Heyo! It is time. Hopefully this makes up for last week :')

After their fight, Saval and Tessen didn't see each other for over two months.

Two months of waiting. Two months of planning what they would say, only to fall short every time. Two months of suffering with Silvas's court smiles and sharp words.

Saval watched herself walk onto the promenade on the fort's balustrade, her dress sweeping around her legs. Silvas had wanted her to wear the blue one, pale like the sky on a wintry day. The moment she'd seen it, she'd felt her chest tighten and eyes blur, against her every wish. It was the color of his eyes. And when she looked at Silvas, she knew he'd meant it that way.

It was hard to walk in it now, Saval could tell. She remembered this day, and the thought of what came next made it hard to breathe.

She watched herself cross over to the edge, knew she was barely listening to her mother's commander telling her about the old uses of the place. Saval was dressed in a guard's uniform, the best way she could think of to hide herself. She thought of running, just so she wouldn't see this, but stayed. I owe it, she thought. To myself, to him, to someone, I don't know. But I must stay and watch.

It made no sense to her. But she couldn't walk away. And when she watched her past self stare out over the wide fields, the Goddess Lakes glittering far out to the south in the sun, she found herself counting down the minutes, memories flitting through her mind.

She remembered this visit. Her mother had taken her to Western Hyrule for a visit to an ancient fortress. They stood in a tower, surrounded by a fortress the likes of which none of them had ever seen. Somehow it hadn't been claimed by Ganondorf in the war, the commander of the fortress said, by the Goddess' will, but it had certainly been used in the past.

Saval listened, the words echoing faintly in her mind. The tower had stood as the center of the ancient Princess Zelda's power, back during the first Alliance. It had been her base of operations, sitting directly across from her enemy's own tower--on the other side of the massive fields that stretched out before them, wide swathes of golden grasses and flowers before turning to the sands of the Gerudo Wasteland.

This was where the first few major battles had happened. After some prisoners of war had been reclaimed, the Alliance came together and launched a final attack on the enemy's tower. It was obliterated, the fortresses around it reduced to nothing but craters, which, after hundreds of years, turned into the Goddess Lakes.

"And after that, the Princess chased Ganondorf to Hyrule Field," the tour guide said to his audience.

"Where they fought to the death," Saval said under her breath, bracing herself.

"Midna! There you are!"

From the corner of her eyes, Saval saw her past self stiffen. Here we go.

A group emerged from the tower's interior, rather less rowdy than usual. Or maybe that was the absence of three other children. They'd been told to stay home this time, Saval remembered.

The two who did come were laughing, shoving each other and play-fighting, not having noticed who stared at them, stricken.

She hadn't been told they would be coming. Hadn't been told anything, concerning him.

And then she breathed a sigh of relief, a tiny one, because Silvas wasn't here. Ruins don't interest me, he'd said, with a smile that had Saval's insides twisting.

I know very well what interests you, she'd thought spitefully, keeping that hatred locked away deep inside. Instead she'd smiled, as she knew he wanted her to, and said, Very well then. I shall see you in a few days, my lord.

The thought of it, even now, made her tremble in anger. And now that Tessen knew . . . what would he do? Either of them?

She shook, both past and present, as the boys lifted their heads and met her gaze.

Hazen's smile was slower to fail. He glanced between them, fighting to keep it, but as Tessen met Saval's gaze and neither spoke a word, it became harder to pretend this was anything but a good time. He finally let his smile go, stepping back, instead joining his parents where they spoke to Midna. All four of them cast concerned glances at the two.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Tessen found it hard to meet Saval's gaze, and when his own drifted down to her dress, his eyes tightened. "How have you been?"

She was choked. Terrible, she wanted to say.

"I'm well. And you?"

Lies. The first she told him in this charade. Her body ached, her skin tingling with the memory of his bites, his hands gripping too hard, her ears ringing with threats. But she forced herself to not be stiff. It was easier to control herself now, in a twisted way. Silvas hated it when she was stiff.

Tessen nodded, his throat bobbing. "I'm glad," he whispered, and that, at least, Saval knew was the truth. He'd always wanted her to be happy.

