Chapter 47: Fearful Past Causes a Fearful Future

Coroto was asleep, his body twisting in uncomfortable fits, making his stony skin scratch against his slab of a bed. He shuddered and clutched with his hands, his cheeks still glistened from his tears. The poor man was still tormented. From the way he acted at the news, it seemed likely that he would be for a long time to come. But at least he was asleep. Bulira gently placed her hand on the stone-giant's head and rubbed. Her arm still hurt from when he clutched her, when he first learned of his loss. It would bruise, the man had meant no harm, she knew that. But still she'd be paying for her kindness for some days.

The princess and the knight that helped her bring the Goron to his chambers stood quietly a step behind her. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that she helped Sir Jora. After all the knight had done most the work of leading the ambassador through the castle as he cried half mad with grief. If it had depended on her, it would have failed.

Bulira rubbed the poor man's forehead one more time before she stood. Taking the scroll that brought news of Coroto's families death she found a desk as far from his bed as she could find and set it down. Taking a moment she arranged some of the items on the surface in such a way that when Coroto woke up he would not see it.

Once the initial sorrow was gone, Coroto would want to keep the letter. Most of those who lose family do. And if he didn't he at least had the opportunity to throw the letter out himself. But it should not be the first thing he sees when he awakens, nor the second, or third, or hundredth.

"Someone should stay with him," Bulira whispered to the other two. "I have known many who have faced this loss. When Coroto awakens, that will be near as cruel a time as when he opened the letter." She thought of her own letters she received. When Bulira was only sixteen her brave older sister, Nabooru, went to fight in the civil war. Her mother was already gone. And when the message came that she was killed, not in some glorious battle, but an accident with a siege weapon. It almost broke her. She was so alone. "For some, even worse."

She opened her mouth, to urge the others to go and live their day. Let her stay with the poor man. But, then she felt the chill go up her spine. There had been another message delivered that morning. One that came from no scroll or parchment, one that had been for her. She would be visited that night, and she would never forgive herself if Coroto somehow became involved. "I'd do it myself, but… I can't."

"You can't?" The princess looked to her. Wide-eyed and oh so perceptive. Every moment with the girl was reminding her more and more of Gan. The intelligence, the drive to understand everything around them. But mostly, looking on the girl reminded Bulira what she knew all those years ago.

Children were not meant to have kingdoms placed on their shoulders. They should still be learning about the responsibilities of their later life. But not to have all of it thrust on them at once. The witches had done it to Gan as a child, and even in this glistening palace, the little princess Zelda had bags under her eyes and a serious turn about her. The kind that only comes from knowing the responsibilities of the world.

It was a cruel world that placed all that on a child. But then, Bulira knew as well as anyone how cruel the world could be.

"There are… " What could Bulira tell her? What could she get away with saying? What would her punishment be if she spoke too freely? "I have… people coming to see me tonight. I cannot keep them waiting."

"No matter," Sir Jora nodded to her and took her hand. "I only have letters I wish to write. One of them to your daughter, as it happens. I can stay with our friend tonight."

He was such a good man. They had broken bread together almost daily since Bulira came to Hyrule. He wanted to know everything about her daughter. Then after she told him all the best stories, he simply wanted to know Bulira. He brought her the best cloth to sew with, and took her to musical performances the likes of which she had never experienced before.

A good choice from her daughter. But that was no surprise, she had named the girl well. As passionate and intelligent as her namesake, and four times the warrior.

"Thank you, Sir Jora," she managed to smile.

"Yes," Zelda said. "Thank you, Sir Jora. If Coroto needs anything feel free to call for me or my father."

"I will, your highness." The knight bowed his head to both of them in sincere respect.

Bulira and the princess left the ambassadors quarters together. Bulira was sweating, she could feel some of it rolling down the back of her neck. How much longer did she have?

"So, you have visitors?" the princess asked as they walked.

Bulira brushed her forehead before she answered. "Yes, from home." Her stomach tightened as she lied.

"Anyone important?"

Possibly the most terrible people in all the world. "No, no one you'd have heard of your highness."

"And I see you have grown close to Sir Jora."

"He is a true knight. He holds up the stories of their honor I used to hear in the desert."

