How does it take ten minutes to load a document? Anyway, something I forgot to mention earlier (I think): the Link and Zelda in this are technically OOC. They're different from the ones in existing games, along with most of the characters and relationships. Sorry to all of you who came here for the actual games; I wish you happy crossover hunting!

Chapter 4: Please do not Strike a Chord

Chiron nearly climbed out of his wheelchair when he saw the approaching figure. He wasn't sure why; for a hug, or perhaps to run away? He never was too fearful of his superior—or huggy, either—but the timing was not doing any favors for his nerves.

Mr. D slunk to the porch table like any other summer day. Even his loathing scowl made its cameo.

"What?" he glowered, purple light flashing across his eyes. "Can't a god sit down in peace?"

"You're back," the activities director deadpanned.

He flicked a cluster of lint off his shoulder. "Yeah, well, I didn't just come back to play pinochle and babysit the little brats. I have other things to do—"

Thunder boomed overhead.

"—that I'm not allowed to speak of." Dionysus lowered his voice to a petty grumbling. "Gods, you think he would trust me after I swore on the River Styx, but nooo, I'm too disobedient. Almost like he's not the one that incinerated my mother."

Chiron stroked his beard. "What did you come here for then, my friend?"

He recoiled from the table, like the cloth singed his palms. Something about him being friends with Chiron always made him pause, but he couldn't deny it. Chiron let him keep his Diet Coke in the fridge while he was away, and cat-sat (mount-sat? leopard-sat?) Seymour, so 'colleague' was a little too far gone.

Again, lightning cracked.

Dionysus sighed.

"You've had nine nuisances under your care basically evaporate during a pretold fight, right? Many broken bones in your infirmary?" He waved his hand dismissively. "I'd rally the most uninjured brats for a war council, maybe call the little dears in Cali for extra measures. No on-the-move quests. We don't quite know the details about these monsters, or this prophecy. The Oracle of Delphi has never been clear but—"

Chiron shook his head. "Now now, this isn't Miss Dare's fault. She's losing hair over this right this moment. But did you only come here to tell us that Olympus doesn't know where our demigods are?"

Mr. D huffed, not thrilled about being interrupted. "I tried to tell Father this was unnecessary . . . He's probably trying to distract me for a few minutes."

"I'm guessing your task isn't getting any easier."

"Not one bit." Dionysus scooted out of his chair, hesitating at the sight of the front door. Again, he sighed. "If only there was time for a Diet Coke . . . No, I must return. Goodbye, friend."

The champion was not pleased to make Jason's acquaintance. At least, Jason thought the Rito flying away was the champion. It certainly wasn't the old lady next to her.

He couldn't see much of her as she streaked across the pale winter sky, but she was much shorter than Vetra, and Jason's head barely cleared her shoulders. Her pigment was more muted, too. Vetra was strikingly green whereas the champion's head was dark, black mixed brown. (Dark-eyed Junco.)

Jason half expected her to circle back to watch, but no. Her form faded away within seconds.

Then came the old bird next to her, or the Elder as Vetra called her. She might have been taller in her prime, but a feathery hump across her shoulders curled her frame forward. Her face was a mess of wild russet feathers, her eyes big as pool balls. They were even greener than Percy's, and ogled him like an art exhibit. (I sense the start of a pick-up line.)

The Elder tapped her cane on the wooden deck. "Well, I see red in his nose and ears. You should survive, young man. I'm the Elder of Rito Village, Elder Farrago."

"I'm Jason Grace."

She nodded, clearly satisfied by something. "J, J . . . I thought your name would begin with a J. Just wait 'til Champion Passerelli gets back, I sure did tell her so."

"You did," Vetra agreed.

Jason blinked. "Sorry?"

"Pah, nothing." The Elder ogled him some more, making sure to hobble full circle around him before settling in her old spot. "In that outfit, you could be the Hylian Champion's twin. All you need is to grow your hair longer and get pointier ears." She raised a feathery eyebrow. "I've never seen a Hylian clip their ears. What happened?"

Thankfully, Vetra came to his rescue. "Jason isn't a Hylian, Gran; he's human. Remember? Humans have round ears."

The Elder tipped her head to the side, which was horrifying when it surpassed ninety degrees. "I still hardly believe that humans exist today. Floundering creatures, they are."

"Gran!" Vetra fussed. "You'll have to excuse her, Jason. She's a little bold." Despite her apology, the mother Rito circled an index feather beside her head.

Farrago struck the floor with her staff. "So, Jason, boy. What foolishness led you to the flight range? Or were you trying to freeze yourself solid?"

Jason shuffled an inch backwards. In the "nest" near them a chunky Rito leaned over the railing. In his wing was an open book, but from the binding it was upside down. His feathers puffed when he caught Jason's eyes; he nearly knocked himself unconscious with how hard he slammed his face into the book.

