Chapter 55: Sensing Danger

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Note: Aspects of this chapter are inspired by Zelda's ability to telepathically reach out to Link in game, when he first wakes up and periodically when the Blood Moon rises.

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Link felt nervous at first, a mad squirrel scampering around his stomach as he dismissed the guards outside of Zelda's chambers with a nod and took up his post at her door. But the Master Sword felt warm against his back, seeming somehow to exude a comforting aura that eased the knots of tension between his shoulders and at the base of his back and neck. As gray early-morning minutes ticked slowly by, his anxiety bubbled away and the squirrel in his gut slept soundly. He thought of this day compared to the previous several - he would be with Zelda, out in the far more visually-pleasing upper reaches of the castle and perhaps even outside, instead of down in that bleak, grimy hole that composed the Hinox's cell.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much he looked forward to resuming his position. Perhaps even too much. He could imagine what the General would say - "It's good to enjoy your work here, but remember - her life's in your hands. You did make mistakes in the past - learn from them, and do better this time."

When Zelda emerged dressed in the thicker winter variant of her usual castle attire, she noticed him at once and beamed; after a furtive glance down the hall she reached for him with arms outstretched. Grinning widely, feeling lighter at the mere sight of her, Link happily enfolded her into a close embrace.

"You're back, at last," Zelda smiled, tilting her head just slightly upwards to meet his gaze. "Goddesses above, I sometimes can't believe you won that fight - but I'm so thankful you did."

Link nodded, his thoughts turning briefly back to his beating, Filos' treachery, Choice's… absence, the duel with Janin… He inhaled Zelda's familiar, calming sweet scent, focused on the feel of her hand at the back of his neck, gently toying with his hair, and let his mind clear. "A blessing from the Goddesses, for certain," he murmured. "I'm… glad it's all in the past."

Zelda let her arms drop and lightly squeezed his hand, stepping away and starting down the hall. "I'll pray for a much brighter future," she promised.

It proved to be easier than he expected, falling back into Zelda's daily routine. His body and mind remembered what he was supposed to do - remembered how many steps to allow between them, how to let his mind empty of thoughts and fill instead with feedback from eyes and ears, alert and wary for any sign of danger.

Zelda's morning prayers in the castle's private cathedral seemed to be going better than he could have hoped; although her powers never manifested, she often emerged from the waters with a peaceful smile on her lips - even without a direct response from divinity, the simple act of reaching out to the Goddesses in earnest humility and willingness to serve seemed to have brought peace to her soul. After a quick morning meal she would retire to the library and engage in an ongoing study of what appeared to be old journals.

"My mother's," Zelda explained when she noticed his curious gaze. "The priests - and Lady Impa, and my father - have been planning different ways to perhaps bring me closer to awakening my powers; this is one thing they've come up with." Her smile faltered, and instinctively Link, standing just to the side of her chair, let his hand rest on hers, a subtle gesture of comfort. "Although I'm… enjoying this opportunity to… to get to know her better, it also… it just doesn't seem like it's helping the way they thought it would."

Link remembered Impa mentioning a journey to Kakariko - one that he wasn't supposed to mention to the Princess. Perhaps it has something to do with their plans to help her with her powers, then.

On many days Zelda shared her lunch with Purah, back in her study. Link couldn't help but wonder for the umpteenth time how the short explosion of energy and enthusiasm that Purah embodied could possibly be related to someone as stoically composed as Impa. Or, in fact, how Purah could possibly be older than Impa; she bore greater resemblance to a young child than any other adult Link had ever encountered.

Purah noticed his scrutiny on his first day back and smirked. "Word is that you've been working with my sister," she remarked, propping her chin on her fists, her elbows on Zelda's desk. "So?"

Link frowned at her blankly. "So…?"

Purah rolled her eyes. "So whadda you think? Me or her?"

Zelda snorted. "What kind of a question is that? You're not saying - Purah, you're thirty years old!"

"Not like that," Purah winced, tsk-tsking. "Goddesses, Zelda! Clean up your thoughts! No, it's a running… shall we say… good-natured competition between me and my dear little sister - how many people prefer one of us over the other." She smiled sweetly. "I'm winning, so far. So what's your verdict?"

