A Note To New Readers:

Hey there! This story is currently undergoing some maintenance at the moment, and as such, what you have read up until this point may clash, be out of place or jump ahead/behind the chapters that follow. Please know that I am writing as fast as I can to rerelease these new chapters and believe me when I say that the story will be more concise and flow better, (not to mention be much more interesting from the get go). Please bear with me and enjoy nonetheless!

-Jack Knights

He'd found a blueprint of the castle in one of Ganondorf's journals, sealed with dark magic. Interestingly though, it had yielded to his touch. No doubt the spell would have done something far much worse to anyone else, he reasoned as he smoothed out the old parchment. Next to it lay a page full of carefully written names, times and places. It was the guards' schedule, from dawn to dusk and detailed their every movement and shift change. Gleaning this information had been no small task; Dagg had had to invent excuses as to why he dawdled in the hallways all over the Citadel and he wasn't particularly good at it. Twice he had used the same excuse—that he got lost on his way to the bathroom—on the same guard no less.

I can only pray that he hasn't discovered my plans yet, he thought to himself. Not that I know all that they entail myself. All he had planned out was to sneak out of his bedroom at three in the morning, make his way past the guards and down to the dungeons where he would ask about the boy and his mother. Dagg wasn't without his own tricks though; along with learning the schematics of the castle, he'd brushed up on his magic and was now capable at disappearing his body away completely. The spell, however, would only last until the sun rose or any bright source of light hit him.

Now back in his room, the blueprint stored in the false floorboard under the bed, along with the small pack he'd prepared for his excursion, Dag tried to calm himself by meditating. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, the curtains drawn shut and the door locked, he closed his eyes and paced his breathing. Before he could find his center, there was a bang on the door before it flew open and in stepped Ganondorf and the person who looked neither male nor female. He only had time enough to blink in surprise before Ganondorf was upon him, clutching him around the neck.

"You removed something from my study, insolent brat," he hissed as he throttled the man. "What did you take?"

"I-I took... nothing!" he gasped as he struggled for air. Ganondorf's grip tightened and his vision grew dim.

"Liar! The seal on my journals is broken!" he shouted, slamming Dagg into the wall. "I don't know how you did it, but it only proves that you took something you ought not have!"

"You never... restricted anything... from me," Dagg breathed. "I did read... them, but I put everything... back in order! I swear!" he added when Ganondorf narrowed his eyes and a trickle of magic sparked from his fingers to Dagg's neck. He's dangerously close to killing me... he realized. If his gamble was discovered now, the consequences would be painful, to say the least. He continued to struggle against the King's iron hold on his neck as his vision fading to black, but Dagg held firm to the lie he had told.

"He has a point; you never told him anything was off-limits," ventured the person by the door, speaking for the first time, their voice muffled. Ganondorf turned his wild eyes on them, but they held their ground. Gutsy... Dagg thought as he began to slip into unconsciousness. Suddenly, the pressure on his neck was gone and he crumpled to the ground in a heap, coughing for air.

"Yes... you are right," the King eventually admitted. Dagg looked up at him through watering eyes and saw that the rage was gone, but the scepticism was still there. "Nevertheless, if you ever go through my private things again, you will be punished."

Ganondorf left the room with a sweep of his crimson cape, but the heavily robed person stayed just inside the room. Without a moment's hesitation, they stepped to Dagg's side, put his arm over their neck and lifted the man to his feet. The androgynous person helped him reach the bed, where Dagg collapsed, exhausted. I doubt I can do anything tonight...

"Try to stay on his good side," they advised Dagg, who looked up at them in surprise. "And... if you are planning anything reckless, don't."

"He has a good side?" Dagg mused. If they had found his wise-crack funny, the cloaked person gave nothing away. After a few awkward minutes, they bowed slightly and ducked out of the room, closing the door behind them. Who is that person? Why did they help me? Aren't they sided with Ganondorf? Dagg let the questions run through his mind as he pushed the throbbing around his neck fade into the back of his mind. Oh well, it doesn't matter much. I might as well sleep off what pain I can; I am in no shape to go gallivanting through the castle. And with that last thought, Dagg finally let himself fall unconscious.

What are we going to do with her? Sid wondered that night around the campfire the Order had set up. He and the rest of the knights were currently eating their way through the wild boar one of the others had caught earlier in the day. He looked over his shoulder at the caravan, which had remained closed since the girl had holed herself up in it. Sid had taken her a plate of food, sure that she was as hungry as they were. But he had had no response. After several minutes, he sighed, telling her through the door that if she decided she was hungry, she would be fed.

When he had voiced his concerns, the rest of the knights had lost their jovialness and suddenly became stone-faced. Sid realized that they still did not trust him fully; having only been inducted into their ranks a few months prior and the youngest member to date, he understood their wariness towards him. He was young and inexperienced, and not to be trusted with anything other than orders. Despite knowing this, Sid couldn't help but feel annoyed at times when he was left out of the loop. And now was one of those times.

