Coin-Operated

17.0

Oh Heart, Please Don't Get Bitter

Link insists on getting me a heavy coat for the coming winter months, and we are able to find one in a thrift shop, although it's more than I would want to spend. Link tries to assuage me, and he tells me not to worry, because we can always make a few rupees somehow. With autumn starting to come to a close by now, and once we leave Kakariko, I might be in for colder days and nights unless we move south, so at the very least, the purchase is practical. The warmer air of Faron and Ordon, however, don't seem like a feasible option; we'll probably end up somewhere where the frost will bite. Link and I tinker with the idea of heading back to Lake Hylia temporarily, if even to just check on Professor Mizuumi.

The streets are strangely much more crowded today than we've seen the entire time we've been staying in Kakariko. People flit past, sometimes brushing us as they hurry by on the sidewalks. Others ignore traffic and jaywalk across streets with a symphony of car horns to accompany them. I slip one arm with Link's and try to stay close so we won't lose each other as we head to the diner we agreed to meet Marin and Darunia at. He carries on one shoulder our duffel and in his other hand his accordion. He mutters to me, "Was there supposed to be some sort of event today?"

"I don't think so."

He frowns slightly. "Weird."

If there's one thing that's comforting, it's that there are more townsfolk in Kakariko that are Hylian or Goron than human. Walking through the town and into the diner, we're not gaped at for our ears. We easily spot Marin and Darunia in a booth along the back wall by the Goron's massive size and Marin's red hair. Link lets me slide into the booth first and sets our stuff down next to the bench. He returns Darunia's enthusiastic greeting before trying to engage Marin. Her eyes are downcast as she's staring into her coffee and spinning it with a spoon idly. She groans back, not even bothering to form words.

Darunia frowns a little at her. "She's been like this all morning," he declares.

Marin breaks away from her staring contest with her coffee long enough to shoot a glare at Darunia, and I can see that her eyes are blood shot. Dark circles hang under her eyes as well. She goes back to just spinning her coffee around in the cup.

I ask her, "Marin, did you sleep at all?"

She mumbles something in response, but I can't understand.

The redhead looks thinner than I remember. The loss of weight has pulled fat from her cheeks, and she appears a little gaunt.

Darunia shakes his head.

Link finally breaks his gaze from Marin, and he looks to Darunia. "What's up with everybody this morning?" he asks and points a finger out the diner's window. "Everybody's out and about; we haven't seen that as the usual."

Darunia scratches at his chin through his wild beard. "I don't know." He shrugs. "I was going to ask you the same."

"Really?" Link asks, a little incredulously. "We thought that some event might be going on or something."

The strongman waves it off. "I asked the waitress earlier, but she didn't have any idea either since she's been on shift all morning." I look around us, and the diner isn't exactly slammed with people, despite the drawing lunch hour. It must have been slow all day prior to us arriving. There's only a few other booths and tables occupied at the moment, and there's a man seated at the counter. While there are customers seated like us, there's not enough to call it the lunch rush.

Though I think the strangeness gnaws on the back of all of our minds – except maybe Marin, who seems to be lost in her own sleep-deprived world – we push it back to just try and enjoy each other for the short time that we have left. Occasionally Darunia's booming laughter startles Marin from her daze, and a crossed, annoyed look flashes over her features as she turns away from him. The Goron nudges her with his elbow. He cracks jokes and makes innuendos that makes Link frown and Marin's exasperation with him grow. Without Darunia around, the table might as well be silent. His loud voice and easy nature puts us at ease, and he keeps the conversation afloat for us.

Once we exit the diner, the curling anticipation in my gut grows. The four of us stand to the side of the diner's entrance, and I realize that I don't really want to leave them again. The slight flapping of the warning wings reminds me that I cannot stay though. My magic is a threat, this much is sure, and Link is an oddity all on his own. Marin sniffles a little, and Darunia opens up his arms for us. It pains us all to separate again, but it's a necessary evil. Link and I throw ourselves at Darunia, and he crushes us back. Letting go makes me feel like I'm plummeting from the top of one of my last pillars of strength.

