setting her spine straight, Zelda squared off her shoulders, gathered her skirts, and hurried to meet him. But the second she stood in front of him, both cowed by his intimidating stature, and bursting with the unnatural desire to simply hug him, the words of bravado sinking away from her at his presence.
"You came prepared," she managed, though it was soft and weak.
"If you were not released, we were going to kill them all." He sighed heavily, wearily. "Now, I've sent your lady off with Miss Aryll to fix you up a bed."
Placing a crushing hand on her shoulder, Rhoam spun her to face the guest cabins Aryll and Paya had disappeared into. There was nothing comforting in his grip, nothing that set her at ease. It was the jolt of fear she felt every time she was touched, because like usual, she could feel the threat clear in the tight curl of his fingers.
"Well, the rupees came back ahead of us. You must have missed it in your exhaustion. Go wash that filth off yourself and see if you can get some rest."
As she was about to protest, his hands issued a warning squeeze. Curiosity was a vice and questioning an authority like Governor Rhoam was a crime against the Goddess who chose her servants to act in her stead.
Instead, his hand simply made her more aware of him, more alert at her state of dress, the sand in her hair and gritty grains under nails, the bags under her eyes, the sweat that had likely pooled in rather uncomfortable places to bring attention to. She could feel the frizz of her heat-stricken hair, the tenderness to sun-kissed skin. Goddess, what a mess she must have truly looked.
"Yes, Father," Zelda said, feeling the words spring naturally to her lips, despite the many years it had been since she'd last spoken to him.
Where had her fight gone? Was it so easily crushed by the hand of her father? A man she barely knew. Or was her time with the pirates truly over, and the normalcy of Hylian life was returning to her in small bursts of muscle memory and forgotten politeness?
His hand fell from her shoulder, satisfied.
Rhoam was known for his brutality, his Goddess's blessing in eradicating piracy at any cost. He was harsh in stories, but she remembered him more fondly. His response to her safety had her conflicted: was she wrong, and her father had always been stoic in a way a child's eyes can't perceive, or were the stories wrong, and he was soft when out of the sight of prying eyes?
"I'm…" Zelda tried, though she felt a bit like she had during the first party she'd hosted: on display, bare, exposed. His eyes were sharp on hers as he waited. So, Zelda did what she always did; she forced a polite smile on her face and bore the discomfort without slumping under its weight "I'm grateful that you came for me."
His eyes narrowed. "Of course I did. You're a Nohansen. A Nohansen will never bow to the whims of pirates."
Zelda nodded her ascent, though something about his words struck her wrong.
"Mmm. Now go. Clean yourself up and get some rest. We'll speak another time."
Her eyes darted again to the stairs, distantly imagining Link strung up in his chains, bound to a wall or a board: a prisoner doomed to die.
Zelda moved as if in a dream. She didn't remember washing up. She didn't even remember going to sleep. Exhaustion had hit her hard. But when her eyes opened, her body was sore from a motionless night curled into herself, a nightdress loose against her skin. Had she been so relaxed that she'd forgotten what it meant to be safe?
Well, until the moment her door creaked open, that is.
Eyes wide, heart pounding, Zelda gasped, sitting up and reaching for her empty night table, expecting to find her knife. Patting her clothes, she was in a nightdress without pockets. No garter. Revali's knife. It was gone. And someone was in her—
Paya smiled widely at Zelda, far too awake for a morning. "You look rested! Well… you look more rested," she said cheerfully, unbothered. Excited.
Letting her hand fall, Zelda took a breath, remembering that this was safe. She was safe. No pirate was going to chase her through the woods now. She'd not be dragged around like a ragdoll, passed from crew to crew like a sack of gold to the highest bidder. No. She was free of all that.
Such a concept already felt so distant now that she was under the sheets, and laid on a pillow of down feathers. Had she once slept in a hammock? Or had that been a terrible, exciting dream?
Zelda simply shook her head, remembering, at the very least, that Paya had spoken to her. "Not yet. I think I'll need a week to feel recovered."
Rubbing her eyes, Zelda finally had a moment to look around while Paya gathered Zelda some things together. Her own cabin. Even aboard The Wanderlust, Zelda hadn't been afforded such a luxury. But not here. Not for her father. The bedroom was small: a bolted-down bed, a desk, and a trunk for clothes, but she still didn't have to share it with any others. No Paya. No Urbosa. Not her father. Not a crew member.
It was a bizarre sense of relief and privacy that she hadn't realized she'd needed.
"Did you sleep soundly, at least?" Paya asked, ushering Zelda out of the bed so she could fix the sheet.