"You heard stories of knightly honor? One would think that any tales told would cast them as villains. You were at war with them for the last hundred years."

"They often were, but occasionally there would be stories about the truly great among them. When a knight's skill at arms and … I don't know the word you Hylians would have for it, but sincere goodness in their behavior. Those knights could be portrayed as both honorable and enemy."

"Hmm," the little girl said. Clearly working through the words, analyzing them and their meaning. "Do you have any examples of who your people considered the honorable knights?"

"Oh a fair few. The Duke Arlan is one, there was one tale told of his capture of Matron Konoru's daughter, and the respect he gave both her and her mother. When I was little, even younger than you, there was a knight called Sir Fressi of the Golden Spear."

"Oh, I've heard of him. Was he considered truly honorable?"

"It was said when he broke the Great Gate of Kah'Noh he made certain that every Gerudo who did not take up arms against him was given safety from his soldiers and food before he sent them away into the desert."

"Is that so good? That sounds like how knights are supposed to behave to me."

"And yet, so few do. Even Duke Arlan has overseen the destruction caused by great armies."

That made the princess pause and make a face of some distaste. "Who else?"

"Oh?" One name came to Bulira's mind, one face she knew well. She spoke his name before she thought to stop herself. "There was Sir Godwyn, of course."

The princess stop. "Sir Godwyn the Faithless?" She spat out the words like venom. "Godwyn the Traitor? The one sworn to protect my mother and father and chose to abandon his vows and his people? Of course your people would like him! He joined your side, didn't he?"

Bulira faced the girl and shook her head. "No, that's not what happened. He never betrayed you. He never broke his vows."

"But he fled Hyrule, and joined your people. My father told me was the one who trained Ganondorf in swordsmanship."

"And your father is right. He was the greatest warrior of his age, and the Twinrova wished for only the best."

"Then how was he not a traitor?"

Bulira grimaced, that uncomfortable pit in her stomach growing all the worse. "Some things, are just not under your control, your highness. Do not think ill of poor Sir Godwyn. He would have returned to your mother and father's service if he could."

The princess crossed her arms in disbelief. "There had to be something he could have done, if that were true."

What more could she say to that? What would the girl believe? And would she condemn Bulira if she knew all of it? Wouldn't anyone?

Bulira was spared continuing the conversation as the princess' Sheikah guard appeared and once more fear gripped Bulira. The dark shadowy reminder of the Hylian's own evil. When she was young, she used to think whatever horrors the Gerudo did upon their enemy justified from merely the stories about what the Sheikah did.

Monsters. All of them monsters. How had she become surrounded by them?

"Your highness," the red-eyed demoness said with a bow. "Matron Bulira."

"Lady Impa," Bulira squeaked.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, your highness," the Sheikah continued. "But there were some issues with the task you gave me. Perhaps we can speak about it more in private."

"Very well, take care, Matron Bulira."

"Yes, thank you, your highness. It was a pleasure, as always." Bulira bowed. She watched as the two moved away, wrapping her arms around herself in some slight comfort. She was not made for this. She should return to the Boar-Head clan, live in some small corner of the world where she could help raise the children and teach them how to survive the desert. Leave the world of witches, assassins, magic, and lies behind her completely.

But they would never let her go.

Bulira walked alone the rest of the way to her rooms. Every time she opened the doors and saw where she lived it amazed her. Far grander than any she had lived in all her days. With a comfortable bed and furniture with thick padding. She could sit down in one of those chairs for hours at a time with no ache in her back or legs. There was not a chair like that in all of the desert. And in this room alone she was given three.

If anyone had told her that this was how royalty lived in Hyrule she would not have believed them. It felt wrong, almost as if she was committing a heinous sin by living here. When she knew her sisters in the desert lived with so little.

But what good would all the comfortable chairs, thick walls, or even the many guards that roamed the halls do, when the Twinrova arrived? They had to be close now. They told her in her dreams they would be coming, and no matter where she was in all the wide world they would find her.

She locked her door, and sank into one of those chairs. But today it offered her no comfort at all.

What could they possibly want? She had done everything they asked. Everything. She had cooked for them, cleaned for them. When their training went too far and they hurt Gan, she had tended his wounds. And when he was old enough to rule, she thought she could be done.

