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Rain was drumming on the castle roof when Zelda drifted awake from the haze of a nightmare. She could hear the fireplace crackling in front of her bed, and Impa humming low in her throat as she tended to the flames. Zelda pulled the quilts tighter around herself and wondered if she'd left a window open by mistake. It usually wasn't so drafty in her bedroom.
When she opened her eyes, it became impossible to pretend she was home and safe. The walls and ceiling around her were rock, and she lay under one flimsy woolen cloak, not a nest of quilts on her featherbed. When she looked out of the cave's mouth, all she could see was soft morning rain soaking the trees, and Champion, grazing as far as his tether would allow. Impa sat cross-legged in front of a campfire, watching Zelda stir. She wore a dark cloak, and Zelda could see that she'd scratched away at the Sheikah emblem emblazed on her gorget until the eye and the teardrop were no longer recognizable.
Zelda sat up and rubbed a hand over her eyes—they felt swollen from so much crying. She looked down at her torn dress and her dirty hands, and felt numb.
"Where are we?" she asked finally.
"The forest east of the castle," Impa answered. "It's as far as we could get before the horse had to rest. I stopped in a village briefly while you were asleep to buy these." She tossed a bundle of faded clothing into Zelda's lap—a pair of trousers, a tunic, and socks, as well as leather boots, all in muted browns and tans. "Change, and burn the dress. The headscarf, too."
Zelda obeyed, slipping into the scratchy new garments and pulling the scarf from her hair. She held the dress in her hands, staring at the fire, hoping beyond hope that this was all just a terrible dream. But it's not, she reminded herself. It was a terrible dream that started all of this.
"We'll need to cut your hair," Impa mused, coming to stand behind her. Her hands ran through the tumble of golden locks that reached halfway down Zelda's back. "I am sorry, Princess, but it must be done. Blonde hair is uncommon and memorable, and Ganondorf will be hunting for someone of your description." A shiver ran up her spine at the name. "With shaggy hair and peasant clothes, you can pass for a commoner."
Zelda nodded her agreement and tentatively laid the dress in the fire, kneeling down to watch it catch and blacken and crumble as Impa took a knife to her hair. As she hacked away, strands drifted down to the cave floor, catching in the firelight like golden yarn. It was only hair, but still, Zelda had to take a shuddering breath to compose herself.
"Do you think Link succeeded?" she asked. She thought of that single glimpse she'd caught last night of his face, pale and frightened in the rain as they raced by on Champion. Zelda wondered if that would be the last time they saw each other. Some fierce feeling told her it wouldn't be; the same place inside her that felt as though Link were as familiar to her as her own name.
Impa's hands never paused. "I don't know, Princess."
"We have to find out. If he did…we could still stop Ganondorf."
"Your safety is the priority," Impa replied calmly.
"Hyrule," Zelda said, in a sharpvoice she had learned from her father, "Is the priority."
"Yes, but without you Hyrule has nothing. No ruler, no royal bloodline, no future, no hope. You survived the coup, Princess. Now you must keep surviving."
Zelda dropped her gaze to the cave floor, nudging a clump of hair with her foot. You have your mother's hair, her father had often told her. And her wit, too. Her head felt lighter now, the air hitting her neck in a strange, unfamiliar way. Her voice sounded small and scared when she spoke. "What are we going to do, Impa?"
Her guardian sighed wearily. "For now, find a safe place to stay."
"We could go to one of my cousins," Zelda suggested. "Or to another noble…"
"Those are the first places Ganondorf would look for us."
Of course they were. Zelda thought for a moment. "Zora's Domain," she offered hopefully. "Princess Ruto is my friend…maybe her father would take us in."
"And if Ganondorf found us there, Ruto and her father and countless others would be in danger as well," Impa said gently. "No, we're going to Kakariko for a few days; then we must go into hiding."
"Kakariko?" Zelda repeated. She knew the history—Kakariko had been home to the Sheikah, but the Civil War had left Impa as the only survivor of her race. Impa opened Kakariko as a safe haven for the refugees fleeing the war, but left when the king had summoned her to serve as bodyguard and nursemaid for his infant daughter. Impa rarely spoke of the place where she'd grown up, and when she did, it was with a kind of weary, lingering sadness.
"I have allies there. People I know and trust. We must warn them of Ganondorf's treachery. They can give us some supplies and a safe place to rest while I work with them to organize some kind of resistance. We can stop him before it is too late, Princess."
