Author's Notes:

While I stick very closely to the HTTYD movie/TV show lore, I take liberties with the LoZ elements. Please read with an open mind, as if this were a new game.

New chapters on Wednesdays. The whole thing, 30 chapters plus Prologue, is written and will be posted!


The afternoon sun beat down on the Tanelope Shrine. Heat rippled from the sand as Impa swished her wooden rod through the air. Stepping through the forms she had mastered years ago, the balance of tension and relaxation focused her.

Advance three steps, parry, deflect. A little more to the left. Kogah's voice was as clear as if they were speaking face-to-face. She shrugged off the memory and continued.

Left shoulder, right shoulder, left leg, duck. His voice echoed in her mind. Impa, I implore you. The path you're on is doomed. Doomed? How could he say that? If he really thought— She was losing focus again. She shook her head, pushing his voice out of her mind, and transitioned to the more aggressive Djem So Form.

Step forward, slice to the head, turn, hook kick—

Please, don't make me do this.

She stopped short. That sincerity, the heartfelt tenderness bade her pause. Though it was Kogah who had begged her last night, she could have said the same. Even behind the pale Yiga masks, she recognized each of her attackers: Hama's classic parry-thrust combination, Shago favoring his right side. She wondered if Hayo's knee had already been mended or if she was still hobbling after her tumble into the ravine. Oh, Hayo; she really had the worst luck with leg injuries. Pakh—

Her throat tightened. She hadn't meant to kill him. She didn't want to kill any of them. Her hands trembled, and acid burned in her stomach. She had hacked them down like wheat. Like bulblins. Like … enemies. That's what they were now.

Impa jumped back into the form with renewed vigor. Blood pumped in her ears as she sliced faster through the air. Stab to the abdomen, slice to the left, duck, cut to the head. No matter what any of them wanted, or said they wanted, they were now on opposite sides. He— they had made their choice.

So why was she so shaken?

The boy hobbling out of the workshop diverted her dark ruminations. "Will that hold?" she asked flatly.

"Maybe for a few hours," Hiccup said, looking down at the makeshift wooden pegleg. It was barely more than a shaved down cone.

"Good."

Hiccup didn't like the way it fit. Besides lacking the spring feature that made walking feel almost natural, this new prosthetic pinched and—

"Ow!" he stumbled back, holding his forehead where the wooden rod had struck him. It clattered at his feet.

"Fight me!" Impa called out.

Hiccup glanced up just in time to see her leap at him, wielding her own wooden rod. He ducked out of the way and then was smacked in the head again. The Shiekah kicked up the rod she had thrown and tossed it to him. Hiccup caught it in one hand; the other massaged his stinging temple.

"Fight!" she shouted.

She swung at him from above. He raised his rod. Blocked it. His heart raced with exhilaration at hearing the satisfying click of their wooden weapons. He pushed back against her then lost his breath from a strike to the stomach followed by a blow on his back. He stumbled back, wheezing.

"At least try," Impa said, rolling her eyes.

Hiccup groaned and straightened up. Gripping the rod with both hands, he ran towards her. He swung at her head. She ducked, angling to his side. He pivoted to follow, but the peg leg wobbled, sending him falling on his back. His head smacked the ground.

Dazed, he squinted upward. A shadow passed overhead; it was Impa. He rolled to the side just in time as sand flew where her rod struck the ground. He kept his weapon in front of him, but within a few strikes it was knocked from his hand.

"I yield, I yield!" he pleaded, throwing his hands up to keep the final strike from hitting him.

The sun silhouetted her figure as he squinted up. "Get up," she ordered. He promptly obeyed. "How can you expect to protect others if you can't even protect yourself?" she snapped.

"If you could go just a little slower—"

"The enemy will not go slower. You need to focus," Her voice boiled with frustration. "Stronger men have lost to that Usurper."

"You mean the Yiga?" Her eyes flashed. "I'm sorry," he said, "I just assumed because you have the same symbol."

She closed her eyes. A sigh hissed through her nose. "They were Sheikah."

"What happened?"

A dark expression crossed her face. "They were weak." She tossed him the staff. "Again."

/

Zelda knocked on the doorway of the alcove. It appeared to be a small apartment complete with a dresser and window. Link sat on the edge of the bed. The Master Sword lay across his lap.

He didn't look up when he spoke. "I used to think this meant something."

She sighed and sat on the bed next to him. "We all lost that day," she said.