It was painfully awkward. And everyone felt it, down to the last guard on the wall. They'd backed up to give the nobles privacy, but Saval remembered seeing them from the corner of her eyes, seeing how they shifted, in that way uncomfortable people did.

It was why the walkway was now empty except for them. Their parents had left them behind.

She watched her past self chew her lip, and knew she was working up the courage to say something. It never made it past her lips though, because at that moment Tessen took a step, walked up to her . . . and then past her, to the edge of the parapet.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? Hard to believe it used to be a battlefield."

Saval tightened her grip on the spear she held. She knew she was confused by the way she wavered, that dress flowing around her ankles in the warm summer wind. She knew she was wondering: was he really going to just . . . be himself? Ignore what happened between them? Ignore the two months of no contact and simply talk about history, the way he always did?

But what she hadn't realized immediately was that this was his way of trying. He was trying to get it back to normal, trying to alleviate the tension. And Saval watched herself blink once, twice, and then join him, leaning her elbows on the ancient, weathered stone.

"Nature has a way of returning to normal," was all she could manage, and caught his smile.

He took her hand, looking out over the wide plains. They were dotted with blankets of flowers over the bright green grass, the three largest craters glittering under the sun. Other, smaller craters had formed little pools, where the wildlife drank and lived. It was warm today, a beautiful summer afternoon, and if she really squinted, Saval knew she'd see herds of deer here and there, copses of trees waving, whispering, in the cool breeze.

"That she does," Tessen said softly, entwining his fingers with hers. "Then what about us?"

At the surprised look on her face, he elaborated. "I always thought we were natural. You, me, and Hazen. All of us. We're a group. We're friends." He looked at her then. "So when do we return to normal?"

Her back was to Saval's present self, but she knew her mouth was open, tears brimming in her wide eyes. She knew that Tessen held her hand tighter as he said quietly, "I'm sorry, Saval. I shouldn't have said what I said, back then."

She was choked, again, this time because his apology was not what she wanted. She should have been the one apologizing.

"Not as sorry as me," she croaked, and suddenly the weight of Silvas's ring pressed into her chest with a pressure of its own. She fought to speak past it. "I--I wasn't fair to you. Please, it's my fault."

"Well, if you say so," Tessen said, nonchalantly.

Her head whipped to look at him, and he took one glance before snorting at her expression. "Are we fine now?"

Saval scoffed, disbelieving, and then shook her head. "You're so stupid. Yes, we're fine. Goddesses."

Amazing. Amazing how he did that. Just a smile was enough to send the pressure back, beat away the memory of him.

"Hey now, they've got nothing to do with this," Tessen said, grinning. He pulled her closer, and as he did, a guard tapped Saval on the shoulder. "Hey, it's time to switch."

Goddesses. Saval nodded wordlessly and stepped away, back into the depths of the tower. She barely made it in before the tears fell, slumping against the wall, and she covered her mouth with a hand. That was it--that was the first time she truly realized how much of a mistake she had made. His eyes, so blue, so him. His hands, so warm.

It was the moment she'd realized she was in love with Tessen.

He landed in cold grass.

It was still light out, but the sun was past its zenith. Hazen stared up into the sky, not seeing it. Not feeling the soft grass under his body, or the hilt of his sword in his hand.

No, he felt rough stone beneath him and snow chilling him. He heard not birdcall and the wind but screams and crack of bone. And he saw . . . he saw . . .

Tears scalded his eyes, doing nothing to blur the images. He saw his mother being choked, his father begging her, the flash of gold and steel.

He shut out the images, but they persisted behind his eyelids. So he took a deep breath, and then another, and another, he clenched the grass beneath him and squeezed the hilt of his sword, he strained his eyes and ears until that battle was gone.

Slowly, he sat up, swallowing against a dry throat. He almost couldn't believe what he'd seen. He shook his head, but inside, he knew it was the truth. It was real.

And they'd lied to him.

Why, he wanted to ask? Why would they keep that from him? And how? How could his mother still be alive if she--if she was--

A terrible thought entered his mind, and it was all he could do not to scream. Even so, a sob slipped out, and he buried his face in his hands. That couldn't be it, he told himself. It wasn't. Besides, how would they have found a woman who looked exactly like his mother, down to the last eyelash? And his father--Link would never have accepted another woman, ever. It simply couldn't be. There was some other explanation for it, some other way to explain how his mother was still alive.

