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IMPORTANT: MUST READ A Note on Chronology of Story Events:

The Legend of Zelda and the Last Knight is a story that will be divided into three volumes. The first volume is self-titled and is complete. If you haven't read that book yet, I suggest you do so in order to understand the context and characters established in this next volume. The second book is named TLOZATLK: Swords and Roses, and the title of the third and final installment is yet to be determined.

This is the second Book.

Now, it goes without saying that it wouldn't be impossible to read the second volume first and backtrack to the first book, but I don't recommend it. Many events in the second book will reference the first book and tie up loose ends from the first volume. That brings me to my next important note to share.

Some chapters in this story will hearken back to memories before the calamity, while others will show the future of events yet to come. Most of the story, however, will follow a linear fashion, and main chapters that are current will be numbered with one, two, three, and so on. Chapters consisting of memories from first-person perspectives won't be numbered at all. Memory chapters in third-person relative to the narrator and characters in those chapters will NOT be numbered as well. Memory chapters will work in linear fashion relative to each other. While some chapters will consist of a glimpse of an hour into the past, others will be a day, a fortnight, or even a month's worth of events. I will only use italicized lettering for current narrative chapters that have memories shown between them via flashbacks or other character recall events.

This leads me to my most important detail before you embark on this journey. The first several chapters of this book will be taking a look at loose ends from the previous book and will finish up events from the past one hundred years leading up to the Calamity. If you need a brush-up on context for things mentioned in the past, I recommend reading from the first book several parts, starting with these chapters:

Chapter 26: The Breach of Memories (the second half, when the memory begins)

Chapter 27: Eruptions (where the memory begins)

Chapter: Over Ten Thousand Years Ago, Today (the whole thing)

Chapter 30: Flashback Climax (the part where the memory begins)

Chapter: Why We Failed One Hundred Years Ago - Part 1 (the whole thing)

Chapter 31: From Their Dreams Come Peace (the part where the flashback happens)

Re-reading these should catch you up on any details you may have forgotten or missed. Everything of significance will play a role in my story. I dislike McGuffins or red herrings. That being said, some things will turn out to be minor, whereas others that seemed minor will turn out to be key to the story. You will just have to wait and see.

Now, with no further ado, I hope you enjoy. Let me know your thoughts in a comment below now that my story has reset to zero stars or comments. Thanks! - Sky

Chapter Text

Why we failed one hundred Years ago

Part 2

Honor among thieves

They had thrown the bodies into the wagon and set it ablaze at dawn, ensuring that any light from the fire would remain hidden from nearby patrols. The acrid scent of burning flesh clung to their clothes for hours afterward, but they had endured far worse before. The smoke would not be a problem either, thanks to the Dying Mountains' notorious tar pits, which belched forth their own putrid fog, indistinguishable from the black smoke. Jun couldn't decide which foul odor he found more repugnant: the smell of dead men or the boiling stench of mountain bogs. The humid air didn't make things any better either and each swallow of air lingered foul on the tongue making every breath a chore.

He and his band of rogues had already been caught once, and that narrow escape was already too close for comfort. Regrettably, this meant they had to abandon any supplies they couldn't carry themselves, making an already challenging mission even more formidable. With each passing day, fatigue and dwindling rations weighed them down, and the merciless sun beat upon their backs. They had no choice but to press on, navigating the treacherous secret mountain pass.

Even with all that against them, Jun was surprisingly optimistic and full of youthful energy. "See, nothing to it. Didn't I tell you that plan would work? Those stone crows never saw what hit them! Now, am I right or am I right?"

"Stop celebrating. You just got lucky back there, that's all," a gruffer voice countered. "If these had been Dragoons you'd be singing a different tune boy!"

"Speak for yourself! Ha!" The handsome young boy raised a clenched fist. He wore a dark straw hat and was clad in blue stealth attire. His silver long hair, a unique feature among his companions, fell to his shoulders. The others either shaved their scalps completely or sported a single lock of hair fashioned into a sideways ponytail which accented their smooth heads.

Jun continued, "Luck has nothing to do with it! I make my own luck, and for those who don't know what that means, it means I'm skilled. Unlike you, I actually have talent."

"Yeah, you're skilled all right," a brawny man in his twenties scoffed. "Skilled at eating before anyone else and sneaking off like an alley cat when work needs to be done. I don't see what you're smiling about anyway. We're down two men now, or haven't you noticed?" The man shoved the lad, but the kid held his ground, unflinching.

"I noticed," the brave boy retorted. "But that's the cost of war. They know what they signed up for. The sensei always says it's an honor to die for the cause—"

"Tell that to the ones who died."

Another voice, even more menacing and rough, interjected, "And what do you know of death, boy?"

"I know enough..." The boy flashed a grin, unsheathing a curved dirk and twirling it expertly like a juggler before sheathing it again. The boy chuckled softly. "Maybe, if you'd given me a more significant role back there other than a glorified distraction, they might still be alive!"

The largest and most intimidating man among them, Saburo, spat on the rocky steps of the mountain pass as they trudged along. "I doubt that."

Jun huffed back defiantly, wearing a grin. "Ah, what do you know! The sensei chose me as well as the rest of you for this mission, and I mean to see it through! He sees something in me!"

"Yeah, he sees a brat who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut and let the men do the talking!" Jiro retorted. "He probably sent you with us to get rid of you once and for all! After all, this mission of ours has a very high chance of death! Maybe that was his reckoning?" the slender assassin laughed heartily.

Like the boy, he too was garbed in dark blue attire, but unlike him, he wasn't handsome at all and had a grotesque scar that slashed his left eye which reached his chin. It also didn't help that he moved like a snake, almost swaying side to side. The larger brute, Saburo, lumbered along like a cave hinox. Those who also trailed behind were more or less rather normal in comparison. Well, as assassins go that is.

"Whatever... You're just jealous that I've been chosen to go on an important mission like this younger than you ever were... You'll see..." The lad shrugged, ignoring their doubts. "We'll soon be at the capital, and I'll show you all."

The small warrior leaped into the air as if to kick his heels together, with a raised fist in the air. "I can't wait! I've never been to a city that big before. Just ripe for the taking and I hear the girls there are pretty too, which makes it even better! Hell, I may even have a little fun while I'm at it. After all, we'll have three days to explore, right? I could even have some fun for the both of us! How would you like that, Jiro?"

"Settle down, will ya!" Jiro chastised, taking a deep breath as he tried to collect himself. His tone was harsh. It had been a long and tumultuous journey, more so than he expected, and he was in no mood to entertain a child. "We didn't come here to fraternize with the enemy. We are on explicit orders from the Sensei!"

"Yeah, we are, but I don't remember him putting you in charge," retorted the lad. "By what right does that make you chief slayer, hmm? The Sensei made it clear that Sasuke will be leading the mission."

"Why, you pesky little gutter rat. I'll have you spitting blood—"

"Enough squabbling you two." Came the rough shout of their leader. Sasuke's commanding voice cut through the cacophony like a sudden gust of wind. "You're both giving me a splitting headache from all your jibber-jabbering. For three days I had to endure your endless squabbling. Must you two squawk like a pair of marsh birds until the end of time?"

"Sorry, Sasuke. He just gets on my nerves. He has no respect," Jiro insisted, head hung low in respect.

"I have plenty, just not for you, Jiro," teased the young one.

Jiro's face reddened all over again, and he balled up a fist, but their leader stepped between them. "Enough, I said! He is just a boy! Don't let him rile you up so. Besides, I'm going to need my best men levelheaded when we arrive," Sasuke spoke, halting the group with stiff raised hands during their march down a hidden narrow canyon. A secret and treacherous trail only they knew about.

The donkeys whined, and several of the other men pulled back on them toward the end of the group. They arrived at a cove that was shielded on all sides. A perfect place to make camp until sunset. It was too scorching a day to carry on, and the animals wouldn't have it, not without some rest and watering.

"Now listen, all of you," the leader signaled for everyone to huddle; rallying the dozen of them. Sasuke spoke up, "We'll be upon the gates of the city by daybreak tomorrow, and we all best be ready. Remember, the Sensei isn't kind to those who fail him. We are to accomplish two objectives. We all know our roles to play, right?" The leader pointed to the youngest one of them. "Jun, what will you be doing?"

The boy rolled his eyes and sighed, wishing he had a larger part. "I know, I know... Watching after our escape and making sure to have us some better mounts ready for when we get out of there."

"Good," Sasuke nodded, his eyes sweeping over the group. "Now, ensure you get us a fair price tomorrow at Silverrupee Square for these donkeys and Gerudo trinkets we plundered. These animals served us well and they were strong and dumb when we needed them to be. They were perfect for climbing these arid mountains and wasteland trails; and they also don't spook easily like horses do and can traverse these rocky, hidden passes better. But, unlike a good horse they are slower than a Goron rolling uphill. And that makes them useless for what is coming.

"Once our task is done, we'll need to be swift as lightning if we want any hope of keeping our heads on our shoulders. By then the whole Royal army will be on our heels which makes our journey back to the rendezvous a different road than the secret one we are on now. Our only chance of survival is a hasty escape to where we can lose them. So, we'll be relying solely on you to secure us swift steeds for our getaway. And they don't come cheap. Nothing but good, strong destriers will do. No mistakes this time, do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand, sheesh. It's not like I've ever failed you before."

"No, but I want you to take this seriously. Our lives are in your hands. If we don't escape, you might as well plunge headfirst into that chasm over there. It would be preferable to the fate that awaits you if you fail. These people may call us the savages but don't be fooled, it is they who will show you no mercy, child or not.... And as for the rest of you!" Sasuke shouted, capturing everyone's attention. "Half of you will create a diversion at the ceremony, while Tanaka, Ichiro, and I will spring the main trap to crush those who dare oppose us. Jiro, you and Saburo will deal with our esteemed guest of honor and secure the prize."

One of the rogues spoke up. "But how are we to do that? That part of the castle grounds is heavily guarded. We'll never get within five leagues without being caught for sure!"

"Not to worry. I have it under the best authority that by the morrow's twilight veil the Sanctum stairwell will be practically defenseless."

"You do? But how can you be so sure?" Tanaka questioned, cupping his chin. He wasn't a coward by any imagination but even he acknowledged the peril that would put them in if they miscalculated even the slightest bit.

"Because he has a man on the inside, that's how." Jiro chuckled with a snorty laugh.

Sasuke turned and smiled, surprised that his subordinate could be so clever. "My oh my, I'm impressed Jiro. I give you credit. You really are just as smart as you are ugly, just like Jun says."

Jiro was about to chuckle, pleased by the compliment not before realizing it wasn't one.

"See, even Sasuke thinks you would scare the maidens away." blurted Jun, covering a hearty laugh with both hands.

"Shuddup!" Jiro groaned. "Why you! Just wait until I get my hands on you—"

"--Enough already!" shouted their leader. He took in a deep breath and focused on the plan at hand. "But, you're right... I have just the man we need."

Another man interrupted. "But, how do you know that this Hylian can be trusted? After all, they are all nothing but treacherous vermin! The whole lot of them! No honor among any of them!"

Sasuke grinned, relishing his secret knowledge. "Funny you should say that. When he came to me, I thought he'd be more worried about us betraying him. He's quite determined this one, even refusing our payment. This is personal for him. We can use that to our advantage."

"But, what if this Hylian turns his back on us or springs a trap? What then?" Ichiro asked, fanning his arms out in a worry. 

Tanaka perked up and  unsheathed his sickle. "Then I say, let him try! I ain't afraid of the Royal guards and I'm certainly not afraid of any hylian!'"

"--Yeah, so long as if they're little or old, that is!" japed another, hacking away at Tanaka's pride. Some of the others in the group broke up into laughter.

"Stop that! All of ya's! I mean it!" Tanaka raged, but before things could escalate the stern low voice of their leader cut through their smiles into silence. 

"Enough," said Sasuke, clearing his throat. "This is our plan and if any man here doubts it then let him speak his peace now." The fierce master scanned the group with his red eyed glare and not a one dared to utter a phrase of objection. 

With the matter settled Jiro relented. "I see...Well, then...If you're confident in this man, then that's good enough for me. You've never failed us yet Master."

"But, we're going to need the Princess as well if our plans are going to work!" Blurted another. "Sensei said that the Greenwitch made it very clear that we need her and the Ark. Both of them!" 

"That's right," Concurred Jiro.

"I can help with that! No sweat!" Jun piped up.

"You? You're just a boy of hardly twelve!" Jiro groaned and shoved back the lad. "This kind of work is the province of men! You best stay out of it and leave this to the professionals."

"Why not, I'm just as good at slitting throats as any of you! I'm much better, in fact. Because, unlike your ugly mug that will frighten them from here to yonder over the hills, I, on the other hand, am handsome. They would never assume anything coming from me. It would be the last thing they'd suspect."

"Why you no good little runt! I had just about enough out of your mouth! I'll run you through-" Jiro raised his sword.

"Stop it!" Sasuke interjected.

" But Master Sasuke, he needs to learn some manners!"

"I said shut up already... I can barely hear myself think...hmm...yes, wait a minute." Their leader spun and gazed up to the sunset sky and pondered for what seemed like hours to the others though was only a moment. "Perhaps the boy has a point. Yes, I think our little miscreant is right. Our mischief-maker here might be better suited for this task than any of us." Sasuke spoke up, turning back to face the group.

"Ah, Master Sasuke, you can't be serious to trust a mere boy with something so important."

"I am."

Ichiro chimed also. "Come off it already, Jiro! Cut the lad some slack will ya?" the man chuckled up a devilish grin. "And besides, better the boy risk his neck than me having to do so. I say let him have a crack at it. If he wants to prove himself so bad, then I say, let him."

"Wahoo! Now we're talking! Leave the princess to me, no prob!" Jun exclaimed, bouncing on his toes. With a flourish, he whipped his hat from his head, performing a dazzling illusion that made it vanish, leaving only a shower of burning talismans that flickered and faded before they could touch the ground.

Jiro rebuffed, "And what do you know about girls? Hmm?"

"I know I'll know a heck of a lot more about them before you ever will, that's for sure!" Jun snarked, implicating his scarred face that even a mother couldn't love.

"What! Why, you're just a boy what do you know?! You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. It takes a man! Hell, you're too young to even know what it's like to even be with a woman! Let alone beguile and befriend one."

"Neither do you, and that doesn't stop you from thinking you're an expert!"

"Why you pipsqueak!" Jiro attempted to jerk the boy and throttle him but he was too swift.

As the lad fled, Sasuke stepped between them and snared him by the shirt. "Hold on just a second. Are you sure you're up for this Jun? You may have aided in the slaying of full-grown men before. But, those were soldiers of the Draene army, hedge knights or the bought mercenaries of outskirt lords. This is entirely different. It's one thing to slit the throat of brigands and soldiers but to slay young girls in their sleep...I don't know...."

"I got this....Trust me Master Sasuke, I can do this. Just give me the chance." Pleaded the young warrior, begging to be taken seriously as a man.

"Are you sure? Can you take the life of an innocent maiden if the time came? Do you have what it takes? I mean, do you really? Because this is nothing like you're used to. Could you end the life of a sweet smile coming from a beautiful, helpless girl when the time comes? Act with precision, maintain your focus even as the fast pace of her breathing is in your ear? Could you do the deed when her shivering eyes are staring back at you begging for mercy?"

Sasuke pressed his interrogation, not letting up the psychological taunts. "Can you handle the quiver of her trembling skin against your cold steel as it opens up her throat, spilling her red life? The terrible quivering of her body in your arms before she fades to stillness as you silence her pleas forever?" The leader of the Yiga outlaws finished, his eyes fixed on Jun.

Jun shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the group.

"Well, boy! Can ya!?" Jiro demanded, his voice low and forceful. Saburo also stood by menacingly, crossing his arms.

Jun swallowed hard, his hand gripping tightly on the hilt of his recurved blade. It was now or never to prove himself to them that he was a Yiga assassin through and through and was ready. All the eyes of his companions were on him. "Yes, yes! Enough already, I get it!" he exclaimed, frustration in his voice. "Don't worry. I can handle this. But why would I have to kill the girl anyways? I thought the Sensei needs her alive for the ritual? I thought the plan is to gain her trust and lure her away with me?"

Sasuke answered. "We do, but the Princess has many lady servants in her charge. One could easily get in the way...Who knows what will happen in the next three days and if that were to be the case, then it would be up to you to maintain the peace. There can be no hesitations." The leader squeezed the lad's shoulder as he pulled away. "Get it?"

Jiro shoved him by the other side impatiently, "Well!? Do ya?"

"Yeah, I get it..." Jun huffed back annoyed.

"You best will, or it will be me coming for your throat! Do you hear me?" Jiro threatened. His towering partner, Saburo stomped beside him in agreement.

"You act like I don't hate these people as much as any of you do. Need I remind you what they did to my family? My parents? They're murderers...all of them. I want them all to suffer just as much as you do! As I have suffered!" Jun retorted, tears beginning to well up in his eyes, but he fought hard not to show them or any fear. So, with a sniff they disappeared.

The leader stood beside him and embraced him with one arm over his shoulder and with his other hand poked firmly against the boy's chest. The lad couldn't tell if it was a demand, a promise, an offering of good luck, or even a threat. But he listened anyway. "That's right and don't forget it when the time comes. Remember that and all that the Sensei has done for you. All of us. There can be no mistakes this time, Jun. Not by anyone or we're as good as dead already. We are all counting on you!" The leader said, his voice firm.

"Yeah, I know...I know..." Jun said, unpacking a light dinner from his satchel which revealed a dried piece of fish and some stale flatbread. Not the best, but when starving it tasted gourmet. "But, I must confess..." he chewed as he spoke. "It sure is a shame that the pretty ones will have to die along with the others. I hear the Princess is quite the flower pedal of Hyrule." Jun added.

"Jun! This is serious." The leader said, his tone stern. "Or must I have someone else—"

"I know...I was only saying. I will do my part; you don't have to worry about me. I swear. You just take care of the rest and I'll be ready when the time comes." He said with a determined glint in the red irises of his eyes.

And with that the leader relented, realizing that the boy's facade of innocence may have been their best hope. "Here take this—all of you." The leader said, handing them each a vial.

"What is it?" Jiro asked.

"A little special something I got during our farewell. A goodluck charm from our dear friend the Greenwitch. A transformation potion. I'm promised that this brew will cloak the glow our eyes to look like theirs. But, only for three days. After that, we'll be on our own, and will be naked. They will notice them by then. So, we have to work fast." The leader explained.

Jun eagerly took a swig of the potion and blinked before spinning to face the others. "Well, how do I look?"

"Still as foolish as ever!" Jiro replied, rolling his eyes.

"Oh yeah? Well, you're still ugly as ever! I guess there's no magic cure for that! Sorry!" Jun retorted, smirking.

"Why you disrespecting, miserable runt!" Jiro growled. "We should have left you where we found ya!"

"Stand back Jiro and listen up!" The leader said, before turning to Jun. "Okay, Jun we are in your hands. These only change our eyes for the time being, but we will need better disguises once the festival of the flame starts. We can get lost in the incoming crowds of pilgrims and travelers but even plain as we are now, some of us cannot. Even with the Greenwitch's magic brew we still need something else to get close to the royal procession when the ceremony begins. Something that won't draw any suspicion."

"So, what are you suggesting?" Tanaka asked.

Sasuke smiled devilishly. "I'm thinking, masks. You will have to do this for us as well, Jun. Find us some from a merchant. They shouldn't be too hard to find. After all, with the 'dawn of the new peace' celebration being held they will all be commemorating their sacred festival of renewal and the princess's ascension. A lot of them will be also wearing masks to show their praise too. That will be our chance. But you need to acquire them for those of us who are wanted men before we could enter the city. It's too risky even with the potion for some of us who are known by the guards to be seen in broad daylight."

Ichiro glanced about to the others who had worry stamped on their faces. "Don't fret men, Jun can do this, I know he can."

Jun smiled, a sense of pride filled him at the acknowledgement from his master.

"Remember, many people will be wearing them too, so nobody will think anything of it."

Everyone nodded at the plans mentioned thus far and Sasuke spoke a final word on the matter. "Now, you all know your orders and what to do. And if everything goes well according to the plan tomorrow, in three days the good people of this kingdom will see the royal family for false gods they truly are once and for all... They will wish they never bent the knee to them."

The leader ushered their fists into the huddle, and each offered up a salute and declaration. "Remember my brothers, do or die, forever our memory echoes on in secrets and shadows!" And in one voice they shouted in unison their sacred credo. "Secrets and shadows!"

Authors Notes: Thanks for reading this far and be sure to leave a comment if you enjoyed the chapter now that the story has reset all its numbers. Thanks! 

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why we failed one-hundred years ago

Part 3

Dawn of the first day

The early morning rays bathed the castle courtyard in a warm glow, casting long shadows from the towering walls and pillars. The air was fragrant with the scent of blooming Hylialilies and Snapdragons from the gardens along with the glistening dewdrops of lilies floating in the moats, all intermingling with the irresistible aroma of freshly baked pastries wafting from the town's bakeries. The gentle breeze danced through the courtyard, carrying these delightful scents with it. Zelda couldn't help but smile as she leaned out into the open air of her castle window, feeling the sun's warmth and fresh breeze on her face while the nervous excitement bubbled within her. She knew that today was no ordinary day; it was the beginning of a grand celebration and a rite of passage for both her and the incoming Royal Guardsmen pledges.

As she listened to the ringing of bells heralding the arrival of pilgrims to the city, Zelda felt a mix of joy and nervousness. In just two days, she would celebrate her sixteenth birthday, taking on the mantle of the heir to the sealing power and blessing the new fledglings of the Royal Guard. More specifically, the victor of the final test would be given the highest honor and granted the privilege of serving in her personal guard. It was a day that would change her life forever. On one hand, she dreaded the moment, fearing failure and wishing she could remain a child; never having to worry about the impending Calamity and her key role in stopping it.

And on the other, the young lady within her longed to spread her golden wings like the sigil of her house and take flight, embracing her destiny as the leader she was born to be. She yearned to see the world and prove to everyone that she was more than just a paper princess, and that she truly had what it took to fulfill her duty and save her people like her forebears had done so long ago. However, with all the excitement of the coming jubilee, a swirl of trepidation resounded within her. She couldn't shake the worry that she might not live up to everyone's expectations, that she might be a lesser daughter of greater sires from the stories.

When she was a child, everything had seemed so far away, like a dream. The idea of war had always been abstract, like a distant story only mentioned in legend or happening in some faraway land. Not something that happened in real life, especially not in her world. With Hyrule enjoying many years of peace, the impending doom was hard to imagine. So, while growing up she had tucked away the idea in the back of her mind, but no matter how much she tried to avoid it, the thought of the Calamity always resurfaced, reminding her that time was running out and that one day she will be a child no longer and must face it alone.

As Zelda's thoughts threatened to overwhelm her the joyful chimes of bells rang above the castle grounds setting her at ease. This time they were much closer. The courtyard was abuzz with activity, and even the usually stoic guards wore smiles as they carried out their duties. They took extra care and time to greet her from afar as she walked among them while they loaded crates and moved wagons carrying supplies for the upcoming tourney. From every castle worker to the garden-tending maids, everyone was eagerly preparing for the festivities that would surely bring smiles to all. It was a much-needed reprieve from the ill tidings that had been foretold recently.

Zelda couldn't help but feel grateful for the beautiful day, the company of her friends, and the upcoming celebration before the main inauguration. She cherished the joy and revelry of her people. What filled her with dread, however, was the role she would play in the coming night's sacred ceremonies. All eyes would be upon her, scrutinizing her every step and every syllable of prayer and dictation.

High Priest Gallivan especially would hover over her like a vulture with that beak of his, ensuring she adhered to an impossibly perfect standard. That was the part she could have done without. Yet, it was expected of her.

She knew the true significance of this day. Beyond the smiles, cheers, and shouts from her people, it would be etched in her memory as the day she took her first step toward becoming the savior of Hyrule. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, all the way to her very core.

"Your Majesty! The Queen's brother has arrived!" A guard at her door knocked, interrupting Zelda's daydream, rousing her from any unpleasant thoughts or worries to come. Allowing for her to bask in the happy present instead. He's here! He made it! So soon? The princess perked up from her seat where she sat by the window while she listened to the bustling below. Her uncle's arrival only added to her excitement. He was her favorite after all. The bells and trumpets heralded his return and she rushed towards the sound, feeling the familiar embrace of family. The king saw her bolt by and followed after her. The mood outside was jovial, filled with laughter and joy.

The herald's voice boomed. "All hail he who has journeyed far from the north! Lord of the Eagle's nest and guardian of the mountain pass, Prince Arcturus Zerelius Hyrule!"

The king dismissed the herald beside the pair of statues who were guardsmen.

"I think I'd recognize my wife's brother?" The king guffawed, coming down a small flight of steps that led from the castle into the royal gardens where Arcturus had emerged from a carriage. The princess shortly behind, beaming.

"Well, I'd hope so! Because I can hardly recognize you." Zelda's uncle teased, sending his driver to unload his trunk all the while wearing a mischievous grin aimed at the king "What have you done with my Sister's husband and the king, you usurper!?"

"Enough already!" The king roared a full belly laugh. "Get over here, you dog! Let me get a proper look at you!" Zelda's father clasped her uncle's shoulders in a warm embrace. "I trust you've been well. Good I hope?"

The man was slender and tall, though not quite reaching the king's towering height, he still stood a head above most Hylians. He was adorned in a refined white and blue doublet, embellished with delicate Lofteagle trimmings – a testament to his noble status as the queen's younger sibling. In his early thirties, he sported a neatly trimmed blond mustache, which accentuated his strong, regal features and blue eyes.

His countenance emanated a sincere warmth and happiness, making him a beloved presence amongst the denizens of the kingdom. As a scion of House Hyrule, he stemmed from the most prestigious family of the realm, further solidifying his esteemed position in the royal lineage.

"Wonderful, just wonderful. Cold and wretched in the mountains as always." The queen's brother said wearing a jovial sarcastic smile. He patted the kings' arms from side to side. "Not like the beautiful weather here you both get to enjoy, that's for sure. But, somebody has to guard the old home and keep the Northern Lords in line."

Arcturus grinned, laughter escaping the side of his lips. "My gracious. I can hardly wrap my arms around you, dear brother. Court life here in the capital must be very nice to you... or very stressful."

The king exhaled with a hint of exasperation, furrowing his brow as he carefully whispered to her uncle, ensuring Zelda wouldn't overhear. The princess was preoccupied, directing his entourage and servants with her uncle's belongings, oblivious to their conversation. "It's been rather taxing," the king confided, "I'm besieged by requests from every lord from Hera to Hateno. I find myself submerged in a sea of parchments, each one clamoring for the opportunity to win my daughter's hand, especially now that the ceremony is nigh. By the end of tomorrow's twilight, my little girl will be a lady of the realm, with all the responsibilities that entails."

"I can see how that could be quite the annoyance."

The king continued, venting his frustrations. "Can't these lords comprehend that we stand on the eve of war against the most formidable adversary we've ever faced? And yet, they obsess over marriage proposals. She is only yet to be sixteen."

"Well, if I recall, my sister was only seventeen when she married you?" Zelda's uncle began with a sigh.

"That is beside the point, things were different then. Zerudia and I were in love."

"We're you really?" Arcturus grinned with a lean. "At the wise, ripe age of seventeen?"

The king raised his dismissive brows and continued as if he didn't hear. "And I fought for her hand and served your father for many, many years. But, my poor Zelda Araleia has been thrusted with so much burden, more so than ever her mother was given. Soon, everything will rest on her shoulders. She hasn't the time for the attention of men who would want to win her hand. And the worse of it all they know it. For most it isn't for her they want, but my crown."

Arcturus added. "Well, Ambition knows no bounds, my King," He continued to reply sagely. "But, who could blame them? A once in a lifetime opportunity to become king, give up their family name like you did and have the distinct honor of marrying your daughter. With each passing day, she blossoms, resembling her mother more and more. My sister was quite the jewel of the kingdom. All said as such."

"Did you say something, Uncle?" Zelda inquired, catching the tail end of their conversation as she finished coordinating the servants.

"Why, yes," he responded, turning the mood jovial. "I was just remarking to your father how much you remind me of my dear late sister. The resemblance is so uncanny that it's becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish between you two when she was your age. I have no doubt that your mother's spirit lives on through you, my sweet niece."

"Aw, Thank you, Uncle." The princess replied humbly. "I do wish to honor her memory well these next three days and that she will be proud of me."

"I have no doubt she will."

Zelda smiled a quiet laugh. "Father says the same as you. Although, I recall her being far more beautiful than I could ever be. She was like an angel, at least...in my memory." She finished softly, relishing in the recollection of her mother.

The king interjected, "She is an angel dear."

"Yes," Zelda agreed softly.

Arcturus chuckled, infusing the atmosphere with lightheartedness before her passing memory would fade to sadness. "As for you, my brother, I'm not quite as certain..." He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What are you insinuating?" The king demanded, feigning offense, hands crossed over his chest.

"Forgive me for saying this," Zelda's uncle couldn't resist the jest, turning to her with a grin, "Sweet Niece, ever since your father ascended the throne, it seems he's grown rather... rotund about the waist! What happened to fierce fit warrior I once knew? It seems he traded his fiery auburn hair for a white beard too." He chuckled and leaned into her ear. "Gracious me, what have you been feeding him, my dear?"

"Not me, Uncle! It's the castle kitchens!" Zelda snorted a laugh, smiling in kind as they began to walk in lockstep through the gardens, her father in tow.

"Ah, of course, the ever-elusive culprits! How could they?" Her uncle responded, squeezing her shoulder in a half-embrace before leaning closer to whisper conspiratorially, "You'd best keep an eye on them, or we might need a wheelhouse to transport your father to the ceremony!"

"I heard that!" the king chortled, "It's all muscle, I assure you. That, and mayhaps a bit of bad tailoring! I promise you I can still out arm any man in the kingdom," he defended, raising a large fist.

"I bet you can," Her uncle said to him, winking at Zelda not before addressing the king again. "I trust you've apprehended the man behind this grievous affront! To attire His Royal Highness in such unflattering garments is an unspeakable offense!"

"Have you had your fill?" The king said, his burly fists gripping his belt.

"For the moment, dear brother!" he spun, letting loose of his niece.

"Do you realize I could have you arrested for insulting your king?"

"Indeed, but then who would watch over those northern vultures for you and maintain peace between the Riverlords and Mountain men? You know they have just as much in common between them as Zora do Gorons."

"Then I guess it would be quite the problem if you were busy in the dungeons here, wouldn't it?" the king said, glancing at him stern.

"Indeed." Zelda's uncle laughed before forcing the king to bellow a chuckle of his own.

Zelda couldn't help but join in their laughter, reveling in the warmth and joy her uncle's presence brought. "Tell me, how fare the Ironside hills?" she chirped. Those were his lands, and they weren't really hills at all. A secluded mountain range in fact. Royal territory outside the purview of any of the three fiefdoms of the north, Bountiful, Stonelands, or the Marshlands.

"Ah, the usual disputes over this plot of land or that tree... I dread every time we get just an inkling of skyfall."

"Why is that?" The princess blinked curiously, carrying his inlay leather satchel.

"Because it would seem the goddess is punishing me for some crime that I have no idea I committed. Every time a little puddle or stream appears from the rain out from the woodwork every lord great or small all of a sudden wants to convene a witan to draw up new borderlines of who's land is whose. You know, the typical squabbles." Her Uncle said, cleaning off a shiny red apple with his satin sleeve before taking a juicy munch.

As they caught up on the latest news from the Ironside Hills, Zelda felt a mixture of nerves and excitement for the upcoming ceremony. She was to take on the mantle of heir apparent to the goddess and become the kingdom's protector against the impending threat of Calamity Ganon.

"Oh, and I have a surprise for you, my dear!" her uncle said, piquing her interest.

"A surprise?" Zelda said, leaning with a brow raised.

"Yes, a present! You'll love it when you see it!" Her uncle's gift only added to her anticipation.

"Oh, Uncle, you didn't have to do that. You coming here after so many years is gift enough," she said gratefully.

"Well, I insist. It isn't every day when a princess becomes heir apparent to the goddess, now is it?" he replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Curiosity piqued, Zelda looked about, the carriage had long left, and they were still in the courtyard, trotting along the cobblestone path near the gardens. Confused she asked, "So... Where is this gift, Uncle?"

"Oh, it isn't with me. Much too large for that," he replied with a chuckle. "But don't you fret, I promise it will be worth the wait when it does arrive for you on Ascension Day."

Zelda couldn't wait to see what her uncle had in store for her. She felt grateful for his presence for these special few days and knew that his playful nature would keep the celebration lively and entertaining.

As the morning progressed, preparations for the ceremony were well underway. The castle grounds were adorned with banners of the royal crest, and court musicians piled onto the garden grass to practice their pieces. With every passing hour, more nobility and foreign dignitaries entered through the gates, greeted by music and there they offered their support to Hyrule's crown and went forth throughout the capital, to also prepare their people for the coming three days. The air was filled with anticipation and excitement. Zelda had left her uncle in the company of her father and it was time for her to prepare herself for the coming day in her quarters.

Simultaneously, elsewhere in the capital, the early sun's warm embrace cast a vibrant, golden hue over the city, and the commoner district stirred with excitement and anticipation. Today marked the beginning of Hyrule's grandest festival, a three-day celebration filled with joy and wonder. From far and wide, merchants, pilgrims, and those simply wishing to bask in the festivities flocked through the city gates, filling the town to the brim with a palpable energy.

The Narrow Docks, nestled in the heart of the commoner district, hummed with activity. Fishermen, tradesmen, and merchants relied on the intricate network of rivers flowing into Hyrule Castle Town to ferry goods throughout the realm. The waterways connected to larger rivers and eventually led to the sea, making the Narrow Docks an essential lifeline for the kingdom's commerce.

The air was alive with the scent of flowing rivers and the fresh mist carried on gentle breezes that danced through the marketplace. The cawing of birds and gulls filled the air, accompanied by the rhythmic creaking of docked boats and the gentle lapping of water against the shore. The sounds of merchants haggling over prices and the laughter of children at play melded together to create a symphony of life and celebration. Their parents awaiting eagerly nearby as they finished their errands.

Link, disguised as a Royal Guardsman alongside the veteran Finn was voluntold to aid him in today's preparations. Together, they navigated the lively scene, weaving through throngs of people as they sought out a particular merchant selling wares Finn needed for the upcoming trials and ceremony.

Finn turned to Link and said, "Stay close, my young fledgling. This place is a maze, and it's easy to get lost in all the excitement. We only have to make a simple detour before we can head to the castle. I promise I'll have you back in plenty of time for the preliminary trials."

Link nodded, his eyes taking in the vivid colors of the market, where merchants displayed their wares with pride. As they wandered through the lively marketplace, the tantalizing aromas of street food enticed their senses. Colorful stalls and makeshift stands offered a smorgasbord of delectable treats, each adding a distinct flavor to the festive atmosphere.

Sizzling on hot griddles and skewers, spiced meats released mouthwatering scents into the air. Tender cuts of dove, beef, and fish, marinated in an assortment of spices, were grilled to perfection, and served with a generous drizzle of flavorful sauces. Each cuisine uniquely distinct to the region of the kingdom where their preparer hailed from. Most notably to Link's liking the smoky fragrance of bacon wrapped sausages wafted through the crowd, almost enticing him to stop and savor the delicacy.

"Just look at this place, the Narrow Docks have never been more alive! There's a certain magic in the air today, don't you think?" Nudged Finn as they marched along streets that met the wooden planks of the port docks. Link only nodded, still consumed by all the buzzing around him. He's never seen the capital so full of people. It was almost to bursting.

Finn added. "Remember, today is about more than just the celebration. It's a test of your mettle at the first trial, and dedication to our kingdom and our people. Stay focused, and you'll make a fine Guardsman."

Yes-sir." Link replied.

"And keep up. Don't make eye contact with anyone. Once one of these hagglers has you in his sights it could be hours before he will let you go without closing up shop." Finn remarked sternly. Link marveled at the speed with which Finn moved, despite his chronic, war-inflicted leg injury. His gait was somewhat peculiar, almost resembling a peg-legged stride, though both his feet were intact. The source of the pain from what he was told lay in the nerves of his knees and shins, a lingering reminder of the battles he had faced back during the Rivercross rebellion.

The bustling marketplace of Hyrule Castle Town also showcased a diverse array of merchants, each hailing from various corners of the kingdom, proudly presenting their unique wares.

First he saw the towering, sun-kissed-skinned Gerudo women, dressed in their vibrant silks adorned with golden jewelry, displayed an impressive selection of desert goods. Intricately woven carpets and tapestries, bearing the beautiful patterns of their homeland, hung alongside exotic spices and dried fruits, packed in colorful pouches that promised a taste of the desert's sun and warmth.

Nearby, the powerful and robust Gorons alongside men from the Stonelands displayed an array of precious stones and jewelry, glittering in the sunlight. Their skilled hands had expertly crafted magnificent rings, necklaces, and bracelets from the finest gems found within the depths of their volcanic mountains. The Goron merchants also offered weapons and tools forged from their signature metalwork, each piece reflecting the strength and craftsmanship of their people.

The elegant Zora, with their shimmering scales and graceful movements, showcased a variety of ointments, creams, and healing potions. Made from rare aquatic plants and minerals found in their watery domain, these products were renowned for their soothing and restorative properties. Shimmering vials and jars lined their stalls, enticing passersby with the promise of rejuvenation and well-being.

Fishermen from Lurelin Village displayed their day's catch, offering a plethora of fresh fish brimming over in wooden barrels ferried from the south. From the smallest, most delicate silver-scaled fish to the largest, most robust deep-sea dwellers, their offerings represented the bountiful harvest of Hyrule's coastal waters. The salty scent of the sea permeated the air around their stall, transporting customers to the gentle waves of the ocean shores.

The vibrant marketplace of Hyrule Castle Town served as a melting pot of cultures and traditions, as merchants from every corner of the kingdom gathered especially on this day to share their unique goods and skills. As they continued through the bustling dock, the cacophony of haggling merchants and boisterous laughter surrounded them. Each stall was a testament to the richness of cultures that resided in Hyrule, and the festival atmosphere was further enhanced by the harmonious blend of commerce and entertainment.

Finally, they arrived at a small shop displaying an array of potions and other strange oddities in delicate glass vials. This was to be their destination.

A Hylian man from under a covered canopy rushed out to greet them. A slender wiry middle aged man who peculiarly also sported a pot belly. He had a small unkempt beard at the sides of his cheeks accompanied by a queer smile with a distracting gold tooth among his array of teeth. Truly a common man and salesman. As he approached Link's commander he didn't pay to much attention to their exchange.

Finn called out to the merchant. "Hello Morshu, you have what I came for? I've been expecting it." He said swiftly, dispensing with pleasantries and getting straight to the point.

"Why yes, of course, It's right here. Swell morning, isn't it?" The man said, clasping his hands together and rubbing them eagerly to make a profit.

"Ah yes..." Finn dismissed the small talk and continued. "Well, we're in a hurry, so if you don't mind, please fetch me the supplies I ordered special and we'll be out of your hair. I have a busy day ahead of me and I don't have time to squawk here down by the fish with you."

When the man revealed the wrapped-up items in a red silk cloth they continued to haggle price back and forth . All the while Link paid no mind. Whatever business Finn had he could handle well enough on his own. Besides even if he wanted to he was distracted. He couldn't help but be captivated by the magnificent sight mere feet away from them at the docks. Tied to one of the main piers was an opulent ship.

The grand vessel stretched out over the water, its elegant curves and ornate design announcing almost a regal purpose. It was no mere boat and whoever was the owner spared no expense. This ship had to been made to befit royalty or nobility, he guessed. With gleaming gold trimmings and intricate carvings adorning the hull, showcasing scenes of Hyrule's rich history and legendary figures. One as such was a carved eagle's beak at the bow with gold talons at the rear and paintings of abstract feathers on the front of its sides to act as wings over the waters. The barge's sail was a brilliant white, emblazoned with the royal crest of the kingdom.

Link had never before laid eyes on such a grand ship, and he could hardly contain his awe and fascination. He imagined what it would be like to walk its polished wooden decks, feel the craftsmanship beneath his feet, and explore the lavish, well-appointed cabins below. More than that, a means to adventure the world.

From their vantage point near the merchant stand, Link and Finn could observe the ship's crew making final preparations for its maiden voyage. The anticipation in the air was palpable, as the townspeople caught glimpses of the splendid ship, whispering excitedly about it's impending purpose that was up until now a mystery to Link. The grand pleasure boat seemed to embody a sense of adventure and the promise of unforgettable experiences, making Link almost yearn to be a part of such a momentous expedition. Though he knew his place would never allow him to do so. But the spectacle alone was enough.

"Sir Finn, what is that large ship there?" Popped the question from the young fledgling. He just had to know.

"Oh, you don't know?" Finn replied, pulling away from his bartering and selling with the salesman. "That my lad is to be the Princess's own pleasure barge. It's a gift to her to commemorate her ascension. She is to venture the entire kingdom afterwards upstream the river and visit those who couldn't make the pilgrimage here. Even go so far as all the northern territories of the land and even to the open sea."

"The princess, huh..." Link whispered under his breath to himself. "She must be truly something special."

The merchant added. "Yes, exactly right! This vessel was built to allow the princess to embark on a grand tour of the entire kingdom once she becomes heir to the goddess. Oh and what comfort and luxury she will sail with if the winds are kind."

"But I'm amazed they could have completed the build so soon," Finn said, cupping his chin, also to gander at the massive ship. "Just a week or so ago, it was hardly half done. That was fast."

"Well, we're pretty quick here down by the narrow docks!" Morshu remarked jovially, attempting to slyly switch a counterweight to the scales he had for his weights and measures. All in hopes of increasing the price of the sale when Finn turned back around.

"Not quick enough...I'm afraid," Finn responded icily, instantly catching the deception as if he possessed a sixth sense. He gripped the man's wrist tightly, forcing him to drop the trick weight on the table and twisted his arm, making the man kneel and whimper in pain.

Link was astonished at how swiftly Finn, a man in his later years in service to the guard could've so easily apprehended the man who tried to swindle him. He had been too captivated to notice himself by the sight of the magnificent ship anchored at the main dock, its decks bustling with activity. Yet, Finn saw.

The man yelped, "Forgive me, my good sir, you wouldn't break the wrist of a flute player before his big debut...would you?" he coughed.

"Really, now? Since when?"

"Honest to the goddess, I swear. Ask Nazem, my nephew; he'll tell you. Please, I'm to play tonight at the Giggling Pony pavilion. Perhaps, if I'm good enough, even for Her Majesty later on during the festival... Please...spare me. I beg you."

Finn released his grip, pushing him away, and said, "Very well, but don't let me catch you again, understand?"

"Y-yes, sir, apologies. It won't happen I promise."

"And here I thought we were friends; how long have we've been doing business?" Finn remarked, wearing a gotcha' grin.

"We are, Sir..."

"If we're old pals then I'd hate to see what you do to your enemies..."

"Forgive me. It'll be like it never happened." The man bowed and was about to turn away.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" asked Finn, his eyes still icy.

"Hmm?" The man blinked, appearing confused.

"My wares..." Finn leaned on the display stand, fists planted firmly, while Link watched over his shoulder, waiting to see what would happen next. Would Finn punish the man, or would he truly let him go? In a moment, he would find out. "And I trust we can skip the payment for today. Call it a favor from me to you to forget this whole ordeal, alright?"

"Y—yes, sir, of course !" The man bowed humbly and fetched the prized goods, handing them over for free. "Now, this one is made special from Madame Moon herself. She made it very clear to me to tell you that it is only effective if drunk within the week—"

"-Yes, yes, I know, just give it here already." Finn said agitatedly, almost as if he didn't want Link to know what he had.

Finn swiftly and nonchalantly stashed them away under his cloak. Link caught only a fleeting glimpse of a vial containing a peculiar brew of some kind. He wondered why this would be important now, and on this day of all days. Unbeknownst to Link, this potion could play a crucial role in the next three days. Perhaps, even the trials themselves. After all, Finn was privy to all the tests that were to be had for the pledges.

"Come, we're going." The veteran warrior nudged, turning back toward the road. "Onward to the castle lad."

Link nodded and followed suit behind him, weaving in and out of crowds leaving the docks. They would be at the castle in no time.

As the morning sun climbed higher in the sky, Zelda had returned to her wing of the castle, bathed, savored a sumptuous breakfast, and now donned an exquisite dress. This breathtaking garment was the result of her maids' tireless dedication and skilled craftsmanship. In fact, there would be four such dresses in total, each boasting a distinct color and style to be worn on a separate day, symbolizing a unique virtue to be bestowed upon her. The culmination of these virtues would be represented in a final dress, embodying their harmonious unification and a symbol to the realm that all would be well in her hands.

This particular morning, Zelda's ladies in waiting had requested her to try on the most resplendent of them all - the pristine white dress. The other three dresses, the scarlett fire, the blue waterdrop, and the green leaf forest, equally stunning but patiently awaiting their turn, would have to bide their time for now. As Zelda moved gracefully in her radiant attire, the anticipation and excitement for the coming jubilee ahead swelled within her.

"You look absolutely stunning, Little Bird," Urbosa remarked warmly, her eyes twinkling with admiration. "These next three days will create memories that will last a lifetime."

"I hope you're right..." Zelda whispered as she watched herself in the mirror.

"You'll do great, just you wait and see. When the time comes something inside you will just awaken, just like it did with your mother. May her memory forgive me but I think it could be possible that you wear that dress better than she did. From what I can remember."

Zelda managed a grateful smile in return, but her excitement for the news from her friends outweighed her desire to bask in the beauty of the dress. The ambassador from Hytopia had just departed, and the two Sheikah leaders, Impa and Purah, had returned from a long journey up north. They brought with them an astounding discovery—the Sheikah Slate. Zelda's curiosity soared as she cradled the powerful artifact in her hands, marveling at its potential.

"Princess, this device has the power to reshape our world," Purah explained, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. "It may even prove instrumental in our fight against Calamity Ganon. I believe what we've discovered so far is but a drop of water from Lake Hylia compared to what else awaits us."

Zelda sighed wistfully. "I sure hope my father really does grant me leave of the city after the festival. You mentioned that the new fledglings who conquer the trials will become Guardsmen in just three days. If I am to have a royal guard with me at all times, surely he will let me venture beyond these walls if they come along. Won't he? I mean, surely the massive barge I'll have will do fine for the voyage north and can transport all of us."

Urbosa just listened and cupped her chin as the others stewed too.

Zelda continued her desires. "Oh, how I long to see the ancient ruins of the Stonelands with my own eyes. To be able to find discoveries of my own. I mean, what difference is it venturing off the boat for a little while for some mountain views?" Zelda said, feigning nonchalance at the idea. "That shouldn't be too far out of the question."

Impa placed a reassuring hand on Zelda's shoulder. "I will speak with the king on your behalf. I'll ensure him that not only will you have your own guards, but I'll be by your side as well." Impa grinned, brandishing her partially unsheathed blade with pride.

Purah teased, "Oh, I bet they're just quaking in their boots now! Behold, Impa the fearsome warrior has arrived. She'll vanquish those Yiga savages singlehandedly!"

Impa's eyes narrowed as the laughter from her sister died down. "Pay her no mind, Princess. She's just upset that when we go, Robbie will be joining us as well."

"Robbie is coming too? That would be splendid!" Zelda perked up. "It's been ages since I've seen him. He's quite the—"

"—Quite the character, you mean!" Purah interjected, rolling her eyes. "Him and his outlandish ideas. Sheesh! Don't get me started."

Zelda defended him gently, "He may be eccentric, but I find that aspect of him rather charming. Don't you agree?"

Purah hopped off a ledge of furniture near the royal bath fountain and shrugged dismissively. Zelda continued, "A brilliant mind often comes with a touch of quirkiness, I believe."

Purah nudged Zelda playfully, "You're quite quirky yourself, Princess, if I may say so."

Zelda smiled and insisted, "I'm serious. You and Robbie would make quite—"

"Don't even say it," Purah interjected, cutting her off.

"But I—"

"Not another—"

As the conversation unfolded, the Sheikah Slate suddenly illuminated blue in Zelda's hands, distracting her from her words. She nearly forgot she still held onto it. For being stone made ins strength it was light as a purse. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she spun around to show her friends. "What do you suppose it's doing?"

Impa, Purah, and Urbosa leaned in to observe the device. Purah spoke first, puzzled. "I have no idea. That's strange; I thought we shut it down earlier."

In her exhilaration, surrounded by her friends and the mysteries of the Sheikah Slate, Zelda inadvertently caught her exquisite gown on a piece of furniture and it was too late. A gasp filled the room at the sound of the delicate fabric stretching. Her dress which painstakingly handcrafted by her devoted maids, now sported a three-inch tear. The maids' hearts sank at the sight of their labor of love damaged in an instant, their faces etched with distress. The gown would need immediate mending.

Zelda's heart ached at the sight of their disappointment, and she nearly fell to her knees. "Oh no, I'm so sorry," she murmured, her voice heavy with regret.

Urbosa stepped forward, her warm voice reassuring both Zelda and the maids. "Fear not, Little Bird. Accidents happen. Your talented ladies will have your gown mended in no time, and you'll be as stunning as ever."

As Zelda's friends rallied around her, offering support and understanding, she felt a renewed sense of gratitude for their presence. Their camaraderie and the promise of future discoveries with the Sheikah Slate filled her with determination to make the most of the upcoming festival and the adventures that lay beyond.

But, with no time to repair the delicate fabric while she stood, she reluctantly changed back into her usual princess attire. The softness of her adventuring clothes rustled gently as she moved into it, and the warm sunlight filtered through the windows of the pool, casting a golden glow on the ripples of the water. After she did so, another messenger arrived at her door, summoning her to the front of the castle. Zelda donned her royal cloak.

"Princess, a pair of soldiers are here to escort you to the bailey where they are handling the crowning gift for your ascension," the messenger informed her.

"Oh, yeah, I nearly forgot. Well, I'm sure glad I changed. There was no way I was going to venture out and about wearing the ceremonial dress. Especially, not into the city either."

"The city?" Urbosa remarked suspiciously.

"Shh, my father doesn't know." The princess said, a finger up to her lips all the while wearing a smirk.

"Gee, I don't know princess," chimed Impa. "Today is quite important for you to get lost. And if something were to happen—"

"-It'll be fine. And besides, I'll have my guards."

"Do they know what you're planning?" Urbosa leaned.

"No, but they will..." Zelda blinked and made a gesture of praying with her clasped hands. "Please?"

"Okay then, little bird but don't be late returning. I'll see what we can do here to distract the dignitaries and your father of your absence."

"Thank you! You're the best." Zelda said, hugging the three of them before spinning back to face the messenger. "Oh, and you sir, please see to it if you can have that crate there taken below to the courtyard near the postern gate," the princess added, pointing the well adorned trunk the ambassador of Hytopia laid at her feet minutes earlier.

"What are you planning on doing?" Impa asked.

"Well, like I said there's no need for me to have such lavish garments when so many others are in need of them. They will far better serve my people than they could ever do me."

"You truly are a sweet girl, princess. Your mother would be proud of the young lady you've become."

Zelda smiled and with that made her way down to the entrance of the castle below.

When Zelda arrived at the front of the castle, she found a young soldier waiting for her, dressed in a royal guardsman uniform. His face was hidden beneath the helm, adding an air of mystery to his demeanor. The commander beside him approached Zelda along with the young soldier, speaking first.

"Good morning, Your Highness, I am—"

"I know who you are, Sir Finn. I've seen you around the castle since I was a little girl," she said, smiling. "Though, I must confess I haven't seen you before with this soldier. He is not your usual apprentice." Zelda leaned, eyeing the mystery soldier from head to boot.

"No, he isn't, you're perceptive, Your Highness."

"Well, somebody has to be." She beamed back.

"He will be filling in for my Underwing for today. Mine is currently ill, and this young man is eager. He has proven himself quite well among the lower ranks of the Guard and will serve capably today for the task at hand." Finn's eyes darted to the side, as if he were trying to hide a secret. It was as if he was late for a meeting but was afraid to mention what or where.

Zelda noticed Finn's behavior and furrowed her brow, though still a sweetness in her voice. "Finn, is there something else going on? You seem a bit...distracted."

"Oh, everything is fine." Finn hesitated for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching, as if he was fighting the urge to reveal something. "Ah, Your Highness, it's just... some unexpected issues have arisen within the castle that require my attention. Nothing to worry about, I assure you."

Zelda sensed the unease in Finn's voice but decided to let the matter rest. "Very well, Finn. I trust that you'll take care of whatever it is."

Finn then turned to Zelda, "Princess, I apologize for the short notice of absence today, but I must attend to an urgent matter that has come to mind. This young soldier here will lead you to Castle Gates and unload the crowning gift of this week's ceremony," he said, gesturing to the mysterious guardsman.

Link, although perplexed by Finn's sudden departure, sensed that something was off. He watched as Finn hastily retreated, leaving him alone with the princess. The curiosity within him grew, but he knew that he had a job to do, and he would focus on ensuring Zelda's safety for now.

Zelda couldn't help but guess why he left so suddenly. "Well, I wonder what had him in such a hurry? A lady who works the grounds perhaps?"

Link remained a statue until she eventually shrugged it off and turned to face him.

"Well, let's get going, shall we?" she beamed at him.

As they walked together through the castle's grand corridors, their footsteps echoing on the marble floors, Zelda couldn't help but be intrigued by the soldier's silence. They were on their way to the other entrance of the Castle grounds. Is he going to say something or just walk along mute like an Iron knuckle all day? Gee, I hope not, this will get boring fast. Zelda glance up at him trying to spur delightful conversation, but his face was half covered by a royal soldier helm, so no avail. Ugh, I guess it's going to have to be me.

"You know, you don't have to be so quiet," she teased, trying to break the ice, her voice a mix of warmth and curiosity.

The young soldier hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Apologies, Your Highness. I'm just... focused on my duty, I suppose."

Zelda smiled and chuckled softly, the sound like a melodious chime in the air. "C'mon, relax. Your commander is gone. And besides, you really think that disguise is clever?"

How can she know, Link thought, feeling his heart race. This disguise is perfect!

Zelda giggled. "It's alright, don't worry. I'm not here to tattle on you. So as long as... You don't tattle on me?

"Tattle?" Link asked, his eyes widening beneath the helm.

"Yes! I'm trying to get out of here, or haven't you noticed? I have some personal things I'd like to see done myself and I'm in need of an escort who won't tell my father or anyone else. And you look just like the sort of man that can help me on this sort of quest. Are you up for it? I promise, if you do so, I will make it worth your while." Zelda's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned closer to Link, her fingers playfully tapping on the hilt of his sword.

"Uh, I, um..." Link stammered, feeling the warmth of her presence and the sweet scent of her perfume. He's never tasted the enticing scent of a young lady so up close before. It was unlike anything he could have imagined, being raised a commoner and all. Girls from where he lived didn't have the luxury of fragrant oils and pampered hair. Link quite enjoyed this encounter so far.

Her lingering air around him was divine. In fact, the only time he's ever been around the pleasing aroma of perfume was when he lived back in Zora's Domain. There many years ago he met another princess, one he grew quite fond of as a child. But it's been quite some time since then. And this girl was different.

The princess softly bumped his elbow, awaking him from his daydream. "Please... I will keep your secret," Zelda promised, her voice soft and persuasive.

"M-my secret?" Link's heart pounded in his chest.

"Yes, you know what I'm talking about," she said, stepping behind him, wearing a mischievous grin.

"I—I do?" Link said nonchalantly, feigning ignorance all the while his nerves betraying him.

"C'mon, you know what I'm talking about!" Zelda insisted, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Link took a deep breath, steadying himself. "No, honest. I'm just a soldier."

"Sure, if you say so." Zelda's small laughter filled the air once more. "Look, I appreciate your dedication to your duty, truly, but it would do you better to at least take that bucket off your head once we're clear of here so I can get a better look at who this imposter soldier is that I will be spending my morning with."

"But, I am not an imposter, I am a soldier. I'm just not a Guards—"

"—Aha! So I'm right," Zelda giggled again. "Oh, c'mon take that bucket off already! It's okay, you're with me! I promise I won't bite."

"Umm, I...I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I can't do that." Link reaffirmed himself, standing up straight and firm. Trying to find any logical excuse he could, though he knew they all fell flat. But it was worth the try. "A soldier must always be ready for duty and that means, battle."

"A battle? Really? Here in the city? On this day of all days? Good Goddess, do tell...I didn't know we were at war already?" Zelda teased, her eyes twinkling with delight.

"Well, you never know," Link replied, trying to maintain his composure.

Zelda playfully nudged his arm. "Oh, c'mon, you don't expect me to really believe that silly excuse. I know what it is you fear. You don't want anyone to see you-because you're not a Royal Guardsman. I can always tell. There's only so many of them roaming the castle grounds and after you've been locked away in here day after day like I've been, you start to memorize their faces and their demeanors. Besides, there's only a few hundred remaining in all the realm in fact.

Link gulped at her summation.

"But, I don't care about any of that, you seem gentle enough and if you were some villain I'd be taken in by now so I know you're intentions are pure. But, What I can't guess is, why the deception? So, why don't you just remove your helmet already?

Link paused and held firm.

Zelda stepped lightly toward him and playfully bit her lip. "You know, I am the princess? I could just command you to remove your helm right now."

Link gulped as her breathing became closer toward him. "Or better yet, I can call the guards and have them throw you into the dungeon this very instant for disobeying your sovereign's orders. Would you prefer that?"

"Please don't." Link's voice wavered. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, so now you presume to know what I would or would not do now, eh? I see...Hmmm, and why shouldn't I?" Zelda raised an eyebrow, her voice lilting with amusement.

"Because I'm—Okay, okay, I would rather if you not, my liege, but if it is your command, I will obey and take off my helm." Link knelt down in a worry but before he could remove his garb, Zelda giggled.

"Rise! I'm only kidding. What sort of girl do you think I am?"

Link lifted his head slowly. "Um, a princess?"

"Well, that is true, but I would never force you to do something against your will. I'm not fond of tyrants, petty or otherwise. Please, it's fine that you wear if you so insist and you don't have to reveal yourself. I don't want you upset, especially if we are to be friends now," Zelda shook her head, still wearing a grin.

"F-friends?"

"Well, of course, what else would you call two people keeping each other's secrets?"

Link blinked under his helm and Zelda whispered to herself out of earshot from him. "Though you do sound kind of cute when you're upset..."

"What did you say?" Link asked, his cheeks flushing beneath the helmet. Unsure if he heard what she said.

"Nothing, never mind!" Zelda waved her hand dismissively, but her eyes held a teasing glint.

Link looked at her, confused, as he rearranged his helmet to a snug fit. The visor covered half of his face, and all she could see was the outline of his attractive chin. She knew he had to be handsome by his voice and the way he carried himself. And even though he had some light armor on, many parts revealed the shape of his body under the soft fabric or the parts that had none at all.

In fact, the only metallic plates he had were his breastplate, grieves, pauldrons and elbow guards. The rest were all tightly fit garb which hugged him nicely. But what intrigued her most of all was that he had a quiet confidence about him, a commanding stride though he still behaved humbly. The mystery of who he was made it all the more exciting.

The princess reiterated with a sparkle in her eye. "You don't need to worry yourself and take it off if it frightens you that much."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Link bowed.

"But, so long as that silliness stops this instant. That I do decree," Zelda smiled, her playful nature shining through. "There's no need to be so formal," she said, gently helping him back up to stand. "We're simply fetching a gift out by the castle gate, after all, and doing some other things."

"Other things?"

"Yeah, you will see! Patience my fierce protector." Zelda stepped forward and clasped her hands together, all the while still wearing that mischievous grin. Link's heart drummed. "So, tell me, what's your name? That you can at least do me a kindness." They began to waltz in a walk toward the loading bays of the courtyard.

The soldier hesitated, unsure if the truth would be best even if she was being playful. Zelda leaned in closer and fluttered her eyes, and he took the opportunity to swiftly reply with a hint of humor, "My name is... um, Sir Helmsworth, Your Highness. That's it, Sir Helmsworth."

"Uh, huh?" Zelda couldn't help but giggle at the obviously made-up name. "Sir Helmsworth? Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Sir."

As they walked, she couldn't help her gaze from roaming to gander Link's well-toned arms that shone through the royal guardsman tunic, appreciating his strong posture. She felt a warm blush spread across her cheeks as she realized that she was quite attracted to this young, mysterious soldier. The first time ever for a boy now that she was getting older. She couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath that helmet even more. But, a deal was a deal, so no unmasking.

Link, on the other hand, found himself captivated by Zelda's vibrant eyes and the way her laughter filled the air when he made small japes to make her laugh when he loaded up their carriage for departure. He was normally shy around girls, but he quickly found himself filled with courage. Perhaps, it was the helm that did the trick. Whatever the charm was, he was grateful for it.

It was difficult for him to focus on his duty, as his mind kept wandering to the thought of what it would be like to know this enchanting princess on a more personal level. Their instant, yet simple anonymous connection between them was undeniable, and he hoped that, perhaps, after today they would have the chance to explore it further.

Authors notes: Hello everyone, I sure hope you do enjoy this one. Much more to come, but it will be after a short hiatus( I need to play tears of the kingdom and I'm sure you all do too) But, don't worry, the story WILL be completed and I should return before June. Please, do me a huge favor if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, it helps me tremendously to get exposure for the fic now that its numbers have reset. Thank you so much, and as always, stay well wherever you are in Hyrule and until we meet again on our travels- Sir Link

Chapter Text

Authors notes: I'm sorry for the delay everyone. Me and my girlfriend of several years broke up and I was in an emotional rut. I'm slowly getting out of it now, and not to mention, with the release of tears of the kingdom, I've been occupied with that. (boy do I have thoughts on that game. Story was a mess for me but the gameplay I loved and of course the characters. And yes, the zelink, i can always use more zelink in my life.) My apologies. However, this one was a joy to write and I hope you enjoy it. Please, if you could be so kind, leave your thoughts. It helps my story grow. 

Chapter

Why we failed one-hundred years ago

Part 4

High Noon of the first day

The carriage was loaded with an assortment of goods hauled down from Zelda's quarters - a task that had consumed the better part of ten minutes for Link. Not that he minded, his whole life had been devoted to busying himself with duties, so what did an extra ten minutes matter. Besides, today would not be like any other and if he could do anything to distract from the nervous rumbling in his belly, all the better. They were now ready to embark.

"I only need but a moment before we depart. It won't take long, I promise," Zelda said, her fingers pinching the air for him to 'wait'. She quickly strolled over to another who was rushing down a flight of the castle's stone steps leading into the bustling courtyard. Along came Adeline, Zelda's good friend and handmaiden.

"Here you are, Princess, as per your request. I hope it's to your liking." the lady greeted, handing Zelda a folded-up gift, wrapped in delicate, velvet tissue paper. The girl's smile radiated enthusiasm, giddy for the princess's excursion.

"Thanks! It's perfect!" Zelda hopped.

While Link was busily securing the last of their supplies in the back of the carriage, he couldn't help but catch fleeting glimpses at the excitable princess from the corner of his eye. Her infectious enthusiasm had left him mildly perplexed. The task of maneuvering the sizable crates from one wagon to the next, earlier that morning under the command of a handful of soldiers, had been a physically demanding endeavor. However, her vivacious spirit seemed to counterbalance the day's strenuous activities, leaving a mystifying air of exhilaration in its wake.

Also, The subsequent discussion between Zelda and Adeline, took place out of earshot, but their soft giggles and giddy smiles perked his ears as he worked, and when he looked over, he saw them both stealing glances at him only to look away conspiratorially when he did. Their chirps struck a nerve of nervousness within him it but also piqued his curiosity. With the loading done he cleared his throat and decided to voice his queries, stepping up beside them, ready to depart.

"Pardon my interruption, your highness but I've been wondering about the cargo we loaded onto the festival wagons," Link asked, drawing Zelda's attention back to him. "That massive one covered with a tarp... What is it? It's huge."

Zelda's eyes brightened as she realized she'd left Link unattended to for quite some time and that the loading had been long done. An unexpected blush dusted her cheeks as she felt embarrassed for having him wait. Not to mention, the excitement for her tour of town was a rare treat indeed. Not every day was she afforded an opportunity to go on such an exciting venture. At least, not without having to be surrounded by a small army, unable visit her denizens freely, that is. Today was different though. Today she had a plan. Today she would be escorted by a soldier who was around her age and not some old grumpy goat who had the personality of a wet mop.

"Actually, I was going to ask you the same question," she admitted, regaining her composure. "I'm unsure about it myself. My uncle had this one delivered special. It's a gift, he says. For my birthday and for the coming celebration. Though truth be told, they are being quite secretive about it."

Realizing that Link had no idea who she was referring to, her face lit up and she explained. "Purah and my uncle, that is."

Link still had no idea who she was referring too so she had to clarify further. "Purah is a lady of my court and one of my closest friends. And my uncle, well, I'm sure you've heard tales of him before, Prince Arcturus?"

Link gently nodded where he stood, the recollection of her esteemed lord uncle from the north coming back to memory. The falcon prince they called him. Lands between Bountiful and the Stonelands upon the dying mountain range was where he reigned. He guarded the borders there which were known as Queen's Lands and acted as lord count of that area as well. A man of many titles.