Zelda fingered a clump of hair that had fallen into her lap. "Maybe," she agreed dully. "But my father will still be dead."
Impa let out a long breath, and made the final cut, then ran her fingers through Zelda's hair to shake out the loose strands. Zelda raised her hands to her head, feeling the choppy locks that reached just halfway down her neck, spikey as a hedgehog.
"I should have saved your father," Impa said flatly.
"He should have believed me about Ganondorf," Zelda pointed out, voice brittle. She stood up to face Impa, yanking on the too-big boots and pulling up the hood of her cloak. "That's not your fault. Let's go, Impa. We have a kingdom to save."
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"Hear the news?" muttered a man outside the window, leaning against the wall of Impa's home to keep out of the rain.
"It's awful, just awful," replied the woman next to him. "Why would anyone want to harm the king? And all those people in the castle…dead overnight…"
"Those damn desert savages," the man said harshly, spitting onto the ground.
"What happened to the princess? Our poor Zelda…"
"No one knows where she is. Sad to say, but my guess is that she's dead. Don't think that little girl could escape Ganondorf when even the soldiers are dead."
"Then we have no ruler," the woman said fearfully.
"We have a ruler," the man answered bitterly. "We got Ganondorf."
"Oh, goddesses. What will happen to Hyrule?"
"I don't know," the man grunted. "I do know the smith won't be happy if we hold up these deliveries any longer. Let's go."
Zelda listened to the two of them splash away into the rain, and scraped up the remaining bits of the stew in her bowl. They had just confirmed her suspicions—Ganondorf had really killed everyone in the castle—her patient, lovely ladies-in-waiting, the tutors who had taught her everything she knew, the nobles on her father's council who always listened to what Zelda had to say, the cook with her harsh words and her soft heart, the kind old librarian who spent hours discussing books with her. Everyone, everyone Zelda had ever known.
For a moment, the grief was like a stone weight pressing down on her shoulders, making it hard to breathe. She wanted to cry, but she thought her tears must have dried up after the horror of the previous night. But beneath the burden was anger; anger that wouldn't let her stay still.
She stood up, letting the empty bowl clatter onto the table. Impa had told her to stay put, but she pushed through the door to the adjoining room, where a heated argument was taking place over a big wooden table. Impa and her associates froze and fell silent, their eyes fixing on Zelda as she said, "We have to get those people out of Castle Town."
"Carmine," Impa said in warning. She'd introduced Zelda as an orphan from the streets who was training as a Sheikah. It was still strange to look at Impa in disguise—she'd used magic to turn her hair and eyes brown, though her face remained mostly the same sans the tattoos under her eyes. Her Sheikah features would have been too recognizable.
"We don't have time for argument!" Zelda retorted hotly. "There are lives at stake."
The woman next to Impa folded her arms, all hard muscles and scars—she'd been a soldier before leaving the army to form her own fighting force. "Do you know what the word 'mercenary' means, girl?" When Zelda opened her mouth to answer, the woman cut her off. "It means my band requires money before we go anywhere and risk our asses. Unless you got a big purse of gold in your pockets right now, I can't do anything."
"What about compassion, then?" snapped the captain of Kakariko's guard. "I know you aren't heartless. We aren't making a strike on the Gerudo—we're trying to save people."
"It seems there's been a split in Ganondorf's forces," another man said, spreading his long hands on the table. Impa had told her that he was an information broker; that he could find out anything he wanted. "Some of the Gerudo were displeased with how Ganondorf handled the coup. It seems they have a kind of code—honor amongst thieves, as it were. They didn't sign up for slaughtering innocents. Many of them have deserted and returned home; the rest are mostly gathered in the castle."
"Then…it could work," Impa said reluctantly. "If we go under the cover of night, get those people out as fast as we can…Ganondorf would be made a fool."
"My guards and I are in," the captain said immediately. "We won't stand by and let this atrocity continue."
The broker gave a sharp smile. "My agents will take out what Gerudo they can, and spread word among the people to ready themselves. We'll try to clear you a path."
All eyes turned to the mercenary. She scoffed. "Don't expect me—"
Zelda yanked back her hood and shook out her blonde hair, short as it was, and met the woman's eyes. "Do you have anyone you care about?" she demanded. "Parents, siblings, a lover, a son or daughter? What about your warriors? If we let Ganondorf seize all of Hyrule as he seized my castle, they will all be endangered. They will all be poor and desperate. Or they will just be dead, like my father. Ganondorf doesn't know the meaning of mercy."
