So, based on the general consensus, I have decided this: I will continue on the path that I have paved out the entire time, the original ending that was planned. However, after everything is said and done and the epilogue is finished, I will allow you the gift of pretending like the entire ending never happened and while you sew the tattered pieces of your soul back together, you can read the fluffy ending to heal yourself. Or, if you'd prefer not to, you don't have to. Sound fair? I sure think so. We're getting so close to the end, guys. Ten chapters at the most…but then again, I'm terrible at estimating.
In the interlude in this chapter, I'm experimenting with something potentially awkward and creepy and strange and urgh, I don't understand why I ship them but I do I honestly do and they're only four years apart so it works and I am the almighty author so they have to do what I say. But let me know what you think anyway, because I am doubting myself.
Hope you enjoy the chapter!
~Alyssa
Primum corruent, tunc casum.
…
First the stumble, then the fall.
ox(O)xo
It took less than fifteen minutes for one of her minions to come and find me then, to escort me to where I would be staying from now on.
It was a splendorous place, after months of sleeping in a single cramped room with seven other boys on a bunkbed so thin I could feel the wooden rails of the supports underneath. Really, though, it was just a modest little room, thirty paces across at the most, the floor and walls bare except for a two mounted torches on either side of the wardrobe. Which, as I learned as I began to unpack my meager belongings inside, had a hidden panel in the back that could be pulled aside to reveal a secret passageway. Which, as I learned about five minutes after that, was an entrance to the fabled labyrinth of secret passageways that wound their way through Hyrule Castle.
But more specifically, a stone's throw from a similar entrance to said labyrinth in none other than the Queen's bedchamber, concealed by a conveniently translucent tapestry that was perfect for observing and not been seen.
The rest of the room, besides that that was taken up by the two empty bookshelves and a stiff wooden chair tucked away in the corner, was dominated by a very…sizable bed.
Which also happened to be extremely comfortable.
Which I had found out when Kassia had found me a half an hour or so later…When, of course, I had all but tackled her onto said comfortable bed after finding said tapestry and seeing things I should have never seen.
It was the first time I had ever done such a thing with her, but then again, it wasn't.
After all, how many times had I touched Kassia and pretended it was her instead? What was the difference in using her in a more intimate way? Not a thing. But that didn't matter to me, as long as she provided me with my distraction.
And what was the harm, if she wasn't any wiser?
Now that I lived in the castle, with her two hallways away—thanks to her father, she was easily able to obtain a job when we had first gotten here as a lady-in-waiting for visiting nobles—it would be just too easy to see her now, to have her help me now. With her, it was always too easy.
Perhaps that was the problem.
Or was the problem that I didn't care as long as I got what I wanted in the end?
"I still can't believe you won." She smiled, nudging me lightly with her elbow. We were still in lying down, tangled up in the sheets of my bed. "Sir Greenhero, huh? Isn't that something?"
The bubble of content that had erected around my aching heart abruptly popped, whatever small sense of normalcy I had been able to gain in the last two hours gone in an instant. Without her distractions to soften the blow, reality slapped me sharply back to my senses, reminding me again of who I was.
Though the rusty paring knife continued carving its way through my gut for the second time today, I returned her grin, winding my arms around her waist, pulling her close. Losing myself again in the expanse of silky soft skin of her neck, because how else would I be able to forget again? "Sure is," I muttered.
"You don't sound very excited," She observed, jumping lightly as my teeth grazed the sensitive spot behind her ear.
"I'm still just Nox," I murmured back, lying through my teeth.
Hell, when had I ever told her something that wasn't a lie?
For a brief second, I was disgusted at myself, furious at the unfairness of it all, the blatancy in which I was using her, the way I didn't care if she was hurt.
But the bubble was back the instant her lips touched mine, and that was all that mattered.
It could have been seconds or minutes or hours or days later, for all I knew, but eventually, a sharp knock on the door brought me back to the world, making us both jump.