Zelda continued as he pondered listening. "They must be in cahoots together keeping this massive thing a secret from me. And no matter how much I prod them, neither will budge and tell me what they brought."

Link turned to face her quizzically and she let out a sigh. "And so, I leave it at that. I'll let them keep their surprises. And a promise is a promise."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh," Zelda said, rubbing her arm. "I told them I won't sneak a peek of it without them knowing and I will wait patiently to behold it until the ascension."

The princess's swiveled to face him. "But, that being said. What about you?"

"Me?" Link gulped.

"Yeah. Surely, you must know what it is and was just testing me. Perhaps, to report back to your master Finn so he can tell to on me to my uncle? Hmm?" she said leaning into Link forcing him to take a step back nervously. Her eyes captivating him all the while wearing a tantalizing expression that made his heart thump.

"Well, you, being a soldier, and with the way you all must talk amongst yourselves, maybe you might have an idea as to what they are hiding? It was your fellow troops that brought it in, after all. Hmm?" she moved closer, diminishing the gap between them. It was then that Adeline deliberately coughed to dissipate the thickening tension, reminding the duo of her presence, leading Zelda to step back respectfully.

Blinking beneath his helmet, Link found himself surprised by her image of soldiers. She thinks we just...stand around and gossip like the ladies from her court do? Link cleared his throat and spoke up. "Actually, no, your majesty, he hasn't told me a thing, I'm afraid. That' why I asked you. Honest to goddess."

"Hmm, I see. Well, you don't strike me as a liar. So, I guess you must be telling me the truth. Darn…" Zelda conceded, continuing. "Your master, Finn, he knows what it is. Surely, he does. Strange that he hasn't told you."

Link's brows raised under his helm. He wanted to tell her that Finn wasn't his master nor was he his underwing but that would be give away his secret.

She continued. "In fact, his arrival this morning was because he was supposed to inspect it for something or another, or so I've been told. But now it seems he ran off in a hurry... I wonder where to?" The princess stood thoughtfully, cupping her chin as she assessed the mysterious, covered cargo atop the elongated wagon in front of her.

The three of them turned to gaze once more at the ginormous, tarped contraption cradled atop a float that would be wheeled off during the main parade of the celebration. It was quite the curiosity. But, Zelda shook her head of the questions and spoke. "Well, I'm sure he will get around to it."

"Hmm..." Link mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Well, in that case, should we be on our way, your majesty?"

"I told you, none of that remember. Today I'm only Zelda. Not your majesty, Princess, or any other high title….and you're Helmsworth," she corrected, a giggle escaping her lips. "Yes, we can depart in just a second."

Zelda spun back around exchanging her final words with Adeline, before the girl retreated back to the confines of the castle. Link stepped towards her.

"Now, there's just one last thing left to do. Almost there…" Zelda whirled away while Link curiously leaned over her shoulder to try and get a better look as to what she was doing before she abruptly twirled back to face him, startling him to trip over himself like a klutz. Link was anything but clumsy, but this girl had a strange magical wonder about her, or so it seemed. He's never been in the presence of royalty, nor that of high borne, Hylian ladies for that matter. She brought a nervousness to him that made his body act a fool.

Get a grip of yourself you lackwit. Is this how you intend to spend your day with her? You only have one chance to ever talk to this girl. Don't screw it up. Link secretly forced his body into compliance.

"See, I can just go wearing this!" She declared gleefully, watching him steady himself from a near tumble. "There we are! Observe!" Zelda announced with an air of finality. She swung her arms wide, revealing a cloak of vibrant red that when the hood lowered bounced behind her pointy ears. Her grin was the picture of youthful mischief - one about to abscond with a jar of forbidden sweets from the castle kitchens.

Link rubbed his chin skeptically. "You really think that's going to fool anyone?"

"Of course, whyever wouldn't it?" she countered, arching an eyebrow in question.

"Because you're the princess," he explained. "A simple hood isn't going to work as a disguise, that's why."

"Oh, yeah? Just like how your disguise works?" she teased back, eyeing the bucket on his head. It was a royal guardsmen's half-helm that sported a protective visor that concealed half his face, only exposing his chin and a glimpse of his grin.

She had him dead to rights with that. It stung his pride but he would never admit showing her how much. With a light chuckle, he conceded. "Yeah, but I'm a soldier. I'm not important. Just take one look at what you're wearing. Nobody I know of dresses like that—"

"-That you know of?" she said, cutting him off. "Are you," she hesitated to study him. "Are you a…commoner?"

Her interest piqued but Link couldn't tell in the moment, so he dispelled her questions with a swift answer; thinking it best not to disclose that part about him. What would she think? he wrestled in his thoughts. If I'm a commoner, she may not want to speak with me ever again. Best I keep my mouth shut on that and change the subject.

"-What I mean is, the people where you want to visit-at least that part of town don't dress the way you do."

"What's the matter with the way I'm dressed? You don't approve?" Zelda asked coyly before evaluating her own dress from top to bottom, back and front before blinking curiously at him.

In the bustling warmth of the summer, Zelda chose attire that beautifully balanced the duality of her status - a simple disguise fit for a princess on an adventure.

Dressed in a light, sleeveless tunic of soft linen. It cinched at her slender waist, defining the graceful contour of her hips. The bodice clung tenderly to her form, highlighting her delicate curves while not revealing too much. The color was a brilliant but a modest royal blue, subtly complementing the radiance of her golden hair. Its fabric, embroidered with unassuming, intricate patterns in the fashion of low nobility, spoke of a simple elegance with subtlety.

She wore a pair of form-fitting, white capri pants that stopped just below her knees, showing off the shape of her legs and giving her easy movement in the summer breeze. They were of a material that appeared commonplace but still carried an understated quality, finely spun with threads of silver to give a faint shimmer in the sunlight. Around her waist, she had a slim, tan leather belt that further accentuated her eye-catching figure. Hanging off the belt was a small satchel, both functional and fashionable, giving her a place to carry any small necessities while adding to her disguise.

To complete the ensemble, Zelda had opted for a pair of calf-high, tan leather boots. Although they were softer and lighter than typical Hylian boots, they were perfect for an adventurous day in town. The soles were not the standard thick, utilitarian soles of commoner's boots but were rather slimmer and more elegant, providing the necessary comfort for hours of walking. Adorning the boots were delicate straps crisscrossing up from the ankles to the tops, lending an interesting visual texture and a flirtatious charm to her overall outfit. At last, the boots were subtly adorned with small, silver Hylian motifs, a nod to her noble heritage cleverly hidden in plain sight.

"You don't think I look…good?" she asked again, playfully.

"That's not what I mean," the poor boy began to stammer as Zelda whirled around, entertaining him a full view of her figure to marvel at. The cloak whipped around in a brushstroke of color, adding to the elegance of her silhouette against the attire that hugged her lush shape perfectly. Link felt hot blood rush up his temples and he tried to step back to maintain a courteous distance. What is happening to me?

"Well?" She pressed, closing the gap between them for an appraisal. But Link, caught off guard, found himself dumbstruck. His thoughts raced, but his lips failed to articulate any words. Finally, he regained some composure, clearing his throat as Zelda watched him with dancing emerald eyes. On the verge of rising to her tiptoes for a peek beneath his helmet to see him true, she halted as he managed to force the words out in the nick of time. "You look...great... Excuse me." He said, his red cheeks hidden under his helm dissipating as he swallowed a breath of much needed air.

The princess took a step back. "Well, then it's settled. I should be okay," she clarified. "But, if you are still worried, perhaps this next idea I have may settle your fears. Today, I will be a handmaiden to her majesty. After all, my ladies often dress similar to what I'm wearing right now," Zelda quipped, her confidence in the plan unwavering. "See, now there's nothing to fret about my good sir."

"A lady in waiting?" Link questioned skeptically. He leaned back and firmly planted his hand on his sword hilt and pondered the notion aloud, tapping the pommel with his fingers. "What maid has an armed escort from the Castle? I don't know, I never heard of one traveling with such…protection. Not royal guards at least."

"Shh, don't worry it will absolutely work." She cut him off jovially. "Besides, I often send my girls into town to run errands for me." That may have been a lie, but he didn't have to know. Of course, anything she would ever want for the castle had plenty of. There was never a need to send for errand girls.

"I have to these days. Father has strictly forbidden me to venture into the…" Zelda realized what she was about to say and hesitated to rub her arm in shy embarrassment. "…lesser quarters of the town." She had no other way of describing it without sounding disrespectful.

That's where I'm from. Link thought as a steady bead began to drip down his brow.

She explained, trying to clarify what she meant without garnering offense. She wasn't persnickety like other court ladies. Not in the slightest. In fact, she dreaded stuffy appointments with pompous lords and wished for nothing more than to escape the constant call of duty, tradition, and etiquette around nobility.

With a wave of her hands, Zelda elaborated, "My father maintains that it's unbecoming for a lady of my standing to frequent parts of town that could be breeding grounds for ruffians, or worse, hideouts for cut throats who may be lurking to capture me for hire. The Yiga have recently issued threats, and as a result, I am only allowed to roam within the confines of the nobility quarter. Apparently, there's quite a sizable bounty on my head."

"Really now?" Link responded, the edges of a jest curling his lips. An amused smirk unfolded across his face as he continued, "A sizable bounty, you say?"

Zelda lightly jabbed his elbow, a playful glint in her eyes. "I'm serious!"

"And so am I!" he bantered. Zelda's mouth nearly fell open, and she was about to jab him again when he added, "Serious about ensuring your safety, that is."

Shaking her head, the princess attempted to stifle her blush, then resumed her mild tirade about her father. "And he insists that I can only venture out during daylight hours. The noble districts are patrolled by men from the royal guard, you see. Men like you, in fact," she teased, stepping back to examine the modest carriage he had managed to arrange. "Young men with something... to prove." She let out a soft chuckle, swiveling back to face him.

Though she knew that if truth be told, the Royal Guard had anything but young men among their ranks. They were mostly made up of old, battle-hardened war veterans but that still didn't stop her in her jest. Link feigned to be unamused by her joke and stood still pretending not to care.

So, she cleared her throat in protest of him not budging with her explanation and smiled it off. "But look, I don't care what he says. I'm not afraid to see my own city. And now, especially with you by my side, I know I'll be safe." The princess lunged a step toward him, making it hard for him to say no.

She reached for his arm, and sweetly pulled on his iron cladded wrist guard. "Finn said you're quite the talented swordsman and it's just for a few hours anyway." Her eyes met him brightly, trying to coax him with all the power a lady could muster. "Then you can bring me back. I promise. C'mon, I know you want to," she pleaded, fluttering those delicate lashes of hers at him that somehow, he hated to admit already won his heart over. Granted, she was the first and only girl he ever had eyes for. He had only just met her, but even still, there was already a spark there. It wasn't just a silly boy's infatuation. Sure, it may have started out as such but now… now it was different. He couldn't explain it.

Sure, he had seen other pretty young ladies come and go before, he wasn't blind by no means, but none that he ever met were like her. There was something beyond her beauty. Something much more than that. An intangible magnetism that evoked a profundity of feeling he struggled to define. Today thus far proved as such. Just being around her invoked strange new feelings that came alive inside him for the first time in his life.

At first, it all began when he gazed upon her from afar in the training yard that day when he was practicing atop the barrels under the stern guidance of his father. In that sacred moment, by some dumb luck from the goddess herself, this jewel of a girl, this princess, met glances with him briefly and gave him and nobody else, a low-born boy from Scrapbottom, the time of day with a smile. All the while ignoring the shouting crowd that pursued her. And though she doesn't know it's him who she saw that afternoon, she soon will.

What sort of spell could I be under to abandon all reason for this girl, he thought, pondering her plea to venture into the city. If anything happens, it would be my neck that visits the headsman's block, not hers. The dungeons would be a mercy at that point.

Link squirmed for half a moment before letting out an exasperated breath of defeat. "Alright," he relented, waving his hand in explanation. "But, only on one condition….If we do this you are going to have to follow my lead and do things my way. None of that royal stuff where we are heading. If not, they will recognize you for sure. Deal?"

"Deal! Lead the way my gallant protector. Or shall I say, Sir-Helmsworth!" she quipped, flapping the hood over her hair with a playful wink of encouragement.

In ladylike fashion, she looped her arm through his, allowing him to guide her to the carriage. Once met, the disguised knight, in a chivalrous gesture, helped her up onto the padded, tan, leather-stitched seat which provided a splendid view of the castle gates and their imminent journey into town. Zelda offered him a gracious smile as he finished their arrangements. Once done, she softly patted the cushion beside her, signaling him to join her. After all, he was meant to be her coachman, and it wasn't practical to ride a royal palanquin into town as it would attract too much attention from the low folk. However, this humble carriage, more luxurious than most, led by a gentle, chestnut-colored mare named Eponair - a name meaning swift pony of the wind- would be a perfect fit.

As the two descended through the lively streets of Castle Town into the nobility district, they couldn't help but sneak glances at one another, each feeling a growing sense of attraction and curiosity. The ride was lighthearted and strangely enough, whatever Link's worries he had, evaporated in her smiles. The playful banter between them continued, occasionally bordering on flirtatious, as they exchanged teasing remarks and shared secretive glances.

At one point, Zelda mischievously fell into Link, pretending it was an accident when he got distracted by her. For a brief moment, he'd forgotten he was the driver.

"So, helmsworth, do you always sneak away girls against their father's orders into the city?" That was the last thing he heard before getting lost in her eyes. His world stood still but continued to pass him by. Suddenly he had to make an abrupt, evasive turn to avoid crashing into a vendor who's been selling fine ointments and linens in the square. The sudden jolt and veer around a bend naturally caused a shift in momentum. Zelda, however, may have exaggerated the effect just a tad, leaning into him with a dramatic flair. It was, perhaps, a calculated move to create another point of contact, a plausible theory considering her mischievous behavior.

Though as she done so, a voice inside her protested against her actions. What has gotten into you, Zelda? Calm yourself. This isn't like you. You're behaving childish and he is likely to think you are one if you don't stop. You're going to spoil it.

She couldn't help but giggle silently at herself and then even more so aloud when he feigned shock when her body leaned into his. Her sudden touch from bumping into him so close, electrified his senses. Link couldn't help but join her laughter, feeling a warmth in his chest that he hadn't experienced in a long time, if ever. They had made quite the commotion speeding through the square. Nobles and merchants alike had to dart out of the way moments earlier. Zelda's face brightened with amusement at the scandalized expressions of the high-born ladies who clutched their pearls, those that believed they deserved their own private lanes.

Recovering, Link yanked on the reins, bringing the carriage to a skidding halt. In between their shared laughter, he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, ensuring her safety. "Are you alright? I didn't mean for that to happen, the reins got away from me."

"Oh really? So, that is what happened?" She retorted; her voice laced with skepticism. "I see. So, it was this gentle mare's blunder, was it? I find that hard to believe." She attempted to suppress her giggles behind her hand. "More like the fault of a mad driver, I'd wager.''

Link teased back. "No, it was yours."

Zelda's mouth fell open, her lashes fluttering in disbelief at his audacity. "Oh, so it's my fault now! I see... So, that's the kind of day we're having, is it?" she struggled to hold back her smiles. She was determined not to let him savor the triumph too easily.

"Well, you did say you desired an exciting adventure," Link countered. "Here you are, Your Highness, a thrilling adventure, at your leisure!"

"I mentioned an adventure, not a death-defying feat!" she retorted, barely stifling her laughter.

"Death-defying? That was nothing. Just an ordinary Tuesday afternoon for me," Link confessed. "Don't they typically enjoy rides like this at the castle? I always drive this way."

"Always!?" Who is this boy? He is so daring. Isn't he worried we'll be caught? Or perhaps he is beyond worrying? I must find out who he is.

"But, if Her Majesty prefers a milder form of excitement, I am certainly capable of fulfilling her wishes."

"And I've told you, no more of that!" she reprimanded, jabbing him playfully with her elbow as he wrestled with the reins, which had slipped over the edge of the footboard. "Enough with the formalities." Zelda realized she may have overplayed her hand earlier and averted her gaze, hoping the sudden warmth flushing her skin would go unnoticed. Fortunately, he was preoccupied with steadying their course and calming the mare.

"You've certainly delivered on your promise of excitement so far," she said, her breath still hitched from the thrilling descent down the cobblestone street of the town square. "This has become quite the adventure and it's not even midday yet. If only all my subjects were as true to their word as you have been," she said, a soft chuckle escaping her lips, her hand elegantly covering her mouth in a display of royal modesty.

"Tell me…" she jested. "Are you sure you want to live to see the trials today? Or, is this some ill attempt to get out of the challenges that await you later? Your actions as of late protest your words, Sir-Helmsworth," she said with a snark at the end, making fun of his obviously made-up name.

"I was merely trying to satisfy the desires of m'lady, that's all," Link said, bowing his head. They both sat still in the carriage and just as Zelda was going to rebut him, she realized where they were at. It was one of her favorite parts of town. Well, the only part of town she was allowed to visit really. And aside from frightening half the people on the street with their wild riding, she realized this would be a perfect opportunity to make a stop.

"Well, this looks to be as good an area as any to begin the day. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I wouldn't know," Link said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Aha, I knew it, he is a commoner! He has to be. I mean, every noble south of the King's Road knows of this place and yet he hasn't been here? Zelda squinted at his words, trying to solve the riddle of who he was. Link realized he may have slipped up so spoke more to the matter. "Well, I mean, I haven't been here in a long while, that is. I'm too busy training from sunup to dusk. I aim to master the trials at the festival."

"Oh, really?" Zelda leaned into him, trying to make him squirm.

Why does she have to do that? Look at me that way. Link fought the urge to relent and showed much courage in her attempts to make him feel uneasy, so the disguised knight coughed, "So, is this where m 'lady wants to disembark?"

Zelda fell back against the cushion of her seat. "Yes, this will suit us well." Little by little she will solve the mystery to the identity of this young warrior. One way or another.

"There, I secured the trunk." Link said, fastening a lock and belt over the secretive chest she had behind them on the carriage. Zelda stood by as he worked quickly with tying the mare to a hitching post so they can wander about on foot. "Don't worry, m 'lady, it won't come loose in a hurry and this old girl seems calm enough that she won't wonder off without us."

"I told you no more titles."

"I know, but I can't call you Zelda either, Your Highness. You're supposed to be in hiding remember?"

Zelda's face lit up at the notion and her mouth opened. "Oh, you're quite right. Well in that case, call me…" she had to ponder a moment. After a moment of pause in the summer breeze and with a squint and smile she decided on a name. "Call me, Tetra."

Link leaned his head back before nodding. "Tetra, eh, I like it. Sure, that'll serve. Okay, you ready? Oh, and don't you worry about the chest, I secured it. Nobody will be able to make off with it while we are away from the carriage."

"That's good to hear my gallant protector, but you're the one that shouldn't have to worry," She giggled, facing away from him, and shaking her head.

"What's so funny?" he asked confused. "I don't want some thief to run off with your belongings, my—"

"—Exactly!" she continued. "Take a look around you. Look at where we are. This is Sapphire Street. We're still in the nobility quarter and are yet to past through Union bridge into the commoner districts. In particular, this is where Zora come to make trade with us. As it is so named. There's Sapphire Street for the Zora, Ruby Road for the Gorons and—"

"—Topaz Terrace for the Gerudo?" Link finished for her.

"—Why, yes… So, you do know?" Darn, now I'm confused. Is he a commoner or not? I guess I'll keep looking for clues. Just when I thought I had him.

"Yes, forgive me, I was distracted by a shouting haggler who is…" Link's voice trailed off to the commotion brewing behind her and Zelda looked at him questionably.

"Who?" she breathed.

"Who is coming this way. Hold on. This will take but a moment," Link said stoically, stepping in front of her. The sun was beginning to rise high in the sky now and the man was stomping straight toward them. Zelda flung her hood over.

"You…you inconsiderate, how dare you!" the man scorned. "You nearly trashed my shop racing in the way you did and now look; my customers have fled! Keep that wild beast of yours under control!"

The merchant was a rotund Hylian who had a double helping of chin. He had a horse toothed mug and an untamed shadow of a beard to match. He didn't dress like the local Hylians did either and wore clothes befitting one from the desert. Dressed in nothing but a thin, dark silk vest, he was a sight that Link found hard to ignore. Sweat dotted his hairy chest and unshapely nipples, gleaming in the summer sun. To add to the spectacle, his neck was adorned with an array of cheap baubles. Fool's gold chains and dime-a-dozen amulets clattered around his neck, creating a distracting jingle with every move he made. He poked at Link's chest plate with an aggravated shove of his sausage fingers adorned with jeweled rings. Despite the overt provocation, Link remained unflinching, choosing to maintain his dignity and take the moral high ground.

"My apologies my good sir, we will be more careful here on out," Link said.

"Bah! Careful! I want compensation!" The man stomped on one leg and folded his elephant arms over the rolls of his belly. Good goddess, Zelda thought. I can smell the stench from his pits all the way over here. Hasn't he ever heard of a bath?

Link didn't budge though. "Compensation? For what? You're alive, aren't you? I'm not giving you a rupee. But, if you want trouble, you can—" Link gripped his sword hilt.

Feeling the situation escalate, Zelda stepped in. "—Easy does it my good sirs!" the disguised princess said aloud, stealing both their attention. "Mayhaps I can help? There's no need for violence here. It was just a misunderstanding, that's all." Zelda interrupted, stepping in front and between, secretly nudging Link to follow her lead and stand back.

She advanced towards the man, a deliberate sway in her hips. She knew exactly how to appeal to men of his ilk while maintaining her dignity, making sure not to come off as a common strumpet. "Look, my kind and... noble..." Zelda faltered, searching for the right words but they seemed to get caught in her throat. "Uh... handsome sir," she resumed, giving a gracious curtsey, her cloak fanning out behind her.

Handsome!? Link shot her a confused look under his helm.

And even though she would be hardly sixteen by the marrow's twilight, she had the shape of a woman's beauty and body beyond her years. That was all she needed to appease this oaf. I mean, of course it was. She knew his type. The slimy, walrus man couldn't help but give her his undivided attention now. The burly man was clearly enchanted by her charm and didn't bother to conceal it. As she continued speaking, he responded with lecherous grins and licked his lips, unable to look away. Zelda did her best to ignore his overt interest, while Link prepared to step in if the man disrespected her further.

With a honeysweet voice, Zelda continued to plead their case. "Could it be found in your gracious heart to forgive us this one trespass? On our behalf I apologize. It was an accident, and this mare here must have caught the scent of a strapping stallion nearby on the wind and lost all control. She is in season," she fibbed. It's possible she may have been telling the truth, but she was no horse master to know elsewise. But there was no way the likes of him would know that. He probably couldn't tell the difference between a mare or stallion-or his own ass from a horse for that matter.

From an early age, young comely women in her position learned the art of flattery, of how to manipulate the egos of self-important men. Such men who often gawked at her and her fellow court ladies with lecherous intent. Zelda detested resorting to such measures, yet, in this instance, she conceded it could prove useful. Despite this man being no lord, he certainly viewed himself as one, considering his position as a prosperous trader in town.

The man's demeanor softened by her calm nature.

"Please forgive my attendant here," she said. "I am on errand from her majesty, you see, and he was only making sure my task would be done in a timely manner. You know how Royal Guardmen can be." Zelda jabbed secretly at Link, all the while speaking to the man. "They really take their duty seriously."

Zelda couldn't believe the words escaping her lips. My Hylia, where can I find a mirror so I can see the reflection of the girl who's been talking all morning. Because she sure isn't me. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined herself behaving this boldly. Yet, there she was, playing the part. Something about this boy lit a fire inside her. Like a daring part of her finally awoken that had been asleep all her life. Link's presence fueled her. It was as if she could do anything, so long he was beside her. And the craziest thing of all, she didn't even know his name.

The man nearly fell back at the mention of the princess. "R-royal guardsmen?" The only two rolling marbles in this buffoon's head finally clicked together, noticing the insignia across Link's chest plate. It was an old uniform that much was true, but still one of their garbs, nevertheless. Now, he was the one shaking where he stood. "H-her majesty? She sent you!? Beg your pardons, please forgive me. We shall forget this whole thing happened. Please, may I bid you both good day." The man bowed and returned to his shop stand as if the entire ordeal was a figment of his imagination.

Link stood perplexed by what just happened.

"See, was that so difficult?" Zelda said, turning to nudge him. "You know, a little kindness could go a long way, mister swordman. Not everything needs to be a battle." Zelda proceeded to whisper to herself as she strode away eleganty. "Boys…pff, they think every problem can be solved with their sword."

Link rubbed the back of his head in awe at her prowess in diffusing the situation. He couldn't decide if he was going mad or falling in love with this girl. Both seemed plausible at this point.

In that instant, she spun around, and Link saw Zelda's eyes come alive. Suddenly, her dainty nose wiggled from a delectable aroma that wafted on the wind. "Come, I have something I want to show you!" she declared, her voice brimming with excitement. She grabbed his arm and led him down a lane lined with shops.

"Tell me, Sir-Helmsworth, have you ever tried the sweet pastries from none other than Erolin's Sweet Sanctuary? They're quite famous, even at the castle you be hard pressed to find better. We have them delivered special on occasion, in fact."

Link, still trying to maintain his reserved demeanor, replied, "I can't say that I have, Tetra," he said playing along. "As a guardsman, I must maintain a strict diet to stay fit and alert," he finished with a tease.

Zelda looked him up and down, taking in his chiseled shape through his guardsman's uniform. She couldn't help but feel a spark of attraction as she feigned a look of concern. "Oh, I see. Well, we wouldn't want you to lose that impressive physique of yours, now, would we? After all, you're going to need all the strength you can get for the trials later," she said with a playful snark. "But surely, a small indulgence wouldn't hurt, would it?"

Link glanced at her, a hint of a smile forming behind his stoic expression under the shadow of his helm. "Well, perhaps just one wouldn't do any harm. If my lady wishes."

"I do!" Zelda grinned, pleased with her small victory. "Splendid! Let's go then. I've always wanted to share those pastries with someone who could truly appreciate them. You're going to love them."

If only she knew how much Link enjoyed a good meal, let alone a sweet confectionary delight. They were rare for him. Growing up as a low born commoner, he didn't have the luxury of tasty treats. So, he savored them dearly whenever he could afford one.

Zelda led Link into the bakery by the arm. The warm and inviting scent of freshly baked pastries, confections and all manner of hand-crafted delights filled their nostrils as they entered the building. The shop was dainty and cozy, with wooden shelves displaying an assortment of mouthwatering goodies. Behind the counter stood the shopkeeper, a plump, rosy-cheeked man with a bushy white mustache that curled at the ends. He greeted them with a jovial smile, clearly proud of his establishment.

"Welcome, welcome! What can I get for you fine folks today?" the shopkeeper asked.

Zelda and Link were so engrossed in their playful banter as they made their way to the displays that they barely noticed him at first. There, Link pointed to a particular strudel that was shaped like a cucco. He was whispering beside her, telling her that maybe she should indulge in a bite of that one since it will be the only time anyone could ever eat a cucco and live to tell the tale.

Zelda tapped Link's arm back while smiling at his jest, trying to get him to pick a pastry for him instead, but he feigned ignorance, pretending not to know which one to choose. He loved them all. How could anyone make a choice with so many delightful options. All were bound to satisfy the senses.

"Come now, Sir Helmsworth, surely a well-trained guardsman such as yourself can make a simple decision like this?" Zelda teased, her eyes dancing with mirth.

Link played along, adopting a mock-serious tone. "Indeed, Miss Tetra, but as you said earlier, I must be cautious not to jeopardize my strict diet. So, it needs to be satisfying enough to fill me, yet tasty enough so that I won't be forced to have another."

"Forced?" Zelda rolled her eyes playfully at his silly explanation and pointed to a round, poofy pastry filled with sweet cream and topped with a dusting of powdered sugar. "Okay then, how about you try this one. It's called a 'Heavenly Puff.' I promise it won't sabotage your training regimen."

The shopkeeper, who had been waiting patiently for their order, coughed to be noticed during their exchange. "Ah, we finally made a decision, eh? The Heavenly Puff is an excellent choice! How many would you like?"

Link and Zelda, both still didn't notice him, still wrapped up in their flirtatious conversation, pointing and making jokes about the desserts on display. The shopkeeper waited patiently, his amusement growing as he watched the pair go at it back and forth, reminding him of his earlier days. Ah, to be young and in love and so full of promise, The man thought.

Finally, Zelda turned to the shopkeeper and said, "We'll take two, please."

"Sure thing, young lady." The man bellowed. As the shopkeeper prepared their order, Zelda and Link continued their banter, completely oblivious to the world around them. Their chemistry was undeniable, and it was clear that this chance encounter had sparked something special between them.

"So, are you going to take that bucket off your head to give this delectable treat a try?" she nudged as the shopkeeper prepared their order.

"Not a chance." He replied coolly. "My visor won't get in the way, don't worry."

The baker finished and spoke. "No need to pay. Seeing is that you two make such a lovely couple, these are on the house."

Link swallowed at the man's words and replied by sheer instinct. "Actually, we're not a—"

"Now, now, lad, I may be old but I'm not blind to love when I see it. No need to thank me, now please, enjoy." Not taking no for an answer, the baker handed them each their pastry and with nothing left to do but taste, they simultaneously prepared to take a bite.

Zelda spun to face him, armed with her dessert in hand. "Okay, are you ready to behold this magnificent treasure? Here goes! On three….One, two—" But Link couldn't wait and took his bite prematurely. Zelda couldn't help but roll her eyes, wearing a smile at his childish antics and decided to follow him with a taste too.

It was an explosion of flavor in their mouths. Each part of the dessert was like a note to a symphony of sweet heavenly goodness. The dough was airy, soft and had a hint of mild sweetness with a bit of buttery flakiness. On the inside it perfectly balanced the crust with a burst of decadent, smooth, white cream. And to top it off, it was dusted in a snowfall of powdery sugar. Although Zelda couldn't see the expression of his eyes under his helm, she knew he must have been in heaven by the way he licked the sugary dust off his lips. Link on the other hand, chuckled softly afterwards and made a gesture to her nose.

What's wrong?" she asked with a flirtatious hint of mystery, perplexed by his persistent pointing.

Link continued, directing her attention towards the powdered sugar that had taken up residence on her nose. At the same time, he wrestled the remaining chunk of his pastry to be ready for another manageable bite.

"What? What is it?" she pressed, setting aside her own sweet treat in a futile search for a mirror within the baker's humble establishment. Unfortunately, none could be found.

Link, struggling to suppress his amusement, chimed in with a solution. "Here, let me..." But as he advanced to assist her, he found himself caught up in a wave of cheeky reconsideration.

"Hold still, m'lady," he began, before pulling back with a mischievous grin. "Actually, on second thought...nevermind."

"On second thought, what!?" Zelda cut in. With a swift, playful motion, she squished the dessert he was about to indulge in into his chin, robbing him of his final, anticipated bite.

"There, now we're a match for sure!" Zelda giggled lightly. Link's lower helm was a mess and his chin was covered in pastry. Stunned the knight took a step back, fighting the smile all the while. "Well, excuse me, Princess," he said.

"Shh! I'm Tetra, remember?!" she reminded him, looking over both shoulders to make sure nobody heard him in the busy store. Watching him squirm was pure satisfaction and she giggled softly as he had to ask the shopkeeper for a cloth to clean up.

When finished, she motioned him to lend her the rag, but Link feigned not to care or relent.

"Oh, you're terrible!" Zelda said with a phony pout and stomp.

"Fine, fine. I suppose I can give you the rag," Link conceded. "After all, I do owe you for the treat, Tetra."

And with that, they cleaned up and departed the shop to embark on their next adventure into the city.

They boarded the carriage, and strolled through the bustling streets of Castle Town. The sights, sounds, and smells surrounded them as they rode through the streets and under union bridge where all the districts met before the grand portcullis gate. This was the heartbeat of the city. The aroma of freshly baked bread and roasting meats on spits from the lower quarters wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of flowers from the market stalls. Sweet Honeysuckles and Lilacs were abloom, and bees buzzed about them. New honey would be harvested soon from fresh combs, and the streets were alive with laughter and chatter, as people went about their daily business. Even a pair of hummingbirds entertained their presence, darted back and forth around their carriage, humming sweet songs nearby as if for them.

They were entering the commoner districts now. The people here were far less formal than the haughty type from near the castle and the roads were jam packed with people from all walks of life. Link pulled gently on the reins, slowing the carriage to a walking pace through the cobblestone roads; taking care this time to avoid running over fellow citizens. After all, this was his part of town now.

Here the city teemed with life. From shouting hagglers to out of town tradesmen, to farmers and street dancers, the city was bursting with excitement at every corner. Mummers performed where space could be found for loose green rupees and the laughter of children playing filled the air like music. A group of kids were chasing a cucco by the grand fountain while their parents' purchased supplies for the forthcoming festivities. People crisscrossed every which way, and everyone seemed to have to be somewhere and nowhere at the same time.

They were nearing Scrapbottom, an endearing name given to the district by the locals. Besides being home to many famous destinations, scandalous or ordinary it was more importantly Link's home. Though his father may have inherited the claim to his uncle's large farm in Cidermeadow fields on Orchard Row, the gambling debts he incurred in life were far too great and he owed rupees to one too many bad persons. For that, Link's father was forced to surrender the fief back to the lord of the land. Lord Ingomott. A cruel penny counter and borderline thief.

Since then, they were more akin to tenant farmers than owners. Every crop they labored under the summer sun was sold to settle a debt. Which by Link's calculation if all went well-which it hardly did- wouldn't even be paid back in two lifetimes let alone one. That reality dashed any dreams he had of leaving the city. His only hope was to secure a position in the royal guard, as the salary accompanying service to the royal family would certainly outpace the meager earnings from apple crops.

They were passing by now another famous establishment and one that brought many fond memories to Link, a particular recollection that happened recently. He wondered if she felt the same way. After all, it was of her. To their left on the side of the road stood a proud, grand tavern and adjacently, an Inn. This was Romani's Milk and Brew. Home to the best milk brew this side of the Old King's Road.

Link was on the verge of probing whether she also harbored any feelings for this part of town, when suddenly the bells tolled. High up in the steeple of the grand sanctuary and from the smaller houses of holiness dotting across the land, the loud welcoming chimes echoed throughout the city. Link slid the carriage to a halt so they could listen.

"A procession?" Zelda asked curiously. The mare neighed as if to confirm her guess, whipping her white tail back and forth just to be sure.

"Do you have a royal appointment you need to be at?" Link joked. "Because you know, I can turn this old girl around and—"

She smiled at him. "-No, not me. Look, over there, coming in through the main wall of town, down the hill, do you see?" she pointed, Link glancing in the directions of her words.

Horns blew, competing against the ringing of bells with songs of their own and one by one lines of soldiers flanked by armored horses marched through the wide gates of Castle town. Their hooves and footsteps moved in unison with impeccable precision, beating in rhythmic symphony against the cobblestones. Tall banners billowed and snapped in the wind behind them, each proudly bearing the heraldry of the various Hylian nobility of Hyrule. Soon, a mass of decorated armies representing each of their noble houses entered the city led by a parade of wheelhouses carrying their Lords. Following them were free riders and camp followers that surely made the long journey from distant lands with them. People cheered their arrival from the sides of the streets. Children could be seen throwing flower pedals heralding them as they marched by.

She was even lucky enough to catch a glimpse of a pair of towering Mammoderms trailing at the tail end of the column. Holodrumian nomads, she thought. Only they were known to ride such awe-inspiring beasts from far off regions beyond Gerudo Valley and past the Barren Salt Seas to the far east. They were the first she'd ever seen.

Urbosa had spun stories of these majestic creatures, painting a vivid picture that had stuck with her since she was a little girl. She had told of how they roamed the great Eastern Wastes and savannahs in massive herds, mirroring the Gerudo themselves with hardly ever a male in sight. If one was present, he was easily distinguishable due to his enormous size, large ears and razor-sharp tusks, a stark contrast to the daintier ears and stubby, rounded tusks of the females. The Kingstooth they called him, or Tusk if ever spotted. Named so because they were prized for their sharp tusks, fabled to be like scimitars and tougher than dragon scales. Yet, even with that, they were also rumored to be fierce and untamable unlike their female counterparts. Their sole purpose was to rule and protect the herd while fathering the next generation for a century to come. This pair that rode in must have been female she surmised.

Oh, how she would love to pet one up close, let alone ride such a magnificent creature. She wondered while stewing in her seat if Sir Helmsworth would want to as well.

The thought of him saddling up behind her atop one brought a warm blush to her face. What has gotten into me? I hardly know him.

"They…they are here for the ceremony," Zelda remarked, clearing her throat, to dispel the flush shone across her cheeks.

"And here I thought the town couldn't get any more crowded," Link muttered under his breath, although Zelda caught his comment.

"Don't worry, everyone will have a roof over their heads and a brazier to warm them by day's end, I'm sure. As we speak, grand pavilions are being prepared for those who need them on the bluffs near the castle, at the Queen's meadow," Zelda assured him. "Shall we make a stop? I like it here. It brings me back good memories," she said gleefully.

Link gulped at her comment, unsure by what she meant but played it off coolly as if he had no idea. "Sure, I don't mind."

The knight to be chivalrously lowered her from the carriage and hitched up their four legged companion to a galley of posts where other horses were tied.

"After you, Tetra." Link said, performing a bow.

No sooner have they made their way down the busy square did a pair of double wide wooden doors to a nearby house of holiness swing wide open. Out from the church came a small gathering of people and leading at the front of the yard was a young couple who Zelda guessed had to be in their early twenties. Older than her for sure but not by much. They were such a cute pair she thought. In some ways, the girl reminded her of herself, or at least what she imagined she would be if she had milk-chocolate colored hair instead of blonde and was older. Although her man was taller than Helmsworth, he was thin and soft rather than well-defined and strong. His face was comely enough though and so she could see the attraction. Both were lit up by wide smiles and they had stars were in their eyes, she could tell. Today must have been a special day for them.

The couple waved goodbye to a clergyman of Hylia who bid his farewell in return. Shortly afterwards the pair made their way right towards where Link and Zelda had begun their stroll.

"Oh, I see!" Zelda said delighted. "I get it!" Link's face went perplexed.

"Huh, get what?" he asked.

"Shh, come follow me and you will find out."

"Um, you want us to follow…that couple?" Link asked confused, scratching his chin, curious to what this girl was up to.

"Yes, trust me," Zelda giggled. "You'll understand soon enough." And sure enough, the couple approached and walked right past them, lost in their own little world of happiness as they walked the sidewalks of town. Their left was lined with shops, many with open windows displaying what types of goods and wears they had to offer.

At Zelda's behest, Link led them both behind the couple inconspicuously like a couple of sheikah ninjas. The princess flapped her hood over and Link led her graciously by the hand. Sneaky as a pair of cats. Keeping their distance yet following closely. He was still not sure what the princess had planned but decided to play along anyway. Why not, he thought. It might even be fun.

They didn't have to trail far from their carriage. The couple stopped at a textile and linen merchant to have a look through the glass showcase on display in the window. Zelda, standing beside Link scooted up beside them, feigning interest through the shop window as well, hearing what they were chattering to each other. The couple hardly noticed her, locked in conversation of their own. Link just stood by and remained silent behind her and watched this wacky girl work her magic.

"Don't worry my dear, soon we will be wed and then, our happily ever after will finally begin. We've waited so long. And now I'm finally here by your side, now and for always." The man said, his lady hugging his arm, giving him a romantic squeeze at his words.

He leaned his head to the side over hers as he continued to hug her, staring into the shop.
"The priest assures me he can do the ceremony in time for the great festival."

"Two days can't come soon enough." The girl whispered back, her eyes ashine with hope and promise. "Oh, won't it be wonderful Kafei? The princess will ascend to her rightful place as heir to the goddess and you and I will finally be husband and wife. We waited so long and now that my father has gave us his acceptance, we can be married. Oh, how the heavens have aligned! First my father and now the festival. I couldn't think of a better day to celebrate our union. Surely, the goddesses will favor and shower us with blessings for saving ourselves for this memorable day."

"And by blessings, you mean sons, right? I mean to raise three strong lads."

"Girls! Three daughters are what you mean," She corrected wiping the smirk from his chin.

"If that is what my love desires." He returned. Her face suddenly went downcast, and she spoke softly again with a hitch in her voice. "But…Can we afford such an extravagance? You don't have to do this Kafei."

"I will do anything for us, Anjuel. I will sell all I own if I must!" he assured her, falling to one knee, prepared to voice his love aloud for all to witness.

"You can't do that, what about our future?" she said sheepishly, about to cue him to stand up. "You work hard as it is my dear. I don't need this sort of dress. It's too much. Gaudy, in fact. I would prefer a humbler gown, like the one my mother and grandmother had. I'm sure they wouldn't mind lending it to me to on our wedding night," she assured again. In truth, the item she referred to was ancient and moth-eaten. The threads were coming loose, and it smelled of age old parties from centuries past with the taint of spilled wine and smokey halls. When the girl spoke of it, Zelda could see the lie in her eyes, her words betraying her emotions.

Kafei also saw the look in her eyes and remembered when she first spotted the dress on display in this shop days and days ago. She nearly died when she stumbled upon it. It was love at first sight here and it was obvious she was only being nice to save his feelings. It had become apparent to Zelda that they were poorer than most.

Zelda turned nonchalantly to face Link and whispered. "Psst, hey, can you do me a favor Sir-Helmsworth?"

Link awoke where he stood. Finally, were doing something. "Sure, what is it, m 'lady?" he said facetiously.

Zelda nudged him. "Shh, not so loud," she said softly with a big grin. "Could you fetch me my trunk from the carriage and bring it here?"

That didn't seem to be no problem so Link nodded and went back to their coach. While pretending to be enchanted by the dress inside the shopkeeper's display case, the princess continued to gather more intel on the couple. The dress they were marveling over was perched on a mannequin by a window, where sun's rays kissed its fabric. The base color was a deep Hylian blue and with wisps of cream in certain parts, reminiscent of the endless skies and clouds over Hyrule Field. It was a nicely made dress, but plain by Royal standards. Perhaps, one of low nobility would wear on any normal occasion. Zelda knew she could do better and in fact, just as she was thinking that, Link had returned with the chest.

The couple remained trading whispers with each other. "Don't worry dear, I can pay it off. I can sell the farm in Hateno."

"No, you mustn't, it's fine dear. I'll be alright, honestly—"

"-I insist, If my wife to be wants this gown, I can surely make her dreams come true." The man said, placing a shushed finger to her lips. "I owe it to our love. She only gets married once, after all."

"Oh, Kafei, you shouldn't have to, I'll be okay, I—"

"Excuse me," Zelda chirped beside them. "Pardon me for interrupting, but I couldn't help myself but overhear."

"I'm sorry, you had to hear our little debate," the girl began to explain, but Zelda continued, a sparkle in her eyes. "It's quite alright, in fact, I think I can help…. That is, if you don't mind me doing so."

"Oh, that is very kind of you, miss, but we couldn't possibly—"

"I insist!" Zelda declared happily. "Sir-helmsworth, open the trunk." Zelda ordered her attendant, trying to hold back the smile and surprise. Link undid the latch and kicked the chest open, revealing the splendor of its contents. Inside were fanciful garments and linens, worthy of royalty. One particular gown caught the eye of Zelda and she leaned to reach for it to hold it up for them to marvel at. It was the luxurious gown she had been given earlier that day by the pompous ambassador from Hytopia.

The young bride-to-be went awestruck. Never could she have dreamed to see such a marvelous dress up in person. Zelda approached her, her smile brightening, coaxing the girl to have a feel of the fabric herself. "It is yours if it pleases you," Zelda said warmly.

The bodice was fitted, adorned with embroidered patterns of silver and gold that snaked their way across it like the ancient vines in the Lost Woods. Like the dress on display in the shop, it too was blue and mother of pearl on its accents, with a hint of green flare though. The bell-shaped sleeves, long and graceful, reminded her of the gowns worn by queens in the old tales. Each sleeve was lovingly embellished with embroidery at the cuffs, and the patterns seemed to whisper stories.

Anjuel's heart skipped a beat as she admired the neckline – a modest, square cut, both elegant and befitting a noble. The lace that adorned it was finer than spider's silk, and she could almost feel the cool ocean breeze just by looking at it. The gems embedded within the lace were the color of fresh spring leaves and seemed to hold the very essence of the forest.

Around the waist was a sash of soft green, with flowing ends that rustled like the wind through the trees. The sash was reminiscent of the fields and meadows that surrounded Castle Town.

As Anjuel moved closer, she noticed the faint outline of the crests of the goddesses, expertly woven into the fabric with a golden thread that shimmered with an inner light.

At a loss for words by the Tetra's generosity, Ajuel stammered, "M 'Lady, we couldn't possibly accept such a valuable gift..."

"Please, I insist." Zelda assured. "This gown is far too beautiful to remain hidden away in a trunk, never to be worn. I would be delighted if you wore it on your special day. It is yours. For you and your posterity to cherish. I want your special day to be one that you will remember all the days of your lives."

The young woman's eyes filled with tears of gratitude as she held the gown. "Thank you. I... I don't know what to say. Who, who are you?"

Her husband-to-be chimed in, equally grateful. "Your kindness knows no bounds, stranger. We are truly honored. But, that being said, we cannot accept such a rare treasure. Why, this must have cost a fortune. I couldn't hope to earn enough rupees to cover such a cost in an entire lifetime. Even if I sold the farm. It's…it's too much."

Zelda lowered her hood, stood up proudly and revealed her face to them, smiling. "It would do me a great honor if you would accept. It is no burden for me, for it is I, your Princess that stands before you now."

Humbled by the revelation, the couple fell to one knee in reverence. "Y-your, your majesty, we couldn't possibly. You are far too kind. This is too much; I couldn't ever be able to pay for such a—"

Zelda continued, speaking joyfully. "-There is no need to kneel and there is no need for payment. Now, rise, I am in hiding today." Zelda giggled softly, flapping the hood back over her shoulder, winking at the girl. Anjuel was on the verge of tears, she couldn't believe what was happening.

Seeing the girl so happy, that was when the dam broke and the princess couldn't help the tears welling up in her own eyes. Luckily, she was able to fight back the cry and with her heart filled with joy at their happiness she spoke more. "In fact, I command that you enjoy this gift freely. It would delight me to see you wear it on your wedding day."

Zelda beamed at both of them, placed a soothing hand on each of their shoulders and spoke again. "It is my pleasure to honor you with this. I wish you both a lifetime of love and happiness together. The goddess above I know would want this and even now I know she smiles down upon you both."

"We shall never forget this kindness your grace," said the girl softly.

Zelda smiled and whispered back. "Shh, I know. Now, no more tears, this cause for you both to celebrate. Go and prepare for your wedding and when the day comes that I ascend the princess throne, it is my wish that you seek me out. Here is a royal locket. It carries my emblem and with this you, and your closest kin will be welcomed at my table during the final feast. A toast will be made to the both of you." The princess unlatched her necklace and gave it to the girl. "Show this to my guardsmen and they will grant you access to see me in two days." Zelda beamed again and the girl kissed her hand before taking the locket and biding farewell down the street. And before long, they were gone. The happy couple had departed with their trunk of treasure and the Princess's heart was swelling to the point of bursting.

Link was in awe. He had no idea that this girl, this princess, could have had such a tender heart. His entire notion of royalty was turned on its head. The lords he knew were greedy, pompous and borderline cruel. Yet, this princess, was anything but. She was a dream. He had to shake his head back to reality. Get a grip of yourself, she's a princess, you're a soldier. You have zero chance with the likes of her. She just needs you for some good company and someone to take her into town, that's all.

"Shall we make more use of the day, my knight?" she said, turning. Her eyes were still ashine with fresh tears but she eagerly wiped them away to smile at him.

Link could only nod and with that she lopped her arm through his and they began another stroll down the lanes and streets. As they continued their journey through Castle Town, Link couldn't help but see the princess in a new light. Beneath the royal façade was a kind and generous soul who genuinely cared for her people. It was a side of her he had never expected, and it only made her more endearing in his eyes.

As they exchanged more playful banter, their connection deepened, and Link found himself more and more intrigued by the compassionate princess walking beside him.

Zelda loved the noise of town, it was like music to her. Seeing the interactions between street vendors and denizens roused her intrigue. The children who played and the performers who displayed their talents for all to see. The sun had just crossed the middle of the big blue sky and it was shy of an hour past noon. Her and Helmsworth had discussed much lighthearted words and jokes as they watched those around them and just as they were thinking of heading back to their carriage, a disruptive shriek was heard that sounded out of place from all the other sounds of Silverupee square. Link immediately snapped into action and was suddenly back on the clock as soldier.

Zelda and him turned to face the direction of the commotion coming up from the street ahead of them. Suddenly a young boy with a sack on his back, no older than twelve or eleven Zelda could have guessed was bolting across stalls, knocking over carts and in a hurried run for his life. People tripped in fell in his wake and goods spilled onto the cobblestones. Giving chase closely behind came the shouts of a man, pleading for hel from anyone who would listen.

"Quickly! Somebody, catch that boy! Thief! Thief!" the man shouted. The boy was heading straight for them, his loot flung over his shoulder. Link stepped in front of the princess and took a defensive stance and as soon as the lad crossed his path, he stuck out his leg to give him a sneaky trip not before ensnaring him with his free hand by the collar.

"Hey! What' your problem!?" shouted the kid. "Mind your own business. Let me go! I didn't do nothing," the boy tugged and pulled daring to break free and just as he glanced up to see who had a grip on him so feverishly his tone changed. "Oh, a guard?" he said, noticing Link's royal uniform. "Um, well, you see, I was about to…Look, I—"

Zelda couldn't help but take pity on the scraggly dressed kid. "Helmsworth, it's alright you can release him. He's just a boy." Link shot her a questioned glance but realized she couldn't see his face, so he relented. "Don't even think about trying to run," he commanded the kid. Simultaneously, he dropped the boy to fall but as quick as lightning he snatched away his sack.

With a smile Zelda knelt to help him back up to his feet.

"Thanks, m'lady your guard dog here was just about to…" the boy had to take a pause. From where he fell, he had a clear view of her comely face from the shadow of her hood and by the look of her womanly figure as well, he suddenly felt his heart pound. Whoawee, she sure is pretty, he thought. He had stars in his eyes but quickly realized he needed to stamp them out or be caught for sure.

"Easy there, it's quite alright, don't be frightened," Zelda said, offering her hand. The boy eagerly took a chance to hold it. Such soft hands.

"Pff, I'm not frightened m' Lady." The boy insisted coolly. "I can take care of myself, well enough."

"I bet you can." Zelda said with a chortle. "Tell me, what is your name?"

"It's uh…" the boy tried to think up a lie. "It's—"

The salesman caught up to them, wheezing and out of breath. "-There he is! Thank you, good sir!" He said congratulating Link. "I know I could always count on a man from the guard to serve out the king's justice. This squirmy vermin tried to make off with all my wares! My masks! Without so much a bye or leave. The sneaky bugger! I nearly missed him too!"

"Did not!" the kind defended. "Why, he was trying to plunder me!"

"It's quite alright my good sir." Zelda said, trying to deescalate the situation. "I'm sure there is some sort of arrangement we can come to," she insisted, still disguised. Meanwhile, Link rummaged through the brown sack and sure enough, the man's masks were in there. Twelve of them it would seem by Link's quick count.

"Yeah, there is an arrangement we can come to, I think. Him, paying me my due! That's what! Only that will serve," the Hylian man stomped. He was older, wiry, clearly out of shape and nearly balding.

"Me?" The kid said. "You want me to pay you what you demand? It's highway robbery I tell ya! Charging forty rupees for a rental. It's not like I'll even own them."

Link turned to Zelda and nudged her while the boy was debating the shopkeeper. "Hmm, I say we should turn him in." Link joked.

"Helmsworth! Zelda's eyes widened as she smiled.

"I'm kidding." Link assured. "But, what do you want to do?"

"I have just the idea." Zelda said. Turning back to face the two of them.

The man had just shouted a final word on the matter. "See! You heard it from the little street rats own mouth! He means to rob me out of house and home!"

Zelda coughed beside them and cleared her throat. "I have a better plan!"

The two of them halted their shouting back and forth and both gave her a questioned stare. "You do?" they both said, stunned.

"Yes, seeing is that the matter is money, I think I can loan this young one his fee that is due. This should put an end to the entire debate. Here, just a second." Reaching for her satchel and inside one of the compartments was a small sack purse. Link leaned to see what she was doing and lo and behold when she unfurled its drawstring he nearly had a heart attack and stumbled over himself in utter shock. He couldn't believe his eyes.

Zelda spoke up to the shop keeper. "Would this serve? Or is it more you require?" She said, handing him a solitary gold gem, a rupee. Unbeknownst to her but to the stunned amazement of the three of them, she was prancing about castle town with an entire purse full of nothing but gold and silver rupees. Link was dumbfounded. He's never seen such wealth on a person before. That's more than entire years' worth of work in the royal guard and at least five years of apple crops!

The secret knight was about to faint. This girl is just full of surprises. Does she not know how much she has in her possession? He soon realized that of course she wouldn't. That would make sense from her point of view. When would a princess ever have the use of money? Everything they could ever want would be brought to the castle.

Link whispered in her ear as the man eagerly snatched the gem and nodded his head gleefully. "Tetra, why do you have so many rupees on your person? It's dangerous to expose such wealth here publicly in Scrapbottom."

"Oh, you think it's too much? I'm sorry, I just took a handful from the treasury when I left. I had no idea. I didn't want to go empty handed either. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, but—"

"But I should be fine, right? After all, I have my fierce protector with me."

"Well, yes, but….still," he insisted. "It's quite the sum to be flashing around. And what if I wasn't with you? What then?"

"Then for my sake, I'm glad that you are. But your concerns are duly noted, my knight. I won't make the same mistake twice." she said with a bouncing nod and gleam in her face. Turning to face the lad and haggler she spoke. "So, are we square now?"

"We certainly are m' Lady!" the man nodded and skipped off happy back to his stall whereas the boy remained.

"I—I don't know what to say miss, nobody has done something like that for me. Not ever. Why?"

"Well, what you can say for me is your name. If you tell me yours I will tell you mine. But, you have to keep it a secret. Deal?" She said winking at him. He was shorter than both of her and Link by a good head or so.

"Okay then, I will….My name is uh, Juniper. But my friends call me Jun. Sorry about earlier." He said, hanging his head. Zelda couldn't help herself but feel a tad bit sory for him, he was dressed in rags after all.

"Don't mention it. I'm princess Zelda and this here is my knight for the day, Sir-Helmsworth."

T-the princess! Jun awoke suddenly, but kept his composure calm as the wind. She's the one I'm after? Man, they weren't lying, she is gorgeous! Better play this cool or I'm done for, c'mon Jun, you got this. You can't fail the sensei, no matter how pretty she is. She is the enemy.

"It's quite alright." Zelda explained. "We'll put this whole debacle behind us, so long as you promise me not to steal anymore? Do we have a deal?"

Jun nodded humbly. "Yes, we do."

With the matter settled Link was about to usher the princess to return to the carriage the afternoon was beginning to grow late and he ha dto have her back in time for the preliminary festivities.

Not wanting to let his chance slip by, Jun spoke up."But, before you go?Your Higness, Will I see you again?"

Zelda spun to face him, her face aglow. "Hm, let me think on that. Why, yes, of course you will. In fact, tonight if you like. At the celebration. Will you and your family be there?"

The boy rubbed his arm solemnly, recollecting on a painful memory. "I uh, I uh…I have no family."

Zelda's eyes saddened. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't know….you know what, in that case. You can join me and Sir-Helmsworth. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. Right?" she said, playfully prodding Link's arm. He wanted to shake his head no but relented with a nod instead. How could he ever refuse those eyes?

"Then it's settled. Sir-Helmsworth will fetch for you once I'm back at the castle. I have to prepare now. And he must get ready for—well, never mind that. He will return and find you. Would you like that?"

"I sure would," he said. She has no idea.

"Well, then you're going to have to meet him at union bridge and he will bring you along to the starting pavilion for today's festival of the flame. I'll be sure to also pack some fresh linens for you to change into. I promise you won't regret it and you can even bring your masks! How does that sound? I know others will be celebrating with them as well. So, you'll fit right in."

"Sounds…great! Okay, I'm in, thanks your highness!" the kid waved goodbye and scurried off down the row of shops and before they knew it, he was lost in the crowd.

"You think he will show up?" Link asked as they stood side by side, watching.

"Hmm, I don't know. But, it was worth a try. He just needs some guidance, that's all." She said before giving a sweet look of him up and down, implying there's a role model in him. "Well," she sighed. "I say that's enough excitement for one day, what do you think? Come, we should head back. It's nearly one past the turn of day."

Link nodded and with that, they boarded their carriage and made haste back to the castle.

They were nearly through the main gates of the castle and about to enter the bailey when she spoke to him. "It was very generous of you willing to come back for him, Sir-Helmsworth."

She took him by the hand and gave it a squeeze. Link's body jolted with electricity. "That said, my only wish that today could have been any better was if I knew the real you. But, before you say anything, I know that a deal is a deal. You can keep your secret. But, even still I wanted you to know that I had a wonderful time with you. I never have seen my city in such a way as I did today."

"Zelda I—" Link was on the verge of confessing who he was when she changed the subject. It must have been the approach of the castle and the coming duty destined for them both.

"Are you worried about the coming trial this evenfall? And the ones to follow the next couple of days?"

Link was taken aback by the abrupt change in conversation but remained quiet as she continued. "They say the top contender is rather strong. I hear he has even bested men twenty years his senior on the practice fields. If the rumors are to be believed."

Link wasn't sure who she was referring to but had a hunch. There was only one cadet that had that much promise. He gulped at what she would say next. "But, they also mentioned he is quite the showboat, swinging his sword first headlong before using any wits."

Zelda sighed. "I confess I did think he was quite comely when I first laid eyes on him. He had a way about him that was charming. Even from afar…. Sort of…like you…but different. A brash confidence I think it was. Not to mention, a silly smile when realized he messed up." Link listened intently, he knew now who she was talking about. He continued to drive them up over the bridges and through the gatehouses.

"He was training I believe," she continued. "And would you guess, he even stole a laugh from me! The first I have had honestly in days. The face he made when he plopped in that bucket of zapping eels was priceless…."

Her face suddenly saddened as if a wind-swept chill blew away her happy disposition. "But, as often does, dreams are just that, dreams…. That was before the tales about him reached my ears. Link is his name. That's what it was, I remember now, Link! They say he has a girl in every district swooning over him and each night he lays lies in their ears with empty promises from that candy-coated tongue of his."

Link couldn't believe what he was hearing. If only she knew they were one and the same. But what's worst, who was spreading such vile lies about him? And why? Who could spin such deceitful silk that could lead up to the castle itself. Only one name came to mind and he had half a mind to set him straight when they met again.

Zelda spoke on. "Once I heard, the type of boy he was, I realized I could never have eyes for someone such as that. If not only for his way with his fellow trainees and being the cocky cucco that he is, but with his regard to ladies, or lack thereof. That was enough for me…." Zelda let out a breath wistfully. "Not that it matters, though. I'm to be promised to some lord someday anyway. It was only just a dream…"

Realizing she may have hurt Harmsworth's feelings, by his sudden silence and cold drive in the carriage, she perked up beside him, hoping to clarify. "But, he's nothing like you. And I don't care what the yarn spinners say, I know you can beat him Sir-Helmsworth. If the time came for a finishing duel. You may not be as strong as he is, but you have it where it counts most. You have heart and are gentle when need be and braver than most. When the bells toll at tonight's twilight, know I'll be rooting for you to be my victor during the trials. My….secret knight," she finished softly.

Link turned to face her over his shoulder. It was like a wall of bricks fell on him. On one hand she favored him and on the other, loathed his name, even though they were lies. Still, would she even believe him if he came clean now? Now he couldn't tell her who he was, so instead he decided to nod and thank her. Before they knew it, they were at the castle steps, it was time for her to go, and with a final squeeze of his hand she left him with a smile that he had grown so fond of.

Little did they know, today would shape their destiny forever.

Authors Notes: I hope you enjoyed this tidbit. The climax of this arc is just around the corner. Please if you could, leave a comment, it helps me greatly. 

Chapter Text

Over Ten-Thousand Years ago, the Year Before

"Step lively, Eliazar. The gloom here is restless and has no respect for stragglers. It's hard enough as it is navigating through this muck without your help," the elder admonished, his voice echoing through the dark, misty cave. His torch flickered hesitantly as he descended the primeval stone steps, casting wavering shadows that danced on the spiraling staircase leading into the mouth of an abyss. "Remember, the hands of time never tire."

"So much for expecting any help from the goddess, huh?" retorted Eliazar, the shorter, curly-haired priest, trying to keep pace with the cloaked sagely man. "I thought she would have at least helped you; you are her favorite!" Eliazar said. His voice trailed off in an uneasy chuckle that ricocheted off the cold stone walls, dissipating into the foreboding darkness.

Ignoring the jibe, Sahashrala hoisted his torch, illuminating the intricate murals etched on the walls, barely discernible through the relentless decay of time. Dusty cobwebs and desiccated moss clung defiantly to the remnants of ancient, chiseled stone. "Every challenge she casts in our path molds us into beings worthy of the divine. She can no longer intervene. That task is left to us, her faithful servants. With each trial overcome, we inch closer to enlightenment so that we may understand the mysteries of creation," he mused, his eyes reflecting the ancient tales inscribed on the walls.

Eliazar leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued by his words. As he teetered on the brink of a misstep, Sahashrala's firm grip saved him from a nasty tumble. "Hold your footing, man. This temple is a relic of a bygone era, teeming with traps as subtle as a viper's strike. Look around you," he warned, holding out the torch. The flame, once vibrant and resilient, now flickered with a deathly pallor, waning like a dying sun. "See how the flame withers?"

Eliazar gasped in surprise. "But how... What could possibly...?" He struggled to frame his bewilderment as the torchlight dimmed prematurely, succumbing to an unseen force.

"There's old magic here," Sahashrala whispered, his voice barely a breeze in the surrounding silence. "This place is awash with secret sorcery. Magick, the ancient ones called it. It's as if the very shadows conspire to feast on our light." He raised his hand to reveal a tiny gem glimmering mysteriously in the dim light. "And so, our only beacon in this impenetrable darkness will be the keenness of our senses and this singular grain of Soul Stone."

"Soul Stone?" Eliazar's eyebrows knitted together in intrigue, his face barely visible in the dwindling torchlight.

Sahashrala nodded solemnly. "Indeed. Here in this forgotten world, where magic thrives, we'll meet it with magic of our own. Only then may we have a chance to survive the peril that awaits us." His words hung heavy in the air as the two men pressed on, guided by the soft radiance of the Soul Stone, their hopes pinned on its ethereal glow.

Tossing the lifeless torch aside, Sahashrala forged ahead into the swallowing darkness, leaving behind a trail of quickly vanishing footprints in the age-old dust. Eliazar squinted, his eyes straining to follow the old man's form within the scant halo of light that the Soul Stone emitted. "Your tiny pebble there doesn't really do much, does it?" he grumbled.

Sahashrala groaned at his complaining. "It does enough, and I implore you to keep pace, Eliazar," he retorted, not missing a beat as he navigated the stone labyrinth with catlike agility that belied his age.

Eliazar huffed in exasperation, his brows creased in a frown. "Sorry, Sahashrala. It's just, you walk so darned fast, it's like you're possessed by something. What in the name of the goddess is drawing you to this ill-gotten place? For the life of me, I can't understand it..."

"If only..." Sahashrala halted abruptly, his hand raised to command silence. Eliazar, taken aback, stuttered out, "What? What is it?"

"Shh... We're not alone..." Sahashrala murmured ominously, his gaze scouring the unseen corners of the dark abyss.

Eliazar paled at his words, gulped, and spoke up nervously. "Why me!?" he whined.

"It's alright... Whatever is watching us can't hurt us. Only spectate." "Spectate?"

"Yes, beings from the Shadow Realm. Neither good nor ill. Watchers, the ancients called them. Guardians of destiny. Apparitions created by ancient magic to protect places deemed unfit for mortal eyes."

Eliazar gulped again and faced him in the shadowy darkness. "How do you know all this? I'm a priest for goodness sake, a man of the Holy Pillar, and I haven't a clue what you're talking about. Whereas you are... You are... Well, you."

"Not a priest, you mean?" The old man smiled.

"Well, yes..." Eliazar said, straightening his shirt.

Sahashrala turned to him, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "True, you are the priest. But, would you say you are a good one? Truth be told, your heart has always been more fond of home's comforts rather than the fumes of eye-burning incenses, droll prayers, stiff knees, and droning on of elders at the Holy Pillar, am I right?"

Elizar groaned at the truth spoken. "Well, yes, but you don't have to rub it in."

"Very well, I won't."

"Though I must confess," the man chuckled softly to himself. "I couldn't have said it better myself. In fact, speaking of, why did you ask me to come along anyway? You know I'd just slow you down. I was perfectly happy and content at home in my cottage, wrapped in my favorite quilt, sipping a hot toddy, lost in my book. Not galivanting off after dangerous legends in the darkness trying to save the world, thank you very much."