Marin barely looks my way as she shifts her weight from foot to foot, but she relents, and I'm a little surprised when she gives me a quick embrace. She whispers in my ear, "You are one of us." I'm barely able to return her embrace, let alone answer her, before she pulls away. The redhead keeps her eyes downcast when she turns to Link.

Link wraps Marin up in his arms with gentle care. One arm around her back keeps her pinned to him, and his other hand tangles in her red locks. She hesitates some before throwing up her arms around him.

Darunia slips me a napkin from the diner as well as some cash. The napkin has a phone number scrawled on it, and he tells me to hold on to it just in case. He brings me in for one last squeeze. A thought strikes me as I glance again at the napkin in my hand. I ask Darunia for a favor, which he readily agrees to. "I met a man here by the name of Shad, a historian," I tell him. "Could you keep an eye out for him? He seems to frequent the Shaggy Dog." Darunia grins wide for me, and he promises he will. Anything for a sister.

"Now you have an excuse to call!" he exclaims.

Link lets Marin go and turns to the Goron. "Darunia," Link says. "Check in on Barnes once in a while, yeah? He doesn't even know you're in town."

The Goron's eyebrows raise. "Barnes?" His laughter belts easily through us. "I didn't even know he was still around here!" The giant strongman gives Link a quick salute as Link informs him about Barnes' junkyard. "Can do!" His hand falls limply to the side. "Just make sure to drift on by here again, and we'll call it a deal."

"Call once in a while too," Marin adds.

There's a twisting inside of me as we watch the two go their separate ways; Marin to her dream world and Darunia to clock in for the second shift at his factory. Link swings an arm around my shoulders once they've gone, and he says softly, a slight crackling in his voice, "Come on. Let's get moving, love. We might be able to pick up a ride if go along Route 59 towards the river. We'll just go wherever they can take us."

I nod.

Link asks if I'm alright as he steers me westward.

I shiver a little. I've been trying not to think about it all. It feels like I'm trying to deceive myself once again the reality of where I'm at. I miss Ruto, her big mouth and frivolous gossip. Before all this, I had a nice little flat to come home to everyday instead of a scramble to find somewhere to sleep or the money to pay for lodging. A steady job as a call center supervisor kept food on my table, not an accordion playing machine. I miss Malon and her easy going attitude and friendship with lazy days on the ranch. I was lucky that I was never one to be stuck standing in the bread lines before this mess came whipping through my life. Instead, I'm not so adverse to the idea of waiting for bread, or grabbing a Po' Boy from a soup kitchen when money's low.

I don't have much these days, but it's enough. It's enough even to take my mind off a lot of those things that I've been trying so hard not to think too much about. In some ways, drifting has been good for me. It's let me let go. I've been free to wander in a hazy half-reality-half-dreamlike state.

Doesn't mean that sometimes I don't ache.

I ask Link if he wants me to carry the duffel instead of responding. He frowns a little at my clipped response.

The memory I saw still haunts me most of all.

There's a little part of me that's a bit afraid to look at Link now that there's no Darunia to make the air lighter and no Marin to bring some harsh realism down. Why did he have to show me that? If I turn my head, I can imagine the splattered blood across his cheek and chin from the way he swings a bloody Fi through the air. Even the whistle of the deadly blade cleaving through the air before impact sounds in my ears. The squelch of blood.

He's probably afraid of I think of him. I mean, who wouldn't be?

Despite his frown, I try to give him a cheery smile and loop my arm in his, but his expression does not change.

A part of me whispers how easy it was to just enjoy the simple things life on the road has brought, despite all the chaos within the country.

The grass is still green. Trees this far north may have lost all their leaves at this point, but that doesn't make them any less beautiful to me. The sky is just as moody as it's always been, bringing us sunshine, rain and the night. Cotton ball clouds roll along at lazy ease.

We're almost back to the town's center when Link speaks again. "Those are Guard, right?" he asks, trying to keep his voice low. It's hard to hear him though over the busy chatter at the intersection.