Zelda stumbled with the sway of the ship, her hands darting out to steady herself on anything solid. And to her oddest surprise, she found she missed the sway of the hammocks that rocked with the ship, negating some of that sickness and instability. In truth, if she didn't pass out immediately, Zelda was sure she would be sick, much as she had been all night.
"Yes, I slept well." She gripping the wall with her nails to stay upright.
"Your father wants to see us later this evening. He's interested in hearing our stories."
"So late?"
"You slept past midday. It's not long now."
"Is there even a point to dressing?" Zelda mused.
"Of course there is. You're meeting with your father."
"I—" but Zelda stopped herself, lacking the energy to explain. "Yes. You're right."
Since Zelda had no possessions, she borrowed one of Aryll's dresses for the day, as they were close enough in stature. The bodice was tight, but for the most part, they were about the same size.
She longed to ask Paya how her night had gone, what she'd done, did she fall asleep or find a book? But such questions were only fine as passing pleasantries, not as genuine conversation. Curiosity. That curse on humanity.
It was almost a physical pain to hold her tongue. Every piece of her longed to speak, to fidget, to wander and pace. She wanted to express how strange it was that there were no rupees in the boat, or how she'd wanted nothing more than her father's comforting embrace.
But that was all a dream. A dream from another island. She was back to reality.
And once she was dressed and Paya set about making the bed, Zelda stepped outside with the immediate decision to speak with Mipha.
She made it all the way to the kitchens before she was struck with how different everything looked.
Because Mipha wasn't there.
Well, Revali—
Goddess.
Zelda leaned against the wall as unfamiliar faces passed her by, glaring at the woman in their way. She had no place here. What was she doing?
Before her foot had even touched two steps, she heard a scream rip through the hallway, muffled by doors and walls, but still ominously distressing. It was a cry of pain; not fear or shock.
Stumbling off the stairs, Zelda recognized the voice. She'd never heard Link scream, not even when he'd been whipped, but she knew.
Four steps towards the hall the sound had come from, and she froze.
What was she doing?
Zelda backed up towards the stairs once again. Was Aryll close enough to have heard that? What was enough to make Link scream? And how was such a thing on her father's ship?
How long had she stood there, unsure how to make her feet return her to her cabin?
Long enough that Rhoam and the tall officer strode down the hallway. Rhoam looked surprised to see her, but his presence snapped her from the stupor she'd found herself in.
"Ah," Rhoam said, tugging at his coat sleeves while the other man hurried away. "I was just about to find you and Paya. Come. Let's talk in my office."
With one final look down the hall, Zelda willed her mind to forget. Tell the story once and for all, and let it leave her mind. Let it all leave her.
Almost from the start, Paya and Zelda's stories conflicted at every turn. They shot exasperated looks at the other until finally, Rhoam held up his hand and dismissed them so he could transcribe their report. And Zelda shuddered at which of their telling's he'd actually compose: Paya's exaggerated one built from fear, or hers told from experiences.
Rhoam had been stoic as she spoke. She'd recounted the gun held to her head, and he hadn't flinched. She'd left out the brothel, but described her attack in the woods.
And he'd hummed thoughtfully before leaning on his desk, a brow furrowed in thought. "It's too bad. We could have made a show of hanging him for that."
The lack of reactions hadn't simply been frustrating, it had been disconcerting.
But hours later, when Zelda had been called to meet with him once again, he did seem enthusiastic enough to formally introduce her to her future husband. There was a light and joy in Rhoam's eyes that hadn't been present at any other meeting.
"This is Lieutenant Rivan. Your fiancée. He'll be overseeing your safety on board once you're feeling well enough to move about the ship. He's quite a decorated soldier, and has dealt with piracy for many years. You'll be safe in his hands."
He gestured to the man beside him. The toweringly tall Lieutenant was covered in medals. He had brown hair, neatly trimmed below his hat, and an expression of stoicism that most soldiers wore. All in all? He was very Hylian.
She had to crane her neck to look up at her fiancée. "It's a pleasure to meet you, at last."
At this point, it was second nature to respond in polite, kind, reciprocated responses, even when overwhelmed. For that, she was beyond grateful right now; there was very little desire to put any effort into being polite, so letting it come naturally was her body's own personal gift to her.
Her father sure knew how to poorly time an introduction. He could have waited until they were in his sitting room at home with a hot tea and a cozy fire. They could have spoken and discussed what they find mutually interesting. She might have been able to see the towering man. But instead, she was left shrunken beside two giants, two domineering statures that were quickly suffocating her. And though Zelda was conventionally tall, both Rivan and Rhoam left her feeling cowed in their presence.