"Nox?" a voice asked, instantly recognizable as Garrett, even with it muffled through the door. There was no mistaking that demeaning, disapproving tone that always accompanied my name.
I groaned, rolling swiftly out of bed and searching the floor for my discarded clothes. "Just a second!" I called, motioning for Kassia to disperse. She laughed quietly as I struggled with my pants, tiptoeing over to the corner where Garrett wouldn't be able to see from the door.
Another series of raps came from behind the door, and an oath slipped through my lips when I realized I had put on my pants the wrong way.
"I'm not getting any younger out here, boy…"
I made the change to my trousers as quickly as I ever had before, taking the time to frantically kick Kassia's dress underneath the bed. Her shoes and apron were thrown into the wardrobe, the rest of my clothes in it as well. My eyes scanned the rest of the room, a quick once over to make sure I hadn't missed anything.
Only to turn around with a sigh of relief and a 'Come in' dying on my lips.
Because, there was Garrett, leaning casually against the door frame, staring distastefully over my shoulder.
Where, of course, the sleeve of a light blue dress was just visible underneath the bed skirt.
Damn mages and their lock-picking spells.
I could feel the blush crawling up my neck as I turned back around, sheepishly meeting his slightly appalled gaze.
"I'm not interrupting anything, am—" For a moment, he was grinning, but as soon as my eyes met his, the smile melted right off his face. Confusion, apprehension, anger flashed across his face for a split second before he regained control of himself, lips suddenly pursed together in a line so tight it wasn't even there, all humor in his demeanor abruptly gone.
"Garrett, what's—"
"It's nice to see you," He grinded out through clenched teeth, obviously struggling to keep himself under control.
"It's good to see you, too," I replied quickly, completely baffled at his sudden mood swing. What had I done? What had he seen in my eyes that repulsed him so? "How are the others? The baby? Are they—"
"They're all fine." He said, cutting me off again. "I was going to—but never mind. I—I've got to go—I mean, congratulations on the win. We're all proud of you. Linden especially. Now, I've got to go." Only towards the end did he stop tripping on his words, backing away out the door.
"Wait!" I cried as he reached for the knob. "Garrett, where are you—"
But before I could get so much as another word out, the door was slammed closed, and he was gone.
"What was that about?" asked Kassia as she crawled underneath the bed to retrieve her clothes.
I scratched the back of my head, running my fingers through my hair, eyes not wavering from the door.
"I have no idea," I said.
ox(O)xo
The Glaive sat tersely around their room at the ramshackle inn in the slums of Castle Town. The silence of the place was unsettling, though each was too deeply involved in their own thoughts and worries to make an attempt of conversation. Only the children were oblivious to the tense atmosphere, Linden sitting quietly in the corner reading a leather-bound book, fingers trailing across the satin of the pages. Baby Finley gurgled contently beside her on a bundle of blankets, every so often waving a fat fist in the air, grasping for objects only he could see. The remains of the fire sputtered in the fireplace, neglected for hours and leaving the room with an uncomfortable chill that was very out of place for the beginning of summer. No one cared enough to fix it.
Wolfe, having showed up just a few minutes before (without so much as a 'hello, it's good to see you' from either Baxter or Zenith, he might add), had occupied a weathered armchair in the corner, stewing in guilt and indecision. He hadn't told anyone about his revelation with Evelyne a few days before, and now that Archer had informed him of Garrett's suspicions, he was even more worried for his brother.
It was one thing to have a secret involvement with the married (and pregnant, a fact of which Nox seemed oblivious to) Queen of one's country, but it was another thing entirely to be doing it with the aid of some ancient, cursed magic.
Thinking it over in his head, he felt ridiculous even thinking what he just had about Nox. Although he had only known him for a bit over a year, Wolfe thought he had a good understanding of who he was. Just a week ago, all Nox was was a simple man with a good fiancé and an even better family, content to have no standing in life and nothing to his name so long as he had those he loved—and he loved them all more than anything. His favorite color was green (although if you asked him on a bad day, he would adamantly say it was blue), and was a better-than-average swordsman. Sure, he was plagued with nightmares, and had slight trust issues, but those could all be explained, if one tried hard enough.
