In Hyrule Castle, Ronan struggled to stay awake. These graveyard shifts in the Entrance Hall were the worst, not even allowing him the luxury of pacing the empty Sanctum and towers in a pointless patrol. Just guard the door and its growing collection of kingdom curiosities. "The Docent Shift," his buddies in the Royal Guard called it, laughing off his assignment amongst the lovingly restored ancient weaponry and armor greeting slack-jawed Tarrey Town families and Purah Pad-toting Gorons on holiday. They loved pointing out that they were out where the real action was, corralling drunks around New Castle Town and the odd Bokoblin straying too far from its cave for a local's liking.
In truth, there were no exciting deployments any longer, and hadn't been since Ronan and his friends were still in school. In their earliest memories they had watched Calamity Ganon snake this very Sanctum, knowing nothing but the specter of ruin staining every vista. Only a few short years later, they watched helplessly as a volcano of Gloom Storm catapulted the structure into the sky. Dark horizons and unspeakable dread were a way of life, one they had no reason to expect would vanish as quickly as it had come. This Hyrule of restoration and leisure had little use for any of its last lines of defense, the dangers and terrors of just seven years ago receding into a past most people seemed content to forget. Even Princess Zelda was rarely in the castle nowadays, putting off her accession indefinitely while the monarchy's seat was lovingly restored only to become this testament to the past. The Royal Guard force was just as ceremonial as the last-stand cannons hauled in from the Citadel.
At this hour there was a palpable spookiness that cloaked the soaring ceiling and imposing throne, an energy fed by the storytellers and whispered legends of the evils that had manifested above this very stone. Even this collection of objects–masks and jewels and shields–hinted at an eerie purpose, and a terrible price.
Which is why the creak of the Sanctum doors sent him jumping out of his skin.
From the parted doors emerged Princess Zelda, giggling as she side-stepped between the narrow crack the portals left, as if this was still her father's castle and she was sneaking in after curfew. Her hair was shorter than it had been during her last visit, months ago, now in the same style depicted in so many paintings and murals and children's art projects celebrating the Dragon Goddess's Triumph. Her clothes too were almost identical to the hood and bodice that was deemed so iconic to recent Hyrulean history that he could effortlessly conjure them in his own casual mind's eye. As she wore them now, seven years later, they looked strangely ceremonial–as if she were in costume.
A few moments later the door opened wider, heaved by the Hero of Time who also seemed in unusually good spirits. Even with his increasing absence alongside the Princess in the seven years since The Upheaval, Ronan had found himself in close proximity to the knight enough times to brag about it. And, in fact, he'd never seen a grin like this. It was refreshing, if not a bit unorthodox. Maybe all that time holed up in Lanayru was good for him. Maybe Ronan should look into transfers.
"Your Highness," he said, snapping to attention. The Princess turned her smile to him, brushing her fingertips against her lips to silence the creeping laughter. "We weren't expecting you," he blurted out, instantly regretting the implication. This was her home after all, Hateno Village hideaway or not.
"I'm sorry for coming in so late," she said. "We've just been traveling all day and I'm exhausted. The last place I wanted to spend the night was an Inn, you know?"
"Of course, your Highness. Your chambers have been maintained–would you like me to send anything up for you?"
"No no no, I've troubled you enough already," she assured him, taking a long moment to examine the towering Sanctum. He hoped she was satisfied with how they'd kept it in her absence, that this minimized watch did mean… well, something. This was, after all, her legacy. Perhaps the only such purpose she'd ever been able to choose for herself. Her eyes turned to Link, summoning him forward with the slightest tic of a nod.
The Hero followed.
Closely.
Not the six paces back of an unfamiliar bodyguard, not the three paces back of a trusted guard, not the step behind of an intimate protector. Side by side, almost touching, leaning into each other like children sharing a secret.
Ronan hadn't had the pleasure of a conversation with the tight-lipped Hero of Time. They were only vaguely contemporaries. But if he could be certain of one thing about the legendary stranger, it was that he was not one to forget himself. Especially amongst his brethren, even if that was only a brethren of one amidst an almost-deserted castle.
The equation snapped together in Ronan's mind and, with a loud cough, he backed himself toward the wall behind him. Link and the Princess turned just in time to see the column pedestal wobble, and the egg-shaped pottery placed atop it tremble before slipping to the stone floor.
Zelda simply watched, unmoving, as the precious vessel shattered into a thousand fragments.
Her conspiratorial giggle darkened as she turned to Ronan. "Well aren't you the clever little patrol," she snarled, taking a step closer to his drawn spear. She examined the pile of lavender rubble at his feet, a little tsk tsk escaping from her lips. "That nerd of a princess never would have let that happen, would she?"
"YIGA!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, the curse ricocheting off the buttresses to no one. The closest reinforcement was Captain Hoz in the Guard House, taking these hours to draft out his battle histories. Another relic in the library.
Ronan scarcely felt Link emerge behind him before the Vicious Sickle ripped his throat straight out of his neck. "Don't worry," Zelda whispered as the torchlight faded from his eyes. "This new world won't miss you."