Rivan bowed before her. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well. I'm pleased to see that you are unscathed."
"Thank you."
Despite the height difference, Zelda could see that Rivan's hair was styled much like her father's, and their stances were the same. She couldn't help but wonder if it was a military stance or not, but toes outturned, heels together, arms behind their backs, coattails tucked under their arms to flash their medals. It was like she was looking at her father twice over.
Which unnerved her.
In the awkward stretch of silence that followed, she and Rivan could barely meet each other's eyes. Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she gnawed on it while waiting for something to break.
Rivan did. "The Governor is a wonderful man, and I am honored the Goddess chose me to follow him as a son through the law."
"Yes. I am pleased for that as well."
She used to be better at small talk.
Rhoam raised his brows, almost amused as he finally took his seat. Rivan scrambled to mirror him, taking the one beside him. "I've tried to picture you in my mind, but I always returned with an image of white hair and a beard. It seems, in my imaginings, I was wed to your father more than to one who looked like you."
Rhoam snorted this time, but covered his mouth and passed off the noise as a cough.
Rivan laughed awkwardly, and while Zelda appreciated the attempt at humor—hopefully, at least—her mouth opened, but only the creak of a sound found its way out. How was one meant to respond to that?
She didn't have to. Much like Link, it seemed Rivan was a nervous talker. Though, where Link's chatter was endearing, Rivan's was… less so.
"Well, at least your father was right when he said our children would look amenable. Not that it matters, of course. But to think of what you might have looked like… you're… yes. We'll make fine children."
"Yes," she breathed, struggling to swallow. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead, and she was positive it wasn't from the humidity.
On the third day, Rhoam had her summoned to the Captain's Quarters, which he'd taken over while on board, despite not being the Red Lion's permanent captain. Where that poor man had been relegated to, Zelda wasn't sure, but the office had the distinct feel of her father now.
A long desk was in the center of the room bolted to the floor, papers held down in place by various heavy objects littered the surface, and an empty cup of—what looked like—tea was sliding around on a saucer. That was one thing she remembered fondly of him. They'd sit for tea in the mornings that he was home in Hyrule with her. He'd make both cups, and they'd sip them in silent company until he left for the day.
Rhoam and Rivan sat on the other side of the desk, leaving it like a barrier between Zelda and them, like a line had been drawn, and they were waiting for her to cross it. Never had Zelda felt so small with their looming eyes cast upon her warily, as if she were withholding something, or carrying a disease of some sort.
"Yes?" she all but breathed when she stepped into the room.
"Sit, Zelda."
She hesitated but took a seat, anxiously spreading her skirt in the chair and running a hand several times over the folds until she felt comfortable enough to look up.
"Are you feeling well enough today to speak about some things that occurred while you were… away?" Rhoam asked as his downcast eyes flickered from his notebook to Zelda, burning into her with a fierce anticipation.
"Yes," she said cautiously, though her stomach rolled nervously.
"Then tell me what you learned."
Zelda looked between her father and fiancée, confused. "I'm sorry? What I learned about…what?"
"What do you know of their captain? That woman."
"Captain Urbosa? Not much. She's a good fighter; she saved me during that attack inland, though she's a bit frightening—" . I wouldn't want to cross swords with her, if that's what you mean. She's a fine leader, and she doesn't hesitate to enforce justice even on her closest friends, which makes her rather admired among the crew and inspires their loyalty, though she's a bit frightening—"
"Her weaknesses, Zelda."
What sort of a question was this? "I-I don't know. I wasn't close to her. We only spoke a few times in passing. She was much too busy to spend any time with me, thankfully., if I might add."
"Listen to me, Zelda," Rhoam said, leaning against the desk. "I had Milton give chase to their ship, but they haven't rendezvoused with us. They should have been able to catch up to us by now. At this point, we have to assume they've been sunk by those heathens. Our people were murdered. My people. Milton was a fine and loyal captain, and he's been slaughtered. Likely every man on that crew as well. Every brother, husband, son. They're all dead. We do not abide such an insult. I need you, Zelda. You're the only one who can help me because you're the only one who knows them. The prisoner is no use. His blind loyalty to them has clouded his ability to see any reason, as I expected. So, I need you. How do I make the most effective statement against the pirates?"
"I have no idea. I'm not a military strategist."
"No, you're not. But still, please. Help me. Work with me, Zelda. Secrets? Money? Friends? Family? What would bring her to her knees? You must have learned something."
Riju. Nabooru. The crew.
"I can't think of anything," she lied quickly. She couldn't condemn the little girl, at the very least. But the girl needed a living parent, so she couldn't name Nabooru. And the crew… well, surely that would be obvious. "I don't know!"
