BLANKET TRIGGER WARNINGS: There isn't space in the world (or in FFnet's description box) to illustrate the number of warnings this story should have. Blame them if I miss some. The one on Ao3 is more accurate and full. This story WILL have elements and scenes of NonCon (ie, assault) and even Monster x Human sexuality. It will (probably) have scenes of torture. It will have morally gray and even evil people and monsters. It is NOT a kid story, or intended for people under the age of consent in their country, or who do not wish to see the darker side of humanity. Zelda, yes, but with the 'dark grittiness' turned up not to 11, but 35.
You can tell me this story is 'grimdark' all you want, but one must see the darkness, to understand it, to fully comprehend the light. And there's plenty of that (and smuttiness), too. And if you enjoy, drop a review- and see the part below. ;)
As a reminder, you can find MORE of this on my SubStar (dot adult slash KajaWilder), it's posted up past chapter 50 there... And if you guys haven't seen an update in at least a week, please let me know! I have a busy life, and I get distracted and forget things. This story (and PTaL) are supposed to be updated WEEKLY from now until they're both caught up with each other (like I was doing with FwB until this weekend).
And if you're just interested in discussing things with other readers, of course, you can go to my DISCORD here: h- t_ t_ p-s -: -/ -/ -discord . g-g / N9yDA8t6Cw (taking out hyphens, underscores, and spaces of course).
Chap. 0:
Heroine of the Timeless
There was nothing. Emptiness. A recollection of nothing except a vague pain, fleeting and long-gone. Black. Empty. Nothing.
That is all there was, for what felt like an eternity of silence, as a once eager, excitable mind fought through the dolor of medications not actively used on the planet for more than ten thousand years. Medications intended to do more than just stupefy and tranquilize, but to heal even the most grievous of injuries. This being knew nothing of that, though. It was all the being could do to register that the rhythmic, steady, but soft whuff, whuff was a heartbeat.
Eventually, though, the dosage of medication wore away, and after what felt like another century or more of timeless nothing aside from that same, steady, lifegiving beat, the being registered it was their heartbeat.
A heartbeat that sounded strange, unusual, in the dark nothing and surrounding silence. Strong... but hadn't it been fluttering, trying desperately to keep beating?
No. That couldn't be right.
A soft hiss, whoosh, quieter and much slower than the rhythmic drum of life eventually made itself known through the drug-addled mind, too. Breathing. Their breathing.
They were alive.
... But who were they?
The being found themselves confused by that question, as their mind finally began to truly wake up for the first time in over a hundred years. Eyes that had been shut in what amounted to total physical death blinked open, and saw... nothing. The exact same blackness. The same silence.
Well.
That was all the being could think as the eyes stared sightlessly into the void, which could have been either tiny or vast. They had no way to tell. There was a vague sense of... body. Extremities, maybe, but everything was made there to the being's mind more through tingly numbness than any other sensation. Maybe. There could have been cool air... and moisture. No... liquid, their mind supplied. They were suspended in liquid. Thick, viscous.
And it was dropping around them, or maybe they were rising out from it. Who could say?
This being didn't even know their name. If they had one.
How could they? Just being aware enough to have a single word going through their mind, describing the state between solid and gas was momentous! How could the brain, overtaxed to do that, realize who they were, if there was a name at all? Or what a name was, for that matter?
It was just too much.
After another long eternity, the last bits of fluid seemed to drain away from the body, and the tingling sensation mostly passed. It faded by the moment now, and as the body's eyes realized they were dry, they blinked in autonomous function. Another blink, another, and more time gone. Minutes, maybe. Hours? Days? It was hard to conceptualize, still, but the mind was clearing piecemeal. Thoughts and ideas ran rampant, but with nothing to connect them. No strands of data, no input, like a machine trying to run with half its internal components missing, and the wrong kind of fuel entirely.
Machines don't run on food and water, the brain told itself, and the being realized it was hungry, and thirsty.
It was alive.
The being bolted upright, feeling strange tingles through its torso, two upper limbs, and two lower, but mostly in its head, which pounded and throbbed anew with the sudden change in blood pressure. Even its heart skipped a beat!