Sahashrala chuckled, patting Eliazar's shoulder. "And that's precisely why I need you. Company, and a touch of courage to face what lies ahead. It's dangerous to go alone, and even with all your mishaps, you have a lot to prove hidden in those bones of yours. I just know it."

"You seem to know everything..." mumbled Eliazar, out of earshot as Sahashrala stepped away.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing..."

The sagely man continued, "You will play a big part before the end. This story is yet to be written and far greater than you could ever find in the dusty pages of those books you love so much."

"Well, that maybe, but even after a most perilous evening of being lost in my books, if I were to perish there, come the morrow's dawn I'd find myself safe and sound, warm in my bed. Not food for worms."

The old man hesitated and turned to him with a question. "But why enjoy the legends of other men? You should live the life you've been given through your own eyes, Eliazar. Don't let the years of your life pass you by, my friend. And perhaps, you'll find that you may be part of a legend of your own." The old man slowly faced him with a warm smile.

That took him aback and he quite liked the ring of that. A legend of his own. "Y-you really think so?" Eliazar's eyes widened in surprise, playing at the thought with a click of his tongue.

"No... But my musings got you to come along, didn't it?" Eliazar hung his head, but Sahashrala laid an encouraging hand on his shoulder to lift him up. "But, mayhaps... mayhaps a stake in the myth if all goes well. Posterity will want to know the role Eliazar played. And how he aided the chosen one to save the world from certain doom." With a wink, he turned and plunged deeper into the shadows, leaving Eliazar with no choice but to follow, armed with his newfound sense of purpose.

After what seemed an eternity of cautious descent into the bowels of the temple, they reached its lowest level. The air here clung to their skin with a chill, dank touch and held a heaviness that made each breath a conscious effort. Ahead of them, a solitary stone bridge spanned an abyss, its far side lost to the impenetrable darkness below. A spell was in the air that made it harder with every step they trudged forward.

"This... this place, what is it?" Eliazar asked, his voice a mere breath, trembling with the echo of fear.

"A secret that was meant to be... forgotten," replied Sahashrala, discerning what he could make out in the fathoms below. They cautiously trekked across the narrow span and afterwards was greeted to a wide corridor which ended at the chasm wall. There they met a sealed door that had an inscription marked on it, written in an unfamiliar language lost to the slow erosion of time. The cryptic carvings glittered intermittently with a strange green glow. One by one, they would dim in and out of sight before reappearing. The sagely man paused their descent and fingered his long grey beard to study the inscriptions.

"I must unravel the mysteries here if we are to make a difference," Sahashrala remarked. "Here lies the key to our salvation, but the riddles scribbled on these walls elude me even now. The answers are probably staring at me right in the face, but I am unskilled to see the truth in these markings."

Eliazar glanced at the sagely man with worry. "Well, we're in big trouble if even you can't solve them," Eliazar shrugged.

"Come, watch your step. We stand on the threshold of the true trial. Everything we've faced thus far was merely the preamble."

Eliazar frowned, aghast, reaching above his ear to yank on his brown curls in nervous angst. "You mean to say we're NOT there yet? What have we been traversing this whole time then? We've been marching these confounded depths for hours now. My feet are ready to mutiny! Isn't this the temple or not?"

"These are the gates to the forsaken sealing grounds of the Holy Order. The hidden sepulcher of the lost Knights of Hylia."

"Who exactly were they? The KNIGHTs, I mean?"

"Magical warrior elites. Their lineage stretches far beyond the age of heroes, reaching back to the pre-dawn age. They were the guardians of Her Holiness when she was not only divine, but immortal, and walked amidst her cherished children on this good earth. They served in the era of ceaseless illumination, a time when shadows trembled and shrank away from the earth's surface.

"A time when the wilderness was sovereign and where enormous spires kissed the cloud-laden heavens, yet cast no shadows over the land. It was an era untouched by the taint of malevolence, before demons were torn from their imprisoning depths below. A time before the horrendous cataclysm, the seismic rupture that shattered their chains, setting them free to run rampant across the world.

"Such were the KNIGHTs, stalwart and steadfast, their history etched in the annals of time and memory, their deeds serving as reminders of an era where magic, valor, and honor reigned supreme. Though they live on, sadly, their numbers have dwindled to only a handful." He finished after leading the way for a while.

"You mean... like the Skyfyres of the Scorched Hallows? Sir-Locke and his brothers? Them?"
"Precisely. They are the last living heirs to the KNIGHT's sacred bloodline. Only they have the blood of heroes running through their veins."
Eliazar chewed on that for a minute before offering up another question. "Forgive my saying this, but why would she allow such a travesty to take place? Her Holiness I mean, With the fissures and the—"
Suddenly the ground rumbled and Eliazar and Shasrala both lost their train of thought. As soon as the tremors ceased, they continued their trek.

"What is it we're even looking for?" Eliazar questioned, his gaze darting around the oppressive darkness.

"I wish I could say for certain," Sahashrala admitted, his voice cloaked in mystery. "But something, or someone, guided us here. I trust we'll recognize what we seek when we see it," he whispered to himself as if he too was still searching for clues as to why or what divine intuition or power led him there in the first place.

"What?...You're not even sure? How do you even know—" Eliazar stammered, frustration seeping into his tone.

"I suspect we'll know when we see it. But, first, we have to solve the test to get through this door. It won't open on its own. No doubt the watchers have alerted the powers that reside here to our presence and have sealed the door. But, there is a way. We must earn our passage. That is the only way."

Eliazar's heart pounded in his chest. This was like one of his stories come alive, but he hadn't the bravery that the heroes in his books possessed. He had expected Sahashrala to have all the answers, but he seemed to be as much in the dark as him.

Sahashrala closed his eyes and placed his palms on the door. He began to mutter a small prayer, and as he did, the inscriptions started to pulse brighter with every word. The green light danced in the air as ancient energy coursed through the door.

Eliazar's eyes went wide with amazement. This was real magic - the kind you read about in old tomes but never expect to see.

Just as Eliazar was hopeful that the door would shutter open the strange glow on the door faded into silence as if they were always dark and Sahashrala opened his eyes.

"It appears my words are failing to reach the heart of those who barred the door," he said solemnly. "I want to say the inscription speaks of light, knowledge, and courage...Or something of that matter. But what?" He turned to look at Eliazar.

Eliazar's heart skipped a beat. "Well? And?"

"Give me a minute, will you? I need a moment to think... By all means, if you think you can do better, you are welcome to try." The old man snapped. Grabbed his walking staff and sauntered off mumbling more words to himself, trying to recollect himself nearby. They were both frantic for clues and the darkness around them was getting more eerie by the minute. A loom of dread began to hang in the air and neither were young men anymore. The day had grown long.

"I didn't mean to..." Eliazar wanted to say, apologetically. But even as he did the carvings on the door that weren't aglow caught his attention. They weren't spiraling ethereal words but were the hard outlines of figures. His eyes drifted over the strange runes etched in stone again, and this time, he noticed that these markings seemed to resemble weapons and shields. He scratched his head. "Wait! These symbols... aren't these representations of the weapons and shields used by the ancient KNIGHTs?"

Sahashrala's eyes widened where he stood. It was as if an avalanche hit him. The old man spun and took a closer look beside him. "By Hylia, you're right! The inscriptions... They symbolize the honor, valor, and sacrifice of the KNIGHTs. But what could it mean?"

Eliazar's gaze wandered around the far reaches of the room and then remembered the statue they had seen earlier in the darkness. A massive ancient statue of a knight that guarded corridor they entered. It depicted what was known as a Magick KNIGHT of Hylia on one knee, his sword pointing downwards touching the ground and the shield raised above his head.

"Remember the statue!" Eliazar pointed out. "The KNIGHT... his stance, it was like he was praying... an oath or something! Isn't it?"

Sahashrala's eyes gleamed with realization. "Their sacred Oath of Loyalty! It's not just a stance, it's a symbol of their vow, their fealty to the Royal Family of old! But... what were their words?"

They both stood there, puzzled. Sahashrala then also murmured, "Also, we must remember, the KNIGHTs back then not only guarded just the Royal Family but also the sacred realm."
"Wait, just hold on a minute. You mean to say that place actually exist?" Elizar was stricken by disbelief of such a thing.
"Well, of course. The keys to the kingdom lie hidden there."
"I thought that was just something they sang in the songs and fables. They do make such grand stories." He said wistfully, wishing he were home again, able to blow his ocarina for a tune or two.

"Do you remember that old limerick you used to read, the one passed down through ages?" Sahashrala's voice was soft but urgent. He patted the curly haired man's shoulder. "You were quite fond of that book, if I recall."

"You mean 'Three be the virtues, bound as one; In courage, wisdom, light is won'? That old children's rhyme?" Eliazar looked puzzled.

"Yes! It wasn't just a limerick; it's a clue. This is your moment, Eliazar!" Sahashrala looked at him intently. "Yes, that children rhyme as you say comes from an old KNIGHT's scripture, made easy to remember for young boys so that they could aspire to be KNIGHT's one day. C'mon think. What did your book say? The rest of the words."

Eliazar hesitated but relented to slowly approach the door. For a long moment he squinted and rubbed his temples for recollection. With all his might, he tried but the entire passage evaded him. "Three be the virtues, bound as one; In courage, wisdom, light is won....Ugh, confound it, I can't remember the rest."

"Please, you must. I know you can do this...Eliazar. This is your moment."

"I know, I know. Hold on, you had your moment to think, now this is mine."

Suddenly, like it never left him at all, it all came back. Every word. Easy as the rising sun. Eliazar coughed as to clear his throat and began again, Sahashrala pulled on his shoulder for him to hold off. "Wait, first...." The old man knelt and made a similar pose to that of the ancient statue performed nearby guarding the corridor. His aching knees creaked and croaked in protest, so much so to echo throughout the chamber of the chasm. He cued his companion to do the same.

Eliazar bowed his head and proceeded to mimic him and with a firm voice whispered the words he knew by heart, but now with conviction he had never felt before, "Three be the virtues, bound as one; In courage, wisdom, light is won. In valor's might, the KNIGHT's stands tall, Vigilant eyes guard, never to fall....In Victory's name, our blades do shine, Forever woven through the threads of time. With loyalty's heart, we serve the crown, Guarding the holy realm, we are duty bound."

As he spoke, the glowing symbols on the door began to pulsate with an increasing intensity. With the final word, a blinding light enveloped them. When they opened their eyes, the once-sealed door was now wide open, revealing an ancient hall that was hidden for centuries. With awe and determination in their eyes, Sahashrala and Eliazar stepped forward into the unknown. A grand, round chamber with a massive ceiling that seemed to stretch into an eternity of darkness above. The room had a strange hum in the air, almost like distant music or chants from an unknown tongue that made the hairs on their back stand up uneasy.

They were the first to set foot in this lost sanctum of the KNIGHTs in ages, a place where time itself seemed to be held at bay. What lay before them was both the culmination of their journey and a testament to the legacy of the guardians that once walked these halls.

At the opposite side of the hall was a massive pillar of translucent stone or crystal, engrained into the wall as if it were a part of it. Though the stone was transparent, it was impossible to peer into inside due to a black fog that swirled like ripples in the ocean inside. But before they could investigate that further, to their front stood an even more magnificent sight: seven knight statues standing atop pedestals arranged in a circle. In the middle of them lay a slightly raised platform. Each statue was brandishing a different weapon - a sword, a spear, a bow, a hammer, a staff, a shield, and an axe.

"Hmm," Sahashrala mumbled to himself, pacing around the room. His gaze was fixed on the walls, where faint inscriptions portraying the sacred relics of the golden power were - Courage, Wisdom, and Power - were carved.

"This is a trial of alignment and discernment," Sahashrala announced. "It has to be."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm not—"

"--Then?"

"What other option we have. Look, these markings—"

"Can you read them?"

The sagely man was getting annoyed, but kept his composure. "Not in its entirety...But, I can make out some symbols. Now, if my judgement is correct, it wants us to solve the riddle to the room. 'Only a true KNIGHT may enter'. That's what it says....Or at least, that's my understanding from these two portrayals here."

"Well, that isn't good. Neither of us are true KNIGHTs! We'd have to come back with Locke or—"

"--Shh, not necessarily...Just a moment please."

Sahashrala took the time to circle about the room and with a flick of luminous stone to light his way he studied each statue before him. "There must be something....Aha!" The old man nearly jumped and ran back to his companion. He had an epiphany.

"Each of these KNIGHTs represents a different virtue, and they must be aligned with the trinity's virtues. For it is said only a true KNIGHT may enter. Then that means... there is something or someone who does not belong here."

Eliazar frowned. "Seven knights. Three virtues. That math doesn't add up."

"Indeed," Sahashrala replied. "We must look for clues. Like this for instance, look, here the staff and the axe are not traditional knight weapons."

"But, they have used them before right?"

"Well, yes...But, oh, you're right, just keep looking then!" So, for several minutes that felt like an eternity they scoured each of the stone apparitions separately.

Eliazar shivered. "Sheesh, this place makes my skin crawl. And must they stare so coldly?"

"Just keep looking, the sooner we come for what we are looking for the sooner we can get out of here." He was tired too. And just as the old man was about to give up, he had another revelation. "I get it," He muttered under his breath. "Eliazar, this is the key. I understand now. Six KNIGHTs must be divided up to their corresponding virtue."

Meanwhile, Eliazar's own eyes widened as he studied the statues from at a further glance. He noticed that the knight with the staff was wearing a cloak adorned with images of wind and clouds, while the other six all wore traditional armor. In fact, the one with a staff didn't have the build of the others as either and seemed to be a person of frailty.

"Wait a minute," Eliazar interrupted. "The staff! It's the Sage's Staff of Winds! That statue is not a knight; it's a sage, like from the old stories!"

Sahashrala's eyes widened. "By Hylia's grace, you're right! Excellent work, Eliazar. Here, help me move them to face where they belong and get that impostor out of the way."

"Impostor? The sage of Wind?"

"That is no true sage of wind. See the marking on his back? The crest, it's all wrong. I thought you said you were a priest?"

"Well, I thought, I—"

"It's quite alright." Sahashrala smiled at him. "You were clever enough to decipher the riddle here so I mustn't complain. But, yes, this room was trying to tell us something. A story perhaps, one that I've never heard, nor shant I think anyone has, even Locke the valiant who is of their blood probably has heard of such a tale."

"Are we going to move this thing or are you going to prattle all day—" Elizar was heaving sliding the statue by his lonesome before getting some help.

"Oh, my, yes, sorry."

Thusly, they navigated the statues into position, drawing a line in the dust with the blade and the spear in such a way that their gazes intersected with the symbol of Courage etched into the stone. It was an ancient proverb well known to Sahashrala of the KNIGHTs, spoken in hushed reverence: 'Tis by the blade that Courage is learnt, and by the spear of faith it is strengthened.

Next, the bow and the shield, each an emblem of its own virtue, were carefully rotated to face the triangular crest of Wisdom. It was wisdom, they said, to let the wind guide the arrow's flight and to patiently await the moment to release it. Wisdom too, was in the ability to know when to brace behind the shield, to deflect and defend, rather than to lunge headfirst into danger.

Lastly, they maneuvered the statues bearing the hammer and the axe towards the inscription of Power. For these tools were the emblems of unadulterated strength, demanding fierce might in wielding and using well upon the battlefield.

The statue with the staff was pushed aside onto a floor tile that didn't match the hue of the ones that were in the circle.

"There," Sahashrala said. Suddenly, the ground shook, and the mismatched tile quickly revealed itself to be a hidden floor switch.

Suddenly at the center of the gathered statues, in the empty space lifted a column and for a brief second, the room was filled with a golden light emanating from the breach in the floor, and a majestic chime like the ringing of a thousand small bells tolled. And when they opened there eyes revealed to them upon the pedestal lay an ancient scroll. Eliazar couldn't contain his excitement and pushed his way past his friend to marvel at the scroll that revealed itself to them.

The older man followed closely behind as his friend unraveled it, hoping to reveal its secrets. It looked to be a map of some kind from what Eliazar could deduce from his standing.

Sahashrala breathed, a glint in his eye. He gently laid a small piece of soul stone as he stretched out the parchment. The light of which illuminated the markings that were written in an ancient script with depictions of locations and strange creatures. Seven runes for seven beasts and laying in the center was a depiction of a crystal shard. "This is why we came here..."

"Can you read it? Do you understand what it says?" Eliazar danced where he stood, tracing his fingers over the craftsmanship and script work, anxiously while the old man presses his beard out of the way to study it. Eliazar loved such fine antiquities, especially old maps and such.

"Heavens no, man. But, we are not without hope, there are those who did and more importantly they left the keys to decipher such mysteries."

"Well, that's good then," he gulped. "Then I guess we best get going then. After all, we came for what we came for, so how about we get out of here before the dead here take us to join them in their forever slumber?"

"Certainly," Sahashrala said. But just then Eliazar did something he didn't intend and rolled the old scroll back up and stepped away from the column.

"No, wait!" Sahashrala exclaimed but it was too late. The damage was done. In taking the scroll beyond the sacred round seal of the pedestal the room rumbled and a smokey hiss seeped out from the massive stone encapsulation they had forgotten about in the darkness toward the rear of the chamber. We weren't supposed to remove the parchment, yet. He wanted to say, but that was too little too late now.

Eliazar tried to remedy his mistake by placing the old paper back but it was for naught. "Um, is that supposed to do that?" he said, slowly pointed to the massive crystal shard looming behind them, daunting and impressive.

Sahashrala turned his attention to where he was pointing and his eyes darted around the chamber, taking in every minute detail. His aged brow furrowed as he observed the enigmatic designs etched into the walls surrounding the colossal crystal shard above and below it. It was then he realized as he gulped a dreaded thought.

"What? What is it?" Eliazar prodded, nervously. The ground shook again. Suddenly, the black fog that spilled forth plumed into small billows and dissolved in the air around them. At their edges they would materialize right before their eyes into green magical wisps that danced around them.

"I had not anticipated this..." Sahashrala muttered, his voice carrying an edge of alarm that Eliazar had never heard before. The old man went to approach the massive crystal. All he could see into it was a thick, green darkness. Like staring into a black lagoon. Suddenly, the smoke around them ceased and now there were nothing but ghostly, green energy whispering around them.

"What? What is it?" Eliazar queried, his gaze following Sahasrala's.

"This place, it is not what the citadel has led us to believe."
"What? What are you saying?" A shiver rattled up Eliazar's spine.
Then, the sudden realization struck the old man like a fist from a Talos. "This is no tomb to honor fallen heroes.... It's... a prison." Sahashrala said with dread. His eyes wandered over the crystal-stone encasing that had been protected by old sorcery. "But, for who? Or what?" he whispered silently to himself. His companion was getting restless, and his words weren't making him feel any cozier.
"Then why did we come to such a wretched place? What drew you here?"Eliazar's voice quivered. "And what do you mean, you don't believe this is a tomb any longer?"

Sahashrala's hand shook as he pointed towards the particular pattern of swirling green magic emanating off the the geological strata. "Look here, this symbol represents imprisonment. And that one, above you, it means banishment by the blood of the chosen."

The realization dawned upon Sahashrala's face, and his eyes widened in terror. "By the heavens, this must be the Eternal Seal, crafted by the ancient KNIGHTs themselves to contain an unthinkable darkness!"

The ground shook again, this time much more violently. "What is happening!?"

"I don't know, but I think this was a mistake." Sahashrala whispered to himself. "We have to go! Now!" he yelled.

"RUN!" Sahashrala's voice carried a level of urgency that made Eliazar's heart skip a beat.

Before they could react to depart in all due haste, ghostly figures clad in the armor of ancient KNIGHTs emerged from the statues, their ethereal weapons drawn and cold green flames flickering in their empty eye sockets. "These spirits guard the chamber! They are a final line of defense left by the KNIGHTs to protect its secrets. We have to flee now!"

"But how are we going to get through them?!" Eliazar shouted back, his eyes wide with fear.

Sahashrala took a deep breath and then began chanting. The words were old, echoing with the weight of centuries. The spectral KNIGHTs hesitated for a moment, then turned their ghostly gaze towards Sahashrala.

"Now! Grab the scroll!" Sahashrala yelled to Eliazar. "Quickly, now!"

Eliazar, summoning every ounce of his courage, dashed towards the pedestal, dodging ghostly swords and ethereal shields. And grabbed the scroll.

As he turned to run back toward the entrance they came, a ghostly sword swung towards him. At that very moment, Sahashrala's chant reached a crescendo and a barrier of light appeared, blocking the sword just inches from Eliazar.

"Go! Go! Go!" Sahashrala cried out.

Eliazar darted past the apparitions and rejoined Sahasrala, scroll in hand.

With one final word, Sahasrala summoned a powerful gust of wind that blew them back through the entrance of the chamber. The sealed door slammed shut, and the runes upon it glowed briefly before fading away.

The two stood panting in the corridor leading back to the surface, the echoes of the ethereal guardians slowly dying down behind them. They could hear the chamber they left being buried into silence as the rumblings of crumbling walls and stone sealed the area shut forever.

"You were incredibly brave, Eliazar," Sahasrala said, out of breath and a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "You faced the spirits of ancient KNIGHTs and lived to tell the tale."

"Oh yeah? And since when did you know magick?"

"I don't—"

"--But, the words, those chants, how did you? I saw you!"

The old man shook his head wearing a grin. "He knew magick." His long white beard fluttered in the cavern wind. The sagely man, unfurled his cloak and revealed a gold medallion clutched tightly in his grasp. "Sir-Locke granted me this just before our journey. Through this I was able to summon up powers of those far greater than my own. The ability to command the Aether was just one of many the ancient warriors of his line were able to harness."

"Tell me, if they are so powerful, then why didn't they lead this quest? Why have us, two old goats galivant looking here?" Eliazar huffed and wheezed.

"Because a KNIGHT's place is by the Queen's side. Dark times are here again, and I fear those who wish her ill will would seize on an opportunity if they lacked in their absence. You and I were capable enough."

"Oh yeah, well, speak for yourself. My knees are scratched, and my feet are killing me."

"Stop bellyaching, old friend, we have made it in one piece, and more importantly, we have what we came for."

Eliazar sighed and relented, smiled and looked at the scroll in his hands and then back to Sahashrala. "That indeed we have. Now, if you don't mind, let's get out of here before anything else decides to wake up."

Sahashrala chuckled softly at that, nodded and patted his friend on the back as he helped him to his feet.

With newfound determination and the sacred scroll in their possession, Sahasrala and Eliazar made their way back through the temple and toward the surface, vowing never to speak of the secrets they discovered deep within the earth until the time came for them to be revealed.

Authors Notes: This was a short one and I hope you enjoy it. I will be going on a hiatus now to work on my youtube channel for several weeks. When we return, it's back to Zelink before the trial of the flame! Let me know your predictions. I hope you are excited and please, lots of you have yet to comment, if you do like, please do me a huge a favor and say so in a comment. It really helps me and motivates me. 

Chapter Text

Why we failed One-Hundred Years Ago

 Part 5

The Princess's Plight

It felt like the entire kingdom was buzzing with excitement, like a beehive of joy and anticipation. People from all walks of life, from the lowliest peasant farmer to the proudest of regal nobility, happy pilgrims were flocking to the city in droves, their hearts brimming with joy for the jubilee. At the crescendo of it all was yet to come: the Queen's feast. A grand ceremony that would bring together the young and old, the rich and the poor, in a grand celebration of unity and shared laughter. A chance for us all to reflect on the blessings of this era of tranquility and revel in the prosperity we've been gifted. Everyone, regardless of birth, would be welcomed under the Royal Family's pavilions for the final feast, a monumental event where I, the Princess, would step into history like so many who came before me, assuming my rightful place as heir apparent to the goddess.

Though, the idea of which was daunting to say the least. I mean just hours ago I was trembling at the idea, frightened in fact. But suddenly those feelings dissipated for now. Something in me changed. Like a lever had been pulled deep inside. It must have been that thrilling excursion with Sir-Helmsworth, perhaps? Or, just the jitters catching up making this whole day seem surreal. Like a dream that at any moment I would wake from and find myself in the safe confounds of my bed sheets. But, it wasn’t a dream. It was real. This was happening and whatever that silenced my worries for now, I was glad for it. And for once in my life, I was excited for what the days to come would bring. I was actually smiling.

As I floated through the castle halls walking on clouds, I felt an unusual lightness, a sensation of weightlessness that matched my euphoria. Call it the buzz of adventure or the excitement of a first boy’s touch. For once, everything was falling into place, and it was even better than I had dared to hope. All I had to left was just navigate these next two days without a hitch. That couldn’t be too hard, could it? First, the ascension ceremony, then anoint the pledges. I could almost hear my heart whispering to me: "You've got this, Zelda. Just a little more. Prove em all and show your mother you can do this. Make her proud." It was a wild dance of hope and trepidation for sure, but for once, I allowed myself to lean into the joy of it all. I should be terrified at the prospect, but somehow, that boy’s courage rubbed off on me.

Could you believe it? There I was, actually humming to myself. I practically skipped up the castle steps to my quarters. The world around me reduced to a wonderful blur of colors as ornate tapestries hanging from the walls, paintings and other antique décor whizzed by in my haste. Bursting into my chambers, I was greeted by the familiar smiles of my best friends: Impa, Purah, and Urbosa, all waiting for me. Each seemed poised to tumble over the others just to be the first to exchange a word with me for how the morning went. They seemed more eager to know than I was to tell.

Meanwhile, my devoted handmaiden, Adeline, was in a flurry of activity, coordinating with the other court ladies to prepare my dress for today's celebration. The first horn, beckoning the initial gathering, would blow any moment now. Located only a stone's throw away, the girls wasted no time gathering all the attire in which I was about to be dressed for the royal gown, symbolizing a step further into my destiny.

"So, how did it go!?" perked Purah. "Well! Out with it!" But before I could get a word in edgewise, Urbosa was already beating me to it. "Can’t you see the poor girl is out of breath?"

"Yeah," chimed Impa. "At least give her a moment to breathe and collect her thoughts. Can't you see she ran up those steps? They are quite the climb." Purah huffed and leaned back impatiently, tapping her foot, while her sister signaled for one of the other maids nearby to bring forth a round of refreshments that had been arranged on a pewter platter. Truth be told, I may have broken a sweat in my haste back to my chambers, so the drinks were a welcomed sight. The serving girl, Alara, spun the platter before us, offering up the satisfying sips. She was a dark-haired, slender-faced, shy mouse of a girl who had a sweet song to her voice. After sharing a few glances and giddy smiles, we each reached for our elegant glass goblets in eager delight.

Our drink of choice today was a delightful one, a particular favorite of mine and, admittedly, a pleasure for them as well: A Zesty Hydromel. Few other sweet summer treats were as special as this particular drink. This wasn't your average lemon water. No, this was a masterfully crafted concoction, originating from the magically cool waters found deep within the wells of the Domain. Those hidden pools were a wonder like no other in the world. No matter how long the water sat out in the sun, it always maintained a perfect chill, even at the peak of summer.

True artisans of this beverage would squeeze the juice from the ripest Hydromelons, harvested from the finest Sandsong oases, into this divine water. Their sour succulent flavor would then mingle with a drizzle of liquid golden honey for the perfect balance of sweetness. And not just any honey, mind you, but only from the scarcest of hives found in the zephyr blown hills of the stony mountains. The bees in those lands were blessed above all others. Their nectar was infused with rejuvenation and the very essence of vitality brought forth by the blooming blossoms and the sweetness of sun-kissed petals of Sundelions, a rare flower that could only grow at the peaks of high off places. The finishing touch would be a garnish of golden ambrosia made from the juiciest berries that would sparkle in the glimmering light invitingly.

Drinking it was an experience unto itself. It wasn't simply a means to quench one's thirst. Rather, it was an elixir that danced on your tongue, offering a refreshing coolness that engulfed you. It was akin to being wrapped in a gentle breeze carrying the fragrance of Hyrule's flourishing meadows. Just the beverage fit for such a momentous day, a princess with her friends, and a moment of peace amidst the whirl of preparations.

The girl also brought other treats, and after we each partook of the sweet morsels brought from the kitchens, I spoke. "Well, it was wonderful. You won't believe this, but I’m actually excited for tonight."

Urbosa sipped her crystal, "I told you, you would feel better when the time came. You just needed to clear your head, that’s all."

Impa nodded, chewing her small bite of fruitcake while Purah adjusted her glasses. Meanwhile, Adeline was in a whirl of preparations. Suddenly, I found myself surrounded by a busy beehive of ladies in waiting who were spinning me around, flinging my garments off while others were placing new ones over me. Streams of fabric floated in the air as they wrapped around me. One girl would arrange, whereas another would modify where I stood. I could hardly speak; they were moving so fast.

Purah chortled, "Well, at least if all else fails, you can wow them in that gown. I don’t think any of the men will be paying attention to what you’re praying on about if you’re dressed in that."

Instantly, and beyond my control, I could feel my cheeks flushing a hue redder than the sweet Hydromelon juice we had just partaken. Adeline's eyes narrowed, turning towards Purah, "Pray excuse me, but these are just the undergarments, not the dress in its entirety."

Impa suppressed a chuckle at the realization, and Purah blinked, adjusting her spectacles once again. "Oh, well, I-I knew that," she defended as her sister continued to chuckle, much to her annoyance. "Cut it out with that horse laugh. It upsets the princess."

"No, it doesn't. I don't mind—" I began, only to squeak as another lady lifted my arms to add yet another layer of pompous clothing.

Purah huffed, "Well, it annoys me!"

Urbosa smiled and stepped closer to appraise the situation. "So, does he have a name or what? You've been smiling the whole time you've been here, Little Bird."

My cheeks blazed with heat at the mention. "Um, well, it’s Helmsworth, Sir- Helmsworth." That was all I managed to say before the sentence on my tongue was interrupted by the door to my bed chambers swinging open.

Immediately, everyone fell to a reverent hush. My maids paused their work and fell to one knee. My father had arrived. I had initially thought he would be pleased to see me as I was for him, but that was asking too much. His face was stern, his eyes devoid of warmth. Although it was the peak of summer, an icy chill filled the room at his presence. Nobody uttered a word. His proud blue eyes scanned the room, noticing the fuss and busyness of my ladies. Clearly, he wasn’t satisfied. And then his firm voice filled the room.

"No need to rush on my account, we're already late anyway," he stated scornfully, not at my girls, but at me. The ladies remained bowed, except for Impa, who dared to peek at his position. She immediately shut her eyes again, realizing he was standing right beside her. He stepped further into the room, evaluating my state of dress with disapproval. He fidgeted with his shirt, fixing some non-existent crease—a habit he had when disturbed or anticipating a confrontation.

I braced myself. Here it comes.

"What's ten more minutes anyway?" he remarked, glancing around the room. "As you all were," he commanded. "But I would like a moment alone with my daughter. I apologize for the delay, but it will be just a moment. I have something I need to discuss with her."

With his words, my shields—my friends who had always been there to bolster my courage—departed from my chamber. As they exited, Father ambled over to the window, peering out at the terrace overlooking the gardens. His tone remained just as severe when he spoke again.

"So, I see that you decided to return after all. And just where, exactly, have you been, young lady?"

Nervously, I attempted to swallow the frog in my throat. Does he know? What do I say? "Papa, I... I just—"

"Not another word!" he interjected, turning away from his contemplative gaze outside. His eyes, as frosty as their blue hue, fixed upon me. "I have been informed of your adventures."

I stood, tongue-tied on the gowning stool, half-dressed, my body frozen in fear.

"You were gallivanting through the streets of Scrapbottom again, weren't you? Weren't you?! Even after I expressly forbade it after your last attempt!" he accused, pointing a finger at me.

Stepping off the stool, I almost tripped over one of its three-legged pegs. It would have been disastrous, but I managed to catch myself just in time. My voice trembled. "Papa, I didn't think it would be a problem because I—"

"Zelda Araleia!" he interjected, shaking his head in disappointment. Hearing my given name was a jolt; few knew it, as it was almost a secret. We royal ladies all bear the name Zelda, but each of us also possesses a unique given name, ours alone. He hadn't used mine in years, not since Mother... His loud voice, filled with disapproval, jolted me from my thoughts. "How many times must we go through this? You're not to visit the commoner districts alone, or without my permission and adequate protection! You could have been taken!"

I stuttered, struggling to formulate a response. But when he was this upset, it was nearly impossible for me to interject. It was as if I had regressed to being five years old again.

"Can't you see that you're courting danger with these reckless escapades? Threats have been made against your life!" he admonished, his voice echoing a blend of concern and exasperation in the stony silence of the royal chambers. "I won't risk the life of my only daughter. You are precious to me...You are all I have left."

His words made my heart sink. As upset as I was, I began to understand his point. But it wasn’t like he imagined. "But, Papa, I had an escort. I wasn't alone. And besides, he is a trained guardsman! There was nothing to worry about."

His face flashed again with anger. Whatever emotional sentiment he had went flying out the window he was staring out moments earlier. “Oh, and is that supposed to make me feel better? Now you tell me that all that stood between those Yiga savages and having their way with my daughter was a single, solitary guardsman? And what’s worse, you admit that one of my own household guards can’t be trusted, and not only that; that he has the gall to betray my orders. By your own lips you doom him for treason! Don’t you realize what I must do now? The position you put me in!”

My knees trembled at his declaration, and I nearly fell back. The words caught up in my throat again. “Treason? Father, that is unfair and ridiculous…” I could feel my fingers clench, tugging at the sides of my gown as I raised my chin up to face him. I snapped. “He only beckoned to do what I wanted because it was at my command. Leave him out of this! Please!” I found myself defending my mystery knight.

Yanking on the illustrious lapels to his suit he shook his head in confirmation. “Enough! You deliberately disobeyed me. Once more, the start of the ceremony begins within the hour, and you’re late for your gowning. The eyes of the entire kingdom will be upon you this evening. Don’t you realize the importance of this day? This is your ascension!”

“I know, as I’m constantly reminded,” I said, turning my face down and away into my shoulder, to hide the tears welling up in my eyes.

“Then?” He questioned. “When will you cease with these childish antics of yours?”

That comment stung. Too often have my thoughts and opinions been dismissed because I was just his little girl. “"I'm not a child any longer. I'm nearly a woman grown now! Old enough to make my own decisions about when and where I travel within my own kingdom—"

“Nearly, a woman!” he interrupted. “But, even still, you will always be my daughter! And since you’re so eager to prove your ladyhood and independence these days, perhaps now you will act like one. With that, comes responsibility. And the wisdom to abandon these foolish kid’s game of yours. From now on you will behave as such. Your place is here among court and the other nobility. You will reframe from being seen in the lower districts, is that clear?”

I had demands of my own. “And who is it that has been watching me?”

“That is not of your concern.”

I stood my ground, not taking a non-answer. “Which one the weasels from your council has had me followed? Was it Galivan? Was it him? Hmm?”

My father only shook his head, now standing in the doorway. I was no longer frightened. I was too upset and too full proud to be. I wasn’t a little girl no longer, nor will I be corralled like one.

“No, not him.” His voice rose again. “Not that it concerns you which of my counselors speak with me. I am the King. Where and whom I speak with is none of your concern daughter. Your concern should only be the next three days. Is that understood?”

“Well, was it him?” I prodded. I needed to know who the culprit in my father’s inner circle was that was spying on me.

And just like that, like summoning a black crow of misfortune, out from the shadow behind my father came the devil in disguise himself skulking in from the hall. “Good morrow to you too, Princess,” he said, with a sugary slick tongue. Though, in reality, he had a slippery viper’s tongue.

I was in no mood for cruel japes, least of all, for him. “It’s beyond half pass the break of day my lord.” I corrected. “The hour of the rustling grass, if you may.” I couldn’t help but narrow my gaze at him. That man disgusted me though he despised me no less as well. Except when, I was of convenience for him.

Galivan slid into room, as if he were wearing silk slippers. He was dressed in his usual gaudy attire adorned with amulets, trinkets, and all sorts of priceless rings that he no doubt must have swindled lords from their riches for the promise of salvation. “My pardons, excuse me, My Princess. You are correct. I was just distracted by your radiance, that’s all,” He said with a phony bow and arm across his chest, glancing only to where I can see, a sneaky grin and a glimmer of a strange malfeasance in his eyes.

His stares frightened me, but I wasn’t about to let him know it. Father looked at me and was about to say something else but thought better of it and cleared his throat instead. High Priest Galivan took the free air to speak his mind instead. “Oh, I do not believe the princess knew the danger she was in your majesty, after all, she is still a child to us all, regardless that she will ascend to her rightful place by your side tomorrow.” He then sighed the falsest sigh I ever heard. How can father be fooled by this man’s charade?

Galivan stepped by and lifted his hand in grandiosity, as if he was speaking and honoring the maiden goddess herself. “I mean, it feels like only yesterday she was just a babe swaddled in her sweet mother’s arms, isn’t that right, Your Highness?”

The king only stood and stewed on his words before raising a hand of his own to speak. “Yes, you are right Galivan. The time has come much too soon.” The king shook his head, as if he was sadly reminiscing. “Much too soon indeed and I fear we are not ready. I am not ready.”

“Papa, I—“ I took a step out and reached for him but he turned away too soon back into the doorway behind Galivan.

“I hope you reflect on the words I’ve said, sweet Daughter. They weren’t meant to hurt you. But, guide you into the lady I know you were born to be. One that will make your mother proud. Know that I love you and I always will.” He said softly over his shoulder, back turned toward me. I stood stiff in the middle of my bed chambers.

Galivan cleared his throat before I could utter a syllable back. “If I may, Your Grace, a word with the princess? For preparation on tonight’s jubilee.”

My father nodded solemnly. “As you wish” he said to him, not before turning back for a final time to address me. “I’ll be in my solar finishing up on some charters that need attending to. I won’t be long so don’t delay. I trust going forward today that you will behave?”

All I could do was nod. He did have a point. I wasn’t just some mere farmer’s daughter. I was the first daughter of the royal family and with that came a massive responsibility. Not only to him, but the entire kingdom. “Yes, father. I will.” I said like a humbled mouse. “Forgive me for my outbursts.”

“Very well, then. I’ll see you at the top of the hour.” He finished. And just like that he was gone, leaving me alone with that vulture of man, Galivan.

Making absolutely sure that my father was out of hearing, Galivan took off his mask of pretended piety and chivalry. The serpent had shed his skin indeed. “My oh my, how you have grown indeed, my dear.” He said, pacing closer to me before encircling me with his steps. I couldn’t move.  For some strange reason his creepy stares were like an army of hands holding me into place. I couldn’t budge an inch. But, when I looked around nothing was there. No restraints holding me back. Just a man, using sweet tasting but poisoned words.

He continued and with every step he took, it was one more piece of clothing he undressed me with his eyes. I couldn’t help my face from reddening in shameful disgust. It was already bad enough he found me partially gowned, with mostly still in my small clothes save for be some modest pieces of fabric covering me. Thank the goddess. But, I practically did half the work for him. Gross.

“Quite the lovely flower you have become. So fair, gentle, delicate and unspoiled….a woman now, indeed.” The lecher licked his lips and my belly twisted at the sight. With all my might I fought the urge to show any fear of him.

“I wonder, are you excited for today’s ceremonies?” he asked but I didn’t reply. I held firm, hoping that he would just go if I ignored him. But that was for naught. It seemed to only excite him further. Then he did something that totally caught me off guard. I had no time to react. He leaned forward, reached for a lock of my hair and sniffed at it like a hyena about to devour a prey.

“I can’t help but think to myself what would happen if something were to go awry in tonight’s big debut.” He let loose of my hair and stepped back, crossed his arms as if evaluating me on an auction block about to be sold to the highest bidder. “Oh, whatever shall we do?” he said. “Perhaps, there might be a way to mitigate such unforeseen mishaps? Maybe, if there was a certain someone willing to carry the people forward even if the princess were to miss her marks? Tell me, do you think something like that may fair for her better?” he said unleashing a viper’s smile while his long red nose pointed at me. “After all, through me, things could go easier.”

He continued and I found myself following and counting his steps, praying that his next would be his last to leave me be or the very least, trip and break his neck. “After all, it is a lot of words and deeds to remember and get right. So many verses, rites to herald and movements to follow. Very easy for somebody, anybody, let alone a young lady to misstep and draw all the wrong murmurs among the crowds. All the realm will be watching. If only there was someone, she could rely on to shoulder the burden?

“Perhaps, even make the whole thing go by easy for her. Though…a risk such as that does come at a cost.” He said, thumbing his chin as if recollecting a dozen solutions when he already one. He then stared at me long and hard waiting to see what I would say. Out of my control I chewed my lips to stop them from quivering nervously. Damn it, don’t let him get to you. You’re stronger than this!

“It wouldn’t be much, rest assured, just a trifle really…Call it, a good-will blessing.” He leaned and reached for my chin as if for a kiss, but I pulled away before he could escalate. “It would be my gift to her if she offers me her gift, first.” He smiled.

And there it was. What he wanted. It wasn’t some treasure or priceless heirloom of mine. It was me. A man more than double my age and not for some strange love he may have had but for his sick carnal lusts. To be another trophy that he can mount on his wall. I felt like I was going to wretch. And his poor wife. Does she even know the man she is married too?

I snapped. I had enough. “How could someone like you ever rise to the ranks of High Holiness at the Citadel?”

He smiled devilishly. “I ask myself the same thing every waking day, Your Grace. And yet here I stand and so do you. Now, do we have an agreement? I will be kind, rest assured...I will be your first, I trust?” he said with a snorting laugh that sounded like a cruel trumpet. Not only did he shame me with his offer, but he had the audacity to question my virtue. The nerve of this man.

“Never! I would rather leap from the window and meet the goddess herself than ever give you the satisfaction.” I stomped, taking a step toward the window. Not that I would jump, but out of sheer instinct it was almost as if I was really going to make good on my threat.

“Why, you break my heart princess, tsk, tsk.” He said with a shake of his head, feigning to act like he cared about me. Except, that I knew better, it was my body he wanted. “Careful now, you know that I have many allies in your father’s court. It will be such a shame for someone you care about to suffer because of your disrespectful words to a man of the cloth.”

“You wouldn’t dare, I’ll tell!”

“You will do no such thing little princess. Remember, your grace only ascends through my good graces and we wouldn’t want an unfortunate event to befall your big debut would we? And by only her holy light are you worthy at all. Remember that.”

I flinched. His words stung like the venom. His lips curved into a cruel jape of a smug smirk.

He then laughed again. “But, I can be a reasonable man, and I do have such a tender spot in my heart for young ladies who need my assistance, as you know. Call it a weakness of mine.” He paced closer yet again. “Tell me, your highness, are you willing to pay any price for the love of your people?”

“I told you; you can’t possibly think I ever would do such a foul thing. How could you ever think I could have eyes for someone like you. Have you no shame?”

“Well, If it meant securing your reign or losing it, maybe you might reconsider,” He said with a crooked crocodile smile, slick and slimy as ever.

“You wouldn’t dare! Enough of this! One word to my father of this sickening proposal of yours and you will be given up to the Weeper.” I stepped away, about to leave my room when he snatched my wrist firmly and twisted. “Let go, you’re hurting me.”

“I don’t think so, sweetling. Not as much as you hurt me today. Besides, your father wouldn’t dare besmirch or offend the faith of her holiness. Not at a time such as this. Lest you forget, I have the ears of the faithful and that includes all that rabble out there” he said, his chin pointing out my window. It was true. I could hear all the shouts, laughs, sounds and noises from the city. It was almost to a bursting. Everyone would be here for tonight.

“From lowblood to high born, salvation by her holiness lies through me,” he affirmed.

I was on the verge on slapping him when he let loose and softened his expression. What was he up to?

“Alas, your devotion won’t be needed. I can see now how much this upsets you,” he said, suddenly walking away as if he was willing to dismiss the whole thing. “I don’t want that sort of trouble. At least not right now.” He cupped his chin and turned to face me once more, his deceptive, dark eyes looking at me from head toe. “But, I believe we can both be satisfied with a compromise. Perhaps, another prize. One of similar beauty but less worth?”

Curse this frog in my throat. I wanted to scream at him but all I could do was listen. Instead, my eyes filled with tears, but I quickly shook them away.

“I’m an easy-going man and not hard to please,” he assured. “That Adeline girl you’re seen running and giggling with around the castle halls. What about her? Would she be able to see the light where you have…not?”

“You swine, how dare you!” I took a step forward. Fists curled at my sides. “She is but a maid of only six and ten.”

“As are you if I recall?” he defended. “Or, you will be by the marrrow’s twilight if recollections serves me right. Is that not the age when girls flower into ladies? Why else would the entire kingdom be bowing in supplication at your coronation these next few days?”

“Never! Out of the question. I will not—"

“Then I will have no choice but to leave you to your own devices during the faithful rites and ceremonies. See how the kingdom reacts to their princess when she fails them for all to see.” He sneakily leaned closer to me and I stiffened like a stone. There he whispered into my ear. His breath smelled of lavender and the perfumes he wore all but tried to mask his ill intentions with delightful aromas. “Imagine the look on your father’s face, when his only daughter proves the tongue-waggers true. A paper princess indeed.”

“How could you?” I managed to eke out. “You know how important these few days are, why are you doing this?” I was on the verge of tears. Don’t. Don’t give in. Stand strong.

His demeanor softened slightly out of nowhere as if he had an epiphany. But, I knew it was only a temporary respite. “Easy, easy, we don’t want you upset before your esteemed guests see you, would we?" he inched closer. His sour sweet breath in my face. "Also, your ladies have done so well to fix your dress.” His grubby fingers hovered over the small of my back then gravitated down as if to caress my buttocks through my clothes with only the air between. “It would be such a shame for tears to spoil and spot your gown.”

I was at my wits end and just when I was about to break, he stepped back for a final time and spoke. “I’ll give you time to ponder on what I said, sweetling. Think about all the things I can do for you, if you only but give me a sliver of what I ask. Your friend….The honor and all that entails of the realm can be yours for the taking. And all without hardly any effort on your behalf. If you are kind to me, I will be kind to you.”

Before I could utter a phrase back, the sickening swirl of his words ate at my belly and as I lifted my head from the shame, I found myself alone. He had gone as he were never there at all. Free of prowling eyes, the dam broke. I collapsed to my knees, tears drenching the floor. So much for being brave…Oh, Helmsworth, if only I had your strength.

Thinking I was alone I bore it all. My head buzzed and the once happy sounds from outside my window now rang like the chimes of dread in my ears. The time was now. But then, a small voice spoke from behind the veil of my room, where my wardrobe stood.

Out from hiding bolted over to me was Adeline. “Shh, shh,” she said, trying to calm me.

“We were, just…just, having a conversation,” My voice raced and was sporadic. Get a grip. You are the first daughter of Hyrule.

“It’s alright, I heard the whole thing. Don’t you worry about him. Leave him to me.”

“No, you couldn’t possibly, he is a very powerful man Addy.” I sniffed, wiping the red tears from my eyes. Frantically, trying to explain to her, warn her, anything.

“I’ll be fine. He won’t touch me. You know me, if he tries, I have a present waiting for him alright. My strong boot.” The girl smiled, trying to lift my spirits.

I smiled back, halting my frustrations. “When did you become such a brave fighter?”

“When they insulted my liege and friend, that’s when. And besides, I know that if I didn’t do anything about him, you would and it wouldn’t be pretty. You may not know it, but there’s a lioness in you just waiting to be freed.”

“I always was told there was an eagle, a loft-eagle within me. The scion of my house.” I sniffed.

“Even still, both are not to be messed with or provoked.” Adeline nudged. “Now, we heard your father. We mustn’t be late. I’ll go fetch the other girls to help finish you up. Screw that pervert Galivan, you’ll prove him wrong. You don’t need his slimy help anyways. You can do this all on your own, just you watch. You are the princess of Hyrule, heir of the goddess, and what is he? Hmm?”

I had to reflect on her words. She had a point. There was truth in that. What was he? She was right. I’m the one with the blood of the divine and he, he was just some upstart from a low noble family. Not even high nobility. A man who cheated the way through the ranks. He had to of. Right?

She nodded firmly, wearing a smile. “That’s what I thought.”

I sniffed again, also returning back a smile. “ Thank you Adeline. You’re right. I won’t let the likes of him spoil my mood. Not now. This is my moment. Not for him, but for my people, my father and my mother’s memory.”

“Don’t forget Sir-Helmsworth now, I bet he will be eager to see your ascension.”

“Adeline! I’m serious.” Just as when I though we were sharing a moment, she decided to jape instead, by bringing boys into the mix.

“As am I,” she returned with a wink of mischief. “Now, wait here, I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

And before I could blink, she vanished. There she went, through the hall and down the steps to where the others were likely waiting for me in the foyer. The time is now.

Authors Note: Sorry, I know I said I would be taking a break, and  this time I really will. Expect me back in like three weeks. I hope you enjoyed this tidbit to hold you over until the big chapter coming next. Link's pov. Let me know your thoughts and what you think will happen next. See you around!

Chapter Text

Why we failed one-hundred years ago

pt. 6

The Knight's Dilemma

“You there! Yeah, you, the one with his head in the clouds. I’m talking to you, who else!?” A lower officer barked at me from the yard. He’d been directing traffic of servants and soldiers alike. “Today’s the big day and you’re in the way!”

He was a broad-shouldered man wearing a half helm emblazoned with the royal crest. My head was in the clouds alright. What just happened? Did I really spend the entire morning with the princess, or had I dreamt the whole thing?

“Are you deaf?! These wine casts aren’t going to transport themselves to the Queen’s meadow; and from what I hear, those plump little lords are thirsty and can gulp it down faster than we can pour it. So, if you don’t mind, we’d like to be on our way!”

I blinked at his words, still unfocused and reminiscing what had just transpired between me and her. The echoes of serving men shouting small commands to one another, the creaks of wagon’s being loaded, and the whining of horses rang in my ear.

“Are you testing me? You’re hindering their path! Can’t you see there’s a line behind you? If I have to thump your skull to get that beast of yours a move one, so help me—”

I finally shook my head; and pinched my cheek. Yup, I was still alive and was not dreaming nor dead and gone to Hall of Nayru. Instead, I found myself still sitting idly by in the carriage that I had rode in with the princess on our way back to the bailey where I left her. How long have I been sitting here stewing?  “Um, right, sorry m ’lord—” I managed to get out before he could stomp over toward me.

“On second thought, what are you even doing here?” he interrogated. “I don’t recall ever seeing your face around here before.”

Oh shit, he might recognize that I’m an initiate and not a soldier yet. Act casual. After all, it’s a terrible crime to impersonate a man of the Royal Guard. The man rubbed his chin, squinting in the afternoon sun as he marched over to where I sat, scanning me up and down. “You must be one of Lark’s men. Aren’t you? Aren’t you!?” he barked again.

Lark? Who the hell is Lark?

“Goddess, damn him, always leaving me his leftovers.” He shook his head in disapproval. “Notoriously, Lazy! All of ya!” he raised his hand above his head and waved furiously in the breeze, ushering to where others were working in the loading bay. “Well, move that carriage and have a hop off, I’ll find you some real work to do. You can loaf around and daydream on your own time!”

The castle courtyard was like a witch’s cauldron, brimming with activity. Soldiers and servants alike hustled, carrying loads atop wagons for transport to the tourney grounds and party pavilions. From crates hauling livestock to be butchered and cooked for the feast, to barrels brimming with brew and everything in between, all would be taken down to the festival grounds. Nearby, the Seneschal shouted even louder his instructions to others under the command of the Master of Works, Lord Mason, who were busy gathering construction materials for the spectator stands that were still being built for the esteemed guests at the Queen’s Meadow.

Nobility would have their own raised platforms and benches surrounding the King and the princess, whereas low bloods like me, outsiders and everyone else would have to make do with standing while watching the trials and games unfold. Only during the great feast will all be equal under the tent of the Royal Family. Many pavilions will be raised dotting the lush green hills of the meadow but at the center would lie the Trinity’s tent. That is where the Royal Family would dine. And if all goes well during the trials, I’ll be welcomed under it, even if it is only under the guise of a Guardsman.

As I prepared to dismount, another voice roared through the uproar, stopping the insistent officer who was questioning me in his tracks. “He is on my orders and performing crucial castle duties. If you need more help, then I suggest you go and talk to the steward. This lad’s services are needed elsewhere today.” It was Captain Finn, looking weary and in a rush. In a blur he hopped to sit beside me, cape flapping elegantly behind him, gesturing for me to take the reins. “Let’s go, we’re finished here. And be quick about it,” he whispered frantically to where only I could hear.

“My pardons sir, I didn’t know he was one of yours.” The petty officer said, easily recognizing him. Master Finn was a hard one to miss and had a dead-eyed stare that could make the bravest of men flinch. Especially, when the searing pain to his leg flared up.

The short officer gulped with a bow. “Very well, then, I shall find another. Good day to you both.” The man returned to the frenzied activity of the others, disregarding our intrusion. I kept silent, watching Finn. His face tightened in suppressed annoyance. Something was amiss, but what could it be? I half expected to be reprimanded for my late return to the castle, but he seemed more anxious to depart than I was. It seemed like he didn’t even care at all where I’ve been and that something far more pressing was on his mind. But, I didn’t want to question it and seeing it is that I was in enough trouble I slapped the reins and we were off.

I swallowed as our mare led us through the portcullis of the first gatehouse. We were nearing the curtain wall now, which battlements were surprisingly sparse of defenders. Usually, the crenellations atop the ramparts would be manned by halberd-men standing a spear length apart. But, today, I was lucky if I could spy just a single polearm standing vigil on the wall as we rode past. I’ve never seen the defenses so deserted. They must’ve been pulled back and placed elsewhere in light of today’s ceremony. After all, the king and the princess would be safely ensconced in their pavilion today and I suppose the brunt force of those guarding the castle would be better served shielding them.

As we trotted on, I couldn’t help but notice the shake to Finn’s hand as he wrestled in his seat. A slick of sweat trailed his brow, and he winced over every rough stone our wheels creaked over. I knew his leg bothered him something awful, but this was different. This was something more.

Trying to conceal himself from my attention, he reached for a rusty, pewter flask tucked in secret pouch he had wrapped around his breastplate. Glancing over both shoulders he drained its contents and wiped the purple drip from his chin before taking in a heaving sigh to about to address me.

“Don’t bother.” He grumbled at me as I flinched back to look away. “You wouldn’t even understand even if I told you. There’re other matters you should be concerned with.” He groaned again as we rode over another ill-gotten stone poking from the street. That time I swore he gripped his knee so tight I thought he was going to unsheathe his sword and cut me down there and then.

This was it, I just knew it, the scolding I was due for returning to the castle so late. I spoke in my defense before he could chastise me. “I apologize m ’lord captain, it was wrong of me to take the princess out into the city, but I was merely obeying her wishes—”

“—You think I give a Zora dam about any of that, boy?” he snapped, wincing again at some mysterious ailment other than his leg. He gritted his teeth together so loudly I thought they were going to shatter. “What I want to know is, has anyone inquired about me since we last seen each other?”

His question caught me off guard. Why would anyone question his whereabouts? As the third highest-ranking officer of the royal guard, he was typically the one hollering out orders, not taking them. “Anyone at all? C’mon, boy, think hard!”

“Uh, no m ’lord captain, sorry. Not that I can recall….” I replied, bewildered.

“Good, let’s keep it that way,” he said, eyes wandering over me skeptical whether I was one to run my mouth or not. “For that, your little escapade will remain a secret between us. As well as my business at the castle,” he said turning in his seat to narrow his eyes on me as I drove us over the drawbridge that led back into the city.

For a moment there was an uneasy silence. So, instead, I chose to focus on the sound of lapping of water in the moat, the quacking of ducks, the rhythmic clip-clop of our horse's hooves on the wooden planks beneath us and the creaking of our spoked wheels alongside the distant echoes of laboring men. And suddenly, breaking the silence, bells tolled again high in the steeples scattered across the city, heralding the incoming pilgrims rushing through the main gates, eager for the festivities. “Do we have an understanding?” He asked, his icy tone cutting through the cheerful chimes in the air like a Hebra frost.

“Yes sir, of course.” I assured with a nod.

“Good. In that case, how about we make haste from this place and get our asses back to Romani’s.” Then something most peculiar of all happened. His stone stare then melted away into a pleased grin as an assortment of trumpets blared to match the melodic chiming of the bells.  He then scratched the scruff of afternoon shadow on his neck before glaring at me again.

With his stare fixed, the realization came to me that Hylians were typically bereft of facial hair, unlike other races. A beard often indicated mixed blood, perhaps with Sheikah or other foreigners. There were, of course, a few exceptions to this rule. The king, for instance, boasted a proud beard, even with his pure Hylian lineage tracing back as far as anyone can remember in the kingdom. Other nobility also shared this uncommon trait. In fact, it was seen as a sign of high esteem in the bloodlines. However, for the majority of Hylian men who weren’t of noble blood, chins were usually clean of any hair. At most, amidst a gathering of common men, you might be lucky enough to spy a neatly trimmed mustache or a sparse goatee.

He suddenly spoke. “I’m sure that old goat Athelon will be wondering where we've got to,” He chortled a painful laugh, before slapping my back in assurance. “The festival is to begin any minute now. We best get you there on time or there will be hell to pay from your father.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Make way! Clear the road! All of ya’s!” Hollered a foreign soldier clad in darkened plate atop an armored horse. “Make way for Chancellor Danarus’s son, commander of the northern hosts of his Majesty, Lord Arasmus! Make way!”

Small folk and nobles alike were clearing a path up the narrow cobblestone roads that headed up to the castle from the inner city. The Hylian northerners received a warm welcomed.  And I saw many maids eagerly offer tiny bouquets to decorate the armor of their shining knights as they clopped by. The older folks would beckon them and their retainers with shouts of joyous praises from streets and windows. But, even with all the smiles among the sea of faces I could still spy a few in the crowd who had less than favorable opinions of the incoming invaders. Those folks would stand silently and glare. Naturally, I could care either way. All I knew is that I had to hurry the hell out of the way of the oncoming procession and set our small carriage aside, or risk being stomped over by their cavalry.

Captain Finn clenched his fists. “Who the hell do these bastards think they are? Coming into our city and making demands like if they are royalty. Can’t they see we have a schedule to keep!?”

“It’s alright m ’lord Captain, I can move aside. It’s no bother. We’ll still make it in time—" I offered generously.

“You shouldn’t have to lad, not for the likes of these, vermin. Stone Crows they are,” he said with a huff falling back into the seat. There he stewed and folded his arms in disapproval, not before leaning over to spit onto the side of the road. “And that’s not even the worst of them. You see that emblem draping over the surcoats of those ones standing there?”

“You mean the men at arms wearing the fiery eyed raven that’s chiseled from onyx?”

“No, not them. Those men you speak of are the Stone Crows. Nothing more than brigands and peasant soldiers. Poor bastards are forced to wield blades made from polluted steel--and their pikes are little more than sticks with sharpened rocks at the end. I have my quarrels with them to be sure, but I’m talking about the other ones there, being led in tight formation by their commanding knights, the more disciplined soldiers marching under their liege’s standard. They share the same sigil as their lord, you see them now?”

I loosened my hold on the reins and stood up from where I sat and peeked at the end of the procession where an opulent wheelhouse was rolling in. There a dozen men swarmed around their lord’s carriage. Six soldiers to a side, marching two abreast in perfect lockstep. There were far less of them than the Stone Crows.

"Those my lad are—”

“--Dagger Dragoons.” I finished his sentence solemnly. Just mentioning their name made my tongue sour.

“Oh, so you do know who they are?” he reiterated. “Interesting.”

“No, not really.” I lied.

My eyes squinted on them. Oh, I know them alright. Too well, in fact. How could I forget? I had an introduction with the likes of them last night. Not that I would let Finn know that though. I was already in enough trouble as it was for being late.

He continued his speech as I pulled on the reins and the mare slid her hooves to a halt on the cobblestones. “They’re a far cry from their Crow brothers to be sure but they are the pride of Draene. The personal guard of their liege. Look at their armor, it's unlike anything else you’d find here. A perfect marriage of boiled leather, mail and plate. Their weapons are true castle forged steel and worth a pretty gem too. Not like those pissant common swords you see many others dancing around with. You see that dark alloy that adorns them?” he said, tapping my shoulder before pointing for me to have a look. “You see that subtle discoloration in the metal work that gleams back strange shadows in the sunlight? Their damn armor practically swallows up the light, shielding them from enemy eyes at night. That is what they are known for, you know? They are prized for their secret ore that could only be found in the Stonelands.”

I nodded, intrigued as to how come I was never told about this before.

“Their armor is blackened plate made from a combination of secret minerals smelted into steel. Strong enough to blunt a blade but light enough to allow them to move as graceful as a Hytopian dancer. And if you have a real keen eye, you can just make out a layer of dark mail woven tightly underneath, like a shadow wrapped around them. And atop their shoulders is dyed, boiled leather.”

“Why boiled? What’s wrong with plain leather?”

He gave me a disappointed look. “Boiling leather hardens it and makes it thrice as strong as regular leather. I thought you initiates knew that?”

I cautiously shook my head, feeling rather stupid for not knowing. Then another thought dawned on me, and I blurted before I could catch myself from speaking. “But wouldn’t that cause too much noise? The mail and plate, I mean. You said they are silent killers.”

“Yes, it would, if it were anyone else, I’d say you would be right, but not them. Their armor is different to yours and mine. It’s crafted by a bygone secret art, some say sorcery, known only to their smiths how to work the onyx ore. After all, Draenarian foragemasters descend from a mixed line of Dwarven men who wedded Hylian maids ages ago. Or so the story goes. The very same ancient metalworkers who forged the weapons of Hylia’s Heroes that battled the first Calamity. If you believe that sort of silly tale.” He then let out a longwinded sigh as if recollecting the events of the battlefield against the Calamity as if he were there himself. “And with that, they left their heirs only a remnant knowledge of the ancient arts on how to craft such finery. One such art was their ability to weave spells into the fabric of their tunics and mail, so that their movements are as silent as a shadow.”

“And what happened to the Dwarves?” I asked. The story intrigued me.

He blinked. “Pardon, what, say again?”  

“I said the dwarven smiths. Why aren’t there any now? Where did they disappear to?”

“Who’s to say they vanished?” he said, sighing with a shrug. “I’ve never navigated the abandoned mines hidden down in the depths of the Dying mountains, have you? From what I’m told they built tunnels and cities so vast that, during their day they were as busy as an anthill. All for their fabled Crystalline ore too. A rare metallic stone that the whole world was envious of, and a blessed mineral left to us by her holiness herself.

“Magic steel they called it, as rare as any and had no rival on the battlefield.” He sighed wistfully as if he wanted a sword forged from the mythical metal himself. “But, that was a very long time ago and there’s only a handful of blades and shields left in all the world that are crafted from it. My goddess, with just a mere dagger made from Crystalline a man could buy half the southern fields of Bountiful with it.” He shook his head for final remembrance and sighed even deeper than before. “But alas, those old mines are all abandoned now and for good reason too. They say none who dare venture into their deep chasms ever return.”

The horse neighed and snorted as if to confirm his story. Finn let out a cough before landing another perfectly placed wad of spit to the side of the road. “But, to answer your question, I guess the truth of it is that I suppose they died out it would seem. Nobody knows entirely why they did, but it probably had to do with the dilution of their bloodline when mixing with Hylians…and with no longer having women of their own, the dilution continued.” He said with a shrug yet again not before shaking his head of all of it with a bah. “But who knows really, this was ages and ages ago. Maybe they didn’t exist at all and Draenarians just need an excuse to explain their shorter stature compared to us.”  He smiled, then remembered to take a gander at me from helm to boot before chuckling and slapping his knee. “Say, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you might have a little dwarven blood yourself,” he said poking fun, taking notice of my height compared to his. I was only a few inches shorter than he was, but I guess that was enough to jest. I’ll let him savoir this victory, the sooner we get back to Romani’s and the others, the better.

As we were about trek on, the retinue of retainers, men at arms, landed knights and Draene elites took a stiff halt at the entrance of the square, barring the way. The Dragoons then took formation to the front of the procession and guarded their liege’s coach. In doing so they lined up and flared out their round, robust shields in a show of strength.

Finn’s eyes flicked about, studying the small army now before him. “And take hard look at those shields while you’re at it. They may look small, but don’t let their size deceive you of their lethalness. In Draene, they perform the art of war differently than you boys trained down here at the capital. The Dragoons prefer bucklers, you see. And they're not just for defense either. They're cleverly lined with a sharpened edge, used as a weapon in close combat. So, if by some dumb luck their dirk doesn’t get the chance to carve you up a red smile from ear to ear, their shields will surely finish the job. Only when it’s too late, up close and personal does the poor fellow who is up against them discovers the bloody details of their demise. That's what they're known for, you know? Fighting up close and taking out their enemies without so much a sound in the pitch of night.”

“After all, their whole armor, it's not just made for battle; it's made for stealth, for assassination. Some say they even do it better than the Yiga outlaws.” He then let out a grunted laugh of disdain and disgust. “I suppose that would make sense for their ilk. After all, what better way is there to hunt ruthless killers than to delve into their sick twisted minds yourself. Of all the soldiers of the Stonelands, Dragoons bare the same standard as their liege who leads them and are his personal guard.”

