A/N:
As always, the biggest thanks goes to Norkix (here on FFnet) for beta reading this chapter! My writing would be nowhere near as polished without him.
Enjoy the chapter!
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Like polished steel, her gaze sharpened forward into eternity. Her muscles flexed, her posture stretched upright, and her fingers squeezed the fletching of a lone arrow, nocking it rigidly against the taut string of her bow. This performance was routine; predictable.
Yet, this time, it felt vastly unfamiliar. An amalgamation of oil and water.
With limpid eyelids draping her vision, Zelda released her arrow. It surged through the air, churning and spiraling, glistening like a radiant gemstone. Her left shoulder, discreetly bandaged beneath the archery garments she now wore, throbbed and pinched synchronously with the twisting pressure. Her muscles were raw, swollen, and inflated into unalloyed obscurity. Bruises and cuts furnished her washed-out flesh, and, worst of all, the lack of sleep she had endured the night prior was starting to lay waste; warping her mind into a purée of inattention and nescience.
But, regardless of her physical and mental condition, Zelda needed to conduct herself naturally - as if nothing had occurred. She needed to act as if her skin remained unblemished, as if her mind was still razor-sharp, as if she hadn't snuck out the night prior, scaled Mt. Crenel, defeated back-breaking enemies, and collected the mythical Fire Element in merely a single night - all by herself.
Simple.
A graceless thunk bounced into the air, echoing between her cluttered ears. Zelda squinted, pressing a flattened hand onto her eyebrows to shade her vision from the mirrored glare of the sun. Her eyes narrowed onto the telltale red and blue striping of the arrow she had shot in the distance, planted lopsidedly in an outlying tree and not the target bullseye she had been aiming for.
A frustrated sigh rolled off her tongue, right as her instructor's booming voice barked from behind her, "Unfortunately, that was not the target, Princess Zelda."
"I know," Zelda said, hardening her jaw. She swiveled around, slowed with her rubbery steps, and met the dour stare of her instructor. He was an older man, with seasoned stories plaited into each gray strand of hair on his head. Although quite short in stature, the garish outfits he always wore, spun in shades of vivid oranges and neon blues, garnered a surplus of attention his way. A thick monocle was the only constant of his attire, fastened onto his wizened face to aid his vision - though surprisingly, Zelda had also learned long ago that he could use it to magnify sun rays onto dry grass to start a fire.
He cracked a frown, drawing his eyes critically onto her slackened form. "Are you feeling alright, Princess Zelda? We've been practicing for over an hour and you've only landed three shots." His arms crossed his chest, his eyes moving away from her and onto the sailing clouds above. "That's very unusual for you."
"My apologies," she retorted, actively trying to remove any guttural shred of displeasure from her voice. "Though, I suppose I am feeling a bit under the weather. It's been quite exhausting spending my evenings planning the Picori Festival. I've been working well into the night, you know."
Her instructor's gaze fell back onto her profile again, a single eyebrow cocked. "Perhaps it's none of my business, but I heard Minister Potho and King Daltus were assisting you?"
"They are," she said coolly. "However, they're also exceptionally busy. They haven't been able to lend as much aid as they had initially planned to."
"Very well," he muttered, "I will cut our lesson short today so that you may rest. I expect your full energy tomorrow, Princess Zelda."
The sturdy grip she held her bow with loosened, and the faintest sliver of a smile ghosted her face. "I appreciate it. I promise to come well-rested tomorrow."
"I expect nothing less." He lowered his hands to his sides and tilted his head towards the grand archway - the argent portal that separated the training pasture from Hyrule Castle's garden. "A guard should be waiting just outside, ready to escort you back to your room."
"Thank you." Zelda latched her bow onto her quiver, plucked the sides of her archer's tunic, and dipped into a courteous bow. Her cuts burned and her tendons wept; both lightning and fire corkscrewing within her. A cry of pain threatened to spill from her searing lungs, yet Zelda returned from her bow with a stolid face. Her mouth was threaded into a thin line, and her eyes appeared like thick globs of crystal lacquer as she added, "I look forward to our practice tomorrow."
Her instructor nodded and supplied a modest bow in return. His judgemental glare examined her odd demeanor for a final time before he ultimately frowned again, turned, and marched across the field, steering towards the arrow Zelda had shot moments ago that lay rooted in the naïve bark of an unsuspecting tree.
Once she had swiveled on her heel towards the archway and her instructor was fully out of earshot, Zelda exhaled a hushed whimper of pain. Pretending that she was perfectly fine was proving to be more burdensome than she thought - with maids gripping her arm to lead her where need be, bending and bowing required in her acknowledgment of guests and castle workers, and scheduled practices depleting her physical strength. It was exhausting, and she was all too lucky that her archery instructor had allowed an early end to today's practice. I can finally recoup some lost sleep, she thought, with tatters of blind hope frothing higher alongside each groggy step she took.