"Huh?"

He points kitty-corner to us.

There's a stirring inside me, and I feel the warning wings perk up in attention. Why in the world would Kakariko be in need of military police? The men across the way dressed sharply in their uniforms don't sit well with me.

We should have left sooner.

Link pulls his tweed cap a little further down in a small attempt to hide his face.

The other Hylians around us cast the Guard curious glances, but the hint of fear in their faces is undeniable when they look upon the uniformed men. When I try to steal another look at the men, Link roughly tugs me a little closer to him. He hisses low to me, "Don't look at them again," and I nod. Noticing them once is normal; they're a peculiar sight, but to openly gawk at them when everyone else is trying to avoid them sends another message. It's a careful balance of interest and disinterest to maintain.

As soon as we can, we slip through the crowed to cross the street and flit past the Guard on the corner across the street. Link gives me quiet reminders to keep looking forward, pay them no mind, until we've passed. The leathery wings shudder a little in relief when no incident arises.

Speaking softly, we debate whether or not it would be best to stick to the main street and blend in, or go down the lesser travelled back alleys. Kakariko has a large population of Hylians, so we wouldn't stick out among the people like we would if we were still in Ordon. We think we've settled on trying to hide in plain sight when shouts ring through from the end of the block we're on. There's a small crowd out front the theater, and it's unclear whether it's been formed from people trying to enter or exit the pictures or from something else entirely.

Link and I freeze in our steps momentarily, even my inner warning wings pause in anticipation, and other passerby turn their heads in acknowledgement of the sounds. Apart from that small action, no other reaction is given from the other people around us. They keep their eyes away, trying to focus on something else as if nothing unusual is unfolding. They know as well as we do, that there's some semblance of safety in inattention. Link mutters to me, "Keep your pace." The theater sits at the end of the block on the corner, and there's an alley that stretches between the theater and its neighboring shops, but to go down that way means we have to approach whatever situation is unfolding at the theater entrance. We also run the risk of winding up at a dead end.

We can't just turn around though.

We can, however, jaywalk to the other side of the street.

Link reminds me to keep my head up. Don't slink, don't look nervous. Walk like you've got somewhere to be, and you needed to be there minutes ago. Purposeful. Don't even bother looking at other people, because you've got a destination and you know exactly where you're going. Shoulders back. Be strong.

Link is right.

If living in a big city like Castleton has taught me anything, it's that what Link is reminding me of is true. The folks that didn't get fucked with were the people that acted with purpose and looked stone cold angry doing it.

It's hard to choke down fear when it's sitting in your throat and you know the threat is near. This is not a maybe situation. This is not a time or place where we might get our wallet stolen. This is a time where Link and I wandering around, near defenseless, in the lion's den.

It's also hard to keep my eyes forward when I can see through the cracks in the crowd when we pause to let a car pass before crossing the street.

Some men lie on the ground, clutching abdomens or heads in pain. A Hylian woman with platinum hair struggles to free herself from a Guardsman's hands. Her weathered clothing has seen better days, with holes dotting her threadbare skirt. Alongside the military policemen is a squad officer brandishing a purple Lens.

My breath hitches. My grip on Link's arm tightens, though he does not notice.

"Link-"

"Don't look, love."

But of course, I do. The officer pockets the Lens, and he shakes his head. To the Guard, he says, "Not her; her core is far too small."

I feel a heat rising deep within me. It wells in my chest and creeps out to my fingers and even to my ears. What I wouldn't give for human ears right now…

Eldin's voice rings in my head. The hawk spirit gently reminds me to keep myself in check. "Fire is the most uncontrollable," it had said when I asked for help after setting the newspaper on fire. "This is just one other gift of the gold magic." The gold magic's presence seems to have been strengthening on its own accord since wrangling it.