Rhoam sat back and sighed, running his hands across his face. Shoulders sagged like someone had dumped a massive weight against him and expected him to carry it uphill. "I'm disappointed in you."
"What?"
"You were with them for so long, yet you learned nothing? Did I misplace my trust in you?"
"I did nothing to—"
"Exactly. You did nothing."
Zelda's eyes darted to the side. To Rivan.
By the Goddess, his expression was cold and distrusting.
"I was kidnapped, Father. Not sent on a diplomatic mission for—"
"That's enough!" Rhoam hissed, slamming his fist against the desk, making Zelda flinch at the echoing noise. "It seems your manners were kidnapped along with your senses. Do not get snide with me."
It was Rivan who spoke next, much to Zelda's surprise. His deep voice didn't fit with her impression of his face, but he stepped forward so that he absolutely towered over Zelda. Her neck was craned just to see his eyes, which were cold and calculated, watching her warily. "Tell us who Riju is. Or had you simply forgotten her?"
Zelda's lips parted, not quite a gasp, but enough that she needed to consciously force her mind to work once more.
She'd just failed a test, horribly.
"Yes," Rhoam muttered, grabbing his journal. "Paya wasn't nearly as useless on her journey as you seem to have been. Who is she?"
A long moment passed as Zelda tried to reason out what he'd already been told. Paya had already informed her father of Urbosa's weaknesses, apparently. Weaknesses Zelda would have known. Weaknesses that Zelda had told Paya in the first place. She couldn't lie out of this one, not even to protect a little girl.
"She's a child. The Goddess preaches that children are innocents in all this, Father. If they are ignorant and untaught, they are innocent. She didn't even know who Hylia was when I mentioned Her."
Rhoam sat forward, his gaze leveled with Zelda's. "I am aware of her standing in the Goddess's eyes, and this little girl would be welcomed into our faith. But this child is presently being raised by murderers and thieves. To not know the Goddess is a sin they have thrust upon her. We must protect the girl from her own family. And if that means we have to remove a few criminals from the world in the process, then it's all the better."
"So," Zelda reasoned, "You just want to go to Outset and take Riju? And if anyone gets in your way, you'd kill them." Narrowing her eyes, she watched her father settle comfortably into his chair. It was unlike him to be so passive in his approach.
He wanted something, something from Urbosa. Her submission? Did he want to see her beg? Plotting to kidnap a child in order to steal her from her parents? Inevitably converting her religion as a means of spite? An attack so personal it would cut Urbosa deeper than a sword?
"You're not going there to… to simply kill Riju. Right?"
Rhoam's lips twitched up, a humorless laugh low and soft, but in the silence of the room, it echoed. "Kill a child? Why would I do that? Were you influenced by the lies those pirates fed you? Do you believe I could murder a young girl?"
Hesitant once again, Zelda fidgeted in her chair and sighed. "No. Of course not. But this seems so cruel to Riju, to lose both her parents so you can have some revenge on a pirate."
"The ends always justify the means, Zelda. How can you be defending any other course of action? We will make our world safe, Zelda. How can you not want that?"
"I do! But this just happened to me! I was terrified! The sounds that I heard when they came and took Paya and I from the Wanderlust were the worst. You're going to do to her what they did to me. I- I can't see how that helps."
"Well, that's why you have no authority to make these decisions. I keep my people safe. And if we can take a few heathens down from the inside while we go for the girl, I wouldn't complain about that either."
The bitter coldness of his tone made Zelda do a doubletake to see if this was really her father. To speak so callously of murder and kidnapping while he denounced it in another breath? Had he always been like this, and she'd just forgotten?
He tsked. "Well, that's all I wanted from you. I'll call for you if I believe there's more you can attempt to help me with. Try to recall a few useful things from your stay there. I have faith that you will."
"Yes, Father," she said, cowed by his tone.
She'd never gotten out of a chair so fast in her life.
On the fourth day, Zelda was on the main deck, despite everyone's protest at her being in the way. She was beyond thirsty from days of seasickness. Her tongue was sandpaper in her mouth, scratching at the roof of it like it were trying to smooth out every cavity.
Though her feet had gotten used to the rhythm and sway of the ship by now walking without stumbling at least, her head hadn't quite gotten there. It spun; the ship was caught in a whirlpool in her mind, unable to find dry land. It was irksome but manageable, to an extent. Still, resting her head against the mast for a moment gave her the illusion of something solid and immobile, and it was enough for her mind to quieten its complaints just to function.
From where she stood, she could see Rivan, tall as ever, looming above everyone else as he stood at the banister from the top deck that overlooked the rest of the ship.