As the being felt around, there were traces of moisture still in tiny little cracks around the edge of something semi-soft that they had been laying on, and now sat on with the two lower limbs slightly splayed for balance. Its body, it seemed, knew how to move on instinct, even if the mind was hazy. There was a raised ridge, which varied from the height of her shortest finger to its entire hand from the wrist down, with the shortest spot to the being's left.
It turned carefully, wary of the silent void now, and lowered (downward?) its legs through the gap.
Yes... there was the same soft material that made up the ridge around the (bed?) it had been laying on down there. As their feet (were they feet?) hit the stone(?) too, the being suddenly became aware of light, too.
Not a lot, but soft, orange spots began to appear rapidly, all around them. Faint at first, but glowing brighter all the time, until they resembled... fire. Fire, yes, that was the word. A torch, each of them, but not made of fire. Just the same color and... luminosity? What a weird, strange, complicated word! But it rolled through the being's mind like an after-thought, as the light spread and grew to reveal no endless, black and silent void...
But a room.
A room with a clear doorway, though it was closed, a plinth or pulpit-like pedestal near it, and... the strangest bed the being could ever remember seeing.
Which wasn't a lot, as the being remembered nothing at all. It was still odd, though, as they cast their eyes (what a fascinating, thing, too, to be able to see!) about the room. Wider on the base, it tapered to a space large enough to hold a being much larger than them, but clearly designed for a form like them. Two upper limbs, two lower, and the head. Yes... they had that. Their own body had made an impression over time, in the softer surface of the interior, but it was molded beyond that, too.
As they stared, the dregs of liquid, which glowed now a strange blue in the light coming from the circles on the walls, disappeared into the last little cracks, and the being stood. They swayed unevenly at first, and a hand thrown out to catch themselves on the bed's edge helped steady them as they stepped down. There was weight on their... chest, yes, that was the word. Breasts, they realized, and a glance down told them that the body was indeed female. I'm female, a woman. A young one, but an adult. Yes, that feels right.
They were covered in something soft and light, a wrap of some flexible, light gray material around their chest, helping to hold the swinging globes in place, and a similar bit of material that moved around their- no, her, the being corrected herself, waist and between her legs.
Gingerly, she stepped down and turned to see that above the bed, too, was another device. This one hung from the ceiling, and while the general design was similar to the bed's, it was far more complex. Narrow, thin spikes protruded from it at odd angles on little armatures, crystal spheres capped other rods, and the whole thing, she realized, hummed with some hidden, misplaced energy.
What is this?
She knew, somehow, that the device and bed combined had been keeping her alive, but had no idea how that worked. The room was otherwise faintly decorated with swirls and lines around the walls, and the glowing orange circles had lines between them in strange shapes, too. They almost looked like... stars. Constellations, which are arrangements of stars, her brain supplied, somehow. It sounded right, though. Some of them even had recognizeable shapes. A bow there, a bird there, though obviously stylized and simple. As she looked around more, she saw the plinth had a device sitting in a recessed hole on the slanted top, and the door was composed not of a solid piece, but what looked like stone columns the same uniform gray as the floor, each inscribed with some sort of runic writing and fitted so closely together that the gaps were almost impossible to discern.
She looked around for a few minutes more, hoping for something she could identify as edible, or drinkable, but found nothing except the plinth itself and the object on it.
Which, as she tapped it, withdrew into the column about the width of her finger. She jumped back at the sudden, fast movement, but the device continued moving, almost blindingly fast. First it spun so the side which had been down now faced up, and then rotated to the left- ninety degrees, a quarter-turn- her mind told her. Then something clicked as a latch released. The object's upper half lifted up and out so that it was nearly vertical instead of slanted down, facing her.
There was a soft beep-boop.
And nothing.
Only her own suddenly panicked heartbeat, and rapid breathing.
Slowly, she reached out to take the oblong, thick but flat device. The front half lit up in her hands, and more words she did not recognize in letters she could not read flashed through the screen from the bottom to the top at break-neck speed.
Her mind whirred, too.