As a child, I can recall certain incidents occurring with no explanation. Magic was an uncontrollable force for me when I was young. The golden magic building in my core dregs up memories of my father chastising me for not suppressing my magic and the harsh reprimands from teachers when I scared my classmates as it slips from my control. I breathe in deep, and I try to keep calm, not pay attention to the scene across the street. I've lost control of the gold magic only a few times so far, but that's a few times too many, so I try to focus on my breathing. Each breath in. Out. In. Out.

I take a quick glance at my core. I can feel that the bubbling rage of the gold magic is settling, but it's still simmering within my core. Protecting my core in an outer layer are the golden green vines, and when I feel my magic trying to run rampant in a split second of inattention, the vines constrict to keep it at bay. There's a tightening in my chest until they loosen their hold.

There's a flutter of leather to keep me alert.

Breathe. Stay calm, and they won't notice. Breathe.

"Nothing else?"

"No. She doesn't have anything on her."

"Let her go."

From the glossy windows of the shops, I can see the Guardsmen toss aside the woman. She tumbles onto the concrete when she's unable to keep her footing. The uniformed men simply storm around her and down the block. When I look back, a few of the movie goers only move towards her when the men are a safe distance away to help her up and check on her.

I sigh, releasing that internal breath I've been holding for so long. "That was close," I gasp.

"Let's not think about it and just get out of town," says Link.

The wings won't cease though.

Each step is a rattling of nerves that Link tries to soothe with soft words, but I can't even begin to think about calming down until our feet touch the dirt road of Route 59. We don't speak. We don't look at each other. No longer clinging onto Link's arm, I walk in the grass with a couple feet of space between us. We're maybe a mile or so out from the edge of Kakariko when we see the first car heading out. My instinctive reaction is to flinch and look for a way to hide. However, Link thumbs for a lift, but the car ignores us and bounces down past us, and I relax a little.

Link shrugs. "There'll be more."

"Do you think they were looking for us?" I ask. Link turns his head towards me, fake eyes rolling to me, and I know he knows I don't mean the passing car.

He doesn't reply.

An apple orchard isn't too far off down the road, so Link makes the suggestion of stopping there to let me rest for a bit. The rows of apple trees are enclosed within a simple, wooden fence. It's not hard to climb over it, for Link that is. In my case, I slip through the two horizontal bars of wood that run between posts. Link sets the accordion and the duffel down on the grass while I lean up against the tree. He asks, trying to put some humor into our present, "Think we'll get anybody to run us off?" It's just absurd enough, I laugh.

Link takes the green tweed cap, Mido's, from his head and plops it onto mine. "You hungry at all?" Not waiting for me to reply, he starts climbing up one tree, careful to watch himself, though it's hard for him to see what his limbs are doing. I have to direct him some until his hands get hold of one of the lower, thick branches, and he hauls himself up onto the branch. He picks a good number of the last apples for the season and tosses them down to me. I squirrel away the apples in the duffel to keep for later, my eyes scanning through the thick trunks of the apple trees for any sign of people. With some luck, no one comes out.

And just like that, the pleasant, mundane feeling of being on the road hits us again. This is different from the feeling of being lost in the woods, different from the escape from the carnival. All we have to worry about is figuring out where we're going, what we're going to eat and hoping that maybe some soul kind enough to pick us up can take us further along. Maybe whenever we end up wherever we'll give Darunia and Marin a ring to check in. I consider calling Ruto again as well, though I think it comes from a selfish place in me where hearing her blather on about her perfect, bubble world can make me forget the real one that we're living in.

We chat about a popular radio show that airs on Mondays at seven, speculating what it is that they use to get their sound effects. We've missed too many shows to really keep up with the storyline these days. The last one Link and I were able to catch aired a couple weeks back with the pirate ship caught in storm out in the Waker Sea during their continued search for a fabled ghost ship containing treasure. Link insists that the sound of thunder is created by waving thin sheets of metal.

The more we talk, distance ourselves mentally from Kakariko, the wider Link smiles. He hops back across the fence and backpedals to look up at the sky over the orchard's tree line. The laughter in synthetic voice suddenly doesn't sound so. It's fuller, and it's colored. Just before he throws his head back, I can see it. There's spark in his eyes that I've not seen before. Throat exposed, he turns slightly, following the trail of a plane through the sky. His head of blond hangs back, and under the sunshine, there's a healthy, silky sheen to it. It doesn't look so raw and coarse anymore.

