Disclaimer: I regret to inform you that I do not own Zelda; would I be writing fan-fiction for it if I owned the franchise?

Chapter Two

He took in a shuddering, ragged breath, and his knees buckled. Daphnes collapsed, his eyes glazing over; the arrow having pierced and crushed his windpipe, the King of Hyrule was dead before he hit the ground with a sickening thud, his blood staining the white marble floors red.

Several things happened at once after the King fell. Chaos erupted in the upper balconies as the archers recovered from the shock of being betrayed by one of their own; seconds later, Colin burst through a concealed doorway that was one of many combined entrances and exits. The bow of the traitorous archer lay on the marble floor, discarded in flight and then broken in two by rushing feet as he was pursued. Colin paused, conversing briskly with one of the remaining archers who had not scattered when the fatal arrows had been loosed, a hand clapped on one of the frightened archer's shoulders in a vice-like grip, before taking off in pursuit of the assassin, determined to find him—or her—and bring them back alive for questioning.

Nobles screamed and fainted as they turned to see the source of the previous commotion and were greeted with the sight of Daphnes sprawled on the marble floors, lying in a pool of his own blood, the arrow still protruding from his neck. The knights and the Queen's Guard reacted instantly, falling back on their training to block out emotion—those who had not already left the ball with the nobles that had managed to leave before the assassination quickly formed a ring around the remaining nobles, hastening to shepherd them out of the ballroom before panic became widespread.

Auru sprinted across the ballroom, his speed belying his age, coming to the side of Link and Ashei and helping the two to haul the double doors shut, in order to protect Zelda should any more archers decide to finish what the assassin had started. The moment that the absence of Link's weight allowed her to move, Zelda rushed to kneel at the side of her fallen husband, and with shaking, gloved fingers, gently closed his eyes. Bowing her head in grief for the man that had come to be a friend to her and a King to her beloved country, she took little heed of the blood that began to stain her gown, a fist clutched to her chest out of respect.

Behind her, Auru made quick work of Ashei's injury, tearing strips from his tunic—despite Ashei's quickly overridden protests that such a fine garment should not be ruined—as she dismantled her armour with her remaining good arm. She cried out in pain as he snapped the arrow and pulled the remainder out, before he quickly bound the wound with the strips from his tunic, stemming the flow of blood and giving her at least some use of the limb until they could get her proper treatment. Satisfied that Auru was more than capable of tending to his friend's wound, Link grabbed Zelda by the shoulder, trying not to be too rough, although he could not stop some of his anger bubbling through.

"Is the extra security ridiculous now, Your Majesty?" he hissed mockingly, hauling her to her feet and ignoring her protests.

Zelda tried to pull away and break his grip, but it was in vain—the hand clamped around her arm would not let go. She did not dignify his barbed comment with a response—she knew he was right, even if she would not give him the satisfaction—instead meeting his eyes with her own, noting how dry his fierce blue orbs stayed and feeling suddenly ashamed of the tears that threatened to spill. She tried again to break from his grip. "We have to get Daphnes' body away from here; it isn't right for him to lie in the corridors like this."

Link's eyes flashed. "You're still in danger, Zelda. Getting you to safety is my—our—main priority right now." Shifting his sword in his hand, he called over his shoulder. "Ashei! Get servants you know we can trust and get the body cleared away—Auru, with me! We must get Zelda out of here."

Ashei nodded stiffly; the moment Auru fell into step beside him, Link tugged Zelda's arm, forcing her to run with them as they sprinted down the corridors of the castle which, moments ago, they had viewed as safe and secure. Now, every nook and cranny seemed a possible hiding place for assassins and murderers, should someone decide to finish with a blade what the rogue archer had failed to accomplish with a bow.

"How can you be so callous?" Zelda snapped, half stumbling as she struggled to keep up with Link and Auru's hurried pace. Auru stayed on her left, hand on his sword hilt, whilst Link still had not let go of Zelda's right arm, as if afraid that if he released her she would follow her husband into the grave. When Link merely pressed on, not dignifying her question with a reply, she hissed, "Where are you taking me?"

"In answer to your first question, it comes with living through a war," he reminded her bitterly. "In answer to your second," he continued as they rounded a sharp corner and the furnishings became less and less elaborate, the tapestries adorning the walls of battles and war rather than of peacetime and Goddesses, "I'm taking you to my quarters—the one place in this castle that I know is safe. Once there I will signal for a few trustworthy people to aid us until this assassin is caught."