As she entered Hyrule Castle's garden, dazzling shades of crisp pearlescent white and jammy purples swirled with red swallowed her vision. The blossoming sprouts of various flower species stood tall, addressing Zelda in a mock gesture of respect. Fresh, tidy patches of grass lined the paved pathways that snaked around bushels of flowers, fountains, and tired oak benches. With the varnished sun skimming the highest corner of the sky, it felt like wandering into a dream world full of rich color and candied petals.
"Hello, Princess Zelda," a gentle voice greeted from her right. She turned her head, taking notice of a slim guard dressed in the commonplace, steel-plated armor standing nearby. He hauled a tapered spear of incredible length in one hand, with his other hand perched atop his protective helmet that had been strapped to a loop on his waist. His eyes were tinged the color of fallen autumnal leaves, and he donned a cordial smile as he looked at her. "I'm Rorro, ready to escort you to your room in Hyrule Castle when you are," he announced, finalizing his speech by placing the hand that had been resting on his helmet onto his forehead in a firm salute.
Rorro? That name sounds vaguely familiar, she mused. Not long ago, Zelda had felt like she recognized most of the Hyrule Castle maids and guards by first name alone. She had grown up with them, spent a multitude of mealtimes with them, and even made it her mission to learn a smattering of key facts about each person. However, due to the recent absence of these notable castle workers - as most were temporarily dismissed, burdened by disease - more and more of the faces she now encountered seemed novel to her. Have I met him before? Or maybe just heard his name somewhere before?
She mustered up a polite, "Thank you," in reply. Zelda gripped her archer's tunic once again and steeped her body into a formal bow, grateful that this position hid her face from view - if only so she could gnash her teeth together and ingest any detached wails of pain that threatened to break free from the action. As her body returned upward, with her expression tied into an unreadable knot, she added, "I'm ready to return now."
"Very well! Let's head off, then."
In silence, Zelda followed directly behind Rorro; strung along by his commanding tempo. Her body increasingly ached and burned with each hammering footstep fulfilled, buckled by her piercing injuries. Their journey, at that moment, felt neverending to her crumbling mind and body.
They had only passed two raised garden beds by the time she decided to speak, hopeful a blithe conversation would dampen his speed, "So… Rorro, was it?"
"Yes, Princess Zelda. At your service," he responded decorously. His steps progressively lessened as he spared a glance in her direction, his sapphire-black hair whirling in tandem with the wind. "Do you need something?"
"Well…" A pause; a brief moment to corral her displaced thoughts. "Um, I was just curious how long you've been serving as a Hyrule Castle guard?"
Rorro's eyebrows furrowed in consideration, visibly confused by the nature of her question, before he simply stated, "I recently passed my training period, so I've been with Hyrule Castle for just over six months now."
"I see."
Again, teeming silence consumed the air between them. The soft branding of their feet, the dynamic bird calls overhead - these were the only melodies that continued to linger around the pair. As the wordless exchange constricting them expanded and broadened, so, too, did Rorro's stride; his pace ever quickening with resumed intent.
So, when another pristine flower bed came into eyeshot - bestowed with umber soil softened by morning dew - Zelda spoke once more, "I apologize for not having properly conversed with you sooner. Hopefully being a guard here is treating you well."
Rorro glanced in her direction again, peeking out of the corner of his eye. "Thank you, Princess Zelda. I certainly appreciate you saying that." His walking, once more, puttered to a leisurely pace as he turned his head further in her direction, offering a generous smile. "I've been enjoying my time here. I'm truly grateful that I can help protect Hyrule and serve the royal family. That has been my only goal."
A smile of her own, demure and dunked in sterling respect, surfaced on her face. "I'm glad to hear that. It's very noble of you to have joined the Hyrule Castle guardsmen solely to protect Hyrule and its people."
He nodded. "Of course. That should be the only reason any guards join, no?"
"You're right," she sighed. "Unfortunately, in the past, not all guards have shared those same virtues."
Zelda could recall many times she'd overheard traitorous guards, sent from some malicious force, muttering amongst themselves in the comfort of twilight. During those times, when she had already been poised to escape, cradled in thick leaves and shadowed by the moon's inconstant light show, her ears would twitch from their revolting discussions. This had only enabled a desire to sneak away and visit Link more frequently, as she would decipher who was disloyal with this knowledge and present it to her father, to which he would call for an investigation and, eventually, exile the perpetrators.
These memories manifested internally, roiling in consecutive order; as, overhead, the cerulean sky rapidly dissolved, and the covering of Hyrule Castle's ceiling stood lavishly in its place. Their once reverberant concrete steps contorted into airy clacking from their weighted shoes on Hyrule Castle's tiled flooring, and each intake of breath no longer carried the cloying scent of ripened flower stalks and honey along with it.