Jason sighed. Great. He probably wasn't their only listener, though.

"Well?" The Elder bobbed her head at him. "Why were you up there?"

"I, uh, don't know?"

Her pupils thinned dangerously. "You don't know."

Suddenly, his collar felt too tight for his neck. "No."

Vetra placed her wing on his shoulder. "Perhaps Jason is forgetful from hypothermia, Gran. That can be a symptom of hypothermia, right Jason?" Her piercing amber eyes implored him: It is a symptom of hypothermia, Jason.

"I wouldn't remember if I did know," Jason answered. She was thrown off for a second, then smiled as well as a beak could smile.

"And remember, Gran; Jason was bruised and cut-up when he arrived. He clearly wasn't healthy before we arrived. And from what he has already told me, Jason doesn't even know what Hylians or Rito are. How is that possible? Even human toddlers in Labbryna—no, Holodrum—know what a Rito is. Jason is . . ." Vetra stared at him in awe. Her earlier heat to persuade her grandmother disappeared, replaced by a feeling Jason couldn't quite name. ". . . Jason is unlike anything Hyrule has ever seen."

"Princess," the girl beside her began, "Father says you should use a towel."

Zelda's green eyes flickered over her best friend, noting the apprehension tight in her shoulders and jaw. Leigh was the daughter of the Captain of the Royal Guard, and shared the angle of his mouth and his pointy chin. Typically, Father didn't allow her company when it came to training.

"For the sake of focus," he insisted.

But Zelda, unlike the incarnation before her, was unusually adept with her abilities. Praying to the Goddess was an act of devotion more so than begging for a miracle.

Yet she insisted this time, and as sad as Leigh always was to see her go, her feet dragged when they arrived at the spring.

Now, Leigh stood beside her in the waters, her skirt floating in a golden cloud around her. Zelda's skirt sank without issue. She wished her dress billowed so elegantly.

Leigh dared to prod her shoulder. "You're soaked, even though all you did was pray. Just take it."

With a sigh, the princess squeezed excess water from her hair. There wasn't much; she cut it a few months ago for these occasions. And the springs weren't her only training. She spent every week swinging a blade, much to the dismay of one too many nobles.

Zelda's cheeks heated with a tiny realization. Was she staring at the statue again?

Her friend's dark eyes lifted to observe Hylia's statue. "You look a lot like her, you know."

She wrapped the towel around her shoulders. "A lot of old texts say that Hylia was blonde, Leigh. I'm brunette."

"Like that makes a difference." Leigh rolled her eyes. "But you know what I mean. Is that why you look at her so much? You must see it too."

Admittedly, Zelda did. Her broad shoulders, the bridge of her nose, her quaint expression she liked to boast to her mirror were all Hylia's. This likely sent many princes and princesses alike into a crisis long ago, but she liked it. It was a trophy of Hyrule's survival through the trials that choked the bloodline.

The Calamity.

When she read about her ancestor, she felt an insurmountable pride. The last of the royal family, she stood before Ganon, inexperienced and afraid. Despite what historians liked to say, that princess did have a lot to lose. She already lost her champions, her knight, her castle, and her father. She journeyed to the sanctum alone because she knew that the entire kingdom would burn, and nothing would quench Ganon's hunger.

"Your father is waiting outside, correct?" Leigh nodded with a small smile. "Let's not keep him waiting any longer. I have research to do when we get home."

Leigh swept a thick wave of her hair—also dark—away from her face. "What kind of research?"

"Oh, nothing different from the usual."

It is different, she thought to herself. The other queens of Hyrule faced many hardships to temper themselves into the greatest rulers this world has seen. What among their diaries and records will give me that courage?

xxx

Princess Zelda underlined the signature with her index finger for the hundredth time, the letter laying delicately on her comforter. She could never sleep when she got letters like these, but this invoked a new breed of worry within her.

A day ago, Chief Jayaka's warriors discovered a human girl—injured, but alive—in the desert ruins. This girl, named Piper, insisted that she had no knowledge of Hyrule or princesses or Gerudo. She only said that she was far from home, a place called "Oklahoma." Despite the hasty writing, there was a clear fondness in Jayaka's words. Zelda's stomach rested a little easier at that. She would send a letter when the postman was awake to summon the girl to the castle, but the short paragraph following popped her square on the nose:

Barba wants refuge for the entire outpost in Gerudo Town. I am sending his messenger back with only a promise to the women and children. Barba is permitted shelter in the ruins, but he will not step foot in my town. I will show no mercy to those who disregard us so derogatively.

The princess had spent the last few hours glancing at the letter, just to clarify what she read.