The laughter is still in his eyes and smile when he turns back to me. The warmth from him fills me far better than a sweater and coat ever could.

And in a split second I lose all that.

His skin is splattered with glossy scarlet, glistening in the sunlight, and that wonderful smile of his is still under that layer of gore.

It almost makes me want to retch, but I hold it in.

The smile starts to falter. Link's eyes click as he approaches the fence. He leans over the post and asks, "What's wrong?"

To keep the swimming in my head and stomach at bay, I keep my eyes on my boots and pray that helps quell the rippling sea in my abdomen.

The crunching of rocks and dirt reaches my ears. An engine purrs, and I glance up. Link, whose face is now thankfully clean again, backs away from the fence, and I believe that he might try to signal the car coming up the road. He doesn't though. Instead, Link tenses, and there's a sudden flurry of black leather flapping in my chest. "Zelda!" Link calls in warning as I scramble to my feet, but both of us are too late. The car is in view now pulling alongside where Link stands in the grass.

A glossy black sedan with chrome trim slows down.

I'm rooted to my spot as the back window rolls down. The face that appears is not one that I immediately recognize, but when the man opens his mouth, I know exactly who he is. I've heard him speak enough times by this point. He looks so different in real life color than what I can recall from black and white pictographs in the newspapers. His lips stretch wide to reveal perfectly white teeth, and he asks Link, "Why, hello there. How are you today?"

Stiff, Link says, "Fine." His eye flick my way for guidance, but I can offer none.

His hair is an amazing shade of platinum blonde, so bright you could almost mistake it as white. His skin does not have much color to it either; it's so pale, but has just enough color to it that it's a few shade darker than his hair. It's no wonder that he constantly looks slightly washed out in his pictographs. There's a cigar in one hand, and he sticks it out the window to ash it.

"Were you looking for a ride?" the president asks as he breifly eyes me with the duffel strap in one hand.

Link says, "No. Just resting a bit."

President Ghirahim looks back to me, and the look in his eyes tangles up my breath, leaving it trapped in my throat on its exhale. Not even the wings dare to flutter inside of me. He leaves me choked until he turns his head back into the car. The president speaks softly with the other occupants of the car, and then the doors break open wide. He's dressed lightly for the weather, only a suit jacket to keep him warm. Two men step out of the vehicle with him dressed in uniforms of the Guard.

Casually, the president brushes his fingers over his jacket to flick off some unseen lint as he approaches us. "Tell me, strangers," he says coolly as he stops short of the grass where Link stands, "what are your names?"

"Ravio," lies Link. He glances at me, and it's enough for me to get the message.

I play along. "Hilda."

"How lovely," the president quips, taking a few puffs on the cigar.

His eyes slide between the two Guardsmen standing alert on both sides of him. His unoccupied hand slips deep under his jacket's lapels, and the president pulls out a revolver. His movements are fluid as he cocks the weapon's hammer, and in short succession, both of the Guardsmen crumple to the ground. My ears are ringing from the revolver's blasts as I watch pools of claret steadily seep out onto the dirt road the men's heads. It's hard to avert my eyes from the gory halos. Flecks of the claret have splattered the road and likely on the president's dark suit for it dots his exposed, pale skin. Goopy bits litter the halos, giving the smooth, dark liquid a lumpy appearance. The hand that holds the pistol falls to the president's side, still smoking.

He puffs on his cigar again.

"How about we agree not to lie to each other, Ravio?" The smiles that creeps onto his face as he looks at Link is sickening. To me: "Hilda?"

We're too stunned to reply.

The president tosses aside the loaded revolver, and I jump when it fires off into the orchard.

"Well? What say you?"

"Mr. President," Link gives a nervous laugh, "we're just trying to find work in a new town."