"Well," Rorro finally said, "I promised on my honor and my family's honor to protect Hyrule." With ample grit and determination smoldering behind his gaze, he locked eyes with Zelda. "And I intend to follow my promise, no matter what I must do."
Suddenly, it clicked.
The mist in her lethargic mind evaporated, venting room for an onslaught of erratic thoughts: Rorro! He was one of the guards stationed outside of my window last night! I know I overheard his name mentioned before I headed to Mt. Crenel. Her eyes widened at the realization, her heart burgeoning in place. He knows about Link and Vaati… I need to ask him something - anything - and see if he can give me more information somehow.
Her voice felt unexpectedly inconvenient, shriveled, and she was unable to scale a whisper as she muttered, "Rorro, I need to ask yo-"
"Well, here we are, Princess Zelda," Rorro's unperturbed voice announced. "Your bedroom in Hyrule Castle! Do you need anything else from me before I depart?"
With her concentration now broken, she studied him tersely. Is this a sign? He seems like a genuine person, but, I suppose I don't truly know much about him quite yet... perhaps I was acting ahead of myself… She chewed her bottom lip, absorbed in a myriad of all-consuming thoughts. I need to rest and properly think things over before potentially jeopardizing my plan...
Zelda cleared her grating throat, pivoting to look at Rorro fully from her bedroom doorway. "No. Thank you very much for escorting me back, Rorro."
Hand held high on his forehead in a salute, he relinquished a toothy grin in her direction. "I'm glad I could be of service to you, Princess Zelda. I hope to see you around."
"I do as well."
He spun uniformly on the balls of his feet and strode down Hyrule Castle's corridor. Zelda stood and watched him turn a sharp corner, disappearing behind brick and stone.
Frustration welled within her as she stepped inside her room and fastened the door shut. Lately, she had started feeling like none of the decisions she made were right, like she was simply stumbling over mistake after mistake. Was it the correct choice to not query Rorro just then? Was it the correct choice to hide away the Fire Element instead of bringing it to her father? Was it even the correct choice to be orchestrating this entire plan to begin with?
Her head spun. From physical pain to emotional distress, she was just… overwhelmingly tired.
Zelda staggered towards her bed. Uncertainty doused her, churning like a torrenting storm cloud overhead. She felt the world liquefy, saw only achromatic vacuity as her body fell to her bed and her eyes swept shut. The emptiness was beautiful; lulling her to fade away and melt into a chasm of inkiness.
Until the steeled clicking of her bedroom lock rattled again, and her door scraped open. Zelda unfurled one eye slowly, spotting a blurred silhouette nearing her bed.
"Princess Zelda?"
Nearly adrift, Zelda merely breathed out a gruff, "Hm?" in reply.
Scalding tension pressed onto her injured shoulder, and suddenly, her eyes bolted open; her body cocooned in a web of scorching pain.
Standing before her, with her hand rested on Zelda's anguishing shoulder, was a prim maid. Her cinnamon doe-eyes stared down at Zelda with undiluted reverence as she stated, "Princess Zelda, my apologies for disturbing you. However, there is someone here who has requested your presence."
Zelda sucked in a deep breath, replying through gritted teeth, "Must I go this instant?"
The maid frowned. "Yes, Princess Zelda. Your presence has been specifically requested."
"By whom, if I may ask?"
A bitter silence wrought the air; so uncomfortable that Zelda almost spoke again before the maid loudly cleared her throat and muttered, "I… forgot to catch her name, unfortunately. My sincerest apologies, Princess Zelda."
"No matter." Zelda forcibly shut her eyes, wrinkling her brow. "I'll get up, change, and head to the guest room shortly."
"Will you need any help?"
"No, thank you," was Zelda's curt reply.
"I will take my leave, then."
As Zelda opened her eyes again, she caught sight of the maid's youthful smile and cultivated bow poised in her direction, followed by her hurried steps ushering across the room. The creaking and metallic jangling of the door echoed in Zelda's head - until, once again - she was fully enveloped in withdrawn silence.
Alone, she felt like weeping. Everything seemed to be perpetually stacking on top of her, crushing her with untold obligations and authority both night and day. She was physically drained, emotionally scarred, deprived of sleep, and yet - she was forced to continue forward. She had no other choice. If only Link were here…
All of a sudden, a mellow wind washed over her crumpled body, smothering her in mystifying heat. It was a palpable breeze, almost refreshing, yet surging with unmatched power woven throughout. She felt paralyzed for the fleeting second that it elasticized around her; entirely vulnerable. At that moment, she was whisked back into a paper world, back into that wicked nightmare she had endured merely two days prior - helpless, and imprisoned in the clutches of Vaati's trap.
But then, it vanished. Almost as if it had never occurred.
Zelda sprang up. A cold sweat laminated her skin, and her breathing was jumbled into uneven puffs. "What on earth was that?"
