Coin-Operated

15.0

Those Big Skies Won't Betray Us

It's quiet. It's eerie. Fog rolls across the fields.

His squire is at his side, and he can't help the wave of guilt rolling in his stomach. Having just turned fifteen and in his second year of serving, Link can't shake the idea that he's not ready. His work on the field last year was so tame in comparison; they'd spent another couple of months attempting to sort out the map-making conundrum of the Lost Woods, without much success, before returning to court to participate in tournaments. This year, however, they are locked in war.

Camp has been set up along the eastern front in Calatia, and the Hyruleans wait to begin their siege on the nearby castle and city. Tents are sprawled along the field to form their makeshift community. Link claps his squire on the back and tells the boy to follow him. Fires have been started, and the other men are cooking meals for their growling bellies. Colin, his squire, looks on at some of the roasting game with envy. He's told to keep to attention, and the boy sheepishly nods. Her tent is one of the largest set up in the camp. Link pulls aside the flap, and his squire slips in before him.

She's sitting at a makeshift desk overlooking a map of the front when the knight master and squire enter. Queen Zelda, dressed in her sapphire tunic, smiles when she sees them. "Good evening," she greets. "I've casted a ward around the tent. Anything said here stays between us, understood?"

Link glances over to his squire as he bows before their queen. The boy, who still gets frozen with nerves when seeing the queen, is forced to bend over by his master. The queen doesn't take offense to the boy's actions, and she laughs softly in amusement.

Out of everybody in the world, one of the last people Link had expected to become privy to his affair was the young squire, and the knowledge has only seemed to make the poor child more frightened of the queen. It's not as if she is going to bite his head off, but the knowledge makes him uncomfortable. The boy already tries his hardest not to disappoint his knight master, and Link can tell that he now strives to prove himself to the queen more so than before he got caught up in their unconventional courtship. Link doesn't blame the boy in the least. Colin is timid by nature, but he eagerly tries to compensate for it in his training, something which Link can appreciate, even if the boy is making it harder for himself.

The queen motions for the young squire to come and sit next to her, and he does, albeit with some shaking. Still young and growing, his awkwardness and nerves are exponentially worse in the presence of the queen. He fidgets. The knight and his squire go over the topography of the land with the queen as she starts to formulate new strategies using little blocks of wood with markings to indicate her troops and enemy locations and possible moves. When she notices the squire drifting from attention and trying to stifle yawns, she sends him on his way.

Link, however, takes this dismissal for himself as well. She calls to him as they exit her tent. Colin stops and looks uncertainly between his master and the queen. The queen waves him off and tells him to get a good rest in before morning.

Zelda turns to him when the tent flaps close. Within the tent are no candles to illuminate the dark space. Instead, little, pale yellow balls of light hang around the tent like stars close to home. If he wants, he's sure that he could reach out and poke one. Touch it. Feel it. With Colin gone, she lets the façade drop. Her posture sinks a little, and circles rim under her eyes that he didn't notice before. With one fatigued hand, she waves away all the lights, and they extinguish themselves.

He's left in the dark with the queen.

It takes a minute or so for his eyes to attempt to readjust to the darkness. Her slim figure worms its way through the tent, and he can just catch the barest glimpse of the movement. Link is hesitant to move himself. There are lots of shapes in the dark that he can barely make out, but he's unfamiliar with them – which just makes it worse - and instead worries a little of making himself a fool banging into things. The queen seems to navigate just fine in the dark to her bedroll. Link, however, is totally lost, his eyes unable to fully adjust to the overwhelming, overbearing darkness.

"Where are you?" he asks.

She laughs a little to his left where he saw her figure disappear into the black shadows of the night. "Come find me," teases the queen. What a devil she is. He groans a little at the prospect.

Where was everything again? Dammit.

"Like I could."

"Oh, what's that now?" she taunts. "Where's your magic?"

"Not here," he laughs. "I can't do the things you do."