In truth, that was about the most she'd learned about him so far: he's tall and loves to tower over people. His brown hair was clean and shimmered in the sun because his hat was tucked under his arm, and he wore his regalia, decked out in medals and full naval colors despite simply being with his crew. It was… unusual.
It struck a chord, and Zelda found herself nonchalantly crossing the deck, quickly stepping behind one of the ship's three masts when her father pushed the door open from his room and called for Rivan. They muttered something to each other, something that sounded like a greeting—though Zelda was too far away to hear exactly what was said—and then made their way below deck.
Picking up her skirts in one hand and the water in the other, she hurried after them.
There was one thing Zelda had most definitely learned though her years of posh parties and crowded halls: how to maneuver her way around almost anything. She was light on her feet as she darted down the stairs of the opened grate into the interior of the ship, hardly making a sound as her feet landed with delicate precision each time she moved, almost like the dances she'd learned from Impa. Immediately spinning to her right, Zelda ducked behind the stairs to be sure no one had seen her come in.
Rivan and Rhoam kept walking, and a crew member walked by with their attention elsewhere.
Cursing her dress for being so incredibly out of place among the crew that she'd stand out like a sore thumb simply walking like normal, it became a game, of sorts, to manage to follow her father. Using every and any object to hide behind, she pushed forward until she heard the murmur of voices coming from a secluded alcove that she knew was meant for storage.
She managed to get behind one of the barrels just outside the door, sliding down to stay small and hidden. It was the perfect place to eavesdrop, so closing her eyes to hear better, she was left wondering what was going on in such a strange area.
The voices were all familiar. Her father's voice. Rivan's voice.
Link's.
"—the best option," Rivan said, Zelda missing the beginning of the conversation.
"Fuck off."
Zelda made a face. She didn't need to guess who that was.
"You deserve to burn in the eternal pits of Demise in an endless hell."
"I'll save you a spot beside me." Link's voice was far too pleasant despite the rasp that clawed its way out of what sounded like an abused throat, raw from restrained grunts and groans and screams, but Zelda could imagine his smug smile was irking her father at that very moment.
There was a thud, and Link grunted. The rattle of chains resounding off the walls and he wheezed wearily.
Zelda flinched and covered her mouth to silence herself. While she figured Link would face repercussions for any of his snide comments, it still surprised her.
Link rasped, gargled on something, maybe blood? Spit? Air? His voice was hard to hear, and growing more raw. She couldn't hear what he muttered this time.
Another impact. Another grunt. Louder.
"Your threats are empty. You corrupted her, like the demon you are."
Link laughed. "Oh yes, close enough for her to nearly get me killed. More than once, mind you. You should be so proud," he hissed, sarcasm harshly dripping from his lips.
Another thud.
"You had her against her will, and you dare speak ill of her?"
"Be calm, Rivan," Rhoam hissed. "You're not going to get anywhere by yelling at a wild animal; you have to beat it."
Link spat, and Zelda grimaced at the audible noise it made. She wanted to look around the corner so badly to see what was happening, but Link started to laugh, a thick and heavy thing that surely wasn't his genuine laugh, nor even his mildly amused laugh. It was dark, slow, and left Zelda shuddering.
"Yes, I held your daughter against her will, sure; but I'm quite good at converting saints into sinners."
Zelda pressed her hand harder against her mouth, finally peeking into the room.
Rhoam stood in her way, but she could see Link's hands chained above his head to a beam on the ship. And quickly, Rhoam's fist balled up, throwing the entirety of his body into hitting Link. A sick gurgle, and Rhoam spit on Link. "Pirate scum."
That's when she saw him.
As her father moved, she could see Link stumble, relying on his chains to keep his feet after the impact. But his muscles pulled taut, and she imagined that all of his strength was going into the action from the labored grunt he let out. And no sooner did he stand than the resounding smack of bone on skin had Link's head flying off to the side once again.
His face was covered in red, small welts from fists lumping up, cuts to his skin. His hair was matted, sweaty, bloody. Thick red lines smeared along his face, spattered around from the impacts of fists, the spray of fresh blood from cuts on his lips, his nose, his skin. It practically seeped from his mouth. There was a large burn on his chest, marred red and black, ugly with the potential infection it might have brought on. He looked an absolute wreck.
Zelda's lips parted as the smallest gasp escaped her. She wasn't shocked, but Goddess above, that had to hurt. She didn't want to look, but there was a morbid fascination that kept her eyes locked on him, much like when he'd been whipped.
Link stared back at Rhoam, his teeth stained with a red smile. "Your daughter hits harder than that."