She quickly strolled by each window that garnished her room, furiously checking - one by one - that they were all closed, with the blinds drawn shut and latched with sturdy locks. Her room was still masked in unstirred, deadened silence; her objects lay untouched and stagnant, and there was no residual aura of magic.
She was alone.
"I… guess I must have just imagined it." She swallowed, her throat feeling dry and uncooperative. "I'm just… tired. Yes, that's all."
With leaden knees, she approached her towering wardrobe, trying to dismiss the restless thoughts invading her mind. Once I get some sleep, I should be fine. There's no way that was real, I'm just… really exhausted. Her body moved without thought, opening her closet doors and hovering her hand above her quintessential regal dress.
Anxiety wormed its way into her gut. She could feel it traversing through her bones and past her lungs, scavenging her body in hopes to devour it whole. And yet, Zelda prevailed. As she tugged her well-worn archery clothes off - careful around her jostled wounds - she vowed to strengthen her mind and work to suppress her fears even further.
She knew that all she could do was persevere, regardless of whether or not she wanted to.
Even time's alleviating embrace had not healed her stress and discomposure. Perched outside of the guest room, gingerly swaying, and with her calloused hand clasped atop the golden doorknob - she was still unable to put an end to the shudders that softly racked her body.
You're just tired, Zelda. Stop thinking about something that didn't happen.
She drew a short breath inward, through her nose, and plastered a feigned smile on her face in a disingenuous attempt to lift her spirits. I need to focus on what's happening right now.
Right now she was located outside of Hyrule Castle's guest room, sandwiched between two wordless guards, and preparing to meet an unknown face who had requested her presence. It was quite uncommon for Zelda's appearance to be sought after by a guest (typically it was just her father, or less commonly, both her and her father together), which only appended even more worries in her mind.
Willing herself to push past this inevitable discomfort, she cautiously turned the handle and plunged the door forward. Waves of panic gathered and swelled above her body with every warbled creak that rolled from the squeaking door.
But, to her complete surprise, when the door had swung fully ajar, she was met with the sight of a familiar red-haired girl clad in a long white dress; sitting frozen in a velour-cushioned seat and sipping tea from an ornate mug.
"Malon?" Zelda called, unsure if her weary eyes were merely playing a cruel trick on her.
The ranch girl peeked up from her teacup, teal eyes as wide as porcelain saucers. "Princess Zelda! I'm so happy you were available to see me today!"
A fragile grin fluttered onto Zelda's face, and a wash of color stippled her pinched cheeks. "Oh, Malon. It's lovely to see you."
"You as well, Princess Zelda," Malon remarked. "Come on in! I have a few things I'd like to discuss."
Zelda shuffled inside the pleasant room and closed the rasping door behind herself. Ridges of fear continued to dapple her thoughts, however, she forced herself to shift her focus, instead settling on the genuine eagerness that had bubbled to the surface simply from seeing Malon.
Zelda had met Malon years ago when they were both callow and juvenile school kids. She could recall their heartwarming chats full of cackling laughter and their harmless pranks played on their teacher and classmates alike. It hadn't felt like much time had passed between them, however, in truth, a large chunk of years had slipped away since they last had a chance to connect. With Zelda being roped into additional royal obligations, and Malon taking charge of her ranch's business - the two simply lost their bond, relegated to a chaste greeting when they spotted each other in passing.
"So," Zelda began, a twinge of fatigue trailing her words. "To what do I owe the honor?"
Malon playfully scoffed in return. "Please, Princess Zelda. The honor is all mine!"
With a gentle snort, Zelda trudged further into the room. She wedged herself into a quilted chair situated across from Malon, with speckles and sparks of creasing pain flickering through her body. Once stationed, Zelda meticulously crossed her legs and folded her hands atop her seated lap.
Now fully in the room, she absorbed the finer details splayed before her; the biscuit-colored rug placed snugly beneath their seats, the precious paintings of her family's generations scattered across each wall, and, most notably, the tiered food tray settled on the quaint table between them, filled with doughy rolls of bread and cubes of thickened jelly.
Zelda drew her eyes to the ranch girl in front of her and leaned back gently, gaze curious, before asking, "What did you want to see me about, Malon? It's been quite some time since we last spoke."
"Right, well…" Malon tilted her head downwards, fidgeting with her fingers. "Um, do you know how Link is doing, by chance?" Her face ignited into blazing crimson, and her voice raised an octave as she hastily added, "I-I'm only asking because I know you two are close! I haven't seen him visit my Lon Lon Milk cart in two days now, and, well, he used to stop by every day." Malon breathed out a lumbered sigh after her admission, still visibly flustered. A sudden downtrodden seriousness fringed her movements, and her nervous shuffling slowed to a halt, with her voice coming out in a shaky breath, "I'm worried."
Malon's confession shot directly through the ceramic barrier encasing Zelda's frail sensibility.