It did not take long before Link's worst fears were confirmed, and he counted himself lucky that he had commanded Auru to accompany them, and that the old tutor had respected his judgment. As they rounded the corner which put them in the hall leading to Link's rooms, they were ambushed—three would-be murderers garbed in servant's attire leaped out in front of them, brandishing daggers and swords. Link and Auru pushed Zelda back against the wall, using their bodies to shield her.

The fight was short, bloody, and hardly worthy of being called a fight at all—however, the appearance of more assassins raised several questions, the most alarming of which being how they had known where to find the Queen, or whether it had been sheer dumb luck. Link made sure Zelda was where he could keep one eye on her before bending and grimly wiping his blade upon the clothes of the fallen—noticing Auru did the same, he motioned to the older man and the two quickly pushed the bodies up against the wall, hoping the corpses would not be discovered by nobles before servants or soldiers had a chance to clear them away. Keeping their swords drawn, they put the fight behind them, keeping the now-shaking monarch between them as they sprinted the stretch before Link's quarters.

The sound of the doors slamming shut reverberated with an awful finality as Link, Zelda, and Auru reached the interior of the first room in Link's quarters. Link wasted no time in stripping off his outer clothes in order to don a chain-mail hauberk and retrieve his coif, saying he wanted to be prepared for any eventuality. Auru leant against the doors, using his weight to bar them shut. A tense silence descended, as both men watched their monarch, unsure of what could be done besides wait for news and be prepared should another attempt on her life be made.

Zelda trembled, still coming to terms with how quickly and effectively the peace they had worked so hard for had been shattered. Her position as Queen was no longer something she could take for granted, she realised—even though she was but recently widowed, the Royal Council would waste no time in attempting to discredit her claim to the throne once more, she was sure. In a moment of weakness—of grief—in front of one of her closest friends and one of her most trusted advisors, a few teardrops spilled over, trickling down her cheeks to fall onto the silk of her royal gown, another stain on the soft fabric. Link walked over to her, some of the anger in his eyes being replaced by sympathy—and, she was sure, grief, although she knew he had never been particularly fond of the late King. He place a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, through that one gesture lending her strength and providing her with the solidarity she had come to rely upon from her closest friend. She offered him a thin, wan smile, before her resolve hardened, an anger akin to his own lighting in her eyes.

"The Council—they'll try to take the throne from me," she near whispered, her voice low. She wiped the residue of her tears angrily with the back of one hand. "I won't let them."

Link removed his hand from her shoulder, folding his arms across his chest and surveying his Queen, relieved that the strength of character and resilience he knew she had was shining through, even in the face of attempts on her life and the death of Daphnes. Creaks from the door caused his head to whip around worriedly, but to his relief the sound had merely been the result of Auru straightening and taking his weight off them. "They can't take it from you completely, Your Majesty," he informed her. "While it's true that by their laws you can't reign without a husband, they can't stop you acting at the very least as Regent until an appropriate candidate either for marriage or a singular King is found."

"The throne is rightfully yours, Zelda," Link reminded her. "You and Daphnes had no child, and neither of you named an heir."

Their words serving to strengthen her resolve, Zelda nodded grimly. "That will come later. For now," she continued, the sudden amount of venom and anger in her voice almost startling the war-hardened knight, "we catch this remaining assassin, and then whoever he or she is working for will get what they deserve."

Daphnes is dead. The King is dead.

The words ran through the blonde soldier's mind, a never-ending cycle of monotonous morbidity accompanied by the thudding of his boots upon the marble floors and the pounding of his heart against his rib cage as he sprinted along corridors which moments ago had been part of a grand structure, representative of safety and majestic royalty and a long-awaited peace. However, the second-in-command of the Queen's Guard was now forced to give everything a second glance, not taking anything at face value, in case the many twists and turns in the castle halls concealed the assassin which they sought. Following the archers who—he desperately hoped—had remained loyal, he had hung onto their insisted protests that they had seen which way the traitor had run as if their meagre help was the very last thing keeping him alive.