In that moment, Link couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Impa, remembering how intimidated he had felt by her at first. Surely there aren't many people that enjoy her presence.

I… I can relate to that. His entire life, how many of his peers had detested his presence at one point or another? He couldn't begin to count - which was partly why Choice, and eventually Zelda, held such tender places in his heart.

Purah waited expectantly for his answer, her lips pursed and her eyes ever so slightly narrowed, and Zelda looked on with patient amusement.

"Well…" Link swallowed, his gaze flitting across the scattered piles of books and notes and plants to avoid meeting Purah's eyes. "I guess I prefer both of you."

Purah straightened, her eyes flying wider and her eyebrows disappearing beneath her bangs. Then she laughed. "No wonder you and Zellie get along as well as you do - she said the same thing!"

Link chuckled halfheartedly, catching Zelda's eye and feeling heat crawling across his cheeks. He looked away. "Look, maybe this competition isn't… a great idea. It… it could end up hurting someone."

Purah snorted. "Well, clearly it's not hurting me, so you must mean - hurt Impa? Look, I know this might sound callous, but something as superficial as this could never hurt her. Nothing gets through that thick skin of hers - which is a bit infuriating, in all honesty." She frowned, her brows pulled unhappily together.

Link studied her carefully, noting the hard glint in her fiery eyes masking the barest hint of sadness. They're… not exactly a happy family, then. Things have come between them - driven them apart.

Goddesses willing, they'll overcome their pride someday and reconcile.

He let the subject drop and faded once more into the background of the study, his senses stretching outwards, ever vigilant.

The conversations between the Princess and her daily guest usually drifted from one light subject to the next - the looming spring and the apparently dark, stormy winter (Link had missed a great deal of it, spending a month in the gloomy Hinox prison, and hadn't known much of what the weather was doing); the increasingly drab meals due to the difficulty of transporting fresh fruits from the southern reaches of the kingdom along treacherous mud- and ice-ridden roads apparently now plagued by wandering monster bands as well; Zelda's birthday a little over a month away; ongoing auditions being held for a new court poet…

But the day came, near the beginning of Link's second week on guard, when their discussion turned to graver matters once the food was gone and Purah pulled out her personal research notebook bursting at the seams filled with loose papers shoved between pages and bound in place by twine.

"You remember that falcon we placed in the Shrine of Resurrection?" she asked, her voice forcibly carefree, as if she was preparing to downplay a bit of bad news. "Well… it… we gave it back to its master a couple weeks ago; the wing had healed perfectly, with just a bit of a scar. Now we're testing on a dog that was mauled by a wolf."

Purah fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing her legs and tapping her fingers restlessly along the pages of her notebook, but she didn't continue.

Zelda frowned, her lips tightening in concern. "But…?" she prompted.

Purah winced, looking away and thumbing absently through her notes. "The falcon was… feral," she said quietly. "It treated its human family as it would any other group of people. They've been working with it and it's beginning to… well, remember them, for lack of a better word; it's remembering that it isn't supposed to attack them, that it's supposed to take orders from them, allow them to handle it… They didn't have to reteach the various routines they used when hunting - its skills were perfectly intact. Which is good, of course; I just… it's frightening, how it seemed to have completely forgotten the bond it shared with its master and his household…" She shook her head with a shudder.

Zelda's brow was deeply furrowed as she contemplated Purah's report. "And you… you think this happened because of the Shrine?"

"There's not nearly enough data to say for sure," Purah admitted grimly. "It could just as easily have been a result of trauma from its injury. But it's… it's enough to really get me thinking. What if the Shrine is broken - what if it lost some of its structural integrity over the past 10,000 years? It's such a long time… Or what if we're missing some key aspect of getting it to work? A rune on the Sheikah Slate, perhaps stored inside one of the shrines we have yet to gain access to - of which there are at least a hundred! We just - we don't know what we're dealing with, and I worry about the consequences of playing with this kind of power without understanding it."

Link felt his heart dropping further, his blood freezing more, with each of Purah's words. He thought of the dark, cave-like innards of the Shrine, of the stale air and the foreboding aura that engulfed him when he was inside. It was an ancient place, unfathomably old, a place of great and terrible power. He felt a chill, like an icy talon, claw a path down his spine and shivered. She's right. We - they - don't know what they're doing. We don't even know what the consequences could be. And…

A tamed falcon turned feral, its skills intact but its trust and familial bonds shattered.