Link sighs and starts to shuffle his way in the dark. Gods damn the queen! How far is he from the table? The queen's laughter bubbles up when he hits the chair. He mutters curses and insults her way, but Queen Zelda pays it no mind, especially when it crescendos after she tosses one of her boots at him. If he could find his way out, he would, dammit. He trips over the stupid pieces of leather, adding additional insult to injury. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

She is just having too much fun.

"Can I get a hint?" he groans. "I can't even see to get out of here."

"Exit's that way," she says with good humor. Din, what way? He whines about it, stumbling into… something else. The queen shoots off another tiny ball of light. It illuminates some of the objects as it flits past, but it's too fast for him to catch. The light is extinguished once it strikes the canvas of the tent.

Instead of going out the exit like he's threatened numerous times at this point, he manages, in his mind by miracle, to find her in the inky darkness. She squeals a little when he captures her in his arms.

"What's with you tonight?" he questions as she tries to squirm away from him. He lets her go.

The queen replies, "I don't want to think about tomorrow anymore."

He's not sure how to respond. "Then… don't?"

Her husky chuckle reaches his ears. "Easier said than done," she informs him. "Stay with me? It's a lot harder if I'm by myself."

"It's either that," he says with false venom in an attempt to humor her, "or be tripped trying to find my way out.

"I don't want to think about it either, though," Link admits.

"Oi."

The pair lapses into silence, and eventually Link kicks off his boots and feels around for the blanket. He sidles up next to the queen and wraps himself around her.

Her voice is soft, betraying her front of strength and power. "What do you think will happen?"

"I have no idea," he whispers. "I just hope the boy makes it out."

It takes her a moment, but she replies in agreement. Colin is young, but he would have everything stripped from him in the coming morning.

"And the men?"

"Enjoying what they've got, as they should."

"Are you?"

Her slyness makes him laugh. "I am, thank you."

"I'm going to sleep," the queen declares. There's a sharp intake of air, and then it rattles from her as she struggles not to let it go as she picks her next words. "When I wake… you'll still be here, right?"

"Right."

"And the day after?"

"Every day after."

The coming dawn doesn't bring a let up in the fog. Atop her horse, the queen scowls as she scans the fields as the Hyruleans march forward, away from camp. She growls to Link, "Can't even see farther than a quarter of a league." She calls forward one of her commanders as knights and archers pass them by like water around rocks. Link turns a deaf ear to their conversation and instead takes a mild interest in watching as a trebuchet is moved across the foggy plains.

"Link?" calls the queen, and he looks up to her. "Are you alright?" The commander trots off and starts directing men.

"Fine, milady."

"Where's the boy?"

"I left Colin back at camp with Epona."

She closes her eyes briefly and breathes in deep. "I will pray for his safety in all this."

Link smiles a little.

Queen Zelda holds out her hand to him, and Link takes it, squeezing it tight. He relishes the moment, and tries to commit her touch to memory as he watches the troops file past.

"Take up your bow," the queen commands.

…

His eyes click open, and Link looks around. He's a little surprised to see that in front of him is a mane of red hair instead of blonde pulling away from him. With one hand he reaches out and touches her face. He sees his fingers make contact with her cheek, but there's no feeling, no sensation come from the touch. If there is one thing he truly missed, it was the ability to feel things. Really feel. He can see, he can hear, he can even speak, but the feeling of fabrics, of the grass underfoot, of concrete and brick… He is either ignorant, or he can't remember it at all. Even amputees who have lost a hand or both still have the capacity to feel something touching them. He has hands, but what's the use of them if the textures of the world are now so foreign to him?

He looks over, and there she is, still asleep next to him. Zelda's chest rises and falls under twisted sheets, and he has to wonder what she thinks of him now.

He had been dreaming again. For a moment, when his eyes close, he can still see his queen in the midst of battle. Her voice carrying over the cries of the knights from atop her horse. There were flickering, fleeting moments he saw his brother in those dreams, though the bulk of his dreaming was spent reliving his queen's last siege, and he chalks it all up to having shared another memory. What he can't make sense of though is that this didn't happen when he shared memories with the light spirits. He's never told her, but the reason he gave the spirits his memories in the first place was a way to ensure his longevity, as depraving and bleak as that may seem. Each memory is another piece of himself, a piece of his own lost magic.