But now…now, Wolfe wasn't so sure he knew who Nox was any longer.
The way he had wielded his blade as if he was a seasoned war hero, with the confidence and steadiness that only comes from years of experience. The way he dominated the tournament, the way he had the audacity to kiss the Queen's hand. And now Garrett, sensing the evil magic all over him. It just didn't make sense. It couldn't be explained. No matter how identical in appearance this man was to the man they all knew and loved, there was no way they were the same. This man couldn't be Nox. Wolfe refused to believe it.
After what seemed like an age, the door slammed open, breaking the silence with the abrupt BANG, in walking the person they had been waiting for.
"I've got news, and you won't like it." Garrett muttered as he shed his traveling cloak, hanging it up on the rack along with his hat.
Baxter and Zenith stood quickly, their expressions a mess of concern, expectation, and relief—but mostly concern. "What's going on?" Baxter demanded.
"It's Nox. I just went to see him, and—"
A moment later, interrupting the mage, came Archer, his jaw squared and hair jet black, a faux scar stretching across his cheek that obviously drew inspiration from his own. Wolfe reached a hand up automatically, fingers trailing over the bumpy surface.
"I came as soon as I could." He panted, his appearance morphing back to normal before their eyes. "We're not supposed to leave the castle without permission. I had to sneak out. What's going on?"
"Garrett is angry at Nox." Linden informed him from her corner, eyes not wavering from her page. "But I don't know why." She paused, letting this sink in, and then continued to prattle. "Speaking of Nox, Baxter, when can we go see him?"
This, of course, was the last thing that any of them wanted to hear, but they couldn't easily tell the naïve girl that.
Baxter's eyes hardened as he turned around, forcing a smile onto his face. Wolfe had never seen the man less authentic. "Soon, princess." He promised. "Why don't you go down to the market, pick up what Zenith needs for dinner?"
"Why?" She challenged, standing up and crossing her arms. Every head in the room turned stiffly her way.
Wolfe was stunned. This bold young woman, standing there now with her brow knitted and her fists clenched, green eyes ablaze, was not the happy-go-lucky eleven year old girl they had left behind in Noamas. Anything but.
She had grown, Wolfe realized as he watched her stare down Baxter, chin raised defiantly. Several inches, in fact—whatever fat that remained from her childhood melting away to make up the difference. She had let her hair grow out as well; her once wild russet tendrils that were always smeared with dirt and debris now hung nearly to the small of her back, and styled so that her bangs were braided neatly away from her face, besides. She was even beginning to have a figure, for Nayru's sake, her snug dress clinging to the gentle slope of her waist, the tender swells of her breasts.
Where was the little girl who had taught him how to whistle with the thick blades of grass on the mountain side, who demanded he be her knight in shining armor as they traversed the secret places of Amex manor, who rolled around in the mud and did what she was told and would kill for the chance to go off on an adventure to explore a new, exciting town by herself.
Half a year they had been gone. Just six months. How could she have become so different? How could he not have noticed?
"Linden, please. Don't be difficult." Zenith said quietly, eyes downcast.
"Difficult?!" Linden exploded, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "You think I'm being difficult? I'm not stupid, you know! I have ears! I know you're just trying to get rid of me so you can talk about Nox! Did it ever occur to you that I care about him, too? That I want to know what's happened to him? Or do you think I'm still a naïve little six year old girl who needs to be protected by these things?" She snarled, and Wolfe, still safely in his corner, blushed with chagrin. Just a few moments ago, he had thought exactly that.
Baxter's eyes softened, guilt glistening very clearly in their watery grey depths. "Princess…"
"And don't call me princess! I'm not a baby anymore!" She snapped, stalking over to the door and grabbing an empty basket off the floor. "But since you seem to think so, I might as well just go. 'The grown-ups are talking,' right?" She laughed harshly, wrenching open the door and slamming it shut, leaving the group incredibly flustered. Finley squealed, confused, and Zenith went over to him, picking him up and resting his head on her shoulder, bouncing him lightly.