Rhoam scowled, and slammed his fist into Link again, shaking out his own hand. Link spat a wad of blood from his mouth onto Rhoam's boots, the hint of a mischievous grin on his face as he kept his balance from the impact, red dots starting to paint the area around him, dripping off his chin.
Rhoam took a step closer so he was absolutely towering over Link now. "How pitiful you are: chained up like a dog. You're all bark. Perhaps I should find you a collar and a muzzle to remind you who's in charge now."
Link looked up at Rhoam, the veins in his neck bulging, the blood seeping off his face.
"I'm quite comfortable navigating my way around chains. You should try it sometime; it relieves stress. Your tall pet here looks like he'd gladly kneel for you."
Zelda bit her lip, preparing for the physical fallout from that comment. But it didn't come.
Rivan stepped closer to Link, nose to nose. "You disgusting creatin! How dare you—" he took a deep breath, steeling himself before lowering his voice, Rivan was breathing heavily. "Believe me, pirate, I'll lose no sleep over the sight of your body swinging outside my window until the birds pluck you clean."
"Careful," Link rasped. "Your bride might not trust you to decorate ever again if you do."
"I would cut your tongue from your mouth now just to hear you shut you up. You don't need that intact for your trial."
Link coughed, a phlegmy sound. "At least bring your fiancée to the show. Then I'll have someone to imagine using my tongue on one last time."
Zelda ducked back into place just before there was a final resounding thud. Link loudly wheezed and coughed again before the chains rattled, and she could hear him stumble.
"Rivan, stop. He's hardly worth the effort of your time. Let's go. Don't rise to his taunts."
Two shadows passed by her, quickly leaving the room. "I can't believe that's what Zelda had to tolerate," Rivan muttered as they walked until their words were too low for her to hear.
And when they faded away, Link panted and coughed, the sound of chains banging together as he moved and struggled. He hissed in pain; a strained groan rattled out of him as he settled back into place and silence fell over the room to make his loud breaths echo.
Everything in her begged her eyes to just peak around the corner, but she couldn't do it, not as she listened to his labored breathing.
Instead, Zelda made her way back to her room on the main deck, the water she'd gotten forgotten entirely as her heart sped, and she raced to get back.
Back where she was safe, and where she could keep pretending everything was fine.
On the fifth day, Zelda sat in her father's cabin with Aryll and Paya.
Something about being with them felt natural, like she'd been doing it her whole life, while another part screamed out in protest of the strained silence as opposed to the loudness of the Epona's crew. But this was a discomfort that she was used to. She'd sit with Impa for hours sipping tea without a word, or playing the fortepiano to tunes she'd heard her whole life with a silent crowd watching her. It felt like this now.
"My brother was not at all how I imagined him," Aryll said, speaking for the first time to break the silence. Her voice was light, and she had the unmistakable accent of a proper Hylian, no country girl, no province or territory, but the heart of Hyrule. Link's accent had been tainted by his years at sea, but Aryll's matched the cadence of Zelda's nearly perfectly. Her posture was prim and pristine, and she had the faintest smirk etched on her face, one that reminded Zelda of Link a little too much.
"How did you imagine him, then?" Zelda asked, trying to avoid sounding too curious, but merely polite.
"Less… feral."
"It's the hair," Zelda jested, chuckling to herself at her own memories.
"What?"
"Never mind."
Paya sat forward, humming contentedly. "Miss Zelda, this has been a lot. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Zelda snapped curtly.
"The pirate being here must be preventing you from moving forward, getting them all out of your mind."
Sharply, Zelda let out a long breath.
Paya was unaffected. "He seemed so amenable to you back on shore. I truly thought he might have had an inkling of kindness for you. But he's proven it was all an act for the money. Treachery at the heart of every action, I suppose. I hope you can see now what he really is."
Zelda's eyes were hard on Paya's, but as her words sank in, they softened. Link was smarter than she liked to give him credit for.
Link was overexaggerating her actions, and pinning their closeness as a fault on him, not her. For some unknown reason, he wasn't intent on taking Zelda down with him. While she certainly could have done without the vulgarity about her, to a Hylian, every curse was like a puncture wound to the ear. The more he insulted her, the viler he was, the less her father would believe they were of like minds. And Link, being Hylian, knew that.
She only wished she understood why he was doing this.
Aryll sighed, interrupting Zelda's thoughts. "I'm sorry for the actions of my brother. The last time I saw him, he was being carried away. Even then, he'd begun his path of violence that led him to piracy. He lost his mind and started fighting everyone who was with us. Some soldiers, I believe. I remember… I remember a woman kept me safe, and the others took Link away. And that was the last time I saw him. Until now."