Marin slowly raises her hand to meet his. He can see the way her fingers curl around his prosthetic limb, but once again, the feeling is totally lost on him. Foreign. Marin's face crumples, eyes brimming with salty tears, and her mouth stretches into a fine frown. With one last look at his companion, he rises from the bed and slips out of the room with the redhead. The door clicks shut softly behind them. Zelda doesn't even stir.

"Go for a walk?" Marin asks him, pulling herself together.

He shrugs. Why not? She's already turned him on.

"So you followed us back?" he asks as she starts to lead the way into town. It's a little amusing. Just a little. "Did you pick the lock?" he wonders aloud.

Marin doesn't answer him, but he assumes the answer to both questions is a "yes".

Eventually, she slows so she can walk next to him. Her arms are folded across her chest. He glances around the empty street of Kakariko, and Link taps Marin on the arm. She stops walking. "What time is it?" he asks.

"Around two," she says, and he nods.

She sighs and looks away as she slips one arm through his. This. He isn't used to this with her. It's strange. Unfamiliar. "What's the matter?" asks Link. Lewd comments and inappropriate advances, he is used to. If only he were a real man. Flesh and blood. Right? He's always known that it didn't mean much due to his condition, but he's also known that there was some merit behind all the teasing. What did anybody really expect though? He was a mechanical abomination after all.

"What's the point?" she growls, and he's a little taken aback with her tone.

The point? Of this walk? Of his existence? Of hers? What's the point of anything, really? He's existed now for a few hundred years, and nothing really changes. Nothing changes at all. How perpetually boring. People are just as callous, silly and careless as before when he was actually human. Even Link is not exempt from this. He tossed aside lives before, thrown aside emotions with abandon. He's cheated and lied, this Link cannot deny. How else was he to continue to exist?

Exist. Right. That's the correct word for this. Existing is simply not the same thing as living is at all.

"You're not a hassle, Link," the redhead promises him. "Or a burden."

"I never said I was."

Marin gives him a sharp glare. "Link," she sighs.

"I believe that I can be human again," he tells her with a conviction he isn't totally sure that he actually has.

This makes Marin blink and her jaw slackens a little. She's in total disbelief. "What? How?" Is that a little hint of, dare he think, hope?

But how indeed.

"I… I don't know!" he confesses. "I just know that… that it's possible now." Gut feelings… is this one of them? Not having an actual gut for decades and decades kind of makes the term a bit archaic, or is that not the word he's looking for? However, if he is being truly honest, he'd tell Marin this hinged on Zelda and her magic… his magic, but Marin seems to understand anyway that this has something to do with the blonde. Suddenly Marin's original question makes more sense to him in this light.

Huh.

Wonders never cease. Right?

Marin is rough around the edges, sure, but Link realizes that she is actually quite delicate. Her work with the carnival was superficial at best. She teased men who willingly paid her. Her voice is her blessing, but it was wasted on the handsy drunks that eagerly threw her rupees. It hardened her and crushed her inside. And it was probably all his fault- no. It was completely his fault. What kind of self-deluded dolt would he be if he cannot own up to such a grievous offense? She followed him deep into the carnival lifestyle not knowing or understanding the truth of what he actually is until it was much too late, and she'd been caught up in the whirlwind of the carnival.

She is but one of many whom he has stepped on without much thought. Careless as ever, that's what he is.

So here they are at their stalemate.

She sees right through him, Marin. Her eyes narrow, and she demands from Link the absolute truth. "Because of that girl?" she bites.

Thank Farore he isn't a real man with flesh and blood. He'd likely seize up under her scrutinizing gaze. Instead, he stares back, stoic.

Let's be honest though. "I can't leave her," Link tells her.

"Link-"

"Do you really want to hear the honest truth, straight from Nayru, Marin?"

She sucks in a breath, and her eyes widen a little. Her eyelids flutter a little. Marin doesn't respond verbally to him though.

"It's not about keeping myself operating." Hardly. Sure, it is a nice perk of having her around, but he isn't even completely honest with Zelda. He dodges her bullets until she gives up and deflects inquiries with half-truths. No, it was hardly about keeping her around to keep functioning in this body.