The president snarls when he hears this. "Ravio, if you are a good man, you won't speak such utter nonsense."

"Is it though?" Link pushes, finding himself, and I'm a little awed at his audacity. "There are shanty towns full of folks that can't find a decent living these days! People will line up for blocks for food, and then people like us can't stay in one place, because there is nothing for anybody no matter where we go. And what have you been doing? You've been on some strange crusade against magic that most folks don't even have the capabilities to use anymore. What's the godsdamn point of it all?"

"Like yourself?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, sir," the president laughs. He tosses his long bangs to the side with one flick of his head. "What is the point of it all? Aren't you constantly putting a strain on your core to keep yourself intact to that mechanical abomination of a body? Not that I'm sure that you could even use your magic if you had any decent amount to spare. You're a strange one, to say the least. My men thought you had some strange medical ailment of the skin, but now I see that you're nothing more than a husk.

"I didn't fully believe it all at first," he giggles to himself, "until I saw you from the car. Oh, I just knew today was going to be a good day."

He waves the cigar at me. "You should know, Ravio, that I don't need manmade weapons to harm that girl, so care to reconsider my original proposition?"

"Your magic is nothing compared to hers." I wish I had Link's confidence in my abilities. "You're no threat."

"Ravio," the president chides as if he were prodding a lying child for the truth.

"We are two drifters just trying to find some place better in this world." Link even has the gall to say to the president, "And I mean that being a place where you don't exist."

President Ghirahim's advance is too fast for me or Link. In one moment he's still standing on the dirt road, and in the next, he's on me with a hand deep in my chest. I lose all of my strength. The duffel strap slips from my fingers. My lungs can't hold a breath, and the way he digs into me is crushing. "Threats to my cause shouldn't exist either," he growls, and his fingers reach my core where the vines have become overgrown in the face of the threat.

Then there's a nothingness.

The president's lips move, but his voice is gone. Over his shoulder and beyond the orchard fence is Link twisting to run at us with a slackened jaw. Under the president's malicious eyes, I have to believe that maybe this is it for me. Link is at the fence, and the president's fingers close around my core. The pressure begins to build as his starts to squeeze.

I can hear Eldin whispering in my ear to remind me to breathe, to keep the fire inside me going steady.

Link's battle cry rakes through my ears mixed with the president's own anguished, wailing screams. The protective vines latch into the president's palm with razor thorns, and he releases me. Air swoops into my lungs like a tidal wave as I stumble back, tripping over the duffel bag and tree roots. Pain blooms in my head from the impact, and my vision begins to swim as I try to get my bearings.

Before Ghirahim can come at me again, Link slams into him, throwing both of them into the dirt. The president repeatedly strikes Link, but the machine can feel nothing and takes the hits, and Ghirahim can't get himself loose. Stubbornly, he clings to President Ghirahim. Still a little dazed, I get myself up on all fours. The strange way that time moves is punctuated by the steady beating of the wings as I find my feet and rush at the two, Link screaming for me – Hilda – and the burning is back.

Breathe.

"Think of yourself, your body, as the bellows that breathe life to fire," Eldin had said.

Breathe.

Ghirahim manages to pull a switchblade from a pocket and, knowing it won't do anything in stopping a mechanical man, flings it at me. It sinks into my abdomen, a few inches right from navel. When I hit the ground again, rocking in new waves of pain, Ghirahim gets himself free of Link. Shiny leather shoes approach as I roll to keep the blade away from the ground.

Breathe.

Eldin rings through. "Controlled chaos."

The hot, sticky liquid is all over my palms, and I throw one hand out and latch onto the president's ankle and let loose. The flames lick his expensive shoes and ignite the fine, woolen trousers. He howls but manages to kick me once in the head. Link's blurred figure throws him away from me, and I'm vaguely aware of the strange sensation of the slick metal sliding out from my stomach.

The putrid stench of burned flesh meets my nostrils, mixing with the copper odor of my blood. My hands grapple at the wound, trying to stifle the gushing flow.

