Zelda sat on an overturned bench, uncomfortable in her disguise but too upset to care. Her wrapped fingers rubbed at tired eyes as she stared across the room at Link's body.
The villagers, having defeated the outnumbered Gerudos with relative ease, had moved the Hero's corpse into the abandoned potion shop, the only building left untouched. The Gerudos had used it as their headquarters.
No one had done anything to prepare the body for burial. No one had done much at all since recapturing the village. The shock of the Hero's death had finally settled over the distraught Hylians, and they sat quietly in clusters throughout the decimated town, mourning their hopeless future.
Zelda sighed, looking down at the floor and trying to concentrate on anything but Link. Her mind refused to cooperate, and in the blankness of grief presented her with dark images of his death. The pounding of the rain over the shop roof conjured memories of the fall of Hyrule Castle, and brought forward the nightmares about her father.
A knock on the door caused her to jerk unsteadily to her feet. She stumbled over the bench and grabbed the doorknob, yanking it toward her. A very startled looking young woman stood in the dim daylight, blue hair soaked by the rain.
Sheik stared blankly at her.
"I..." she looked around, "May I enter?"
The pleading look in her eyes convinced Sheik, and he stepped aside, offering her a view of the counter where Link's body had been placed. The woman murmured in faint sadness as she moved past the Sheikah.
The stranger crossed the room to stand by Link's side, leaning over him.
"You poor child," she stroked his hair, "this was never meant to happen."
"Excuse me," Sheik said in an absurdly loud voice.
The woman turned, alarmed.
"Who are you."
She sighed, "A friend."
"I'm afraid that stopped being good enough when he died," Sheik answered, harsh words bitter even to his ears.
"Ah," she glanced at the floor, lovely face contorted with guilt, "Of course."
Sheik considered attacking the stranger out of pure malice, but held back.
"I cannot blame you for your distrust," the blue-haired woman pressed her hands together nervously, "I am so very sorry for your loss, Princess."
Horrified, Zelda backed up a step, flattening herself against the closed door. A knife slid from her wristguard into her palm.
"What did you say?" she muttered.
The woman's blue eyes began to glow, "You are safe with me, Princess Zelda of Hyrule."
Zelda felt her triforce mark begin to spark. Its glow brightened at a furious pace and the familiar sensation of her disguise melting away tickled her skin. The glow faded and she looked down at her female body, blue dress falling neatly around her legs.
She stared up at the newcomer, stark panic overtaking her senses.
"Who... what...?" she stammered, eyes wide.
The woman moved quickly to grasp Zelda's hand, looking into her eyes in earnest.
"You need not fear me," the stranger's voice was layered with power, "I am the one who gave you this."
Her fingers traced the triforce mark gently. The mark gleamed briefly in response.
Zelda's gaze snapped from her hand to the stranger's glowing blue eyes. The princess sank to her knees, eyes downcast.
"Goddess Nayru," she breathed, "I..."
Nayru caught her by the arms with strong hands and lifted her back up. Zelda almost expected a reprimand, or to be punished for allowing Link to be killed. Instead, the goddess wrapped her arms around Zelda's shoulders, embracing her.
"We did not mean for this," Nayru whispered sadly into Zelda's ear, "I have felt your pain, and you must know the fault lies with me, not with you."
"But..." Zelda felt tears threaten again, wondering if she had gone mad with grief, "I left him..."
"I allowed you to," Nayru said firmly, "Had you stayed, you would have both been killed, and Ganondorf would have obtained the Triforce."
Zelda pulled away sharply, "You knew he would die?"
Nayru shook her head sadly, glancing over her shoulder at the fallen Hero. She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked back at Zelda.
"I have presented myself to you only to offer my condolences. I have little time to prevent this kingdom's downfall. In the meantime, fate will be unguarded. Protect yourself, Princess. I will not be able to."
A swirling column of blue magic surrounded the goddess, and she faded away before Zelda could respond. Left alone once again, the princess leaned against the door and let herself slide to the ground. A distinct lack of pain told her her wounds had been completely healed.
"But... you left Hyrule," she said to the air, "you abandoned us..."
The dim glow of the mark on her hand suggested otherwise.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts, looking back up at Link. The empty feeling in her chest returned in a burst of pain, and she suddenly felt the need to leave the shop, the village, the region.