Knowing the castle had originally been built in the times of the Imprisoning War, several hundred years ago, and knowing it had been rebuilt shortly after the conclusion of the Twilight War, Colin knew that there were many secret passageways meant to provide escape for the Royal family in times of trouble, yet now they provided only places to hide for a criminal. However, he knew a great many of the passageways' exits, having been given a map of the castle once upon a time to memorize, upon his promotion to second-in-command what now seemed so long ago. Methodically, he ran over the most likely escape routes in his mind, allowing his training to take over and push anger and grief to the background, to be replaced by determination. However, a small amount of childish glee broke through for a moment, as he realized he was finally fulfilling a promise made to himself and to Link when he had been but a child—'One day, I want to be as brave as you, Link…' He remembered the first time he had held a sword after the end of the Twilight War, when he had vowed to himself that he would protect Zelda and Hyrule—with his life, if necessary—the way Link had done. A dry, humourless chuckle nearly bubbled from his lips as he reminded himself that he had already failed to protect one of his monarchs, and the small smile that had wandered across his face twisted into a grimace.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a voice shouting for his attention, and Colin tensed when he saw that the archers had halted, his hand closing around his sword hilt in a tight grip, ready to draw it if necessary—perhaps they had found the assassin? However, there was no one malevolent in sight; the archers stood in a loose semi-circle formation around him, bows strung and hands nervously resting on the arrows that protruded from their quivers. The one who had spoken, a rough, unshaven man who seemed to have a build more suited to a life as a foot soldier rather than an archer, stepped forward a little. "Sir," he began again, scratching the stubble on his chin with the hand that did not hold his bow, pausing as if asking for permission to speak.

Colin nodded, indicating that he should continue.

"Our presence has been requested in the ballroom," he continued, his hand resting on the small magical symbol on his cloak which was spelled by Zelda and her team of trained magic-wielders to allow certain military officers to communicate with each other. Colin cursed his bad luck that it appeared either his own had malfunctioned, or his knowledge of the orders had not been deemed necessary. His brow furrowed as he frowned, and the archer rushed to explain, sensing his superior's sudden irritation. "Sir Link has Zelda with him and Auru in his quarters, and he called for some of the knights to join him, so additional security in the ballroom has been called for to get the nobles out of here before they become uncontrollable."

Colin felt a wave of relief at the news that Zelda was safe with Link and Auru; however, the fact that Link had called for knights to aid him was unsettling—had they run into trouble in the corridors before Link's quarters? Despite his annoyance at the archers leaving—what if the assassin was not alone, and had backup when Colin did find him? Would they force him to fight alone?—he knew there was nothing he could do. He nodded curtly, before jerking his head in the direction they had come, indicating they should hasten to the ballroom. The archers saluted and then broke formation, running back down the corridors. However, the one who had spoken—Colin assumed he was the squad's leader, although he did not know for sure as he had never involved himself overly with the ranged infantry—remained a few moments longer. "He is distinctive by his cloak and the embroidery upon his clothes," the soldier informed him. "He will have the long dagger that all archers are given, plus whatever else he has decided is necessary, so watch out."

Colin bristled at the slight implication that he could not defend himself; a sword and chain-mail were more than a match for a long dagger, the padded light archer's armour, and a bow that would be useless at short range. The archer evidently noticed, for he stammered, "No disrespect meant, sir."

Colin nodded silently, one eyebrow raised, and the archer saluted him, before running after his men down the corridors. The blonde soldier listened a moment to the sound of their retreating footsteps in order to make sure they really had returned to the ballroom, and were not merely leaving him in order to open him to an ambush—had he really become that suspicious of loyal men in that short a time?—before he turned and continued in the direction they had headed. He drew his sword as the corridor began to climb, realizing the chase had led him to one of the many large, high, stone bridges that connected different wings of the castle. He gripped his sword tighter and shifted in his mail before kicking open the door that he had arrived at; it swung open easily at the force of the impact, and light spilled out from the castle onto the bridge beyond.

In the pitch blackness of night, the bridge was illuminated solely by sparse torches held in metal brackets, far dimmer than the lamps used to light the castle halls, and so small pools of light were all that broke the darkness. Colin cursed, knowing the shadows provided plenty of places to hide; however, he was thankful that the door, at least, was brightly lit by the two oil-lamps that hung on either side of it. Eyes alert, trying to pierce the darkness, he crept out of the doorway, wincing slightly at the awful finality that the sound of the heavy wooden door shutting behind him carried. A chill wind bit into him, and as he strode out confidently onto the stone bridge, he took a torch from one of the brackets, so that he might provide himself with his own source of light.

Shivering slightly at the brisk coldness of the wind, he halted as a flicker of movement in the shadows near the opposite doorway caught his eye. As he raised the torch above his head, the pool of warm yellow light pushing back the shadows, his eyes narrowed as he tried to pierce the darkness and perceive the cause of what he had seen. "Who's there?" he shouted boldly, trying to embody his voice with the commanding tone he had heard Link and Auru use many times, but the wind snatched away the words the moment they left his lips.