"But it wasn't because of you!" His eyes squeezed shut as he scrunched the covers. "If I hadn't been afraid …"

Even though his voice had dropped a register since she'd last seen him, she recognized the crack in his voice: he wanted to say more but didn't.

She took his hand. "You have courage enough. That's why you were chosen."

"And he was chosen for his power?" Zelda followed his gaze out the window. The gangly, one-legged boy held a staff in front of his face as the Sheikah warrior bore down on him. Within a few strikes, he was disarmed.

Link sighed. "If he's a mistake—"

"Impa is hurt," Zelda interrupted. "That doesn't mean that she's right."

"She might be." He met her gaze. The disbelief in her eyes was only matched by the despair in his own. "You haven't seen what's become of Hyrule. How could they let this happen?" But she heard what he meant: How could I let this happen?

The Triforce of Wisdom glowed as Zelda took the sword and placed it on the nightstand. She pulled him in, wrapping her fair arms around the weathered tunic. She felt him tremble. Then slowly, he wrapped his arms around her. He was finally here in her arms. How she had longed to comfort him these long years, out there on his own. From whatever magical plane she had existed in, she watched him struggle and grow from the cocky boy to the weathered young man he was today, the hero she dreamed he could be all those years ago.

She stroked his head as her shoulder warmed with tears. "It's alright to mourn what is lost. But to mourn without hope is to let the enemy win."

"He's already won. Look at us."

"I am." She pulled back and held him at arm's length. Tears slid down his downcast face. Lifting his chin, Link's eyes met hers. "Your heart is true," she said. He caught his breath. The barest hint of a smile disappeared as his eyes flicked toward the window.

"I already failed once."

She took his hand. "He wasn't sent to replace you." Link stiffened. "You still have a calling on your life. You will defeat Ganon"—she placed the sword in his hand—"but you don't have to do it alone." His eyes glistened as they met her smile. He coughed, his own smile emerging. "There's my courageous hero," she said.

He dropped to one knee, eyes on the floor. "And what would my lady have me do?"

She took his hand and raised him to his feet. "Be the hero you already are." Dusting off his shoulder, she continued, "And that starts with your uniform. Why did you take it off?"

"It was safer not to wear it."

"Well, Ganon knows you're coming. No use in hiding now." He rose to exit, a little too quickly, she noted. "Link." He paused with his hand on the doorway. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

His breath went shallow, and it seemed like he braced himself against the door.

Let me help you, she pleaded.

He gave the slightest shake of his head and then was gone.

/

A sand stuffed burlap bag was skewered on a rough pole. The center, marked with an "X", was dotted with smudges of fresh blood. Next to it, a tree trunk thick as a man's waist showed signs of slashing damage, though not enough to cause it any structural integrity.

A few feet away, Hiccup fell on his back. This new set of drills for hand-to-hand combat was almost as punishing as the weapons training. Instead of getting whacked to the ground with a stick, now he was just getting thrown on the ground. The result was the same: more pain. Impa explained this training was best against opponents that were larger than him. Since they were the same height, he didn't think it would be too difficult. He'd thought wrong.

The merciless sun wasn't helping either. Several large, stone jars in the shrine's basement each had enough water to fill a bathing barrel, but they must have been contaminated. The one drink Impa allowed him to have sucked every bit of moisture from his mouth and made his lips stick to his teeth. Link had said the princess could do something about the fountain. Maybe he had been as desperate for water as Hiccup.

Every muscle ached. His head was pounding. Between the dizziness and the pegleg, he could barely keep his balance, and his knuckles were completely raw from hitting that dumb bag over and over again.

He groaned as a shadow passed overhead. "I know. I'm getting up."

"Need a hand?"

That wasn't Impa's voice. Hiccup squinted into the sun and saw the princess standing over him. Between drills he had noticed her by the fountain, arms raised and saying something to soft to hear.

He sat up. Impa waited arms crossed by the burlap bag. The sword he'd been "attacking" the tree trunk with lay at her feet. Glanced up at the princess, he mumbled, "I'm sorry. I don't know how I thought I could help, but it's not this. I'm a planner, a peacemaker. I'm not a fighter."

"A bird may have the loveliest voice. Does that mean it should not also dance in the sky?"

"What if it has a broken wing?"

She knelt next to him in the hot sand. "There is a story of a Lynel. Do you know what that is?"

"I have a good idea" Hiccup confessed, remembering the giant hoof prints Link had pointed out on their way up the mountain.

"When the Lynel was very young, it was captured by men who kept it chained. Night after night it tried to break free, but the chain was always too thick. After many years, it gave up trying to escape so that it didn't even need to be restrained. Even after growing three times taller than the men and many times their strength, it would back down at the mere jingle of the chain."