Stewing on his words, I glanced at their sun kissed banner streaming proudly in the breeze, watched as it flapped and whipped against the backdrop of the bright blue sky. A burning black serpent guarding a golden, triangular stone.

Finn grunted at the sight, almost disgusted. “Goddesses, I can’t stand them. They are nothing but a show boating lot that is always looking to cause trouble. Especially with us Royals. You best steer clear from them while they are in the city.”

My tongue suddenly tied and went sour remembering the scrap I got into the night before defending Sven and Orin. So, more Dragoons were coming tonight, great, just what I needed now.

Finn scoured the sky above with a hand over his brow, noticing the sun beyond a thin veil of soft, white tufts, hinting at the hour and discerned its position as easily as one might read an hourglass. “Well, damn, we’ll never make it back to Romani’s moving at this snail’s pace. Better for it if we tie of this old girl to a post and move on foot. Besides, I’d like to avoid this rift raft if we can. Eagles make poor bed fellows with snakes. Best we hurry out of here before we’re seen.”

Acknowledging his concerns, I replied, "Yes, m ‘lord." Urging the mare forward with a quick flick of the reins, we moved towards a bustling rotunda. The area was teeming with townsfolk, foreigners and an assortment of their hitched transports: wagons, carts, horses, mules, and even dunemadarys. While I had never personally ridden one, I had long harbored a desire to try. My father often spoke of the dunemadarys, recounting tales from nomadic copper-skinned traders years back he’d met along the treacherous roads of the Ivory Pass during the war.

It is said that they are the only mounts suitable for the arid wastes and highlands of the far east. Unlike the Western Wastes beyond the Gerudo highlands near Holodrum who ride mammoderms, these outsiders relied solely on dunemadarys. Father said the days and nights where these wanderers hail from are the most unforgiving in all the world. Daily they are forced to brave raging thunderclaps which could scorch a man alive and defend against wind swept sands that blistered the skin. You’d be lucky if your horse didn’t keel over dead within three days riding there he always said. However, a dunemadary, with its tough hide and ragged fur can fend off such harsh conditions. Not to mention their significant humps – which also served as saddles – could withstand the intense drought and whatever the Dead Wastes threw at them. Their humps were their lifeline, their secret to surviving days without water in the broiling desert sun.

We disembarked and wouldn’t you know it, the square was so crowded it was nearly impossible to find a spare post to tether our horse to. I guess everyone else got the hint before we did that they should clear the way for the influx of lordly guests and their bannerman who were now flooding the capital.

“Looks like we’ll have to find another way. If we stay here, we’re likely to miss the whole ceremony and feast.” Finn motioned with a stiff lean, or was it his gait that bothered him when he walked? Hard to be certain. He guided us toward a nearly concealed path that snaked behind a series of buildings. Once we rounded the corner though, the recognition of where we were hit me. I nearly forgot this place existed. Why do we have to go through here?

“Let’s move our feet quickly, I don’t want to be seen here anymore than you do.” Finn added with a command, clasping the gold brooch of his crimson cloak that fastened to his pauldron.

Finn and I navigated a narrow detour that led us through a less than reputable part of town. A shadowy lane notorious for its nocturnal activities and dubious pursuits to put it mildly. Here, in the hidden recesses overshadowed by towering edifices and far from prying eyes of those who take the main roads, lay an alley rife for nighttime escapades.

The hidden road was shielded from the vigilant watch of the guards as they often turned a blind eye to the dealings going on here and it was too far away from the scornful gaze of the nobility for them to care either. Although mostly out of sight and mind of us townsfolk, everybody still knew what went on there. And that is how it earned its affectionate name from the people: Alur Allure, or commonly known as, Allure Alley.

Navigating through Allure Alley was like threading a seemingly unending, winding labyrinth. While not particularly confined, the distance from end to end of this its path was almost legendary. The length nearly spanning the entire breadth of the city from one curtain wall to the other. Every few steps, there lay another establishment, each with its own dubious reputation. Their storefronts, though often dimly lit at night or discreetly marked during the day, hinted at the illicit trades they peddled behind those draped curtains and closed doors. It wasn’t until halfway through this slump we were met by the most unsavory business of them all, the notorious Red Inn. A place where the promise of rest was often a mere pretense.

As we made our way past it was hard to miss the trio of maids out front, draped in delicate silk and satin gowns that left little to the imagination. They lazily lounged, casting seductive glances at what few passersby there were in hopes of luring patrons into their dwelling. Finn chortled, catching me stare as we marched closer and closer. “It’s okay to look lad.”

“Beg your pardon sir?” I cleared my throat, following him in formation.

“You heard me. It’s quite alright. You wouldn’t be the first prospect who got weak in the knees at the sight of a fair maid, especially at your age.”

He can’t be serious that I would ever? Is he? I swallowed and spoke up. “It’s…It’s not that m ‘lord captain, it’s just that I—”

“Aye yes, we all swear an oath to never bed maidens outside the bonds of marriage, tis true. But—"

He then waved his hand outstretched across my chest before I could reply, and bellowed out a full belly laugh, halting our stride. “--Good goddess, if we gave up every good man to the Weeper who broke his holy vows, the royal family would be guarded by poes not guardsmen.” He smiled again and leaned to whisper in my ear. “Just don’t make it a habit and have the decency to keep it out of the eyes and ears of the noble folk and you’ll be fine.”

“No, I would never sir.” I protested modestly.

“Ah? What then? You’re not one for the ladies?"

“No, what I mean, sorry m’lord captain, what I mean to say is—”

Before I could elaborate, Finn paused and took a moment to size me up, as if seeing me for the first time. The realization dawned on him. “Ah, I see…the princess.” He smirked mischievously. “You've set your sights high, haven't you?” he shook his head wearing that same grin. His laughter, genuine and hearty, filled the alleyway. “Well, you can forget all about that dream, boy. You might as well wish to sprout wings and soar the heavens to meet her there than the likes of that ever happening. Mayhaps, if you can’t shake the dream, guard her heart from a distance, for some hopes are best left unattained.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” I tried to explain but the words wouldn’t form no matter how much I tried to fumble them out.

“Ah, so honor compels you, then? I see….You can tell yourself that all you want but the shake in your boots at the mention of her gave you all away.” He shrugged a laugh. “For your sake I hope in battle you’re not so easy to read or your enemies will be the death of you.”

I frowned under my helm, stepped cautiously to contest but he waved his hand for me to silence instead. “But, don’t worry, your secret is safe with me, lad. Nobody needs know, especially not the princess. Now, let’s get a move on.”

As we pressed on through Allure Alley, the distinct features of the trio from the Red Inn began to stand out as we got closer: the first girl possessed a fuller, more voluptuous frame, while another was slender as the rail she sat on. Each girl beautiful in their own right and would appeal to many a man but the youngest of the three who stood behind them had a harmonious blend of the two and was just right by my taste. If I had to have an opinion that is. Not that I did, of course. It was just an observation.

Daylight seemed to mark a slower tempo for business in the alley, which made sense. The secrets of this corner of the city were best kept under the veil of night and whatever deeds done here would be off better suited during the hour of the poe than risk the judging eyes of the sun….and naturally, with us being the only souls alive within a league of the alley, the trio immediately swayed their hips toward us and wouldn’t you guess it, just my luck, one of the three girl’s gazes locked on me. The youngest one. I could feel her hundred-yard stare burn right through my armor like parchment.

The girl wasn’t uncomely by no means, quite the contrary in fact, was rather beautiful. She had strawberry blonde hair that braided all the way to her waist and was blessed by a faint mist of freckles that sprayed across her cheeks. She may have been younger than the other two, but she was at least a couple seasons older than me, but not by much. The sudden realization of that made me sort of sad as I reflected on the reality of her world.

Not everyone was lucky enough to dance in the glow of the city's grandeur. And not all was well in this city as the nobility would like us all to think. Some danced on its edges, trying to survive. I would have offered her a free rupee if I had any, but I was a peasant boy myself. She had an innocent look in her eyes. Pretty hazel eyes and if I didn’t know better or saw her anywhere else, would have figured to be a maiden for sure. Though I knew otherwise.

Were I richer, I would have gladly given her a rupee, not for her services but to offer her respite from having to cater to the desires of distasteful men, even if it only spared her just an hour. Hell, if I could, I’d free her from her work. But those were dreams and I knew better.

 She smiled at me again and walked toward us, eyes fixed on me, and I suddenly remembered my father once telling me that some ladies fancied this avenue of work, believe it or not. So, who was I to judge what was in her favor or not. So, I thought it best to keep my feelings to myself and try to follow my captain’s lead.

Though as much as I didn’t want to participate in her advances, I could hardly blame her for want of trying. And boy, did she approach me with much determination. Thrice I had to gently loosen her hold around me when she tried to pull me closer as I walked by. I could feel Finn's sidelong glances and smirking amusement, which only intensified my unease.  Was he enjoying me struggle? Was this some sort of game?

And if I had been any other man, her smile may have won me over. But, even still, I was shy as could be when her fingers traced the lines of my armor. What courage I had as Helmsworth earlier melted away and suddenly I was a timid boy in training again. I found myself trembling like an autumn leaf, though I fought hard not to show it.

I’ve never even kissed a girl before, let alone had to entertain the thought of bedding love to one. Never in all my life had such notions crossed my mind, yet her enticing gestures and soft whispers of seduction brought them forth more swiftly than I could fend them off. But, when these fleeting daydreams of fantasy emerged, it wasn't her face I saw between blinking eyes. It was another girl. A sudden, hot blush scorched my cheeks, urging me to dismiss the unchivalrous thoughts unbecoming of a knight.

But what struck me most of all was the aroma of her perfume – not overly potent but enough to draw one in. If I’d known better, I’d say it was brewed by a spell to entice the senses of those she’d lure to her abode. It was an intricate dance of roses and wildflowers, an unexpected fragrance amidst the musk of the alleyway.  Luckily, for me though, I was already under the spell of another. And her magic was much stronger. So, I did what any true knight would do and politely made my intentions known to not pursue her.

This girl was persistent though, I give her credit for that. And why wouldn’t she be? It wasn’t uncommon for lonely soldiers to pay a visit at such a place after dark in search of comfort or to relieve their worries from a long day’s work fulfilling drills, patrols or goddess forbid, combat. Why else would the pair of us be marching through here? I couldn’t judge her for thinking otherwise. Even I knew that.

Finally, Finn had enough of the farse and all their approaches. “Bugger off you. This lad has no need for your kind of company, pillow maid. Go find another drunken bloke to lose your chemise to. Can’t you see this one is busy?” She paid him no mind and was waiting for me to say otherwise. The words were at the tip of my tongue when Finn’s temper rose to his temples and in a reddened fluster he growled like a wolf. “Are you listening to me? He is a soldier of the Royal Guard! Now stand aside before I shut down your shop for good.” That did the trick. Her freckled cheeks turned to milk and the fright in her eyes said it all. With that she and her fellow ladies scurried back to the porch of their establishment.

“There we are Link, see, nothing to it. All these girls needed was a firm direction and told when to say no. But let us hurry, because come sundown this place will be awash with drunkards, would be sell-swords and ne’er-do-wells all looking to scratch an itch. The path will be thick as a swamp too and we’ll never make it in time to the others. Now, let us be—"

“—So, what’s your problem!?” Came the sudden remark of a disheveled man sauntering out from the Red Inn.

“See what I mean?” Finn stated about to slowly turn to the voice.

The man that staggered out wore a leather jerkin over a threadbare doublet, some trousers, soldier’s boots and had scraggly hair across his face like he just climbed out of bed. “What’s the matter? You don’t like girls?” He said, now shoving past the pillow maid who approached me earlier, nearly causing her to stumble over the deck. The poor girl frantically covered her cleavage in the confrontation, her cheeks going rosy again as a hydromelon by the slip. It was then I realized that this man was speaking to me, not Finn. I slowly turned. Finn took notice of him first and already beat me to it.

The man was now standing in the middle of the alleyway, arms crossed and wearing a sneaky grin as if he had all the secrets of the world tucked up his sleeve. He then lifted his head to face the plump, brunette girl who was older and barked a command. “My surcoat and armor please. I think I had my fill of you for today.” He laughed and then blew a sloppy kiss to one of the other more, timid girls standing in the doorway of the pillow house. “I know she had her fill of me, ain’t that right, sweetling?” he snarked, chortling to himself while rubbing the bridge of his bent nose before hollering back to me again. The girl backed away inside and covered herself with some drapes. “So, you deaf or what? I said, do you like girls?”

I didn’t say a word, and couldn’t help but glare from behind my helm, trying to hold my composure, waiting for what Master Finn would do first. After all, it wasn’t my place to cause problems with these sorts of rift raft.

"Well, are you going to answer him or what?” called out another man. Unlike his friend, this one was garbed in a black surcoat that covered his leather armor underneath, springing to his feet from a wall he'd been leaning against in the shadows behind us. His tone thick and laced with confrontation.

After chancing a glance at both our armor, he soon realized who we were. “My, oh my, Port, you just know how to pick em, don’t you?” he questioned his companion. Next thing I knew, others slithered out from the shadows of buildings and into the afternoon sun of the alley road. Where did they come from?

“You know me captain, nothing but the best.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” He took a small stroll closer, his eyes sizing up the both of us. “And what do we have here, eh? And of all places too. I’m starting to like this city more by the minute it would seem.” He said to himself, inching toward us.”

 "Looks like a flock of eagles found themselves in the wrong part of town, m'lord," another chimed in, rounding the side of the first. This one’s voice had a peculiar timbre to it, like a beaver gnawing on wood, holding a whimsical note akin to a whistle.

They now blocked our path on all sides. “Maybe they’re lost?”

"And such a small flock at that," the leader retorted, his grin uglier than the scar marring his cheek. His shoulder-length black hair hung in untidy, oily strands. "I wouldn't have pegged your kind to frequent this charming corner of town,” he said as a quiet laugh escaped his grin. “You boys are just full of surprises."

"Eagles don't fly in flocks," I found myself responding, my words taking flight as I fixed a hard gaze on the gang's ringmaster.

Master Finn straightened, adjusting his surcoat while smoothly fixing his cloak over his shoulder to be in a more defensive position, so it wouldn’t get in the way. He'd been limping earlier but now concealed it as the unsavory group closed in. Seven of them now were circling us like vultures.

“It’s alright lad, no need to worry yourself about this lot,” Finn assured me, his gaze dancing between each grimy man before finally resting on their leader. "But the lad is right, you know.” He said to the pack of troublemakers. “Eagles don't fly in flocks. They don't need to." He cocked his head slightly, his stare intensifying. "They’re dangerous enough alone."

“"Is that right, old bird?" The leader scoffed, spitting a glob of snot onto Finn's boot. "Why don't you prove it—"

A moment of silenced passed and Finn's eyes dropped to his boot to observe the slimy gloss of spit that swirled with a myriad of colors in the light. His gaze slowly traveled back to the ringleader, a smile playing on his lips. The others were subtly closing in. One man behind their commander toyed with the hilt of his sheathed blade, while another who had previously lounged against a wooden fence assumed a more aggressive stance. He tightened his gloves which had finger slits for grip and leveled a penetrating gaze at me. Things were escalating rapidly.

Sweat trickled down my forehead, yet, to my surprise, Finn remained composed amidst the taunts.  “Look, we have no quarrel with you and if you just stand aside, we’ll be on our way.”

“And what way is that I wonder?” Another interjected from behind us. I repositioned myself, ensuring we weren't vulnerable from any direction, though I refrained from escalating the situation further by drawing my blade or assuming a fighting posture. Despite the day's warmth, a chill without wind shivered through the alley.

“That is of no concern to yours.” I answered back before Finn could chide me. “Quiet boy, I’ll handle this.” Returning his gaze back up to their leader, it was now apparent that these were off duty soldiers, but they weren’t from around here. Though they displayed no sigil, it was nigh apparent who they were and where they were from. Draenarian Storm crows.  They had to be. Who else could be so vile?

The leader perked up and spoke again. “Now that I think of it, don’t you two Royals have somewhere you need to be?” He devilishly smiled and scratched his chin as if he were to about to jape. “That’s right….the Queen’s Meadow. I remember now. Must have slipped my mind.”

“Must have.” Answered back Finn sternly, never losing his gaze on his movements as the leader paced slowly in a circle around us. “Though that isn’t hard to believe.”

A subordinate bristled at Finn’s tone “What’s that you say? You dare mocking my lord?”

With a dismissive wave, the leader signaled his men to ease off. “It’s alright. Let the old man bark. Seeing it is he has no bite.”

The first man from the Inn spoke up again to his commander. “So, what do you think m ‘lord? Should we let them go?”

“I don’t know, Port, should we?” The leader’s eyes, sharp and calculating, didn’t waver from ours. “What do you think Rockwell?” he said turning to ask another. “Should we let them go?”

All the while a fourth goon who seemed to relish the idea of unsheathing his dirk, flashed a sinister smile. “I say we teach them a lesson on manners. Teach them what happens when they cross the likes of us.”

I scowled under my helm and Finn’s eyes continuously darted around, keeping track of each of their movements as they tip toed closer and closer. “Go ahead”. Finn flexed. “Go ahead and skin it. Whisper that blade from its sheath and see what happens.” Finn growled again. “You’ll be choking on that knife.”

Rockwell cackled from behind. “Are you blind old man, can’t you count? You are two and we are seven.”

Finn’s retort was swift and biting. “Don’t think there’s safety in numbers here. I can take on ten of you, even without the boy.” With that, he braced himself, kicking up dust in the alley.

Port shook his head wearing that same slimy grin. “Yeah, maybe fifteen years ago you might have stood a chance, but now?” he bellowed out a laugh and continued. “You can hardly stand. Face it, you’re living in the shadow of a man you once were. That warrior you remember is long gone. All is left is a sad, dried-up old man who can hardly walk straight.” His jests were met with guffaws from his comrades, who exaggeratedly mimicked the uneven stride they’d observed in Finn’s walk earlier.

Finn snapped back, unfazed by their taunts. “Well, if you’re so sure and feeling lucky, why don’t you give it a try and see for yourself. I dare you.” I tightened my grip on my weapon, readying myself to guard his flank.

Just as the tension threatened to erupt into violence, the leader motioned his men to silence. He shook his head. “You royals, you think you’re so much better than everyone else because you lift the princess’s skirts and carry the king’s shit all day. What do you know of combat? When’s the last time you drew blood old man? How long has it been?”

Rockwell then spoke up sarcastically after getting a better look of Finn’s dead eyed stare. “I don’t know m ’lord, maybe we ought to leave this old man be. After all, If I remember right, he’s their great war hero, didn’t you know? He fought against the rebellion.”

“Really now? Is that right?” The young commander’s eyes widened with sarcastic surprise. “Rockwell tells me you’re a great hero of a bygone era?” he said mockingly. “What was it again?” He questioned aloud, scratching the side of his head. A moment came and went, and he suddenly snapped his fingers and pointed toward Finn in recollection. “Oh, I remember now, the Battle of Burntwood…. Or was it the Massacre of Burntwood? Funny, I always seem to mix them up. “He finished wearing a slimy grin.

Finn’s reaction was visceral. He visibly recoiled, teeth grinding in audible fury.

“Easy, old fella, I wouldn’t want you to break a blood vessel now.” He taunted, desperately trying to hold in the laughs.

The mention clearly struck a nerve, and I noticed his fists clenching hard enough for knuckles to whiten. What was this Battle of Burntwood?  What could have happened back then to stir such a tempest inside of him?

And just as I braced myself for the inevitable clash of ringing steel, master Finn relaxed his posture. “Look, I don’t have time to shoo away crows,” he said, and a breath of calm passed over him. “We have somewhere we need to be like you said, so if it is no trouble to you, we’d like to be on our way and continue this another day.”

“Well, you got trouble old bird.” Said one of the goons behind his leader. “Too late for that.”

Their leader also shook his head in disbelief that Master Finn could think he could walk away. “I’m sorry, but did I just hear you right? Crows, was it?” The man let out a scornful chuckle and raised his eyes to meet my lord’s again. “You must be going blind in your old age and mistaken us for somebody else. My apologies, let me clarify for you.” He stepped even closer and they were just a longswords length apart now. 

“We aren't some low-level gargoyles that waste their days atop mountain peaks, chasing wind and shadows. If you want trouble with that sort, you’ll have to look for Stone Crows. No, Sir, we are Draene’s finest. Perhaps, you may have heard of us,” he boasted, puffing out his chest. With deliberate flair, he used both hands to loosen the top of his surcoat to reveal the crest emblazoned on the leather jerkin beneath. A warning to all who’d dare come against them.

“We are the fiery serpents of the north and the shining flame that guards the realm.” He said proudly.

“All that, eh?” Finn retorted. "The esteemed reputation of you and your brothers grandeur might've eluded me. Forgive me.” he said with a smirk of his own to match the smug grin their leader had.

The leader’s face soured into a frown. “Then how about I jog your memory—”

But before knives could be drawn one of their own spoke up first. “M ‘lord, wait! Perhaps we should let the old man go.”

The leader took a step back and glanced partially over his shoulder to consider.

“He did serve the crown faithfully, after all. Even I can respect the deeds of old men from time to time.” The others laughed in unison at his sarcastic suggestion.

“Alright then, a parlay it is.” The leader conceded, stepping back. “Okay sir, it seems my good man Rockwell suggests I should grant you leave to go. Very well, fine, you may go your way. But, know this, if you disrespect us again, you won’t be so lucky. It'll take hell of a lot more than my men to hold me back."

“I’ll try and remember that for next time.” Finn shrugged uncaringly.

"Make sure you do."

And with that we were just about to step away before being barred to stop again. This time it was Port who stood in my way, his arm separating me from Finn. Finn was already several paces ahead before realizing to turn back around to see what the holdup was.

“And just where in demise’s hell you think you’re running off to? Hmm?”

I stood back confused. What is with these guys?

Port asked again ever louder this time. “Your master may have forgotten who we are, so he is excused to go, but you on the other hand know exactly who we are. Ain’t that right?”

I didn’t say a word, unsure what I should say. Finn also remained silent.

“We heard tall tales of a lad that jumped and attacked one of our own last night who was off duty, minding his business down at the Dragon’s Flagon. He and a couple other cowards. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”

I didn’t say anything.

He screwed up his face. “In fact, come to think of it, he matches your exact description. What are the odds of that, I wonder?”

“Slim to none I’d wager.” Concurred the leader. All eyes were targeting me now. I could feel their penetrating stares melt my armor away.

At that moment, I realized what this confrontation was truly about. However, I held my tongue. While I wasn't afraid of these thugs, I didn't want to act hasty, even worse, risk upsetting Finn.

Port’s temper flared. “Don’t you dare and deny it. We know it was you!”

“I don’t know Port.” Rockwell teased, stepping up beside him. “He seems mighty dangerous if you ask me. Maybe we ought to let him go too.”

Port sneered at the idea, but the leader played into the jest. “Yeah, you better watch out. He might transform again and go all wild lynel on us like he did to Farga and the others.”

The gang erupted into a chorus of laughter and I remained on guard.

Port leaned over to size me up. “Link was it? Ah, yes, I remember now. That’s definitely what they said his name was. That’s you, right?”

I stayed silent, but the dead lingering air only confirmed his suspicions.

“They said you might’ve been brave enough to think you can wander off alone with only just a fellow guardsman to have your back, but I didn’t think you were actually stupid enough to do it.”

“That’s enough” commanded Finn during the confrontation. “Your game ends here.”

“Who said anything about this being a game? He spilt blood of one of our own, so we’ve come to return the favor. Blood for blood. That’s only fair. So, stand aside old man and let justice be done or may the depths of hell rise.”          

One of the girls from the pillow house came out to the alleyway to intervene as things reached a fever pitch. “Please, no bloodshed here! We don’t want any trouble--”

That did it. The leader wasn’t about to be told what to do and most certainly wasn’t about to take lip from some woman. In a flash of fury, he reached out to the girls face mid-sentence to shut her up and tossed her on her backside in the middle of the road.

Finn flinched and growled curses at him. “You swine of a serpent!” That pissed me off too but I also didn’t want to escalate matters worse.

The other ladies rushed to help their distraught friend on the ground and led her back inside. And just as I thought Finn hade enough, out of nowhere, a deafening thunderclap echoed above, and a dark grey cloud split and dumped a cold drizzle upon us. Everyone was taken aback, especially the other girls on the sidelines watching the confrontation unfold. Their nail-biting gazes turned to frantic scurrying as they dashed into the inn to avoid the downpour.

Finn glanced to his fists as if nothing mattered in all the world and as the skyfall drenched his cloak and armor he glanced back up and whispered. He had enough, I could tell. Speaking so faintly, I could barely hear what he said. Almost in slow motion I watched the water drip down his dark hair, bounce off his pristine cloak to form puddles on the cobblestones.

“I love the smell of wet air.” He said, stiffening ever so slightly. “Reminds me of home….of old times….smells like a good fight.”

Oh, goddess no!

And with that he lunged forward, sword drawn and ready to kill but before he could land his strike, he suddenly fell crashing to one knee. He screamed so loud I thought it was another lightning bolt. What could have only been a searing pain surged through him, causing his sword to slip from his fingers and clang onto the ground. All the others drew their blades, ready to attack but pulled back the moment he fell. Immediately I rushed to Finn’s aid.

“No, It’s his leg! It flared up again!”

“Look lads, the blind, limping eagle sprained his wing! His baby chick in now defending him.” Rockwell scoffed, adding to the amusement of the others.

They all mocked in unison, their laughs surrounding us as I tried to help Finn back up from the agony that had him face first, paralyzed, and useless on the muddy alleyway.

“So, much for the great war hero. I’ve seen more useful stable boys.” Port snorted. “I’d almost feel sorry for him if he wasn’t so pathetic.”

Rockwell didn’t let up, matching his taunts. “Look at him, he can’t even hold his sword. The hero knight of Meadowbrook, they said. The smasher they once called him! The man of iron himself….” He shook his head, grinning. “A man of mud if you ask me.”

Port howled. “Hey, I know! Mud knight! Yeah, that’s what we should call him! How does that sound? Hence forth you will be dubbed as Mud Knight! It has a great ring to it too! Almost legendary if you ask me!” the others guffawed again at his ill jest.

“Well, do you like that, Mud Knight?” Rockwell asked mockingly.

Ignoring them all, I reached over to help him. “M’lord Captain, are you alright—”

“Get your damn hands off of me!” he said, using all the force he could muster to rise back to one knee to shove me away. His only good knee. “I don’t need your pity. Save your sympathy for someone who wants it!”

“But m’ lord captain—”

“I said, back off!”  I had no choice but to pull away. The anger in his face said it all. I quickly realized, it wasn’t the pain of his leg that cause him so much distress, it was the pain inflicted on his pride.  To be such a noble knight back in his day only to be brought low was almost all he could bare. But, nevertheless he managed to rise back up to his feet.

Their leader shouted to us. “I’ve seen enough. Get out of here! Both of you! I don’t have the stomach for it anymore. There’s no honor in beating cripples.” Turning to face his men, he spoke a command. “Let’s go. Our liege will be wanting us at the meadow too. We can see more of this sad show play out there for all to see.”

“Yeah, and at least there we can watch with drinks in our hands.” Another chimed merrily.

And with that they all turned away except for one. Me and Finn also began to make our way away from them before Rockwell shouted a final say of his own. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” the man boasted, kicking Finn’s sword that lay in the alley. The blade skidded and rattled disrespectfully as it slid over to our feet where we stood. Rockwell menacingly smirked as I grabbed it for Finn. I’ll never forget that ugly, crooked, satisfied smile.

“Thanks lad,” Finn said, taking the sword from me. He wiped it on his cloak and sheathed it before pulling me away from staring at the unsavory group walk away in the other direction. “Let’s get the hell out of here. We wasted enough time.”

I barely heard what he was saying, I was so enraged by those jerks blatant dishonor.

“Hey, are you listening to me boy? Romani’s, now, we have to go!”

I nodded and faced him, allowing him to lead the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at Romani’s we saw Athelon lining up the lads in tight formation out front. They were just about to march to head to the festival grounds when the sight of us trudging over the hill caught Athelon’s eye.

The gruffy commander had them stand at attention in the rain and shouted over to us. “About damn time you made it. I was thinking you both deserted and were half-way to the siren shores of the ousted Isles by now.”

“What’s at the Ousted Isles?” I whispered to Finn as Athelon continued his berating.

“Pirates. And lot’s of them” Finn whispered back watching Athelon march back and forth continuing his speech that neither of us were listening to.

“Why would we want to see pirates?” I asked curiously, stiff at attention.

“Because most of them are women.”

“But we have women here. Why would I have to—”

“--One day when you’re a man and your handsome looks escape you, you’ll understand to take what you can get.” Finn said before cutting off Athelon with a cough. “Are you done, you old goat?”

Athelon blinked and spun to face him. “I may be done, but his father will only be getting started. The princess will be expecting—”

At the sudden mention of her, I suddenly remembered an urgent matter. “Commander,” I said, taking a knee and cutting him off. His face tightened, in shock that I would be so bold to interrupt as superior officer. “My apologies, m’lord, but there’s a matter of the upmost importance that I must take care of before I can step foot on the Queen’s meadow. I promise once it is done, I’ll meet you all at the warrior grounds.”

The brow to his only good eye raised but I continued before he could chastise me. “I made a promise to her majesty, and I humbly ask you for your leave to fulfill it.”

“Then what the hell are you still kneeling in the mud for? Get a move on!” he shouted; his patience wearing thin as a veil. Wasting no time, I rose and made haste away from them, back to union bridge where I needed to be. How could I have forgotten!? I chided myself. I only knew her for one day and already I was screwing up. She asked me to fetch the boy and bring him along with me. At this point all I could do was pray that he was there waiting for me still. Ugh, the crowds, how will I ever beat the crowds to make it in time. So much was happening and there’s so little time. And to think, in just a couple hours I’ll be fighting for my life in the lists. I wonder, will she root for me after she finds out the truth of who I am? No, I mustn’t let her know yet. I have to keep it a secret, until I can figure out how to tell her. Oh, but how? That was a lot easier said than done. Ugh, why me? Time was running out and so was I.

Authors Notes: Hello everyone, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as we see a bit of insight into the dynamics of soldier life in Hyrule.  On the next one the stakes rise sky high and Zelda and Link are once again reunited. But, will everything turn out as we all hope? Find out next time! But, in the meantime, since it's my birthday today, what would be an awesome present to me, which doesn't take much from you but means the world to me is if you can leave a comment on the story. It helps me a bunch! Thanks, and stay well wherever you are in Hyrule friends. 

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why we failed one-hundred years ago pt 7

A kiss for a princess

“I’ve heard just enough out of you.” grumbled a large, burly man, shoving Jun into the shadows of an alleyway near Union Bridge.

"I have them, don't worry! They're just not with me. I hid them in a ditch near the tourney grounds, I swear!" Jun squeaked, wincing as he faced the rain with one eye open.

Another man, slender but no less intimidating, hoisted Jun up and slammed him against a brick wall. "No more excuses! You know what's at stake if you don't deliver on time."

His friend joined in the reprimand. "Hand them over, boy. We don’t have time for games. If you want to keep that pretty face unmarred, you better listen."

"Hey, let him go!" I found myself instinctively shouting. "He’s just a kid!"

The two ugly looking goons craned their neck to face me but maintained their grip on Jun. “Hmph, I can say the same for you, Pint Size.” sneered the larger one.

His sinister companion barked at me as well. “What did you say to us?”

Unfazed by his intimidation, I answered, “Did I stutter? Or, are you just stupid? I said, leave him be or—

“--Or what?” The burly man let Jun go for his friend to hold, stomping closer to size me up in the dim alley.

But before he could escalate, his friend reached for his shoulder with his other hand, yanked him back to whisper to where I could barely hear. “Hey Izhi--He’s a royal guard.  We might have to cut his throat if he marks us.”

"What was that? You’re going to have to speak up!" I found myself striding closer.

Jun winced and quickly spoke. "It's, uh, nothing! Just go, both of you!" As I moved even closer, Jun seemed to plead, "Mr. Helmsworth, don’t!"

Something was up, but what? Whatever it was, I don’t have time for it. I have to deliver the boy and get back to the others and soon. Ignoring the kid I spoke again. “I said drop him.”

“Helmsworth, it’s fine! Really, no problem!" Jun insisted, more forcefully this time.

“What?” I stepped back.

The burly man flashed a grin, revealing yellow-stained teeth. "You should listen to your friend here. We were just chatting, that’s all." His eyes bore into Jun's, indicating something was not right. “No need to get riled up.”

Glancing around, still in their grip, Jun forced a smile. "Yeah, it's fine. We do this all the time. It's a game." He laughed nervously. Now, you had your fun, so let me go." The slender man looked to his companion, who nodded, and released Jun. The boy stumbled onto his knees atop the cobblestones.

Jun quickly sprang to his feet and smiled again at me to feign all is well. “See, there’s no problem.”

Very odd behavior indeed.

The brute also agreed, patting the lad on the back as a gesture of good will, though it seemed as phony as a Gerudo Voe.“Yea, there’s no problem, right? We were just, foolin’ about. Sorry to startle you Sir.”

Jun then directed them to leave. "Okay, you got what you came for. Get going, both of you. We'll talk later."

The burly man executed a sarcastic bow. “We’ll be on our way now if it’s no trouble to you.” I simply nodded as I watched them both scamper past me. The slender one shoulder checked me on his way out, but I thought it best not to reprimand him. It could escalate rapidly and besides, I had somewhere I needed to be. I don’t have time to pick fights with small time trouble such as these losers.

“Sheesh, thanks for the heads up, you know” Jun said, brushing the dirt off his worn trousers as they walked away. "If I'd known you were coming early, I would've—"

“--Early?” I snapped. “We’re late!”

"Oh, really?" He blinked, glancing up at the gray sky as a light drizzle bounced atop his brown bangs. However, in the cascade of the sun that would rarely dare peek out from behind the clouds, a thin veneer of silver I saw in his hair as well, or so I thought. I couldn't be sure, but as quickly as the few glimmering strands shone, they vanished again into the darkness of his brown locks. The boy smirked and shrugged, taking me away from his thoughts. "Well, how was I supposed to know? There's no sun! Hard to tell the time without a proper sky to navigate!"

"It's fine," I said, losing interest. I just wanted to get moving. "So, do you really know those guys?"

"Sort of," he answered, scratching the back of his head as though contemplating the right words. Odd. Just as I was about to press him for more, he went on. "They act tough, but they're really just a bunch of softies."

"Softies? You're saying that big guy with the eye patch is a softie?" Who is this kid?

"Yeah, I could've taken him, no sweat!" He threw a mock punch in the air, as if he could have dispatched them single-handedly. "Why'd you have to show up like that? I could've handled it myself. I didn't need your help."

"I'm here to escort you to the princess's pavilion, remember?" I had to remind him.

"Oh, right! I was just—"

"Just what?"

"Never mind. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." I insisted.

"It's not important. Anyway, what took you so long?" he deflected.

"I ran into a delay.”

"Uh-huh?" He gave me a skeptical look, unsure of my explanation, but pressed on. "Like what?"

"Just some local trouble. Nothing you need to worry about."

He frowned; the way kids do when they're annoyed. "So, that’s the way of it, huh? My affairs concern you, but when I ask about yours, you tell me to bugger off?"

"I didn't say bugger off," I defended.

"Well, you certainly didn't invite me over for tea to discuss it!" He said, stomping his foot.

"Ugh, fine, sorry I prodded," I said, sighing as I shrugged.” Are we square, now?”

He gave me a blank stare and suddenly his frown curled into a closed-eye smile again.

I changed the subject as we began our walk. "Anyway, what about your masks? Where are they? Weren't you going to wear them? You made such a fuss about them, and now they're gone."

"Not quite," he said, mischievously. "See, I still have mine, the princess's, and yours if you want it."

"Sure, why not," I said. No sooner had I replied than the kid whisked out the oddest-looking mask I'd ever seen. He looked ridiculous. If I showed up to the men wearing that ghastly thing, I'd never hear the end of it. And besides, she would laugh me out of her pavilion with such a travesty on my face. I'm a soldier, not a mummer. "Actually, on second thought, I'm good."

"You sure? Come on, have some fun! These sorts of celebrations are meant to be fun. The tourneys don't start for at least an hour after everyone gets settled in. Oh, I know! You're going to be a knight, right? Come on, you can't fool me. The princess might be unaware, but I can tell. You're no true guardsman, huh?" How does everyone seem to know?

"What? I am so a knight," I insisted.

"Oh, yeah, sure," he said, screwing up his face and puffing out his chest. "'Drop the boy or I'll...I'll,'" he mocked, deepening his voice to imitate mine from just minutes prior. Then he returned to his normal, happy-go-lucky self. "Come on, you can drop the act. A real guardsman would have skewered those men first and then asked questions later. Trust me, I know."

"And how would you know something like that? What knights have you ever met? What are you, like, nine or something?"

"Hey! I'll have you know I'll be ten and two in just a few months! And I've probably seen more fights than you ever have! Once, I saw a man chew off another bloke's ear over some beet pottage! Beets! A man got sliced for beets, of all things. And then there was this other time I saw a man carve up a meatmonger's belly with his own butcher's knife for selling him a couple of queer hogs."

The nerve of this kid, I thought to myself. He continued to prattle on, one example after another, as I began to tune him out. His words blurred into the mist of my thoughts as I stood there contemplating. He may have a point; it's true. I'm not yet a knight. Cutting off his incessant chatter, I finally spoke up. "Mayhaps you're right, and I'm not a knight. So, what of it? What's it to you?"

That sly grin crossed his face again—a grin that seemed to harbor a world of mischief. "Opportunity," he muttered.

"Huh?"

Clearing his throat as if about to deliver a formal proclamation, he began, "Well, I was thinking, I don't really have anywhere specific to be—"

"What do you mean?" I interrupted. "The princess invited you to bask under her pavilion. Do you realize what an honor that is? Talk about opportunity—that's a once-in-a-lifetime chance for back-alley kids like you and me. That's certainly 'somewhere to be.' I don't know what she sees in you, but you must've done something to earn her pity."

"Pft, pity? Ha! Speak for yourself," he snorted a laugh, utterly unfazed, and jabbed his thumb toward his chest. "Maybe she took pity on you! For me, it was all charm!"

My temples flared, and he quickly retreated.

"Okay, okay, I was joking. Sheesh! No need to get all hostile," the boy shrugged, and I felt myself relax a bit. "She obviously wants you around." He then muttered something so quietly I could barely catch it. "Though I can't imagine why."

"What was that?" I snapped.

"Look, just hear me out," he said, redirecting the conversation. "Let me be your squire. If you win the lists, there'll be glory for both of us. Plus, there's prize money, right? If we team up, I'm sure you'll win!"

His proposal caught me off guard. But he had a point. There was indeed prize money to be had, though only for the top contenders in each event. Those who pass the initial trials would get to participate in the main competition. Only the victors in those events would have the chance to become Royal Guardsmen—an honor granted once in a generation. And the highest honor, the Princess Guard, would go to the top champion. I paused, scratching the back of my head as I pondered his proposition.

“Well?” He asked impatiently, stomping his toe.

“Hey, what use does a kid like you need with money or glory anyways?”

“Trust me, I have my reasons. So, will you let me or not? I promise I’ll be the best squire you ever had for the next three days.”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, rubbing my arm, weigh all the possibilities and outcomes. “I already passed the prequalifying trials by becoming an initiate for the Royal guard. As their prospect I am exempt from having to enlist in the preliminaries and can join the main trials. Only men at arms from far away great houses, freelancer knights and knights-errants will be joining the lists to prove their mettle. So, why should I?”

“Because, she will be watching, duh! How dimwitted are you? And if that isn’t good enough, the bounty collected if you win could buy the best suit of armor, sword and shield money I—I mean, you can buy! That’s why!”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He was all jittery, hands animated, words spilling out full of promise. "I already have the finest sword money can buy." I said.

“Well, then you will get a nice shield, how does that sound?” he said, sweetening the deal. “And what money you don’t spend could then buy the best horse you’ll ever need.”

I spun around to ponder away from him. I gazed up into the cloudy sky as rain lightly showered my face with a faint mist. Hmm, he does have a point. I don’t have a horse and more importantly, she will be watching. Perhaps, if she thinks Sir-Helmsworth is better than Link, then maybe she will like him even more…

….Ugh, but then I have to tell her somehow. Hmm, but, It may go easier if I warm her up to the idea first. And everyone knows a good knight needs a good steed to carry him. Only a strong destrier will do. The type of stallion only great Noble Lords ride. She’ll like that I bet. Then I won’t be just some peasant boy. I mean, the heroic knight always fared well in the songs and stories. Why not me?

“Okay, I’m considering it, kid, but what experience do you have? Being a squire isn't just about looking good or basking in glory, you know. It’s a lot of hard work and I can’t risk tying my fate to someone who doesn’t know what they are doing or spooks at the first sign of trouble. For starters, you know a thing or two about horses? You're useless to me if you can't properly saddle a steed or if you don’t know the difference between a poleaxe, lance or halberd.”

“Trust me, I got this—"

“--I know, ‘no sweat’? Right?”

“Right.” He said with a smiling wink and thumbs up. Something inside me itched and said he was up to something, but what? Nevertheless, he seemed innocent enough, and he did look like he has seen a few rough winters.

“Listen, let’s just say if I do this, what of the princess? You said you’d join her for the celebrations. She’s expecting you to accompany her and her friends for the feasts, not squire for me.”

“And I will! We will both root for you after I aid you in the lists. I can even tell her all about it and what you’re doing to win and—”

“No you won’t! You won’t utter a word what I say or what I’m doing, understand?”

“Oh, okay then….Fine, I won’t tell her our secrets to victory, but we will still root for you during the grand trial, alright? And trust me, by the time I’m done sweet talking her about how well we work together as a team and how great you are, she’ll be singing your name!”

“No!” I instinctively snapped. He fell a step back. “She can’t know my name!”

“What?”

“No names yet, got it? Ugh, what am I saying? I haven’t even agreed to this farce yet.”

“Yeah, but you will, trust me. Don’t worry, if you’re so worried about it, fine, I won’t say your name, okay? Helmsworth was it? Yeah, that was it. Helmsworth is all she’ll know.”

“I guess there’s no harm in that.” I whispered, rubbing my chin in contemplation.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind knowing though. Not with the way she was staring at you all morning.” I could’ve sworn I heard him mumble, but I couldn't be sure.

“What was that?” I turned.

“Nothing, anyways, once you’re in the melee and begin the grand trial, you’ll be forced to be on your own regardless. That’s when I’ll join her and the other watchers, got it?”

Sheesh, how does he know so much. “Hey, where did you learn all this? About the trials?”

“Anyone who is anyone knows, where have you been?”

“Where have I been?" The question of the century, indeed. My head's been in the clouds, in case you haven't noticed, I wanted to say. Instead, I responded, "I've been busy preparing, that's where I've been."

He only nodded but before we could hurry off, he spoke up. “Also, sorry, it was hard to recognize you back there not wearing your helm.”

“It’s alright, let’s be off.”

“Now that I think of it, where is your helm?” he slowed his stride.

“ It’s in my rough sack. I’ll have it when we see my father at the tourney grounds. The thing is hard to see during  skyfall. So, I put it away until I need it. Anyways—”

He cut me off. “—Also, what’s your name?”

“What is with the twenty questions? We have to go!”

“Hey, if we’re going to work together, I have to at least know your real name.” he demanded.

I stopped walking ahead of him. Passersby rubbed our shoulders as they moved past us on the bridge. “Fine, but If I tell you, you have to keep it a secret. Got it?”

“Why?” He stared at me incredulously.

“Look, if you can’t, I guess I’ll find myself another squire.”

“No, wait, fine. I won’t tell.” He relented. “So, what’s the deal? What’s your name?”

“It’s Link.”

“LONK!” He blew up into laughter. Those around us turned to face the commotion.

“Shh, keep your voice down. I said, Link, not Lonk.” I waved them no mind and they all resumed their business.

“I prefer Lonk, you look like a Lonk,” he said quietly, smirking that irritating smirk again.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

"It means you look like you're more suited to tilling fields than battling foes."

“Well, I’d have you know, I am a farmer’s son…but, it’s not what you think.”

“Oh, so I am right!” he relished in his small victory.

“I said, it’s not like what you think.” I growled. “My father is the Chief Captain of the Royal Guard. I’ve been training all my life to be a warrior. What have you been doing, huh?”

“More than you know…” he mumbled back.

“Well, what then?” I demanded but he just turned to face the other way and began walking, ignoring me.

“Fine, keep your secrets. Let’s just get going.”

And with that we made straight away past Union Square and were well on our way to the northeast curtain wall to exit the city.

~~~~~~~~~~

Just ahead, the bluffs extended into the horizon, culminating far at the edge of the woods where the festival would spring to life. A colorful sprawl of tents dotted the grassy fields, and makeshift corrals had been hastily constructed. The walking space was becoming scarce as people converged onto the only road leading to the Queen's Meadow. It was a menagerie of faces and figures, a gathering of everyone you could imagine, all streaming toward the festivities. Most had the good sense to be on horseback. As for me and my would-be squire, we had to make do with the age-old method of getting places—our own two feet.

The noise of it all was something out of a dream. There was a thick insatiable feeling of excitement on everyone’s faces. The buzz was palpable; the very air thrummed with unspoken anticipation. Two days from now, with a dash of luck and a sheen of skill, I could be a Royal Guardsman. I found myself hoping, praying even, that my father would be proud and that she—would be watching.

"Hey! Hyrule to Link!" The kid nudged me, jarring my reverie. Had he been trying to capture my attention this entire time?

"You're not much for listening, huh?" he quipped.

Snapping back to reality, I replied, "What's going on?"

"Look for yourself," he pointed. "Soldiers are stationed at the perimeter fences to the nobility quarter, bottlenecking the crowd. We'll never make it at this pace. Can't you pull some Royal Guardsman string or something?" His tone oscillated between desperation and sarcasm, tempting me to react.

"I would if I could, but you know that." I sighed, "Without my helm, I'm just another face in the crowd. Besides—"

"--Then how are we supposed to make it to where the nobility sit? They won't just let us waltz in, especially not dressed like this. And what about that Royal decree you were supposed to get for us? What about my clothes? I can't meet her like this! I have a reputation, you know!”

I rolled my eyes and realized, damn, he was right. How can I be so careless. “Bullocks.”

“Bullocks? What?”

“Ugh, the carriage. With the princess’s mare, Eponair. I forgot the bundle she gave me and the decree.”

“What!? Are you joking?” The kid slapped his forehead so hard, I felt it. “You’re going to need my help, more than I thought, huh?” he mumbled. “Alright, fine. You got any ideas then?”

“Hold on, there’s still a way. But only if we see my father first. If I can get my helm, I can try to get us past the guards.”

“Well, what of my clothes? She particularly asked us for—”

“I know, I know. Sheesh give me a moment to think.”

“Well, think fast!”

His attitude wasn’t making anything better, but even still, he was starting to rub off on me. He did have a point. “Okay, I got it!” I snapped my fingers. “You’ll just have to dress as a squire now. Surely, they won’t deny you access if you accompany me as my squire, at least to see the princess. Once we greet her, she’ll just pen us up another parchment for you. A pass for us both to move freely.”

“Hmm, it could work,” he said, cupping his chin and squinting as if delving into a deep meditative state of enlightenment.

I leaned with my shoulder where to go, having enough of the japes. “C’mon you, it will work! Now, let’s go! This way.”

Navigating through a labyrinth of street vendors, we wove our way toward our destination.  Nearby, smithies from far off places labored in hopes of making a shiny rupee or two for hopefuls joining the prequalifying lists. Some were obviously lacking skill in their crude craftmanship, while others displayed promise in their work. Glistening steel hung and the battering of red-hot iron rang over the shouts of merchants in our ears.

If that wasn’t enough to excite someone, the distracting aroma of hogs basted with sweet durian roasting over spits also flared my nostrils. Not now, tonight at the feast after the first trial. You can wait, I told myself. My belly grumbled in protest. Amidst the banners fluttering in the gentle breeze, the scent of roasting quails, honeyed venison, and various wines also wafted across the tourney grounds, promising a feast as grand as any in the kingdom. The quails in particular were my favorite. Stuffed with fragrant herbs from the Bountiful, they slowly charred over hot coals, their golden-brown skins dripping juices when seared and licked by open flames almost had me drooling. By some miracle I managed to press on. Duty calls.

~~~~~~~~~~

After arriving to the main tent for the prospects, I saw fellow initiates I trained with practicing drills. Lucky for them, they wouldn’t have to enlist in the preliminaries. I technically didn’t have to either, but unlike most of them, I didn’t have any quality gear to call my own, nor a trusty steed I could rely on. Jun did have a point earlier. I could win a hefty bounty if I unseat all the other contenders and best them in the prequalifiers. Not to mention, she will be sure take notice of me then. I must look the part if I’m to be a knight. Right?

"See that tent with the captain's standard? That’s my father’s." I indicated to Jun, with the proud emblem flapping in the slight breeze. The meadow was awash in mud from recent rain, but the atmosphere was far from dampened as enthusiasm from the other initiates permeated the air.

“Come on, we need to get you into your garb," I began, but my words were soon eclipsed by a familiar authoritative voice. "And where might you be rushing off to, Link? Is this how we treat our esteemed guests who are here to see us?"

The figure belonged to none other than my father. Instinctively, I saluted, a gesture of respect ingrained deep within me. He was commander of the guard after all and soon will be mine if all goes well. And there, beside him, stood Sven, my lifelong comrade, his grin echoing my own surprise and delight.

Gathering my thoughts, I managed, "Guests, father? Do we have family visiting from the north?"

He replied with a playful tone, "No, not them. They wouldn't journey this far just for a show. I said esteemed guests, Link. Are you even paying attention?"

"He's had selective hearing all day," Jun cheekily chimed in. I shot him a sharp glare.

"And who might this young lad be?" My father's gaze shifted to Jun, inspecting him curiously with a wiggle of his mustache.

"He's...well, he's my—" I stammered.

"I'm his squire," Jun interjected confidently. "We have an agreement."

Taken aback, my father's eyes danced with amusement. "A squire? Initiates don't typically have squires until they're fully knighted."

“Father, it’s for the lists. That’s all.”

“The lists? You mean the prequalifying tourney? What for? You don’t—”

“I know, I know, but its something I just got to do. Please.” I knelt to one knee. Luckily, the boy had enough sense to do so also.

My father stewed a moment and weighed my fate. The rain had let up, but the day was still gray and he reached for a cherry-wooden pipe he cherished in his satchel, wiped it clean and packed some korok leaf before sparking a light with flint.

“Hmm…” is all he seemed to get out between puffs before I continued my plea.

“I need a horse. And all the other men in the lists will have squires to aid them in the melees and jousting. I need him if I have a hope of winning. It’s just for the next couple of days.”

“--Ah, I see,” My father smiled. “Well, as long as you stay out of trouble and keep my name out of it, I’m fine with it.” He commanded. I simply nodded and I placed a firm elbow to the side of the lad for him to do so also.

“Well, rise. Enough time you’ve done wasting here. I said you have a very special guest who I know is dear to you waiting to see you in your tent. You can thank Sven for that, by the way.”

“M-my tent?” I blinked.

Sven chimed in, "I got it set up for you since you were preoccupied. You owe me for this one!"

I nodded again and as my father began to walk away on other urgent business. “Now hurry up, it’s not polite to wait on a princess.” His face flashed a wide grin as he paused to look over his shoulder.

“P-princess!?” I mumbled. She’s here!? I could have fainted. My voice wavered, my mind a flurry of thoughts and emotions. The idea of her knowing my identity filled me with both anticipation and dread.  Jun also was perplexed how she could have been here and the only one seemed to be enjoying this was Sven. But not before my father could call him over to follow. My brother in arms patted me a good luck gesture on the back before trailing off behind my father among the winding labyrinth of tents and stalls.

She is here and in my tent of all places wanting to have an audience with me. But, how? There’s no way she could know who I am? Could she? I gulped. Then that means, if she knows I’m Link, then what will I do? Or what’s more, what will I say? She’s heard so many tall tales about me that are untrue…I must think of something. An explanation will be needed.

“You, okay?” Jun leaned over and fanned his hand over my face. I blinked again and shook my head back to reality. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.” I hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As we approached my tent I couldn’t tell if it was the mud of the traversed path slowing us down or my own nervous trudging. It felt like I was moving in slow motion. Every step weighing heavier than the last. This was it. Just underneath that flap she was waiting for me.  Oh, boy was I in for an earful. She probably feels embarrassed that I would keep such a secret from her. I know I did. Ugh, why me?

“On second thought,” I said, halting our stride. Jun hesitated. “Maybe, you should wait outside.”

“What am I supposed to do in all this rain?”

“I don’t know, be useful!” I ushered him. The boy rolled his eyes but nevertheless obeyed me. Not long after did he scurry off to where some of the older lads were practicing and getting their gear ready. And just like that, I was alone again. I gulped. Well, here goes nothing,

The rustle of the tent flap echoed faintly as I stepped inside. Before me stood a lady, enveloped in a cloak so majestic it seemed to capture the essence of the deep sea, its hues shimmering and dancing in the brazier’s glow like waves on a moonlit night. Adorned with mother of pearl, a hood worthy of royalty to be sure. And even though she had her back to me, the regality of her attire left no room for doubt. The Princess.

“Your, Highness, I can explain, I—”

“—Please do explain.” a sweet familiar voice echoed. Wait a minute?

Quicker than I could react, she twirled to face me, letting her cloak cascade over her shoulders.

“I see you have a lot of explaining to do. As do I.” The warmth of her smile could rival any sun, and her eyes glittered with delight.

Stammering, I tried to speak. “M-M--”

A soft giggle escaped her. “Well, I sure hope you remember me. It couldn’t have been that long.” She moved towards me, intending to greet me with a hug and plant a friendly peck on my cheek. But in my stunned clumsiness, our lips met instead. Goddess, save me, I was now kissing a girl. So this is how a girl’s lips feel. Tender and soft. Her eyes flew open, a deep blush painting her already flushed cheeks.

We drew back instantly by sheer reflex, the fleeting touch barely more than a moment's brush. A genuine accident. Embarrassment coursed through me, resulting in a nervous chuckle as I scratched the back of my head. The most awkward two seconds of my life.

Gathering my wits, I managed, “M-mipha, is it really you? Here? But... how?”

She shook her head, also fumbling to get back her composure. “You didn’t truly believe I’d let my long-lost best friend compete without me cheering him on, did you?”

“But, you’re so…so, you--” I took her in, from head to toe. Zora typically didn’t wear outerwear like we did, except for the modest clothing, so the cloak caught me off guard to be sure. But even still, she’s changed so much.

“--Grew up?” she finished for me. “So did you it would seem.”

“Pretty, I was going to say pretty. Sorry.”

“That’s strange thing to apologize for.” She smiled and clasped her hands together. “Well, if it’s any consolation, you’re quite handsome yourself. You’re no longer that boy with scrapped knees I healed from my memories. You’re nearly a man grown now.”  

“I’m still him. I promise.” I shook my head and offered her back a smile to match. “So, how is everyone? Bazz and the others?”

“They are well. Bazz wished he could have made it but he had to remain at the domain. But, don’t worry, me and my father will both be cheering your name when the main trial begins.”

“It means a lot for you to say that and come all this way for me. Truly.”

She chortled that shy laugh she had when we were kids. She was the same girl alright, that was no mistaking that. “Well, to be fair, we also came because of a Royal invite. I am a princess; you may have noticed? We Zora often like to show our support and we aren’t known to buck the invitation of our liege King.”

“Oh, I see.” I felt foolish now. Of course, she didn’t come all this way just for me. Duh.

We stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of the past few years hanging between us. Our childhood memories of swimming in the domain, her healing touch, our promise to always look out for each other, and the numerous memories we all had as our group of friends played back in my mind.

“But,” she started, breaking the silence, “Truth is, I am here for you, Link.”

“To root for me, as you said.” I replied, trying to sound confident.

“That’s part of it,” she replied, her voice gentle. “But I also wanted to see you, to reconnect. I wanted to see who you were now. So much has changed between us. It’s almost like meeting again for the first time. When I look into those profound ocean eyes of yours, I search for the little boy I once knew. But now? I can scarcely recognize the face of the young man standing before me.” She stepped closer to place her soothing hand on my cheek before faintly letting go.

“I promise, deep down, I’m still that boy,” I responded, nodding firmly. The atmosphere was growing heavy with unspoken words. Best to hold my tongue, lest I disrupt the fragile balance of the moment.

Her gaze shifted back to the brazier. Its glow made her eyes come alive with memories. “Our friendship... I've mourned its absence all these years.” Taking a deep breath, she faced me once more, rubbing her arms for comfort. “We spent days playing and causing mischief across the domain as children, and then, one morning, you just vanished. Muzu broke the news that you and your family had departed for Iluminar, Castle Town. You left without saying so much as a goodbye.”

“Mipha,” I started, my voice heavy with remorse. “I truly am sorry. It wasn't my call. I yearned to bid you farewell, but my father woke me in the dead of night, declaring now was the time and we had to leave. Whatever that meant.”

She nodded, wiping a tear that betrayed her emotions. “I know, Link. It's just...” She then shook her head and let out a soft chuckle, offering a sweet smile that warmed my heart. “Never mind me. Here I am, lost in yesteryears. You've bigger challenges to face.”

Her words made me blink in surprise. Suddenly trumpets blared outside. It’s starting soon, I thought.  First call for roll call for the lists to be sure.

“The grand trial of the flame awaits you!” she declared. “And Link, I believe in you. If only I could lend you my healing powers, I would...”

“I understand, Mipha,” I replied with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, just having you in my corner is more than enough.”

No sooner had the words left my lips when Jun, the boy with the most impeccable and infuriating timing, burst through the tent flap, panting as though he'd raced all the way to Hebra and back. At least he was better dressed than when I left him. I didn’t even want to ask where he gotten those clothes. No doubt somebody else will be missing them.

“Sir Link, it's time! We need to sign the scrolls of testament if we are to enter the lists,” he managed between breaths.

“I know we must but what part of wait for me outside don’t you understand?” I chided.

“Look, I’m sorry to barge in here but—Whoa, who’s this?” he said stopping abruptly, his eyes wandering around the tent before lighting up as they fell on her. It was like he saw an angel. A similar expression when he saw Princess Zelda for the first time.

“I am princess Mipha, pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said with a curtsey. “I’m an old friend of Link here. And you are?”

“I’m his squire for the next few days.” Jun said proudly.

“Oh, I see.” She then cupped her chin. “But I thought squires weren’t allowed for the Trial of the Flame? I could be mistaken though--“

“No, you’re right, they’re not.” He interrupted rudely as kids do. I glared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice. “But I’m not squiring him for that, I’m aiding him in the preliminary lists. He’s going to need me if he has any hope of winning.”

“Oh, I see…. But why are you doing the preliminary trials, Link? I thought you were exempt because you’re already a pledge. Aren’t you vouched for?”

“I am,” I started to say. “But, I need the bounty that comes with winning all the small tourneys so I can buy myself some better armor, and a noble steed of my own.”

“Well, if you need a horse, I can purchase one for you. It’s no problem if it’s a matter of money.”

“I can’t have you do that. It wouldn’t be right.” Jun gave me a hidden look of contempt that all but said, ‘Take her money, are you crazy?’. I nudged him to stand aside as I attempted to explain myself.

“Then how about a loan then?” she asked. “Then you wouldn’t have to do these lists and could just move onto the main event.”

Suddenly, I found myself stuck in a conundrum on what to tell her. “That sounds good and all, but I also need to compete in the lists because, because—”

“--Because?” Mipha’s eyes glittered with intrigue.

“Because he needs to impress the princes--!” Blurted Jun. I swear that lad’s tongue wagged fast but luckily, I was quicker. I could have nearly choked him into silence. Instead, my hands instinctively wrapped around his mouth to shush him before he could finish.

“Impress the falcon prince—" I explained. “Yeah, that’s it.” I kept the charade going. “He will be sizing up the top contenders of everyone and not just the those who make guardsmen. He may even request a retinue formed by those who succeed. I always wanted to serve under him.”

There was a moment's pause as she pieced together our antics. Luckily, she bought my explanation. “Oh, dear me. That is quite the honor.” Mipha’s eyes sparkled like they always did. “I hear Prince Arcturus is wonderful man to bannerman for. I’ll be sure to be rooting for you then.”

Mipha then giggled again and looked at me. It was then I realized I still had the boy’s mouth covered with my hands, and he was red about to faint. “Uh, Link, perhaps you might want to let your squire go. I don’t think he can serve you well if he’s passed out.”

Oops!

Releasing him, he gulped in precious air. “Sheesh!” he exclaimed. “What was that for?”

“Sorry,” I said, while also ignoring him. “But I think we should be off.” I explained to her. “Where will you be?” I asked before we could leave.

“I’ll be with my father and the other dignitaries watching in the Royal box.” Her attention then turned to Jun as she was still speaking to me. “You know, he kind of reminds me of you when you were seven. Has that same confidence.”

“Hey, I’m nearly ten and two! Not seven!” Jun exclaimed, folding his arms in disapproval.

Mipha's laughter bubbled up again, “My apologies. What I meant to say was—”

“--It’s fine, I haven’t hit my growth spurt yet. But, just you watch, one day I’ll tower over them all. You wait and see if I don’t!” Jun declared proudly.

“I've no doubt,” Mipha concurred.

Feeling the weight of the pending event, I interrupted. “You know, we really should be going. It was good to see you again, even if it was just for a few minutes. I’m glad you came.”

“I’m glad too.” She said back softly. Jun’s face was bouncing from looking at me and then to her and then to me again.

“Well, c’mon!”

“Right,” I replied, giving Mipha a farewell tilt of the head as a show of respect to her status. A subtle elbow to Jun also reminded him to show the same courtesy. Exiting the tent, we quickly made our way to the roll call lines, the entrance to the grand arenas looming ahead. The pressure weighed on me – it was do or die. Amidst the tension, a sudden realization hit me: I nearly forgot, the princess! She’s still expecting us! Turns out pleasing princesses is a tougher thing than I could have ever imagined.

Authors notes: My apologies for the small chapter. Combined they were getting too big and I thought this was a good place for a break. I swear, the next one will have our favorite girl in it. Please leave a comment, it truly helps the story get traction. Thanks- Sky

Chapter Text

Authors note: It has come to my attention that some have asked when we will be returning to the present plot of the story and what I can tell you is this- I originally wanted to wrap up all these memories so there would be far less confusion going forward. I was going to return to the current narrative after around four or so more chapters but as the readers of my story I am at your service to entertain you. So, if you all would rather me flip back to the present story and sprinkle memories intermittently, I will do so. Let me know your thoughts.

Lastly, the story will be taking a slightly more mature direction, but don't fear, it will very much remain Zelda-esque as far as fun fantasy goes. There will be no rated X material, so don't worry about that. Just a bit more mature themes and language. I hope this doesn't bother anyone but it's how I envisioned the story unfolding. 

Chapter

Why we failed pt. 8

Red Tape

Back in the heart of the city the Red Inn was in a stir. Girls clamored and fussed as one of its highest patrons remained shut in his private quarters, which he paid top rupee for. Outside his door in the hall stood a Dragoon soldier, attempting to brush past the Madam of the establishment and instill order. With tact he took his next actions very carefully, his fate depended on it. So, he knocked gently on the door where whispers of seduction and rude happenings could be heard behind its wooden walls.

"My Lord Arasmus, I'm sorry to disturb you but I believe we should be making our way to her highness."

"Bugger off! I'll go when I'm damn good and ready, alright? Fucks, sake Caspin, you never know when to let me be and shut up. If you weren't my best sword, I'd throw you off from the tallest tower of the Serpent's keep. See if I don't!"

His subordinate continued to tip toe around the situation and talk through the door. "I'm sorry my liege, but I must insist. It's your father's orders."

The young lord rolled his eyes and pulled away from his seductive distraction laying in front of him on a plump feather-down pillow. "My father this, my father that, always with my father. I swear to Hylia, don't you have anything else better to do than pester me like a fly? There's a whole capital to explore and here you are, as usual, buzzing in my ear. Give it a rest already. There will be plenty of time for pleasantries. The bloody festival is for three days. She isn't going anywhere."

"My apologies, Lord, but your father commands it with this parchment."

Enough of your whimpering apologies, Fine, I'll come. I lost heart of this anyway and you spoiled the mood." The uncouth lord said, before ushering to the pillow maid on the loveseat. "You stay there where you are though. I'll be back to finish what we started, but for now, I need to make myself presentable. After all, I'm meeting a princess this evening."

"Oh, my lord, how gallant." The brunette girl he bedded perked up, breasts bare through the thin satins she wore, supple as she seductively charmed the extravagant pillow she nestled between her legs as if it were him for another bout. "I sure hope you don't forget about me and our time together. I do hear she is quite the pretty flower. I fear you may lose all memory of me once trapped in her eyes."

 The wet between her thighs soiled the cushions and the room ranked of mingling, overpriced wine from distant vineyards of faraway lands and cheap perfume. The lord paid no mind while he stood in front of the mirror, fixing himself up, tying his waist belt over the soldier's uniform he wore.