What was Zelda to say? Her father had explicitly told her to lie about Link's condition. If people were to question his absence, she was to supply a story that he was visiting family or something to that comparable effect. With luck on her side, no one had yet questioned her about his whereabouts - that is, not until now.
Now, she had Malon shuffling miserably in front of her, clearly uncomfortable, with concern glowing like a signboard from her cherry blush. If Zelda lied to her, she was certain that Malon would ascertain the truth eventually - if not from Link's own mouth when he was finally freed. Worse, if Zelda lied to her, a darkened rift would snap between the two of them, and the most likely outcome of that situation would be total ostracization and disdain.
Malon hesitantly looked up, glimpsing at Zelda. It was in that moment, with the blend of unmitigated fear and deafening strength coalescing behind Malon's irises - much too similar to the emotions that saddled Zelda's heavy heart - that fractured her composure completely. "Link is… in trouble," Zelda admitted.
"Trouble?"
"Yes, he's… he's trapped, Malon." Zelda pinched the bridge of her nose as tense static swept through her body. "Two days ago, Link was stationed to watch the Four Sword Sanctuary during the night. Vaati was somehow released from the Four Sword, and once he had escaped he imprisoned Link in stone, turning him into a statue. Vaati disappeared afterward, with no sign of his whereabouts… but, we do have Link. He's actually here, stored in the castle."
Malon's pupils dilated. Her mouth opened in an effort to speak, but only acrid silence rent the air, fastening a slab of tension in its place. A bleached and raspy, "H-how?" was all that managed to tumble from her lips.
"I don't know how," Zelda said. "I was woken in the middle of the night when it happened. I was summoned to my father's chambers where I… I saw Link. As a statue, that is." Zelda's fingers curved inwards and hugged her palms. Her nails were sharp, biting hard enough to almost draw blood from her shallow flesh. She continued, "I'm sorry to divulge this much information to you so suddenly, Malon. I know it's overwhelming to hear, but I knew I couldn't lie to you, either… to be honest, I was supposed to lie to you about this situation, but… I believe you deserve to hear the truth."
Overflowing tension proceeded to choke the room, expanding in its sinewy presence. Malon's head hung low. Her eyes seemed to be wholly fixated on her bunched-up skirt.
"There's one thing I didn't tell you quite yet," Zelda proceeded. "My father, King Daltus, has tasked a specialized team of guards to pursue Vaati, and also to determine a way to help Link. Granted, I'm not so sure they'll be able to get much done, but..." with a tired puff of her chest, Zelda pinned her fists to her sides and mustered up as much confidence as she could before exclaiming, "That is exactly why I've devised a secret plan of my own! In fact, I've already secured the first item needed to save Link and simultaneously vanquish Vaati, as well. I'm doing everything in my power to rescue him as soon as possible. Malon, I promise you, on my status, that I will be attending to this issue personally."
Malon's head drew upwards again. She locked her quivering gaze onto Zelda's. "Can I see him?"
"Y-you want to see Link?"
"I do," Malon muttered, "I believe everything you've told me. I just… I want to see him while I'm here, since you mentioned he was in Hyrule Castle."
Zelda deflated, feeling immediately overwound. "You do know that we'd have to sneak around a guard or two to do so, right? I know which room he's being kept in, but they'd never allow someone outside of the royal family into it… We'd need to slip in from a window that overlooks the garden, instead."
"Alright," Malon said, "Then let's do it."
With regret and fatigue now perforating her core, Zelda hesitated - fermenting the idea in her mind. "Only on one condition," she intoned.
"Which is?"
Zelda sighed, exhaling a tangle of guilt and distress. Should I have even told her about this? Perhaps it'll cause more trouble in the long run... I do trust Malon, but, I've already disobeyed my father by telling Master Smith, too. With a shake of her clouded head, Zelda finitely spoke, "You must promise me that you will never tell anyone about what I've told you today."
Malon's head bobbed understandingly, her copper hair rustling concurrently with her movements. "Of course, Princess Zelda! You have my binding promise."
Zelda's eyes shut for a second, basking in the soothing limbo of darkness that she longed to be fully cloaked in - packed to the gills. It wasn't smart to be forgoing sleep for this unending length of time, she knew, but there was little that could be done to change that. She would need to do as she always did.
Continue barreling forward. For Link, she reminded herself.
As she opened her eyes, allowing the blaring lights and blurred outlines of her surroundings to sharpen back into focus, Zelda conceded, "Alright, then. We'll go see Link." Malon's lips contorted into a bittersweet smile as Zelda plucked an overly-sugared cube of jelly from the food tray in front of them, adding, "Let's at least eat a little first. We'll need the energy."
They lurked outside, seated on the edge of a fountain that spouted streams of crystalline water beneath the crisp sky and birling clouds. The window that barred Link within was perfectly in view, reflecting the sun's bountiful rays of light back at them like a glass boomerang. Only a handful of stout hedges blocked the pair from their target, and yet, they were unable to sneak in - as just within sight loitered an unaccompanied guard who seemed to be surveying the area.