Link knows without any shred of doubt that he needs her even down to the basic level; without her, he just might unravel. He won't admit that to her though. At least not now. Hence his half-truths and sidestepping. From the moment he saw Zelda, however, he knew who she was. The golden magic leaking from Zelda's core was the giveaway he'd been waiting for. It took ages for her to come back to him. He's assured her before that she wasn't a replacement, but in some convoluted way, he supposes that was a lie as well. Or was it the truth after all? Is she one person or two?

Nayru! Why is everything so complicated?

There's a little piece of him that whispers to him how he must be delusional after all, but he just brushes it aside.

Complicated.

Yes. Right.

"I love her," he admits. Always had. Always will. Zelda has changed over the years, but at the core she is still the same. Her voice has changed, her eyes are different. She isn't a Harkinian in the least, but she has that look, that disposition, that enigma to her that his princess, his queen had. For Nayru's sake, she even has the same name – a fluke, at best, but still. Nothing truly changes. His conviction and his loyalty hasn't changed, and he says, "I need to keep her safe." He failed her once before; he replays that moment often enough, but he won't fail her again.

Marin pulls back. "And how long do you think this whole thing is going to last?"

Link shrugs. Marin has a point. Will this awful dystopia end with the current president? Or does he have successors in place to ensure the continued fear and suppression of the state? How far will the bounds against magic stretch? Until there's nothing left for the people to work with? Link also has to wonder how much time Zelda has on this earth. How likely it is that he'll find her again in her next life, should things come to that, Farore forbid. The uncertainty of it all is just an itch he can't scratch, which is altogether another strange concept to him.

What does an itch actually feel like?

Marin looks skeptical at best. She refolds her arms and stares at her shoes.

"I'm sorry, Marin." And he is. While he is relieved to know she made it out from the fire and the squads with little harm, he was originally relieved that his burden with her was gone. Marin's sudden reappearance in his life – existence, rather - has put that added weight back on. Farore knows, he was happy to just shed this whole thing from himself after the fire rather than deal with it. Coward.

Sometimes, he actually hates being honest. It's easier to tell lies at times, and this is certainly one of those times.

The way she looks at him now tugs at a heart that no longer exists. He has no organs, no blood. He has a careful system of gears, tubing and wiring within him. Other than that, he is an empty shell. Maybe if he wasn't so callous and cold, he would have realized what he was doing to the poor girl before she signed her life away to the carnival. The fact, though, is that he is. Link is just that cold.

An image of his brother, Sir Raven, comes to mind.

Link can't help the feeling of bitterness that comes along with Raven and his family. Goddesses. He'll need some other help if he ever comes to face them for judgment after what transpired between him and his family, because any soft spot he has left is reserved for the queen. Or Zelda. Or are they one in the same?

Didn't he already try to define that?

Marin squeezes her eyes shut, trying to suppress the stinging in her eyes. "Link-" she tries, but he won't have it.

"If I stay, I'll only bring you trouble." This is the truth. Honest.

"Then why bring her trouble?"

Link shakes his head. She doesn't understand. "This goes deeper than you think, Marin."

She tries to convince him that he'll be fine, but he doesn't believe it. He knows it's not true, and somewhere deep down, Marin has to know it too. It's just not possible. If he were to stay, he'd be a sitting duck, and he didn't want to even think of the possibilities of where that would land Marin and Darunia. There just aren't any good outcomes. He can only imagine the kind of frenzy that would stir if anybody realized his most basic truth at this point. No longer can he parade around with the freaks of the world on show for the oddity that he is. This is not a time to showboat his strangeness. It would just be an utter wreck if Ghirahim's force knew that magic tied him to a machine.

There aren't any good outcomes ever it seems like.

"Is that all, Marin?" It's a little cold, but Link doesn't think he can really afford to coddle her ego much more.

Marin shrugs.

He reiterates, "I really am sorry."

She cracks him a rueful smile. Unfolding her arms, she takes hold of his suspenders and pulls her to him. He can't tell without any doubt, even with his eyes open, but he's sure she brings her lips to his. When she pulls away, she laughs lightly to herself.