"Violence?"
Aryll fidgeted before sitting up a little straighter, even more so than Paya. "He may be my brother, but even I can denounce his decisions, can't I? No sane person supports piracy. I was raised to respect law. I won't attempt to justify my brother's behavior, even if he did it for me."
Nodding absently, Zelda couldn't help but wonder how deep that sentiment ran.
On the seventh day, they were set to arrive on Windfall Island.
Rhoam had come to fetch Zelda and stood at attention beside her. "Zelda, I'm glad you still have your wits about you. You faced disgusting characters and survived their abhorrence with as much grace as you could save. I am proud of you for that."
Zelda turned to him, a gleam in her eyes, a smile on her lips at the compliment, but he was gazing straight at land as it grew bigger before promptly leaving for his disembarking duties. Zelda stood on the deck, her hair blowing in the wind as she looked on in awe as the buildings came into view, people mulling around could be seen, and civilization began to reappear.
Goddess above, Windfall was no Outset Island. This was a burgeoning city.
She could see mills far in the distance spinning with the wind, and boats that were houses and businesses along the shoreline. It was busy, but even from the distance the chaos was organized, unlike the beach on Outset. There, everything was strewn around, crews set up wherever they could, but this? This reminded her of Hyrule.
Zelda was rowed over immediately with her father, though he'd placed a cloak around her before they left so no one could see her less than proper raggedy clothing. Aryll and Paya were brought back ashore with her, though there was still a tense silence that stayed between the three of them. Rivan stayed behind, organizing everyone else's arrival.
Being on land was… Goddess, it was heaven.
She wasn't on the shifting sand of a beach, nor was she on the merciless rocking of a ship, but she was on solid ground. Solid ground that she would be staying on. Sure, the stay at Nabooru's had been a lovely reprieve from the waves, but it was always with the knowledge that she'd have to go back. But now?
Zelda covered her mouth and let out a sob, collapsing to the ground as her knees refused to support her. For all she'd tolerated, the sublime taste of freedom crashed over her like a wave, and she let it take her away. The dirt beneath her hands was precious, and she fisted it eagerly, her other hand pressing her mouth shut.
Rhoam was looking around anxiously when Zelda glanced at him. She needed him to bend down and comfort her. Perhaps he'd been gone too long to know how to be a father? So again, Zelda was left with her arms tight around herself, rocking herself back and forth though tears, uncaring if her father was embarrassed at her scene. She didn't care about anything in that moment except that she was free.
"Let's go home," Rhoam said, placing a hand under her elbow to help her up before walking ahead to a carriage.
Once Zelda climbed inside, it was like she'd finally woken from a nightmare and stepped into a fairytale. The buildings were colorful and new, and there were no taverns or brothels to be found. Some shop owners swept outside their doors, but the streets were clean and empty, with business indoors rather than out. Goddess, it was more like Hyrule proper with every street they passed.
There were two Sanctuaries of the Goddess, which felt excessive, especially given how grand they were. But the king endorsed this endeavor, so clearly, this was considered rupees well-spent. Even the path away from the beach was lined with well-build homes and stores.
The further into the interior of the island they went, the more the buildings became scarce, and farm land of crops and animals took up the area.
The large mansion on a massive property that the carriage pulled up to had one word written on a wooden sign. 'Nohansen.'
Pristine grass of pure green and fences of incomprehensible white lined the drive, and Zelda wanted to cry again, especially when the doors of her home were opened, waiting for her to step out of the carriage and inside.
She vaguely paid attention to Rhoam telling the carriage driver where to drop Aryll off, and she hardly heard the instructions he gave Paya. Entranced, her feet moved without permission and took her inside.
High ceilings with so many windows lit up the room so incredibly. There were paintings and décor all along the walls, but Zelda's eye went to an old suit of armor that she remembered used to be in their old house. It was something he'd taken with him last time. A grandfather clock ticked in the distance, and there was the excited murmur of several servants in the next room.
"I'll send a few of the ladies to help you clean and dress for dinner. You… are in dire need of a bath, Zelda."
"Yes," she breathed, laughing. "Yes, I believe I am."
Paya wasn't among the help; instead, she was offered her own soak so she didn't wander around fouling up the place.
Zelda ducked her head into a warm tub of orange peels and flower petals, letting the ladies use their nails to dig into her skull, to wipe every inch of dirt and piracy off of her. The soap, the shampoo, the water, the heat, the steam. It had all nearly lulled her into a much-needed sleep as her muscles relaxed for the first time in what felt like several long months.