With the small blade, Link manages to dig a deep gash into Ghirahim's gut.

Shouts come from within the orchard, and the president takes Link's momentary distraction and wretches the switchblade knife from Link. A man in dirtied overalls with a rifle in hand comes out from between the trees. His cursing stops when he sets his eyes on us. Clumsy fingers fumble to set the rifle to fire, and he takes aim at Link, the only uninjured, standing one. Link and I try to shout for him to hurry away, but the blast from the rifle rips through our speech.

The president starts to cackle.

My vision starts to get hazy.

The bullet rockets through Link, and the force knocks the gauzy blot that is Link off his feet.

From the blood pooling from his stomach, the president forms razor sharp diamonds. The garnet diamonds sail straight for the man and sink deep into him. The man keels over, scarlet droplets arching through the air.

President Ghirahim slowly drags himself to his feet, burned flesh and gaping wound and all. Numb and fading, I still manage work up enough spittle to shoot at his feet as Link rises again. With each blink of my eyes, though, his shoes come closer with Link right behind. Just when Ghirahim is almost on me, I feel a sudden surge course through me.

The vines wrapped around my core weave together a little tighter.

The blood from the wound in my abdomen seeps through the cracks of my fingers, and my last attack barely registers in my mind. With one hand on the wound, the other raises up seizes President Ghirahim's outstretched, and the energy welled inside of me releases in an electrifying current. His muscles spasm. Through the cloudy haze of consciousness, I see the president fold like paper to the ground. He jerks a bit more before going still.

Then Link's hands are on my face, his eyes more watery than glassy.

He calls for me – Zelda – but I slip away.

…

She's beautiful. Just as young and vibrant as I can recall. With each step towards her, I feel the blooming of life under my feet. It springs skyward, green tendrils creeping up from between my toes and out from under my heels. And she! And she sits under an old willow, her head downcast. I can't see her for the willow's wild hair obscures her, but I know. I know. She's beautiful. Just as strong and tender as I can recall.

She and I have never met, but I know her. And I'm sure, in some strange way, she knows me. Why else has she come to me? There's a stirring in my heart, and it tells me that she's been waiting. For how long, I know not, but I know that she's been waiting for me for far too long. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. So, so sorry that I've kept her waiting.

So my feet, my aching feet, carry me to her. Each weary step towards her becomes more confident. Her energy wraps me up in a silk cloth that caresses my skin and eases the dull pain I feel the closer I come, and from this I know that she forgives me. She forgives me for all the time I have so foolishly wasted. I was not ready yet, but I am now.

The weeping willow ruffles its natural hair.

I slip through the willow's curtain.

She sits with her legs curved to one side. Her white skirts pool from the lavender bodice. Even in the shade, her hair shines, and when her eyes lift to meet mine, they're electrifying. Her skin is neither sun kissed nor the porcelain white that so many of her nobles desired. She has a healthy glow to her, and it's warm and inviting. Her lips quirk, and her eyes drift back down to her hands. The scarf she'd fashioned from a soiled dress is in her hands. Delicate fingers trace the embroidery.

While I feel so small in comparison when I sit down next to her, I can't help the swelling in my chest. The ease of which she is able to saturate me in her glow is amazing. This graceful woman… she is heavenly. It makes me feel so honored to be so close to her, to be touched by her blessed, heavenly energy. I have to ask, "Am I dead?" because such contentment does not exist in my reality.

"Of course not, love. I will not let you go so soon."

"Is this even real?"

"Is anything?" she replies. Her voice is light, quiet and smooth. It's sweet and thick, drawing out her words like taffy. Her eyes lift to meet mine once more, and she roots me to the earth.

"I can see why he loves you so."

She giggles at this.

I have to look away.

I don't think I've seen grass this green in a long time.

"He loves us so," she corrects me.

"I'm sorry?"

Zelda the Queen leans towards me and places one hand on my arm. Her skin warm, but I feel the callouses on her palm from her labors. I can only imagine the hidden sneers and distaste she must have suffered from them.