"Your skin feels so weird," she tells him.

"If only I was real."

"If only."

…

Link slips back into the room, careful not to disturb Zelda. When the door shuts, he sees her still on the bed, eyes closed and breathing steady. Her chest rises and falls slowly. With that little stream of moonlight falling on her face, she reminds him of his queen from so long ago. Her hair is darker and her eyes are different, but she has that delicate look to her that's so deceiving.

Link goes to sit down in his chair, but he quickly thinks better of it. If she woke up at all and saw him on the bed, she'd know something was up… hm. Link hopes that she never noticed him missing to begin with, but judging by the heavy state of sleep, he feels at least assured she never stirred during his outing. He settles himself back on the bed and lets his head rest against the headboard. Zelda shifts slightly from the sudden movement of the mattress, but other than that, she doesn't seem to have noticed anything at all.

Yes, he'll do what he can for her, that much he is sure of.

He mutters, more to himself than to her, "What am I going to do with you?"

Link frowns a little.

The clock shows it's just after three in the morning.

He wiggles his feet around. Of course there's nothing. No cracking of joints. No pull of the muscles in his calves.

Link looks back to Zelda, still tangled in sheets as he left her. Careful to watch himself, he pushes aside the tendrils of gold from her face and forehead. Her nose scrunches a little, and he almost laughs aloud. There's only a slight crackle in the speaker box. He touches a finger to her forehead and lets it trail down to her chest, right above her steady beating heart, one that he cannot feel.

He told her once, he's sure, that he didn't have any magic. It was sort of a lie – there he goes again. Inwardly, he scoffs at himself. She valued his honesty so much before… is it really protecting her now to hide things? He ponders it for only a little bit with no real conclusion. She has her secrets now, and so does he. He has no idea what all she does when he's turned off, though he has plenty of suspicions and the only one to hold any merit was the spirits gifting her his memories. She's even neglected to turn him on in favor of doing these other things. Whatever they are or were. The fact of the matter is, he does have magic. He just doesn't have magic that's effectively useable. Most of it is tied up in containing his spirit in his current body, but he can spare just a little to give her a memory of one of his darker hours, and he can spare just a little more to check up on her.

Link can see her core. The gold magic has swelled. He's certain that the only person he's ever encountered to have a larger core than her may have been Malladus. Her core has certainly grown larger since the last time he checked on it, but it's still nowhere near what she had before. She's learning the tools of the trade though. Little lights, her old favorite, to catch fireflies for a little girl, bending fire and teleportation… what will come next in her bag of tricks?

He can feel the tendrils of dark, leathery wings within her, her inner alarm system. They give a short flap in recognition of his touch. From his touch, some of the gold magic also recognizes him. Vines spring forth in welcome to him, and they stretch their long fingers to try and reach him. The effort makes him smile. It's comforting. Fi, his most trusted weapon, doesn't even recognize him anymore. The vines wrap protectively around her core, but he coerces them to retreat, telling them, "You're not needed right now, go back to sleep." The vines follow his command, albeit with reluctance, and once gone, he notices something new. Has Zelda seen this yet? Or has it slipped its way in without drawing her attention? She wasn't fully aware of the golden magic growing within her at the beginning; it was always with her, lying dormant. But this, this is subtle - quiet - as well. A small sprout just slightly protrudes from her core. If he wasn't so sure that the vines had withdrawn, he would have mistaken it for the wiry greenery. Is this something going rogue? Or his old magic trying to manifest itself in a new way within her?

He withdraws from her core, and the tendrils of his old magic try to grapple with him to stay. "Stay with her," he commands, "I have no need for you."

This is what binds them. This is the red thread of fate between them. He wouldn't change it for the world. He has no use for it these days. No flesh and no bone and no blood – he's not exactly an ideal conductor. Each memory is a new seed. She carries within her the important pieces of himself.

Though he's not sure if he actually touches her, Link leans over and his silicone lips brush her skin.

Of course there's nothing. There never is.