The mercenary stared at her, wide-eyed. "Princess Zelda?" she said in an awed hush. Impa smacked her hand to her forehead exasperatedly; the guard-captain fell to his knees before Zelda.
The information broker just smirked and looked at Impa. "You didn't really think you could hide anything from me, did you?"
"When all this is over, I swear you will be compensated," Zelda promised. "For now…find it in your heart to help us. Please."
"Fine," the mercenary growled. Zelda almost curtsied before she remembered she wore no skirts; instead, she offered her hand. The mercenary shook it, and gave her a brief grin.
"We have no time to waste," Impa said. "We're moving tonight."
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Muffled gasps sounded from atop the wall, then three splashes as the mercenaries shoved Gerudo's bodies into the moat. Zelda grimaced and held onto Impa's hand tightly, her heart thumping in the dark quiet. She heard the slithering of rope as the mercenaries reeled in their grappling hooks, and after a moment the drawbridge creaked down. Slowly, Castle Town came into view, illuminated only by a few braziers lining the streets.
Zelda couldn't stop her sharp intake of breath as she took in the toppled market stalls, the broken statue of the royal crest that had crowned the fountain, and the oppressive silence that hung over the town—in twenty-four hours, her home had become unrecognizable. What could Ganondorf do, given more time?
"Come, Princess," Impa murmured, pulling her along as the Kakariko guards and the mercenaries moved across the bridge. Both the captain and the mercenary chief were giving their people orders as Impa and Zelda slipped away, stealing swiftly and quietly through the back alleyways. Impa had vehemently protested Zelda's desire to go to the Temple of Time, but eventually, she had seen how important it was to find out what had happened to Link and the precious items he carried.
Zelda squeaked as she tripped and fell to the ground, losing hold of Impa's hand. Her guardian was beside her in an instant, pulling Zelda upright. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Zelda reassured, brushing off her clothes and looking behind her. "But what was…"
The stench hit her then, and she gagged, her stomach roiling as she realized what had tripped her. A dead man sprawled in the alley, his back against the wall of a building, his head lolling to the side at a nearly comical angle. Zelda had just enough time to see her family's crest on the uniform he wore before Impa yanked her around by the shoulders.
"Impa," she gasped, stumbling away from the corpse. "That's…that was…" Zelda braced a hand against the wall as she retched, Impa gathering her hair away from her face and rubbing her back.
Even when her stomach was empty, she couldn't calm down, she couldn't stop shaking—because she had known that man. He had often accompanied Zelda when Impa was otherwise occupied; his name had been James. He'd told Zelda about his daughter, who was close to her age—but not much like you, Princess, he'd said with a fond chuckle. She's always getting into trouble, my Abby. Always giving her mother and I grief. Sometimes, he would bring Zelda sweets from his wife's bakery.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why is this happening?"
"I don't know, Princess," Impa replied. "But I do know that we can stop it. We can get past this. Are you well enough to walk? We must keep moving."
Zelda nodded grimly and shoved away from the wall, her steps hurried as she walked away from the dead body. The Temple of Time was just beyond the opening of the alleyway, a giant, hulking shape in the darkness.
The doors' hinges whined as Impa pushed them open. Zelda hadn't been here since that first time, years ago, when she'd snuck out of the castle as a little girl. How faraway the wonder of that day seemed now, when the smell of death hung over the city like a storm cloud.
"Hello?" she called hesitantly, her voice echoing back to her in the large chamber. "Link?"
"He is here, Your Highness," answered a voice, worn by age but strong and wise. "Yet, not in the way you long for."
Impa put a protective hand on Zelda's shoulder. "Show yourself!" she barked.
Gentle blue light flooded the temple, light the color of the sky. When Zelda's vision cleared, an elderly man in orange robes stood before her in the center of the Triforce carved onto the floor. He rubbed at his white beard, frowning deeply; she could see kindness in her eyes, but graveness as well.
"I am Rauru, the Sage of Light. And you are the one who will lead us all." Zelda's eyes widened as he stepped closer to her, lowering his head in a bow of respect. "We have much to discuss, Princess Zelda."
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notes: Sorry this took so long to get out! And thanks for reading, as always!
disclaimer: Zelda is not mine.