"I would never." He quipped back over his shoulder, strapping the last of his attire. With a phony compliment he gave a crooked smile. He may have been more handsome than most, but his words were as poisonous as the viper emblazoned on his house's sigil. "Seldom is nectar as sweet as you my dear, your tongue and—"

"--My tongue is it?" the pillow maid coyly interrupted, defiantly with a sacrilegious giggle. "I always figured it was my---"

"--Yes, yes, and perhaps, when I see her," he reassured with a mischievous smile smirk of his own to match. "I'll let her have a taste of you on my lips, my sweet. How would you like that? The honor alone....I doubt she knows the taste of honey the way I do. But alas, maybe I can teach her to heel like I taught you to do so well? Who knows, it may come natural to her. After all, you learned so well on your knees, maybe she can too? I hear princesses can be the delightful creatures to subdue. She will be my greatest conquest."

"You're bad...." The girl leisurely rolled around on the bed.

"Well, we all need trophies," he mused with a slick laugh as he continued to freshen up in the mirror. "And, I've never been one to go to sanctuary. I don't presume to be anything other than what you see standing before you now."

The maid was taken aback, feigning surprise. "I know, I know, how unlordly," he continued. "But rumor has it, our very own high priest frequents this humble abode, same as I. So, who is the real charlatan here?"

The lady of the sheets smirked back, almost relishing the thought. "I won't tell if you won't."

"No, I don't think that you would considering I would be surprised if you could even walk after our dance this morning ." He laughed again; this time more obnoxious than the last.

"Only if you want me to—"

"In due time."

The girl sat up, cradling the soft spread of colorful sheets up to her bosom. "But tell me, why do you visit my bed chambers? You can get any girl in the kingdom and yet, you seem to always find your way back into my arms? Why is that? The truth?" her eyes danced mischievously, sincerely curious.

"The truth?" he said, sucking in a breath as if he had to recollect all the mysteries of the universe while he straightened the crimson serpent on his tabard. But, just as soon as he did so, it came to him as water rolls off a duck's back. "Why, because you taste so sweet, that's why my dear."

"Liar—" the girl giggled.

"You calling your lord a liar?"

"Is there anyone else—"

The door knocked again. This time more fervently. "My lord?"

"Damn it, Caspin, what did I say?"

"I know, my liege but I must insist."

"Fine, take me to this bitch! I'm ready as I'll ever be, I guess!" he roared, his voice an amalgamation of rancor and lust. "Let's discern if she's indeed the jewel my father incessantly prattles about!" He said, swinging the door open. The echoed cries and moans from nearby rooms entwined with his cruel laughter filled the lavished hallway. Turning one last time to look at the girl lying on the sheets in his room, he spoke a final word on the matter. "Sorry my dear, I must leave you now, but don't worry, in three days' time you'll be sharing that bed, you hear me? And be sure to save her the feather pillow. We mustn't disappoint a princess."

Outside the Inn, his horse was already saddled, and his men gathered around, also taking to their reins as well. Caspin spoke up beside him, to clear his throat. "M'lord, I apologize—"

"Save it. I already know what you're going to say."

"It's not only your father that is worried. But rumor has it that there is another."

"You mean another suitor? Who else could possibly pretend to challenge me?"

The captain gripped the saddle horn and glanced over both soldiers before speaking to his liege who sat atop his own horse beside. "The Illiastar lordling who keeps her and her maids company from time to time. The outspoken younger brother," he said to clarify.

There were after all, two Illiastar lords in who will be in attendance today. "Our own scouts had him followed a while back and let us just say, he keeps a strange distance in regard to the princess. Not to mention, after a careful inspection of his quarters, we have found writings written in his own hand. A detailed confession of his feelings he harbors for her, though she is yet to know."

The young lord of Draene, blinked, amazed, and almost confused why any of this mattered. After all, nobody could compete against him. "The scrawny court poet? You mean to tell me all this rushing this morning was because you fear the slick tongue of a circus performer who's never fought a day in his life? Has being in my service for so long lowered your opinion of me to such a degree that you come to me with this gossip as if it needs my attention?"

"Not at all m'lord. It's just—"

"--I must admit that songbird is quite the nuisance, tis true, but he is only just that, I assure you. It's his older brother I must keep my eye on."

"And about him m'lord. You'll be pleased to know we found he has no interests in the girl and that in fact, well..."

"Well, what? Out with it."

"Let's just say he prefers to keep the company of boys from the training yard than maids. Though this is believed to be a heavily guarded secret of their house, we found it. They were clever at hiding it but you know us m'lord. We can uncover any truth."

"Who would have guessed that twist of fate?" Arasmus rolled his eyes, somewhat disgusted but also pleased by the revelation. "So, the buzzing bee who sings all day has a taste for flowers and his warrior brother rather temper young steel. They make this almost too easy."

"So, now that you know, what are you going to do about the poet?"

"Nothing. He shames himself, his family, and his class by prancing about the way he does. No Hylian who presumes to have any honor should ever lower themselves to that of a common court mummer. He should leave the squawking of songs to the Rito if ever has a hope of contending against me for her hand." The lord said with a smirk gazing off to the yonder distance where the castle stood atop the hill.

It was as if he could peer through the wisp of white clouds that rolled over her keep window even now. His prize just waiting to be claimed. "No, I think you'll come to find that by this time on the morrow, I'll have our pretty bird eating out from the palm of my hand. No songs necessary." With a click of his tongue perched atop his black stallion he led them off to the castle.

The meadow was abuzz with excitement as the residents of Hyrule, from the nobility to the common folk, gathered for the festivities. Overcast skies and a light drizzle created a serene backdrop to the menagerie of activity. Grey mist hovered over the verdant grass meadows, forming a majestic sea of undulating hills and boundless prairies. Scattered across were myriad pavilions and tents, barricades for melees, erected watcher stands for the lists, horse stables, and beside them, training yards. Under illustrious pavilions, lords and ladies extravagantly dressed conversed in hushed tones, while the common folk huddled beneath their quaint fixtures. Merchants hollered their wares among stalls, and hopefuls from all around queued to sign up for the tournament.

In the epicenter of this vibrant mosaic of life stood the Queen's Pavilion, the locale for the main feast hall, where the night would unfold in the presence of the Royal Family and distinguished guests. Amidst this tumultuous symphony of colors and echoes was Link, merely sixteen, engaged in a heated discussion with the tournament organizer. His squire, young and unseasoned, looked on, his breath held in anticipation.

A trumpet's resonant blow interrupted their exchange, causing all to halt and admire the arriving nobility procession. Banners of various Lords fluttered in the wind as they flowed in a seamless stream, their bearers parading in carriages and wheelhouses of varying scales. Even the massive Mammoderms and desert Dunadaries from foreign lands Link and Zelda marveled at earlier also made an appearance following at the rear of the parade of heraldry. At the vanguard was the opulent wheelhouse of the King, where no doubt she would be as well.

At the front, the princess's illustrious coach was flanked on both sides by men who Link aspired to be, guardsmen. And the one leading them atop a noble grey stallion was none other than his father. Sir Tye of the King's Guard. The highest-ranking soldier among them. A very distinct honor granted to someone of low birth. Link aspired that one day he too could earn his stripes through many dedicated years of unwavering service.

As his gaze wandered over the flow of riders, banners, wheelhouses and streamers he and his young compatriot both noticed that each of the three high lordships also came with a retinue of their own household guard to follow after the royals. Directly following the princess's procession marched Starsguard men, charged with protecting their liege lord of Illiastar. Not far behind came the notorious Dagger Dragoons of Draene, clad in their gruesome, black armor and finally, came the Seascape Rangers of the Marshlands being led by their liege of Tarble, Lord Talin. The Rangers in particular wore armor that seemed more outfitted for a long hunt or sea voyage, than for war, yet Link knew they were just as lethal as any warriors of the kingdom. Every boy in the kingdom from Hera to Hateno knew that they were prime experts in the Hylian Long bow, rivaled only by the Rito when it came to the mastery of archery.

It was then Link's attention was drawn to a conversation behind him in line, focusing on the immaculate armor of the Illiastar troops. "Have you ever seen such a pretty army in all your life?" Said a man who shook his head in disbelief that for once, rumors were right. And they were. Their armor by far was the most grand and haughty of them all.

Each donned a pristine, white cloak that lacked any crease or wear, adorned with sparkling gold trimmings. If that wasn't regal enough, their sleek, silver pauldrons atop their shoulders were so polished they shined even in the shade of the cloudy sky. The earlier rain had left perfect beads of dewdrops atop them that glistened back like ornate little diamonds when gazed upon. Link and his squire couldn't help but noticed their breastplates were also a grade above the rest and their tabards were decorated with the finest stitching that rupees could buy. Each man wore a distinct accentuation of an embroidered pale stallion charging through three golden rays of light. Their house banner.

Another hopeful from an adjacent line muttered back, "Hell, I've never even seen a Knight dressed so pretty in all my life. That there lads is a living breathing song of a man."

"You blind fool, that's no mere knight, that's the Lord of Roses, Sylvan Illiastar. See that pretty gold flower blossomed on his brooch?" Clarified the first man. Everyone watched the liege lord of Illiastar stride through atop a pale palfrey. His attire was above all the rest in formation and his platinum blond hair danced atop his shoulders as he cantered to the front of the march, cape fluttering behind him like a cloud chasing a golden sun. From what Link could surmise he had to be in his twenties and aside from the plated armor he wore, he did appear to be quite broad shouldered. A formidable man if Link had to guess.

"That man has the finest weapons and armor in all the realm from what I hear."

Link couldn't help himself but chime in. "The suit doesn't make the man, nor does the sword. At least, that's what my father always told me."

"Well, your father sounds like a ripe old fool. I'd take my chances wearing those castle forged plates over cheap peasant rags or the dented steel your wearing. See then who lives by the end of a skirmish!"

Link just rolled his eyes at the man. He figured he'd be wasting his breath explaining to him anyways.

The other man added. "Well, I'll be bullocked. I'd wager his gloves alone are worth my entire house."

The rude one countered again. "I've seen your house, so more I'd say."

That irked him now. "You'll be seeing the tip of my lance if you keep running your mouth!" He growled back.

Link paid them no mind at all as their bickering continued back and forth. His attention instead drifted as the procession, spearheaded by the princess's coach, approached the heart of the meadow. Once through the arches of the grounds he knew they would be disembarking near the main pavilion beside the Royal Box to have the best view of the arena to watch the beginning spectacles. But suddenly, the rush of the entire procession ceased moving. And strangely enough he saw that it was his father of all people who raised his hand and ordered the line of regality to halt.

Everyone stood still, even the crowd of would-be challengers waiting on the sidelines. Hell, even the msuicians who kept the spirt alive ceased their tunes. Suddenly, the meadows became silent as a graveyard. And from the back of the march another lord came striding in, but he straddled a charcoal stallion unlike the pale palfrey the earlier lord rode in on. Who he was, Link couldn't say, but he certainly had to be high borne judging by the way he dressed. The lord was clad in pristine, blackened armor and was flanked by a small retinue of what could have only been Dragoons. Link's face soured. Of course, it would be them, he thought.

But to his shock something he did not intend happened, the princely man rode up alongside the princess's carriage where it stood waiting, slid off his mount, glanced over both shoulders, knocked on her wheelhouse window, handed the reins to his horse to one of his subordinates and entered in. It was then the busy commotion resumed as if not to delay the festivities. Starting first with the bards, then the keepers of the gates and then the all the rest.

What the? Link was getting more confused by the second.

It was only then he realized that an audible grumble came from Jun standing beside him. He had been so quiet; he nearly forgot the lad was there. The boy growled so agitatedly that he awoke Link from his own confusion. "Is something the matter? Do you know him?" Link asked, turning to face the boy.

Jun glanced up at him and for a moment, Link was unsure if he was going say anything at all, or if the kid was looking for a way to dance around the truth, but as soon as Link opened his mouth to speak, the lad spoke. "No, but I know his sort. That's for sure. See the soldier who took his horse for safe keeping? That's Captain Caspin of the Dragoons."

"Yeah, so?" Link's brows raised. He was perplexed. "What's he to you? Do you know him?"

Jun didn't respond. Link took a hard squint on the man Jun mentioned from afar and after a few seconds he realized who he was. That was the jerk he met outside the red Inn surrounded by several of those other goons. The ones who caused all that trouble with Sir Finn. But that was strange, how did the kid know him? Link turned to face Jun, but the lad snapped instead, as kids often do. "It's none of your business alright! Let's just get to where we need to go. C'mon, don't you want to see her or not?"

Link didn't know what to say to that but instead shrugged and stepped forward. Amid all the excitement, he absentmindedly walked past the enlistment bench and was already halfway through the grand arches of the tourney grounds when the old fellow keeping the accounts whistled at him.

"And just where in Demise's hell do you think you're running off to!?" bellowed an older man, his portly belly a testament to many indulgent years, and his demeanor drenched in disdain. He then raised an eyebrow at Link as he sat at his bench, writing down the accounts in his ledger.

Link and his squire both forgot they were next in line before the horns sounded. It was required that Link sign his name in the scroll of testament before gaining entry. He also had to do so if he wanted a hope of ever getting close to where the nobility would be on the meadow grounds as well. Their pavilions would be near the heart of the Grand Arena but to enter among their quarters, they would need to pass the guarded entrances. Commoners weren't allowed to just freely meander wherever they pleased. They were only allowed in by invitation and if not, had to make do with their own area to spectate.

But the first obstacle was gaining access to the main meadow in the first place, which happened to be through this grumpy goat who guarded the lists.

The man rolled his eyes at Link. "This tournament is for wandering knights and men who are in search of service. I must first ask, you have a horse? And do you have the entrance fee of twenty rupees?"

Link hesitated, then confessed, "Well, not yet, but I will."

"Horse or the rupees?"

"Uh, both, actually. But I will shortly."

The man's smirk widened. "You can't enter without paying the tax. And you can't ride unless you have a steed. I'm no genius on the subject but those are the rules. Also, these lists are not for royal guardsmen, don't you know?"

Confused, Link gulped.

"Did you hit your head or something? Or are you just mute? Your armor man! Are you a Royal Guardsman or not?"

"Uh, well, you see—"

"Well, aren't you a fast one...." The man with scraggily grey hair clicked his tongue in disapproval, turning his attention to Link's current state of attire. And at this time, he was wearing the armor Finn had lent him, save be for the helm which he had tucked under his arm. "--This whole grand hullabaloo is to prove you have what it takes to be a Royal, don't you know? And if you're already a Royal, then why Demise's hellfire would you want to enter? Unless--"

Link quickly interjected, his voice firm but low, "I'm not a guardsman. At least, not yet."

The organizer leaned in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well now, isn't that a pretty picture you paint for me. It's a terrible crime to admit to impersonating a man of the crimson cloak. I could double my day's wages just by turning you in."

Link's eyes darkened, his voice cold and dangerous, "Then you'd be short a throat and unable to speak. " His words were sharp, but devoid of any real intention to harm. However, the gravity of his tone masked his true intentions well enough.

"Easy now," the man replied, hands raised defensively. "I'm only jesting lad. No need to get all fired up. Save it for the arena. You're going to need it," he said, offering a cursory glance to evaluate Link again.

Gathering his thoughts, Link explained, "Look, I'm not impersonating, I'm borrowing the armor. It's my, uh, brother's."

The organizer's curiosity piqued. "Really, your brother? And where is he to vouch for you?"

"He is sick at home..." Link answered hesitantly.

Shaking his head, the man chided, "Well, brother or no, there's no place for armor like that in this tournament. I'd hang along side you just for allowing the farce. And I like my neck stretched enough the way it is, thank you very much. You're going to need your own gear if you are to compete. And I suggest you don't mention what you told me just now to anyone else. The sooner you lose that armor, the better."

Link sighed in exasperation. "Well, I haven't any armor of my own."

The old goat smirked, waving him off dismissively, "Well, then, I guess you won't compete then, next!" The man craned his head to look past Link into the crowd of hopefuls standing behind him to what seemed to be an endless line.

Link's frustration grew. "Hey, I'm not finished yet."

But the man cut him off. "You are with me, now bugger off, there's a line behind you. Next!"

A desperate look crossed Link's face, his voice rising with emotion. "I don't think you're listening; I have to enter those lists. It's the only way she'll—Just please."

The young squire piped up beside Link, his voice earnest, "Yeah, let him join, what's it to you?"

The organizer, clearly exasperated, tried to reason, "Well, you could enter after you buy some armor and find yourself a horse. There's plenty of good smithies around here. I even hear they have some of them fancy ones from Brynna can forge pretty gilded helms too! The Gorons there are quite the crafty ones, but don't let the ones from death mountain catch you saying that." The old man hunched as if to tell them about a secret with a cupped hand.

He then leaned back in his seat and spat over his shoulder onto the muddy grass. "Yep, they meld the rubies and garnets on top right into the steel. Some say they grant the wearer special abilities, but that's just a load of hooey. But one thing is for certain, they do cost a pretty rupee. So, if you do that and come back with the entry fee, might I enlist you."

Link's shoulders slumped, the reality of his situation sinking in. "I haven't any money either."

The man sighed, dismissing him. "Well, then I can't help you. Now, move along, I've work to do, next!"

Persistence shone in Link's eyes, his voice a mixture of pleading and frustration, "Just one more second," he urged as a man behind tried to shove past him, heeding the call of the enlister.

Link, refocusing on the enlister, proposed hurriedly. "Look, perhaps you can lend me the rupees and sign me up for the list and I'll make it worth your while. Half of my winnings from the ransoms I'll make. It's yours, I swear it by her grace, Hylia herself."

His squire's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief, "WHAT! Those are my—You can't—"

Link quickly reprimanded Jun, "Shush, or I'll thwack you like a good squire deserves."

Link looked at the man with a mixture of hope and determination. "So, do we have a deal?"

The enlister, veiled in contemplation, studied Link and the boy beside him. They were the essence of fables and underdog tales, yet skepticism gnawed at his thoughts. He knew well the rarity of happy endings, especially the ones sung in children's tales. "Well, what do you think?" Link asked impatiently.

The man sighed sarcastically. "I think you will last about ten seconds. Are you kidding, have you lost your mind? The answer is most definitely, NO! You're more likely to die in your first tilt than the odds me of ever seeing a rupee. The fiercest warriors from the entire country will be here to fight. Veterans who've seen real combat. Men!"

"I can beat them all!" Link contested.

"I have my doubts. You're just a lad hardly older than your squire there. I'd be more likely to be left destitute if I were to throw in my lot with you."

Link slammed his palm upon the table, a glint of determination in his eye. "You're wrong, I'm going to win this tournament, you'll see!"

The organizer chuckled cynically, "Yeah, that's exactly what the last hundred green boys like you said. All of them thinking they're going to win. The whole bunch of ya would be lucky to wake up in the infirmary ward all wrapped up with your limbs still attached."

Link, clearly getting desperate, questioned, "Then what is it you do want? I don't have any rupees now, but I will."

The man's eyes darted to Link's sword. "Hmm, well.... Say, that is a shiny thing you have there. Looks like good steel too. I bet that's worth a pretty gem or two."

Link instinctively clutched the hilt of his sword, "What? My sword? No way! Then what will I fight with?"

"That's your problem to figure out." The man replied, inspecting the sword's hilt from where he sat. "However, those tiny glistening gems, diamonds, are they? On the hilt?"

Link nodded slowly, eyeing the man warily. "Yes... they are. And a single sapphire, emerald, and ruby as well, why?"

The man's eyes lingered on the sword, clearly entranced. Light raindrops caught its glint, and it felt as if the very heavens marveled at its craftsmanship.

"Such fine artistry..." the man murmured, almost to himself. "This is the work of castle-forged steel from an age long past. From the age of heroes, I'd wager. Goddess above, they just don't make them like that anymore."

The weight of his gaze turned from admiration to avarice. "You know, lad, parting with that blade might just solve all your problems. Hand it over and I might provide you with the rupees for a sturdy mount, decent armor, and a replacement blade. It won't match that masterpiece tied to your hip, granted, but it will get the job done. And with what's left, you could feast like a king on the eve of your...well, potential final moments. What do you say?"

Link's face darkened, a mixture of desperation and anger. The sword wasn't just a weapon; it was a part of his heritage, a symbol of his lineage. "I can't possibly," he said, voice trembling, "This sword was my uncle's. It's been in my father's family for generations. It's their most prized heirloom."

The man leaned back, eyeing Link carefully, a sly smirk forming on his lips. "Well, then I can't help you. Sorry lad, better luck next time. NEXT!"

A chill ran through Link as he realized the weight of the choice before him: the sword and his family's legacy or a chance to change his destiny. The young squire, sensing Link's turmoil, spoke up, his voice wavering but filled with conviction, "There must be another way, Sir. Surely the prize of the past doesn't outweigh the potential of the future?"

Link looked down at the sword as he unsheathed it, feeling its weight both physically and emotionally. He could see the reflection of the surrounding pavilions, the lords and ladies, and the bustling crowd in the polished blade. He could almost feel the spirits of his ancestors urging him, pushing him towards a choice.

He raised his head, a new determination in his eyes, and spoke with clarity, "You're right. I'll find another way. This isn't the end of my story, not by a long shot. Let's go Jun."

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, the rain beginning to fall heavier, as if the skies were crying. The squire followed closely, leaving the organizer to his busy work, a little less rich but far more intrigued by the boy who had just walked away.

And just as Link's thoughts fell into despair, a new but familiar voice shouted over to him and Jun.

Link and Jun, immersed in the rhythm of their departure, were interrupted by beckoning voices. "Helmsworth! Helmsworth, is that you?" They called out. It was Kafei and Ajuel, the couple whose destinies had intertwined with theirs earlier in the day, now adorned in festival regalia. The grandeur of their attire was an unspoken testimony of the princess's favor. Link was taken aback by their presence and was amazed they could spot him out from the crowd.

As if he read his thoughts, Kafei spoke up, "We figured you'd be here, to join in the challenges to become a guardsmen."

Link's words got caught in his throat. How do they know I'm not a guardsman already? How does everyone seem to know? This disguise is useless.

His perplexity seemed to amuse Lady Ajuel, whose laughter danced through the air like a refreshing breeze, revealing the secret jest they shared. "We saw that you were having some trouble getting past the guards. And it dawned on us, if it weren't for you earlier, we would not have been blessed with such a rare opportunity, so we thought, why not pay the favor back and help you two get to where you need to be."

Link raised a brow in curiosity, and his eyes met Ajuel's, and before words could give form to his thoughts, the lady unveiled the radiant jewelry bestowed by Princess Zelda – their beacon, their passage to the royal enclave.

"The princess did say that if we show this, they'll have to escort us to her."

Link and Jun marveled at the prized jewel that she held in the palm of her hand, a triplet of triangle crests cradling a mother of pearl stone. It was exactly the ticket they needed and just at the right time. Link's eyes lit up, the first time all afternoon. "Yes, this will work indeed. But—"

"But what?" Kafei remarked.

"I'll still need to find a way to enter the lists. This grants me and Jun passage, which I am grateful for, but it still doesn't access me to the tournament."

"Well, what are you going to do?" Ajuel asked.

"I don't know. But, perhaps I should do as the princess asks and bring Jun to her as promised. I can figure out what to do afterwards I suppose."

Jun rolled his eyes and blurted. "For goddess sakes, just take the rupees already from that other princess! What's the problem? She said she was fine with it."

"What other princess?" the lady turned her head on a swivel to glance at the lad who stood a head shorter than all of them.

"The—"

"What he means is—" Link interrupted. "What he means is my, uh...."

"--Uh, huh?" Anjuel's head cocked to the side with a questioning smile. Her betrothed also stood perplexed.

"We got to go; I thank you for your help, but we can get in on our own."

"Are you sure?" Kafei questioned, surprised by the sudden change of heart.

"Yes, thank you kindly, but I must insist. Let us go Jun."

"But sir, I was only—"

"Let's go Jun!" Link mumbled impatiently.

And just like that Link and the boy took off in the other direction, back toward the sea of tents on the rolling hills where his and his fathers was at. Kafei and Anjuel couldn't help themselves, but shrug amused and confused by their antics and proceeded to make their way under the banners of the noble quarters of the meadow grounds; granted by the precious pass they carried.

Link leaned to speak to his squire as the strode through the huddled mass of pilgrims, hopefuls, and merchants. "Haven't your parents taught you any manners at all? That mouth of yours is going to get us both in serious trouble."

"I told you before, my parents are dead."

Link had to halt for a moment and contemplate the boy. Rain lightly trickled over his shoulders. Did the boy ever tell him his folks were dead? He couldn't remember and was unsure, but the boy was so sure he did. It could have been possible that bit of history got lost in the excitement of the morning.

Link couldn't help but regret what he said and felt pity for the lad in his belly. "Well, I'm sorry for that. But, you're going to have to listen more and speak less if you're going to be my squire."

Jun rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, it's not my fault you make your life so complicated."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The princess, or shall I say, princesses! How am I supposed to keep your story straight if you could hardly do so yourself?"

"There's nothing going on with either of them." Link insisted, beginning to trudge ahead in the muddy grass back toward the lines of hopefuls enlisting. "I'm a warrior of the realm. Or at least, I will be. My duty is to serve, that's all. And you are here to serve me. So, hold that tongue of yours or I'll give you something to talk back about."

"Yeah, sure, nothing going on between them. Riiiight, and I'm the great fairy of the west." Mocked Jun with a grumble, making a face behind him as kids often do.

"What was that?" Link turned but was met with a stone stare as if the lad had been dutifully following him the entire time.

"Nothing, sorry sir." Jun blinked.

Link huffed despairingly. "C'mon you, let's see if we can negotiate with the devil." A smile slowly pulled at Link's cheeks. "Let's win this thing, what do you say?"

"That's the spirit Sir!" Jun exclaimed; fist raised.

Back in the princess's carriage another conversation was beginning to brew like the storm clouds above. It was Zelda sitting at one side, staring nonchalantly through her window, pretending to be distracted while her guest, Lord Arasmus seated across from her was talking incessantly about the details of the evening that awaited them.

"Your father is in agreement with mine and tells me we must make time to openly see each other and more importantly, let the people see it. It's not what I want either, trust me, but we must both do as we are told...For now. Who knows, you may in time even come to enjoy it."

"Mhm, sure, whatever you say." Zelda said, feigning interest but clearly distracted from his words.

Arasmus rolled his eyes and gripped his knees, teetering on the edge of his patience and spoke again. This time low and firm, with far less curtesy. "Has anyone ever remarked to you that you are the most pretty, spoiled, well-to-do, entitled little cunt this side of the Dying mountains?"

Zelda didn't hear and in fact, blinked continuing to busily watch the spectacle unfolding outside her window. Drops of skyfall traced paths down the fogged-up glass, a result of her warm breath. Through the misty pane, she spied the cleverest little fellow she had ever seen. A nimble tumbler attempting to impress a stage master, hoping to earn some rupees for his performance. Stunt after stunt he would impress.

A bit further, an elderly woman chided her husband for sneaking a spoonful of stew from their bubbling pot. In the reflection of Zelda's eyes, the world outside sparkled with life and vibrancy, contrasting sharply with the stifling and cold atmosphere within the coach.

"Your Highness!" Arasmus declared.

"Huh, yeah, sure it's as you say." Zelda mumbled back, her attention now slowly adrift from the view of her window and onto the handsomely seated man before her.

If the lord of Illiastar was the most well-dressed man of that age, then Lord Arasmus from the Serpent's Keep had to be the most handsome, by far. His skin was kissed by a smooth olive complexion and the dark hair that cropped his face perfectly was as fierce as the Shadowore armor he wore. A warrior through and through and was a sight pleasing unto the ladies to be sure. Even she couldn't deny him that.

And then there were those eyes of his, they gleamed like blue sapphires, the kind that pierced your soul when caught in his gaze. A true devil in disguise.

"Are you even listening to a word I'm saying?" the lord continued.

"Oh, my apologies, you were speaking?" the princess coyly blinked.

"Look, all I am saying is, that I don't like this any more than you do, and I would appreciate some cooperation on your part to fulfill our duty. And if I'm to be your suitor, we should start laying the ground rules of our relationship now, don't you think? Get a jump before that rabble out there, or worse, the other petty lords get the wrong idea. Both our houses must flex unity and strength."

Zelda's response was hushed, almost to herself, "My house is the royal line of Hyrule. In what world would we lack strength?" But then, turning her full attention to him, she continued with a sly grin, "And who's to say you'll be the one to take my hand on the eve of my eighteenth birthday? Last I checked, this tourney is for my sixteenth celebration and to commemorate the cadets. Aren't you putting the carriage before the horse a little bit?"

"These are trying times and the realm is unsettled. Who else could possibly be your suitor? Your father said you would be open to the idea—"

"--Well, I'll have to have a word with him about that, now, won't I? "But for now, 'dearest suitor', I'd appreciate some breathing room. I'll consider your proposal. Satisfied?" She wrapped her arms around herself, a protective gesture she often adopted when felt the world close in around her.

"Certainly. Like I said I didn't choose this any more than you did. Our fathers insist on this union. So, let's at least try to make gold out of iron and enjoy these next three days. Let's show the people, there's a possible chance between us. That is all I ask. For a chance."

He then did something most unexpected and leaned across the way and got to one knee. And before the princess could breathe, say anything, or pull away he held her hand on her knee and spoke again, this time more softly. "Let me show you your worth these next few days and earn your affection. What do you say?" he said in the most gentlemanly way he could muster, but Zelda saw through the charade. His candied coated tongue was no match for the lie in his eyes.

But even still, she still weighed the thoughts of her people against the desires of her own heart. Time was indeed running out. Who was to say the calamity would wait until her eighteenth birthday and last she knew, the sealing power only came in its full manifestation to the queen, not the princess. Or the very least, the queen to be. That would mean, to unleash her power, she would need a suitor, or have one in mind when the time came.

And yet, her thoughts veered to Helmsworth. Oh Helmsworth, why must you exist? Why do thoughts of your smile keep interfering when I'm faced with an impossible choice? And we only just met! Why do these feelings stir inside me?