His appetite long gone, he threw what was left of his meal in the fire and stood. A second knight, his hair as grey as his eyes and as short as his beard, stood as well, eyeing him. "Sid, what's the matter?"

"I thought I'd take the first patrol, Commander Varne." The Commander was the only one of the group who hadn't been shown any sign of animosity towards the Hylian when he'd first joined their Order. In fact, Commander Varne was the one who had seen something in him as a young boy, agreeing to take him on when no other would, eventually vouching for him when he applied for knighthood. He thanked the man for it and did whatever he could to prove his sponsor right in choosing him.

"Very well," the elder Hylian said, his voice resonating with authority. "Borvo, you will take up after him," he said to a man with coffee-coloured skin, "and Alan, you after him."

Sid walked away before Varne could complete dictating his orders, having already been given his; or rather, his having been approved. That was one thing he had noticed about the Commander. The older man would give direct orders to everyone but him. He would ask Sid instead, wanting to know his thoughts on everything from tactics to encampments. To many on the outside, it appeared as though the elder Hylian was preparing the youth for a position of power.

Instead of going round the edges of the trees, Sid went right, to where the weapon's caravan stood, dark and looming. He had asked what they would need such a large shipment of weapons for, but the only answer he'd gotten was that there was a force to supply. The young Hylian assumed it was the Resistance they were secretly supplying, but bit his tongue. If it was true, then they were committing an act of heresy. If the King ever found out… he shivered at the thought.

As the rounded the carriage, he found much to his surprise that the door was wide open. He cursed himself and dashed towards it, peering inside its dark interior. He saw nothing, so when the lance came at him from the dark, Sid had barely just enough time to lean back as it speared the air where his head had been. Before it could retract, he grabbed the shaft of the weapon and yanked on it firmly. With a squeal of surprise, the girl came tumbling forward, the other end of the lance falling from her hands.

Because of the height of the caravan, she careened off the last step, about fall face first for the second time that day. Luckily, Sid's reflexes were faster and he caught her about the middle, slinging her over his shoulder. A noise of surprise escaped her throat, followed by a string of oaths that brought a blush to his cheeks. She was nothing if not creative. Throwing the lance inside, he kicked the door of the carriage shut and slid the bolt into place with his free hand.

At this point, the girl had begun punching him in the back, demanding to be let down. Sid took it in stride, or at least as best he could, given the situation. A brief pain flared from the back of his head and he cursed, stamping his foot loud enough to make his armour jingle.

"Hey! Stop pulling out my hair!" he shouted angrily, losing his patience.

"Then put me down, you ass!" she screamed in retort. Sid narrowed his eyes to slits, and with a glance at the camp to make sure no-one had seen or heard them, he dropped her to the floor, where she continued to swear worse than his most boorish companions. "What in the seven hells is—"

"You want to leave, fine!" he cut her off and to his surprise, her mouth snapped shut to a thin line. "Just make sure you head off in that direction; the enemy's strongest over that way!"

"What are you talking about? I don't want to die!" she fumed, going red in the face.

"You jest, surely! If not, why have you cause your saviours such trouble otherwise?" he demanded. She fell quiet for a minute and he threw his hands up in disgust, stalking off into the dark.

"No-one asked you to save me," he barely heard her say.

I'm beginning to wish we had done otherwise, he thought acidly as he began his rounds.

It turns out Sheik's assumption that the forest was the safest escape route was wrong. The torchlight had been a ploy; the search groups had planted them in the ground, while they hid in the shadows, waiting for their enemy. Immediately after he broke through the first leaves, crossbows fired, and Sheik barely had enough time to. Suddenly, he was assaulted by the arrows, coming from every possible direction. He realized that the archers had formed a semi-circle around the end of the forest and he had been forced smack-dab into the middle of it by the parties on the beach. Now, caught in the crossfire, Sheik cursed his stupidity yet again.

Cunning bastards, he smirked as another volley of bolts soared over him. He crawled along the ground, dashing from tree to bush and back again, trying to figure out the positions of the archers. As he dove into a bush, his foot suddenly caught on a wire and a net snapped up around him, sending the Sheikah flying into the trap with a shout. He reached for one of his many hidden knives and slashed his way through the net, dropping unceremoniously to the dirt as the archers launched another attack.

I'll say it again, they're cunning, he thought miserably. I wonder if any of them aren't Sheikah?

The arrows were still coming too fast and form too many directions for him to judge with any certainty where they were coming from and Sheik cursed his bad luck. Sheik turned his gaze skywards, to swear at the moon, surprised when he didn't see it. The thick foliage of the trees hid the night sky completely. A grin slowly made its way onto his face as he quickly scaled a tree, dodging bolts as he went. It was safe to assume that, if he couldn't see the stars, then anything above the trees couldn't see into the forest.

He broke through the foliage with a well-placed jump, soaring through the night sky. He nearly sang his delight when the whistle of a single arrow reached his ears. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see a bolt, about a foot long with green fletching fly at him. Unable to twist his body in midair, the arrow slammed into his back, forcing a cry from the Sheikah. His forward momentum lost, Sheik plummeted to the ground as his vision faded.