With nothing else to do, his eyes click closed, and he shuts himself down. Ever ready is he for whatever the dream world wishes to conjure up again. Maybe he should consider the idea that he doesn't just turn off, but actually sleep.

Or maybe this is just one step towards humanity again.

…

It's dark. The only light source in the cabin is coming from the fire roaring in the hearth. Link lies on a table in the center of the one room cabin. Fruitlessly, he tries to raise his arms. He groans a little. Having a voice is about all he has at this point. It was simply too much energy for him to expend to try and move having spent so much of his magic attempting to save himself. Producing his voice magically was hard enough, and he had some choice words to say.

How in the world did he end up here though?

He was foolish, that he is sure of.

The door to the cabin swings open, and a blond man carrying a load of firewood steps in. He has Link's face and eyes and hair and body, but he is most certainly not Link, for Link is stuck on an old, rotting table. Not Link tosses the wood by the hearth and approaches the table, twisting Link's features into sinister satisfaction. His hands slam down on the table, but Link does not utter a sound. At least not at first.

Right. That bastard.

Gathering up the last of his magic reserves, he uses it to bellow at Not Link. "MALLADUS!" he screeches, and begins his tirade of cursing. Malladus laughs, and picks Link up. Fi, the ancient sword - his sword – is strapped to the back of Link's original body. The sight enrages him. Malladus, the bastard, has no right.

"You're not quite as intimidating anymore when you're a simple rag doll, you know," he taunts Link, who sways a little as Malladus dangles him from one hand. "Still, that's a foul mouth you have there. It's very unbecoming for someone of your station. We'll have to do something about that won't we?" Malladus lets Link drop.

It is taking everything Link had left to continue his howling insults while Malladus calmly digs around the cabin. He lets out a triumphant grunt when he comes across a sewing kit. Malladus settles in at the table and threads a needle. Tendrils of magic spread out from his – Link's - thumb and index finger and weave into the thread. He hums to himself, unfazed by Link's creative accusing comments. At ease with himself, Malladus smirks. "This will shut you up now," he says. "I can't kill you, but I can at least have some quiet."

Link's vocal protests begin to diminish. With each passing of the needle, he feels his magic being restricted, and he is robbed of his speech. The needle pokes through the hardy fabric of the rag doll's face, each stitch overlapping the mouth. In a couple minutes, Link is rendered mute. Malladus carelessly lets Link slap back onto the table.

One of the windows shatters. The glass is blown straight in. Malladus manages to dodge the rock that sailed through the window. His hand – Link's hand – flies back to Fi's hilt. The door is kicked in, and Link feels a tidal wave of relief. Thank Farore! Dressed in dark blues and black with a cowl covering half his face, Link has never been happier to see the Sheikah. Sheik draws a slim, short blade with one hand. With the other he flings needles at Malladus.

"Where is Sir Link?" he growls as Malladus is struck by the needles, which only prevents him from drawing Fi for just a few precious seconds.

Malladus bursts with laughter. "Why, I am Sir Link now!"

Sheik's eyes narrow dangerously, and they quickly scan the cabin. "I will not allow you to masquerade as my lord Link so long as I am breathing!"

Link's thoughts are racing. What energy he had he essentially depleted. What can he do? He needs to get Sheik's attention somehow. Link lies helplessly on the table as Sheik moves in to strike Malladus. Magic was never really his strong suit, dammit! His core is crying under the strain of use, but Link digs as deep as he can go, begging to Farore for help. Malladus draws Fi and blocks Sheik's initial strike, and Link struggles to find anything that he might be able to use in his core.

Sheik is able to quickly get the upper hand in the tight battle, and he cries out, "You are not worthy of such a sword!" It becomes clear to Link that his beautiful friend knows that the man that wields her now is not Link at all. While Malladus was able to patch up Link's body for his use after their battle, Link can see that his movements are rapidly getting slower. The blade digs into the dirt floor of the cabin, too heavy now for Malladus to wield. Malladus curses to himself, not expecting this turn of events. He abandons the sword, but Sheik is too fast. Sheik manages to wrestle Malladus face down to the ground.