Rosy lips stretch, and she tells me, "You and I are not so different, don't you think?"

I shake my head in disagreement, and she frowns a little.

"We must be, otherwise you would have never been chosen like the rest of us."

"… Us?"

This makes her laugh again, but it's not condescending in the least. "We are all chosen to carry this magic within our veins, because we are born with certain qualities." Her hand pulls away. "You may not think yourself brave or witty, but I do.

"There will come a time very soon, when you will need this. Link will help you; he's given you pieces of himself as it is. I promise, he won't leave you when you need him most."

Pieces? Of himself?

Zelda the Queen glances my way as I stupidly try to form a response.

Saving me, she adds, "The memories."

"Have you been helping us this whole time?"

The queen offers a tiny smile and turns her attention back to the purple scarf in her hands, but she does not answer me. A glassiness overtakes her eyes, and a small clear bead wells up from one corner.

"He is a man full of doubts, my love," she mutters to me, although I barely catch her silky words as they slip past her lips. She doesn't bother to hide or wipe the tear that slides down the curve of her cheek. "You and I are our own people, as much as he wants us to be one in the same. I have long since passed; my time is done. Just like all the others before me.

"I had a purpose, dear," she says, a little bit of an edge biting at her words now. "I did not fulfill it, though I was given the tools to, and look where it landed Link." The steely stare she strikes me with shatters my serenity and leaves me stunned. "Malladus had his designs working in the woods. Gohma crawled up from the darkest of pits. Bulbins repeatedly tried to raid new territory. Even the skull kids were riled and took anyone in the woods to be an intruder. I was not able to stop him as I should have."

The willow rustles as if lamenting the queen's failure with her.

"He's still out there," I say to her. To me, my voice is withering and weak when compared to hers.

"I know."

The scarf falls limply onto her lap, and Zelda the Queen takes my hands in hers. "His plans are even more twisted now that he has another ally in tow. Our magic must not fall into their hands, do you understand, my dear?"

I'm shaking a little. "Yes," I almost croak back.

She looks down at the scarf again, letting go of my hands. Her thumb drags across the fabric as she considers it. I give a small squeak in surprise and protest when Zelda reaches over and pulls on the collar of my dress. She slips the scarf down the front of my dress. "Keep it," she says as she rests her hand on my chest, the piece of fabric bunched up underneath, "for when he needs reminding of who we are." I'm unclear if she means the three of us, or just her and me.

I don't get the chance to ask her to clarify, as she tells me, "It's time for us to part, Zelda." The queen takes my hands again. "You need to wake up now, love, but I want you to remember that I am always with you, we all are. So never fear and never doubt, for we believe that you are strong.

"Most of all, Zelda," she whispers, "I want you to remember, especially if you find yourself in trouble, that I love you."

"You all do?"

Her smile is almost blinding.

Her honey sweet voice is full of determined conviction when she replies, "We all do."

And Zelda the Queen lets me go.

I seem to have this trend of updating on Tuesdays.

Next chapter is essentially halfway done actually, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to grab the time to finish, because look out lower income families of Chicago! I am out there, filing your taxes this year. Seriously. I have a few more things to do with my IRS examinations this week, and in March, I will be working with VITA (Voluntary Income Tax Assistance) to help all the other poor folk like me out there file their 1040's. VITA's not just an Illinois thing, guys, if you need help, check in around places like your local library to see if there's tax assistance available.

This is my supra busy season now, guys, but I do read everything you leave me. I'm sorry if I haven't replied, I try to, but thanks for all the comments and PMs you guys have sent me. Your suggestions, critiques and comments are always welcomed and awesome.

We're coming near the end, so I've had more of a drive to write this story over Zombie Cake. As much as I've like writing this story so far, I will be happy to have it done and be able to move onto other projects. Like the next the Zelda story.

If you guys play Animal Crossing: New Leaf at all, feel free to visit anytime through the Dream Suite. My dream address is: 4200-3405-3793.

Stay warm guys, drop a word or a hello and I'll catch you on the next update!

:O