But even now they haunt her.

They arrived at the Hall of Matrons and ordered the council on who to send to Hyrule. Why? She could think of reasons why the Twinrova would want Ashdin and Rijya, they knew war. Ashdin was vicious enough to strain the alliance between Hyrule and Gerudo, and Rijya was clever enough to keep the Most-Feared in check.

But why her? Why had the witches found it necessary to send her here as well? They never did anything without a reason.

Time moved slowly as she thought on the mistakes of her life. Several times servants knocked when they found the door locked and tried to enter. But Bulira told them all away, as politely as she could. The last thing any of them needed was to stumble upon the witches when they arrived.

Bulira shuddered at the memories of what those two might do to unwanted eyes.

The light through the windows climbed slowly up the wall, growing dimmer as the Sun fell. And still Bulira sat in silence, waiting for her unwanted guests. Every moment the dreadful pit in her stomach growing more painful. She felt she was going to throw up, to shake so violently with fear that her body would be ground down to ash.

The light was gone. And Bulira was alone.

"There she is, sister," came a cackling voice from the shadows.

"I see her, I see her. Yes. Yes. Yes."

From the darkest corner of the room, two lights flickered into being. Crest-gems glowed with unnatural splendor, affixed to the foreheads of two shriveled old faces.

"Slave, why do you sit before us?" Kotake hissed.

"Have you forgotten your place?" Koume snarled.

"No, my mistresses," Bulira's knees creaked as she fell forward out of her chair and onto the floor. "I am sorry, I did not mean-"

"Has she grown proud?" Koume asked.

"I hope not, dear sister. What has she to be proud about?"

"Strutting as she is with royalty, with people of actual importance? Did she think herself one of them?"

"She could not be so foolish, dear sister, could she? Has she has forgotten what she truly is? How little she matters?"

"No," Bulira bowed her head. "No, I am sorry, dread Twinrova. I was merely surprised by your presence. I am at your command. I am always at your command."

"Good," the witches surrounded her.

"We plucked you from a dying tribe."

"Pregnant and starving."

"You had not had anything to drink in near two days."

"We saved you."

"We saved your unborn daughter."

"Have you forgotten?"

"No, sweet Koume and wise Kotake. I never could forget the mercy you showed me."

"Then have you forgotten the price that mercy was bought with?" Kotake hissed into Bulira's ear.

"No. My life is yours. I remember. I remember." Please believe me.

"Then why do I smell resistance upon you?" Koume's pointed nails dug into Bulira's shoulder, sending tremors down her back.

"We should punish her."

"Stomp out this spirit of freedom while we can. Yes."

"I have no such spirit!" Bulira sobbed. "I will do anything you ask. Please, don't hurt me again."

"Good, slave."

Kotake's finger snaked under Bulira's chin and forced her head up until there eyes met. "And we will reward you, for your service."

"As we always do."

"We are not so cruel of masters, are we?"

"Look where you live? Such comfort, such splendor!" Koume waved at the wide room with its comfortable chairs and elegant art on its walls.

"No, kind Twinrova. No, you are… you are just."

The twins smiled and Kotake removed her hand. Bulira immediately ducked her head back down.

"How may I serve you, great and powerful Twinrova?"

"The boy defies our will," Koume said, releasing Bulira from the grasp on her shoulder.

"He is so close," Kotake continued. "Closer than all the other kings that came before him."

"But now on the precipice of greatness."

"Of true power!"

"He is being tempted to put it all away."

"To stop his war."

"To end his grasp for godhood!"

"To give up, coward that he is."

Bulira dared to glanced up. Was it true? Was Gan going to put his dangerous plans behind him?

"There, I smell it again." Koume pressed her large nose close and sniffed.

"That filthy stink of trying to defy us."

"No," Bulira pressed her head back against the floor. "No, I wouldn't."

"I have my doubts, sister."

"So many and well justified, I thinks."

Kotake chuckled, her voice rose to a higher pitch. "I should have stolen you both away. Ohhh booohooo."

Bulira's eyes went wide and her heart pounded in her chest so loud she knew the witches heard it. "I didn't mean-"

"She must prove herself, dear sister."