Chief Jayaka was Queen Machen's niece in heart, less than twice Zelda's age, yet she handled her role with such grace that Zelda couldn't help but feel envy bubble in her chest. She hoped to be half the woman she was in the years to come.

Perhaps the chief's skill was locked in her steely resolve; however, this dedication of hers would start an uproar among Zelda's council. Many would find her upholding her land's most sacred law as a declaration of war, and would pool resources to begin a pointless battle. Barba would not survive with Jayaka's scimitar trained on him, but he would get what he wanted. By that vicious gleam in his eyes, Zelda could see a great horror he desired more than breath. Femicide.

Not caring if she got ink on her blanket, Zelda frantically wrote down a request to the Zora, pleading for an escort for the garrison. On another piece of parchment, she summoned that Piper girl to the castle. Another was reserved for Lurelin Village, a second for the Gorons' to help reconstruct the flooding towns, and lastly a personal letter to Kakariko's Chief, Himeyuri. She hadn't heard from the woman in weeks, and was beginning to worry. Last the chief told her, she was trekking to Rito village in pursuit of some odd rumors.

Princess Zelda's grip tightened on her pen. There was no time to be jealous of anyone, ancestor or friend. When the time came, she would be a queen of her own design, and no snotty noble boy would dare challenge her so lightly.

So far, Percy was enjoying Zora's Domain. It would be much better if the fish people weren't so scared of water, though.

The king already explained to him why flooding was a bad thing. If the dam (heh, dam) gave way, the entire country would flood. When Percy asked what country they were in, King Caudalis looked ready to have a heart attack.

"You're in the Kingdom of Hyrule," Caudalis explained slowly. "Specifically Lanayru Province. Oh, but you are human. You aren't from here."

He said it with such despair, Percy decided to just let him rattle on quietly for a little while.

Percy washed up on the banks of a nearby river at midday the day before, and he was discovered by a fisherman. The king personally agreed to be at his bedside as he recovered from his odd burns and aches, though the son of Poseidon was doing more comforting. King Caudalis was teetering on the edge of a panic attack at every moment.

The Zora that Percy was surrounded by were a peculiar species. Their torsos and limbs were humanoid, but everything else about them was aquatic. So far as he was aware, part of the domain was underwater, and Percy was in the infirmary on an upper level reserved for terrarian visitors. Their eyes were slitted but oddly human, along with their jawlines and clavicles. But their gills, scales, and fins were far from it.

At least they were nice. They seemed wary of him at first, but as it turns out, cold blooded company make for warm hosts. Caudalis's wife liked to check in on them every hour and eat meals with the two. Percy found it funny the way she balanced her food on her stomach, swollen with the domain's heir. According to her, Zora were flexible when it came to pregnancy. Some laid eggs, others had live births. Queen Scylio was obviously the latter.

Some of the Zora were unique when it came to their brethren, having more specific species of fish that Percy could associate them with. By King Caudalis's large tail fin (which was located on the back of his head, for some reason), he was modeled from a thresher shark. (The caudal fin is the tail of a fish, and the thresher shark has the biggest of any fish.) Scylio had a flat, tawny head with a long tail. A catshark, he realized. (Some cat sharks give live birth. I wanted to make her a sailfish but they lay eggs :/)

Every Zora he encountered was draped in fine jewelry, sapphires and silver dripping over shoulders and hips. The king and queen were even more decorated, with sashes and rope. At both of their sides were delicate silver blades, but Percy didn't doubt that they could mutilate just as easily as Riptide.

Scylio came in with a plate of freshly caught fish. Percy's was finely cooked and seasoned bass, but the king and queen liked theirs raw. He felt a tiny piece of him die every time their sharp teeth sank into another fish.

The queen frowned at her food, but only after biting cleanly through the skull. "Oh, do I miss squid."

Caudalis rubbed her back. "Don't worry, my love. When the weather eases, let's take a trip to the coast, alright?"

Percy's bass suddenly tasted muddy. Caudalis said that a lot; "when it stops raining," or, "when the water level lowers." Scylio's pitiful face never failed to sadden him.

Before Percy could get more vague explanations for everything (and zero information on Annabeth), another Zora burst into the room.

"Your Majesty!" he addressed, his chest heaving. In his claws was a small envelope, sealed with a deep red crest. (Wax seal colors are very important! I almost said blue, but blue is associated with passion, so no.)

The king glided across the room in a second, trading the letter for his unfinished plate. He offered Percy and his wife a fleeting look, then disappeared into the corridor beyond.

Queen Scylio leaned very close to him. "That was the Royal Family's seal! That must be directly from the princess."

Percy blinked. "Aren't you the royal family?"