She knew this device. It was familiar in her hands, but she could not remember ever holding it. It was a fixture at her side, for a long time, part of her important... work? Duty? No... related to it, perhaps, but not her duty itself. A tool? Yes, that seemed right. Something she found frustrating, but useful.
Hm.
The scrolling letters, soft blue and square, blocky lines, stopped and then vanished.
Then symbols she did recognize, though she couldn't say how, appeared on the top left of the screen. A row of them, forming a... a word. Yes, a word. A sentence... a statement.
Loading...
More followed.
Detecting Hero Bloodline.
Hero Bloodline not found, "Link" not present.
Scanning.
Ganon Bloodline detected. Designation: Calamity detected.
Emergency protocols initiated.
Scanning.
Guardian Protocol corrupted. Calamity presence found in Guardian Mainframe.
Scripting Malware cleansing program... Scripting, please wait...
Complete.
Unable to access distribution node.
Location scan...
Complete. Shrine of Resurrection acknowledged.
Shrine of Resurrection occupied... scanning...
Occupant: Princess Zelda Amaryll Hyrule VII.
Bloodline: Hylian pureblood. Notation: Royal Family by direct line.
Scanning...
Holder is Princess Zelda of Hyrule. Marking...
Pain, suddenly, as a searing white light emanated from a little circle she hadn't even seen on one end of the little slab. It burned, searing into her flesh in an instant. Then it was gone, only a lingering discomfort and itch remaining on her forehead from where the light had struck.
Apologies, Princess, the device printed next, it was necessary.
"I," she spoke, and found it strangest of all that she could, and still knew how, "I- what- what did you do? That hurt!"
Apologies, Princess, it repeated, it was necessary. Your original brand, the one on your right hand was damaged. It should repair your connection to your bloodline's power.
Scanning...
"Wait... what? What power? Who am I? What bloodline?"
With more patience than she should have expected, the device printed more words, a longer string than it ever had before at once, though many were repeated. You are Princess Zelda Amaryll Hyrule, the seventh of that name. You are a pure-blooded Hylian, a direct line descendant of the royal family of that kingdom, the second such. The power you had lost access to was the fabled power of the Goddess, Hylia, said to reside in your family since time immemorial.
Searching records...
Records incomplete.
Data interpolation...
Records indicate a high likelihood that you were unable to access the divine power due to damage sustained while a youth. There is a high probability that this damage was sustained at the will of the Calamity. The marking this device gave you on your forehead should allow access to that power once more.
"But... but why? I don't... I don't remember anything!"
Her voice was high, almost shrill she thought, and plaintive, but she couldn't care less if it sounded like she was whining. From the looks of things, this... this rock, this machine, expected her to somehow stop something that was named Calamity! She was... nothing! How could it expect that of her?
Memory loss is to be expected. You suffered a thirty percent loss of the hippocampus on your morbidity. Thankfully, the Shrine of Resurrection has completed the regeneration process. This device estimates that there is a seventy-eight percent loss of memory, but no loss of functionality. You will re-learn all you lost.
You have no choice.
"But... what? What do you mean?"
The door surprised her by sliding open, one smooth pillar rising before the rest, then those beside it, and those beside them, until all of the door was wide open, and a woosh of colder air flowed into the room.
Go. Prepare. Dress. Arm yourself.
The Calamity grows stronger. It cannot be held at bay indefinitely.
You must.
"I don't understand," she heard herself whimper.
You will.
As she read the words, those heavy, weighted words, the light disappeared and the screen went dark. She poked it, again and again, but there was no response.
Finally, left with no other choice but a growing hunger in her belly, the woman, Zelda she supposed, shook her head, catching glimpses of still-wet, golden hair out of the corners of her eyes that reached to her ankles. It must have been growing, she realized, while she lay on the bed. After she wiped eyes that were too dry to weep in frustration, the woman made her way to the next room.
It was simply appointed, little more than a closet with another door on the far side. A single shelf held a white dress, torn and muddied, that had once been fancy and elegant, fit for a priestess... or a princess.