Zelda strategically eyed the guard ahead, leaving Malon to prattle animatedly beside her, pretending that the two had strolled out to the garden for nothing more than a humble conversation surrounded by various contrasting flora.
"These flowers are beautiful, Princess Zelda. Do you know what kind they are, by any chance?" Malon asked.
"Hm," Zelda started, "Most of the flowers in our garden are Swift Violets, but we also have a few crossbreeds with Heart Flowers, Hibiscus, and Ice Roses." She languidly tapped her chin in thought, her eyes still lingering on the patrolling guard nearby. "I once heard we have a few smaller flowers called Pico Flowers around here somewhere. Link had told me that, but, I don't think I've ever seen one."
An unfeigned look of surprise smeared over Malon's features as she hastily replied, "Wow! You sure know a thing or two about the flowers here."
"Well, I personally requested for most of these flower breeds to be propagated here in the past few years. It makes sense that I would know a lot about them."
Zelda tilted her head to show a trifling smile in Malon's direction, but an eager nudge on her uninjured arm diverted her attention instead. It had been Malon who had nudged her, as Zelda quickly noticed the discreet finger the ranch girl held, pointed in the direction of the lone guard idling nearby. Zelda turned her gaze back, her eyes brimming with hopeful expectation.
In the neighboring distance, the guard pressed his extensive spear into the cemented walkway. His body turned in all directions, lingering a second longer on Zelda and Malon's feathery silhouettes. Zelda's mangled breath blew hot and cold, with her restless anxiety bubbling to the surface in a stream of destruction, threatening to topple over - when, slowly, the guard turned away. With his armored back now facing the pair, he trampled ahead, vanishing into nothing more than a metallic speck.
Malon was the first to whisper, "Should we go now?"
Zelda nodded, catching her breath. "Yes. This area should be clear of guards for the next couple of minutes as patrol routes shift." She narrowed her stare and spent her concentration forward, feeling a wrinkle crimp the space between her eyebrows. "Follow me."
Taking the lead, Zelda shuffled ahead. The route was short and linear - before long, she stood underneath their targeted alabaster window, kneading the swollen joints of her limbs. Malon scurried behind her, with her heavy boots vibrating on the cement pathways and tendrils of grass alike.
Beside them, a choppy oak stump was rooted in place, nestled behind a row of preened shrubbery. The rings spiraling its open bark were plentiful, indicating that it had been a mature and owlish tree before meeting its ill-fated end. An outlandish interstice seemed to have been spiraling into its core, with the sun-baked wood almost appearing curiously hollow.
Zelda inched on top of the tree stump, mindfully watching her balance to accommodate her weakened state. From the corner she stood by, the top of her head almost reached the bottom of the windowsill, with her blonde hair presumably peaking just outside of the window's threshold and into a visible viewpoint inside. Her calf muscles extended as she rose her body up, pushing her weight onto her toes - while, simultaneously, her knees began to quiver, almost buckling from the added pressure applied to her incensed muscles.
With the supplementary height, Zelda was able to peek inside the somber room. There were no discernable movements that caught her eye, nor any flashes of color to indicate someone was inside. The room looked vacant and dull, save for a crackle of sunlight that spread itself onto the floor.
"How will we get in?" Malon questioned from the ground beside Zelda, a hint of nervousness rising in her voice.
"Simple." With an impish grin dashed on her face, Zelda cascaded her weight back onto the soles of her feet. In one graceful motion, she bent her body forward and raised the dense, cotton hem of her dress just above her ankle, revealing the polished glint of a dagger stuffed within one of her archery boots. "My dress is long enough to disguise my shoes, so I wore my archery boots from practice earlier to keep a dagger on my person."
Malon's eyes widened. "You… you brought a dagger?!"
"Of course," Zelda said. "Before I went to see you, I was alerted by a maid that somebody had requested my presence, yet she couldn't recall your name. She sent me by myself, completely unattended. I had to be prepared." With a mild shrug, she added, "Either way, it will be of perfect use to us now."
The brilliant teal of Malon's irises darkened, bordering with skepticism, as she watched Zelda seize the dagger in her hand with a familiar conviction. Zelda merely straightened her posture - feeling each biting pang of the injuries scored on her body - and lifted herself back onto her toes, facing the window.
With a pearl of sweat beginning to trace her forehead, Zelda carefully smoothed the dagger between the windowsill and latch. The blade skimmed the brick construction with ease until it reached the center, colliding with a hunk of metal that released a cursory screech on impact. It's been quite some time since I've done this, she absentmindedly thought.
She jammed the tip of her dagger into the blockade, wriggling and shimmying the blade with as much strength as she could muster. The window coughed powdery dust and soil in retaliation, belting out wooden prayers with each twist of the knife.