Thinking had always helped calm Hazen down. He sat up in the grass, his mind whirling. Perhaps she had simply recovered from the injury? He didn't know if Link had--if he'd aimed for the--

Hazen took another very deep breath. Regardless, it was possible that she could have been healed. But healers were few and far between in Hyrule, so by means of magic, it shouldn't have been very likely. But then--

Horses. Hoofbeats. Hazen threw himself down into the grass, hoping they hadn't seen him yet. They came closer, what sounded like a lot of them. What were they doing out here? Was it a scouting party?

He gasped. Had he landed home? Was it possible--were they looking for him?

Every muscle in his body wanted him to leap up and shout for their attention. But lingering fear and restraint held him back. There was no guarantee he'd landed in his Hyrule. It could be mounted bokoblins for all he knew, and he'd be torn apart if he showed himself. Or he could be in the middle of a battle . . . though it didn't sound like it.

The horses came closer, got louder, and then they began to fade. Hazen's heart slammed against his chest, his muscles burning with the desire to see something, and finally he broke.

He peeked through the tips of the grass, looking for the sound of hoofbeats, and found them--

--riding away.

He hesitated a moment, then rose up onto his elbows. They seemed to be heading towards the middle of the field, where a large stone monument--

Oh.

Oh.

He was home! Hazen leapt up, throwing his fists up. "Haha! Finally!"

He grabbed his sword and began heading toward the monument, but something stopped him. He couldn't describe it anymore than he could describe what the sun looked like up close, but somehow he knew . . . he shouldn't go over there.

His steps slowed, his head cocked toward that monument. He knew what it was, knew exactly what it was. But he couldn't shake this feeling. Like . . . like he was intruding. Like he shouldn't be there at all.

He debated it for a while, and ultimately decided to sit down and wait. At least until they left. Then he'd go and have a look. Surely then it would be all right.

It was only when night fell that Hazen stood up. He hadn't heard anything from the monument's direction in a while, and it looked like they'd all gone to sleep. Standing, he drew his sword, just in case, and headed over.

He knew before he stepped into the circle who they all were. He'd met them all enough times, but even without that, he'd know them easily.

Saria and Ruto slept close together, and the mountain that was Darunia snored loudly beside his wife. Hazen didn't know at what point in the timeline this visit was--it could be when he was only a year younger than he was now, or before he was born. But as he turned and saw his parents sleeping together, he knew, suddenly, exactly when he was.

Before his time, then. His mother's face was the same as it was in his time, but somehow, here, it was . . . younger. Young in a way he'd never seen it, not in person. She looked the way she did in old newspaper clippings, smiling with a crown on her head, and no Link beside her, as he was now.

His arm wrapped around her stomach, and as Hazen watched, her brows creased, and a whimper escaped her lips. Her face began to crumple, her legs and arms twitching, and she turned her head to the side, into Link's chest. A tear slipped from her closed eye, tracking slowly down her face and into her hair.

"Mipha," she whispered. Her voice cracked.

And her eyes opened.

Hazen froze, suddenly fearful and unable to explain why. He didn't move, not as Zelda rubbed her eyes dry and sat up. She cast a glance up to the moon, and gripped Link's shoulder. She shook him, and when his eyes opened, Hazen braced himself. Surely he would notice him, right? A stranger to them, in the middle of their gathering--there was no way he couldn't see him--

Link got to his feet, stretching, and pulled Zelda up as well. Hazen stared, dumbfounded, as they both walked right past him, not sparing him a glance, to wake the others. Slowly they all came to their feet, grumbling lightly and murmuring softly in the night.

Can--can they . . . see me? Hazen thought, watching them. He guessed not. Not one of them paid him any mind, and as they approached the monument, it was then that he saw what was in their hands.

Some, his parents included, held wrapped packages. They were bulky, hard to handle, but that didn't stop Zelda from approaching the stone slab, hewn of black and gray granite, polished to a shine, or from kneeling at the four smaller stones at its base.