Transforming again in a much slower display of power, Zelda built a transportation spell between her hands. As soon as her disguise was complete, she released the spell with a blaze of grey-purple magic.
The light surrounded her as her mind emptied of thought, lulled into peace by the traveling energy.
Nayru reappeared in the Kakariko Cemetery, sensing three distinct presences there. Two were poes, the third was the last Sheikah. The goddess, standing just inside the wooden gateway, watched the woman unnoticed.
Impa sat on the royal memorial marker, shoulders hunched in a rare display of weakness. Her silver hair had been let down, and she had discarded several pieces of her armor.
Nayru began to move quietly toward her, pausing when the Sheikah spoke.
"Who's there?" she asked without turning.
"A friend," Nayru answered.
A long moment passed, but Impa did not turn around. The Sheikah finally sighed, rubbing her forehead.
"So you've returned."
"You know we never truly left," Nayru said quietly.
"But you took your time to intervene," Impa responded, voice hoarse.
Nayru walked to stand beside the monument, glancing up at Impa's face. Recent tears had left thin trails of water down the woman's face, streaking over the tattoos beneath her eyes to gather under her chin.
"I am sorry, Impa. I am afraid I may have caused this."
"May?" Impa echoed, "If I had remained with the other Sages instead of returning here..."
"I may have given you ill advice, yes."
"May again," Impa snorted disrespectfully, "we both know you threw off the course of fate by bringing me back here."
Nayru went silent, unable to think of anything to say. The Sheikah was right. There remained only one or two options for restoring the balance, and any choice the goddess made would be dangerous.
"So what now?" Impa asked, "The final Sage remains unawakened, and considering her current situation, it's unlikely that will ever change."
"And... the princess is aware that she is---"
"Yes."
Nayru accepted this interruption with little umbrage, though she was saddened by Impa's apparent hatred for her. She waited for the Sheikah to speak again.
"I'm sorry, my lady," came Impa's tired voice, "I... I have never felt so helpless. Please understand."
"I do."
Impa nodded.
"As for the plan," Nayru continued, "I fear I am alone in crafting it."
Impa looked down at the goddess, shocked, "Your sisters will not aid you?"
Nayru cleared her throat, an unfamiliar act which caused her to hesitate, "I... Farore refuses to release the Hero's soul. She is... dying."
Impa's mouth opened slightly.
"And Din..." Nayru glanced away at the graveyard.
"Oh, hells," Impa buried her face in her hands, seeming to realize Nayru's implication. The Sheikah ran her hands through her hair, groaning in useless frustration.
After a long moment of contemplation, Nayru looked back to her companion. Meeting her gaze, Impa leapt down from the memorial. She straightened her posture and took a deep breath.
"What can I do, Goddess?"
"You will not like this..."
"The time for personal preferences has long past."
Nayru searched Impa's eyes and found the warrior was not lying.
"I need you to pay a visit to an old friend."
The goddess watched as the Sheikah's face drained of color. Impa looked momentarily to the ground, then back into Nayru's eyes.
"You were right. I don't like this at all."
"If all goes according to plan, the result will mean a pure sacrifice with which to save Farore."
"Thus Hyrule."
Nayru nodded, "There is a trapped soul beneath the fortress. I will follow you until you have freed it."
Sighing, Impa pushed silver hair from her eyes, "Alright. I'll go."
The rain was pouring down over Hyrule Field as Zelda's transportation spell placed her beneath a tree. She glanced around at the deserted area, turning to face the enormous wooden structure behind her.
Behind their fences, the cheerily colored buildings of Lon Lon Ranch seemed bizarrely incongruous in the ruins of Hyrule. Zelda checked her soaked disguise and moved silently toward the gateway.
Though she had shadowed Link to the ranch many times, she had never met its occupants face to face. It had been years since the Hero had last set foot inside the farmstead, and it was possible he had been long forgotten. Zelda wondered fleetingly wether she had sent herself on a fool's errand.
Edging around the gate's wooden support posts, the princess held back her thoughts of Link and the past. As she willed her sadness to turn itself to resolve, she focused on the task at hand.
The green hill before her led to a cluster of buildings. Zelda ducked behind a crate as a middle-aged man with dark hair exited the stables to her right. He paused in the doorway, glancing at the rainy heavens, then jogged quickly to another closed door across the way. He rushed inside, swearing at the weather.