No answer came, and the shadows in the doorway grew still. Determined not to believe he had imagined it—but just as determined not to let himself hope that he had found their traitor—he swallowed and demanded, "Show yourself!"

Silence reigned for a moment, broken only by the whistling of the wind and the sound it made as it rattled against the castle windows. Colin dry swallowed, the silence and the darkness combined unnerving him. He was on the verge of pushing forward and returning to the warmth of the indoors of the castle, convinced he had imagined what he had seen, when a dry chuckle emerged from the inky blackness near the threshold.

"Caught, am I?" a voice sneered, and Colin watched as a figure emerged, cloaked in darkness, lingering just before the circle of light thrust outward by the torch he carried. His previous anxiousness consumed in the face of anger and hatred when he realized he had found the assassin after all—he thanked the Goddesses that the archers had proven to be loyal, and had not led him astray—Colin ground his teeth and bit back the desire to reply with a scathing comment.

He was of medium height and build; there was nothing about him that would have made him stand out in a crowd, or forced one to give him a second glance. Indeed, he seemed perfectly ordinary, merely a soldier among many, except for the contemptuous expression that twisted his features and the cold glint in his grey eyes. His stance was confident and self-assured; it was evident from the way he stood, a few paces out of the shadows, that he believed there was nothing Colin could do to harm him. The wind swirled his cloak about him, and Colin realised it was a darker grey than the standard issue archer's cloak; for a moment he wondered at the kind of sloppy handiwork that would allow for such an elementary mistake.

Colin straightened, not allowing himself to be taunted by the assassin's cocky stance and blasé attitude. "You have been charged with high treason," he shouted, trying to instil his voice with an authoritative, commanding, tone. However, he was finding it increasingly hard as he had to raise his voice in order to compete with the now-ferocious wind. "I hereby place you under arrest—"

He could get no more words out, however, for the traitorous archer snarled, simultaneously drawing what looked to be two long, curved daggers and lunging for Colin. He reacted instantaneously, using the hilt and blade of his sword to block the oncoming blows, putting one foot behind himself in order to give him a steadier position. Taking a defensive stance proved not to be as easy as he had thought, however, as the archer was agile, and he slashed and swiped at Colin with his blades with increasing speed. To his relief, the blades themselves were not enough to penetrate Colin's chain-mail armour, and the majority of the blows glanced off with the ringing sound of steel clashing on steel.

I must not kill him, Colin thought. We need to have him alive for questioning.

The fight endured in the same manner for what seemed an age, until the opposing door burst open. Colin was filled with the sudden dreadful feeling that the archer had called for backup; however, some of his fears were allayed when the assassin seemed just as surprised to see the door opening as Colin was. His surprise gave Colin a momentary advantage in the stalemate; he turned his head fractionally, giving Colin a golden window of opportunity. Colin brought his sword up, and slammed the pommel into the archer's temple. He dropped, crumpling to the ground, unconscious. As he fell, one of his blades got lucky, finding the un-protected sliver of skin where Colin's short chain-mail jacket ended.

Colin gritted his teeth as pain bloomed along the gash, telling himself he had endured much worse injuries. Dropping the torch, he pressed one hand to the wound to stop the bleeding, keeping his sword drawn and peering at the open doorway, from where no one had emerged. "I know you are there!" he shouted.

There was a tense silence, broken only by the sound made by the fierce gusts of wind.

However, much to Colin's relief, there was only one person who emerged from the gaping doorway—a familiar face: Colin's own father, Rusl. He gave a start when he saw Colin, rushing over, gripping a short sword in his hand. When he approached, he explained, "I heard what happened and came looking—then I heard the sounds of fighting and decided to investigate."

"We need to get him to Link's quarters," Colin informed his father, motioning to the slumped body of the assassin with his sword, before sheathing it and bending down to the level of the fallen soldier. With the hand that was not pressed to his side, he picked up both daggers, examining them in the light of the torch. His curiousity piqued, Rusl motioned for Colin to hand them to him.

"This is not Castle Town work," he mused. "The shaping, the grooves—even the metal; it is all wrong."

"Later, father. We need to get him to Link and Zelda," Colin reminded him, lifting the assassin's body with his free hand, and with some difficulty managing to sling one limp arm over his shoulders. Rusl nodded, taking the unconscious soldier's other side; together, they managed to half carry, half drag the archer back into the interior of the castle.