At the first, she unwrapped a sword and shield. Hazen recognized it with a punch to the gut. He'd seen it once before, after all. In another time.

The Scimitar of the Seven and the Daybreaker shield. They shone like the day they'd been forged. Zelda set the blade into the dirt, laid the shield against the stone's face, carved with a name in the ancient Gerudo language. Hazen stepped closer to read it.

Urbosa. Finest warrior, honored sacrifice, beloved family.

Sacrifice?

Zelda seemed to want to say something, her mouth opening and closing a few times, but nothing came out. She swallowed and stood, her cheeks glittering with liquid steel. "Sav'orq," she whispered.

She turned, allowing Hazen a view of her face. It took his breath away.

The pain . . . so pure and fresh . . . she looked as if she'd seen Urbosa die all over again. She walked past him, taking up a place behind the group, and simply watched. Hazen felt like he couldn't look away, but then there was Link, a wide, bulky package in hand.

He knelt and unwrapped it, and then laid a beautiful bow along the second stone's side. At the foot, he placed a quiver filled with arrows. The breath his father took was shaky, but like Zelda, he didn't speak.

He backed away, and replacing him was Ruto. She carried a long spear, shining like quicksilver and adorned with rubies and emeralds, laying it along the bottom of the third stone. She swallowed hard, her eyes searching the stone as if she could see her lost sister within it, and slowly stood, unable to hold her head high.

One by one they each came up. As Ruto backed away, her face streaked with quicksilver, Darunia knelt surprisingly gently at the last stone and laid a massive weapon at its foot. The Boulder Breaker.

He backed away, the last of them, and placed a hand on Ruto's back. The motion seemed to be her undoing--and as she fell to her knees with a cry, it was like a signal to the others.

Link collapsed at his stone, whispering to it, his shoulders shaking. Zelda covered her face with her hands, muffling her cries, but they slipped through, agonizing, filled with pain Hazen had never in his life felt. From where Saria stood, she simply cried, staring at her friends--at Zelda in particular. She closed her eyes, her jaw locking, and cursed under her breath, so quiet Hazen barely caught it.

"Damn him."

Hazen felt like he couldn't breathe. He looked from one to another, his face wetting with every blink, and came to the same conclusion as Saria. Damn him.

Damn Ganondorf, for doing this. For taking away these people--people Hazen had never even met, but whose absence he felt keenly, had always felt so blatantly. And only now did he truly understand why.

Their deaths had torn a hole in those around him--in his parents, in their friends, their family. They'd left a space that could never be filled, no matter what. They would never know how it felt to be whole again, to have that emptiness inside filled so completely, not in the way the dead had done.

Not in the way Mipha, Urbosa, Revali and Daruk had done, and all the others.

Hazen felt like he should have realized sooner--like he should have seen this before now. This heartbreak. It was so painfully obvious, the answer. Why the war was still so relevant. It was here--the heart of the war . . . was all right here.

And as long as they were alive . . . they would never escape it.

It was enough to send Hazen to his knees with them.

Hours later, they'd fallen asleep.

Hazen still knelt, staring at the monument. At the thousands of names carved painstakingly into the granite slab, the four smaller stones that held so much more meaning. He'd been thinking this whole time. About what to do. How to go on. What everything meant.

He understood now. More than the war, more than his confusion or irritation over it. He knew why he was here now, why he was forced to see these things, things he wished he'd never seen, but knew he needed to.

Now that he had his answer, the one that damned Majora had sent him on the worst wild goose chase of his life to find, he knew what he had to do.

"Take me back," he muttered, looking up at the dark night sky. The stars twinkled, and he imagined one of them was Majora, grinning down at him from above. "Take me back, and I'll show you exactly what fear means."

A dark laugh echoed, and all around Hazen everything turned black and white, bleached completely of color. He turned, and in front of him, a splash of color came closer. Spinning slowly, until it rested just a few feet away.

Hazen stared into Majora's eyes, not bothering to raise his sword. Majora didn't move, even as the ground around began to tremble, the leaves of grass shaking without a wind to stir them.

Majora didn't speak, and yet Hazen heard its voice in his head.

As you wish.

"Empress! We've found something!"