Zelda darted out from behind the crate and pressed into the stable door, opening it a crack. A low voice reached her ears, humming softly.
She slipped inside the warm, dry building, careful not to rustle the excess hay around her feet. As she turned to face the interior of the stable, a horse snorted at her in confusion. She leaned around a corner, searching for the source of the bittersweet song.
A young woman with orange-red hair leaned against a wood beam, humming as she brushed the horse standing in front of her. The horse grunted nervously and leaned to one side, likely aware of Zelda's presence. As the trainer moved to shush the animal, her body was visible in the newly created gap.
Zelda whipped her head back around the corner, leaning against the door in shock. Beneath the woman's white tunic had been the distinct curve of an unborn child. Her mind flying through a list of possible fathers, Zelda tried furiously to banish heart-wrenching thoughts of Link. The horse at the end of the aisle let out another snort, eye on the disguised princess.
"What, Renaldo?" came a silvery voice from behind Zelda. The red-haired young woman stepped into view, reaching for the horse's nose.
"You're such a ham," she muttered. The animal pulled his nose free, tossing his head in Zelda's direction. The princess stepped away from the door.
The redhead turned, then froze. For a brief moment, her blue eyes stared directly into Sheik's, defiant fear shaping her features. The patter of rain overhead broke the silence. Sheik took a step forward.
"You are Malon," the Sheikah opened his hands in a display of peace.
Her head turned slightly in distrust, "Yes. Who are you?"
"My name is Sheik. I believe... we have a mutual friend," he finished weakly.
Malon's eyes brightened somewhat, and her posture relaxed, "Oh, yes. Link told me about you. Said he owed you his life."
Sheik flinched at the words, but remained calm, "I, ah... I am here on his behalf."
"Oh," she smiled, wiping her hands on her apron, "Well, always good to hear from him. What's he up to, anyway?"
The Sheikah took a deep breath, glancing at Malon's rounded middle.
"We should find somewhere to sit down."
Nabooru sat at the end of a wooden table, fuming. She slammed her fist on the surface before her, the sound echoing through the empty mess hall. Groaning, she placed her head in her hands.
She was dangerously close to losing her opportunity for rebellion. Ganondorf had apparently taken up with some young upstart whom Nabooru had never seen before. The girl had convinced him to travel to the desert hideout, for some reason. Though the king's absence would allow Nabooru to slip unnoticed from the palace, his sudden trust in this young warrior was cause for alarm.
Nabooru toyed with a bracelet, trying to calm herself. She failed utterly and instead stood up, driven to pace the stone floor.
If the little whore could win Ganondorf's confidence, Nabooru's usefulness would quickly reach an end. Once this happened, it was only a matter of days before the king decided to have her killed.
She growled at the thought of being bested by a younger woman, especially one who flouted Gerudo custom by wearing her hair down.
A knock on the door caused her to look up. An older Gerudo stood hesitantly against the stone frame, a nervous look in her eyes.
"Yes?" Nabooru stopped pacing.
"Mistress Nabooru," the warrior bowed hastily, "the rider you sent to Kakariko..."
"Has not returned?"
"No."
"Perfect," Nabooru muttered, stalking around the table to brush past the elder woman. No doubt the villagers had successfully revolted. The Gerudo leader supposed she would be blamed for this as well.
"I told him," she said angrily to her subordinate as they moved through the halls, "we should have stayed there overnight. One attack wasn't enough to break them."
"Of course, my lady," the soldier agreed mindlessly.
"Gather the archers," Nabooru snapped, "we'll end this now."
"Yes, my lady," the older woman turned down an adjoining hallway.
Nabooru paused for a moment, considering her plan. As she watched her soldier walk away, a curious idea began to infect her thoughts.
"Wait," she called.
The warrior turned back, awaiting a command.
"Return to your post," Nabooru said decisively, "tell no one of this."
"My... lady?" the Gerudo's face displayed hopeless confusion.
"Trust me."
"I... alright," she scratched the nape of her neck, "I do trust you, Nabooru."
Nabooru smiled, "Good."
As the other woman retreated down the candlelit hall, Nabooru continued on her way to the stables. Her thin smile hovered on her lips. She would personally see an end to the revolt. She could only hope the Hylians would honor a white flag.