"How?" Bulira said. "I will do whatever you wish."

"The craven boy listens to you."

"Like a mewling babe, begging for approval."

"You make him weak."

"You make him defy our will."

The two stepped before her and spoke in unison. "You must put an end to it."

"But, how?" Bulira said. "He is far away. How can I help? He does not listen to me on matters of war."

"But he does listen to you," Koume laughed.

"And in his sleep he will listen to you, again."

Four thin clawlike hands grabbed onto Bulira's head. Bulira squeezed her eyes shut as tight as she could. Pain shot through her mind.

She was falling. Falling.

No.

Flying, over all of Hyrule. She could feel her eyes were still closed, but she could sense all that was around her. She could still feel the wooden floor of the castle pressing against her knees and forearms. And yest she was soaring across vast plains of grass and rivers, rivers filled with rushing water. More water than Bulira had ever seen in her life. She flew up the side of the mountain passing over stone and ice until she reached the war camp.

She fell through the top of a tent, but it did not tear beneath her.

The boy she considered her son, lay within. Sleeping between sheets too small for him, half his legs poking out from the blankets. He looked cold.

"He is asleep," one of the Twinrova hissed. Bulira tried to look about her. But she had no neck to turn, nor eyes to glance about. She was stuck looking where the witches wished for her to look.

Bulira stared at him. "I do not know what to do."

"Think Bulira."

"We were not there."

"That is why we need you."

And then there was darkness.

Her eyes flickered open.

Her eyes, her actual eyes. But she was not in the castle anymore. She stood at the temple where she had lived for over a decade. A dilapidated building, where the sands had worn away several walls, leaving only a few rooms safe and undisturbed.

There was a broken window that Bulira used to sit behind as she worked. She used to love how the light hit the shattered stained glass and sent rays of glittering color around the dusty old ruin. The sole remaining hint of the beauty the building must have once had. Before the sand storms shredded it. Before the witches made it their home.

"Why?" piped a small voice.

Her daughter. Nabooru, she could not be more than ten. "They aren't here, they can't make us."

And beside her, Gan already as tall as Bulira, with ears that were too big for him, and pimples that dotted his face. "Can't we take a day off?" He said.

They were both so young, Bulira wanted to grab them both and hold them tight. 'Then let us go, while they're gone. Let us flee and never return.'

But instead she said. "They will be back tomorrow. Go, do your chores. We do not want to make them angry, do we?"

"No," Gan sighed. "I guess not."

But Nabooru harrumphed as only the willful young girl could.

"Fetch the water from the well, Nabooru. Don't be difficult."

"I'm going," the girl groaned as if this was the greatest challenge that any child could ever face. Stomping her feet as she walked. An infuriating sight that Bulira did not even realize she missed. When was the last time she had seen her daughter act like a little girl? A decade? More?

Strange how the things that annoyed you so long ago can be the dearest things you miss.

As they left, Gan tussled the top of Nabooru's hair.

"Stop that!" Nabooru said as she elbowed him in the side. "Stop touching me!"

"Then stop being such a grump," Gan laughed. "If you hurry up and we can finish early."

Why were the witches showing this to her? To Ganondorf? How could showing that they were happier without the Twinrova be an important message?

Her body sighed. "That girl," she said as she turned around and revealed who stood behind her.

'Wait,' Bulira tried to call, but she did speak. 'No. Not again. Please, Koume, Kotake. I beg you, please!'

Could they hear her? How could they when she could not even hear herself.

The knight stood in a corner, where he always stood. His eyes stared out in front of him, not focusing on anything. Drool dripped down his chin, dribbling over his beard that had grown long and unkempt. Were it not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, he'd look a corpse.

He had been handsome when the witches first brought Sir Godwyn to their home. Other than a broken nose that had healed crooked his life of battles did not appear to leave a mark on him. Older than Bulira, with just a touch of grey at his temples of his close-cropped hair that made him look dignified.

But his years with the witches had left him far worse.

"Close your mouth," Bulira's memory said as she closed his gaping mouth. "You'll dry yourself out even quicker like that."