A halt and jolt of the carriage followed by a knock on the window forced her to suddenly withdraw back her hand. Arasmus also sat back. The door swung open by a Royal Guarsdman. "My lord and Grace, we have arrived to the Royal box."

~~~~~~~~~~~

The man guarding the entry lists busily scribbled away at his ledger, granting passage to one contestant after the other onto the meadow where the arena was. And then without warning, the sudden thud and crash on his table stunned him, causing him to jump in his chair. It was then with bulging eyes he was relieved to find Link standing over him.

Link had loosened his belt and tossed the sheath carrying the sword of his ancestors on the table. The thud as it skidded across nearly broke his heart, but he had no choice. "There, are we in agreement now? It's yours if you keep your word and mark me for the testaments."

The man could hardly believe it, smacking his lips in intrigue. "I knew you'd come to your senses my boy. Though I must confess, I'd thought you'd be quicker about it." The man then gave a slimy grin, the kind a slick gambler would make during a game of Hyrule hold'em with pocket fairies tucked up his sleeve.

"Well?" Link pressed; arms stretched over the edge of the table bracing both corners.

"Why, yes of course. Just as we agreed." Licking his lips again, he clutched the prized blade that lay across his table that knocked over stacks of papers, bartering sacks and other various paraphernalia. With a quick gander, he glanced up at Link and tossed him a brown purse he took from a small chest he had beside his chair.

Link fumbled to catch the pouch as it thumped against his chest but managed to do so. And just as he was about to walk away with his squire in tow, he gave a cursory accounting of the contents of the purse. "Hey this is less than what you promised!" Link spun around and narrowed his glance on the smirking man who leaned back brazenly in his chair. "This is barely enough to get me boiled leather and a mount. And that's if I'm lucky!"

"Well, my going price has changed." The man folded his arms, and planted himself like an immovable boulder who wouldn't budge an inch.

"What? How so? The jewels on the hilt alone are worth twice this amount."

"Because now you're desperate, that's why. And o'l Lionel never misses an opportunity to earn his gem's worth. And besides, I have to scribble you on the list and vouch for you. Risking my neck for the like of you young fools doesn't come cheap."

"But this is hardly enough to get me by. You know that."

"Weren't you the one that said you're going to win this tourney single handedly? Why, if you're such the champion you claim to be, you don't need plate armor, right? Think of the brave songs they'll sing of you...." The man's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. And under his breath he finished, though out of earshot of Link. "At your funeral."

"What? Are you mad? I'd hardly stand a chance."

The man spat again. "Well, I hear there's a smithy that uses leftover steel to mend new armor. Mayhaps, you can give him that Royal Guardsman gear you stole and he might melt it down and make you a new set for a discount. It's worth a shot, but as far as our arrangement, we are done. Oh, and do hurry, I believe he does close shop soon."

Jun raged beside Link, unwilling to part ways with such a low fare. "Why you no good, I outta--" the boy reached for a small dagger hidden in a small sheath that was rolled cleverly into the folds of his tunic. Link hadn't the time to ponder that strange occurrence any further but instead had bigger problems to deal with--the record keeper.

"--It's fine Jun, it will be alright. We still have enough for a mount, some leathers and weapons if we can find a good stall and haggle right. Maybe if we find this mystery smithy, he may be willing to work with us. Though we will have to make do without the feast. We haven't the gems for that. Sorry." Link said, his belly grumbling in protest. He had hoped for a good meal prior to the skirmishes that lay ahead. It's never good to fight on an empty stomach.

"It's alright sir. I think I have an idea that could help. It's a longshot but it's worth a try."

Link didn't know what to make of that. This kid was quite the mysterious one. "Um, sure, let's get going then." Link said, walking beside the lad, giving him a side-eyed glance.

"What?" Jun asked.

"Uh, nothing. It's fine. Look, he marked us down. We can enter the tourney grounds and figure more of that later. But first, we promised the princess you'd join her before the preliminaries. You got those masks, right? Because I don't see your sack."

"Leave that to me, sir." Jun's eyes twinkled with a glint of surprise yet again.

Once again, the more Link spent with the boy, the less he thought he knew anything about him. But there was no time to worry about that now, instead he welcomed the help. At least someone had his back. "Well, just make sure you do, because I won't be able to bail you out if you disappoint her," Link said.

"Hah!" Jun nearly erupted in laughter. "Me? Disappoint her? You're the one that has to worry about that." The kid slapped his knee as they walked. "But, don't you worry sir, we have a deal, so I'll be sure to make sure you don't look foolish."

Sheesh, that makes me feel loads better. Link gulped and thought to himself. Well, at least one of us is confident. Maybe before the night is through, I can borrow some of his.

So, with that, the pair of underdogs turned away, with rupees in hand and proceeded to enter the arena under the grand arches of the meadow grounds. And just as they displayed their parchment to guards standing post the potbelly man from moments ago cackled behind them. "Goodluck lads, I'll be cheering for you! You can bet on that!"

Link fought the urge to look over his shoulder while the man hurled his taunts, nor did he want to give him any satisfaction.

Hustling through the dense crowds flocking into the grand arena, Link and Jun were quickly drawn to the majestic sight of the Royal banner, fluttering proudly in the breeze, mounted on a tall post. Directly before them, ornate fences marked the boundaries of what Link discerned to be the royal box. This elevated, sheltered seating area was reserved for the kingdom's elite, guaranteeing them an unobstructed view of the thrilling battles to unfold in the arena.

Adjacent to the seating were bustling stalls, ready to satiate the diverse wishes of the attendees. The delightful aroma of roasted delicacies wafted through the air, while stalls displaying shimmering trinkets, sturdy armor, and other tempting wares beckoned the visitors. The muffled sound of clashing weapons hinted at a training area not too far, with knights practicing their strokes against quintains and releasing arrows at straw dummies.

They were on the brink of reaching their destination. Just a few more steps, a courteous nod to the guards at their posts, and they would soon be graced by her esteemed presence. It was only then that Link, remembering his uniform, quickly donned his helm, hoping it would act as a ticket to access the royal vicinity. Given the failed attempts at disguising himself so far, he remained skeptical. A fierce battle seemed to be playing out in his stomach - nerves and hunger clashing with equal fervor.

Suddenly, a resounding horn blast pierced the air, drawing everyone's attention. The arrival of the princess's coach and the King's wheelhouse was announced. The sight reminded Link of ants in a frenzy, as soldiers hastily scurried to greet and facilitate the royals' entrance. Numerous dignitaries, draped in fine clothes, also converged to offer their salutations.

Link was about to address Jun when his gaze landed on her. Her graceful form, escorted by one of his fellow guards-in-training, left him momentarily breathless.

Jun, noting Link's obvious distraction, nudged him and said, "You were going to say something?"

"She is really something isn't she?" Link whispered, captivated.

"Well, what she is, is surrounded by jerks. Or haven't you noticed? So, unless we get over there, you might as well commit that view of her to memory because that is going to be the last you'll ever be so close."

The young lad's words were a splash of cold water, and Link nodded in agreement. "Let's go, Jun." However, before they could move, a familiar face emerged from the princess's coach. It was the noble lord of Draene, but now, he seemed more than just a companion. Link's heart sank as he watched the lord intertwine his arm with hers, going as far as to give her a lingering kiss on the cheek. Their shared smiles and the gathered nobility's warm reception made Link's world spin. Doubt and disillusionment clouded his mind. Was their prior interaction just a fleeting game for her? She was a princess after all. Or maybe he was just plain stupid to ever think or entertain the idea that she would ever be interested in the likes of him, a lad from Scrapbottom.

The unfolding scene provided Link with the perfect diversion to reconsider his next moves. "On second thought, mayhaps, I should change first. I don't think this disguise is going to work," he confessed, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Geeze, you're just barely realizing that now," Jun retorted, clearly exasperated. "When were you going to tell me? Before or after our heads rolled?"

"I don't know, sorry. I changed my mind. We should get the armory first then proceed back here to leave you be with the princess."

"Leave me be? Alone?" Jun's bewilderment was palpable.

But before they could squeeze out from the line of nobles, upscale merchants and petty lords piling the royal quarters, they brushed shoulders with the lovely couple from earlier yet again. Yes, my ticket to lose the kid. At least until I can think straight.

It was then Kafei raised his hand wearing all smiles and was about to greet Link when the knight to be blurted. Ignoring Jun, he spoke. "Hey, there you are, we meet again. Could you do me the kindness and escort my squire with you to meet the princess."

"Well, I don't mind but what about you? Weren't you going—"

"I am still but it will have to be later. Something has come to my attention that I must address now. Can you do me this favor?"

"Of course, we can, we'd love to." Offered Anjuel.

"--You're ditching me? What are you talking about?" Jun butted in.

"It's fine, you'll have to on without me until the tilts begin. It's only for a small while. This kind lady and her fiancé will take you to her in my absence. She is expecting you. I must prepare; they could be starting any minute."

Jun scratched the back of his silvery hair confused by that command since he was his squire after all. Shouldn't he be there to help?

"Look, I just have to go alright!" Link said, almost frantically scurrying off away. "Find me before the tilts start."

"But sir—"

"No buts, just go!" Link hollered as he left back towards the merchant tents.

"Sheesh, fine, have it your way then. I'll think of something." Jun uttered quietly before glancing up to the lovely couple. "Well, you ready?"

"As we'll ever be." Anjuel responded with a warm smile, leading the way. "Let us be off!"

In the midst of the grand arrival, Zelda skillfully pulled her arm from the possessive grasp of the lord beside her. The man had managed to make what was supposed to be an eventful evening bursting with potential and excitement had been reduced to a tedious charade. While she exchanged pleasantries with noble ladies and esteemed lords, her gaze caught Jun from afar. He was expertly navigating through the throng, dancing on the toes of attendees in his eager quest to approach her. Alongside him, the familiar faces of the couple from their earlier encounter beamed, warming Zelda's heart and briefly lighting up her day.

However, her keen eyes also discerned another figure - Helmsworth. His hurried retreat through the crowd puzzled her. The sight of him disappearing amongst the sea of faces left her riddled with questions. Why would he leave Jun alone? Weren't they both supposed to join me before the celebration?

The elation from seeing Jun and the couple was quickly overshadowed by a shroud of bewilderment. The surrounding buzz - the flutter of compliments and the incessant chatter of the elites that rang in her ear- began to sound distant, their words a mere murmur, oscillating in and out of her perception. For that fleeting moment, doubt clouded her mind, leaving her to ponder what had gone awry.

Her introspection was short-lived, abruptly interrupted by a gentle tug on her arm. She looked down to find Jun, his presence a ray of sunshine piercing through her confusion. Her face lit up instantly. "You made it? But where is—"

Authors Note- Please, if you enjoyed this chapter say so in the comments or leave a kudos, thanks!

Chapter Text

Authors Note: Hello friends, I hope you enjoy this one. That being said, let me know if you prefer me to alternate between the past and present every chapter. I can do so if that is what everyone wants. I just figured it would have been best to get the past finished first so we could just focus on the present after this done going forward. Let me know.

Chapter

Why we failed part- 9

A Song of Salutations and Setbacks

The grandeur of the tournament grounds stood in stark contrast to the somber, overcast sky, a light drizzle misting the thousands of spectators. The lush green meadow just outside Castle Town was abuzz with anticipation, a vivid tapestry of Hyrulean races congregating. Amidst the Hylian nobility, leaders from nearby regions and dignitaries from foreign lands, Princess Zelda gracefully alighted from her coach moments earlier, drawing admiring gazes and courteous bows from the assembled spectators. Her loyal attendant, Gastinoe taking every care to shield her from the rain with an umbrella.

To her dismay, Helmsworth had departed looking the other way when she broke free from the high lord’s grip. All she could think about was wiping away the sloppy kiss planted on her cheek. For the rest of the evening, she would have to make do with the stain of his breath lingering on her skin. A beguiling aroma of mint and lemon that would serve as a constant reminder of the forced kiss he gave her. But she knew better than to make a fuss. All eyes were on them, and she knew what she had to do to keep up with appearances. After all, the kingdom was watching.

Her introspection on the day's events and the curious figure of Helmsworth – the alias under which Link hid under – was abruptly interrupted by a gentle tug on her arm. Looking down, she was greeted by the sight of Jun who managed to sneak past the throng of nobility swarming her path. His youthful energy a stark contrast to the surrounding solemnity. Zelda’s face instantly brightened, forgetting the rudeness of the Lord beside her. “You made it? But where is--?”

Before she could finish, Arasmus, a young lord with seeded ambitions clearly reflected in his sharp gaze, defensively pulled the boy back. His action was rough, but careful not to displease the princess or make a scene. In his mind, he and the princess were already entwined, their courtship a mere formality shy of official declaration. To him, sustaining the illusion of them as the lovely couple was of utmost importance, a delicate dance they must perform for the scrutinizing eyes of the public. Like a symphony where every note must resonate in perfect harmony, so too, he believed, the charade of their orchestrated relationship. The anticipated union between their houses was more than a personal triumph; it symbolized a beacon of hope and pride for the people in these uncertain times. A narrative he was determined to uphold.

“Hey, what’s the big idea? Let off already, you jerk!” Jun protested, his youthful indignation piercing the usual formalities of the court. “Are you deaf, she obviously knows me! Sheesh!”

“You recognize this little miscreant, princess?” Arasmus asked, his tone dismissive, as he yanked Jun by the collar of his tunic.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I do,” Zelda replied, trying to suppress her giggles at Jun’s pouty defiance against Arasmus's domineering posture.

“See, told you! Now let off me, will ya?” Jun shot back, glaring at Arasmus.

Zelda, still amused yet curious, inquired, “But, Jun, where is Helmsworth, wasn’t he with you?”

“Lin—I mean Helmsworth, is uh, um—” Jun stuttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head, scrambling for an excuse. At that moment, a couple chased after Jun as if to intervene with his barging of the procession and a lady’s sweet voice broke the tense atmosphere. It was Anjuel, the maid from earlier, with her fiancé following close behind. “Your grace, we came as soon as we could,” she said gently. “But we wanted to wait until these esteemed lords and ladies had finished their audience with you before we intruded. But, it seems this young man was quite eager to see you and there was no getting in the way of that. Forgive our intrusion,” she said, as if trying to catch up with a wayward son of theirs.

“Indeed,” Zelda responded as she listened, offering Jun a warm smile. The lad was uncertain about the lady's intentions but remained silent to listen.

Zelda continued, returning to face Anjuel “It’s no bother at all. It was I who invited you to join me, after all.” It was then that Zelda had a proper glance at the lady before her. Draped in the garments she had gifted earlier that morning, Anjuel stood out stunningly among the crowd. Her radiant beauty was accentuated by the love shining in her eyes for her fiancé, offering a stark contrast to the dreary afternoon sky. “Oh my, that gown becomes you wonderfully. I see now those garments were truly meant for you, not me. Kafei must feel blessed to have such a star by his side this evening.”

“That I am,” Kafei said humbly.

“You flatter me, Your Highness,” Anjuel added with a graceful curtsey. “Now that this lad has found you, we will find our seats in the watcher stands. A royal procession is no place for us. We’ll eagerly await your return after you conclude your duties here. We are deeply grateful for your invitation to join the festivities. It means the world to us.”

“Of course, and I am eagerly anticipating your company later this evening. You are most welcome by me and my ladies in waiting. Let no-one else tell you otherwise. We are, after all, celebrating a wedding tonight as well, aren't we?” Zelda replied with a playful wink, and they bowed in return. All the while Anjuel attempted as best she could to keep curtesy and stifle her own giggle at the princess’s hint. After they left, Zelda’s attention swiftly returned to Jun, “So, Jun, where is Helmsworth? Was he not accompanying you? Is everything alright?”

Before Jun could reply, Lord Arasmus interjected, “And who, pray tell, is this Helmsworth? Why does his absence seem to cause such a stir?” His icy blue gaze fell sharply upon Jun.

“Only the best prospect enlisted in the tournament!” Jun boasted, diverting Arasmus's attention with his claim.

“Really?” Arasmus's tone dripped with skepticism. He saw nothing but a child in dire need of manners. Something he would very much like to dole out himself if given the chance.

“Yeah, and he could totally wallop you or any of your goons in a duel! So, if you know what’s good for ya, you’d best steer clear from him! You’ll see, were going to win this tournament!” Jun declared, proudly squeezing a fist in the air with a jump shy of clicking his heels.

Zelda watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and intrigue. “We’re? What do you mean?” she probed. “I don’t understand.” Others gathered also raised brows in interest. Zelda was standing alongside Arasmus, several of his men at arms, emissaries from foreign lands and two Rito bowmen.

“Yeah! I’m to be his squire, isn’t it great?” Jun's excitement was palpable, his eyes shining with the innocence of youth despite his tough exterior.

“Oh my?” Zelda’s voice echoed his enthusiasm, her expression softening. The boy's eagerness was infectious.

Jun rambled on, caught in the thrill of his new role. “Which reminds me, I don’t have much time to stay and spin yarns with everybody or sip Zora tea with you but—I, uh, I mean,” he paused, suddenly aware of the princess's stature. The sudden glance at her from head to heel made his boyish cheeks blush.

She’s so pretty, he thought. As older girls often were in his eyes, though he hardly understood why. Her fairness even more alluring than when he saw her before. Especially, now that she was gowned in a majestic dress of the lushest forest green. And the rose-gold tiara crowned atop her head wove into her hair elegantly. The sheen of its metallic surface glittered with sparkles when it caught the light; even in the gloom of the overcast sky.

Jun may have believed her story earlier when she stated she was the princess, but now he knew she was. There was no room left for doubt, for this girl radiated royalty.

Jun cleared his throat. “I mean, your grace, if it pleases thee.” He said, respectfully dropping to one knee. “I—uh, I really should return to him soon, because he’ll be needing my help when the tilts begin. That is, if it’s no trouble, of course.”

With a half smile and sideways glance, she replied. “It’s no trouble. I mean, if he is expecting you, then I suppose you should keep your oath as his squire.” Zelda’s eyes danced with amusement at the idea of the lad squiring for Helmsworth. “It is a very important honor, you know? To be granted that title. I’ll be expecting great things from you,” she said with an encouraging wink.

“Oh, I know! But, I also made a promise to you too!” Jun replied, momentarily springing up only to remember his position yet again to quickly kneel. “I wanted to at least bring you your mask for tonight, Your Highness. I should at least be able to do that much.”

Arasmus, who had been following their conversation with a mixture of impatience and disdain, rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by the boy's audacity.

“Helmsworth said he won’t wear one, but I think you and I could change his mind later if we try,” Jun added, hinting at a shared conspiracy.

“Oh, is that so?” Zelda leaned, clandestinely to meet him.

“Yeah, but only if he decides to come, that is,” Jun confessed.

The princess straightened and cupped her chin, confused. “Hmm, and why wouldn’t he join us afterwards? Have I offended him?” she inquired; a hint of worry in her tone.

“Well, Lin—I mean, Helmsworth, said he had to, well….”

“Well what?”

“ It’s complicated—” Jun began unable to explain what happened when Arasmus began to cut him off.

“Complicated?” Zelda said under her breath.

The tension between the young squire's boldness and Arasmus's arrogance lent an electrifying charge to the air after. Zelda, caught between her amusement at Jun's bravado earlier and her disinterest in Arasmus's courtship, found herself unwittingly at the center of an unfolding drama, her thoughts still lingering on the mysterious Helmsworth as the two went at it.

Jun, the spirited boy who was more a ray of sunshine than a squire, stood defiantly against Lord Arasmus, a man whose ambition was as clear as the dark hair that framed his handsome face.

“So, this contender felt the need to disobey his princess? Is that it?” Arasmus scoffed, turning to Zelda with a guise of protective concern. “Who dares defy a royal summons?”

Zelda deflected lightly. “It was hardly a request, merely an invitation.”

Arasmus wasn’t having it as if to defend her honor publicly. “Still, it gives him no right. Who is this Helmsworth that he esteems himself above the wishes of her grace?”

Jun, fueled by a loyalty that seemed to extend beyond mere acquaintance, shot back defiantly. He wasn’t sure why he was keen on defending Link so much. He had only just met him. But he felt compelled to for whatever reason as if a blot on his honor would be a stain on his own. “Someone who is a lot better than you, that’s for sure! You wouldn’t be acting so tough if he was here, you know!”

Arasmus, his patience waning, snapped back with a venomous tone. “Why you little... Do you know who I am? Do you know the crest emblazoned across my chest?” His words carried the weight of his lineage, a reminder of the power he wielded.

Jun’s eyes darkened and he swallowed about to speak when the lord spoke again, more fiercely. “You mustn’t know for if you did, you’d be singing a different tune. Wise men have come to fear this symbol and what it represents.”

 “Big deal, it’s just a silly old snake slithering through fire! There’s scores of banners and sigils here with dumb beasts on them too. Who cares?” Jun, countered undeterred with youthful nonchalance.

“This symbol is no mere snake. It’s that of the burning serpent of Turtle Rock, boy. The most ferocious beast ever to have roamed this world. Slain only by the power and might of my forebearer who, aided by an upstart hero, depending on who you ask, defeated the ghastly ghoul. Now, if my ancestor could do that to a magnificent monster such as that, think of the power that has passed down to me can do to a little delinquent such as you.”

Zelda, observing the escalating tension, intervened before either could further their argument. “That’s enough My Lord, he’s just a lad. You’re not really threatened by a mere boy, are you?” Her words, laced with a subtle attack on Arasmus’s pride, seemed to hit their mark. “And you too, Jun, we must show respect for our elders, even if they are stubborn mules,” she added, her whisper only for Jun, “Don’t worry, he’s just jealous because you get to sit next to me in the box while he’ll have to abode next to his father listening to his endless droning.”

Jun, torn between feeling slighted and amused, wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t just a ‘mere boy’, he was Jun, the warrior-to-be.

Arasmus stiffened. “I fear no man or child and I certainly don’t mince words with brats who should know their place—” The lord’s brows raised with suspicion. “Speaking of which, where are your parents?”

“I never knew my parents,” Jun lied swiftly, maintaining his composure under the lord's scrutiny.

“Then what business does an orphan boy have being a man’s squire? Where did you come to learn the ways of war?” Arasmus's interrogation continued, and he narrowed his gaze on the boy, hand firmly placed on the alabaster hilt of his sword. “Come to think of it, you match quite the description of another boy yesterday who thought he was gifted.” Arasmus’s subtle grin cropped his undertone. “The lad was last seen at Union Junction stealing, except he had silvery hair whereas yours is brown as the mud puddle there.” He added with a point to a nearby splash on the ground. “It’s only a matter of time before someone gets caught, my men assure me.”

“Yeah, only if you’re stupid.” Jun said back defiantly, wiping his nose from the rain, eyes locked on the lord’s matching scowl.

Zelda beamed at Jun’s determination to stand his ground. Even still, her growing impatience with the lord's relentless questioning, had her intervening. “He’s ten years old, you know. And to answer your question, ‘my lord’, my father has always said, ten is just the right age to be a proper squire!” She fabricated confidently as if it were doctrine, a hint of pride in her voice. “And he’s the King! In case you’ve hit your head too many times swinging that sword of yours and forgotten. You wouldn’t dare question the wisdom of our King, would you?” Her sly smile and knowing glance towards Jun left Arasmus at a loss for words.

“Hmmm,” was all Arasmus managed, his suspicions temporarily abated.

Jun, eager to assert his age, had to clarify for what seemed the billionth time, “Hey, I’m nearly ten and two, remember?! How many times must I say it?” But it was if nobody heard him over the discussion.

Arasmus’s right-hand man, chimed in, “Well, in either case, the boy should learn to hold his tongue in the presence of his betters and know his place.” A Hylian man with a wiry build, judging disposition and a pair of crow eyes which were too scrunched together for any maid to love.

Zelda, stepping in with authority, corrected, “And right now, his place is by my side, if he so wishes. Right, Jun?”

The boy nodded.

“Forgive my man’s outburst, Your Highness,” Arasmus interjected, pushing his man back harshly, almost causing him to stumble over his black cloak. “You are right."

Zelda gave a sideways glance and then addressed her retinue to clarify, “I invited this boy here to celebrate among us as a guest.” She shook her head at Arasmus, her tone light yet pointed. “My oh my, that temper of yours. Even to your own men. You’d think you’d be the one battling it out in today’s tourney. Someone needs to blow off some steam, I think,” she cracked a phony giggle.

“Perhaps, I shall…” Arasmus murmured, his apology as restrained as his frustration. He cleared his throat after noticing the bustling greetings and cheers had quieted from the spectators, replaced by the soft pitter-patter of rain on grass.

During which a Rito standing beside them also added his two rupees to the conversation to liven it back up. “May I suggest, on that merry note, could we please escape this deluge that has befallen us? Perhaps, a pavilion where we can discuss matters without taking a bath.” He said, lifting a wing over his head to avoid the skyfall from splashing over him. It was common knowledge that Rito disliked skyfall. The soaking of their feathers was quite the nuisance, especially during flight. And since the back and forth between lord and boy picked up, so did the rain to match their moods.

The princess twirled to his suggestion, just realizing he had been standing beside them the entire time. "Oh my, where are my manners," she exclaimed, a touch of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “My Lord Arasmus, are you acquainted with Archmaster Revali of the Rito? Renowned as the swiftest wing and sharpest eye of his people, and perhaps even among all Hylians. His reputation is most impressive."

The lord’s eyes fell upon the Rito bowman. “I’m not sure that I have.”

Zelda paraded lightly ahead of them toward a nearby canopy of the arena, pausing briefly to beam back at Revali, who seemed slightly taken aback by her sudden acknowledgment "He has graciously agreed to lead the first challenge of our contenders in their initial trial, in the arena of arrows, if I'm not mistaken. Isn't that right, Archmaster?" she inquired, her gaze warm and inviting. He had no idea, but he wasn’t about to back down from any call of duty, certainly not in front of all the esteemed guests standing around waiting to hear his reply.

Revali, momentarily flustered, cleared his throat and responded, "Why, yes, of course. It would be my honor to guide these hopefuls to glory, and perhaps uncover a hidden gem among them. Though it may prove folly to hope for such a rare prodigy not unlike myself.” His feathers ruffled slightly as he spoke, a mixture of pride and anticipation evident in his posture. “Alas, though, I will do as you ask. And if anyone among them is a diamond in the rough, then I’m just your Rito to find him. Or dare I say, he does not exist, Your Grace.”

Arasmus secretly glowered at the proud Rito warrior and chided, “I have no doubt that a warrior of your class will fulfill the princess’s expectations and excel in this task laid before him.” And with that he turned to the princess standing closer to Jun. “My dear, forgive my harshness earlier. It was misplaced,” he finished, screwing up the boy’s hair under his cap as a gesture of good will.

Zelda blinked and couldn’t believe what she saw or heard come from his mouth. Arasmus, admitting fault? And not only that, apologizing no less?  She must have died and gone to the other side for such a miracle to take place. Still, her doubts remained if it were genuine at all. Nevertheless, she had to reconcile and accept his graciousness publicly.

The high lord opened his mouth again to speak when from afar, catching his gaze he spotted his father, High Chancellor Danarus walking side by side with the king no less. They were heading to the royal box among the stands. “On second thought, my Sweet Sundelion, I will have to catch up with you in a bit.”

Zelda hated when he called her that but smiled, swallowed her frustration, and listened to his farewell like a good royal daughter should.

“I have words to discuss with my father. If you don’t mind that is,” he finished.

“Go right ahead, My Lord,” Zelda said feigning grace. It took nearly all the will she had to restrain the joy she felt from showing on her face at his departure, even if were for only a short while.  But to her shock he didn’t just leave. Instead, Arasmus bowed, reached for her hand for faint peck and then took his leave to meet the King’s entourage ahead of them. The princess feigned a smile best she could, but all the while could nearly taste the bile in her throat at having to pretend such a charade.

Revali stiffened, still agitated by the High Lord’s words even as he departed but before he could speak any more on the subject, a chorus of murmurs rose from guests watching in the nearby arena. The usual clamor of clinking mugs and the casual chatter that accompanied the breaking of bread gradually subsided, giving way to a palpable air of anticipation. Guests shifted in their seats, eyes wide with curiosity, as a remarkable spectacle began to unfold before them atop the soft white sands of the arena.

Across the way through an iron gate rolled a series of large contraptions, shrouded in covers that hid their true nature. They bore a striking resemblance to the one Zelda and Helmsworth had encountered earlier, but now there were six of them, each harnessed to a robust team of oxen. Zelda, along with Jun and the others, watched in awe as these mysterious objects came into view. Instantly, she forgot about having to deal with Arasmus. Even if it were for a little while.

Breathless, the princess could hardly imagine what these giant items of great importance could be. Tarps covered them, and each were being handled by a pair of Sheikah researchers led by Purah and Robbie at the front.

Purah's voice cut through the crowd's murmur, her enthusiasm barely contained. "See! Check it! Didn't I tell you I had a surprise for you!?" she exclaimed; her eyes gleaming with excitement as she walked into Zelda’s view.

Zelda blinked, hardly able to reply when at that same instant from behind her, the voice of her uncle called out also. “We, have a surprise for you. I think she meant to say, we.” Her Uncle’s voice boomed to the adoration and cheer of the people. “It is our honor to present to you, your birthday gift, as promised, Sweet Niece.”

“Yeah, sure, sure, you helped, but—” Purah mumbled under her breath when her serious sister Impa nudged her back into silence. Impa was in no mood for anything to spoil the evening.

Zelda was taken aback by it all but managed to express her curious feelings over the mysterious cargo that had occupied half of the stadium. “I know you said you had a surprise for me, dear uncle, but unless my eyes deceive me, I see six surprises! You never said anything about--” her face lit up with intrigue. The princess deeply fancied mysteries and now seeing that Purah and Robbie were in cahoots with her uncle, her suspicions as to what fascinations they had in store ran wild in her curious mind.

Prince Arcturus, joining the group Zelda stood with, placed an arm over her shoulder for a hug before stepping away to gesture grandly towards the mysterious cargo. “Indeed, but the revelation must wait until after your ascension. We shall uncover these secrets together as a kingdom," he reassured.

Purah, unable to contain her excitement, implored, waving her hand across the spectacle, "Ah, come on! Let’s have a sneak peek now! Just a tiny glimpse won’t hurt!" The people roared in approval at her suggestion.

Even though inwardly she was just as excited as the Sheikah scientist, outwardly, Zelda held her eagerness at bay. She was about to reply but realized that the crowd among the stands quieted, and all eyes had fallen on her waiting for a decision.

Zelda felt a wave of nervousness churn in her stomach, her voice faltering as she tried to speak. The weight of numerous eyes upon her stripped her defenses, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Each perceived flaw seemed magnified under their collective gaze, making her feel as if she stood there, nakedly bare, and isolated. This moment marked her first public address in a capacity truly befitting a princess of her stature.

In the past, she had always been shielded by the presence of others, whether it be her father or other dignitaries. Their words and actions drawing attention away from her own insecurities. But today, there was no such veil to hide behind. For she was a child no longer. This was a defining moment – a test of her ability to either rise or fall. Sink or swim.

Amidst this overwhelming tide of anxiety, a familiar and heartening voice reached her ears, bolstering her spirit. Urbosa’s words, warm and filled with encouragement, flowed like a gentle breeze, “Well, go on little bird, you got this. The day is yours.” Zelda felt a renewed sense of strength and purpose with her mentor's supportive whisper. The words were a beacon of assurance in the sea of her doubts, reminding her of the strength she possessed within.

“R—right,” Zelda said calmly, realizing then that she needed to boom her voice. For those seated at the top of the stands her couldn’t hear her faint whispers. The princess cleared her throat, gazed round about, and lifted her chest proudly to face them all and spoke again. “I have decided we must respect tradition,” she started. “And in doing so, the counsel of my uncle is right, Purah, we must have patience. The gifting ceremony isn’t until after I have taken up the holy vow.  And with that, I too, must show restraint and humble my heart to these desires.” She finished, leaving the crowd murmuring again amongst themselves.

“B—but, princess you are the one who makes the decrees, whatever you desire is—” Purah challenged, as a friend often would when revealing surprises.

“--But nothing, you heard her!” Urbosa’s authoritative voice cut through Purah's protest. “We will wait. These fascinating devices which are held secret are not going anywhere.”

Zelda’s eyes lit up at the words of her dear friend now standing side by side with her. And, a clue she let slip. Fascinating devices? Hmm, I wonder what they could be? The princess stewed on the matter thoughtfully and then sighed.  Alas, the mystery will have to wait. She shook her head, remembering what needed to happen first. First the tourney, then the feast and then, the Trial of the Flame.  

Purah wiped away false tears and relented with a grin, “Fine then, we will wait if it’s the wish of the princess.”

Zelda nodded, her smile reflecting the joy and anticipation of the moment.

“Okay then, you heard her!” Purah announced with a flourish, snapping her fingers in the direction of the men. This included Robbie, who was visibly struggling to coordinate with the others. Beads of sweat adorned his forehead, and although he was evidently flustered – a fact not lost on Zelda from her vantage point – he seemed determined to mask his irritation from her gaze. Purah, on the other hand, reveled in Robbie's discomfort, teasing him with a mischievous glint in her eye to hasten his efforts. “And let’s snap to it! Time to kick off the tourney and get to the real fun! Everyone, clear the field; the show is about to begin!”

As trumpets sounded their jubilant songs, signaling the onset of the festivities, banners of all colors, shapes and sizes fluttered valiantly in the breeze, setting the stage for the acrobats. Tumblers, with their flips and cartwheels, took the field, performing an array of breathtaking acrobatics to the raucous applause and joy of the onlookers. Minstrels sang heartily in their wake, while jugglers hurled their spectacles skyward, some wreathed in dazzling flames, adding to the festive spirit. Amidst this exhilarating frenzy, Zelda signaled to her entourage that it was time to proceed to their seats in the Royal box.

However, as they began to move as a group, Jun discreetly caught the hem of Zelda's gown, his touch feather-light. “My apologies, Your Highness,” he said earnestly, “but the sound of the horns…I think they mean for me to head back to Helmsworth and the others. The tilts are to begin any minute now and he is probably in need of my help. So, if you don’t mind that is, I bid your leave?”

The princess offered a gentle blink of understanding. “Of course, I don’t mind at all. Just be sure to seek me out once your duties with Helmsworth are concluded. The guards are instructed to allow you access. So, please, make sure you’re there. There’s a grand feast planned afterward, and I fully expect to see you.”

Jun’s eyes glinted with anticipation. “Oh, don’t worry! I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” he exclaimed. The prospect of a lavish meal was not something to take lightly for him; such gourmet indulgences were rare treasures in his life, and an opportunity such as this would likely never happen again.

“And when you cross paths with Helmsworth, do convey my apologies if I caused any offense earlier. I’m eagerly awaiting the chance for both of you to join us after the tournament so we can celebrate your victory!”

What happened next took Jun completely by surprise. In his young life, where he thought he had seen it all, this moment caught him flat-footed. Princess Zelda gracefully bent down to his level, her hands gently resting on his shoulders. With a tender motion, she bestowed a soft kiss on each of his cheeks. “And that,” she said, her smile radiating warmth, “is for luck. For both of you. Now, don’t forget to pass along my well-wishes to Helmsworth. I’m certain you two will exceed all expectations.”

Jun was momentarily lost in a daze of warm and fuzzies. While he understood the kisses were in essence truly meant for Link, his young heart couldn’t help but flutter. A girl had kissed him! And not just any girl – possibly the cutest blonde beauty in all the realm. His feet seemed to skip on air as he began to dart away, his steps light with excitement.

But Zelda’s voice halted him once more, her tone laced with suppressed amusement. “Jun, aren’t you forgetting something?” she called out, fighting back a chuckle at his endearing eagerness.

“Oh, yeah! I almost forgot!” exclaimed the boy, his voice brimming with glee as he shook off the whimsical thought of princess kisses. “Here, your mask!”

Zelda, slightly taken aback, eyed him curiously. She couldn’t see any sacks or trunks with him, leaving her to wonder how he could have possibly managed to procure a mask. The boy clasped his hands together, bowed his head slightly with a mischievous grin, and announced, “See you in the tournament!” To her astonishment, he didn’t hand her anything but instead swiftly turned and vanished into the crowd that were left finding their seats, leaving the princess momentarily baffled, her entourage observing quietly at her side.

It was only after he had disappeared and she began to raise her hand to her chin in contemplation that Zelda realized she was, inexplicably, already holding a mask. Urbosa’s mouth opened, marveling also at how he may have conjured up such a magical sleight-of hand.

“But—How?” Zelda murmured, her words trailing off in bewilderment.

Purah, ever observant, leaned in with a knowing glance. “Don’t get too excited, I’ve seen that trick done before. You were clearly distracted,” she said, then added with a hint of admiration, “but I must confess, the little chap is quite talented. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s got some Sheikah blood in him.”

“S--Sheikah? Are you sure?” Zelda’s voice was a mix of intrigue and surprise as she carefully examined the mask in her hands. It was crafted in the shape of an owl, with a golden sheen that suggested brass due to its lightness. The interior was impeccably lined with leather, the stitches seamlessly following the contours. What struck her most was how perfectly the mask seemed to crop her face. She couldn't help but wonder, how could he have known which one would suit her so precisely?

“Well, I can’t be certain,” Purah continued, speculating with a glance at her hand. “He may be Hylian. I mean, he does have brown hair after all--but I suspect some Sheikah blood must flow through his veins if he is able to pull off a stunt like that. Especially, at such a young age.”

“Well, Sheikah or Hylian, I’m certain Helmsworth will be glad to have him in his corner when swords start to sing in the melee,” she said, embracing the mask close to her bosom. “Come, let’s join my father and the others, I’m sure they are expecting us.”

And with that, her retinue nodded and as one procession they all made their way to the throng of pillowed seats and lavish first courses that awaited them.

Outside the stadium, where tournament contenders were gathering, Link found himself negotiating with a smithy under the shadow of a pavilion's flap. Amidst the bustle, the sound of horns echoed from the arena, drawing the smith's attention. “Don’t those horns blowing mean you ought to be in the challengers' pit by now?” he inquired, cupping his ear to better hear the rousing music outside.

“Yeah, they do,” Link admitted, a sense of urgency in his voice. “I’ve only got about ten minutes left. They told me you’re one of the finest metalworkers here for the festival, so I came to you.” He leaned casually against the man’s workbench, eyes scanning the scales and measures laid out.

“You’re heard right!” the man chuckled a full belly laugh.

“Then, could I look at your best blades? And if it isn’t any trouble, could you forge me a hefty set of armor? I have the rupees for it, I think.”

The smith, pausing to take a thoughtful puff from his pipe, his mustache briefly illuminated by the glowing ember, set it down and stood. “Certainly, you’ve come to the right place. My wares are fit for a king and I craft the finest armor around!” he declared proudly.

Link harbored his doubts about the claim but was more focused on functionality than prestige. At this point he didn’t care. So long as it was durable and could get the job done and was worth its price.

As the smith led him along a display row, an array of weapons glistened like deadly ornaments – spears, halberds, axes, and swords. Among them, a peculiar Hytopian powder cannon caught Link’s eye. Resembling a narrow tube with a flared end like a trumpet, and with a decent height standing from boot to shoulder, it was a curious sight indeed.

Link had heard of such oddities from the far side of the world – weapons capable of launching large projectiles with explosive force but has never handled one. He reached out to lift it, surprised by its heft and awkward balance.

Observing Link’s interest, the smith chimed in, “Ah, that one there is quite the beauty, isn’t it? The Hytopian Fire-Lance they call it.” The man chuckled softly as if recollecting the trouble went to obtain such a rare artifact. But I’d advise against using it in a real battle. It's a fickle beast. You’re more likely to blow yourself up and be made a feast for carrion than land your target. Damn thing takes nigh on five minutes to reload a charge too. Best considered a collector's item than a weapon for combat.”

Link nodded in understanding, his fingers gently tracing the strange runes etched into the cannon’s flared end, inscriptions in the native tongue of Hytopia. Even still, the fire-lance captured his imagination. He was only sixteen after all.

“I hear the technology for such devices is still quite new, and those Hytopians haven’t worked out all the details yet,” the smith continued, retrieving the cannon from Link and placing it back on its stand. “From what I’m told, the Hytopians use them more for theatrics than actual combat.” He let out a soft chuckle, then returned to his pipe, taking another leisurely puff. “Yup, put a sturdy bow in my hand and a good quiver of those fancy feathered arrows the Riot use and I could hold off an army of powdermen in the time it takes one to reload.” The man boasted once more, his pride in traditional weaponry evident in his exaggeration as if he recollected tales of his youth forgotten to yesteryears.

Perhaps, he was a soldier prior to taking up smithing, Link guessed. Maybe an old war veteran forced to learn the trade of metalwork after an injury took him off the battlefield. Perhaps, that is why he is so confident in his knowledge of warfare. Whatever he was or is now made no matter, Link had to make a decision and fast.

“Actually, on second thought, I think I’d much prefer the poleaxe,” said Link, reaching for the weapon to pick up.  

“Ah yes, a knight’s true weapon.” The smithy added with confidence. “I can see your aspiration guides you well. You sure know your weapons.”

Link's grip tightened around the poleaxe, feeling its robust and masterfully crafted form. The blade, glinting keenly in the flickering brazier light, was honed to a lethal sharpness, promising precision and depth in each strike. On the opposite end, the hammer, embedded with menacingly pointed studs, projected a sense of unyielding strength. Yet, its heft was meticulously balanced against the blade, ensuring that neither end overpowered the other. This harmony between the two made the weapon not just formidable but also graceful in its execution, a seamless extension of Link's own arm. The poleaxe was a testament to the art of warcraft, blending lethality and agility in equal measure.

“Surprisingly light, isn’t it?” the smithy boasted with evident pride. “That’s castle-forged steel for you, not the common iron you'll find in lesser workshops. No, sir!” he exclaimed, his fist punching the air as if toasting with an invisible mug to cheer.

As Link examined the weapon with interest, the smith continued, “I learned my craft from a master of the Royal Steelhearths Guild when I was just a lad, a few years older than you are now. Not many are given the opportunity, but I was.”

Link raised his eyes, intrigued, still clasping the poleaxe firmly.

“The skill to forge such steel is rare,” the smith went on. “Only a handful of castle smiths today know the secret techniques. It’s an arduous process, but the quality is unmatched. And yet, what we achieve today is but a shadow of a bygone era’s mastery.”

Link’s attention sharpened, his gaze flickering with curiosity at the smith’s words.

The man turned away for a moment, his eyes lingering on an ancient tapestry that depicted the noble lineage of the old Guild. “In the days of old, the great forge-masters held the secrets of the lost dwarven arts of metallurgy. They worked with Dragonsteel, or Magicsteel as it’s commonly known now, but I recall its true name,” he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Crystalline! An unmatched alloy with no rival. Save be the sword of legend, of course.”

He then stepped closer to Link, lowering his voice as if sharing a confidential secret. “If such a blade even exists that is, lying hidden somewhere in the world... But, alas, that knowledge has been lost to time, and what you see here is the pinnacle of what we can achieve today.”

A brief silence fell between them, filled with the weight of history and lost arts. Link, still holding the poleaxe, was drawn out of the reverie by the smith's hearty laughter.

Link relaxed slightly, realizing he was still gripping the weapon. He decided to test its balance with a few expert swings against the air. Swords were symbols of status and skill, but as his father had always taught him, the poleaxe was a true warrior's choice on the battlefield. A sword was a companion for swift escapes, but in the heat of combat, the poleaxe was an ally like no other. This, he decided, would serve him well.

The smith took another leisurely puff from his pipe, his eyes twinkling with the satisfaction of watching Link test out his wares and the delight of closing shop early.

The young man had selected a diverse array of weapons: an arming sword for quick retreats, a lance for the joust, and a handful of daggers for just in case all else fails. “I’ll take it. And the others,” Link declared, his voice brimming with eager anticipation. His eyes shimmered with the thrill of owning his own arsenal for once in his life. “These are great. This will serve me well today.” Yes, with these I may actually have a fair advantage.

 Link wasn’t a cheater by any stretch of the imagination but even still, wanted to have the most favorable odds in his favor. This wouldn’t be easy. The kingdom’s best would be coming out in full force against him.

It was then the smithy had an epiphany, putting two and two together. “Hold on a second, you’re not planning to use these in the tournament, are you?”

Link blinked confused by his meaning. “Well, yeah, why wouldn’t I? why else would I be buying them?”

 “You do understand that there’s rules to this grand affair today, right? Like, for starters, no killing. Gracious me, you can’t use these for the tourney.” The man shook his head, flabbergasted anyone would be so close to the competition and yet, not know the rules. Link held a blank stare, he was unsure. This was the first he heard of such a thing.

“C’mon lad, surely you knew that these sorts of weapons shan’t be used in competition. People left and right would be getting seriously injured or worse. This is a sport, not a battle. It’s about combat, yes, but in a manner that's both jovial and respectful of noble tradition.”

“Then if these can’t be used, what shall I fight with?”

“Well, bronze of course! Why else do you think the challengers will all be clad in plate armor? Because bronze can’t bite iron,” the man chuckled knowingly to himself before adding a clarification. “Well, I guess that isn’t entirely truthful, but for the most part it is. I mean, I suppose if one hacks away hard and long enough anything is possible, but the intent is for spectacle only, not to slay your opponent. The goal is to dose out enough opposing force to subdue them. Either until the pain is too great from the battering or they yield.”

“Well, in that case, I should try and save my rupees and go for boiled leather then.” Link decided. “That way I can afford a meal for me and Jun prior. I hate fighting on an empty stomach and it’s terrible luck too, father always says,” he said, almost assuring himself and the blacksmith. He then raised his glance to meet the man. “Also, plate would be too heavy right? And if I’m swifter on my feet, I may have an advantage against a brute clad in full armor. He may tire out and I can beat him that way.”

Well, yes, and….no, I wouldn’t count on it.” The man shook his head with a sigh. “I don’t recommend boiled leather for this either.”

“Why? Because it’s cheaper?” Link asked suspiciously. “You said weapons used for the tilts aren’t meant to kill or maim.”

“Aye, but accidents do happen, you know. This may be a mummer’s show of war, and rules are in place to prevent travesties from happening, but it’s still a battle. Bronze can tear flesh just as easily as iron can if nicked in the right place. In fact, long ago before the age of heroes, all men fought with bronze.” The middle-aged man explained. “Also, boiled leather may be the cheaper option, but know this, you can bet your opponents will be sparing no expense to guard themselves. You would be left at a disadvantage having constantly to move in close. And by the time a dozen of your strikes had chipped away at their armor, or wretched their sword loose, you’d be cut to ribbons.”

“But don’t you worry, I have a mirrored set of bronze just like those steel ones there.” He assured before shaking his head again to bring up another point to consider. “Also, if you’re planning on wearing armor for the tournament, there’s no way I’d be able to craft you a set in time--but I have plenty of other sets available, shiny and new. Some just your size in fact.”

Feeling a sense of urgency of the time, Link pointed to a suit of steel behind the workbench. “Well, in that case, how about that one there, with the wolf helm, that one looks well enough.”

The smith's laughter resonated heartily, mingling with a fit of coughing as a cloud of pipe smoke got the best of him.  “You’re a funny lad! That’s more than well enough, that’s my finest work. Are you sure you have the sum for it and the weapons. Speaking of which, the bronze counterparts are more costly than iron. They are double. You do know that, right?”

“Double! What? Why?” Link’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Because copper is hard to come by these days now that the old mines at Sunstone Quarry froze over. The miners who once lived there and those brave enough to venture since now call it Winterbane Quarry. For a dark force has awoken and lingers there, causing an eternal winter to befall its mountain summit.”

Hearing the tale even ran a chill up Link’s spine, but he didn’t flinch to let the smithy know it. Nor did he have time to dwell on mysteries of faraway lands.

“How much for the suit then?” Link leaned; arms stretched across the table and dumped out the gems in his wallet all over.

“Well, seeing that the weapons will be bronze, and the suit of mail and plate will be steel, castle forged mind you, your grand total comes out to let’s see…” The man worked over the numbers in his head while he wiggled his mustache and bent his brows back and forth every which way. “I’d say…two-hundred and fifty-three rupees. Ah, heck, let’s just make it an even two-hundred and fifty and we’ll call it square, what do you say? You good with that, lad?”

The price hit Link like a punch to the gut. “Two-hundred and fifty! That’s almost double that I have?” Sheesh, just my luck, first that pigheaded enlister and now the blacksmith is standing in my way.

“Well, like I said, bronze costs double. And that fancy suit you picked was for another. But even so, I was willing to sell it to you because you are here and now. So, what is it going to be?”

“Look, I need to be in this tournament, that’s why I need these wares. Please, what do I need to do?”

“Well, the wares you seek come with a price, and you lack the rupees to afford such a suit of mail and plate, I’m afraid.”

“But I haven’t anymore rupees, I’m giving you all I have. I swear, if I would have known I’d be robbed of a fair price at this festival, I would have never sold my family’s sword.” Link said quietly, almost to himself, yet the smith heard.

“Look, I’m not cheating you lad. I feel for you. I really do, but I’ve got a business to run. I can’t be handing out charity to every hopeful boy or bloke that comes stumbling under my tent flap.”

A wave of new trumpets blared, this time signaling the quieting of the songs and merrymaking, ushering the start of the tourney. Panic set in for Link.

“Look, I’m running out of time, is there anything else I can do? If I win, I’ll give you half the bounties I collect, I swear. I won’t cheat you.” His eyes flashed sincere, yet the man had to stew a moment on it before deciding.

“I don’t doubt your honesty, I just doubt your sword arm. I’m sorry, I’ve seen the men enlisted and they will chew you up and spit you out, boy. Perhaps, a suit of boiled leather may suffice. That is, if you’re still bent on competing That I’m sure you can afford. And perhaps, with that and the bronze you may be able to walk out of here.”

“But, you said I would hardly stand a chance with leather?”

“Aye, but a slim chance is still a chance. How bad do you want this?”

Link’s fists clenched at his sides, his eyes alight with an unwavering resolve. “More than you can imagine.”

“I can imagine quite a lot,” the man chuckled, on the verge of wanting to help more when he realized Link’s state of dress. He was already wearing gear and up until now, it just dawned on him why he couldn’t use it.

 The shopkeeper was so wrapped up with making a sale he didn’t take a moment to consider the situation of Link’s uniform he wore. “Hmm, well if you like, if you’re willing to trade the armor you already have on, you know, the Royal Gear you shouldn’t be wearing, I might make an exception to match the missing rupees you lack.” He said, leaning arms stretched over the counter as if to strike a deal.

“But, know this, it will involve a great deal of effort from me to melt down and work. I’m sure you’re aware that you don’t need me to tell you that I can’t give you the suit of armor you fancied custom crafted. There’s no way it would be ready, but what I can do is give you a spare set already made. It’s used, but still shines strong and true. What do you say?”

“Well, what about the new wolf one there? Does this deal cover that?”

“I’m sorry, but even with the armor you give me, you still wouldn’t be able to afford it. The work alone I’d have to do to use your—”

“--Okay, fine, you got a deal. I’ll take the old set. I must hurry,” Link said adamantly.

“Very well, then lad, let’s see. With the set you’re giving me and the rupees for all that you want purchased, your new total comes out to oh—One hundred and ten rupees. Fair enough?”

Link quickly tallied his gems, relieved to find he had just enough, with a mere seven rupees to spare. He could only hope that seven was indeed a lucky number. He was going to need every bit of it in the tilts.

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, before you run off there. Aren’t you going to need a bow too? Ya know, for the archery trial?”

“Archery trial?” Goddess, what else is next? Link thought.

“Well, yeah, of course. They are testing all the skills that make up a true warrior worthy for the final trials.”

“Ugh,” Link felt defeated already, so much for the luck. He hadn’t the rupees left for a bow. Not even close.

It was then that out of nowhere, when all his hope seemed lost, Jun, the bright-eyed squire rushed in through the tent flap. “Sir! There you are, I found you. You have no idea how many of these jerks I had to—”

Link spun to cut him off. “Never mind that, Jun, have they started the tourney yet?”

“No, I told them they better wait if they know what’s good for them. I told the herald guarding the front that if he starts calling names before were ready I make him eat that trumpet.”

“You didn’t?” Link said, shocked by the boy’s bravado.

“I sure did,” Jun said proudly, not before realizing what was happening around him. “But, wait a minute…What are you doing?”

Link replied with a hint of sarcasm, “Oh, you know, just enjoying some tea.”

“Huh?” Jun looked puzzled for a moment.

“I’m buying gear, what does it look like? How else am I to contend without weapons and armor of my own?”

“Well, did you find anything you like?”

“Lots I like,” Link noted.

“Then let’s go. What are we waiting for? She’s expecting us to put on a good show, you know?”

“Who?” interrupted the shopkeeper.

“The princess of course, who else!” Declared Jun. The boy looked at the man curiously and leaned back for a question. “Who are you again?”

“I, my lad, am the—”

“He’s the smith,” Link cut him off. ‘There’s no time to explain. It’s his shop.”

“Well, let’s go already.” Jun insisted. “I don’t really feel like dealing with that herald again if I don’t have to.”

“I can’t yet.”

“Why?”

“Because he has yet to buy a bow.” Explained the smithy. “And unfortunately for him, he hasn’t the rupees for one.”

“Geeze, why didn’t you just say so, here, take mine.” Jun said nonchalantly as if it was no big deal at all. “How much does he owe?”

Link nearly fell over. “You had rupees the entire time!? What!?”

“No, not the entire time, but I do now. Take mine.”

Link considered for a moment. “I can’t use your rupees Jun, they are yours. It isn’t right of me to ask you for them. I’ll have to make do another way—"

“--Nonsense, they are ours,” Insisted the boy, spilling a sack of gems on the table. “And besides, the jackpot we get from the tournament will be more than enough to pay back, no sweat. I want to win this thing and I need you to do so.”

The shopkeeper's eyes sparkled at the sight of Jun’s gems, while Link, seeing the determination in Jun’s eyes and realizing the practicality of the offer, gave in. The boy had a stubborn streak in him and well, he did have the right of it. The money earned from the bounties surely would be enough to pay back whoever the rupees belonged to. But, he’ll speak to him about that later. Right now, he just needed a bow and quickly.

“Well then, everything seems in order,” the shopkeeper remarked, meticulously counting the rupees. “That's one hundred and seventy-seven. This will certainly fetch you a fine bow, one from my private collection. Brand new too.” He hurried over to where a series of bows were displayed, each hanging elegantly like a tapestry on a wooden rack. “Ah, here,” he said, selecting one. “Try this one with your arm. How does it feel?”

Link grasped the bow, immediately noticing its balanced weight and the smoothness of its finish.

“That’s deku cedar, you know,” He said with a smirk. “All the way from Hebra Holdfast. It’s Ritoan. Feel that pull?”

Link drew on the string and it nearly took his breath away. “I—I don’t feel anything? How is that possible--?” he said, shocked.

“Exactly…” the man said proudly. Jun, too, watched in awe. The bow was a work of art, adorned with silver inlays and colorful, yet menacing looking feathers along its curve.

The man continued. “The Rito have devised a magical mechanism by which there is no flex against the forearm when the bow is drawn. Exquisite, isn’t it? You merely aim and loose with hardly any effort. A man can launch arrows all day and never tire.”

“This is perfect,” Link said, a genuine smile breaking across his face for the first time in hours. He shared a glance with Jun, who nodded encouragingly, as if urging him not to waste another second.

Link spoke. “I’ll take this, the others, and the used suit of armor—”

“Oh, no my lad. You misunderstand me.”

Oh no, what now, Link thought, bracing for another obstacle.

The shopkeeper continued with a jovial laugh, “With the rupees your friend here provided, and the armor you're trading in, you’ll be glad to hear you have more than enough. Not just for this exquisite bow, but also for the wolfen suit of armor.” He reached for his pipe once again, content with the deal well struck. 

The smithy added with another chuckle. "I must say, you know how to pick your weapons well. I might close ups shop early. You're a lad with royal tastes."

Jun jovially elbowed Link before he could reply. "Oh, he definitely has royal tastes, alright." 

By sheer reflex, Link reacted with a swift hand and gave Jun a clout on the ear from behind. "Hey, what was that for!?" the young squire whined, rubbing the soreness. "Sheesh, is that how you say thank you?"

"Thanks." Was all that Link managed to say, before glancing down to give a sideways smirk. That ought to teach him a little manners, I hope. 

Jun smiled back and the smithy spoke a final word on the matter. "Best of luck to the both of ya, go get em!"

And with that, Link and his squire joyfully took the wares and made off to the challenger's pit to await introduction.

Authors Notes: Hello friends, this one was a doozy and I’m not an expert author, so please, if you enjoyed it, let me know with a comment and kudos. Thanks so much and until next time, stay well wherever you are in Hyrule

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why we failed One-Hundred Years ago

Pt.10

A Song of Storms

The trench, acting as an open hallway surrounded by wooden walls to the grand arena, was a maelstrom of noise and activity. The dank air was heavy with the cold sweat of nervous contenders and the smoky tendrils from the fires of those who had camped since the eve before. Here, Link and his young squire, Jun, only eleven winters old, stood shoulder to shoulder in the boot-slippery mud, surrounded by other aspirants. They were funneled through a narrow corridor that separated them from the roaring crowds. The distant cheers from the stands beyond the walls, especially the royal box filled with foreign dignitaries and highborn guests, were a heady mix of mirth and anticipation.

Upon entry into the challenger's pit which was a seething cauldron of warriors, Link and Jun were met with a scene of marshalling fervor. Armored men, their steel glinting in the dappled sunlight, devoured slices of roasted wild boar at crude benches, while others, brimming with eagerness, galloped on horseback, honing their skills against wooden quintains that rang out with each successful lance strike. Others loosed arrows at straw targets, their bowstrings singing a deadly song as their shafts whispered in the air, and swordsmen clashed against pells in a rhythmic dance. The atmosphere was electric with nervous anticipation; everyone sensed that this would be no ordinary tourney and the inaugural tilts were about to commence. The nature of their tests were still veiled in mystery.

As Link and Jun approached, seasoned wandering knights and men at arms seeking to showcase their valor in the hopes that this lord or that may take them into their service cast wary glances at the youthful duo. Even dressed-up mercenaries no better than common cutthroats from distant lands judged the pair as they marched by. But neither Link's resolve nor Jun's innocent courage wavered. Link knew he had the skills, honed over a lifetime of training, and Jun – well, Jun was his unwavering self.

Link was acutely aware that this event was more than just a tournament; it was a marketplace of men, a grand stage where the future of many would be decided. Nobles of every rank and stature were perched like peacocks in the stands, their keen eyes searching for warriors whose prowess on the field could be an asset in their courts. Sure, the main event was to find the solo champion who would be given the distinct honor and opportunity to serve the crown, but for most they had their sights set on other prizes. They wouldn't even have to be victorious in the tournament to achieve their goals. Even if only they won a few matches and showed their prowess they would catch the eye of a liege to be and that would be enough to garner their favor.

Even former cutthroats, often shunned by law, sought the tournament as a means to cleanse their reputations and seek a chance to enter the service of even a petty lord if it came to it. Anything would be better than their way of life. They offered hopefuls a full belly and a guaranteed home under a roof, walls and a warm hearth to rest their head at night. Which sure sounded a lot better than wandering the wilderness, and venturing forsaken roads, having to sleep with an eye open and knife in hand to guard against the perils that the vast unknown brought.

Even leaders from those from beyond the borders of Hyrule watched with avaricious eyes, eager to snatch up any leftover talent that might bolster their ranks. Most knights and men at arms of valor would shun the idea of serving an outlander, their honor and loyalty to Hyrule ingrained deep within their hearts. But honor was a luxury that cutthroats could ill afford. To them, allegiance was as changeable as the wind, and the prospect of better fortunes could easily tempt them to renounce their fealty to Hyrule as soon as they stepped off the tourney grounds safely beyond the borders with their new masters. For they went where the rupees were, no matter where that led.

Link and his young squire both decided with a shared glance that they wanted a hot meal in their belly before things were to begin. Who knew when the next chance they would get. So, they walked over to a line where others were waiting to be served steaming bowls of pottage. A basic meal, but hearty and delightful if prepared fresh, nonetheless. They wouldn't be able to afford the thick slabs of roasted boar, which was even a far-cry from what the royals would be served in their galleys. They would be delightfully feasting on the sweeter meat of its piggy cousin, prized castle-bred hogs, raised for this very occasion. A much finer delicacy and without the gamey taste wild boar had in which commons would be served, if one had the gems.

Oh, how Link would like to try a trimming of either. Both were exquisite by his taste. But he knew better, they had hardly enough rupees as it were. So the pottage smelled as good as any. And besides, anything was better than the meager rations of salted beef slivers or stale corn cakes he and the other cadets would endure during demise week. Salted beef at best when soaked in water for a day chewed like leather but often when not was tough as wood planks when dry. Link can still taste the acrid after taste they left when he had been forced to make do with them for subsistence. Just remembering their bitter flavor on the back of his tongue made him desperate to cleanse his palate.

As they walked over to the line, Link lifted the visor to his shiny, new wolf-helm to speak since it would be some time for them to be served. "Look, I'm not going to ask where you got that money from earlier and honestly, I don't want to know."

Jun remained silent, opting to act like he couldn't hear or the very least pretend like he didn't know what Link was talking about. The boy decided to change the subject. "Do you think they'll let me carry your banner. Come to think of it, do you even have a banner? What is your sigil?" he asked, feigning interest while cupping his chin as they stood at the back of the line.

Link, undistracted, pressed on the matter of the mysteriously acquired rupees. His words carried the weight of a stern but fair mentor. "Don't change the subject," his brows bent. "Those rupees were stolen, don't try to deny it."

Jun's silence was telling, his stillness a sign of admission. Link, not one to relent, pressed on with a stern resolve, tempered by a hint of understanding. "And after the tournament, when we win, we're going to return every gem, understood?" His voice was more than a command; it was a lesson in honor.

Jun's posture deflated slightly, the weight of his actions dawning upon him. "Ah but sir, c'mon—I had to, I had no choice—"

There it was again, that word. Sir. It still felt strange hearing it. Truth be told he wasn't an even ordained knight yet and in fact was not much older than Jun, being only six and ten himself. And although he has learned a lot, in his heart he knew he had yet still to learn of the ways of war. But even with that, he was determined to lead the boy squire beside him as best he could. Like his father or commander Athelon would do. For he was at the proper age where a lad is expected to become a man, where eager youths aspire to etch their names in the annals of history alongside heroes from past ages.

Shaking off these contemplative thoughts, Link interjected; his tone unyielding yet not unkind. "No buts, Jun. We always have a choice." He spoke as he imagined his father would, a lesson he may have been forced to endure if it were he who had been caught with sticky fingers. Speaking with a wisdom that belied his youth. "The goddess doesn't favor cheats and thieves."

Reluctantly, Jun acquiesced, his youthful exuberance tempered by the gravity of his promise. "Ugh, fine. But only after we win! Deal? I promise, I'll sneak them back into the pocket of the fat man I took them from. He won't even notice they were gone."

"Oh," Link's eyes opened wide. "So, you do admit you stole?"

"Um, I—" Jun felt caught like a Goron in a lake, about to sink.

"Enough." Link commanded. But even with his stern voice he couldn't help feeling a tinge sorry for the lad, after all, it was to help him. Not to mention he knows all to well better than most what it's like to come from nothing. To fight for your place in the world. This probably was all the poor boy knew. A life of constant survival. Link couldn't resist the small curling of a smirk forming from the pretended frown he wore. So, he turned his head, playing the part of a thoughtful mentor, pretended to ponder over Jun's earlier proposal before the lad could see the game. After a moment of contemplation, he agreed. "Okay, then, if you swear, we have a deal. So long as you promise to return them. But first, tell me something, Jun…"

"What is it Sir?"

"Why are you helping me? There's no skin in the game for you." Link faced the boy with a questioning gaze but even with that, the lad resisted any urge to tell him.

Jun, caught off guard by the question, hastily deflected. "What? Are you crazy? And miss an opportunity for glory? I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"Really, glory you say. Is that all?"

"Of course!"

Link, unconvinced, probed further. "But why me? There are plenty of honorable knights and warriors here, veterans of real battles. I'm only a handful of years older than you. Why choose me over them?"

Jun hesitated, his fists clenched, his eyes alight with an unmistakable fire of determination. "Because... because you're going to show them. You'll beat those highborn lords at their own game, show them we're just as good as any of them. That's why I want to be by your side."

Link fell silent, contemplating the boy's impassioned words. The depth of Jun's belief in him stirred something within, a mix of responsibility and determination.

Jun, sensing Link's introspection, added, "You will beat them, right? The princess believes, and so do I?"

She does? Link, his resolve firming, nodded. "I hope so. I'm not planning to lose if that's what you're wondering. I need a steed to call my own, after all. And that takes money. The armor and weapons were just the first bit and I still need honest weapons if I'm to knight. We've a big challenge ahead of us, I hope you're ready."

Jun's confidence wavered momentarily, but Link was quick to bolster his spirits. "But don't worry, we have to return those stolen rupees one way or another. And I mean to do so."

"So, you think we'll win?" Jun's eyes sparkled with hope.

Link, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, replied, "Well, if you're as adept on the field, swift on your feet and sharp of wits as you are at lifting purses, I'd say our odds are as good as anyone's."

Reassured, Jun's spirits lifted. "After we win, we'll make it right. I promise." For a fleeting second, Link noticed a curious sheen in Jun's irises, a red glint that vanished as quickly as it flickered, leaving him wondering. It must have been the glimmer of light coming from a nearby brazier, that's all, Link surmised. Because when he glimpsed again, they were brown as always.

A chorus of cheers and applause suddenly erupted beyond the confines of the pit where the audience anticipated their triumphant emergence. And with that a solidary trumpet blared a song as well to hush the crowd so they could hear the muffled words of a herald clamoring up the wooden steps to bellow a decree to those in their seats eagerly awaiting the grand spectacle to commence.

Link shushed Jun with a finger for them to listen and wait. "Uh, oh, I think it's about to begin."

"But sir, what about your mount? You have your armor and weapons, but we have yet to find you a trusty steed for the jousts."

"There he is, that's the lad I was telling you about!" Bellowed the delighted voice of a middle-aged man interrupting Jun. To Link's amazement it was that same port-bellied middle-aged man with slender arms from before. The same one who had allowed them to enlist in the tourney by striking a deal to trade Link's family relic for a sack of gems.

His voice sliced through the bustling crowd like a knife, pointing and raising attention at Link for a fellow impresario to notice, who stood beside a table cluttered with a gambler's hoard: bags of gleaming rupees and scales for measuring, a veritable treasure trove that whispered of bounties won and lost. A scene right out of a bard's tale, where fortunes hung in the balance, and every wager was a story waiting to be told.

Link, momentarily taken aback by the middle-aged man's boisterous declaration, responded with a blend of humor and incredulity, "Oh, so you changed your mind and think I'll win the day, eh?" The words danced out of him, light and jesting, an echo of his unshaken confidence.

The old man's response came with a snort, as brash as his demeanor. "Are you kidding?"

Link blinked back confused.

"I'm counting on you to lose and go down in the first minute," the man declared, his crooked smile revealing yellow teeth stained by a life of indulgences. " That's what I'm here for!"

With a flourish, he placed a sack of gems onto the scales, the stones inside winking like mischievous eyes in the brazier light under the canopy. "There's a massive fortune in it for me if you fall in the jousts or in the melee. If you can last until then that is."

It was then Link noticed his companion across from him, a man of curious distinction, neither a noble nor a commoner, stood out like a peacock among pigeons as he played at his salt and pepper sideburns, eyes ashine with delight at the glistening loot before him. So, this must be the fellow he was placing bets with.

Adorned with amulets and trinkets that clinked and clattered with his every move, he exuded the air of a merchant prince—a man who swam in the murky waters between the world of nobility and the common folk. For this was the wage master who carried the ledger holding all the levies and bounties for those eager to scratch an itch these next few days and come out a little richer. Though most would leave with their pockets turned out.

Link, still feeling the sting of the man's words inside, managed to shake off the insult nonchalantly. After all, he has endured far worse before while growing up. Having to stand rank and file beside other young cadets who unlike him came from long lines of noble birth with family names dating back to the age of heroes. What was his family name again? He couldn't even say, it was dust. The fishmongers on the narrow docks had a better claim to being a knight than he did. Nope, he would have to earn his way, stripe by stripe. Sword in hand.

"Only the first minute?" Link queried, his tone a mix of confusion and challenge, a verbal parry to the man's thrust. Astonished how someone could have such low favor of opinion of his skill just by judging his youth and looks alone.

The man, engrossed in his transaction with the wage master yet sly as a fox, tossed a glance over his shoulder, his straggly hair a disheveled crown. "Look, I like you, you have guts kid, but I like rupees more. If you ask me, I say you should quit while you're still ahead and in one piece. But let me know now if you do so I can place other holdings."

Link's hesitation to rebuttal had the man's attention and made him pause. A moment of vulnerability that was as brief as a shooting star. Sensing this, the man halted the wage master's hand with a firm swat before he could remove the purse off the scale, the tension in the air as taut as a bowstring. Unsure if the bet would be going forward at all.

For a fleeting moment, doubt crept into Link's mind, the thought of withdrawing from the tournament rollcall briefly flickered. But Link, steadfast as the ancient trees of Hyrule, shook his head of the suggestion. And just as the doubt came it vanished like summer snow and Link stood firm in his resolve. After all he had Jun to consider as well. They both needed the prize money and bounties. It has gone too far now. "I can't do that," he affirmed.

"That's a good lad." The man shrugged; a gesture as casual as a breeze. "It won't be long now; I'll be sippin' the finest red that Chateau Cremia has to offer. None of that Crimson Courage that aspiring heroes seek. No sir, tonight I'll make do with its sister pairing, much sweeter and dazzles the tongue of fair ladies better." He said, Leaning in to Link's ear conspiratorially to share a crude secret, his breath already sour by stale ale and onions. "I even hear it loses their skirts better than that of its hearty brother too." Link pulled away, unimpressed.

The man continued. "But I suppose you'll need a cup of the former? For the battles?" The man joked, poking fun at Link entering the tourney and the wage master mockingly laughed in agreement. He then reached for a mug he had set on the table earlier and lifted it up to his lips which had your common brew found in the barrels which were brought onto the festival grounds.

With a gasp of refreshment, he wiped the foam from his chin and spoke. "Yep, if all goes well, beautiful maidens will be licking my feet before the night is through," he conceded, unable to contain a grin forming a crescent moon in the night of his patchy shadow on his chin, as he relinquished his gems to the merchant. Link wasn't sure if should have been disgusted by that visual or feel pity on the fellow.

Parting with a final, roguish quip, the man declared, "Thanks again for not backing out. After all, someone must lose and that's all the better for me. I needed me a sweet horse to bet the fall on and you're just the fellow to strike me rich."

As the man escaped into the sea of spectators, leaving the challenger's pit, his cucco cackle of laughter could be heard cascading through the air like the chime of broken bells, leaving Link beside himself. The scents of the tournament, the cacophony of voices, and the anticipation in the air wrapped around him like a cloak.

Link felt the sudden pat on the back of his companion in arms, Jun, glancing up to him with encouraging eyes. "Don't worry sir, he's wrong. We won't lose."

Link nodded in agreement, reinvigorated by the trust found in his new squire. This was more than a competition; it was a crucible in which heroes were forged, and Link, with the steadfast Jun at his side, were ready to prove their mettle. As they went back to find their place in line they quickly made it to the the front and the pot shop handed them their steaming bowls of pottage, the warmth of the food would comfort against the chill air. It was then that Jun's eyes flickered, drawn to something in the shadows beyond, between the arena walls and the corridor leading to their current location. Other contestants were also bustling by.

Link noticed the change in Jun's expression, his brow furrowing with concern. Before he could voice his question, Jun quickly spoke up. "Hey, could I just have one moment."

"What? What is it?" Link asked, his voice laced with confusion.

"Um, it's nothing. It's just…Just one second, okay? I promise I will be right back," Jun assured, his tone a mix of urgency and evasion.

"Who's over there?" Link pressed, his gaze following Jun's.

"Nobody, it's just that I forgot something back at your tent," Jun replied, his voice a little too casual.

"That's a half a league away! They will be calling for us any minute now," Link protested, his concern growing. "We still need a mount!"

"Trust me, okay? Don't worry! I'll be back in time, I promise. In fact, I just remembered, I didn't leave it in your tent at all," Jun said hurriedly, his words a jumble of half-truths and quick thinking. "And I'll get your mount handled!"

Link's confusion deepened. "Huh? You're not making sense, Jun, what's going on?"

"It's a surprise, to help us…uh, win. That's all," Jun blurted out, a hint of mischief in his tone as he stepped away.

"But weren't you starving?" Link inquired, his eyes betraying his bewilderment.

"I'll be fine, just eat mine for me. Besides, you look like you can do well with it in your belly instead of mine. You're going to need your strength after all!" Jun said with a quick grin, trying to lighten the mood.

"O—okay then," Link agreed, albeit reluctantly, rubbing the back of his head in bemusement.

The pot boy, impatient with the holdup, called out to them. "Hey, you're holding up the line, get going, will ya?"

"Yeah, sure, sorry…" Link muttered, walking away with two helpings of pottage. He was torn between waiting for his squire to eat, devouring both servings right then, or heading to the staging area. His stomach growled, echoing his inner debate – he was indeed famished enough to consume both. After glancing at the steaming bowls he noticed Jun had already vanished back through the corridor, a growing sense of intrigue about what his squire was up to.

In the challenger's pit, the air was filled with the sounds of clanking armor and the murmur of eager competitors, a symphony that underscored the unfolding drama between the knight-to-be and his mysterious squire. Link, holding the bowls of pottage, stood amidst this cacophony, a lone figure caught in a moment of uncertainty and the anticipation of what was yet to come.

In the shadowed space between the bustling arena and the challengers' pit, a tense and clandestine meeting unfolded, far removed from the excitement and noise of the tournament. Jun, his heart racing with a mix of fear and conflict, confronted two figures from his past, both posing as contenders. The air around them was thick with the tension of secrecy and the subtle scent of danger.

"What are you doing here? Are you mad? Someone might see you!" Jun hissed, his eyes darting around nervously, ensuring their conversation remained hidden from prying eyes.

The first man, a burly, ugly figure with a demeanor as mean as a hinox, spoke with a gruff voice that contrasted sharply with the lively sounds of the tournament. "Easy kid, we're here to watch you and your new friend there and make sure you do what needs doing when the time comes. You're acting a little too friendly with that Hylian soldier boy for my taste."

"Not at all," Jun replied quickly, his voice a whisper of defiance.

His comrade, lanky with a scarred face, a visage telling of a harsh life, pressed further. "You ain't getting any ideas now, would you be? The sensei needs to know if you're still committed."

Jun felt a wave of internal conflict wash over him. He was torn between his duty to the cause and the unexpected bonds he had formed with Link and Princess Zelda. "Look, I don't give a damn about any of them! I'm just doing what needs to be done to earn their stupid trust." Inside, Jun wavered. For all his brash words, he found an unexpected kinship with Link. The notion of being taken under someone's wing as a squire was new to him. The first time ever anyone gave him the time of day. And the princess was unlike any Hylian royalty he had imagined. He had always thought their type cruel, since that what he has been brought up to believe. But she had been anything but. But he masked his doubts well, not letting the brute before him sense his inner turmoil.

"Well do it, and quickly," the lanky man chided, his voice low and threatening.

"Yeah, because we're watching you kid. One wrong step and—" the burly man gestured a throat-slashing motion, a stark and chilling contrast to the festive atmosphere just yards away.

"I get it, stop your worrying," Jun complained, his voice tinged with frustration. "Just stay the hell out of my way before you both screw this whole thing up. Or your ugly mugs are likely to find themselves on spikes, and my own head likely beside them if you get caught." He groaned, the seriousness of the situation weighing heavily on him. "And I like my head just where it is, thank you very much."

The two men exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them as they considered Jun's request. They realized the importance of giving him the chance to prove himself, acknowledging his valid point about not attracting attention.

"Very well, then, but we are still going to enlist to be near you in case something goes sour and we all need to get the hell out of here fast," the ogre of a man replied, his voice gruff but conceding.

"That's fine, but perhaps, before you both run off. I'm going to nee your purses. Or one of them."

"What? You have some nerve kid, is this some sort of joke?"

"Hardly, I need the rupees."

"You've got to be kidding, no way—"

"-You will give me the money, or shall I be the one that tells the Sensei that you betrayed his loyal servant in fulfilling his duties? I need the rupees, now. It's for the mission."

A fire raged in the man's eyes, but knew he had to acquiesce to the demands of the boy.

Reluctantly he slapped a small sack of gems into the boy's grasp.

"But remember, we're watching you. No slip-ups. No do-overs, or spikes will be the least of your worries," the lanky man added, his warning clear and ominous.

In this hidden corner, away from the eyes of the tournament's attendees, the trio's conversation was a stark reminder of the dangerous game Jun was entangled in, a game that threatened to unravel at the slightest misstep.

Unlike the challenger's pit, which was dank, smelled of sweat and had been anything but opulent, the royal box at the tournament was a grand spectacle in itself, a luxurious and perfumed oasis amidst the excitement and clamor of the event. Perched in the heart of the watchers' stands, it commanded the best view of the arena, a privilege befitting royalty. The booth was adorned with lavish pillows and tapestries that whispered tales of ancient heroics and courtly intrigue. At its center stood a large, horseshoe-shaped ornate table, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, laden with the finest delicacies, ready to host a feast fit for kings and queens.

Those seated within this bastion of opulence would be reserved for figures of great import: the king, to be surrounded by his closest advisors; Princess Zelda and her court, radiant in their royal finery; the three high lords of the realm, each a pillar of power and influence; the ambassador of Hytopia, resplendent in diplomatic grandeur; and the esteemed emissaries of the Gorons, the Rito, and the proud Zora Royal Family. King Dorephan, a figure of immense stature, could even recline comfortably in a seat specially crafted to support his massive size, a testament to the ingenuity of the builders.