"Of the Zora, yes," she explained softly. "But the Zora aren't the only ones with kings and queens. We are on the Hyrulean continent, as you know, and Hyrule Kingdom has its own royal family. Or, at least . . . The princess is the only remaining member of the bloodline."

"And you report to her?" he asked.

"Oh, not exactly. We are two very mutual peoples, us Zora and Hylians. Especially with everything going on right now, with the flooding and the monsters . . ."

Without thinking, Percy started reaching for his sword. Then he thought better of it and let his hand fall limp beside him. "Monsters?"

Caudalis pattered back into the room, holding a twice creased paper. "Percy," he addressed, "I might just know what to do with you, now."

Percy swallowed nervously.

Frank had followed the wolf into the icy murk for longer than he knew possible. He dared not look down; if he did, he was sure his fingers were solid and blue. He had long since stopped feeling them.

Lupa would be disappointed, he thought, that I still need wolves for survival.

A year ago, the wolf goddess would have threatened to rip his throat out for lagging behind, but his guide was far more considerate. When Frank tripped and scrambled in the snow, it circled back and waited for him.

He knew by the look and nature of the wolf that it was far more than it let on. Its pelt shone like gold, the glow piercing through the piling sleet. The creature had only one eye, red as blood, with a glare of its own.

The golden wolf looked over its shoulder and barked at him, which Frank took as his first warning to move faster. As he waded through the snow, skin prickling and muscles screaming, he soon realized he was climbing to the crest of the hill. In the distance, a thick line of snowfall stretched downwards. Only it wasn't snow, he realized: smoke.

He would have sobbed if his throat wasn't so dry, but the wolf gave him little time for relief, anyway. It brushed past him, carefully navigating the gentler slope ahead.

Frank wished he could transform. With the cold and his wounds, he was afraid that he would spend too much energy and collapse. At least the path to the smoke would be easier than the rest of the mountain.

His relief was his first mistake.

Halfway down the path, a line slithered under the snow. The golden wolf snarled at the sight of it, but Frank didn't understand what was happening until it was too late.

A pink wall of scales slid before him, a curved bone ripping through his arm as the massive lizard erupted from the snow. Frank was unfortunately familiar with the monster; he'd had a run in with a different one the night before, back on Long Island. Unlike the green and yellow one, however, this one was white.

Frank had little time to study it, however, as it quickly raised its bloody horn, spitting ice left and right. He rolled across the snow, narrowly avoiding a spiky ice chunk. He'd been wrong in thinking that the snow would numb his new wound; instead, the lesion prickled violently, as though punctured by a thousand needles. Again, he couldn't look. All that mattered was that his arm was still there.

He ripped his bow from his shoulders with his uninjured (or, less injured) arm, determined to beat the lizard and escape. Well, maybe not escape—he was in no condition to run, nor did he know where to go. Frank could hardly see the column of smoke anymore. No, not just the column of smoke. He could barely see the lizard, too, its pink eyes and stomach his only map.

Just as he whipped his hand back to strike, gold streaked above him. The wolf, considerate as ever, tore through the lizard's stomach, rolling through the snow bank. The lizard yawped as the wolf latched onto its throat.

Just as soon as the fight began, it ended. Frank's vision went black; it could have been mere seconds or long hours, and he would never know. He woke curled around his bow, his face pressed against the bloodied snow. (Ew, that rhymed.) Inches from his face was the wolf, dark gore dripping from its muzzle.

It whimpered, which Frank supposed was its own way of asking if he was alright. Frank squinted against the blurry ring framing his vision, though he immediately wished he hadn't.

Blood soaked his sleeve so severely that he couldn't discern cloth from flesh. It poured in the snow, steam rising where hot blood met frigid air.

Frank blanched, his vision again going dark. When next he opened his eyes, he felt the drag of his back on ice, his collar pinching his neck as the wolf dragged him along, the sky darker than he had ever seen above him. He fluttered his eyes at the prickle of snowfall, not surprised when he found that he'd blacked out a third time.

The wolf was gone, and so was half the sky, sharing his vision with a brown blob he thought might be a roof. But as it moved, he realized it wasn't a roof at all; no, it was a very, very large bird, lowering its beak to his face. It muttered something in a rather unbirdlike way, and scrutinized him similarly.

I'm dreaming, Frank thought. Then he closed his eyes for the last time.

Annabeth marched in her new boots along the cobblestone road, eager as the castle town wall sloped onwards. No cart nor traveler passed to witness her untamed delight as she wondered aloud about the shape of the stones or the distant flag holds.

She was a little bummed that she wasn't given a horse, but the stablehands had been more than generous to her. The stablemaster that sponsored her, Cawley, was true to his word in handing her off to his niece until dark.