She used to speak to him, though he never could answer. It had been her game, a way to keep her wits in this lonely place. Or perhaps because she knew no other way to deal with him. Part of her duties were to clean him, feed him. Make certain that he survived the days.

And she had tried, she told herself. She wanted to make his life as comfortable as it could be given the circumstances. But over the years of monotony things just slipped past her. She had two children to take care of, and all the other tasks the witches gave her. Something needed to be left behind.

'But it shouldn't have been you. You were still a person.'

As her body wiped the drool from the man's lips his hand twitched. The fingernails that had grown far too long rattled against each other.

On that day Bulira had thought a small gust had moved him.

'I should have done more for you,' Bulira tried to say to Sir Godwyn. But she could not change the dream any more than she could change the past.

Bulira walked past the knight and headed to the kitchens. With the children going to get more water from the well, and the witches gone she had a little more water than usual. She had decided to make a stew, a thick soup filled with desert vegetation. She could even use the stale bread and the remaining camel meat to add some rich flavor.

It would have been such a treat.

Bulira wished to close her eyes, knowing what would come. But she remained locked as she had been on that day.

The deep scream tore through the dilapidated temple. A man's scream. The ladle dropped out of Bulira's hands as she stood up, spilling half the soup as she moved.

"Gan?"

The scream came again. Louder and long, filled with a deep pain.

"Gan!" Bulira ran toward the shouting, calling for her children as she went. "Nabooru! Ganondorf! What is going on?"

But Gan was not the one screaming.

'I don't want to see this.'

But what could she do? She could not look away, or shut her eyes. She could not even blink. So she watched as her body rounded the corner and found Sir Godwyn howling, trembling on the ground. Vomit spread about him. Bulira stopped at the door. She had froze when she saw him. Ever the coward.

The knight screamed and cursed again. His voice a jumble of half-formed words and bellows of rage that went beyond word or thought. The sound punctuated by cracks and gasps, the witches had only allowed him to speak when instructing the young king on the arts of war. It had been years since he had said more than a handful of words at a time and never such a scream.

But the weakness of the voice made the gasping howls seem all the more terrifying.

Then the knight looked at her.

Open wounds lined his face where he had torn himself with the nails that Bulira had forgotten to trim. Clear tears and red dripped down from his eyes. Eyes that no longer stared blankly into the air. They saw her, for perhaps the first time in all the years they had lived in the same temple. And they were filled with such hate.

"You!" The doomed man had cried, pointing an accusing finger at her. A thin chunk of his flesh still stuck beneath the fingernail. "Where are they?"

He was less than half the man he had been when he first arrived. His muscles gone to waste, even with his body hidden under the befouled rags the witches gave him to wear it was clear how weak he must be. Yet the desiccated living corpse sprang to his feet with an agility that Bulira could hardly follow.

Then came the flash as a sword left its scabbard.

"Where are they?" The knight screamed again, and slashed at her.

The tip of the blade went into her shoulder. It would have cut her in half, had she not toppled backwards. Her screams mixing with the knight's own.

"Filth! Monsters!" The knight raised his sword again, but his hand stopped. He convulsed, the blade waving in the air as more foul smelling liquid spewed from between his lips and splattered against Bulira's legs.

"Bulira!"

"Mother!"

And two figures ran at the knight. The boy went high and the girl low. They tackled him, all falling in a tangle of screams and flailing limbs.

"Where are they?" the knight's voice echoed through the room. "Where are they? Where are they?" His sword whipped about, it looked as if it would take Nabooru's head.

That was when Bulira finally shut her eyes as if that would hide her from what was happening.

'Get up! Do something! Help them!'

But all she had done was cower in fear as her children saved her. Even when her eyes opened again, and she could see the three fighting. The sword clattered to the ground as Ganondorf wrenched it from his hands. The impacts of the three hitting each other. She did not help them. She had not done anything worth mentioning at all.

The two wrestled the knight to the ground.

"I am Sir Godwyn," the man screamed as he thrashed about. Even against two of them, and weak as he was, he seemed to have the better of them. Ganondorf was stronger, Nabooru faster, but the knight lashed out with elbow and knee and claw, slipping around them. Somehow, almost breaking free. "First shield of the Queen. I am Sir Godwyn Bellfor. I am… I am Sir Godwyn."