Irene hurriedly drank the water offered to her and darted after Zelda. Link joined their group as they swept through the halls, already speaking. "They found a second journal in his room. I don't know how we missed it, but it seems to be written in code, they can't make any sense of it--"

"I have a translation spell," Irene cut in, turning a corner down a long corridor teeming with guards. "I can try to see if it breaks the code."

"We'll keep you close by, then," Link said, and darted into the room behind Zelda.

The first thing was that the room was huge, though that seemed to be a common thing in the palace. Everything was covered in plastic, as if it had been abandoned for some time. Though there was no dust, and it seemed to be a hive of activity now, it had an air of . . . emptiness. And there was something else, too, that Irene couldn't name. It felt wrong, dark, somehow. It reminded her of--

"Irene!"

Zelda's voice was sharp. Irene jerked and ran into the room across from the door. "I'm here!"

She stopped short, staring around the room. It wasn't as big as the one behind her, but it definitely had a worse air to it. Something was done here, something not right. She couldn't stand the way it felt on her skin.

Her arm brushed against one of the tables, and she hissed, jerking away. She met Zelda's sharp blue gaze. "You feel something?"

Irene swallowed. "This room feels wrong," she said, her voice unintentionally quiet. Zelda nodded, mouth tight, and turned to Link. "Where is it?"

"In here." He brought them to a desk in the back, where a second journal laid open among dozens of--

"What are these?" Zelda whispered, lifting one of them. They were scrawled in black charcoal, messy and unintelligible. Irene came to her side, looking through them as Link handed the empress the journal.

"Do you have the spell ready?" Link asked. Irene nodded, lifting her hands. They began glowing a pale green, and the book did so as well. Irene concentrated, staring at the words. They were more slashes and blocks, unintelligible, garbled. She couldn't tell what language it was, but for some reason they seemed familiar. Had she seen them somewhere?

Sweat dripped down her neck, and she took a breath, refocusing. Slowly they began to move on the page, rearranging until they read in the Hylian tongue.

"It's done," Irene said, lowering her hands. She wiped her brow as Zelda laid a hand on her shoulder. "Well done," Link said, nodding.

Irene nodded in response and turned to Zelda. "What does it say?"

Zelda stared at the journal, trepidation fluttering in her eyes, before taking a deep breath. Link watched her, blue eyes bright, and brushed the hair from his wife's face. "It's all right," he murmured. She nodded faintly, then again, stronger.

She lifted the journal to the light provided and began to read.

"'My contact has spoken to me once more. It is amazing, the things it knows. Things I could never have imagined on my own. It gives me so many ideas, so many ways to use my Triforce. I know I could not have gotten this far without its help.'"

Zelda flipped a page. "'It is like a god, my contact. A god of destruction, bent on darkness and filled with it. It never fails to keep me focused on the task, however, when I stray.'"

"This one is from a month later," Zelda said, for the others' sakes. "'It refuses to speak to me yet again. I suspect it is angry with me, for letting that fool hero in here. It raved about the goal, the bigger mission at hand. I suspect there is something else at work, however. Its anger seems to be unnaturally targeted towards the hero. It hardly paid that idiotic princess any mind--'"

Zelda flared up suddenly, glowing with a bright golden light. She snarled through her teeth before calming herself, the glow fading. "Idiotic princess, am I? Remind me, who's dead between the two of us?" she muttered.

Link snorted.

Irene continued to paw through the drawings as Zelda read. "'It pays that princess no mind. No, its focus is solely on the hero. I suspect it wants me to destroy him first, but I have my own plans for the boy. For now, though, I shall play along to my contact's whims.'"

"A month later again. 'I have attempted to draw my contact. Sometimes, when we speak, I am filled with an urge to see it, and so my hands draw of their own accord. Most times they end up in garbled scrawls. I cannot tell if I lack the skills, or because I simply do not do it justice. It is infuriating, not knowing what is giving me orders. It has not led me astray, though, so I shall--"

A gasp and a chair falling over made Zelda turn. Irene had backed up into a chair, which now lay on its side, and she was staring at the drawings. At one in particular. Her eyes were wide, her chest heaving. Her skin had paled.