The girl—Oletta, though she preferred Letti—had done everything in her power to scrub Annabeth squeaky clean, despite nearly giving her a cold in the process. After a clothed dip in the river and several buckets of water, she had finally offered Annabeth their washtub, which was just as cold and kept private by a rickety wooden shed. Her soap was much better, being as it was a waxed wad of honey and wildflower oil that almost made her forget the feel and smell of mud clots. She had emerged from the shack in the sleep clothes lent to her, much to the surprise of her new friend.

Letti had circled around her, hand hovering over Annabeth's hair and shoulders. "You're gorgeous!"

"Thank you," Annabeth replied, feeling her ears burn.

There was little rest to the day, so Letti led her inside the stable for bed. Cawley was already asleep at that point, his gasping counterpart Eustace manning the front desk. He choked when Annabeth passed for the second time that day, more from shock than fear now. Her previous shyness was replaced with pride; she was not a mud monster, but a beautiful teenage girl.

Come the next morning, Letti billowed about her in her sleeping gown, bringing her a washing basin and another change of clothes for the day. As soon as she finished changing, Letti again bombarded her outside of the little privacy shed, fixing the many belts and straps on her new get up and instructing her on how to order it correctly. Much to her dismay, Annabeth had insisted on donning her old camp shirt as a tunic, despite the garish neon orange. It was hard to notice though; her new leather jerkin covered most of it.

Again, Letti circled her, adjusting Annabeth's short cloak one last time. She gave Annabeth a reassuring smile. "These were my sister's travel clothes, but she's almost in her third trimester now, so she hasn't fit these in a long time."

"Is she not at the stable?"

"No, she moved down river to her man's stable when she found out. She—Oh, I almost forgot!" Letti dug in the old clothes bag, bringing out a small pouch and a separate strip of patterned fabric. She offered the fabric first. "I thought you might want this to pull your hair back with."

Annabeth turned it over in her hands, looking at the cutesy wood birds and flowers. Pleased, she tied it over her forehead, like a headband, then pulled to retrieve two braids near her ears. (I went with Leah Jeffries Annabeth! She's just so pretty!)

Next, Letti carefully slipped the drawstring pouch into Annabeth's outstretched hands. "This is a wallet; I figured you didn't have one. Don't tell my uncle, but. . . ." She loosened the string, drawing out a gleaming purple gemstone. "I wanted to give you a little parting gift, just in case. This should be enough to get you a meal and a warm bed at an inn somewhere in Castle Town."

"I can't accept this; you've already done so much!" Annabeth refuted, trying to push it back to her.

As it turned out, Oletta could push back much harder than her. "We usually take this as a handling fee for knight's horses, so no worry there! You didn't bring a ride of your own, so just take it!"

Annabeth reluctantly let her tie it to her belt, looping it so that it would be more difficult for a pickpocket to thieve her. Letti brought her back inside, gave her a travel bag with her things and some bread and apples, and waved her goodbyes as Annabeth crossed the bridge across the river. Eustace and Cawley were there as well; the former puffing, the latter shouting a thousand hyper farewells after her.

The demigoddess slipped through the wooden gates (she was a little disappointed that they weren't metal, but oh well) alongside a small flower cart, surprised that the guards didn't stop her—wasn't security supposed to be tight around a castle town? They did spare her a second glance, at least, but they were not so generous with words. She loped inside with ease.

Castle Town was gorgeous and teeming with busy residents. Merchants boasted flowers, gold, fortune, and fabrics that Annabeth felt dizzy taking in all at once. Live stock chuffed in the stables at the entrance, and children chased each other as their parents and older siblings washed clothes in the square's fountain.

Annabeth immediately knew that the fountain was her favorite part of town. Bird's wings stretched over the crystal water, the head replaced by three triangles piled into one. What Annabeth found most interesting was that some parts of the fountain were gold rather than stone, and randomly, too. It occurred to her that those areas were probably broken off, then replaced with gold over time. She'd have to keep the concept in mind if she ever rebuilt Olympus again.

The beautiful sight fell away within seconds. Cold prickled across Annabeth's nose, followed by her shoulders and head. The happy children collectively yelped and sprinted to the many shops' overhangs as an unforgiving downpour crashed upon the cobblestone streets, bringing a cold draft with it. As she hurried to the stables, Annabeth realized that Castle Town wasn't the vision of prosperity she first witnessed; it was an anxious place, with families squandering for sunlight, no matter how brief. Just like Camp Half-Blood when she left it.

"The weather's been like this for a few weeks now."

A girl stood in the stall behind her, untacking her horse. She was about Annabeth's age, with sky blue eyes and pointed ears, just like everyone else Annabeth had encountered so far. Hair redder than Rachel's curtained her face, which was fair, but just as resolute as her own. Unlike her new friends at the stable, her clothes were more proper; leisurely, yes, but something about the skirt told Annabeth that there were plenty of purple gemstones in her pocket.