The shouts turned to moaned words and the words turned into a whisper as the energy left his limbs.

"I am Sir Godwyn," he seemed to be begging. Nabooru grabbed onto the back of his neck and forced him to the ground. His head bouncing on the wooden floor, but he did not stop speaking. "I am Sir…" His eyes no longer looked at Ganondorf or Nabooru. At first they glanced toward Bulira, but then they went unfocused. Drifting past her shoulder to an empty spot of the wall behind her. "They can't take that from me. Not again."

"Don't let them." His eyes seemed to find Bulira.

"Don't let…"

The knight went still. His mouth agape, drool, blood, and tears all a mix in the tangle of hair around his face. Were it not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, he'd look a corpse.

"Bulira!" Ganondorf was the first to let the knight go and ran toward her, helping her to her feet. "Did he hurt you?"

Nabooru was only a moment behind him, getting one last punch to the man's gut before she was satisfied. "What happened? We heard screaming."

It was over. It would all be over soon, and Bulira would not have to watch this any more. She would grab onto the children tight and hold them close. They would watch Sir Godwyn's unmoving body all through the knight until the witches returned and made certain their spells were restored.

But Bulira did not pull them close.

She did not sit terrified for hours before she felt strong enough to tell the children how much she loved them, how brave they had been.

Instead she ignored Nabooru completely and put her hands on Ganondorf's shoulders, holding him at a distance.

'This is not what happened. What's going on?'

"You see?" The witches voice came out of Bulira's lips. "The Hylians will always seek to destroy us."

Then the boy Gan became the man, Ganondorf. Dressed in armor, standing tall and proud. Grown to be the man that Bulira always hoped he would become. And they were no longer in that broken temple from so long ago.

They stood in a room of pure light.

"Remember what the Hylians would do to me, if they had a chance." Bulira continued to speak.

"I would never let them hurt you," Gan took her hands. "Not anyone. Not again."

"Then you know what you must do."

Ganondorf looked down, avoiding her eyes. His jaw clenched and brow furrowed. He was in pain, angry and defeated.

'Gan do not listen to them. It is not me. You have to know this. It isn't me!'

But all she could do was watch. Watch and pray that the boy she thought of as a son would do the right thing. And he would. She knew he would.

When Ganondorf looked back up, a shadow covered his eyes before it spilled out from beneath and around him. The great room of light grew dim, or perhaps the shadow grew stronger. It was Gan's shadow, but larger, more monstrous.

Please Ancestors and Goddesses, let him do the right thing.

She awoke, alone, curled up on the floor. Her arm and back aching with every movement, as she tried to right herself. But even stretched out as best she could, her body was still sore. A woman her age was not meant to sleep on the ground.

With the arm that hurt a little less, she pushed herself to her feet. There was no time to worry about the pain. She needed to tell Ganondorf what was happening.

Struggling to her desk, she found parchment and ink.

My dear Gan,

I have a grave warning I must tell you. The Twinrova have invaded your dreams through me. I do not know what you have done, but they are trying to stop you. Stay strong. Do what you know is right. I love you, and I will

Her hand stopped, she squinted down at the letter. The words did not look right.

My dear Gan.

I have a grave warning I must tell you. The King has betrayed us! He has told me of the money he has placed into the aqueduct. But I have uncovered his true plans. It was all lies, from the beginning. He has directed the money to the

She crumpled up the letter and started again. But no matter what she intended to right, only accusations against the royal family came out of her quill.

"Nabs," she whispered.

Nabooru, my love,

The witches have betrayed us. They are trying to corrupt Gan's mind. They have invaded his dreams. Whatever path he is going down now he must try to maintain it. You must help him.

But as soon as she refilled her quill with ink and looked back at her message it too was changed.

Nabooru, my love,

I am so sorry, but I must tell you. Sir Jora has decided to abandon you for another. A woman of the court. He has sold your token to him and

Wailing, Bulira slammed the quill onto the letter, shattering it in her hand. "Let me go! Let me be free of you!"

If there was any answer at all, it was a sound so feint that Bulira was uncertain if she imagined it. But it sounded like two cackling voices laughing from the shadows.