Zelda took her arms, shushing her when she started. "Irene, she said quietly. "What is it?"

Irene struggled to speak for a moment. She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and slowly straightened. With a shaking hand, she pointed to the drawing before her, set apart from the others.

That was why. Why that language looked so strangely familiar, why she felt so afraid, why she hated this room all of a sudden--it was--

"It's him," she whispered. Her fingers brushed the drawing, shaking over the spikes and shaded eyes, and a tear fell down her face. "It's him."

Dread began to pool in Zelda's gut. Behind her, Link came closer to see the drawing. She could almost hear the blood drain from his face. "Goddesses, no."

Irene lifted her hand, meeting Zelda's gaze. The empress's face was hard, trembling, like marble about to crack.

"It's Majora," Irene said.

Irene sat in her room, staring out the window. Below, the soldiers were moving, calling out and gathering horses. They were going out. She imagined if she strained enough, she'd be able to hear Zelda throwing out orders, her voice curt and carrying an expectation to be obeyed, and quickly.

The soldiers moved faster.

Irene's brows came together slightly, watching the empress stand in the middle of it, her eyes turned toward the west. It's Majora.

She'd gone so still Irene had thought she'd stopped breathing. Every soldier in that awful room had gone totally silent, and even Link had cursed so softly, so foully, that Irene was actually afraid.

And then Zelda had let out a breath so gentle it was almost a wisp of air, a last breath before death, and she'd turned from the table, and the drawings.

"Tell the commander to move out," she'd said. The soldier she spoke to had opened his eyes, filled with a fire that took Irene aback.

"Where are we heading, Your Majesty?"

Zelda had answered, her eyes like flaming sapphire, staring off as if she could see her destination through the palace walls.

"The Dragmire Estate."

Irene breathed in deep, closing her eyes for a moment. She'd heard enough from Hazen to put two and two together. It was clear now what exactly Zelda meant to do.

He took so much from her, Hazen had said, his eyes, so like his mother's, gazing into Stone Tower's black pit. Even when he was dead and gone, he kept taking and taking and taking. I think she wonders if it'll ever stop.

Hazen. Irene swallowed, twisting the cuff of her shirt. Zelda had given her the complete wardrobe Alana had drawn up from that first meeting. Most of it was simple fare, exactly what Irene liked, but she had yet to receive a replacement robe, since her old one was beyond repair. Apparently.

She wondered what Hazen would think of all this. She'd been here nearly a week, and had spent every moment trying to find some way to activate the Doors. They were unresponsive, no matter what they tried. Even the Triforce had no effect on it. Irene wondered if Hazen would know what to do. He always had an answer for everything, after all.

Maybe they'd broken it. The thought filled her with such fear that she had to put it down and just breathe. Hazen would never allow that thought to cross his mind--in that, he and his mother were frighteningly similar.

Her lips twitched up at the corners. He'd said her hands were meant for healing, and here she was, fretting she'd broken something. She allowed a small smile, twisting that cuff, thinking he'd be the first to try and get the group's spirits up.

"What are you smiling at?"

Irene jumped, looking around. Her gaze landed on a short blonde boy with sharp blue eyes, and for a moment Irene had to push down the first name that rose up.

She swallowed. "Dinsel. Sorry, um--"

"Were you thinking about my brother?"

Yes. "No?" she tried, but Dinsel wasn't buying it.

"Yes you were," he shrugged, turning to the side. "You had that look that all the girls at court get whenever they see him. It's weird."

Her brow twitched. "Oh, do excuse me."

Dinsel whirled away, but he couldn't quite hide the smile he wore. When he turned back, though, the somber expression he wore was enough to tell Irene where his thoughts had gone.

"Are you . . . are you sure he's okay?"

Irene swallowed. She turned to face him. "If anyone would come back, he would. And Tessen and Saval, too."

"He would, right?" Dinsel asked, looking up at her. His eyes were bright. "He always acts so tough, so . . . it has to be real, right? He wouldn't lie . . ."

His face began to crumple, and Irene wildly grasped for something to stave it off. "Uh--I--have you ever seen him fight?"

Dinsel sniffed, meeting her eyes. "No. He always says I'm too young for that."