And that could be disastrous.

He looked down at Zelda, who had yet to say a word. Her face had gone pale, her gaze clouded with the barest hint of fear. Their eyes met; he could tell that she had reached the same conclusion.

Then she smiled, though it was clearly forced and didn't reach her haunted gaze. "Let's hope it won't be necessary, then," she said with brevity that sounded equally forced, equally out of place. "We aren't that much of a lost cause, are we? We're prepared - whenever the Calamity shows itself, we know what to do. We'll… be ready."

But her voice dropped at the last word, and Link felt his heart squeeze; he could guess what thoughts ran through her mind as her face fell, and her gaze dropped to her hands clasped in her lap. We have the guardians, we have the Divine Beasts, we have the Master Sword…

He swallowed thickly, running his tongue over lips that felt suddenly dry. But we don't have the Sealing powers of the Goddesses' chosen vessel.

He felt something solidify in his heart, loose, fluid water turned to resolute ice. Not yet. But soon - I know it. Soon.

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Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed, porcelain cheeks painted silver in the moonlight as she stood perfectly still, her arms held just outstretched from her sides.

Her lashes fluttered; she nodded slowly. "I feel it," she whispered. "It's… still there."

"Good," Link murmured, watching anxiously. "Is it… is it a location, or… a state of mind, that you feel?"

Zelda pressed her lips into a thin line, giving her head a slight shake. "I… I don't know how to explain; it's… neither, I think…"

Link moistened his lips. Goddesses, let this work - or at least help, he prayed. It had been his idea that perhaps by focusing on and honing what powers Zelda had already obtained, she might somehow become able to harness her sealing powers as well. And seeing as visions could not occur on demand, he figured it would make more sense for her to focus on the connection she felt between them.

But it was such a unique bond, almost sacred, that Zelda hadn't felt at all comfortable with the thought of practicing anywhere she could be disturbed. Even her study wasn't private enough, considering that Purah had access. So it was that when night cloaked the kingdom once more Link used the spell of concealment to enter her room once more.

"I'm going to move somewhere else," Link said quietly. "Maybe… maybe see if anything changes."

And he cast another spell, catching the wavering air and the humming of the fire and weaving them together about his feet. Silent as a mouse's breath he walked slowly, carefully away from her desk, towards the hearth. Zelda tilted her head from side to side, as if trying to hear him; Link felt a grim sort of satisfaction settle over him. She wouldn't be able to rely at all on her physical senses - Impa had made sure of that. And anyway, the whole point of this is to have her focus on what's inside, not outside.

A beat passed; then another. The crease between her brows deepened. "Warmth," she breathed. "I… I feel… warmth from you. You're… close to the fire."

Link felt a smile pushing at his lips but he bit it down. "Keep going," he urged. "Is there anything else?"

Her face softened; the taught corners of her lips relaxed. "You're safe."

Safe? "What do you mean?"

"There is…" she shook her head, frowning again as she concentrated. "There's no one… and nothing… nothing nearby to harm you."

Link's eyes stretched wide. "So you can feel when I'm in danger," he realized, and this time he did smile. "Zelda, that's incredible!"

"But not particularly useful," she pointed out. "We're always together - if you're in danger, I'll be in danger as well, so there's no need for me to use this… this bond to gain that insight."

Link's smile faded, and he offered a halfhearted shrug despite knowing she couldn't see him. "Well… you never know," he responded hopefully. He glanced at the fire crackling merrily just behind him, forging an idea in his mind. Quietly he inched closer, feeling the air grow uncomfortably - almost painfully - warmer.

"Don't do that," Zelda said suddenly, stiffening, a note of urgency tainting her voice. "Whatever you're doing - the warmth is still there, but - it's not… you need to -"

Link hopped forward several steps before his trousers could ignite, wincing. Zelda breathed out a light sigh.

"You went closer to the flames," she accused scoldingly.

"To see if I was right," he countered with a sheepish chuckle. "Before, I was just guessing. Now we have proof."