Holding the head of Link's body to the dirt, Sheik takes his own blade and quickly, albeit clumsily, cuts out one eye. Malladus thrashes under Sheik's weight, only making the injury worse as Sheik cannot follow the erratic movements. He lets Malladus go, who swings out with wild abandon at Sheik. The warrior grabs hold of the poker, sticking it into the hearth and flames. With one controlled kick, Sheik strikes Malladus right in the chest and sends him back into the cabin wall. He draws out the hot poker and brings it to the unmarred side of Malladus' new face. "You will never be my lord Link!" The flesh sizzles under the heat, and Malladus also burns his new hand grappling at the poker.

All the while, Link is still praying to Farore and gasping for every last bit he can in his withering core. There's a golden warmth that's ignited in Link's magical core, and with all his desperation, he latches onto it. It will not be contained, however. The magic bursts through Link. Magnificent golden vines spring forth. They rise out between the threads in the fabric of the rag doll. Leaves stretch forth. When Sheik turns and sees the sight, his eyes widen, and he gasps. "L-Link?" he stutters. He glances one last time at Malladus, writhing on the ground and howling. The Sheikah grabs hold of Fi, who takes a moment to consider him before relenting. With Link's sword in one hand, he swipes up Link the rag doll and escapes into the woods.

Later, when he is out of breath and exhausted from the rush of adrenaline and run, Sheik falls back onto a tree to catch his breath before scaling up the trunk. He picks a sturdy branch to rest himself on, and he leans back against the trunk to examine Link in his new body of a child's rag doll. The golden vines on Link have receded for the most part by this point, and Sheik notices the stitching across the doll's mouth. He pulls a dagger from the inside of his boot and carefully cuts at the stitches and pulls the threads out. He stares at Link, who has not spoken to him. "Is that better?" he asks hesitantly.

When Link still doesn't respond, Sheik reaches out and taps into Link's magical core. "Farore!" he gasps at the saddened state of Link's core. "Hold on!" Sheik pulls from his own core to feed magic to Link. Once Link's core is nourished enough, Sheik asks him to try and speak once more.

"Take the sword back," Link instructs weakly.

"Of course."

Sheik stare down at the rag doll in his hands. So lifeless, yet so real. He sighs. "You're quite lucky that Her Majesty requested that I keep an eye on you."

Link is too weak to respond. Too worn out from the magical strain. This suits Sheik just fine though, and he lets Link rest up on his lap. Sheik's eyes droop closed and he prays that nothing unpleasant will rouse him from his sleep.

…

This time, that familiar head of gold stands over him when he turns on. His eyes flick over to the window where sunlight weakly drifts in. It must be cloudy out. Zelda backs away to let him up, telling him all the while that she's got everything packed. He nods it off. "What time is it?" he asks.

"About eight," she replies. "We should get out of here."

"Let's get you breakfast first," he says. He eyes her sweater. "Should we try and get you something warmer after?"

"Depends on where we're going." Zelda shakes her head then pushes her bangs out of the way, and Link notices for the first time how long her blonde hair has grown over their travels. Bangs that just brushed above her eyes now hang well below her cheeks. How long have they been at this now? He didn't want to think about it too much. Time was so irrelevant to him. One year meant so much to a normal person, but to him, one year was but a drop in the bucket.

How tiring.

"It wouldn't hurt to get you something else, just in case."

"We're running out of cash, Link," she reminds him.

He scowls a little at her. "I have a few rupees in with the accordion… or at least I should."

"Link, that's your seed money." Zelda's face wrinkles, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

Link shrugs. Seed money won't be much use until they get to… well, wherever they end up. He could scrounge up something, he sure, if he needs to encourage tips.

It is to be a busy morning in Kakariko, whether the residents and visitors know it or not. At the diner, patrons are sparse, though Link and Zelda chalk it up to just having missed the morning rush. She cradles her head with one hand and stares blankly at her coffee. While he misses wine and mead, there is one thing about drinking that Link does not miss at all. He doesn't envy her ability to feel at all at this point in time, but there is the slight sting of bitterness that she can at all. For him, there is just nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

The crunch of rubber on pavement sounds in the meantime outside on Main Street, blocks from the diner. The procession is slow, and President Ghirahim clicks his tongue impatiently. The slow pace and identifying flags on the front of the car as well as the many security escorts draws attention from the townspeople. He can see the way they line up to peek out the windows, or stop dead on the street to stare at the luxurious car.