"Well, he's really good at it. Even better than Tessen."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Irene said softly, trying for a smile. "He's the best fighter out of all of us. He always acts tough with us, too. So believe him, and believe me," she said softly, leaning down slightly, "when I say he's going to be okay."

For a moment she doubted it had worked. Dinsel's face barely changed, and he shifted on his feet. But then he turned to her, and upon seeing her smile, his face twitched into one of his own. Faint, but it was there.

He pulled himself up to the couch and looked at her so directly she had to stifle a laugh. From what Hazen had told her, Dinsel would hate to be compared to his older brother, but he was almost a spitting image of Hazen.

"Did he ever save you?"

Irene blinked. "I--yes," she said, lips pulling into a smile. "He did, many times."

"How?" he scooted forward, his eyes lighting. "How many times? What did he do?"

A laugh bubbled up, but she didn't want him to think she was laughing at him, so she swallowed it down. "Well, there was the time the village was on fire. He found me and pulled me through to get to safety."

"Why was the village on fire?"

"Uhh," Irene stalled. "It was, um, somebody left an open flame unattended." She hoped he couldn't detect the lie.

Dinsel was oblivious. Technically it's not really a lie, Irene thought. Majora does use a lot of fire.

Dinsel begged for another tale, and she indulged him, strangely grateful for him. He took her mind off the thoughts inside, and he reminded her of a more childish version of Hazen. She wondered, as she told him of the time they spent in Wild's home, if Hazen had been this excitable as a child. They whiled away the hours, and as Irene began another story, she was distracted by a sound.

Somewhere in the distance, an explosion sounded, and Irene jumped, looking out the window. What the hell was that?

Out in the west, no more than fifty miles, a cloud of dust rose up into the sky, a plume of fire and smoke following in its wake. The shockwave spread outward, racing towards the castle until it slammed against the glass windows by Irene's face, little bits of dust and debris clattering against the glass.

Irene stared out the windows, something like faint dread coiling in her stomach, until Dinsel pulled on her arm, bringing her back to the story.

"So . . . then another time, we were being chased by, uh, b-bomb rats," Irene continued, watching as Dinsel's face lit up. She shoved whatever that explosion had been to the back of her mind. "And he pushed me out of the way before they blew up."

"Did he get hurt?"

"Yes," Irene said hesitantly, wondering if this would send him into another fit. He simply looked interested, though, so Irene said, "But it didn't last long after I healed him."

"You can heal?" Dinsel crowed, leaning forward. "Can you show me?"

"I--" Irene stammered as Dinsel yanked up his sleeve, showing a huge dark bruise, coloring his entire arm. "I fell down in the courtyard," he said by way of explanation, to Irene's stricken face.

"I find that highly difficult to believe," Irene muttered, taking his arm gently. Hazen had told her of his brothers' antics. Like shooting fake arrows at the guards, taping ambassadors' rears to their chairs, and making all the weapons in the armory fall over.

It's a miracle they haven't gotten seriously injured yet, Irene had said, and Hazen had laughed. Oh, they have. Nothing really major, but it's still terrifying for everyone involved. But they just run away to the infirmary so our parents can't see them. Zelda and Link find out anyway, since Purah and Robbie report to them daily.

Irene had snorted. She held one back now as her hands began to glow, encasing Dinsel's arm in pale white light. His face reflected the glow, his blue eyes shining just a little brighter. His mouth opened in a cute O, and as Irene took her hands away, he lifted his arm, the skin as unblemished as the day he was born.

"How'd you do that?" he demanded, smiling widely.

Irene opened her mouth, but a voice said from the door, "White magic."

They both turned to see Link in the doorway. "Come on, you," he said to Dinsel, who groaned theatrically. "It's time for your class."

Dinsel sighed, sliding off the couch, leaving Irene sitting alone. She weirdly missed his presence, distracting as it had been. Link watched his son leave, safe in the arms of that white-haired handmaiden, and then came further into the room. He held some books under his arm, and as he came to the couch, he held them out to Irene.

"We finally found something," he said, as Irene reached for the book on top. "Hyrule's Long History of Magic," she said.