Archer opened his mouth to say something, but Baxter held up a hand, using the other to tiredly run his fingers through his hair. He turned to Garrett. "What were you saying?" He asked, sighing lightly.
"It's Nox." Garrett repeated, sitting down by the fire, resting his elbows on his knees. "There's no doubt about it now. He's been taken by dark magic."
Baxter's face darkened considerably. "You're positive?"
"No doubt." The mage said again. "This was my concern from the beginning. No one around him is safe anymore. We can't associate ourselves with him."
Zenith shook her head violently. "I refuse to just abandon him. There's got to be something we can do!"
"There's no way to know." Garrett said grimly. "Black magic is volatile. There's no way to predict what he'll do, when he'll lose it. If what Archer's told me is correct, he's already past the general point of no return—the coma, that was his body trying to fight it off, and based on his actions yesterday, he lost. The boy's done nothing but play with a stick in the backyard all his life, three months of training couldn't have turned him into that."
"…So you're saying he's going to die?" Zenith asked, voice little more than a whimper. She hugged her son close, burying her face in his downy auburn curls, hiding her tears. Baxter walked over, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
"Honestly?" the mage asked, ignoring Baxter's pointed glare. "It could be much worse. He's not himself anymore, so who knows what he'll do? It would be helpful if we knew what kind of magic we're dealing with, where he got it, or who gave it to him—"
"There's no way he did this on purpose." Wolfe spoke up from his corner for the first time, vicious protectiveness in his voice. "He's always been with me and Archer, we've never been separated for any length of time…and he was fine, when we were in Noamas, wasn't he?"
"Yes," Garrett confirmed. "But magic doesn't take long to obtain if you know where to look. Archer, Wolfe, think about it. When has he been alone, really alone, when no one would be able to interrupt him? It could be any length of time."
Wolfe was about to repeat himself, say yet again that there was no way, when Archer suddenly stood from his place by the door, clutching his head in his hands.
"SHIT!" he yelled, looking the equivalent of a child having a tantrum, face twisted with revelation. "I—he was—he was only in there for ten minutes!" He began to pace, shouting bits of sentences that made absolutely no sense to anyone else. "The cuts on his face—I didn't—I never—SHIT."
"What, Archer?" Garrett demanded, but was ignored, the meaningless babble still spewing from the young man's lips. "I can't believe—the fucking idiot, how could he have—I don't—"
Baxter strode over to him, forcefully grabbing him by the shoulders, shaking him in the process, forcing him to look him in the eye. He abruptly stopped talking. "WHAT, ARCHER?" Baxter roared, and Wolfe had never seen such fierceness in his eyes.
"HE BROKE THE MIRROR!" Archer shouted back, hair twisting in his fists, crimson eyes both grief-stricken and crazed. "HE BROKE THE MIRROR AND NOW HE'S AS GOOD AS DEAD!" Breaking free from the bigger man's grasp, he stalked over to the fire, sitting down and putting his head in his hands, hiding his face from the rest of them.
For a moment, no one spoke, dumbfounded by his response. And then,
"The mirrors that I'm thinking of?" Garrett asked tentatively, as if he wished with all his heart that the answer was no. "The…Vera Ostium?" The foreign words that sounded suspiciously like Sheikahn flowed from his tongue, and dread began to settle in Wolfe's gut.
Archer, past the point of words, nodded.
"What the Hell is going on?" Baxter demanded, rounding on Garrett, who shook his head sadly, slowly going back and forth. "What does that mean?!"
"It means," he said slowly, "There's an ancient ghost of a Sheikah with a vendetta bigger than you could possibly imagine who's hell-bent on destroying Hyrule in the most violent and bloody way possible…
And he's using Nox as a vessel."