Hiccup idly traced his finger in the sand. "I get what you're saying, but I'm— I'm not strong. I can't do this."

Her kind eyes turned serious. "Be careful of your words, for they are powerful."

She retrieved the sword and motioned for him to follow. With a groan, he obliged. Molding his hands around the hilt, she said, "I want you to repeat after me: 'I am strong.'"

"I … But, princess, I'm not—"

"Just say it." Her voice was gentle but firm.

Hiccup contained an eye roll. "I'm strong." It felt fake.

In his mind, he saw himself, tiny, scrawny, unable to even lift the sword in his hands. Towering over him, overshadowing him, was Snotlout. That wasn't fair of his subconscious. Hiccup knew Snotlout cared, even if he didn't act like it most of the time.

Snotlout put his hands on his hips, leaned into to Hiccup's face, and sneered, "You're going to be the next chief? You can't even beat me!" Hiccup scowled; that much, at least, was accurate.

"Louder," the princess commanded.

Hiccup grumbled, "I'm strong." Snotlout threw his head back and let out a rolling laugh.

"Louder!"

"I'm strong!" he shouted.

"Swing!"

With that, Hiccup sliced towards the tree stump. The top half shifted down an inch, and then toppled at Hiccup's feet. Impa raised an eyebrow. Hiccup let the sword clatter on the ground, speechless.

The princess placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's time to let go of the past."

Hiccup was so excited he went to grab the sword for another drill, but just then, everything went dark.

A moment later, he felt hot sand digging into the side of his face. Someone turned him over and asked something. He tried to reply, but his lips refused to move.

The next few minutes blurred together. Eventually, his mind cleared as water ran down his face. The heat emanating from without and within lessened. Someone gave him something to drink. Water trickled down his throat until he could grab the cup and drink it himself.

"You got it?" It was Link's voice.

"Yeah, thanks," Hiccup replied hoarsely. Blinking at the few drops of delicious, crystal-clear water at the bottom of the cup, he asked, "Where did this come from?"

Link motioned toward the fountain. A steady stream of water splashed around the broken statue of Hylia, running over the basin and making a slow but steady path through the deserted riverbed.

"Maybe it's the heat," Hiccup started slowly, "but I would bet my boot that that"—he gestured toward the fountain—"has water in it."

"It's not the heat," Link said. "It's real."

Hiccup looked from the fountain to the empty cup and back to the fountain. "Wha— How …"

Link smiled. "The Princess. Go on," he said with a tilt of his head. "It's not going to run out."

Hiccup hobbled toward the fountain and dunked his entire head in. With a swish, he pulled it out and shook, scattering hundreds of tiny droplets across the desert floor. He never thought he'd missed water so much! His itchy, cracking skin thanked him as the water ran down his arms.

Link leaned an elbow against the edge of the fountain. "Just wait till the fairies show up."

Hiccup wiped the water from his face and stared at Link. The sun had sunk behind the high canyon walls, but there was still enough light to see the remarkable change. It was like one of the reliefs from the Hall of Heroes had come to life before his eyes. Gone were the leather breastplate and hood, and instead of brown, the loose tunic was now a glorious green that made Hiccup homesick for the forests on Berk. To top it all off was that unmistakable droopy hat.

"You know, in person," Hiccup started, "the hat still looks pretty silly."

Link pushed Hiccup back into the fountain.

/

On the other side of the shrine, the Sheikah crossed her arms. "You asked me to make him battle ready. What did you expect?"

The princess lifted her chin. "Severe dehydration is hardly what I consider 'battle ready'. What were you thinking?"

"These were all standard drills."

"He's not from here. You can't expect him to just jump in like one of your soldiers."

"And what would you have him do? Hope and pray that Ganon will politely hand over the Triforce of Power and leave Hyrule?" Zelda's nostrils flared as she took a step back. The Sheikah continued. "Leave the fighting to those who will actually fight."

Impa turned on her heel and stalked back to the training grounds. No wonder the Kingdom fell. Those who lack the strength to defend it will lose it. What have her prayers ever done?

As she walked, her eyes caught a tiny trickle of water winding its way down the dusty canyon.


Author's Notes:

And we are now officially 2/3 done! Thanks to everyone who has made it this far. And if you're jumping in here, thanks for giving my story a chance!

Bonus points if you get the title reference :P

Thanks to Ari Lewis and Luke for beta reading!