That and a pair of sandals, crafted of leather with thin soles, equally caked in mud but in slightly better shape, were all that sat on the shelf. Zelda stared.
Eventually, the object in her numb left hand beeped again, and she raised it to glare downward.
Dress yourself, Princess.
You may not remember, but those clothes belong to you.
Make your way outside. There is nothing here but a slow starvation and death for you, and a more painful, agonizing death for Hyrule.
If Hyrule falls to the Calamity because you did not have the wisdom and courage to act, the world will fall, too.
Calamity will be all that remains.
You are of the bloodline of a Goddess, Princess.
You must act.
I, too, wish it were not so.
But the situation is what it is. We cannot change it.
Not by staying here, at any rate.
Act.
With numb, trembling fingers, gasping and panting for breath though the exertion wasn't enough to strain a toddler, Zelda put the nearly weightless object, for all its size, on the shelf and reached out for the dress.
It had actually been cleaned, she realized, the brown was stained from dirt... and blood. Old blood, from the collar and shoulders down the left side. It had spilled past her chest and waist, even run down one leg, though most curled around that side, as if she had been carried, while bleeding out, facing upward after taking the wound and standing for a while.
The sandals were clean too, and surprisingly comfortable once she slipped them on. They went on first, because it felt strange to put this dress, so fine and yet so worn and tarnished, over her. Finally, with a sigh, she did.
... And immediately shivered. Just knowing it was old blood, her blood, that caked the dress gave her the willies. Zelda didn't feel like she was frightened of the sight of blood itself. She was, unfortunately, no stranger to violence. Was she?
It was so hard to say, and damn it all for being so frustrating!
But that was a lot.
And hadn't the device mentioned her... morbidity? Her hippocampus, too, whatever that was. Wait... no, she knew that, somehow. The center of her brain had been severely damaged. Had she actually died, and somehow the Shrine of Resurrection had done exactly that, and brought her back? Or kept her mind alive despite her body dying, until it could be revived through some arcane power?
She felt a strange wash of gratitude now vying for space in her overly-crowded (and yet strangely empty) head for the slab on the shelf, and the machines that had somehow kept her alive. However they worked, whoever had built them, it had apparently saved her life.
Of course she'd rather have her memories intact.
But at least she was alive to build new ones, wasn't she?
Once dressed, Zelda picked up the device once more, and found it attached conveniently to a spring-loaded clasp- a carabiner, she somehow recalled- on the dress' too-fancy belt. The weight felt comforting, familiar, there, for all it weighed very little. A device that large that looked like it was made of stone and glass should weigh more, she thought, but the whole thing was less than one of her thin sandals.
But it still felt right, having it there.
As it settled into place and she stood tall for the first time in... who knows how long, the other door opened in the same way the first one had. Beyond that was a long, long corridor filled with the same orange constellations on the walls and ceiling, leading out, and out, and eventually, up a stone staircase.
Then... sunlight.
Brilliant, bright, sunlight.
Zelda started to run, unaware of any conscious decision to do so, and soon she was out, for the first time in a hundred years, breathing the fresh, sweet air of her kingdom. Grass moved against her legs, swirled around the remains of the white dress, and was trampled beneath her sandals. Around her, trees nestled against gray granite cliffs. Overhead, the sky was a brilliant blue, marvelous, one of her favorite colors, she knew, it had to be, along with the vibrant green of grass and leaf, and gray stone, and yellow sun, and wildflowers of purple and pink and red and white and clouds too, and there was just so, so much she had missed without even knowing it existed, and-
Shadow.
Death.
Her eyes, sweeping over the wide, vast landscape of the kingdom once known as Hyrule, Zelda's eyes fell on the five great spires, angled in and around the majestic, hilltop fortress-palace that had been, she suspected, her home.
No... it was her home, once.
No longer.
Just at the edge of the horizon if the land hadn't risen to frame the castle itself, had she not been so high it would've been invisible, the great Castle Hyrule, home of her family for many generations, stood. Now, it was surrounded by death, and pain, and magic so foul that even from fifty or more miles away, it burned against her eyes, what felt like her very soul.
Zelda could not look away.