Annabeth straightened herself. "You get a lot of travelers here?"

The girl smiled. "I'd say so. Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking? You seem like a Labrynna girl to me."

"America."

"I don't think I've ever heard of America! Is it near Holodrum? Or Hytopia? You're more than pretty enough to be from Hytopia."

Annabeth thought to herself while the girl prattled on about countries and seas. It might've been just a gut feeling, but she felt a strong pull towards that castle; in her seventeen years, she'd grown to trust her gut as much as her head. This girl looked well off, and with some hope, luck, and skillful fibbing, a demigod could get anywhere. "It's really far West. Anyway, that castle of yours is beautiful. What's it called?"

"It's Hyrule Castle, of course." Her brow furrowed. "You don't know our castle?"

Thanks to Cawley, she already knew, but Annabeth still did her best to look shocked. "Oh, Hyrule! I made it here after all!"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I set sail a week ago for Hyrule, but that storm separated my crew! If it hadn't been for that stable, I would be starving by now!"

She paused in tending her horse. "Goddesses, my condolences, but I'm sure they're alright. Storm or not, our seas are gentle." She patted Annabeth on her shoulder. "Tell me, why were you sailing here?"

"We had a message for the castle, but we weren't able to send a letter in advance. I doubt that I could get in on my own, and especially without my papers—would they even be valid here? I'm afraid I know nothing about Hyrule; I don't even know who lives in the castle."

She wasn't being completely dishonest; if she did get in the castle, she'd probably blab about the prophecy to whoever was in charge. Annabeth watched carefully as the girl drank in her false panic. She wasn't sure if the girl believed her completely, but she could see sympathy in her eyes.

"I can hardly believe your countrymen, giving you such an impossible task with little clue as to where you were going," she pitied, taking Annabeth's hand into hers. "We have a crowned princess, dear, and her council that rule our kingdom. Whatever message you have, I would be glad to deliver it for you."

Hmm, not quite, she thought. "It's much too important, I'm afraid. My countrymen had me swear secrecy on it."

She seemed to mull it over. "I've been summoned to care for the royal stables for today, but I am willing to compromise. I have a question for you, and if you answer honestly and to my liking, I will trust you."

Annabeth nodded.

"What stable did you get those clothes at?" she asked.

Great question, Annabeth thought.

Cawley had boasted about it yesterday, but that was a goodnight's sleep ago—so, a thousand years to her. River Stable? Too boring for him. Marsh stable? Eh, not quite. Wetland—?

Annabeth almost danced. "Wetland Stable. Letti said that these were her sister's clothes, but she can't fit them anymore."

"Because she's pregnant," the girl added, nodding her satisfaction. "Honestly, I thought you were trustworthy the moment you spoke to me, but I wanted to be sure before letting you into the castle. I'm Malon. My family owns a ranch a half hour away from here."

She shook her hand. "Annabeth Chase."

"The girl mustn't know about her mother's fate," her guard murmured. "It would destroy her."

"You're too soft with her, Tenji-san! How will she be strong enough to lead us if she doesn't know?" Komori spat.

"She's too young to lead and she's too young to know! She doesn't even have her tattoos yet! She's not ready to be strong for us!"

Impa slid under her bed, dragging the blankets with her. If there was one thing she wasn't strong enough for, it was being woken up all hours of the night by her quarreling caretakers. She'd seen sandbox disputes settled easier.

She scratched her small, unmarked forehead. She had another decade before she was ready for the common rituals: tattoos, ear piercings, her first solo expedition. . . .

Oh, the solo expedition.

Impa did her best to suffocate herself in her blankets before her silent tears became full sobs. Her charges had begun their endless spat after the postman stumbled to their door, bringing a letter with the royal stamp. They barred her from reading it, but she still saw the address: Chief Himeyuri.

What had been a normal early morning all those weeks ago had quickly curdled among the village. Her brave mother, pack on her back and hat on her head, had urged Impa to return to bed, both of them standing at the village gate. It was no different than her usual endeavors; she would leave in the early morning, and Impa would beg to accompany her, only for Komori to drag her back inside. She would surely return in a few days' time, bringing a small trinket for her and talk for the elders.

After the first week, Tenji-san poured ice on her sleeping head.

"Grab your knives and meet me at the training ground," he commanded her. Then he loped outside.

The adults' training ground was settled between Kakariko's smooth spires, and peppered with dummies and weapon racks and tents. Impa's "training ground" was a small patch of land between the general store and the food patio; in other words, meager. She had no weapon racks or tents, but she had a tiny knife, or kunai, and a lopsided wooden dummy she drew a smiley-face on.