He'd gotten a strange report from the force sent down into Ordon and the surrounding woods. A woman - blonde, possibly blue-eyed and just over five foot, petite, Hylian – apparently not only had the ability to use magic, but she was able to teleport. He growls to himself, just thinking about the girl. Who was she to so blatantly display such gall? He has no name for her and no other information beyond a physical description, which he can't completely depend on. Honestly, how hard is it to just give a couple of details? Incompetent. All of them. They couldn't even contain one woman, though the president surmises that her magic must be something else if she was capable of teleporting.

The report also detailed a very odd magical object, if it was an object at all. The men had stated the woman wasn't alone, and teleported herself and a man. A man! She could move two people. This was also the problem. He was a man, but not? It didn't seem possible, but those dolts were insistent that the Lenses revealed him to be a magically imbued object. What a mess. He was supposedly a something or other that stood around six foot, blond with Hylian ears as well. Had some sort of strange skin condition. There was conflict on whether his eyes were blue or grey, but the president cannot bring himself to care. It seems like such a mundane detail.

Ghirahim scowls to himself. It is much too early to start ruining his day.

If this woman is to have the abilities that the men have claimed, she is dangerous. A threat to his cause. Stupid Hylians. Without magic, Hyrule is at his feet, and he savored every bit of it. He'd been in hiding for far too long, slowly biding his time and regaining his strength after that little runt from the Sky sealed his Master away. President Ghirahim is not taking his chances this time. He has been able to so far stamp out any attempt at rebellion, and in doing so, he has started to consider that maybe that damn, rotten boy from the Sky and Her Grace – ugh, how vile, the title even leaves a bad taste in his mouth - haven't been reincarnated. Good riddance.

He'd sent the report of the incident off to Malladus to look into, but the crafty bastard passed it right back, pinning it on incompetent men who could not remember anything correctly. While the president can agree with that sentiment, he couldn't help the prickling feeling that there was truth to it. Who was this daring woman and that… thing? So he had Malladus spread the descriptions around to stationed Guard and squads in the slim hopes of finding a hit.

And what luck!

This part is what lifts his spirits, makes his morning a little better. President Ghirahim feels a little smugness at his luck. How fabulous! A pair of drifters matching the description had been seen around Kakariko, and he didn't want to take his chances with another botched attack. He would take care of this problem personally.

Oh, he'd crush them.

First things first, however. He needs to find these two anomalies. Then he could stamp them out, too.

Frohe Weinachten!

Sooo, do you guys still like Link now? Haha. I know we haven't seen Marin in a long while, but I hope she someone you can be a little more sympathetic to, considering what Link has said about her in earlier chapters (six? seven?). And we officially have Ghirahim making an appearance! We will see more of his fabulousness. Promise. Super promise. Like next chapter promise.

I didn't write for like two weeks. My grandmother, with help from my visiting siblings, picked out the Zelda 3DS for me. I've been trying to save for one to play the new game for a while now, but something always came up. The sad part is, I haven't even really gotten to play the new Zelda much; my sister and I have been playing Animal Crossing, and I've been competing against her boyfriend in Pokemon. This was my holiday, alongside booze. Lots of booze. My family literally all piled into the car Christmas Eve and drove to the liquor store together, and we bought Christmas there. Ironically, my mutti mailed us all new flasks. Many jokes about us all being alcoholics and swearing at the television as my brother squashed everybody in Street Fighter were had. We also played Superman 64; we did not get past the initial stupid ring levels.

Anyway, I hope you guys all had a wonderful holiday and Hogmanay with your families and were safe. My year did not end on the best note, but I'm hopeful for the new one, and I wish you guys all the same. If you had the pleasure of working retail this season (or displeasure, you know), you are a brave soldier on the front line, and I salute you; I know those feels, bro. SO MUCH.

A Richt Guid Hogmanay tae ye a'!

:3