The royal booth itself was a marvel of engineering and artistry, constructed from the rarest of timbers, Deku Cedar, known for not only its beauty but strength above all else. This was no ordinary wood, but a material that spoke of ancient forests and time-honored traditions when fairies still roamed the world.

Above the royal enclosure, the petty lords found their seats, slightly removed from the spectacle yet still privileged with their own comforts. There they would haggle their bets and squabble the details of winners and losers when all was said and done. They had small tables to hold their treats and delicacies, a nod to their status, albeit less grandiose than that of the royals.

Adjacent to the royal enclosure and the deck below, the higher nobility were seated. They enjoyed a proximity that allowed them to engage in conversation with the royals and their distinguished guests, a position that signified their elevated standing in the realm.

Descending further, the merchant class occupied their benches. Though they lacked tables, their presence was a testament to their growing influence and importance in the kingdom's affairs.

Finally, at the ground level, the heart of the kingdom – the common folk – gathered. Many stood near the picket line, craning their necks for a glimpse of the action, their voices a chorus of excitement and awe.

Among this diverse assembly, Link's father, a commoner by birth but elevated by duty, was granted an audience with the king. Not as a guest, but as a vigilant soldier, the esteemed captain of the King's Guard. Beside him stood two fellow soldiers: Finn, who had earlier played a pivotal role in Link's clandestine meeting with the princess, and Grinn, who had shaken his earlier 'sickness' to stand duty. That is, if he can manage the effort to stand on his own two feet.

The three high lords, who would be seated to the right of the king, would also be accompanied by their own retainers and household guards, a display of loyalty and the unspoken bonds of fealty that wove through the tapestry of the kingdom.

Seated next to Zelda was young Lord Arasmus, who took the opportunity to display his status to the other lords around and let the knowing be known that he, was closest to the crown. Zelda didn't fight the placement; she was much more concerned with the tournament ahead of them that she almost forgot he was sitting right beside her when he ruined the tranquil air and spoke.

"I didn't know your father enjoyed Cremia wine so much?" Arasmus commented, a teasing lilt in his voice as he pointed to her father, who was sharing a hearty laugh with his own sire. There was an unexpected kindness in his tone, albeit laced with his usual bravado.

Zelda wouldn't be played so easily like the sweet little fiddle he thought she was and only smiled back tactfully with a friendly chirp. "Neither did I, but, this is a special occasion after all."

"Indeed, by this time in three days you'll have ascended to your rightful place."

His father was indeed the high chancellor to the king and the second most powerful man in the realm. Zelda's eyes watched their guests finding their seats near them and hoped to have spotted her uncle among them.

"Ah, look my princess. Your friends have arrived." Entering the lavish booth walked in one of her attendees followed by Revali and a fellow Rito. Lord Arasmus was quick to size him up silently, and Zelda nodded politely at the mention of them.

"Please friends, welcome of you to join us!" the lord declared as the other found their places. Zelda's own father and his father were also seated not too far behind them as well, discussing their own matters with shared whispers.

Impa seated to her other side squeezed her leg under the table. "Don't fret, your uncle and Purah will be here shortly. Some business with lose large contraptions from earlier."

Zelda whispered back to where she could only hear, not that Arasmus was concerned with the thoughts of maidens anyway. He was above that of course. "I hope so, because I'm going to go mad if I have to sit here and hear him speak all day."

Sitting beside Arasmus to his side was the seneschal. A fancy robed man and the host of this grand affair, tasked to put on the tournament. He had been sipping his own cup and telling pearl-clutching japes of his own to his friends beside him before turning to listen what the young lord of Drane had to say next.

Lord Arasmus, a dashing yet haughty figure of twenty, addressed Princess Zelda with a tone of condescension disguised by charm. "Well, it appears my Sweet Sundelion has found herself a top contender to throw in her lot with for tonight's festivities. A young commoner named Helmsworth it would seem has caught her intrigue from afar."

"Is that so? Do tell. Now this I got to hear." Hooted the skinny weasel of a seneschal, reaching for a goblet of the finest of Cremia Reds. Whenever he laughed, he would do so emphatically as if you said the funniest thing ever. The curls of his hair would bounce annoyingly at the side of his ears. A weasel he was, but one that Zelda could withstand. That being said he wasn't without intrigue and uses-and was always friendly to her, yet he was known to be misguided in his judgements. One could be certain that if he laid wagers on a prized warrior, the wisest would know to always bet against his premonitions. A man who lady luck forsaken a long time ago.

Arasmus, enjoying the game of words, continued, "It is. A funny story really. It would have been entertaining if it wasn't so ridiculous. You see, a young page earlier today declared they will be victorious in the tilts before the main trials. A boy of nine of all things. What was it he said earlier, Sundelion? The greatest prospect in all the tournament? Is that right?"

Zelda, her gaze steady and unyieldingly looking away to the field, corrected him, her voice firm yet measured. "You heard him. And he isn't a page, he's a squire." She reached for a grape from the pewter bowl to sweeten her tongue of the sourly words she wanted to spit at him yet reframed from doing so.

"Really, such a scrawny thing," Arasmus remarked, his eyes scanning the crowd with a dismissive air. Others chuckled in agreement at the preposterous notion. "I be amazed if he could even hold up a sword."

"And he will be ten and two in just a few short weeks," Zelda added, her tone implying a defense of the young squire's honor. Her court among those present remained vigilant on her side, also in unappreciation his tone.

Arasmus, shifting his focus back to Zelda, asked with a mock sincerity, "And, is that what you really think, my dear? That this illusive and illustrious champion of yours could really go the distance?"

Zelda, her patience fraying at the edges, yet, containing her charm retorted, "Since when have you ever cared about what I actually think?"

"I always care about the feelings and thoughts of who would be my betrothed," Arasmus replied, his words dripping with insincerity.

"Betrothed!" Zelda began, whispering to only where he can hear. "First it was let's take it slow and keep up appearances, then—" her voice rose slightly, a hint of frustration seeping through.

At that moment, Zelda was hastily interrupted by a firm, discreet squeeze beneath the table before others could hear her complain. Her most loyal scribe and handmaiden, Impa, silently cautioned patience with the pressure of her hand. Zelda paused, taking a deep breath, the scent of the spread of delights momentarily grounding her. Though she was anything but hungry. The nervous bellyflies on behalf of Helmsworth have seen to that. But, all the same, she composed herself, her expression a mask of calm, even as her eyes betrayed a storm of emotions.

"You're right. Let's see who the goddess finds favor this evening." She said instead, putting up the best phony smile she could radiate to them.

Around them, the clinking of silverware, the rustle of fine garments, and the subdued conversations of the other nobles created a backdrop to their exchange. The tension between Arasmus and Zelda was palpable, a dance of words and wills performed under the watchful eyes of the realm's most distinguished figures. Despite the lavish setting and the array of delicacies before them, the true feast was the interplay of power and subtlety at this high table of intrigue. Only then did a solitary trumpet blow to interrupt them, a song to call all to attention. This time, the grand herald himself would be addressing all in attendance. It was now time for the brave challengers to take to the field.

All watched with intrigue and suspense as the man boomed his loud croaking voice for all to hear his declaration. "By order of her new grace and heir apparent, in her divine wisdom that blesses us all, this year's rules have been changed. Instead of ransoms paid directly to the victor of each contest, the loser will relinquish their armor, steed and weapons used to the tally master. Said losses will be consecrated to the crown, to be sold at market value for their worth to feed the poor and help the needy of our great kingdom."

A mix reaction of the crowd roused in applause and boos alike. Some of the contestants waiting behind the barricade and in the corridor flirted with the idea of quitting after hearing the prospect of losing all and gaining no wealth. Even Link shuddered with worry.

The herald raised his hands for all to quiet once more so he could finish his declaration. "For those who were hoping to profiteer off these tourneys, fear not, bounties will still be offered by the crown to the solo victors of each contest. There will be three preliminary contests. And three winners. Jousting, Archery, and the Melee. That being said, the greatest of them all will be offered an opportunity of a lifetime. A chance to compete in the trial of the flame! Win, lose or die….May the light of the goddess shine fortune upon you all!" he finished, eyes wide with excitement, raising his hands high in the air for all to cheer.

The crowd then satisfied by the compromise roared in approval. Especially at the prospect of the princess donating the consecrated wealth to the needy instead of them being sold at auction with ridiculous gauged prices to line the pockets of the winning contenders.

Zelda smiled where she sat and the Senechal spoke up. "My, oh my, sweet princess, who knew that thine had such a big heart. Ah, to be young and full of promise."

Arasmus took this moment as an opportunity of his own to garner more favor with those present as well. "She is quite the radiating flower, my Sundelion. May we all learn from her shining example."

Again, the herald boomed. "And now, may I present to you all, the challengers of the preliminaries!"

One by one around a hundred men were called out by name from a long scroll which dangled all the way to the feet of the Herald where he stood on the wooden platform. Men and knights alike were followed by their squire or retainers and marched onto the field of sand proudly to the applause of cheers, boos and shouts of fervor of the people. Many who took the field hoisted proud banners that snapped in the wind behind them, ranging from lavish tapestries of the names they represent carrying all the weight of their forebearers to modest sigils of simple colors.

Helmsworth was called next. A nervous bead trailed his brow and he slammed shut the fanged visor of his newly-acquired wolf helm before revealing himself on the arena. With his squire closely in tow, he whispered. "I thought you were never going to make it back in time, everything all right?"

"Yeah, no problem, and even better—I found us a nice steed as well. And before you say anything, this money wasn't stolen. So, you don't have to get your head all wound up."

"A steed you say. Where did you find one at this late hour worth his hooves?"

"Well, he isn't a he at all, she's like us. She has something to prove too."

"What? Something to prove? Jun!"

"It will be fine sir, the owner promised me that she was quick witted and sure footed for a mule."

"A MULE!? I can't joust with a mule! That's no horse!"

"What? Isn't a mule a lady horse? What's the problem?" Jun blinked, curiously pondering the matter with a scratch of his brow.

"That's not a mule, you're thinking of a mare! A mare is a lady horse. A mule his half jack ass cousin— and a boy to boot!"

"Oops," Jun said coyly.

But before Link could turn around to chide the boy further, they were interrupted by the second calling of their name, and they had yet to enter the arena. Another shoved them both from behind to get moving.

Jun whispered as they stepped into the light of the arena, all eyes were glued on them. "Don't worry sir, I'm sure we can still win. Lead the way!"

"Here goes nothing," Link gulped. As he marched to the sound of his name being called and the shouts of the crowds, he wondered if she would be watching for him. But there was just one caveat that he was embarrassed of, he had no sigil to call his own. So instead, Jun just marched behind him, basically empty-handed save be for a spear tipped pole, only to look not completely destitute of any belongings to call their own.

Lord Arasmus' voice rang out again, this time with a touch of mockery. "Is that your man there on the field? With that gaudy wolf helm? Why, he doesn't even have a proper banner. Look, there," he pointed, his finger drawing a line through the air to where Link's squire stood. "His squire is just holding up a mere flagpole without the streamer attached. It's empty." His words, dripping with derision, elicited laughter from some in attendance, though those aligned with the princess remained calm, their faces unamused by his japes.

"I guess he really is a lone wolf after all. Poor lad, with not even a family or lord's loyalty to call his own. Just like his helm. I know…." Arasmsus jerked in his chair with pure delight glittering across his dark, voided eyes, his men poised to laugh at whatever crude joke he had to belch. "I know, we can call him the lone wolf knight. You like the sound of that, My Sundelion?"

The air around them was thick with the aroma of the first courses and the subtle undercurrents of courtly politics. Amidst the laughter and the subtle play of light on the rich tapestries, Princess Zelda blinked, her eyes reflecting a spark of inspiration amidst the mirth and mockery. "Actually, you give me an idea," she retorted, her voice a blend of defiance and poise. With a swift, decisive motion, she signaled to a soldier nearby, her request clear and authoritative. She commanded him with a whisper in the ear to summon Link's squire to her once they had found their positions and to delay the start of the tourney.

Her action, bold and unexpected, shifted the atmosphere in the royal box. The laughter ebbed as the nobles turned their attention to her, curious about her next move. Zelda's gaze was resolute, her mind working swiftly as she crafted a response to Arasmus' taunt, a response that would not only defend Link's honor but also assert her own agency in the face of condescension.

As the soldier hastened to fulfill her command, the scents of the spread seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the electric tension of a moment charged with potential. Zelda sat, her posture regal and unyielding, her eyes following the soldier's departure. In this game of words and wits, she was not merely a spectator but a player in her own right, ready to turn the tables with her sharp intellect and unshakable resolve.

And after a long and windblown speech given by the herald to which anyone could nap from, Jun, escorted by a royal guardsmen found his way to Zelda's side.

As Jun approached Zelda's side, the atmosphere seemed to pause in anticipation. "Y—your majesty, you called for me?" the boy asked, kneeling respectfully. Around them, smiles emerged, varying from mocking smirks to genuine expressions of appreciation for the lad's humility.

"Why yes," Zelda responded, her voice gentle yet carrying the weight of her status. "I wanted to offer you and your knight-to-be a token of my support. I see that you're lacking a banner to call your own. I think we should remedy that at once." Her words were like a melody, weaving through the sounds of the gathering.

Rising gracefully from her seat, Zelda's gown of spring leaves rustled softly. She reached for the thin scarf of ocean blue that was wrapped around her, the fabric shimmering with ribbons of golden starlight, echoing the colors of her royal household. Unfurling the airy linen, she handed it to Jun. She also loosened a smaller sash from her waist, bearing the same regal colors.

"Stream this large one to your spear point and let this be your banner. So all may see," she instructed with a smile that radiated grace and kindness.

Jun nodded, his eyes wide with amazement at the quality of the fabric in his hands. Zelda continued, "And give this small sash to Helmsworth to wear on his arm, so that all may know I offer you both my dreams and hopes are with you both. That is my blessing to you." Her voice was filled with sincerity, her smile genuine.

Jun bowed and quickly departed, his footsteps echoing slightly on the steps as he headed back to the action below.

The mood shifted with Arasmus' interjection. "You really have a thing for this underdog, don't you? Very well, if that is who my Sundelion chooses, then here's to your champion too," he said, raising a toast lacking sincerity. Others followed suit, their drinks raised in a half-hearted gesture.

"I have a thing for good men," Zelda whispered to herself, her tone barely audible over the sound of the trumpets blaring the start of the tournament.

"What was that?" Arasmus leaned in, his curiosity piqued.

But before Zelda could respond, the seneschal chuckled. "Weren't you the man tasked with leading the first tests?" he asked Revali, who had been sitting quietly with his wings crossed the entire time. " I do believe those horns are summoning you to the field."

Revali, reminded of his duty, stood up with a roll of his eyes, careful to keep his annoyance from Zelda's notice.

Zelda chirped as he did. "I thank you again Revali, for undergoing this duty at such short notice. It's just that I hear you truly are the best and this tourney deserves nothing less than the best."

Revali bowed in return. "And that, your majesty, we can agree on. I bid you farewell until the deed is done and I will return to join you once finished."

"That's a good lad!" complimented the seneschal.

But before he could fully depart, Arasmus suddenly lifted from his chair as well. "My dear princess, may I escort our Rito friend here to the arena? It will be only for a moment. I hate to leave your side, but I have words to speak this warrior, if that is alright with you?"

Zelda blinked, hardly able to contain the happiness bubbling within her of the opportunity to be free of him sitting beside her. Even if it were just for a brief time, it was better than nothing. "Of course, take your time."

"Thank you, your grace." He said with a small tilt of the head before returning his glance to Revali who stood, almost impatiently waiting. "After you, my friend."

And with that, Revali led the way for them to head to the arena.

As they departed, Princess Mipha arrived, her presence a welcome addition to the royal booth. "About time you decide to join us," Impa greeted warmly.

"I hope I didn't miss much." Mipha squeaked back meekly. Her eyes genuinely excited for the games to begin. Not to mention the wonderful spread of food that the castle kitchens bore no expense in preparing.

"Not at all, it had just begun," Zelda reassured kindly.

"Yeah, that old wind bag can go on for days." The seneschal declared. "I should know, he's my older brother."

Impa shot him a look. "Look who's talking. I've sat through many of court meetings, and you have quite the pair of lungs yourself."

Zelda smiled at their quips of back and forth before returning her attention to Mipha who was a most honored guest among her. And in the regal ambiance of the royal box, where the air was laden with the scented preamble of the first course mingled with the subtle fragrance of perfumes from the highborn guests, Princess Zelda and Mipha, engaged in a conversation tinged with anticipation and curiosity. To them the array of bites laid before them were just a modest spread or snack, but to the common man, it would have been a feast to last a lifetime. Yet, their focus was on the conversation at hand, each delicately balancing the nuances of forming a new friendship. This would be after all, the first the two have been acquainted since they were both small children, to which they both hardly recollect.

The princess knew it would be some time until Revali would be ready, so she wanted to lighten up the mood with some casual talk. "And you, Mipha, have you a champion to rally behind this evening?" Zelda inquired, her voice a gentle melody of interest and politeness.

Mipha's response was radiant with girlish delight, her face glowing as she spoke of her champion. Her usually mouse-like voice suddenly rose louder than Zelda expected. "Oh yes, as a matter of fact, I do, he said he will be partaking in the preliminaries. But, funny enough, I haven't seen him show himself yet on the field. Perhaps, he changed his mind." Mipha said, speaking as much to herself as the princess. She then beamed back at Zelda. "But one thing is for certain, he is to be a guardsman and is to test in the main trials." She then wavered slightly in her seat, betraying a hint of nervousness as she quickly composed herself, realizing the many eyes upon her. Zelda, perceptive and empathetic, noticed Mipha's brief moment of self-consciousness.

"Oh, he's a Hylian? That's interesting."

"Yes," Mipha offered back kindly. "But it's silly, though," she added, her voice dropping to a softer tone.

"Oh no, it's not silly. Why do you say such things? I find it to be quite good, why else are we here for a grand spectacle such as this tourney and festival if we don't rally behind our champions?" Zelda encouraged, her words warm and reassuring.

Mipha hesitated, her words a mix of excitement and apprehension. "It's just, I, well. You're going to think I sound crazy. He's actually an old friend of mine. But that being said, It's sort of complicated between us."

"How so?" Zelda's eyes widened with intrigue, not even pausing to nibble the glorious spread of bite-sized fruit cake delights she fancied so much.

"It's just, everything since the last time I saw him has… I mean, he has…" Mipha paused to reflect what she would say next, lost in recollection of days long farewell before continuing. All the while her heart fluttered, unable to hide the glow she felt inside show across her smile. "…He has grown so…"

"Handsome?" Zelda teased lightly, a sparkle in her eyes, as girls often do with friends.

"—Strong. I was going to say strong," Mipha corrected, a faint blush burning her cheeks.

"Oh, I see," Zelda replied, understanding dawning in her expression.

Mipha continued, her voice wistful. "His name is Link, a commoner. He grew up in the Domain when he was just a boy. I, myself, was also just a child then… He is exactly how I remembered him and is still just as sweet since when we were young. But then again, so much time has passed between us that on one hand it's like nothing has changed…"

"And on the other?" Zelda prompted gently.

"That everything has…" Mipha's voice trailed off. She raised her hand to her chest, fingers gently squeezing a talisman that evoked memories of her youth with Link.

Around them, the other guests continued to nibble on the first course, oblivious to the depth of Mipha's reminiscence.

"You think you come to know everything you thought you knew about someone, only to find out and wonder if you ever really knew them at all." Mipha said softly, almost to herself. "Funny, time has a strange way of resetting the board." She added with a final sigh before realizing again that Zelda had been intently listening and waiting, not even eating.

Time. Zelda stewed on her words heartfully. It was known that when Zora reached maturity, half a decade of hylian years could pass by in a blink and only a single season of life would befall them. Blessed with long life by their patron deity.

"Anyway, I'm getting carried away. You probably never heard of him." Mipha took a dainty swig from her goblet and shook her head of the obvious. "No, of course not. How silly of me to prattle on. Anyways, tell me," Mipha said, turning to Zelda with kind eyes, "What about your champion? Have you set your gaze on anyone to cheer for from afar?"

Zelda's thoughts raced, remembering the name the Zora Princess mentioned, hesitating to answer. 'Oh my, the fabled Link,' she mused silently. She turned to whisper quietly to Impa, her trusted confidante, as another guest engaged Mipha in conversation to fill in the empty air. "Pray tell, Impa, wouldn't that be the very same Link tales have spoken about? The good and especially, the bad?"

Before Impa could respond, Adeline, Zelda's handmaiden, interjected with a knowing tone. "It is. And mostly bad too," she whispered to only where she could hear, her words carrying the weight of gossip she was privy to.

Zelda's thoughts were a whirlwind of concern and intrigue. 'Oh my, poor Mipha? Should I tell her? Is this Link such a swindling sweetheart with a candy-coated tongue that even the princess of Zora can be swayed by his hypnotic trance? Who could he be? Zelda lifted her hand to her chin to ponder further. Perhaps, I need to tell her what I know. Though if I do, it may go hard on her. But if I don't, what sort of friend would I turn out to be if I didn't? I must spare her the heartache if I can. Oh, but how? How do I tell? Goddess, give me strength to lay it upon her gently.

The luxurious setting of the royal box, continued to suffuse the air with the soft hum of noble conversations happening all around, Princess Zelda refocused her attention, masking her own excitement as she responded to Mipha's inquiry. "Actually, he's a commoner too. Or so I think. It can't be certain but there were some clues in the telling. For example, the manner of speech when he spoke. That dialect of Hylian is rather…How should I put it graciously?"

Impa, always attentive and keenly interested in the affairs of her charge, chimed in with a touch of playfulness in her tone. "Rough around the edges?"

"Yes," Zelda, with a light laugh that echoed her earlier joyous morning, continued, "And the way he carried himself. You wouldn't be hearing anyone at the castle speak the way he did in that sort of tongue. That's for sure!" Her laughter was a musical note that briefly soared above the ambient sounds of the gathering, a reflection of the happiness she found in the memory.

Mipha, gracefully leaning forward to partake in a delicately prepared skewer of charred fish, seasoned with rock salt and a just the right squeeze of lemon, joined the conversation. The aroma of the succulent dish mingled with the fragrances around them, adding another layer to the sensory tapestry of the moment. "And it didn't bother you?" she asked, her voice curious and gentle. "Him being so different to what you are accustomed to?"

Zelda, while absentmindedly twisting a small, intricately designed napkin ring between her fingers, responded with earnestness. "Not at all. On the contrary, I found it rather endearing, in fact, a breath of fresh air from the stuffiness I usually have to endure at the castle." Her words carried a sense of relief, as if the memory of the encounter allowed her to momentarily escape the confines of her royal duties and expectations. "He had genuine sweetness to him that I haven't seen in others. And it wasn't just for show. Nor did he merely just placate to my position for the want of personal gain as oft other men do. For he has nothing to gain. Because, after everything is said and done, he will remain a commoner, and I, the princess." Zelda finished, almost saddened by that fact, and secretly wished she could change the law.

"I see," Mipha said, grasping the sigh in Zelda's demeanor.

Adeline, lacking the usual cordiality due to such a headstrong and feisty personality, let the cat out of the bag slip with the subtleness of a brick breaking a window. "And, unlike our princess's champion who remains true, yours has had a web of tales spun about him, and from what we are to believe, are verified to be the case."

"Adeline!" Zelda reprimanded, her voice sharp, a stark contrast to the gentle clinking of silverware and the soft rustle of fabrics around them.

"What? It's true. We all heard them. Multiple sources," Adeline insisted, her words hanging in the air, heavy with implications.

Mipha, her face a canvas of confusion and concern, paused, her hand hesitating midway to her mouth with a piece of delicately spiced dazzlefruit. A tasty treat powdered in a sugar and spicy peppery dusting. "Heard what?" she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

Zelda fumbled for words, her fingers nervously entwining a strand of her hair as she sought to lay down the information gracefully. "It's that, um..."

"He's a player! That's what. A showboating womanizer with a lady from every tavern to sit on his knee!" Adeline blurted out, her voice a discordant note amidst the otherwise harmonious setting. "Surely, half the kingdom knows by now."

Mipha's reaction was one of shock, her hand dropping the fruit back onto her plate as her eyes widened in disbelief. "Oh, my," she murmured, the weight of the revelation sinking in.

Zelda, turning to whisper in her handmaiden's ear, questioned the necessity of Adeline's bluntness. "Was that really necessary? We are not even sure."

Impa, ever the source of wisdom, leaned in to confirm with a whisper, "We are, your grace. Even your cousin's cousin's nephew's son has personally attested to that fact. He too is also in the trials. Regoso, Sir Regoso to be if the winds of fate blow in his favor, my princess."

Zelda, struggling to contain her outrage while maintaining a semblance of composure, replied, "Him!? So, we are to believe him of all yarn spinners?"

"Well, there were others," Adeline added, her voice a murmur amidst the soft sounds of the royal box.

"Yeah, his circle! His errand boys. His dregs. Of course, they would vouch for him," Zelda pondered aloud, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and doubt. But she knew better, where there was smoke there was usually fire, as the old saying went. Even if it were just a smoldering, they couldn't all be lies or exaggerations. Could they? Perhaps, he was somewhat of a ladies' man as the tales spoke of. Poor Mipha, she thought.

Zelda then turned to Mipha, her expression softening as she reached out to comfort her. Mipha, lost in her own thoughts, seemed to stew over the revelations, her emotions a tempest beneath her calm exterior.

Even with the warm hand of Zelda gracing her, the feelings swirling in Mipa's belly began to linger and fog her thoughts. Suddenly, it felt as if she'd been shocked by an electric eel by the revelation. The savory delicacies which tasted so sweet earlier were as unappetizing as a rockroast now. Could it be that after all these long years, my friend could have succumbed to arrogance? They do say that confidence can breed such temperaments. Surely, not Link though. That isn't his way….I know him….There must be some sort of mistake. Or so, I knew him.

And almost as if the heavens themselves mirrored the feelings stirring within her, a rumble of thunder cracked the grey clouds above and once more a drizzle began to fall on the field.

The air in the royal box was thick with the unspoken, the clinking of glasses and the rustle of garments merely a backdrop to the intricate dance of words and emotions unfolding between Zelda and Mipha. In this realm of nobility and grace, the seeds of a budding friendship were being sown, intertwined with the complexities of young hearts and the whispered legends of a commoner named Link. And little did they know, both their champions were one and the same.

In a secluded corner of the tournament grounds, far from the bustle and excitement of the event, a tense conversation unfolded between Lord Arasmus and the Revali, as they made their way. Arasmus's top lieutenant followed by, his eyes keenly observing the exchange, ready to lend his support when needed.

"You seem like a man with an eye for a good deal when he sees one. Who knows what it takes to win. I know winners when I see them, and you, my friend, are a winner," Arasmus began, his voice smooth, a blend of flattery and cunning.

"Except, that I'm not a man, and I'm not your friend, I'm a Rito," Revali retorted sharply, his feathers bristling with indignation. "What is it? What do you want? Surely, it isn't to wish me luck."

"You're right, it's not."

"Then what? Out with it. I'll have you know I've been summoned here on the express orders of the Princess herself, and I'm busy if you haven't noticed, so if you won't speak plainly, I'll just be—"

"-Easy, my friend. Take it easy, you'll ruffle yourself if you persist," Arasmus interjected, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Look, I hear Hebra has been having trouble with the ice these past few years, making the highways impassable to those not adept at flight, such as yourself. But even for someone with skills of your caliber, we have heard that even the best fliers have been grounded as well due to these new undying storms that have roosted atop your peaks."

Arasmus leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "An omen, some say, of the perilous times that are to face us all soon enough. If we don't band together. There have been frightening reports of wolfos coming down from the Howling Hills, attacking merchant caravans and travelers, now that the king's peace dares not patrol those lonely roads. Something that hasn't happened in over an age. Leaving those who brave those barren trails to fend for themselves. Is that true?"

"We Draenareans are a strong and hearty people. We are no strangers to hardships, and some say even the permanent ice that crowns atop the summit of Winterbane Quarry runs through our veins. Our ancestors were forced to endure it for generations. So, rest assured, my friend, we have dealt with our fair share of treacherous mountain peaks and may be of some help to you and your people. Perhaps, if a new road were to be constructed, not on the burgeoning purse of your people, but of mine. If we can come to an arrangement of sorts?"

Arasmus's lieutenant, sensing the moment was ripe, interjected subtly, "He's to go down in the first round of bouts."

"Who?" Revali questioned.

"The princess's champion." The dragoon replied.

"Weren't you listening to her majesty at all? I'm in charge of the trials of archery. If it's the tests of battle you are looking to game, then the arena master is your man, it's not to me," Revali responded, his tone firm and unyielding.

"Oh no, I was listening. Intently, in fact." Arasmsus stepped in. "However, if that upstart can fall from grace in the archery contests, then he will lose heart for the rest of the tournament and that saves me the trouble of dealing with him later. Not to mention, those who absolutely fail the archery will be disqualified from the rest of the games," Arasmus pressed, his gaze fixed on Revali. "The herald mentioned that only half are to be expected to get past the first test and even more will cut from the filed in the jousts and melee. He is to be one of them."

Revali, his feathers ruffling in disdain, shot back, "Look, if you want to make this boy who I care nothing for win or lose, that's your problem, leave me out of it. I want no part of cheating. What sort of Rito do you take me for? Pft, you Hylians, you're all the same. Why should I care if any Hylian wins or loses? You're all the same to me. Arrogant and foolhardy. Even now, you dare to presume to know me and what I want." Revali return the sack of gems by shoving them to the chest of Arasmus's man. "And take your shiny pebbles with you, I have no use for them. Good day."

Unsuccessful they both had to watch the proud Rito storm off, feathers brisking against the rain as it fell.

As two men retreated from their failed negotiation, the air around them was filled with the distant cheers of the crowd, and the flutter of banners in the wind. The tournament's beginning spectacles begun, oblivious to the undercurrents of deceit and manipulation swirling just beneath its festive veneer.

Arasmus, his face reddening with anger, turned to his lieutenant as they slowly made their way back. "Why that lousy, do-good-for-nothing bent-beaked blue parrot! How dare he refuse me? I offered him the world—"

"I do believe he is falconish, my lord," the lieutenant corrected gently.

"Whatever, it's not to me. He's a fool, that's what he is. If he spoke to me that way anywhere but this place, I'd have his feathers plucked out. No one talks back to me that way and lives to mock about it," Arasmus fumed, his frustration boiling over.

"My lord?" the lieutenant inquired, a hint of concern in his voice. Implying with his eyes if they should 'take care' of this Rito problem of theirs.

"No, no, it's fine. There will be none of that. We'll just have to enlighten the princess to the truth of her mystery hero another way," Arasmus concluded, his mind already racing with new schemes.

It was then after a brief moment of pondering between the both of them, his loyal dragoon spoke up. "Perhaps I should enlist in this farce of a tournament and regain your honor?"

"You? Fight in the battles?" Arasmus questioned him queerly from head to toe. "What would you want with wanting to be a royal? Are you so ambitious that being in my service is such a burden that you would take this opportunity to leave my side?"

The man cut him off, shaking his head. "No my lord, you misunderstand me."

"Then?"

"Let me face against this pretender. Let me show her highness the way and the truth. That there is only one power in the kingdom that will matter when the time comes for us to fight against the dreaded darkness and that is House Draene."

"What do you mean?" Arasmus' brows raised."

"I'll face him…. and…"

"And?"

The dragoon unsheathed his blade and made a tiny incision on his palm. "I can guarantee to make sure there will be a mortal win in your favor. Let him play with bronze while I play with castle forged steel colored by a glimmer of gold. That ought to do the trick fast enough to not raise any suspicions. Let me best this boy hero."

Arasmus spun around to contemplate the offer. "Hmmm…But only as a last option. To kill I mean. Continue your plan with the weapons but see to it you only injure the lad. I don't want him mortally wounded as of yet, I have special plans for him, myself."

The dragoon bowed. "Very well, my lord. It will be as you command."

"Oh…I see…yes, he'll be whimpering to call it quits in no time. Yes…. Yes….this is the way…" Arasmus rubbed his chin, getting more excited by the plan as he stewed over it. "You really are nasty Rockwell, you know that?"

"I know sometimes I even amaze myself, my lord."

"But how are you to enter the lists? Isn't it too late?" The lord asked confused.

"Leave that to me, my liege."

"Very well, I task you with this and good luck. If you succeed, I shall reward you with gifts finer than Hylia's heaven itself."

And with that, his cruel servant escaped back to the arena's staging area and he, returned to find his place beside the princess, with the hopes of her being none the wiser.

AUTHORS NOTE- Hello friends, I do hope you enjoyed this one. It was a doozy to complete because I had to make so many revisions. Please, leave a comment or a star if you did read and enjoy. Also, some have wondered when we shall return to the current timeline of the story, and I leave that decision to you, my readers. If the consensus is that I should hop back and forth between past and current narratives, I can do so. I only figured keeping this the way it is to keep it simple and easier to follow. Let me know your thoughts.

Chapter Text

Authors Note: Hello friends, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Just a few more until we return to the current part of the story. Please, let me know your thoughts. Comments help the story more than you can imagine. Thanks and enjoy.

Why we failed one-hundred years ago

part 11-

A Ballad of Bowstrings

Nearly one hundred men were heralded forth from the shadow of the corridor to march onto the arena of sand. From knights of high birth to former cutpurses, spectators roared in cheers and boos alike when each took to the field, an aspirant for glory, wealth, and redemption. One by one they lined along the wooden walls, presenting themselves to the audience that eagerly awaited their triumphs and falls.

Link, clad in a full set of armor and adorned with his prized wolf-helm, stood like a statue amidst the throng, humbled by the sea of faces watching them. A nervous gurgle bubbled in his belly, and his breath, heavy with anticipation, fogged the razor-sharp teeth of his visor. Just as the nerves threatened to overwhelm him, A friendly voice offered encouragement from behind. Jun had returned.

Snapping to attention, Link asked, "I was beginning to worry you found some better sense than I have and changed your mind and left for good. What did the guards want with you anyway?"

"Not what they wanted, but what she wants," Jun replied cryptically.

"Huh?" Link whispered, still facing forward to listen to the grand herald's loud, croaking voice echo over the crowd. Jun eagerly stood beside him, swiftly tying a blue and golden ribbon made from a small sash, around the crease of his elbow on his right arm. "What the?"

"She gave me it, it's for us! See!" Jun exclaimed, gesturing also to the banner he had fashioned from a similar, soft satin garment, now streaming proudly from the point of the spear pole. "The princess. These are her house colors, and she wants us to represent her for all to see, isn't that great? Now we have a banner as good as any! Better in fact! It's her own!"

Link gulped, barely squeaking out, "Y—yeah." That's exactly why I'm beginning to worry. He was torn between pride in the high honor of representing the princess and fear of the responsibility it entailed. Any misstep could tarnish her prestigious name in embarrassment or worse, shame. He cannot fail, he must not fail.

Jun, waving the flag for all to see, drew cheers from the audience. Though Link's vision was obscured by his visor, Jun relayed that the eager gazes of the royal enclosure were fixed on them. "Don't worry, Sir, we will win! And don't you fret about the mule, I have a plan!"

Link listened as the boy continued. "Perchance, I can do a quick trade with someone else while you're doing the archery contest. It should be a while between the jousts and melee, and I won't be much of help until then."

Link muttered back, juggling between hearing his squire and the herald at the same time. "Well, let's hope so. Or we're both going to live to regret wearing these colors." 

"Leave it to me!" Jun insisted confidently.

The Herald then finally announced with a grandiose flourish, "And now, I say to you all, let the battles begin and let the best man win! Everyone—I give you, chosen by her Majesty herself to lead the first contest, Arch-master Revali and pride of the Rito skies!"

Revali awoke where he stood leaning against the wooden walls off to the side. Slightly flustered yet determined, flapped lightly atop the stage. From the commons swarming the picket fences to the nobility comfortable in their booths. Stunned silence immediate rang out after he took the stand and Revali's hawkish eyes darted across the stadium, to the crowd and finally to evaluate the challengers. It was then by a happy chance he glanced up to also find the eager and ginger gaze of the princess high up in the royal enclosure locked on him, waiting on bated breath what he would do or say next. 

He began slowly at first. "It is with great honor that she has given me, our new heir apparent to the goddess, Princess Zelda, that I welcome you all and most of all, aspiring contestants to your first challenges!"

He then bent his beak to address the contenders directly, "Here you've gathered with dreams of valor, aiming to impress the princess. But it would take far more than just dreams to win the day. Out of a hundred maybe half will go the distance and from that lot perhaps only a handful may see the end. But only three will ascend to glory and be given the opportunity to partake in a chance of a lifetime--The Trial of the Flame alongside the Royal Cadets!"

Link and Jun listened intently and thoughtfully while others who thought themselves better smirked to themselves and to one another brazenly. 'Who does this Rito think he is?' they said in hushed murmurs. 

Revali paraded on the platform in well placed steps, continuing his speech like a general rallying his troops for battle. "It will take grit and no small degree of talent that only few ever come to realize. There will be no hiding from my keen eyes. I will sift out the wheat from the chaff. I will find the true warriors among men. I give you the Contest of the Dancing Arrow!"

The crowd erupted in applause as Revali raised his wings high to the sky, commanding their attention. "But let's not delude ourselves — these tests are a dance of wit and skill, one I doubt many of you can keenly perform. You must learn to become one with your target," he chuckled haughtily, "Though most of you will simply become part of the scenery." He turned his hawkeyed gaze on the contenders, almost leering at them.

"You must attempt to bend the elements to your will — a feat I perform effortlessly. And as for the storm's fury, let's see if any of you can muster a semblance of the poise it takes to stand amidst the tempest as I do! Then and only then, may you have a chance at seizing your dreams!" The audience's applause rose again in excitement, and many a noble were now stomping their feet against the decks as they sat in their booths awaiting the climax of his speech. Others drummed their mugs to match and like a rising storm the stadium swelled into a thunder of cheers. Revali then faced them and waved his feathers one last time for them to listen, his eyes eager to prove them that perhaps he was the only one capable of such daring feats.

At his command he pointed to the center of the arena. Miraculously, the massive arena quaked and opened at the center of the field to the shock of everyone. The rumbling sound of large, age-old gears, cogs, pulleys, and reels creaked and turned beneath their feet. To everyone's shock, a secret trapdoor revealed a hidden chamber below the ground. White sands began to spill into the mysterious black void below until, from out of nowhere, a long row of wand-shaped targets rose to the surface to take its place. The audience gasped in wonder at the sight of the long line of what appeared to be fifty thin posts. Zelda also clapped her hand over her mouth in excitement of the jubilant show, unable to believe it herself. Even the aspiring warriors were at a loss for words. Some even taking frightened steps back out of sheer caution to the walls that corralled them in, lest they fall into the foreboding chasm.

Revali continued, as if he knew all along of the contraption that revealed itself. "Be swift, be precise, but above all, be aware: it is the archer's will and wits, not the arrow's flight, that truly shapes our destiny. And should you find your wits quivering more than your bowstring, well... I suggest you enjoy the view of my back as I demonstrate how it's truly done."

With a flourish, he tossed his bow into the air and leapt catching it in his talons with a gust of wind, unleashing three arrows in swift motion in opposing directions toward thin targets on the raised platform. One in the middle, and two at the furthest edge. Each shaft hit its mark with pin-point precision, shrieking through the humid, frosty air in a blaze of speed and glory. Zelda could have blinked, and she would have missed the whole thing.

The contenders and the crowd, from the commons to the nobility, watched in awe. And in a split-second, three thin, barely perceivable posts were struck and erupted. Their flints sparked, lighting fuses which launched glitter rockets skyward to dazzle the late afternoon sky with starbursts of gold, blue, and streams of red flames that rivaled the sunset. Their booms of light bathed the princess and her friends in a soothing warm glow of glittering wonder that reflected in their delighted eyes. A blanket against the incoming night chill. The trials had begun, led by Revali, whose prowess and confidence were now on full display, setting the tone for the challenges that lay ahead.

In the royal booth, a symphony of chatter and laughter filled the air, mingling with the rich scents of the delicacies laid out before them. As the glitter rockets enthralled the honorary guests, heralding the games' beginning, their conversations continued to flow like a dance of words.

Prince Arcturus, always one to enjoy the simpler pleasures in life, quipped with a hearty laugh, "Now, that isn't something you see every day!" He chased his mirth with a gulp of brew, preferring the drink of commons over the finer wines, and wiped foam from his chin. "I swear, those glitter rockets are getting better and better every time I see them. Even to go so far as to contend against the might of thunderstorms brought by heaven itself. I wonder how they do it?"

Zelda, her eyes still sparkling from the allure of the glittering sky, shared in the wonder. "I know, from what I hear, the cannoneers are getting quite adept at their craft, now that Purah and the others have found more ancient records on the subject and have been able to translate the secret arts of fire-craft from their pyromancer ancestors. The sheer brilliance of what the ancients achieved and how much we forgot was our greatest folly as a people. But, that said, even this spectacle, I did not expect to be so grand. They are marvelous!"

Purah, ever proud of her contributions, cracked her knuckles over the table. "Yup! We are finding all kinds of treasures more and more every day. You should join us sometime," she said, referring to the ancient findings they've recently discovered in the Dying Mountains.

Zelda shot her a look of wishfulness, her eyes darting to her father and his entourage seated behind her, merrily enjoying themselves, a subtle cue to Purah, that it wasn't up to her. "Hopefully, after this tournament, I intend to. After all, I will practically have an entire company assigned for my protection, so there shouldn't be a problem if all goes well," she said wistfully.

Purah nodded. "And I have just the particular surprise in store for you, but you're going to have to wait until your ascension to see it first. Three surprises, you can say."

Zelda, intrigued yet patient, smiled, remembering the three large contraptions that were cleverly covered in tarps that rolled out onto the arena earlier. What could they be? The thought of not knowing gnawed at her but she relented to wait instead prod for more clues. 

Her uncle, sensing an opportunity, teased her. "Speaking of ascension, aren't you going to be needed soon to take to the balcony? I hear you have quite the speech penned up to rally the people, my dear." He winked, knowing well her aversion to public speaking. Zelda dreaded the idea and had never been in a predicament where she was forced to give riveting speeches to the people. This would be her first test as a true ruler of the realm and not the paper princess so many have whispered behind her back.

Urbosa, reassured her warmly from behind before her doubts could dampen her mood. "Don't you worry, you'll do just fine," she said, her voice a comforting blanket of warmth.

Arasmus, taking a more cavalier approach, commented before munching on a small, honey-caramel dipped apple on a stick. "She need not dread now. Because first, that blue parrot needs to finish up his business and then the show can really begin," he said. 

Famished, he then washed down a few nibbles of perfectly roasted pigeon wings with a gulp of Cremia Red and before raising his goblet for others to join in, he continued his thoughts aloud. "Here's to a quick contest so we can get on to the main event. It will soon be nightfall. I predict we only have but an hour until then." Whether it was Crimson Courage or its sister pairing, Scarlett Seduction, was anyone's guess. Judging by his boldness, likely the former. "And besides," he turned to face Zelda and placed his hand gently over hers on the table. "I'm sure our Princess will exceed all expectations."

Zelda, maintaining her composure, gently chided him. "Do you think we should be demeaning our esteemed guest by denoting to him as a parrot?" She said, subtly pulling back her hand.

"I meant no offense. I'm only eager to get to your shining moment is all, my Sundelion," Arasmus replied, his charm masking his impatience.

Ignoring his endearment, Zelda retorted, "After all, I don't see you eager to volunteer your talents for this grand occasion."

Her uncle, joining the banter, added, "Yeah, from what I hear, My Lord, you're one of the best swords in all the land. I think it would be a swell idea and a great honor for you to show us all your prowess and skill. So that we may learn how true champions are forged." Arcturus said, before chortling again, glancing around to those who were now eagerly listening. He had everyone's undivided attention. "In fact, with the way they tell it back in the Stonelands, you may be the hero we've been searching for all this time. Who knew? Perhaps, there's still time for you to enlist your talents? After all, there will be three days of feasts and tournaments."

"An exaggeration, I'm sure." Arasmus said flatly, swigging a modest gulp from his cup yet again. "But I am humbled by your high opinion of me, My Prince." He then let out a winded sigh, gazing down below at the would-be participants. "Though, I must confess, I have trained under the best, so it isn't all without merit. The tall tales, I mean." The young lord said, his dark eyes gleaming back the orange glow of the brazier light. Like a fire unable to melt the impenetrable frost of icy blue stones.

One of his lieutenants added beside him. "It's true. He is the best. I've seen him single-handedly slay three Yiga outlanders, a scout, and one of their vicious butchers all at once." That was the name for their most ferocious of killers, 'butchers'. Their chiefest of assassins. Arasmus folded his arms proudly yet trying to convey as much humility as possible. Zelda on the other hand wasn't entirely convinced. Though she must admit, she had known he was a warrior. 

The young Lord spoke again. "He is just being proud of his commander and esteems me far too much. It was only a single butcher and a scout. That's all."

"Well, you must admit that is still quite the accomplishment. Not too many stripes for valor are earned these days." Zelda's uncle leaned curiously to the nodding of other nobles nearby. "I hear their butchers are the most ruthless of seasoned warriors among us. So, that must surely account for something, especially after this long peace we've had since the Rivercross Rebellion. Hardly any man sees combat these days, let alone have skirmishes with our fiercest enemy in the borderlands. Perhaps, we may have a living legend in the making here with us, after all. What do you think, Sweet Niece? Is he our champion that we've been searching for?" Zelda's Uncle complimented again, seasoned with a dash of sarcasm.

Arasmus, not one to be outdone, boasted before she could set her goblet down to reply, "If that's true what you say, then why are we even having this tournament? You might as well crown me the victor here and now. That being said, I accept your compliments graciously."

Before Zelda could respond, the seneschal, always ready with a dull-minded quip, joined in banter with that honey-laced tone of his, smooth as silk to the ears, in stark contrast to his brother, the grand herald, whose voice croaked like a toad. "Perhaps, that's not a bad idea, if you truly are the best Hyrule has to offer, why not crown you the victor and be done with it so we can move onto the celebrations?" he said, stiffening where he sat. "My backside is already starting to cramp from sitting here." He then wiggled on his flattened cushion, much to Zelda's mild annoyance and astonishment. 

How could it be possible for a man to be so intolerant of soft, plush feather pillows for their arse to sit on? I would never be able to understand, Zelda mused to herself. I swear, if one didn't know better, they'd mistaken him for the princess with the way he whined from such a lavish lifestyle. If only he knew and had a taste of what the common people had to endure, he would probably die just by the thought of it. It was true though. Those poor folks weren't even shielded by the drizzling skyfall that had dampened the tournament thus far and yet this man whines about the trouble of having to flip his padded pillow for a better seat. Yet, even with what the commons had to endure, they still eagerly and merrily shouted their excitements for the games. Rain or shine, blizzard or hurricane, they would gladly stand and watch this once in a lifetime show.

Prince Arcturus chuckled at Arasmus. "Your father would like that. An end to the games and a coronation ceremony? But there's just one little snag, My Lord."

"And what's that?" inquired Arasmus, curiosity piqued.

"The legendary Sword of Evil's Bane has not been found and only he who is master of the Sword that Seals the Darkness, may claim the rights of Hero." He then smiled and returned to talking to the rest of the guests. "So, you see, our Lord Friend here has some searching to do if he wants to be granted that honor."

Arasmus snorted dismissively. "It's not to me. I leave those foolish myths for the dreamers to find. I'm not even convinced there even is a sword. Just a bunch of stories made up by nursemaids who are trying to get rambunctious children to bed at night. A tale for simple-minded folks," he said, waving his hand dismissively over the crowd below them in the stands, as if saying they were the ones he was referring to.

Zelda, seizing the moment, retorted defiantly, "I for one believe in the old legends. As do our people." The princess leaned to face him. "Are you calling me simple minded?"

"No, I—uh," Arasmus quickly shifted his tone. Suddenly, he spoke as sweetly as a singer's song. "I—I, believe in you, My Princess. No legends necessary. Who needs the strength of men from fairytales when we have the heir of the goddess among us blessing us with her divinity?"

His comeback was good. Perhaps too good and for once, Zelda, was caught off guard by his display of authenticity, leaving her momentarily at a loss for words. So, she remained silent. The others around them smiled, sipped their drinks at their little lovers quarrel or so they assumed it must have been, and continued to engage in small chatter and light laughter. And when Zelda finally thought of the perfect response, Revali's voice boomed again, drawing everyone's attention back to the contest.

As they watched and listened, Zelda couldn't help but marvel at the arena's acoustics the builders woven into the very walls of the stadium, which carried Revali's voice like a tempest wind. She could hardly believe how the talented carpenters guild, Sonstar, could craft such magnificent art into their woodwork. The arena was made so that she could've closed her eyes, and the voice of Revali, though at ground level, could be heard standing right beside her, his voice so crystal clear that until she opened them, she would've never have guessed. And as a bonus, it seems all their fortunes had taken a turn for the best and the downpour had let up when the glitter rockets shattered the clouds in the sky. 

Revali heralded his commanding voice to everyone and the contestants. "For your first challenge, you must prove your worthiness to be here today. A simple test with a bowstring." The men nodded in eager approval and anticipation. The proud Rito then flapped into the air before gracefully landing onto the field. There he waved his feathers like a wand again at the row of fifty tiny posts ahead of them. Each target stood in a line perched atop a device that had pulleys and chains beneath.

"Each man must line up to their posts and achieve as many bullseyes as possible in the allotted time, from this distance!" Revali pointed to the long line of targets, pillars gapped several feet apart of one another on a wooden platform that stood in the middle of the arena, stretching from one end of the stadium to the other. 

"Are you mad? That's nearly fifty yards!" Scoffed a displeased contender among the throng of hopeful challengers.

"Seventy-five to be precise!" Revali said back pleased. His eyes gleamed mischievously as he turned to face the heckler. "If you're so worried then I suggest you drop out now if you don't have the stomach for it. For this is just a simple taste of the challenges that are to come." Revali chuckled to himself, almost sadistically happy before continuing his speech. "Oh, and did I mention the targets would be moving?" 

The casual noises of the crowd were replaced by unified gasps of awe and intrigue. Mutters of 'that's impossible' could be heard although Link couldn't tell from who. The contenders could hardly believe what they were up against. Such a daring endeavor. The brave ones spat defiantly where they stood, eager for the challenges where others who were greener gulped and stumbled in fright at the prospect.

Revali declared again. "Center of the wand is a bullseye. And you must only target your stick. Yours will be directly in front of you when you take to the line and draw. As the posts sway side to side, you must take your aim and land a bullseye. Only a bullseye will count as a hit. So, I suggest you aim true." Revali demonstrated, taking himself to one of the marked lines, acting out the ordeal yet, not releasing a shaft. 

"You will only be given ten arrows to test your skills. Only a bullseye will count as part of the tally. Once struck, your wand will spin under the contraption and display again with a fresh target for another arrow to pierce. Those who manage to hit the most targets in the allotted time will be safe from elimination. Those in the top half of twenty-five of each round will advance to the next challenge. And if by some goddess miracle one of you scores all four targets, a bell will chime to notify your squire of your victory. He will then raise your banner here on the platform and hoist it on the pole. Where it will wave proudly for all to see. Those who don't score or fail to meet the threshold in time will be disqualified from the rest of the games. Only the best may proceed."

The proud Rito grinned again. "Oh, and by the way...You'll only have one minute!"

Revali then scoured the bunch of hopefuls who were huddled together in ranks. They were all shapes and sizes, rich, poor and in between. Some of the mean and ugly men glowered back at Revali and some others who were sleek, fancy-dressed in their shiny armor were haughty and shrugged the challenge nonchalantly. There were even those who were shaking in their boots on the verge to piss themselves. And then lastly, there was Link, young and daring.

Revali huffed and was unfazed by the taunted stares of those who thought themselves strong and brawny and continued to peer into all the contenders as if evaluating what they may or may not achieve. As his eyes glided over the watchful stares of the contestants, his stern gaze finally rested on Link. But as quick as he did so, he turned away to face those onlooking in the stands.

"When I give the signal, give these people a show of ferocity the likes they never seen!" he said, cuing a stagehand to bring him a device. A short man rushed up the planks of steps and while bear-hugging with both hands, gave a rather large device covered by a velvet cloth to the Arch-Master. Revali flung the soft fabric and unveiled the mysterious item which turned out to be a massive, brass hourglass, so those that were watching above could also see. But unlike a normal hourglass, the grains of sand of this would empty in just one minute. "Now, the first set of fifty men, take to your lines and when I wave, and you hear the sound of the bell, you may begin your fury!"

Applause broke out again as the first round of men marched over to their positions. Fortunately, for Link, he had to wait for the second round where his group of fifty would try for glory. And he wasn't about to complain either. This way, he could get an idea for how the game was played. It was customary for the nobility who joined the contest to compete and showcase their talents first. Those of lower birth or who weren't knighted by some liege or that would have to wait for their chance to prove their worth. 

Back in the royal booth, excitement shone across everyone's face. Noticing the princess's worried demeanor, Arasmus leaned generously to the ear of Zelda, voice laced with a hint of condescension, "I do say, I wonder what showing your champion will give us when it's his turn? The bar doesn't seem too high for even a common boy like him, I bet he'd be lucky to make even two pings."

Zelda, feeling a mix of irritation and nervousness, instinctively wiped sweat from her hands onto the tablecloth. Before she could craft a response, her uncle came to her defense, "I'll take that bet."

Arasmus, taken aback, questioned, "Uh, excuse me?"

"The bet," her uncle clarified. "Of her champion landing only two pings."

Arasmus, smirking contentedly, said, "Actually, I said he'd be lucky to manage just two targets. But, he does have the hope of the princess in his corner, so the very least he'll probably walk away with one. Besides, this challenge doesn't seem too difficult. And they say miracles happen every day."

"Well, I think he will do better than that," her uncle retorted. "So, I'll take you on your proposition. No miracles needed."

Arasmus, surprised, blinked. "Um, you will?"

"Why not? My niece has a knack for scouting undiscovered talent. I think the lad will score all four targets. What say you?"

"Four targets, my prince?" Arasmus laughed, almost choking on his food. "I think he'll be lucky to hit two. But for my Sundelion's sake, I hope he does well. That being as it may, you are my Prince, so I'll accept your bet, but only if she's comfortable with it."

Zelda, masking her true feelings, forced a smile and fluttered her eyelashes sweetly. "Oh, it's quite alright by me. It should make things interesting," she replied, her friends nodding in agreement.

Arasmus set down his goblet. "Then how does five gold gems sound, My Prince?"

Prince Arcturus, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, challenged Arasmus, "Only five gold gems? Surely, you must have more conviction in your decision than that? Why stop there? Let's make things a bit more interesting, shall we?" He took a hearty gulp from his mug, wiping the froth from his chin.

Arasmus, attempting to maintain a light-hearted tone, replied, "Well, I was merely trying to make things in good fun—"

"Nonsense, we're all friends here," interjected Prince Arcturus. "We can do a proper bet. How about we wager something you really want, hmm?"

Arasmus, intrigued, leaned in. "And what is that, My Prince?"

"A bit of territory within the crowned lands, or what your people affectionately have named the contested lands," Prince Arcturus stated, capturing the attention of those around him.

Arasmus, unable to fully cloak his interest, subtly perked his ears and narrowed his eyes, though he maintained his veneer of lordly charm.

Prince Arcturus, sensing the shift in Arasmus' demeanor, continued. "The Ruby Ford, which has been under the banner of my own house since the River-Cross rebellion some twenty odd years ago. Whose land once belonged to were that of your former banner-men and vassals—"

"But, they broke faith with House Draene and the crown, aiding our enemies during the war," Arasmus interjected, his tone laced with a hint of bitterness.

"Exactly," Prince Arcturus agreed, nodding gravely. "And due to this, your grandfather failed to quell the uprising, allowing treason to flourish under his watch."

Arasmus, with a somber nod, acknowledged, "Yes, and we've paid dearly for it ever since. Many times, over."

Prince Arcturus leaned in; his voice solemn yet earnest. "You have, indeed and I don't doubt the loyalty of House Draene to the crown. The resilience your father showed in restoring order was quite commendable. It was a goddess blessing in of itself with the way he performed so swiftly. With the odds stacked against him that is. However, for the unchecked treachery of your grandsire, a debt was owed. As a result, the crown seized the lands of your vanquished vassal. Am I correct?"

Arasmus, reluctantly admitting the truth, replied, "Well, yes—"

Prince Arcturus, seizing the moment, interjected, "Then, let me propose a new bargain for us this evening, as we place our wager on this game. A deal you'll find quite appealing, one I think you won't want to refuse."

Arasmus leaned forward, intrigued. "I'm listening, My Prince."

"I'll see your five gold gems and add an additional five from my own purse."

"My Prince, are you sure—"

"—I'm prepared to do so and not only that. If you win this game of ours, I will forfeit the Ruby Ford back to its former liege, your father and in turn, yourself. That if you win the bet, henceforth all attendant lands at the Ruby Ford along with its incomes and holdings, your House will inherit once more. From this day to the end of days. That should make this contest more sporting, wouldn't you agree? Surely, this is something you'd want."

Arasmus chortled. "I think you may have mistaken me for my father, My Prince."

"Have I? And here I thought you were the ambitious one."

Arasmus smiled. "Ambition is a funny word you see." The lord said, stewing for a moment, stirring the goblet in his hand in a swirling motion. His gaze reflected in the slosh of the Cremia Red. 

He continued. "For some it means wealth, and for others it may be prestige, lands, titles and honor, but for me, I have better conquests that differ from other men. Richer tastes that I would rather satisfy." He said finishing his phrase with a quick glance at the princess, her flowing honey hair a reflective twinkle in his eye. He then turned to face Arcturus and cleared his throat. "That being said, I'm merely content with the former wager proposed. Besides, what do I offer back, should I lose our bet? Is there any particular land you wish to acquire in return, and if so, I should need the permission of my father to make such a declaration, I am not the liege lord of the Stonelands, yet."

Arcturus rubbed his chin thoughtfully and with a smirk quipped back. "There is no need. Should you lose, then you must surrender ten gold gems in return. That should be sufficient. No lands on your end."

"Are you sure, that is quite the generous offer. You risk much in this endeavor whereas I offer back very little by comparison."

"What fun in life is there if not without its risks. So, you see, you really have nothing to lose. But everything to gain. What is ten gold rupees compared to all the territory and wealth of the Ruby Ford?"

"Indeed."

Zelda, concerned, gently placed her hand on Arcturus' arm. "Are you sure, uncle? I know you care for me, but I don't want you to suffer a loss because of my choices or if things go afoul. I never intended for you to get involved with me and my choice of Helmsworth—"

"—Shh, it's fine, my dear. I'm confident in our young champion. More importantly, I'm confident in you." 

There was no use dissuading him, Zelda knew, her uncle was quite the thrill-seeker. Like other Hyrules, he was stubborn once he made up his mind. She understood the feeling all too well.

The older Prince chortled again, attempting to set her young mind and heart at ease. "And besides, I'm old enough to make my own decisions in regard to my own household. You are not to blame my sweet niece should our friend down there miss his luck."

"Luck, is it?" Arasmus scoffed silently at the confidence displayed by Prince Arcturus, but the prince overheard and firmly stated, "Yes, because unlike you, I do believe in him. He will win."

"Well, for yours and my Princess's sake, I hope so."

Back on the field, Revali poised the hourglass high up for all to see, about to turn it over. "Now, on your marks, get ready, steady...." Anticipation swelled and a stillness hushed the entire arena, suddenly, a whole kingdom fell silent as they watched and listened for his final command.

"GO!" The game began with a flourish marked by a final rocket that blazed and screamed into the air leaving a trail of smoke, exploding showers of red and silver starlight. The onlookers hooted and hollered as men drew back their bowstrings and reached for their quivers. A surge of adrenaline rushed through the arena and the stands. Everyone was on their toes. 

The targets came alive and swayed side to side, dodging the volley of arrows that rained down upon them. For the first ten seconds it seemed nobody would be able to land their mark. Men gritted their teeth in frustration and others cursed under their breath as each new attempt drew them closer to failure. The whistling of shafts sang a song of near misses as they hit only empty air. And as the sands fell, tensions rose to a fever pitch.

The princess, her friends, and the king and other dignitaries were glued to the show. 

Suddenly, the first ping finally rang out across the arena, snapping back the attention of Zelda and the nobles. Thirty seconds had passed since the hopefuls began their attempts, and now, a well-dressed lord on the field, flanked by his two squires, reveled in their cheers. His lads, each hollering conflicting advice, only added to the lord's confusion. More pings soon followed, signaling that some contestants had found their rhythm, though it was difficult to discern who was leading amidst the roar of the competition.

Prince Arcturus, sensing the mounting excitement, raised his mug, contributing to the playful tension. "Not much time left until the next round, My Lord. So, do you accept? The wager involving the Ruby Ford, I mean, not the earlier trivial one."

Arasmus, considering the stakes, nodded with a tilt of his head, signaling his agreement. "If you insist, My Prince. For a thousand rupees and the Ruby Ford, we have a deal. But let's remember, it's all in good fun, regardless of the outcome, right?"

"Certainly," Prince Arcturus agreed, his voice resonating with excitement. The wager had added another electrifying layer to the already thrilling contest unfolding below.

In the arena, the last grains of sand were slipping through the hourglass. Revali, with a watchful eye, soared into the air, his gaze alternating rapidly between the contestants and the dwindling sands. As the final grain fell, a loud bell resounded, echoing deeply through the stands, and capturing the attention of every spectator.

Revali's commanding voice pierced through the tension. "And stop! Lower your bows and step back! This contest has concluded!"

The audience, now buzzing with anticipation, eagerly awaited the announcement of the results, their attention riveted on Revali as he prepared to declare the outcome of this intense round of competition.

The range of emotions among the men was palpable. A few, confident in their prowess, sported broad grins that stretched from ear to ear, whereas more expressed their frustration through curses, kicking up the muddy sands or by flinging their bows across the yard in defeat. One particularly proud lord adorned in rich fabrics and light armor took a bow so elegant it seemed he already considered himself the victor of the entire tournament, drawing blushed cheers from his lady admirers and snickers from those who found his display overly presumptuous.

Link, standing beside his loyal squire, observed the scene in silence, mentally preparing for his turn.

As Revali fanned his feathers, attempting to calm the energized crowd, a loud crack of thunder split the clouds overhead, silencing the audience better than any command could. Link began to feel the patter of rain as they dripped over his visor, every ping rattling his suit of armor, a cautious reminder of the ever-changing elements. Of course, just my luck.

"And now the tally will be counted! But, before we begin the final round, we will have a short intermission of ten minutes," Revali announced. "My lords and fair ladies, now would be the time for some refreshment, before we commence the better part of this game!"

In the royal booth, Zelda leaned back, whispering to Urbosa, "I sure hope he's ready. This fickle skyfall we're having today could make this challenge even more impossible."

Urbosa replied reassuringly, "Don't worry, I'm sure he's trained in similar circumstances before. And besides, what does your heart tell you?"

Zelda glanced down to a napkin she just noticed she'd been squeezing instinctively, loosening her grip. Letting out a sigh, she managed to lift her worried expression. "He will win...I know he will..." She said softly. 

Urbosa nodded and placed her hand on Zelda's shoulder. "Then have faith. And let your heart guide you, Little bird."

Arasmus, overhearing their exchange, added with a smirk, "Indeed, I'm curious as well to see if your champion's aim is as true in the rain as it is in fair weather. I wonder if he can really pull it off," he said, raising his cup for a cheering gesture with Arturus who only nodded forward in quiet confidence. "This should add an interesting twist to our little wager."

Zelda, masking her concern with a composed smile, perked up in her seat. "Indeed, it will make his victory all the more impressive."

As the intermission came to its close, Revali took to the arena stage once more and made a declaration. "The final tally is in, and It appears, seventeen failed to land a single shaft on target, and for that reason will be automatically disqualified from the rest of tournament." The crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and boos. Some of the contestants were enraged and stomped forward scoffing as if the results were rigged. Those who bet and lost fortunes in the audience also spat where they stood. Revali was having none of the outcry and amplified his voice to regain control. "Silence!" he commanded, and the arena fell quiet.

He cleared his throat to continue. "And then, there were fifteen of you who managed to strike only a single target," he said, his wings spanning over the hopefuls in a scoffing gesture. "Even less successfully struck two posts—thirteen to be precise. And then, we are left with the top five of these challengers who to their credit, landed three bullseyes! Our winners thus far!"

Revali pointed toward the throng at each of the five men who were victorious, signaling them up to the stage for a well-earned bow. "As triumphant as these men were," he said, the praise dissipating from his tone. "It is with regret that I must say, no-one mastered the trial and struck all four targets. Though these eighteen men will be safe from elimination, we still have no champion over this contest yet. Perhaps, the next round will bear more fruit!"

Some of the contestants exchanged bewildered looks, their faces etched with confusion and disappointment. The reality that only eighteen would advance weighed heavily in the air.

One of the lordly contenders, clad in the finest armor Link has ever seen rushed up the steps to interrogate the proud Rito, his colorful cloak laced in gold trim billowing behind him. "I'm sorry, my lord, or whoever you are, but I think I must have misheard you. Forgive me, but it almost sounded like you said only those who accomplished landing two or more targets will be moving on to the next trials."

"You heard right," Revali replied, unfazed by the lord's incredulity. Other contestants swarmed over as well, eager to challenge the ruling.

Revali, standing his ground, met their discontent with a steely gaze, shoving past the unruly lord. "I'm sorry, but this is a contest for winners and if you can hardly land a single target, then you are disqualified. Now, does anyone else wish to question the rules...or, shall I personally show you how it's done?" he said, stepping forward. "But, know this, I won't be loosing my arrows at any targets." Revali's eyed flared and his tone was a cold as the rain showering overhead. "And I don't miss."

The haughty man stepped back with a gulp and conceded to Revali's subtle threat. Others followed his lead and cleared the stage also which allowed Revali to resume the games.

From the royal booth, Zelda watched the whole altercation unravel, turning to Purah with curiosity, "What do you suppose that was all about?"

Purah shrugged, her voice laced with nonchalance. "Who knows? Probably just bruised egos. Maybe they thought their titles would carry them through. Sheesh, gimme a break. We're looking for champions here."

Back at ground level, Revali took charge of the crowd yet again and losers, with heads hung low cleared the field. Those who had survived the first round sought shelter under a nearby canopy, finding a moment's respite from the downpour and the tension of the competition. Here, they eagerly rubbed their hands together with the fog of their breath, warming their numb fingers from the chill now the need to yank on bowstrings had passed. For the time has come now to see if skill and courage could triumph over lineage and prestige. Link's group was next.

Revali made another decree and called the remaining contestants to take to the sands and get into their positions. Jun, with an encouraging grin, turned to Link. "You ready, sir?"

Link managed only a nod in response, his nerves tangling his words. The rain intensified, adding to the mounting pressure. And before he could depart his squire, another man standing by called out to him. 

"You there, fool, aren't you forgetting something?" said a tall man wearing blackened steel plate and roughened leathers. Oddly enough, he bore the Draene banner across his chest. The Fire Serpent. What is a Dragoon doing taking part in a competition such as this? Link thought. But there was no time to dwell on such things. The game has begun.

Link turned back around, to face the soldier. Jun, already scowling at the brute was just about to give him a piece of his mind when Link took the reins and spoke. "What's that you said?"

"Your quiver, man! You're walking up to the line without your quiver! How do you intend to loose off arrows without your sheaf? Hmm!?"

Jun blinked, realizing his folly, and mumbled to himself aloud. "But I just strapped on his quiver, where could have it gone? Surely, Sir just had it on." the boy frantically looked about for it in the staging section, confused.

Realizing he was indeed unequipped; Link almost fell into an inner panic. Other contenders walked up to their lines and were already in position. They were just waiting for Revali's command. Time was slipping fast, and Link needed his arrows if he was to make it to the next round at all.

The brute, lifting his visor to reveal a grimaced smile, offered a solution. "Here, take some of mine. The fools earlier handing out bundles gave me more than I needed. We're only allowed ten, remember? I have fourteen."

Link felt a wave of relief. If they split them evenly, then that still leaves seven each. Surely, he can land a couple hits if he focuses hard enough. It will be tough but not impossible.

The man chuckled rudely with a deep voice. "Here, you can have four. Ain't no way I'm sacrificing any of my ten for you." He said with a hint of disdain toward Link and his squire. Jun had just found the quiver but mysteriously, the arrows they were given earlier had vanished. Jun was baffled, he could've sworn he had already armed Link with them but perhaps in all the excitement, a mistake could have been made. But even stewing on that, he felt that very unlikely. In any case, they had a quiver now, all was left to load the arrows in. 

Jun, about to approach Link and strap him his quiver for a second time, was halted by him. "It's fine Jun. I'll manage without it. It's unnecessary at this point."

Jun scratched his head under his feather cap. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, that jerk only lent me four arrows. I can just hold them all in my hand. It's easier that way to be honest—and quicker too. My only worry now is—"

"—Is not to miss." Jun finished his sentence. All the while adding some caution to the wind. "It's going to be very tough getting through this mist and deluge, though. So, you gotta' focus hard sir."

"Gee, thanks Jun..."

"No problem, sir." The boy smiled, glad to be of service. And with that, Link made haste to his line in the sand and saw the dreaded target up ahead of him. It might as well been two-hundred leagues away, it looked so far. A thin post, no wider than twice an arrowhead stuck atop a wooden deck. And if that wasn't enough, once triggered it would sway side to side in a fury. After the bell there would be only one minute, so he had to make every second count.

Those in the royal box watched with anticipation as Revali held the hourglass up high for a final time for all to see. In a split decision, he turned it over and the match began. "Go!" he declared, to the chime of a ringing bell and another rocket bursting colors overhead.

A deJa'Vu of exhilarating adrenaline took hold of contenders and spectators alike. Zelda most of all could barely look and as she tried to shield her gaze with her fingers, she couldn't help but peek through. Every second felt like a lifetime and just as Link was about to try for his target which seemed like blur through fog and rain, something happened. 

A sudden twitch of nerves seized the grip he had on his string and his knees buckled slightly in the commotion. The furious onslaught of arrows and shouts of people hollering rang in his ears and then everything went grey.

Link's surroundings blurred and shifted, and when the greyness disappeared, he was left with nothing but clear blue sky. Somehow, he transported back to his childhood, to a boy just six years old and just recently taught how to use a bow. Even younger than how Jun is now. 

Back in those days, Link and his parents didn't live in Castletown and were settled in Zora's Domain. But, on this particular day, Link remembered it well. He and his father were on a journey, away from the sounds of rushing currents and splashing waterfalls. Here the day was crisp, chilly, and fresh pillows of snow had just fallen on the road along the winding pass. 

They were headed for a camping trip in the wooded mountains. For today was a special day. Link's father had planned yet another one of his famous lessons. 

"So, you're pretty good with a stave, I hear. That's good, but you've still got a bit to learn with a spear. Don't think I haven't heard about the mischief you and Bazz have been getting into," his father said, his voice a blend of humor and mild reproof.

Little Link, feeling a twinge of guilt, slumped in the wagon seat. Mom must have told him what happened. Oh boy, am I going to get it now.

"Three pots, was it? Or four?" his father mused, stroking his mustache, and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Never mind, the number doesn't matter. You broke them. Really, Link, haven't I trained you better? I thought you'd be able to play with the other boys without causing trouble, especially with other people's belongings," he gently scolded.

Link, not usually one for many words, managed to stammer, "It wasn't me, honest sir. Bazz wanted, well, he wanted to—"

"—It doesn't matter. You are my son, not him and you were the one who got caught. So, by everyone else's recollection, you were the culprit."

Link cast his gaze downward, feeling the weight of his father's words. The family's old grey mule, pulling their small cart, snorted and came to a halt, yawing slightly. Sensing his son's disheartened mood, Link's father shifted the conversation with a sigh. "Look, son, you're not in trouble, but promise me you'll be more forthcoming next time. I shouldn't have to hear about your shenanigans from strangers. And remember, we're guests in the Domain. We're fortunate they've been so gracious to take us in. Zora don't often welcome outsiders to live with them. At least, not for years on end.

Link shifted in his seat and listened while his father prattled on. "I think that is in no small part in thanks to you," he said, trying to cheer him up. "From what I hear, their princess has taken quite a kinship to you. Is that true?"

"Yes," Link said humbly. 

"Well, be careful boy, because the feelings of a princess is no small matter, no matter her size." His father counseled sternly. After a second or two admiring the scenic route he nodded affirmatively on the matter, pleased in his decision. "Still, I would rather you try and reframe from play with her if you can altogether. I know you may like her company, but we can't afford any misunderstandings with the Zora Royal Family. Like I said, we're guests in the Domain and it's gotta stay that way for some time. And besides, you're getting older and before you know it, you'll be a man grown. I mean, you're already at the proper age to be a page."

Link only listened quietly in his seat and didn't utter a phrase.

His father looked down at him. "So, are you up for it? To become a page? Soon after you'll be a squire and if you're lucky, maybe even a cadet for the Royal Guard. Not even I had that opportunity. How does that sound?"

Suddenly, Link did speak. "Papa," he said gingerly.

"Yes, son?"

"Why did we leave the Capital? Why aren't we living with our...well you know, Hylians like us?" Link asked as they sat still in the old wagon.

"I thought you like the Domain?" His father Tye asked, confused.

Link shook his head, perhaps his father got the wrong idea. "I do sir, but...actually, I really, really do. I mean, most of all my friends are here, well, it's just.... It's just..."

"You miss Sven, huh?"

Link nodded.

"And, I bet you miss his sweet mother's Burntberry pies too?" Tye said with a heart chuckle. 

Link lifted his head, trying to conceal his grin. 

"Well, son, when you're older, I'll tell you why we can't stay in the capital. But, as for now, let us enjoy our day. So, how confident are you with a bow?"

Link glanced up to his Pa and squeaked out. "I, uh, well, I've gotten many bullseyes Sir on Mister Frego's haybales. Actually, I gotten more than some of the soldiers who train there." Suddenly, Link's demeanor changed from a stern frown to a grin pulling at his lips as he told his story. "They say that they never seen someone get so many at my age. Princess Mipha said that if I was a Zora, I'd be able to even join their army someday—"

"—Now, now, Son, what did I say about bragging? Hmm?"

Link slunk back again. "I know Sir, it's just—"

"—It's bad manners, that's what it is. It's good to feel proud about your accomplishments, but don't ever let it lose sight of who you are."

"And who am I, papa? Why is it I am just as good as some of the older men? I can see on their faces they are trying so hard and well, for me it's like, it's like—"

"—Like it comes natural for you?" Tye smiled again, wiggling his mustache as he always did when his heart swelled with pride. "Well, son, that conversation is for another day, when you're a man grown. And besides, you may be good at hitting men made of straw, but can you land your arrow on a true, living target?"

Suddenly, a wave of nerves shivered over Link, and it wasn't due to the frosty chill that day. 

"Well?" Tye asked again.

Link spoke up. "No Sir, I haven't."

"Well, it's much different I can tell you that. Everything about it is different. To take a life is no small thing. All life is sacred, so it must be respected. From the food we eat to the enemies we face who come to hurt us. Never do harm, unless its absolutely needed. You understand?"

Link stewed on his words and nodded respectfully. 

"Good, now help me set up camp." He said, patting Link's lap in the wagon. "This will be the perfect spot for our base of operations til the morrow. Gotta get a fire going soon as possible too or we won't be able to find our way back. Because this afternoon we will be going on foot, you and I." Tye hopped from the carriage and marveled at the scenery, hands on his hips. The tall trees with their gray leaves were dusted with fresh powder and whistled as the wind blew. The rustling of a nearby stream could be heard as the water lapped against its banks. An eagle high above in the crystal blue sky shrieked as it spotted nearby prey. 

"Ready?" Tye asked wearing a grin.

Link smiled back and proceeded to unload the wagon and hitch the mule.

After several hours of trekking through the dense woods, Link and his father found themselves at the edge of a snow-covered clearing. Armed with only their bows and knives, they moved with the stealth and caution of seasoned hunters. Though, in reality, this would be Link's first adventure of this sort. In the distance, about twenty yards away, a deer was foraging, its antlers brushing away frost in search of any edible grass.