Ever since she could walk, people brought her there—from her mother to off-duty tribesmen. When she was a toddler, they mostly demonstrated moves while she used her knife to dig in the dirt (hey, that's what they were originally for anyway.) One woman tried to teach her archery, but the bowstring was too tight for Impa to budge, so she cried until Tenji distracted her with fishing.

Impa's conviction (or the closest thing to conviction a six-year-old could have) had grown with her in the past three years. She listened now, and was more careful after one lazy training session left her with a scar on her tiny palm. The other children in the village began experimenting with warriorship at the same time she did, and the prospective Sheikah thinned as their interest wavered. She still had quite a few little comrades to spar with, but many other children were content with farming and cucco raising. Well, to each their own.

It was two weeks after her mother's departure when Komori gathered everyone by the goddess statue. She said that given her absence, there would need to be some changes until she returned—so that she could come home to a happy, healthy village. Impa was a questioning child, though she didn't question then. Standing in the midst of her tribe, her usually garrulous manner choked with embarrassment. For once, she stood still; she didn't even kick up grass the way she liked to.

Impa didn't like having so many eyes on her—red eyes, familiar eyes, but too many all the same. Everyone in the village knew it was rude to ignore a meeting address, no matter how long winded, but Komori monologued into the summer rain as grief weighed upon little Impa.

When she placed the headdress upon her, Impa felt her heart plummet into her stomach.

Komori insisted that the arrangement was only temporary—that their lovely Chief Himeyuri would be marching through the gate any day now, her original headdress with her, and that they would dine and dance until they collapsed contentedly. Impa would be chief until then, but she would be practicing her future role rather than exercising it.

Impa would swear later to her friends that she shrank under the weight of her title; in the moment, she certainly felt like it. Six or not, she knew what death was, and what it entailed. No one had said Himeyuri was gone from the world, but there was an unsaid agreement among them: Himeyuri was dead, and Impa needed to assume her birthright before they fell apart.

She also knew that the others were crying. The steady drizzle masked it, but Impa could never mistake that splotchy skin and those tight eyes. She wanted to cry herself; to throw her headdress at Komori, to shriek at the villagers until they let her be, and to rip open her candy stash and suffer a hundred cavities. More than anything else, she wanted what the villagers wanted: her mother home and well, combing her fingers through Impa's hair as the girl dozed after a long night of celebration and storytelling. Impa would even have her home angry with her, if it meant she was alive.

For her first week as chief, Impa did find time for these things. She kicked her hat across her room, though it did more damage to her foot than the hat itself. She'd afflicted the village cuccos with screams until she was hoarse, then spared some mishearted croaks for Komori later on. Her candy stash vacillated between wealth and scant by the day. Komori still hadn't found it, but she had found plenty of odd devices to scrub Impa's teeth with. She was yet to have a single cavity, but she had plenty of time.

Impa thought back to that green guy from yesterday—Mink, or maybe Link? He had said monsters were on Sahasra Slope, terrorizing passersby. That was the cause of the whole spat downstairs. Komori wanted Impa to march with the soldiers, and Tenji was firmly opposed. Impa didn't like either grown up's ideas; her heart spiked at the notion of battle, but she didn't want to leave the matter be. If—WHEN her mother returned, she would deal with it. She always had. She always did.

And her mother also deals with letters from the castle.

Impa returned to her bed as the thundering voices faded into the similarly thundering night. Just as she predicted, the front door hissed as Komori plodded out of the house, likely going to alert the soldiers to ready their weapons for battle.

Impa turned onto her side as her lip quaked, it stilling as she internally reassured herself. She would not fight, no matter what.

Her bedroom door slid open, and Tenji approached her not-so-sleeping form. His wrinkled hands gentled over her hair, and she nearly broke her resolve.

"I'm so sorry, Kaeru-chan," he whispered, his voice faltering with unshed tears. Impa couldn't remember a time when he didn't call her Kaeru—or "frog." She couldn't even remember the story behind it; supposedly, she used to catch little frogs and give them to every adult around the village, including travelers. She even had a jar of tadpoles at one point and had cried hot tears when it was time to pour them back into the pond.

Impa squeezed her eyes shut as Tenji sat down behind her and rolled over into her stuffed animals as he left. She could never hear his footsteps, but his sniffles gave him away. When she no longer heard his tearful battle, Impa slunk out of bed and downstairs.

In the midst of their argument, they forgot to stash the letter—or even read it, as it would seem. Impa easily thieved it off a shelf and crawled to her room. So as to not reveal her snooping, Impa carefully peeled the seal back and drew the letter from the envelope. She scurried under her bed the second time that night to read the elegant script:

Dear Chief Himeyuri of the Sheikah Tribe,

I am so sorry to interrupt your peace between expeditions—assuming you have returned from Rito Village. If this instead is a hand to the chief reading this, I would like to assure you that I have arranged to send another address to Tabantha.