Until abruptly, a sharpened click nipped the air. With trembling fingers, Zelda gripped underneath the bottom windowpane and began to propel it upwards, ensuring the latch had correctly given way. The window stirred ahead as she pushed, up until it settled as far it could go and locked onto the upper railings.
With the window secured and propped open, Zelda took a modicum of time to recollect herself and prepare for the greater task ahead. Keeping herself pressed lightly against the windowsill with her injured arm, she stored the dagger back in her boot, swiveling it briefly to ensure it was stable. A soft sigh trailed her exhaling breath, as she used her free hand to brush past her tangled hair and wipe her forehead with the back of her palm.
Still on her toes, Zelda glanced at Malon and muttered decisively, "Alright, are you ready to head inside?"
Malon stood in place, gawking at the opened window. "I am, but… how will we do that?"
"I'll head in first, and then pull you up."
In a show of unearned confidence, Zelda securely gripped the windowsill with both hands, feeling the loose strands of her muscles weep from the simple gesture alone. For just a moment, her eyes closed in concentration, and her breathing stilled. Focus on the movement, not the pain, she repeated internally as a mantra.
Finally, her palms flattened on the windowsill, and she pulled her body weight towards the opening. Her eyes unbolted in shock; with bristly tears collecting in her tear ducts and stinging her skin on contact. Her puncture wound roared in agony, and Zelda could only see everything behind a reddened filter of pain as her body ascended upwards. Yet still, she did not scream. Focus on the movement, not the pain.
Her foot found purchase on an uneven slab in the wall as she raised her body, and she used it to provide the final boost needed to tumble through the window and land inside. Withering breaths gathered in her chest and escaped her lungs as she lay scrawled in an addled pile, collected in the knitting of the rug below her. Her shoulder throbbed furiously, echoing a disharmonic melody of festering anguish and ichor in her ears; deafening the gentle thrum of her heartbeat to nothing more than a merciful purr.
Below, she could hear Malon, calling out to her in a voice barely above a whisper, "Nice work, Princess Zelda! You made it!"
Zelda's head reeled, sloshed, and whirled. An icy grip of frost and tormenting cloak of fire snaked through her limbs as her hand cradled her shoulder, feeling the all too familiar cling of sticky, fresh blood thinly pool onto her palm. I'll just have to rebandage this later, she reasoned. As much as she wanted to remain on the ground, she was acutely aware that she needed to get up.
She rolled onto her right side and gradually lifted her body into a staggered, upright position. A persisting blur of red clouded her vision as she examined Malon's form outside. "Okay, Malon, it's your turn. Step onto the tree stump underneath the window and I'll help pull you into the room," Zelda said.
Without contention, Malon did as Zelda said. She warily trudged onto the open-faced stump with her arms pressed into the sky and her almond eyes overflowing with vigor. From above, Zelda angled her body at the edge of the windowsill and latched onto Malon's hands with one of her own, hoisting her slightly into the snarled air.
"There's a - a loose brick midway you can push off of," Zelda heaved, exerting the remaining few snippets of her strength.
"A-alright." Malon's foot swiveled in the air until it caught onto the curved outline of the rickety brick. She pushed against it and bounded further up, gaining just enough momentum to allow Zelda to fully wrench her into the room.
Once inside, Malon's breathing was unsteady as she curved over her body with her palms forced onto her thighs, striving to compose herself. Behind her, Zelda dutifully closed the window and peered outside, verifying that the trove of guardsmen were still moving positions and hadn't noticed them clamber into this area.
Zelda pivoted on her foot, staring into the expanse of the room they had secretly gained access to. It was compact, filled with haggard bookshelves that almost reached the tiles of the ceiling above. Rows of fading books were stashed within these shelving units, but most seemed primordial, with gashes and missing titles drawing her eyes upon them. Bronzed sconces lined the edges of each wall, with melted candle wax jumbled in aged heaps, and wandering dust particles paraded in the stale and muggy air, visible under the scrutiny of the scant light that lingered inside.
It had been years since Zelda had set foot in this room. The texts that were housed inside were hardly useful, primarily serving as ancient journals from members of her family tree. She supposed that the frivolous nature of this room is what made it perfect for concealing Link within; the realization of his close proximity sending a flutter of distress through her spine.
As Malon's breathing finally evened out, she muttered, "I don't see Link." Her head careened around the room peculiarly, eyes locking onto shadowed corners and peering behind each lanky bookshelf.
"Right," Zelda replied, "He should be hidden even deeper. One of the bookshelves pressed against the wall can be moved to reveal a hidden compartment behind it, I believe."
Zelda ambled towards one such unassuming bookshelf and tapped her knuckle onto a slab of wood that twinkled in the dim light, free of any books blocking its way. A hollow thump echoed from the action, confirming Zelda's suspicions.