So caught up in their own, private struggle were they, that they did not notice the silent watcher that studied them from its perch in one of the Castle's grand oaks. As the door swung closed behind them, it blinked, skin sliding over large, amber orbs. Its melancholy cry filling the night, it soared away on ethereal wings, blending into the night and disappearing over the Castle's walls.

The atmosphere in the Hero of Light's quarters was tense. An assembled guard of no fewer than eight knights watched their Queen with wary eyes as she paced the length of the sitting room, her gown whispering as she moved, and her slippered feet making no sound as they hit the carpeted floor. Her arms were folded, and the fingers of her right hand drummed out a nervous, repetitive rhythm on her left upper arm; her brow was furrowed, various emotions swirling in her violet eyes behind a mask of concentrated determination.

Link noticed her glance toward the door and then set her eyes straight again, and realised she was waiting anxiously—just like the rest of them—for news of the assassin's fate. He would have gone out himself to look for Colin and found out what had occurred, but he wanted to personally keep an eye on Zelda; he was not sure whether or not she would try sneaking out on her own in his absence. He did not doubt that she had a sense of what was appropriate, and knew that she realised her safety was of paramount importance, yet he also knew that she hated being forced to sit and do nothing while others were busy. Although she could defend herself—being more than capable with both a sword and a bow—it was not a risk he was willing to take.

If they were to lose Zelda as well, it would pave the way for the Council to put one of their own on the throne. A chilling thought took him, yet he shook it off as suspicion brought on by the aftershocks of such a terrible event.

Several excruciating moments passed, where nothing was said aloud, yet multitudes was conveyed by the looks that were sent between the knights and Auru. The silence was shattered by cries from outside, and a loud knocking on the main doors of his rooms. Link leapt up from where he had been leaning against one of his bookshelves—which were lined with various tomes detailing everything from battle strategies to myths and lore—and ran to the large, wooden doors. He tensed, drawing his sword, and realised the knights and Zelda were watching anxiously from the sitting room. Only Auru had joined him, standing behind him warily, his own sword drawn.

"Who is there?" he called.

To his immense relief, it was a familiar voice who answered.

"Link! Open the doors!" That was Rusl—but why was he there? Somewhat puzzled, Link nonetheless sheathed his sword.

"We—have him—" Colin's voice came from the corridors outside; he sounded as if he were in pain, and with an alarmed shout, Link rushed to the doors, pulling them open.

The sight that greeted him filled him with a mix of relief and anxiety: Colin and Rusl dragged between them the unconscious form of a man, one of his arms slumped over each of their shoulders. His feet dragged on the ground, and his head lolled uselessly from side to side as he was jostled around. Colin had one hand pressed to his side, and a spectacular bruise was blooming on his jaw. Rusl, having had only the lightest armour—barely any at all—bore a long, shallow cut running from his left shoulder to his elbow.

Quickly, Link rushed to relieve them of their burden. Heaving the unconscious soldier over one shoulder, he motioned for Auru to shut the doors behind Colin and Rusl, and led them all back into the sitting room, where Zelda and the knights awaited them anxiously. He dumped the assassin rather unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor, the thud that he made when he hit the ground drawing the eyes of everyone in the room.

"Why are you hurt?" Link inquired of them. "What happened?"

Colin began to retell the story, beginning with how he had finally cornered the treasonous archer on one of the high, connecting stone bridges, detailing how he had felled him, when one of his blades had found its mark and given him the gash across the small area of unprotected flesh.

He then went on to describe how, making their way painfully slowly back to Link's quarters, they had been jumped by three more would-be assassins. Link drew in breath sharply at this information: it brought the overall number to seven, and he was not sure whether there could be more. At Link's urgings, Colin peeled off his mail armour, so that Zelda might look at his wound. Being a female descendant of the ancient Royal line, Zelda was naturally blessed with the ability to use some forms of magic; under the guidance of her old tutor, Auru, she had been able to channel this inherent ability into the means to heal small wounds and injuries.

Link watched, amazed, as beneath her hands Colin's skin knitted itself back together, and the bruise on his jaw dissolved inwards, vanishing. As she moved to administer the same treatment to the long gash on Rusl's arm, Link knelt to examine the body of the assassin. Peeling back an eyelid, Link was relieved to find that he was merely unconscious, and had not passed away—it was not that he did not trust Colin and Rusl, but it was vital they be able to obtain information.

"Zelda," Link began, grabbing her attention once she had finished healing Rusl, "can you revive him so that we can question him?"