But the promise of the steak dinner a maid told her about had her eager to dress. The wardrobe was not entirely prepared for her arrival—assuming that she'd have brought her trunks on her original journey—but they did have night clothes for her, something decent enough that she wouldn't be embarrassed sitting at the table in. But truth be told, Rhoam would likely have had her eat in her room rather than wear her old dress, so she didn't mind a little embarrassment.
Dinners were silent. On the opposite end of a long table from her father, Zelda fidgeted, unable to take the clinking of silverware on the plate and soft chewing.
"This is good," she tried, attempting conversation.
He hummed.
"I think the house is lovely."
Setting his utensils down, he indulged her with a polite smile, but it was tense. "Thank you."
After three more bites, she pointed to the clock. "Is that from home? It looks it. I seem to recall that it was from one of mom's old—"
"Zelda!" he hissed. "Did Impa not teach you anything? Dinner is silent contemplation, and time to thank the Goddess for this meal. I'll chalk your lapse in judgement up to a break in routine, but you will remain silent. And do not bring up your mother."
Biting her lip, she picked up her silverware once again and cut into the meat. Goddess, he could have broken the rules for his child he hadn't seen in years. "Yes, Father; I'm sorry."
The meal was tense after that. Zelda ate slowly, trying to understand how an entire life of etiquette and training had been so easily besmirched by such a short span of time with pirates. She knew her father didn't like to talk about her mother. Why had she brought it up so casually? Had she gotten so used to listening to the raucous conversations and hearty laughter on the beaches of Outset, even the loud arguments and slinging slurs.
But reverting to normal? It shouldn't be this much of a learning curve.
Maybe she needed to sleep on it.
"Father?" she cut into the silence, making his head snap up suddenly, surprised that she'd speak again. "I believe my ordeal has tired me. I'd like to return to my room for the night."
His expression softened, and he let out a weary sigh. "Of course, Zelda. I'll send someone up to attend you."
"Thank you."
She stood up and headed towards the stairwell, but she stopped at the door's large archway and leaned into it, turning to face him again.
"I know I've said it, but thank you… for coming for me."
Rhoam set his things down and turned in his seat, exhaling heavily, exhausted. But as he looked her over, a small, relieved smile touched his lips. "It's good to have you here. I'd debated when to call for you from Hyrule, and it seems my ill-timed decision led to this. I know… I know the Goddess wanted it to be this way, but there is still a lingering sense of guilt that I have tried to pray away. So please, forgive me, Zelda."
A light laugh bubbled up, a relief all her own that she hadn't expected at his words. "There's nothing to forgive."
He nodded once. "Get some rest."
Her feet barely made a noise on the grand staircase as she returned to her room and opened the doors. She wasn't sure how long it would take her to get used to the grandeur of this room that even hers with Impa in Hyrule hadn't possessed.
While the servants had prepared her bath earlier, she'd admired the tapestries that hung along every wall, each depicting a scene of the Goddess' struggles that she overcame. Above each was the embellished gold trimmings of intricate and meticulously carved roses all along the jut before the ceiling. And Goddess above… that ceiling.
It was painted with the most detailed and stunning display of the Goddess resting in the Sacred Realm, her eyes peacefully closed on a cloud, as if to remind anyone that there was rest after the toil and suffering that they all must endure. The sentiment was calming. She remembered being told such a thing as a child: that one should not fear death, for it's a peaceful second life in the Sacred Realm, a reward for the work done in life.
Her feet were cold against the wooden floor by the door, but as she moved closer into the room, it warmed up from the heat the fireplace was putting off. And though it was warm outside, a near permanent chill had settled over Zelda, and the extra heat was a comfort until that chill could break. She sat on the footstool in front of her tall, green canopy bed, and waited.
Paya was already asleep, and would begin work the next day, so several other female servants fussed over Zelda, brushing her hair, and helping her change into a night gown that she hadn't worn through dinner, taking this one away to be washed.
She was tucked into bed, practically immobile. She'd forgotten the feel of sheets and blankets swaddling her after so much time curled up on a hammock. Silky and smooth, she was enjoying simply running her hands along the sheets. And something about that motion lulled her into a sleep so deep, she didn't dream, nor stir for the entire night.
A/N: I posted this on Ao3 2 days ago and forgot I had a FFN account to be honest! One day, when these fics are done, I think I'll be permanently over there. Also, it's 5am and I'm so tired but just remembered to post this here, so I see your comments, I love you more than anything for them, and I'll try to remember to pop on tomorrow at a reasonable time to answer any past comments I might have missed, but I'm too tired right now haha! Also, FFN no longer sends me emails for anything, even stuff I have set to "send" so idk why FFN hates me hahaha!