"Okay, we need to push this bookshelf away," she said, looking straight at Malon. "Let's move this together."
Malon nodded and strode next to Zelda's position, pinning her weight onto the corner of the bookshelf and ramming forward. Zelda, employing only the use of her right arm, shoved and propelled in tandem, using the last dregs of strength in her body that she could gather.
A carpeted vibration prickled the room as the pair pushed the hulking object. Inch by inch it stuttered along the floor - a parabolic hole densely revealing itself with every advancement they made.
Then, the bookshelf halted, suddenly pressed against the crumbling board of its adjacent neighbor. Both Malon and Zelda froze, linking fretful eyes. They cautiously turned their gaze to the crevice now undone, that had once laid in secrecy behind the bookshelf.
Standing in his mineralized glory, sword brandished and midway into a battle cry, was none other than Link.
Zelda wordlessly stared at him. It had only been two days, and yet, it felt like a lifetime. How had so much changed in such little time? She wished more than anything that Link could be here, in the flesh, soothing her ragged mind and heart. Why did this have to happen? Why did it have to be Link?
Just as a fiery rage threatened to incinerate the loose threads of her mind and numb her emotions, she heard a flimsy sniffle pierce the thick silence next to her. She turned her head towards Malon, noticing a trail of salty tears leaking down her flushed cheeks.
"Malon…"
"I just," Malon shakily began, "Can't believe it."
Zelda averted her gaze, choosing to instead focus on the intricate patterns that emblazoned the velvet rug they stood upon.
Malon rubbed her eyes and turned away from Link's ungiving form, facing Zelda. "Thank you, Princess Zelda… for telling me the truth. I have no doubt in my mind that you will be able to save Link."
A melancholic smile emerged on Zelda's wearied features.
"I have something I should tell you," Malon said. A rogue tear spilled from one of her misted eyes as she began speaking, "The other day I walked to Lake Hylia, as I was searching for a few wild seeds and anything else that could be of use to the animals on our ranch. I had walked near the lake when something bright caught my eye, and I went to investigate." Malon paused and inhaled a jittery puff of air, ostensibly tense. "Well, I'm still not quite sure what it was, but I was unable to pull it out. It seemed to be encased in this bizarre ice sculpture on the shallow end of the lake, but no fire that I brought over was able to melt it, either."
Zelda's ears twitched. "Oh?"
"I think… I think it might be powerful," Malon murmured. "I'm not too sure, but, I almost wonder if it could help Link? You said you have a plan, and… I want to help, if I can. If you think this could be useful, why don't you meet me at Lon Lon Ranch tonight? We can head to Lake Hylia together, and you can see for yourself what I'm talking about."
A range of questions swiftly crowded Zelda's mind, though, one stuck out amongst the clutter and spoilage: Could Malon be talking about the Water Element?
Zelda could vaguely recall a smudged circle covering the Lake Hylia corner of the map Link had given her, though she hadn't studied it closely enough to verify exactly where in Lake Hylia the artifact lingered. Malon's information had been hazy as well, but by description alone…
If I go tonight, I won't be able to sleep again. Hesitation collided with the lethargy that was sowed deeply into Zelda's veins. But this could be my only shot if what Malon saw is still in Lake Hylia, assuming Vaati hasn't taken it yet. I can't risk losing one of the Four Elements now…
With a deep-rooted exhale, Zelda responded, "I'll go. I can meet you at Lon Lon Ranch around midnight, after I've finished working on the Picori Festival preparations."
Malon shifted her stance back towards Link. The flowing white and blue of her linen dress resembled rust in the flattened lighting. Her posture was resinous and malleable, akin to boiling metal, and her voice sputtered with untold heartache as she responded, "I think we should leave now."
Zelda, too, looked closely at Link. The stifling room made his appearance utterly lifeless, yet the warmth in his eyes prevailed and subsisted. He had been artificially chiseled into stone, forced into an indeterminate and amorphous existence, and yet - he was still Link. Zelda was confident that she could save him; release him from the confines of rubble and bedrock.
Tentatively, Zelda reached out and clasped her hand on Malon's shoulder, transferring any remnants of reassurance she had to the ranch girl. "Alright," Zelda voiced, "Let's move this bookshelf back into place first. I'll watch outside afterward for our opening to escape."
As the pair began their laborious process of returning the room to its original façade - lugging the bookshelf back into place, ensuring no books had scattered when they had toppled into the area - Zelda vacillated; her mind a lawless cyclone. Was she making the right decisions? Was she truly helping Link? Or, worse yet, was she making the situation worse - and playing right into Vaati's clandestine trap?
The sun slipped further into the horizon, pilfering scattered shafts of light. The freckling of rays in the room vanished, leaving both Zelda and Malon in ashen clarity. Dusk was emerging, and with it, the purpled troughs underneath Zelda's eyes darkened, too.
It was going to be another onerous night.