Link chuckled at her flat voice. "After that explosion in the receiving room, we had to find out exactly what we were dealing with."

Irene set the book down. "And what did you find?"

His eyes stared into hers, suddenly and without apology. "White witches aren't just myths, after all."

Irene shifted uncomfortably and didn't answer.

Link sighed. "We don't want you to feel unwelcome, Irene. We just want to know if you can help."

"I have been helping," Irene said, almost snapping. "I tried to get the damned Doors to open, but they won't respond to my magic."

That was the worst part, she thought. Zelda had brought her to the Sacred Grove where Tessen, Saval and Hazen had disappeared over three months ago. All the Sages had been there, but even with both Zelda and Link's Triforces, the sages' powers, and Irene's magic, the Doors just refused to work.

Everyone had a different reason for why. No one could agree. And after what they'd found today, Irene knew that all of them were wrong. There was something interfering with their efforts.

Majora.

Irene looked back out the window. The dust cloud was gone now, but somehow she knew it wasn't over. Link followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing.

"The Dragmire Estate," he muttered, and Irene blinked at the hatred in his voice. "We should have destroyed it years ago."

"What was it?"

"The place Ganondorf kept his monsters, at least until he unleashed them on us," he answered. "And now we know he was working with Majora the whole time."

He sighed, scrubbing his face, and for the first time, it was abruptly clear they were struggling with something other than Majora.

She felt curiosity creep up. "How could Majora and Ganondorf have been in contact? From what you and Hazen have told me, there was something about separate timelines?"

Link nodded. "It's news to us, as well. We had to dig pretty deep to find where the timeline split, but Zelda and I had help."

He smiled slightly, like his words were a secret between the two of them.

"As far as we understand it, when the Hero of Time fought Ganondorf, there was a major split. Whether he won or lost, the timeline split into three separate ones. Hyrule's history, as a result, separated as well. At some point, those three timelines converged again. That's what we don't know. How, why, or when. But after that happened, Termina suddenly appeared, along with the other lands. There was a lot of shifting land at that time, as the historians recorded it."

Something wasn't sitting right with Irene. "But how could that happen? Timelines shouldn't just . . . come back together like that. It's impossible . . . right?"

She met Link's gaze, and he was about to speak when his eyes suddenly glazed over. Irene blinked. "Link?"

She waved her hand in front of his face, nearly jumping out of her skin when Zelda's voice sounded.

"He's fine. Lost in thought, that's all."

Irene found her standing against the wall. She came forward, sitting on the couch. She looked tired, down to her bones. "Are you . . ." Irene started, raising her hand. "Are you all right?"

Zelda smiled faintly. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

Right, Irene thought, doubtfully.

Suddenly, Link sighed deeply. "I don't know about that," he said, looking at his wife. She rolled her eyes.

"Can I go to the library, please?" Irene asked suddenly. Her mind was turning faster even as she stood, thoughts racing through she could barely make sense of them before they flitted away. She needed more information.

Zelda and Link stared at her, surprised, and then looked at each other. "I--I suppose," Zelda said. "Have you thought of something?"

"Maybe," Irene muttered.

*in the tune of Simon and Garfunkel* hello, cliffhanger my old friend~

So like, I actually forgot to reply to the reviews from last two chapters LMAO. Whoops. I'll do it here.

To StJames1: mmm character development getting THPITHY lmfao and Irene made a booboo. Issall right though.

All that's left is the Dad Showdown(TM). Also BIG OOF Hazen is...not okay. But I mean, at least he's getting answers? Right?? Haha. (Yeah it's not really a fair trade huh.)

And AY I actually didn't even consider that lmao. Perhaps Shithead Extreme will get his due under the watchful eye of Tessen and Dark...lol. Not to mention Midna... Yeah he's fucked. I can't wait.

Also side note, it's Empire canon that all the kids are adored by literally everyone, especially the other parents. So like, prepare for the second war of Zelda's lifetime LOL. Or is it the third? Mhmhmhmhm. ~

To Queen Emily the Diligent: OOF THEY WERE ALMOST THERE. The Doors are really fuckin shit up huh? Teehee! *snorts like an evil gremlin with Plans(TM) MUAHAHA*