I wanted to ensure that Kakariko Village is well in this swelling storm. I have only heard reports from travelers and knights for these past weeks, and while I am aware that rain is hardly a hindrance to the Sheikah Tribe, I have grown worried as fewer and fewer of your tribe find their way to me. If it is of no cost to you, I would like to hear first hand how you are. I will have any messenger you can offer, including none at all if you are so inclined, but I must implore you to consider. I would be grateful for any guidance at this time as well, but only upon your own charity.

I am prepared to offer anything to your tribe, Chief Himeyuri, even if you decline my request. Please answer as soon as possible.

Sincerely,

Crowned Princess Zelda Aurelaum Hyrule

Impa flew across her room at that, tying cloth and straps about herself in a frenzy. She knew when Komori won that argument that she would be leaving the village for a very long time, and as grieved as she was, she felt stronger with every layer she draped over her shoulders. She finished tying her obi and began conflicting over whether she should lug her frustrating new hat with her when Tenji opened the door again.

They stared at each other, Impa with fear and Tenji with shock. After a few seconds, Tenji hefted the small travel bag he brought with him up the stairs.

Impa tried to hide the letter behind her back. "W-why . . . ?"

Tenji kneeled before her, securing the bag on her back as he spoke. "Komori is arranging for you to fight at dawn, but you won't have to if you leave within the hour. I can't let her do this, can't let you do this, Kaeru-chan." He paused, holding her shoulders. "But you will be betraying your people if you leave. If you can find your mother, however, I think you have a chance at forgiveness."

Impa hardly thought it was betrayal, but six-year-olds never do think of betrayal the right way. "What about the monsters?"

"Don't worry; we can easily hold them off. Anyway, I've packed you plenty of food and bladders for a week, and I have a donkey waiting downstairs—remember what I told you about spooking him. I also packed your kunai, and your favorite blanket, and," he smiled mischievously, "your candy storage."

"You found it?"

"Don't hide things under the chief's pillow again." Tenji placed her headdress on her brow. "Though, I guess it has been yours for the past few weeks, anyway."

Impa burst into tears. Tenji wiped them away as she sobbed quietly and held her hands so that she couldn't rub her eyes.

"Y-You'll get in trouble," she hiccupped, "and—hic!—Komori-san will, w-will—."

"Kaeru-chan, Kaeru-chan, don't cry," he soothed, though he looked ready to cry himself. "I'm so sorry I can't come with you, but I will be safe. My old friend from Zora's Domain wrote to me yesterday, so I'm arranged to leave as soon as those monsters are cleared. They have to let me go help the Zora."

She wasn't so sure about that, but she drank in every word as he instructed her on what to do and where to go. She would need to take the back entrance to Dueling Peaks to avoid the monsters and follow the road along the river until she saw Hyrule Castle. Instead of following the address, however, she would travel to the left of Hyrule Castle, where she would the Breach of Demise and then Tabantha. He drew a line across a waterproof map, tied it around her belt, and escorted her to her ride.

Tenji helped her clamber onto her new steed. "You'll need to figure out mounting Mimi very soon, or your journey might not be so easy."

Impa squeezed her arms around his neck and held on tight to the reins as Mimi clopped away. She turned at the village gate, squinting through the downpour. Tenji had climbed to her front porch and was looking back too. Impa waved, but he couldn't wave back; he needed to cover their tracks, and anyone watching could crumble their plans. She wished she still had the letter, but Tenji needed that most.

Impa spurred Mimi out of Kakariko Village.

End of Chapter 4

VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT (IT'S A GOOD ANNOUNCEMENT)

I am so going to regret staying up this late, but I am SO excited that I don't mind anyway.

Alright, so I have worked on my artistry ever since I started writing fanfic—and by artistry, I mean pencil-to-paper and stylus-to-screen type artistry. I'm rather confident in my artistic abilities today, and I have the confidence to FINALLY put them to good use.

So, without further ado, my big announcement:

I AM MAKING WHERE HEROES UNITE INTO A WEBCOMIC!

I have wanted to do this ever since I came up with it, and now I can! Gosh, I'm just so excited! I have been working on a comic script for the very first time for the past two weeks, and it is chugging along slowly, but it is definitely getting written and finished! I can't say for sure when I upload the first chapter or what the update schedule will be like, but this IS HAPPENING!

I'll post more announcements in the near future, and I advise anyone who looks forward to it to search up my AO3 account by the same name for sneak-peaks.

Anyway, with that I'm off! I hope you have happy holidays (or lack thereof) and happy lives until further notice! And of course, THANK YOU FOR READING!