Zelda smirked, her eyelids fluttering. "It seems my scholarly ways are finally rubbing off on you," she teased, and Link felt his heart swell unexpectedly with momentary recollection of his parents. Zelda went on, more seriously. "But we need more than just one trial. I… I don't know how dangerous it could be in my room…"

"I'll think of something," Link grinned. He stole silently across the room back to her balcony and eased open the doors. The cold felt just as striking and hungry as ever at first, and he heard Zelda draw in a sharp gasp, no doubt detecting the change in temperature. But after the initial shock wore away he found it more tolerable. The little pinpricks of ice trickling along his skin were merely tasting him, no longer looking to devour him.

Careful not to make a sound, or a wrong move, he gripped the balustrade with both hands and lifted his legs up and over until he was sitting with his feet dangling over the hundred-foot drop to unforgiving stone far below. Zelda gasped again, sounding now afraid. Link gulped, knuckles white on the balustrade, and looked over his shoulder at Zelda.

"It's worse than last time," she winced. "Din's mercy… I don't like this…"

"So you can feel it again?" Link asked, forcing his voice not to shake. A familiar thought popped into his mind; he imagined Revali's satisfied smirk upon learning that the Hylian Champion didn't get along well at all with heights.

"Y-yes," Zelda whispered, her voice soft and strained. Then she swayed where she stood, and Link felt something cold drop into his stomach. "Get… get away from… come… back…"

Link scrambled back over the balustrade and sprinted back inside, driven by heart-thumping worry, just in time to lunge and catch her in his arms the instant her legs gave out. Her head lolled on her shoulders as he gently lowered her to the ground, and his throbbing heart jumped to his throat. "Zelda?" he whispered, checking her pulse with shaking fingers - it was fast, frightfully fast, but as he kept his fingers against her throat he could feel it gradually slowing. Her breaths evened out; her heartbeat returned to a normal pace and remained there. "Zelda?"

Her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked open her eyes, blearily taking in her room surrounding her before her gaze settled on his face. "That was… exhausting," she mumbled, closing her eyes for another moment.

Link's shoulder sagged and he swallowed thickly past the lump his panicking heart had left behind in his throat. "Nayru's love, Zelda, I'm so sorry - we shouldn't have - I'm so sorry…"

Zelda chuckled, throwing him an exasperated look. "I'm fine - just tired. I feel quite a bit better already, I think… It seems that magic of this sort requires… a great deal of energy to maintain." With one hand tightly gripping his shoulder she pushed herself into a sitting position. "I think it's a combination of both how long I was focusing on this bond and the added strain of holding that focus while you were endangered."

She offered him a wry smile. "I doubt the Goddesses meant for me to hang on to it for so long at a time. It's meant to be a quick thing - I feel it, I determine where you are, if that's possible, and either I go to help you myself or I get help, letting the connection sort of… fade to the background in my mind." She grinned widely. "But perhaps it's like any other skill or muscle - you exercise it, and it gets stronger."

Link eyed her skeptically, pressing his lips together. He wanted to refute her, but essentially that had been his idea all along - help her practice using her powers in order to develop them further. "I… I don't want you to get hurt," he murmured after a brief pause. "Maybe… maybe we shouldn't…"

"Link, I promise, I'm alright. This didn't hurt me at all - see?" She spread her arms wide as if in imitation of Daruk's bear hug. "And if you're worried about me falling down, perhaps I'll do it while sitting on my bed or a chair next time. But I need to do this, and you're the only person in the world capable of helping me, since this connection is only between the two of us."

Link winced, rubbing the back of his head. As he examined her, he could confirm that she didn't seem physically affected in any lingering way. He swallowed. "If there's ever any pain, or you don't come to soon enough if you collapse again, I won't do it," he warned, a tremor gripping his voice. "You're… you're too precious to me to lose."

Zelda's eyes softened, and she wrapped her arms around him, cuddling against his shoulder. "Just as you are to me," she whispered. "I… I think I was wrong, before, when I said that this wouldn't be useful. If… if something like that Yiga attack on you were to happen again, well… this bond between us could certainly come in handy.

Link's heart squeezed. "Goddesses willing, we won't be separated like that again," he murmured, feeling his breath match hers. He kissed her forehead lightly, and his eyes drifted upwards. Please… grant us this mercy.


Updated 7/8