Zelda nodded. "First, bind him and strip him of all possible weapons. I will take no chances."

Link motioned to Auru—together, the two managed to unearth another dagger, his bow, his quiver, and two small throwing stars, whose points gleamed in the light, shining with what looked disturbingly like a poison coating. Placing the weapons in the care of one of the other knights, they forced him into a sitting position and used strips of his tunic to bind his hands and his feet, making sure there was no way the bonds could be undone.

Zelda knelt in front of the unconscious archer, placing her hands on his chest and murmuring words under her breath. Satisfied she was finished, she stood, glaring down at the man who had sent Daphnes into the grave and folding her arms across her chest. The moment he came to and realised where he was—and whose company he was in—he snarled, a frightened look coming into his eyes as he attempted to fight his bonds and flee.

"Oh, you'll not be going anywhere," Link informed him, a menacing edge threading into his voice. "Not until you tell us who you're working for and why you killed Daphnes."

His face twisted into a contemptuous expression. "I'm not stupid enough to tell you who I work for."

"You'll tell us," Zelda deadpanned, her eyes blazing with anger. "One way or another."

"I'll tell you why I killed your fat, old husband," the assassin spat. "Want to know? Because I couldn't get to you, wench."

Cries of anger and outrage came from the occupants of the room; Link shot warning looks at the knights, telling them silently not to kill the criminal, however angry he might make them. He had not counted on Colin, however. The second-in-command snarled, drawing his sword and pressing it against the man's throat. "Never speak of Her Majesty that way."

The assassin laughed. Colin pressed his sword harder, drawing blood. The archer's tongue darted out, licking his lips nervously. "Zelda," Link implored, imagining that the situation could get out of hand only too quickly, and that they would be left with no answers and a dead archer, "can you...?"

His Queen nodded, kneeling in front of the assassin. Link and Colin instinctively gripped him tighter, lest he decided to take advantage of his target's closeness. However, it seemed the cold steel resting on his neck was enough to keep his murderous intents at bay, and Zelda reached out with one gloved, slender-fingered hand, placing it on the man's forehead. A look of intense concentration crossed over her face; eyes darted between her and the assassin warily, watching, waiting to see what would happen. The room seemed to crackle with an unseen energy, before Zelda cried out, jerking her hand away as if burned.

The archer gasped. Link was suddenly unable to hold him any longer, as his hands felt as though they were on fire, merely through the act of touching the man's shoulder. He pulled his hands away, unable to comprehend what was happening, and noticed Colin do the same. Colin's sword fell from his grip, landing with a dull thud on the ground.

"Please—!" the assassin cried, jerking from side to side. "No—I will tell—there was a man!—a lett—" His sentence was cut off as he was violently flung into the air by some unseen force. He hung, suspended above their heads, as they looked on in trepidation, hands resting on sword hilts, ready to draw and attack if it proved necessary. The man's mouth was frozen in a silent scream as he began to spin, faster and faster.

There was a blast, and they were all thrown backwards; Link instinctively moved to shield Zelda with his body, and noticed Colin and Rusl do the same. As they watched in amazement and a sickening horror, he seemed to curl inwards on himself, shrinking rapidly, before exploding into a cloud of minute, black dust. Shining malevolently in the light, the dust hung in the air, unmoving, before speeding toward one point, seeming to form a shape. There was a loud booming sound, and from the air fell what seemed to be a black, metal object.

Warning no one else to go near, Link approached. It was small, no bigger than the palm of his hand, however, it was the shape which drew his eye. Closed within a circle was a sword, with the ghastly image of a large, human skull set in the pommel. With a trembling hand Link picked it up, nearly dropping it; where it touched him, even through his clothes, it felt as if he were burning. Meeting Zelda's eyes, Link could tell that she had no more idea about the strange medallion than he did, and he could feel several pairs of worried eyes boring into him, studying with a sort of sick fascination the symbol held in his hand.

However, as he pulled off his glove and touched it apprehensively with his bare skin, he felt something thrill through him which was frighteningly, terrifyingly, familiar.

A/N: Whee, chapter two. And here I was, worried this chapter would not even graze the 4,000 word mark. I am very, very, sorry that this chapter took so long to put up; you can see I have been working on some other things, but I promise I haven't been neglecting this, I've just suffered from an extreme—and I mean, extreme—case of writer's block with this. T_T

Anyway, that was so much fun to write (particularly the ending) so I hope it is as much fun to read. :)

- Naranne