Crouching beside Link in the thicket, with a tree partially obscuring their presence, his father whispered guidance. "Remember, silence is key. We'll put snow in our mouths to mask the fog of our breath. Then, you can ready your bow."

Link mimicked his father, kneeling and scooping up a handful of snow, feeling its coldness numb his lips. He fought the urge to shiver, the icy sensation filling his mouth as he focused on the task at hand and slowly reached for his bow.

"Select your sharpest arrow and aim carefully," his father instructed in a hushed tone.

Link obeyed, his small fingers trembling slightly as he nocked the arrow. His father's voice, soft yet firm, guided him further. "Wait for the deer to pause. Breathe in deeply when it stops moving and then you may release. Only then you'll be able to land your target true."

The buck, unaware of their presence, continued its search for food. It paused momentarily, ears twitching, eyes searching the surroundings. Link remained motionless, camouflaged by his snow-tunic and the natural backdrop. They were also downwind, another lesson taught by his Father.

"Now, pull back the string and steady your hand. It's challenging, but don't falter. Any sudden movement, and the buck will spot you," his father warned.

Link, drawing on his newfound hunting skills and his father's teachings, held the bowstring taut, his young eyes fixed on the deer, waiting for the perfect moment to release the arrow. Fighting against the chill remained a vigilant cause and the deer seemed to not stand still. Link felt his arms tire pulling on the heavy bow never intended for a child, yet soldiered on. 

As the perfect shot seemed imminent, Link's resolve wavered. A sudden empathy for the deer washed over him. He could almost hear the creature's breath, sense its heartbeat racing — a living being, unaware of the looming danger. Link, who had never ended a life, felt an unfamiliar fear take hold, freezing him in place. His father, noticing Link's hesitation, whispered urgently, "Son, are you alright? Link?"

But Link was motionless as a frozen statue, his arrow aimlessly pointing away from the deer. Link's father spoke again. Son, what's the matter? Now's your chance."

His father's stern voice broke Link's paralysis, but only enough for him to release the arrow off into the scenery, missing its target entirely. In that moment of distraction, the deer sensed Link's presence. Startled, it darted across the clearing with swift urgency. 

Link's father, realizing the opportunity was slipping away, stood up and urged his son with growing intensity, "Again Link, he's getting away! Go for it! What are you waiting for?! Get him, Link!"

Link, still grappling with his emotions, couldn't bring himself to loose another shaft. A blur of steam clouded his vision as tears began to roll down his cheeks and with his young heart heavy with conflict, he aimed another arrow. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't find the will to let it fly. "C'mon, Son! Get him! Link!" his father called, but Link was lost in his turmoil.

Seeing his son's inner struggle, Link's father knew he had to act. He quickly drew his own bow, aiming high into the sky to account for the distance. With a skilled shot, the hunt was over — the deer was slain, and the lesson took on a new, unexpected weight on his heart.

Back at the tournament, a loud crash of lightning electrified a nearby pole waving Hyrule's banner and flashed the entire area, blinding everyone and awaking Link. He found himself back in the present, standing with bow in hand and arrow nocked. His squire was shouting, desperately pleading for him to act. How long was I out for? He thought, gathering his bearings. 

In the royal booth, things were as intense as ever. Zelda could hardly look but couldn't turn away. Like a moth to the flame her heart sank as she watched.

"C'mon Helmsworth, you can do this. Please, don't give up now." She mumbled silently to herself, as if praying. 

Arasmus couldn't help himself but overhear. Leaning forward after taking another delightful swig of his cup, he spoke. "It looks like your champion has gotten cold fingers and has cucco'ed out, my Sweet Sundelion. What a pity..." 

He then turned his attention to the prince who now sat arms folded. "What were you saying again, My Prince, 'the princess has a keen eye for talent'? I say, she just has an acquired taste for a pretty face and the hopeless."

Arcturus clarified. "I stand by my decision, and my wager, My Lord. If he falters you will indeed inherit the gems of my purse."

Zelda's brows furrowed into a frown, but before she could speak, Arasmus clarified gently with a raised hand. "But that is exactly why I cherish her. Such a sweet spirit she has; I mean, after all, someone must look after the hopeless." Others who weren't Zelda's friends, nodded in agreement.

The seneschal, with his silk laden tongue also spoke truth to the matter. "Truly, the goddess lives within her," He feigned a sigh. "What a kind soul we have among us. We should be so lucky."

Arasmus chortled, egged on by his friends. "It's true, I even hear she invited some other commons to join us for the feasts these next three days. An inspiration to us all." They all laughed in agreement again. "Isn't that right, Sundelion. A wedding is to happen I'm told?" he said, now facing her.

It was all she could do was to force a smile instead of slapping him. Instead, she returned her attention to the game unfolding. Time was slipping fast and Helmsworth hasn't made a shot at all. In fact, he hasn't even loosed an arrow at all. The whole time he has been frozen stiff.

Back on the field things were rising to a fever pitch. "Sir, what are you waiting for!?" Jun hollered at Link; mirroring his father's words from his past, worry strained across his face. "C'mon, you can do it! You can make this! Please, wake up! You only have ten more seconds!" he pleaded.

And then, something triggered inside Link. For all his life he has been told to keep his talents hidden, lest he draw attention from others. And suddenly, after a lifetime of training and all the late-night speeches, after all the struggles and lessons from his father, he was now ready. He won't fail, not this time. 

Through the haze of confusion and the shouts of the crowd, Link heard his squire. In a blink and a breath that fogged the frosty air, Link found his cool resolve, steadied his quivering arm and shook away his doubts. The world slowed around him and the seconds grew still in his mind as he unleashed shaft after shaft in short succession at the hazy targets off in the distance. Mouths in the stands dropped, cheers erupted and those in the royal booth were stunned, unable to believe their lying eyes. Surely, what they were witnessing was impossible, right?

Could it be true? As if planned all along, the young contender sent a blitz of arrows that screamed as they sliced through the chill wind like forward missiles, each pelting their marks true. Five seconds left and the princess sprang from her seat, her gaze glued on Helmsworth and with both fists clenched in nervous anticipation. A smile slowly curled at her lips as she realized the inevitable conclusion. Her heart sang to the song of his arrows landing.

Around and round the reel spun, ringing like music to her ears. Faster and faster each time revealing a new post to hit and one after the other they were struck with perfect precision. With just two seconds to spare the sands of the counting clock of the hourglass fell. Revali flapped over just to make sure and as the last ones sank to the lower chamber, the contest was over. The Rito master fanned out his feathers wide with a shout to silence all on the field. "And game! Lower your bows and stand back! Let the tallies be counted!"

Link had struck all four targets with a perfect score to sound of ringing bells. An exhilarated Jun darted to hoist their flag proudly for all to see and with that, the last target sank into the deck, igniting a lone rocket to commemorate the achievement in blue and gold sparks. Link had won the round. 

“You were saying, My Lord?” Zelda said to Arasmus, trying to conceal her gloating smile befitting of a sweet maiden.

“I uh,…uh,” the lord stammered, at an utter loss for words.

Zelda’s uncle rose from his chair and reached over Arasmus and swiped the purse that sat on the table with the rupees spilled out. “I’ll be taking those,” he finished with a chortle. “All in good fun I trust, right?”

The stunned lord shook his head of what he just witnessed and glanced up to the Prince. “Um, right, of course. All in good fun,” he said, slumping back into his seat with a phony laugh, dumfounded how it could have ended this way.

Zelda all the while was walking on a cloud, being congratulated by her friends while Lord Arasmus couldn’t help but sit there dwelling on the matter. There seems to be more to this soldier than I thought. I must find out who he is before he becomes a problem.

Authors Note: Hello friends, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Just a few more until we return to the current part of the story. Please, let me know your thoughts. Comments help the story more than you can imagine. Thanks and enjoy.

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why we failed part 12

A lay of Lances

Along the fences of the arena where the commons spectated, Athelon was in an uproar preparing his initiates for the upcoming trials that would proceed after the contests. His mood more sour than usual. The lads were shoulder to shoulder at attention in formation awaiting orders.

Athelon's spit mingled in a muddy puddle on the ground as he faced the would-be guardsmen. "Has anyone have an idea where Link is? We have some last-minute preparations to go over and soon this whole circus behind me will be over. And that means the princess will be making her debut any moment now," he asked, his one good eye surveying the young men, as if to peer into their souls for the truth. "Then it will be your turn to prove yourselves. But until then, we have until this mummer's farce is over. They say I must accept three champions, one from each contest to join you lot. So, I'll ask one more time, where in Demise's hell is Link!?"

Sven, Link's loyal friend, felt a knot in his stomach, aware of that truth Athelon sought. None of the cadets moved a muscle.

The strong, bearded veteran barked again while flexing fists at his sides. "Well!?"

Sven broke, like a twig facing a storm's fury and stumbled forward hesitantly, his voice a mumble, "I…uh, I think—"

Like a lion, Athelon seized on the shivering lad like prey. The old man's war-ravaged eye locking on Sven with its terrifying cloudy haze. "What? What is it you think? C'mon, out with it boy, we haven't got all evening!"

Sven stammered, mustering courage, "He is uh, well what I mean to say is, he was with his father just before these tourneys began. I saw him, that is."

"And where is he now? He does understand what's at stake, doesn't he?" Athelon's voice boomed.

Another voice piped up from the crowd, tinged with mockery to the cackling delight of his friends standing behind him. "Perhaps he cucco'ed out. Maybe he's afraid his little tricks won't cut it when the real trials start."

"I don't remember asking you!" Athelon whirled around, growling through clenched teeth. "You best stay silent if you know what's good for you Cocksure! Don't think your family name can protect you here. I don't a give a moblin's fang whose blood you're related to. The sweet goddess from heaven above wearing nothing but a chemise can come down to tell me herself, and I still wouldn't give a damn. You got me? You're all clay in my eyes. So until the festival ends, you're mine."

The mocking boy stiffened, falling back into formation, while Athelon stormed over to return his fiery gaze on Sven, standing barely an inch away. "So, lad, I believe I asked you a question, where is Link?"

Sven gasped, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I don't know. I only spoke my mind because, I know he wants to be here. He told me that much. It's just he had some business with his father, that's the Hylia, honest truth, I swear. I'm sorry," the boy finished, now visibly shaking in his Royal Cadet armor.

Athelon stepped back, his expression shifting into a contemplative scowl. "Well, then I guess, I'll just have to have a word with the commander about that. But, if you're saying he was granted permission, then there's nothing left to it but to start our final drills without him. Though he will have a much harder time than the rest of you when the first Trial of the Flame commences." His eyes glinted mischievously at Sven. "And since you're so keen on covering for your friend, then perhaps you can be the one to help him along when the real trials begin. Apparently, he is beyond heeding my instructions and help."

"It's not like that sir—"

"—Silence! I'm the one speaking here!" Athelon's voice thundered.

At that moment, a tumultuous roar erupted from the arena, drawing Athelon's gaze. The contestants to his backside just finished their onslaught of arrows and the crowd among the stands unanimously roared in cheers, whistles and howling jeers.

Athelon blinked, distracted by all the commotion flanking his company of cadets. The commoners along the picket fences nearby were more in a frenzy – some jubilant, others disgruntled, and a few even resorting to brawls over disputed bets, spilling platters, drinks and knocking over tables. Athelon, his focus momentarily diverted, signaled a nearby guard to take several men to intervene and restore order, a stern look etched on his weathered face.

And then that's when he heard the herald speak, addressing the audience.

Revali stood frozen, his feathers slightly ruffled, betraying his surprise. The usual confident air about him had faltered, his beak agape in disbelief. The thought that someone could match - no, surpass - his skill in archery was inconceivable. Yet here he was, witnessing an accomplishment he had deemed impossible. "No one can be this good," he muttered under his breath, disbelief clouding his mind. How could anyone strike all four targets? And with perfect bullseyes too!? It's impossible. Nobody is as good as me. Nobody!

Link, meanwhile, was gradually coming back to reality from his intense warrior's trance. The jubilant shouts and clapping felt distant at first, but as he became more aware of his surroundings, he found Jun by his side, his youthful face split by an ear-to-ear grin. "You did it! You did it, sir! I knew you would win," Jun exclaimed, his voice carrying over the crowd's roar.

Link bent his head down to face the boy. Still unable to form words, the lad continued his praises. "You'll be happy to know that while you were preparing during the last intermission, I managed to find someone to swap our mule for a trusty steed. And for a fair price too!"

Link blinked from under his helm, still unable to digest what just happened. Did I really just win the first contest? How? Clearing his throat, he mumbled back to his squire. "Uh, is that so? What fair price?—"

"—Oh, it isn't much, it's just that well…." Jun poked the sand with the toe of his boot. "Well…"

"Jun, what did you do?" Link pressed, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

The boy stepped back with a gulp and scratched the scraggly hair underneath the back of his hat but before he could reply, the grand herald took to the stage and bellowed a proclamation to the rambunctious audience. "My Lords and ladies, what a wonderful and unforeseen turn of events this evening! We might have ourselves a champion in the making! A new master of the archery contest!" the port belly man declared joyfully. He then gave a wave of his hand to point out Link among the other contenders who survived the match, catching him off guard as he was dealing with his squire. "Come noble warrior, join me here so that the people may delight in your victory! I'm sure our King and princess would want to have a better look at you!"

As he singled out Link, all the other men simultaneously sidestepped away, including Jun, leaving Link before he could react in an isolated empty circle of space for all to see. The feeling of a thousand eyes burned his back that even the pitter patter of rain couldn't extinguish.

"Gee, thanks, so much for being in this together," Link muttered, a mix of nerves and frustration.

Jun grinned back once he got at a safe distance from the attention, rubbing the back of his head. "Don't worry, sir, you got this. No problem!" He hollered encouragingly.

Meanwhile, Revali collected his composure and flapped atop the stage, his blue feathers now neatly preened. "I think I can take it from here, Grand Herald, Tisus, thanks," he said, dismissing the man, a touch of forced cheer in his voice, masking his inner turmoil. "Well, you heard him," he said, speaking to Link impatiently. "Make your way to the stage. I'm sure the people are dying to meet the man under the helm."

Link stiffened, the weight of the moment sinking in. He was suddenly very aware of the countless eyes on him, including those of the King and Princess Zelda. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, each step feeling heavier than the last. His mind raced with thoughts of discovery and the repercussions it might bring. What do I do now, only my father knows I enlisted in the preliminaries, he wondered, a sense of urgency building within him. I also haven't told her who I really am.

In the royal booth, the atmosphere was thick with intrigue and astonishment. The tournament had just witnessed an unexpected victor.

Lord Arasmus, his tone laced with a blend of surprise and skepticism, leaned in toward the others. "Well, that's a first," he remarked, his eyes fixed on Helmsworth in the arena.

The seneschal, intrigued by Lord Arasmus's observation, inquired, "What's that?" he said, in a flowery tone that matched the perfume of his breath. A mingle of sweet mead and lilacs. "Did you say something?"

Lord Arasmus gestured towards the victor; his voice tinged with disbelief. "I've never seen a man win and not gloat about it. I mean, look at him. So much hesitation. You'd think he doesn't even want to be here."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that he still hasn't even taken off that ridiculous helm of his. Surely, he'd want the praise at least, or the admiration of maidens watching. Not so much as even a bow or flourish. He's just standing there like a stone talus."

Princess Zelda, who had been watching the scene unfold with a thoughtful gaze, interjected softly, yet firmly, "Not everyone craves fame, My Lord. Some men do things for honor's sake. I believe Helmsworth's intentions are to be a true knight."

"You believe?" Questioned the Seneschal, amused.

"I Know," Zelda said with heartfelt conviction.

The seneschal, nodding in agreement with the princess, added philosophically, "Tis true, My Lord," he said, turning to face Arasmus with another whisper in his ear. "Sometimes a young heart stirs for the sake of the flame and not the heat that it brings. As it may be the case here with our young mystery knight that has so kindled the curiosity and allure of our Princess."

Lord Arasmus, however, remained unconvinced, his words dripping with cynicism. "Spare me, Lord Seneschal. Every man has ambition, whether big or small, and every man desires glory. Trust me, once he has a taste of it, it will be all he ever seeks. Mark my words, this would-be champion of yours, My Sundelion, will be just like all the rest before the week is out. You'll see. That is, if he can keep up that luck of his."

Zelda's uncle Arcturus spoke overhearing, "Well, one thing I know for sure is that the people do love a good mystery knight. Always seems to spice things up if there's ever a dull affair. Mayhaps, he is just trying to keep things interesting?" he said with a light chortle to lighten the mood, not before leaning to the ear of the princess to where only she could hear. "Or, perchance, keep a particular somebody interested?" He finished with a smile and toast of his goblet to all the rest, who followed him with pleased mutual sips.

Athelon turned all his attention to the man being summoned atop the stage in the grand arena. "Did he really just achieve a perfect tally?" Even that sort of praise and cheers caught his attention. His one good eye scowled while his scarred one zeroed in on the mysterious warrior clad in pristine, castle forged steel. "Hmm, I wonder…But, it can't be. Could it?" Athelon muttered to himself. He then shook his head and returned focus back on the lads preparing in front of him, all the while the tantalizing mystery chewing at his thoughts. I wonder…

Link reluctantly moved towards the stage; each step felt like a march towards an uncertain fate. It was as if he had been summoned to meet The Weepers ax instead of a commendation. The deafening cheers of the crowd faded into a distant hum as his mind raced with thoughts of discovery and consequence. The other contestants parted, creating a pathway, their faces a mix of awe and envy. As he ascended the steps, the rhythmic thud of his boots matched his labored breathing in heavy armor. The first stair made his gut drop as if he missed, the split-second feeling of free-falling through empty air, almost caused him to stumble. But, he swiftly corrected as he climbed and found his footing.

Revali, with a barely concealed impatience, glowered at Link. The Rito Master's feathers bristled slightly as he turned to address the audience, their attention fixed on the mysterious victor. "Behold, our archery contest champion," Revali announced, his voice echoing across the stadium. Turning to Link, his whisper was sharp, a contrast to his public tone. "Well, what's your name, then?"

Link's swallowed, trying to find the words to say but his mouth went dry. "Um, it's, Helmsworth," he managed to utter, his voice muffled under the helm.

Revali's beak twitched in annoyance. "Speak up, can't hear you," he hissed. The proud Rito rolled his eyes impatiently. "Maybe remove that mangy mutt covering your face so we can actually understand you. They want to meet you!"

Link's heart drummed at the realization of anyone spotting him among the crowd. Not to mention, word would most certainly reach her, and he would have a world of explaining to do about why he misled her. Seeing no way out of revealing himself, he realized there was no use delaying the inevitable and so, he instinctively took a humbled knee before Revali and the herald. And as he unlatched the chin of his helm, a loud disturbance diverted everyone's attention.

A terrible explosion, followed by a brilliant flash, erupted from the direction of the pavilions. The crowd's gasps and murmurs swelled into a wave of confusion and concern. High born maidens arose from their plush seats in worry as men nearby also awoke from their merrymaking, knocking drinks to reach for sheathed blades in anticipation.

The herald, caught off guard, struggled to maintain calm. "No cause for alarm," he announced, "We're looking into it. Not to worry!" As soon as he spoke, soldiers on duty among the crowd rushed toward the exits to investigate.

Taking no chances in the royal booth, Captain Tye, Link's father, leapt into action and issued swift orders to Finn and Grinn, his most trusted men. "Grinn, take who you need and go check it out. Finn, you're with me. We must protect the King and Princess."

"Sir." Finn's temple flared as he let out a small grunt in protest at his captain's initial command. He then leaned to whisper in the ear of Tye. "Let me go and have a look about instead."

Tye, eyeing Finn's limp with concern, questioned his readiness. "But what of your leg? Will you be alright?"

"I'm fine. I can do this."

"Are you sure? Because Grinn is more than capable enough to—"

"—I'm the one who beat back the Dregs at Skorin River Pass and turned the tide of the war, aren't I? Or, has everyone forgot? I think I can handle one small ruckus such as this," Finn said annoyed, now squeezing a fist at his side drawing white knuckles.

"But—"

"—I said, I'm fine, Sir. Trust me. Besides, Grinn is my underwing, and I would rather him stay by your side while I handle it. This is where protection is needed most."

"Very well, if you insist, go," Tye said. Torn between concern and trust he finally nodded in agreement. "Take the lead then. Grinn and I will ensure the safety of the royal family here."

King Rhoam, observing the exchange, stood from his seat, his hand instinctively moving from his goblet to the glistening jeweled hilt of his sword. A reflex from years past during his warrior days; long before he was King and had a last name nearly forgotten to call his own. "Then, commander, do you suggest we postpone the rest of the games til the morrow or—?" he queried, his voice laced with concern.

Commander Tye responded confidently, "No need, Your Highness. It's likely an accident. Probably those new glitter rockets that the Sheikah pyromancers have been using running amok," he said, making up a likely story to calm the nerves of those present. "There's been a lot of cargo these past few days and I'm amazed an accident hasn't happen sooner. Rest assured, My King, if there's something going on, my men will get to the bottom of it."

Lord Danarus, father to Arasmus, seated beside the King was not to be outdone and beckoned his son to command a soldier of their own as well. "My son, I think it would be prudent for you to send one of your Dragoons to go along as well. What do you think?"

Arasmus awoke in his seat. "Sure, thing father," he said, shooting a glance at one of his men to come to his side to have a listen. "Well, you heard my father. Take all you need to assist and get to the bottom of this," he said to the soldier who was leaning to hear his order. "We can't be too cautious, especially on such an important evening as this." And before the soldier darted off, he yanked him back, this time with a whisper to only he could hear. "Take an extra look about as well and keep an eye on that Guardsman. Something seems off. I don't trust their type."

The soldier understood with a nod and Arasmsus' father spoke again to the conclusion of the matter. "Very well, then, all seems to be taken care of now, back to our festivities in the meantime while we wait," he announced with authoritative gravitas, nodding firmly a silent understanding with his son. The soldier, clad in the resplendent, blackened armor of House Draene saluted them both, then hastened after Finn, disappearing down the stairs in swift pursuit.

Startled in her seat by the disturbance happening at the pavilions, Zelda instantly felt a man's hand glide over hers on the table. "Not to worry, your highness," Arasmus declared confidently. "That Guardsman has the right of it, you'll see. Probably just a loose cannon went off. The likely culprit an ill-versed Sheikah magician making a fool of themselves. Their obsession with archaic sorcery is bound to lead to accidents. Those dolts don't get that if you continue to dabble with powers you don't understand, something most certainly is going to go awry. Let's just hope it's nothing more than a scare and that no one was harmed, or worse, killed due to their ignorance."

On the deck below, a noble and young maiden with long, dark hair cascading over her fair shoulders, turned to face them, her face etched with exaggerated distress. "You don't think someone could have actually died, do you?" she inquired, her voice laced with a blend of worry and fascination. Her tone sought reassurance like that of a damsel who needed protection. Much to Zelda's hushed, yet mild annoyance she could tell she only wanted an excuse to hear the sound of Lord Arasmus' voice.

Arasmus sat up in his seat and gestured for one of his Dragoons to lend his ear to him. "Perhaps, out an abundant of caution, maybe I should have Stonebreaker fetched to me, so the ladies here can feel more at ease. Why don't you go and bring her to me. After all, like they say, I am the best sword in all of Hyrule."

"Yes, my lord," replied the soldier, before scurrying off away after the others who went to investigate.

"Oh? Stonebreaker, what's that?" Asked the ditzy lady sat below them.

"Only the greatest, great sword this side of Death Mountain."

"Oooh," the girl replied, unable to conceal her blush as Arasmus sat back proudly with his arms flexed behind his head.

"We are at fine," Zelda grumbled. "There's no need, My Lord."

Arasmus ignored her, still trying to court and win the approval of the other ladies present with his self-grandiosity.

Urbosa taking Zelda's lead continued with a verbal joust of her own. "That's right," she said with a light chuckle. "We wouldn't want you to spoil yourself, now would we, My lord? Or—reveal too much of that strength and courage you mentioned earlier. Think of the poor maidens having to witness such acts of a true hero. I mean, after all, it could be dangerous in itself to unleash such a terrific power rumor mentioned on display. I mean, compared to your talents, this lot wouldn't stand a chance against you," she said, pointing to the men down in the arena.

"We don't want these poor ladies to fall and stumble over one another for you now. And on these stands too, they are so high up, and they could have quite the tumble below. That would be the real tragedy here and such a needless loss." Urbosa finished.

"Indeed," Purah rolled her eyes, to the soft chortle of Mipha who had been listening.

Zelda couldn't help but suppress a giggle as well to Arasmus' quiet annoyance, but he played it off and ignored Urbosa. He continued to answer the question posed by the lady and her friends sat below them on the deck, who were still infatuated with him, despite Urbosa's effort. "Well, these Sheikah have been known to harbor dangerous magic before. Dolts the lot of them," Arasmus said, seizing the moment, speculated with a thoughtful stroke of his clean-shaven chin. "And let us not forget who their kindhave blood ties with. Yiga."

The princess blinked, taken aback at his nonchalant attitude and obvious contempt for Sheikah people.

Purah's brows bent into a fury and just as she was about to rise and rage in protest, Zelda calmed her with a well-placed hand on her shoulder to intervene. "Well, in any case, accident or not, these Pyromancers are not magicians, they are trained scientists, and they are not dolts as you say—Nor are they to blame for, Hylia forbid, an accident. How can you say something so callous?"

"Forgive me, My Sundelion, I forget my place," Arasmus said, suddenly remembering why he was there while forgetting half the company he was in. He swiftly tilted his head toward Zelda. "You are right. And I offer my apologies to you ladies as well if I offended any of you." His gaze flickered with a hint of regret as he offered a genuine conciliatory look to Impa, Purah, and another Sheikah maiden at their side. "Pardon my outburst. It's just that I simply lament the missed opportunity to unveil your mysterious Helmsworth below. Or haven't you noticed he absconded away in the commotion?"

Zelda blinked again but this time her gaze searching the arena below. She and everyone had been so preoccupied with the startling disturbance that she hasn't given it a second thought to see Helmsworth reveal himself to the audience. Sure enough, Arasmus was right, he was nowhere to be seen among the other contenders and it seemed the herald, wanted to proceed with the contests to make up for lost time.

A stream of royal guardsmen marched fervently towards the stage, parting through the throng of contestants like a ship cleaving through ocean waves. The lead guard exchanged a meaningful glance with the Herald who stood atop the deck, looking confused as to what is happening as anyone. When his gaze met the cold stare coming back from the lead guardsman, a silent conversation shared between them that spoke volumes in the hush of the arena. Suddenly, as if relaying all he needed to say with just a glance, the commanding soldier turned away and nodded a command for his men to fallback and return to the stands of onlookers.

The Herald, momentarily befuddled, quickly composed himself under the weight of countless expectant gazes. His voice, slightly tremulous yet striving for confidence, reassured the audience, "It appears, all is in order," he said, shuffling and fidgeting with the trim of his robes. "See, everyone, like I said, not to worry. I have been just informed that—"

His assurance was abruptly cut short by the arrival of a slender man rushing in colorful, formal robes, that of someone in service to the higher nobility. Darting through the competitors with an urgency, he leaned close to the Herald, murmuring words that caused the latter's eyes to flicker with apprehension and contemplation.

The crowd, sensing the strangeness, grew tense and restless, to the point their murmurs swelled into a storm of speculation and concern. The Herald, now armed with new information, cleared his throat authoritatively, regaining control of the situation. "As I was saying, I have been informed that all is well, and things are under control. Just a slight hiccup with the magicians it would seem. N—nothing more," he said, dabbing the shiny sweat from his bald forehead with a handkerchief.

He then coughed, cleared the croak in his throat as best he could and continued to pontificate with a booming voice. "Percy here assures me that a small fire has been put out due to a minor, miniscule, mishap and that the games should commence immediately without delay!" he assured, downplaying the severity of the interruption. "But first," he proposed, a fresh idea coming to mind. "To add to the excitement, we must match spectacle for spectacle, that's what I say!" he said to the roaring approval of the audience. "So, Let us enjoy a slight intermission while we prepare the next contest!"

With these words, he gestured desperately to a bunch of musicians twiddling their thumbs on the sidelines and waved for stage performers too; beckoning them to fill the air with melodies and distractions, as the preparations for the next contest were hastily set in motion. Jugglers, mummers, and even fire breathers took to the edge of the arena to dazzle those watching.

Meanwhile, Revali, standing and looking perplexed at what just happened coughed beside the man as the audience's attention fell back into the theatrics being performed by the entertainment. "And what about our champion here?" he said, waving his feathers toward Link, or rather, where Link was standing seconds ago.

"Who?" Asked the Herald, gesturing to Revali to turn around and have a look himself; and that if he did, he would see that their champion had performed a magician's trick of his own and vanished. Where Link was earlier now stood several anxious lords clad in fine armor, ready for the next bout to begin.

"What the? Where did he? How could he?" Revali murmured to himself.

The proud Rito's temper flare just as he felt a nudge on his wing from behind. Lo and behold to his side stood the short squire named Jun. "Hello sir, or master, or whoever you are—Sorry for my manners, but my Sir had some urgent business to do when he heard that an intermission was called. He offers his apologies and hopes you don't mind but he will be returning when the next game begins."

Through a clenched beak of frustration Revali grumbled. "Oh, did he now? Isn't he aware that it is tradition for the victor of the archery contests to partake in the first round of jousts? Not to mention, her Royal Highness was expecting a formal introduction," he said, glowering at the lad.

Jun only smiled nonchalantly, "Nope. I reckoned he didn't, sir or master, or whoever you are—"

"—I'm Revali, or better yet, Archmaster Revali to you."

"Well, sorry Archmaster Revali, but he said he will be back shortly. Oh, and he told me to tell you his name is Sir Helmsworth. Since you were all asking earlier and that's what you wanted. Now you won't be needing him until the games are finished. Well, anyways, I must be going now to help him. Goodbye!" and before the boy could be stopped, he scurried off down the wooden planks of steps and back through the crowd of contenders to the pits where men prepared for the next challenge.

Revali had half a mind to apprehend the lad when the Herald interrupted him. "Let him go. Better for us anyway. It appears the Royals above forgot anyway, and we really must be getting this show underway. Now, what about those results?"

"Huh?" Revali blinked back, still agitated and half listening.

"The results of the contest." The Herald prodded to where only he could hear. "The Flight of the golden arrow or whatever you called this circus you had on earlier. Do we know who will be advancing forth?"

Revali shook his head. "Um, yeah, sorry. Where's my tally!?" he snapped at a stagehand. One of the men who were tasked with running the tourney.

"Here you are, m'Lord," bowed a hylian man who held a scribbled list scratched on a parchment, handing it to the proud Rito. Revali's pupils frantically shifted side to side over the list, studying the scores as he read it thoroughly as an eagle would judge its prey from afar. Taking only several minutes to evaluate the results he raised his wing for all to hear him.

"Hey, hold on just a second, calm your cuccos, m'lord," said the Herald, rushing to stop Revali. "I told the people they would have a slight intermission first. And besides, between you and me, we need a moment to breathe and give the lads time to set up the lists and clear the tiltyard. Just ten minutes is all we need."

"Oh, very well, then," Revali huffed, folding his wings, the parchment flapping while still gripped at his side.

The rain eased into a gentle drizzle as Jun located Link leaning against the dimly lit corridor's wall, separating the contenders' yard from the arena.

"There you are!" Hollered Jun, only to meet a stiff a finger from Link to hush. He didn't want to be noticed just yet.

"Oh, sorry, I mean, there you are." Jun whispered. "I went looking for you by the stables and they said you haven't come by yet. But don't worry, I'll take care of that."

Link, now leaning on a barrel, helm in hand, sighed deeply. "Well, now you found me," he acknowledged, his tone weary. He studied his helmet, tracing its steel engravings while musing aloud. "Look, I don't know Jun. Maybe I should forfeit before things go too far. What if I'm caught before I can explain myself to her?"

"You won't be!" Assured the bright-eyed squire.

"Look, I don't even know how I managed to win that last round. It's hard to explain…but during the match, it felt like…like I was someone else. You know what I mean?"

"No, I don't know what you mean," Jun admitted. "I'm always just me."

Link attempted to suppress a sighing laugh that escaped his lips. "Yeah, I suppose not. Of course, you wouldn't know. How can anyone? Forget it." Link pondered a moment leaving Jun in awkward silence. I haven't felt this way in ages. Could that sort of power really exist within me? Is it even mine? I could've sworn I hid those feelings as I was told to do so. For so long they've been gone I almost believed they were nothing but a distant dream. But they're not, they're real. Or at least, I think.

Jun gave him a funny look of concern and curiosity like if he just lost his sanity. Link continued, ignoring Sven's stare, lost in his thoughts, but this time speaking aloud. "I mean, of course I was me. It's just that during the heat of the moment, when time felt like it was slipping through my fingers, I lost myself and froze. And just as I was about to give up, a rush came over me out of my control and I let go for a fleeting moment. A feeling that I haven't felt since before I was your age, in fact. A feeling I could've sworn I've forgotten and just as quickly as it came, it faded again like it was never there at all. I just—"

"—Will you stop whining already? Sheesh. Snap out of it! You make having special powers sound like a bad thing."

A hint of a smile flickered across Link's face, though his brows quickly bent to maintain a stern expression. Jun had the right of it though. Maybe he was overthinking things, but in his defense he retorted. "It's not about having special powers. I don't have—"

"—Well, whatever you want to call them!" Jun continued, eager as ever to still prove their mettle. "Look, Sir, you won, that's all that matters! I thought you were brilliant! And so did the crowd. Especially her, or didn't you notice?"

"Sorry, but I was a little busy at the moment, or didn't you notice?" Link said, recollecting the strenuous match.

The boy cupped his chin, remembering as well. He waved his hands dismissively. "Um, right…Well, never mind that. Anyway, besides, she is expecting you to make it to the end! And—I'm expecting you to win that prize mone—I mean, think about what she would think if you just up and left? Huh? C'mon sir, you can't let her down now. There ain't no getting off this horse we're on now."

"We're?" Link echoed, a genuine smile now playing on his lips, thanks to Jun's uplifting pep talk.

"Yeah, and speaking of which, we have to go fetch your steed, or rather, I do. You wait here. They said they will be beginning the jousts soon. Mayhaps, you might want to wait here or actually, better yet, stand with the others. Don't worry, they're not looking to find out who you are anymore. I saw and end to that. Now, you better hurry or you'll miss your chance. I gotta run now!"

"Hey, uh, Jun—" Link called out, a note of gratitude in his voice.

Jun paused mid-run, looking back expectantly. "Sir?"

"Thanks...," Link said sincerely.

"Right," he said with a boyish nod of adventure. "I'll be back faster than you can say 'mighty banana'!"

Link watched him dash off, slightly baffled by Jun's peculiar choice of words. Mighty banana? He had never heard that expression before. With little time to dwell on such musings, he donned his helm firmly and had barely started down the alleyway when a commotion around the bend snagged his attention.

Raised voices and the sound of an argument drifted to his ears. Curiosity piqued, he edged closer, his steps cautious yet determined. The scene that unfolded before him was an argument between two men: a towering figure, his voice deep and rough like that of a moblin and a smaller, wiry man, clad in a tough, leather apron indicative of a blacksmith. The disparity in their sizes was stark, the larger man's stature imposing and threatening as he loomed over the smaller one.

The large man, with a stiff poke of his fingers, shoved the defiant worker in the chest and growled. "Look, I don't care what rules you have to bend or break, this needs to be done, got it? You got your rupees. That was deal."

"Well, the deal has changed. I'm under scrutiny now since that damn fire went ablaze," he retorted, a hint of fear now creeping into his voice as the threat of violence escalated. "What was that anyway?"

"I don't care!" snapped the large man.

"Well, I do! There's guardsman buzzing like bees everywhere now, looking for would-be culprits. Everyone is being watched. I just, I just can't, I change my mind. The deal is off. If I get caught I'll be—"

The tension escalated, the conversation veering towards a darker path. "—You'll be dead if you don't, so do it! A deal is a deal, and we had a bargain. If you don't, my lord will hear about this, and you know what happens when my lord hears things he doesn't like."

"Your lord may be worrisome, true, but I fear the wrath of the king more. And besides, does his lordship's father know what you're up to? Why are you so keen on hurting this young soldier anyway? Why is he worth so much to blunder?"

"That business is my own. Now, do the damn job you were paid to do and beat those pigments into the metal of the blades so they match the color—And don't forget to swap the coronel of my lance with one of those new ones. There can be no mistakes."

Neither were willing to back down and as Link inched closer, unseen, the two men fell silent, sensing an intruder. The large man turned, his gaze narrowing on Link. Immediately they hushed their quarrel.

Recognition flickered in his eyes and Link knew. It had been the same burly, mean looking Dragoon who lent him the four arrows earlier during the contest. Why was he threatening this other fellow? Instinctively, Link made it his business. He didn't like bullies. And besides he had to repay him for his kindness earlier for lending the handful of arrows. "Is something the matter?"

"Oh, sweet Hylia, that's him—Speak of demise! What odds?" The smithy said, but before Link could hear, the burly man shoved him hard in the chest again to quiet so he can speak.

"This is a private party, and I don't like being snuck up on. So, if you know what is wise, you'll walk away and forget anything you think you may have heard, Sir—?" The brute asked, cracking his knuckles, wearing a grimace. "Sir—who are you now?"

"Between us, Link, but right now I'm Helmsworth, if you must know," Link said confidently, arms folded.

"Well, L—or, Helms—whoever you are, get lost," said the brute, who seemed to have trouble remembering basic names or difficulty listening. Clearly he had two helpings of brawn and half a helping of brain, Link surmised. And with that the man sneered, dismissing Link's inquiry with a wave of his hand. "Like I said, this is a private party, so git!"

Link, his sense of justice piqued, couldn't walk away. "Yeah, and I seem to have lost my invite. Pity, the post is so unreliable these days, now with the festival going on about."

"What did you say?" the man shook his head, unsure if he heard what he thought he heard and spoke again, taking a stomp towards Link. "Did you hear me? This is none of your business! Now, get out of here before you get yourself hurt."

"But I already am hurt you see." A cool smile began to crease on Link's face, yet he folded it back into a stern look. "My feelings that is. I missed my party invite. So, you see, there's really nothing else more you can do to me now."

"Pfft, I'd squash you! Like a puny bugger!"

"That would require you to catch me first," Link retorted, a smirk now really begging to tug at his lips.

"Look, just because you think you're some champion because you managed to score in the match, doesn't make you a hero. Because this is real life and isn't a game. There are no such things as heroes! Luck won't save you like it did earlier. Now stay out of my way or you will live to regret it!"

"Ah, so I will live, then? Can't be that bad if I'll live."

"Why you little pissant!" The man raged, and reflexes reached for a dirk atop an anvil that that the smith had been working on and bared it, ready to slash. Link braced himself for a skirmish, thinking of options to evade and counter. He was disarmed himself, having left his arsenal back in the arena.

In a panic the smithy squealed and dodged out of the way back under the canopy of his makeshift shop, crashing over his work bench. The brute began to charge headstrong towards Link, but a young and snappy voice shouted to them from back in the alley of the challenger's pit that led to the shops and rotundas. Jun returned, or had he ever really left? Link couldn't be sure.

"Hey, don't you know it's illegal to assault fellow contestants outside the arena?" Jun hollered. "He's unarmed and you have a blade! What sort of coward strikes a defenseless man?"

What? I'm not defenseless, Link winced at his words that nibbled at his pride. It was true he didn't have his weapons, but that has never stopped him before.

The man shrugged and roared at the boy over his shoulder, still braced to charge after Link. "This don't concern you or your little pony!" he said, noticing the horse Jun had been leading by the nose. "Now run along or I might change my mind!"

Link felt a shudder of worry on Jun's behalf and didn't want him involved. The man was closer to him now than he was. Jun, just get back to the arena, I'll catch up later. Just go before you get hurt. His heart began to thump louder than his thoughts.

"Oh, yeah? Just try, I dare you. I ain't afraid of you." The boy taunted. "Besides, how are you gonna' catch me? Or haven't you noticed I have a horse. So, unless you can outrun horses, I'd suggest you back off before I tell what is going on down here to those hosting the tournament. I bet they would be very interested to see what sort of happenings are happening here."

The Dragoon mulled and chewed over the boy's words and just as he was about to make up his mind and square off against Link regardless of the consequences, heralding trumpets blared again, summoning all challengers back to the arena. The intermission ended.

Both aspiring knight and dark soldier of Draene were locked in their stances and listened for the heralding songs of gallantry and jubilee to end. When they ceased the brute decided not to face off against Link. Besides, if all went well and fortune favored him, he'd have his turn anyway. "Hmph! You're lucky," the man said, lifting the sharp and jagged visor of his helm, to bare a crooked smirk. "…For now. Because next time it's going to take a lot more than a boy and some bards tooting horns to save you. In the melee, you're mine!" he added, flinging the knife into the sand at the foot of the Smithy who returned from his shop.

"Fine by me. I'll be looking for you!" Retorted Link, undeterred. "And in the jousts!"

The man kicked the sand clung atop his boots and turned to face the smithy. "And you," he scowled, an entire conversation flowing from his cold stare to the man as he brushed past, back to the arena. "Be ready with what you promised," he finished cryptically as he sauntered off.

Jun pulled the modest horse closer to where Link watched the man trail off back to the colosseum. The mount was a tad on the smaller side as horses went but no less a pretty animal; looked to be healthy and unblemished too. A chestnut-colored mare with a white mane and tail, and strong hooves to match.

Jun smiled before making a proud declaration. "Meet—Shywind. Or was it Shystride?" Jun thumbed his chin in quick recollection, glancing to meet the gaze of the dainty horse who snorted back. "Yeah, she's definitely a Shywind."

He cleared his throat and began again. "Pardon me missy for ever doubting." Jun said, bowing modestly with a wave of his cap to the horse. Who in turn fluttered her white tail in approval. He then returned to face Link. "Well, whatever the case, she's yours now, so you can actually name her what you wish to be honest. But, fair warning, I've always been told it's awful bad luck to rename a trusty steed—"

Link cut him off to state the obvious. "—Jun isn't she, a, well—"

"—Not a pony if you're wondering. I made sure this time. She's just young is all. The stablemaster who traded Joe for her said so—"

"—Hold on a moment? Joe? Who's Joe?" Link asked curiously.

"Why, he was your mule, of course," Jun said matter-of-factly. "Though, sadly he didn't have the honor of making your acquaintance. I had to make a swap before you could've met him. Not to mention offer up some other of your useless valuables for payment. But don't you fret, were all square now. A shame because he was a good boy too."

"Jun, wait, what? What useless valuables?" Link asked, not before immediately shaking his head, dismissing the question, realizing he couldn't dwell on such things. He had more important matters to focus on right now. "Uh, never mind, it's fine. Anyways, why the mare though?"

"Well, she was all the stable master had left for offer. All the other mounts were either declared for or already sold. He assures me though that she is a loyal young lady and can be trusted. And, don't let her looks fool you, he told me. She is not only strong for her size but also smart. Smarter than most men he said in fact."

"Jun you do know how jousting works, right?"

Yeah, sorta. I think so," Jun said, rubbing the back of his head.

"You think so?" Link asked, a nervous rumble now beginning to bubble in his belly. Maybe they bit off more than they could chew.

"Yeah, it can't be too hard. You just gotta stick the pointy end of your stick into the other man before he sticks you with his. Simple."

"You make it sound so easy."

"I know, right? That's because it is easy!"

Link scratched the back of his head. "Well, you're not entirely wrong, but there's more to it than just that. There's rules and points to score. It's not just 'sticking the pointy end of your stick' before he does. Lances break and one must maintain his lance if he is to succeed on a go around. That is if the other man isn't unhorsed. It's about precision aiming too. Not to mention, there's a shield to contend with."

Link paused and took a step back to evaluate Jun alongside his new friend with a sigh. "And lastly, and most importantly, a man's horse must be swift and strong," he said, looking at Skywind with a skeptical glance. "You know, like a strong Destrier or swift Courser. Hell, even a good Charger would serve in a jousting like this one. You know, strong and swift."

Jun piped up. "Well, good news for you then, this little lady is strong, swift and smart! So what do you have to say to that?"

"Exactly my point. Little."

"Well, that's because she's a Rouncey if you must know. So there! A three for one special! Strong, swift and smart! Ain't that right, Shywind?" The horse neighed in delight at his compliment, clopping closer to have the boy soothe her mane with his fingers as a bonus.

Link spoke, interrupting their quaint bonding time. "Um, Jun, I'm not sure if you know but Rounceys don't typically excel in any one quality."

"Hmm? But the stable master said—"

"—That they can do everything. Yes, that's true, but they are more like a jack of all trades but a master of none."

"Well, she's special! She's going to prove them all wrong, just like we will!"

"I don't know Jun, I'm not sure about this," Link said, rubbing his neck in concern, debating the notion aloud.

Shywind on the other hand wasn't having the doubts and reared up on her hind legs in protest.

Cautiously, Link took a step back. Jun remarked. "Umm, Sir, I don't think she likes what you said. I think you may have hurt her feelings."

"Oh yeah, you think so? I wonder what makes you say that. I couldn't tell," Link said sarcastically, putting some more distance between him and the grumpy horse. "Look, I didn't mean to say those things that way, it's just the truth though—" The mare thrashed and pulled back again, pulling the reigns from Jun's grip and neighed, this time more agitated. "Alright, okay, I'll give you a shot. Sorry I ever doubted you," Link said, his hands up trying to calm the mare as he stepped to take over.

Link chuckled thankfully as she began to settle down with his taming touch. "Seems only fair, I suppose. I mean, they gave me a shot, so why can't you have one. I mean, to be honest, between you and me, I'm more worried if Jun's knows exactly what he's doing, than you. You seem…capable," Link said, whispering to her as he leaned closer to apologize with a head rub.

"You're darn right!" Jun declared, standing back to give them space.

"Jun, that's not what I said—"

"—C'mon, let's go before we get disqualified!" Jun said, bolting toward the arena, leaving Link and their new companion in his wake.

"Jun! Jun!" Link hollered after the boy, but it was no use. He had already darted off to no doubt enlist them in the jousting roll call and ready their position. Link sighed. "Ugh, I don't think he heard me right." He then turned to meet the horses twinkling eye staring back at him and spoke a final word on the matter. "Well, my lady, there's nothing for it but to show them what we got, right? Onward to the tournament and to Jun!" he said, leading her by the reigns. This time she perked up and snorted joyfully, eager for the coming contest. And with that they made their way to the arena.

Back on stage the Herald called for everyone to hush once more. "And now I give you all, the Archmaster yet again, Lord Revali of the Rito!"

The crowd awoke again in a cheer, forgetting the delay moments earlier but soon calmed themselves as the Herald ushered them with his hands for them to listen.

Revali's gaze flowed over the audience and met to face the Royal enclosure. "It is done. I have your tally. The contestants who will be advancing to the next round, the Jousts, will be a total of thirty-four. Join me in congratulating them all for this well-earned victory in rising to the next challenge!"

Those who lost the match were ushered off the field of sand in agitated disappointment leaving only the triumphant to remain. Some took courtly bows with a grand flourish whereas others stood proud and knightly. Link, however, was nowhere to be found, neither his squire.

Finn returned surprisingly quickly to the royal box with a brisk stride, despite the gait in his step and his armor clinking. The crowd's murmur softened as they noticed the guardsman's return, signaling that news was about to be delivered.

Clearing his throat, Finn addressed Commander Tye first, his voice carrying clearly. "Captain, you would be happy to know that the disturbance at the pavilions were a false alarm. Everything has been thoroughly checked, and there's no threat to the games or the spectators. We can proceed without delay. My apologies your grace, it took me this long to report back," the veteran said, head hung low in a bow toward the King.

King Rhoam, who had been listening earnestly, leaned forward. "Thank you, Guardsman. It prides me to know that men capable such as yourself are here to keep us and my daughter safe. Your diligence ensures that we can all enjoy these games in peace. Please extend my gratitude to all those who helped you. And now, back to the tournament!" he said, lifting his cup for all to cheer.

Zelda, who had been tense with concern, finally relaxed beside her friends, her expression brightening. "Well, that's a relief." she said, her voice tinged with genuine relief. Purah then whispered in her ear a distracting joke of some kind, because she immediately burst in a bout of giggles that she desperately tried to suppress.

During this time, Finn, the royal guardsman, took that as his moment to slip away from attention to approach Lord Arasmus. He found the lord unamused and sitting with a stern expression, waiting for his 'Sundelion' to be finished with her friends.

Finn spoke low but clear to where only he could hear. "May I have a word with you, my lord?"

Arasmus, slightly taken aback by the interruption, nodded, turning in his seat for a private discussion with him. "Yes, what's the matter?"

Finn's tone was laced with annoyance. "Look, next time you try to have me followed, send more than one of your dogs to spy on me. You're gonna need it."

The remark caught Arasmus off-guard, his face a mask of poorly disguised irritation. "I'm not sure what you mean, Guardsman," he replied coolly, attempting to maintain his composure so that the others in attendance wouldn't notice.

"He was hardly conspicuous."

Arasmus furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean? Where is he?"

"He said for me to tell you, that he won't be watching the rest of the games tonight, in fact, he might not be available for the rest of the week."

Arasmus started to interject, "If you—"

But Finn cut him off, his tone firm yet composed. "Not to fret, My Lord, he is fine. Well, if you consider waking up feeling like a Goron smashed your head with a rock as 'fine,' then yeah, he's fine. Your man will live. But next time, there won't be a next time."

"Is that a threat? I could have your—" Arasmus bristled.

"—It's a promise." Finn met his gaze unflinchingly. "I'm going to say this as respectfully as I can, my lord, keep your goons away and out of Royal Guardsman affairs, or there will be trouble."

Arasmus scoffed dismissively. "Pfft, you guardsmen think you have it all figured out."

Without another word, Finn turned and walked off coolly to stand guard beside his commander, leaving Arasmus to stew in his own thoughts as the noise of the tournament filled the background.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Zelda had become quite adept at eavesdropping. After all, she had been sitting right next to Arasmus the entire time. All the while as she was entertaining polite conversation with Purah and the other maidens, her other ear perked up to listen to what they were discussing, albeit, all it did was confuse her more. Whatever it was, if she had to bet her rupees on it, Arasmus was up to something. And she needed to get to the bottom of it.

But, before she could, Mipha spoke, concern tinting her voice. "Oh my, Princess," she said, drawing Zelda's attention.

Zelda turned to face her instead of dwelling on Arasmus. She will just have to deal with him later. "Hmm, what is it Mipha?"

"Sorry to bother, but your champion, I don't see him. He still hasn't returned. And the hour grows late. They will be starting the next contest any minute now."

Zelda responded, her voice tinged with worry, "Oh dear, you're right. I thought he'd be here by now. I wonder where he's gone to?" The princess gazed at all the contestants now forming lines and her mystery champion had not appeared yet.

Arasmus, overhearing the conversation, chimed in with a slight sneer. "Perhaps, he decided to forfeit and save himself any further chance of embarrassment."

Zelda's eyes narrowed slightly. "What embarrassment? He won the last round or didn't you notice—"

Arasmus explained, adopting a more serious demeanor, "—What I mean to say, my dear princess, is that he has so much weighing on his shoulders with this tourney. I mean, with now bearing your own banner and all for all to witness. It's no small wonder why any man would flee if given the chance. Who would dare risk failure if they were already ahead? It would be smart to get out now and remain a champion, then to continue for everyone to see the fall."

Zelda shook her head firmly, her voice filled with conviction, "No, I don't believe that. He's doing just fine. He wouldn't lose if given the opportunity. And besides, even if he did, he gave it his all and that is all that matters. There is no shame in that."

Arasmus shrugged, his tone slightly mocking, "Tell that to a man's pride, my Sweet Sundelion."

The seneschal placed his goblet of mead back on the table, casting a thoughtful glance towards the princess. "I fear my princess that your Lord Arasmus may have the right of it. A spark was lit in this lad's heart to impress you and well, he achieved that and then some I would say."

Zelda's eyes glistened and flickered with light from the candles as she listened. The Seneschal continued; his tone as flowery, yet serious as ever. "So now I ask, dear princess, why would one spoil sweet wine with sour grapes and risk vinegar when their cup already overflows with the bounty of a summer's harvest?" he said, followed with a wistful sigh.

She stewed on his words, but for only a second before deciding to ignore his usual philosophical prattling. Instead, she found support from Mipha, who added optimistically, "I for one agree with the princess. I mean, surely, there must be a reason for his absence, right? We just don't know it yet, that's all."

Zelda faced her and returned her kindness with a warm smile that could compete with a brazier nearby. Just then, Urbosa leaned forward in her seat, joyfully pointing a finger at the arena of sand. "There! I see him! He returns! And just in time too!"

Zelda awoke where she sat, eyes widened as she searched the arena below, but there were so many. "Are you sure? Where is he, I don—"

"—He's right there, Little Bird! He found himself a mount it would seem too! That's why we didn't recognize him among the rest. But make no mistake, that wolfen armor he is wearing is quite the eye catch. We just weren't looking for a young man on a horse, is all."

Zelda could have facepalmed herself but didn't. "Of course! How can I be so silly? The next venture is the jousts. Of course, he would be saddling up." She then turned to Arasmus, her eyebrow arching skeptically, hoping to hear a concession when she knew there would be none. "What was that you were saying, My Lord?"

This gentle rebuke left Arasmus momentarily at a loss, as the crowd's focus shifted back to the preparations for the next event, their spirits lifted by the unexpected turn of events. Ignoring her, he leaned to whisper a secret into the seneschal's ear as he was guzzling more mead. "Sorry to interrupt your festive spirit, but perhaps, you'd like to tell that bumbling oaf of a brother of yours that we need to get this show on the road. And that a change is in order."

"Oh?" The man's eyes lifted with intrigue, a bit of drink spilling from his chin onto his robes.

"Yes, we need to expedite things," Arasmus said, conspiratorially. "After all, the princess can no longer wait."

"So, you're really going through with your plans then?"

A light laugh escaped the side of Arasmus' lips. "Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less but the best for my 'soon to be betrothed'." And with that, the Seneschal obeyed and scooted out from his chair to make his way down to where attendants stood hand and foot awaiting orders below deck.

In the bustling atmosphere of the tournament arena, Link and Jun arrived just in time to see the other contenders preparing for the joust. The air resonated with the symphony of metal clanking and the rhythmic thudding of horses' hooves against coarse sand. More steeds were led in for the awaiting contenders to mount them. They paused, eyes wide with awe, as a small procession of gallant destriers paraded by, each adorned with trappings that shimmered in gold and silver, reflecting their esteemed lineage and the wealth of their masters.

These majestic beasts wore elaborately decorated caparisons, cascading over their flanks in rich folds, boasting the colors and emblems of the noble houses they represented. Armor plates, polished to a mirror-like sheen, encased their bodies, echoing the armored splendor of the riders they bore. Amidst these paragons of chivalry, more contenders' mounts were arrayed in simpler attire, their decorations modest but dignified.

Link's own steed, standing in stark contrast, was notably unadorned, its harness devoid of any ostentation—a humble yet proud reflection of its rider's unpretentious origins. As they absorbed the scene, Jun's gaze lingered on the splendid parade, while Link adjusted his grip on the reins, feeling an odd kinship with his plainly caparisoned mount amidst the spectacle of grandeur.

"Looks like you're all set to join the rest, Sir," Jun said jovially, watching all the others from low borne men at arms to knights of high esteem clop by. "Too bad we missed the rules. Looks like the herald just got done announcing them."

Link, already astride his humble horse, responded with a confident nod, "It's alright, I'm sure I can figure it out. Jousting's not entirely new to me. Should be like others I've seen, I suppose."

Jun grinned back, his youthful face brimming with enthusiasm. "Well, I for one am glad you have it all sorted, saves me the trouble."

Link's expression turned serious as he glanced down at his squire. "Wait a minute, Jun. You have a very important role to play."

Jun's eyes widened slightly, a mix of excitement and surprise flickering across his features. "I do?"

Link felt a knot tighten in his stomach but managed to maintain a composed demeanor.

Jun swiftly corrected. "I mean, of course I do. No problem. I got you."

Link clopped closer atop Shywind, lowering his voice despite the chaos around them. "Jun, you're going to have to be ready to heed commands, especially if I were to become unhorsed. Not to mention, fetch me fresh lances when they splinter. Understood?"

Jun's expression shifted to one of determination as he nodded vigorously. "But you won't be unhorsed, I just know it."

Link gave him a small smile, touched by his squire's faith but underscored with the gravity of reality. "Well, even still, one must always be at the ready, okay?"

Jun saluted, a mock-serious expression on his face. "Absolutely, Sir. Ready for anything!" His tone was playful yet underscored with a newfound sense of responsibility as they both turned their attention to the field, preparing for the joust to begin.

Jun's eyes suddenly flickered with excitement. "Oh, wait a minute, Sir, it looks like the herald is back and he's with that bird fellow again. They look to be arguing who's to speak first."

"Shh, I want to hear," Link said back.

Atop the stage Revali had been quarreling with the Herald about the minute details and just as they were at a fever pitch, Percy, one of the resplendent tourney attendants returned to interrupt them with a whisper into the herald's ear. The man's eyes darted around as he listened, digesting every word. "Oh, I see." He said with a bumbling laugh. "Oh, very good, very good! Very well, then, I will give the command."

The herald then pushed away from Revali and Percy and stepped lightly onto the stage to address the eager crowd once more. "May I have your attention, my Lords and Fair Ladies," he said with a flourish. "It has come to my attention that there has been a slight shift in the rules and the games."

The crowd answered back in a mix of disquieted murmurs and excitement. He quickly raised his arms for them to listen. "In the spirit of brevity and to accommodate her grace's wishes, the next two challenges will become one!"

Zelda nearly rose from her seat, "I never gave a command to—"

But the sudden sensation of a hand glided over hers and pulled her back. It was Arasmus. "All will be well, My Sundelion, you'll see. Try and enjoy the festivities," he said quietly in a sneaky tone.

The princess shuttered at his cold touch and pulled away, though careful not to disturb the others still watching. "You can't just change—"

"—Actually, I can, my dear princess. You see, I'm doing this for you. For love as you call it. And incase you wanted to protest, I already have your father's approval to go forward with this."

"But, don't I, don't I have a say—?"

"Trust me, you will get what you want, I think….And, I'll have what I want," he said, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

"That's the thing," she hissed with a whisper, "I don't trust you."

"Well, then, I suppose that is your loss. Sooner or later, you will. Now, whenever you decide to stop fighting fate and figure that out, is your own affair, but, for now, let's not startle our guests and celebrate the things to come. For they are already in motion."

Zelda's heart lept into her throat. What was he planning, why change the contests abruptly? What scheme was he devising? Surely, whatever plans he shared with my father was a half-lie at best. He would never have agreed, would he? But in the end, she decided to wait it out. What could she do anyway? Her father already went along with this man's plans.

Link leaned back on his horse, while his squire spoke beside him. "What do you suppose this means?"

"I don't know," Link replied, perplexed. "But whatever it is, seems quite bizarre to change the rules now."

The herald's voice echoed over the stadium again as people listened. "The rule changes are as follows—There will be point system made. That being said, if six points strike against you, you will be removed from the contest. And though this will be a team effort, a single victor will come out of this on top. The single challenger with the most points wins. Those on his team who follow him in points, come in second and third place—and then so on and so forth.

"To gain a point you must unhorse your opponent. The same is true in the reverse if you fall off your mount. Now, you can receive another point if you contact your weapon beyond their defenses. Sheild parries and blocks do not count. There will be many appointed judges watching the bouts. And a totality of two points will be awarded to you for every opponent that submits and forfeits on the ground to you. The last man standing with the most points on either team wins the tournament outright."

The crowd roared in approval and the herald raised his hands for a final say on the matter. His voice croaked. "There will be two teams going head-to-head. They will be divided evenly. They will start off in a direct jousting charge against one another. Multiple undivided lines will be formed. This will be a non-picketed joust, but an open one.

"So that would be seventeen contenders facing off each other in an epic bout. Once off your steed, you must remain on the field. There will be no remounts. It goes without saying, those who unfortunately become incapacitated during the fray will be rushed off the field and disqualified. Your teams will be identified by a colored sash. There will be a red team and a blue team. Attendants, give these brave souls their colors," he finished with a decree for helpers to assign sashes.

Suddenly, a man called out to Link and Jun who stood by. "You there, there has been a change to the order of jousts." It was another tourney stagehand. "I'm here to tell you that you will be competing with—that fellow over there in your lists before the melee," the man pointed in the direction of another. Link couldn't believe who it was, or actually, maybe he could. It seemed his luck always ran that way more often than not. "And here is your color, blue!"

"Look sir," Jun said while the man walked away. Everything was happening so fast, link had hardly any time to process the moment. "It's the man from the alley."

"I know," Link mumbled quietly to himself.

The brute caught a glimpse of them staring and hollered at them. "Don't you know it's rude to point at people, kid?" he said, looking down on Jun like bug that needed squashing.

"Don't you know its rude to smile so ugly?" Jun retorted. The man grimaced but instead decided to relish in a laugh at Link's steed.

"Don't tell me you'll be riding that? You don't stand a chance!" he and his two men serving him swelled into laughter mocking Link's humble mount. It was true, her adornments were less than desired. In fact, it could hardly even be called armor if one were honest. Her gear was nearly all made of leather, but it was all he could afford, even with Jun's help.

Link ignored their taunts in stark contrast to Jun who looked like he was about to pounce and stab their faces with that sheathed blade he carried. Link shook his head, "They're not worth it."

"But, Sir? They said—"

"I don't care, it's fine. Let's get ready."

"But, Sir!" Jun insisted.

"I said it's alright, jun. I'll let my lance do the talking," he said while the lad listened. The squire soon realized he was right with a nod. "You just be ready to help out when I call you onto the field."

The boy nodded again, this time wearing an eager smile.

As Link and Jun prepared to depart from the clamorous scene, a sudden confrontation halted their steps. The same attendant who had earlier assisted Link was now vehemently arguing with a burly dragoon. Link's ears perked up as the attendant's voice carried over the din.

"Hylia heavens, no, you can't use a coronel like that for this!" the attendant exclaimed, his voice laced with urgency. "You need a tourney lance!" He gestured emphatically to a nearby helper, beckoning for the correct equipment. "This is a tournament, not a war, after all. You'd kill someone with something like that," he continued, his tone firm and insistent as he returned to address the towering dragoon.

The dragoon muttered a gruff protest, his annoyance palpable even from a distance. Undeterred, the attendant pressed on, determined to prevent any tragic accidents. "Here, let me have one of my own men swap it with your squires, so there can be no mistakes," he insisted, orchestrating the exchange of the lethal bronze-tipped lance for a safer, traditional tourney lance, longer and made of wood.

"No maiming's today, not on my watch. And certainly not something that Her Young Royal Majesty should ever have to witness," he concluded, his voice a mix of command and concern as he handed the safer lance to the dragoon.

Around them, the murmurs of other men swelled into a buzzing hubbub, drowning out the latter part of the conversation. Link glanced over the scene once more, noting the heightened tensions but decided it was best to continue with their own preparations, leaving the attendant to manage the situation.

As the attendant turned to leave, the dragoon's voice halted him in his tracks. "Hold it just a minute," he demanded, lifting his visor to reveal a smirk tainted by yellow-stained teeth that spread across his scruffy face.

The attendant paused and faced him, apprehension flickering in his eyes. "As for my weapons, they will remain untouched, I hope?" the dragoon probed, his tone thick with barely concealed threat.

The attendant took a moment to survey the two mean figures standing beside the mounted dragoon. Initially mistaking them for squires, he now saw the truth in their stature and the military precision with which they held their Sir's weapons—a sword, shield, and mace, each glinting with a reddish gold sheen indicative of the proper bronze alloy. Satisfied, he nodded in assent. "Everything looks to be in order. They can remain. And you can retrieve your property after the match. Good luck to you, sir. I bid thee farewell," he said, making a hasty retreat.

As the attendant departed, one of the dragoon's men-at-arms leaned in, confusion lining his face. "What are we going to do? The plan was—"

The dragoon cut him off, his confidence unshaken. "It's fine, I don't need my lance so long as I have my other trusted weapons. I have it under control. We'll just have to make do with what we got. Besides, plans are already in motion. I've been assured that I'll be run up against that kid in the bout. So, we have that in our favor. Once it begins, I'll make him rue the day he ever thought to give a smug smile," he plotted with a sinister tone.

"Yeah, that is, if he survives," another man-at-arms chimed in, chuckling darkly as he helped the dragoon saddle up.

"Right. Now let's be off," the dragoon commanded, steering his horse away to rejoin the fray, his mind set on the confrontation ahead.

The grand Herald, with a flourish of his arm, reinvigorated the crowd's fervor. "I present to you, your noble challengers!" he proclaimed, gesturing grandly across the arena where two lines of knights on horseback faced each other in readiness. Among them stood Link, his figure poised and determined, while his faithful squire Jun mingled on the sidelines, his cheers merging with those of others, each rallying their champions with spirited shouts.

"At the sound of the bell, advance and engage as if upon the field of battle! Make our princess proud and may the goddess's blessings be upon you all!" the Herald continued, his voice booming across the field.

As the last echo of his words faded, a rocket burst into the sky, splitting the clouded dusk with red and yellow fire. Its explosive ascent was the signal for the bellman, who rang his bell with a resonant clang that swept over the crowd like a wave.

"Let the finale begin!" the Herald called out, unleashing the thunderous applause of the spectators.

Link leaned close to whisper into Shywind's ear as they prepared to charge. "Fly, Shy, I believe in you!" He imbued his steed with confidence, and together they surged forward, their advance a blend of might and grace against the uproar of the crowd.

Zelda and Jun watched with bated breath from their respective vantage points. Zelda, her hands clenched tightly on the royal balcony's balustrade, could barely stand to watch the inevitable clash. The ground thundered under the hooves of charging steeds, the air filled with shouts of combat and the fierce cries of battle. The crowd's cheers crescendoed around her, drowning in the sound of her own heartbeat drumming in her ears.

Any moment now, Link's lance would collide against his formidable opponent and her heart would either sing or cry. But, despite the odds in favor of the brute, who rode a destrier with fine bardings worthy of royalty, Link and his trusty Shywind had hope and undying courage on their side.

The royal enclosure resounded with Jun's encouraging shout, "You got him, Sir!" bolstering Link's resolve amidst the tumult of the joust. In the stands, Zelda, flanked by her companions, stood, her hands clenched in anxious anticipation, her voice merging with others in a chorus of support. Arasmus on the other hand enjoyed the spectacle from a different point of view.

Link sucked in a breath, his focus narrowing as he and his adversary charged toward each other. Through his helmet's visor, the only thing visible was the raw animosity etched on his foe's face—a face not just of an opponent, but of an enemy. The rain hammered relentlessly in the rushing wind, the droplets pelting his armor and blurring his vision, adding a ghostly haze to the already frenetic battlefield. Yet, guided by a code of honor, Link targeted the man's chest, aiming beyond the shield with the precision taught by his mentors.

However, his opponent, a Dragoon who learned from another teacher, one of cunning rather than honor, shifted his spear unexpectedly. The arena erupted into chaos; the clash of steel, wood and the thunder of hooves filled the air as combatants collided in a maelstrom of mud and fury. Screams of the fallen and the shattering of lances against armor echoed through the stormy evening, mirroring the turmoil in the stands.

In a heart-stopping moment, as Link's lance struck true, piercing his opponent's defenses, the Dragoon's own weapon veered off to its intended target. With a vicious twist, the spear found its mark not on the shield or chest, but directly at Link's helm. The impact was a devastating death blow. Shywind, sensing her rider's peril, turned in panic as Link was hurled like a doll from his saddle, his body crashing into the wet sand with a sickening thud.

A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Zelda's hollow cry pierced the air, swallowed up and dampened by the excited roar of the crowd, her tears catching the light as her close companions rushed to calm her. Down on the field, Jun's expression morphed from shock and disbelief to determination. Without regard for his own safety, he was about to dash across the field, in an effort to dodge disoriented horses and dazed warriors to reach his fallen Sir and come to his aid. But before he could step a single foot forward, a stranger pulled him back. It was Athelon.

Everything for Link went dark.

AUTHORS NOTE: Sorry it took so long. Next one will be out sooner, I hope. Also, I think I may be writing too much for each scene. I will try and condense my outline I had written so the pacing can pick up and move faster to the next plot. Or if you like things the way they are with all the character interactions and dialogue, let me know. I want to craft the best story I can. Thanks again for reading and let me know your thoughts.

Chapter Text

Why we failed Pt. 13

A Symphony of Swords

As the sun dipped low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the family farm in Castle Town, Link and his father shared a moment of quiet reflection. They stood amidst the fields, their day's labor behind them, surrounded by the tranquil sounds of dusk. Link's father, a man of both the soil and the sword, being a leader among the royal guard and a farmer, bore the weight of his dual responsibilities with a stoic grace.

Link, at the cusp of his childhood years, brimmed with questions and a restless energy that seemed to stem from the very core of his being. His father, tall and weathered from a life of service and toil, turned to him with a look of understanding and patience.

"I don't understand, why do we have to live here? Why can't we just sell Uncle's farm and be done with it? It's not like we'll ever be able to repay the debt anyway. Why not sell it for what it's worth and go home?" A young Link asked, just shy of ten years old. "They'll never find us back at the Domain."

"Son, things aren't that easy, and this is your home," his father said, helping him load the last bushels of apples onto the cart. It had been a meager harvest that afternoon but nevertheless what was salvaged were going to be sold in the square the following morning.

Link's uncle passed away abruptly from a sickness that year which swept through the city. So, he and his family came back to square away family debts left by his uncle. Believed to have come from the far east, the illness that swept across the land for some strange reason only affected some of the denizens. Infact, many in castle town survived the disease with little consequence at all whereas others tragically died soon after contraction. The mystery sickness vanished just as soon as it came too. The Pale Mist is what people called it. Due to the disparity of those affected, superstitions ran wild about the victims and their families. Many believed that if the Pale Mist made you fatally sick, then it was brought on by your own doing. That it must have been a divine punishment for some hidden sin or crime done by either you or your household.

Link's father knew better though. He said that the mist that brought the illness came from a deadly draft of wind that swept over the mountains guarding The Forbidden Waste. His uncle traded goods at a nearby town near those tall peaks and that is how he caught the disease. Many travelling merchants brought it to Castle Town that year from their treks to that same very town. 'So you see', he said, 'nothing supernatural about it'.

Link groaned, cinching the cart to the family donkey's harness so she could pull the harvest into the barn to wait until morning. "Maybe this is your home, but it's not mine. How could this place ever be?"

Link's father Tye sighed and shook his head. "I take it the other lads are still giving you trouble, eh?"

Link ignored his question; he wasn't one to look for sympathy and continued fussing about his chores while they closed up for the day.

Tye spoke again. "But what about Sven? Surely, you like seeing him again after all these years and what about your other friend, what's his name again?" Link's father hassled with trying to remember the boy who was Link's age with a couple snaps of his fingers to recollect when an annoyed Link responded.

"Orin, his name is Orin."

"That's the lad, now I remember. I thought you three get along well enough?"

"We do, but it's not that. It's just, if only I were allowed to show those other jerks, even just a little, then they wouldn't think they were so tough. Well—" Link shrugged. "—Not so much that they pick on me, at least not to my face but it's more to get under my skin by having a pick on Sven. He can't help himself like Orin and I. We aren't around all the time to watch after him."

"Well, I'm sorry the others are picking on poor Sven but it's not your place to be righting wrongs every time you step off the porch. Sooner or later, that boy is going to have to learn to stand up and fend for himself. Especially, if he has dreams of being a Guardsman," Tye insisted, stepping closer to Link as they both leaned on the fence, gazing far into the fields and to the closing shops of town off in the distance. Their colorful tiled roofs bathed by the majestic glow of the dying sunset peeking through the incoming clouds of the night.

"So, I'm just supposed to stand there and watch them bully my best friend?" Link questioned, turning his back to the wonderful scenery.

"No, I'm not saying to watch, just, be cautious. Son, we have to be careful here. In this place. I may be soon chief captain of the guard but we're not so liked as you may think. Even us guardsman have enemies masquerading as friends here. And we've been gone many years from this place and things have changed since the Queen's passing, goddess rest her soul," he said, making a genuine praying gesture to the calm sky.

"Then, let us leave and take Sven with us. I'm sure his Ma won't mind, even for just a little while. I mean, you can train us both too and if I'm not allowed to show what I can do here, what's the point of—"

"—Let me finish son, I wasn't done. Your mother and I had to come back to the capital. It's more complicated than just your uncle's passing. You'll be fine in due time. The others don't know you is all. And people fear what they don't know or understand."

"How can they know me, if I can't show them? Father, you're talking in circles. Why do I have to hide who I am and the things I can do?" Link's father hesitated to answer as the upset boy continued his appeal.

"Why can't I protect my friends from those who would harm or poke fun at their expense? It happens nearly every time we walk by the training yard where the soldiers practice. We only just want to watch. We don't mean any harm, and yet, they show up to stir up trouble. They just have to open their big mouths all the time and I have to stand there quiet and take it," Link said, turning and squeezing a fist, careful to hide his frustration from his father. He whispered to himself. "If I was only allowed, maybe then they'd think twice before messing with us," he said before whirling back around to face his father's discernment.

Link sighed and relented. This time he spoke up more contritely, his anger fading away into bewilderment. "Why would the goddess give me these, these—" Link's voice trailed off, trying to find the right words to say before his father intervened.

"—Powers?" Tye's mustached smile bent into a worried frown.

"I'm not even sure. But, why gift me with these talents if she never intended me to use them?" Link's voice was tinged with frustration and curiosity. "Orin is right, it's not fair. He's the only one who has seen some of things I can do. He says I can beat them all if only just let go."

His father, gently laying a hand on Link's shoulder, replied with a wisdom born of years. "No, son. Orin is also young, and he just wants what's best for you. We all do. One day you'll understand."

Link, his eyes reflecting the fiery hues of the setting sun, pressed on. "I want to understand now. Why must I hide who I really am? Why can't I show them? I mean, I can outrun every single one of them if I wanted to! With breath to spare too. I mean every time, Pa. Even with a ten-count head start. It don't matter. I can jump further, swordplay better, and even lift and toss heavy boulders nearly my size! I know well enough to know that even grown men can't even do that. Why should I be the one who must cower and let them win? I bet if they saw what I could really do, they wouldn't be laughing then."

His father sighed, a mix of pride and concern etched on his face. "One day you'll understand, son. I promise…But today isn't that day."

"When will be the day?" Link's voice held a note of impatience.

"Your mother and I," his father started, before carefully choosing his words. "We don't know why you were blessed with these gifts. But what we do know is that it was for a reason…" his father let out another longwinded sigh as if he was trying to reach for some fountain of wisdom.

"Now, I don't know the reason, but your mother and I believe that you were given these blessings for a purpose. The other boys are just being foolish and were raised to be that way. It's not their fault they are the way they are. They see us common folks as different and that we shouldn't be allowed to join their ranks. They are high born lads with high born affections. They don't like us amounting to the things they can achieve and want us to remain in our place. Anything else fills them with blind envy. So, all you would do by showing your talents would just inflame them more."

Displeased by his answer, Link pulled away as his father continued to give his speech. Though he didn't want to hear what he had to say, he listened.

"Please son, understand, now isn't the time. One day, you'll know your purpose and it will hit you, and then it'll be left to you to fulfill it, whatever it may be." His father smiled. "And I know it isn't to make fools of the other lads when they challenge you or the others."

"Then what is it, then? Why must I wait? What harm would it do just to show just a little? I promise I won't make a mockery of it. I just want them to leave me and my friends alone."

His father looked out across the fields, his gaze distant. "Because, son, strength…Now, I'm talking like the strength you have within you…that sort of power frightens men. Men fear what they can't understand or control. Haven't I just told you that? Perhaps, when you're older, you'll understand."

Link's expression was a mix of frustration and yearning. "I want to understand now. Help me to."

The elder man turned to face his son, his eyes filled with a mix of love and solemnity. "When you're a man grown, come back to me. After you've seen more of the world and learned of its ways, then we will talk again about your place in it. I promise."

As the conversation faded with the daylight, Link stood beside his father, the weight of his unspoken heritage heavy upon his young shoulders. The mystery of his destiny remained, for now, just out of reach, a puzzle to be unraveled in the fullness of time.

Shivering cold as he laid soaking wet; each tremor a sharp contrast to the distant clamor of battle and the raucous jubilation of the spectators. Pain hammered in his head with every beat of his heart, each pulse radiating through his aching body, pinning him to the ground. The temptation to succumb, to become a lifeless statue on the cold, unforgiving earth, was almost irresistible. As he struggled to pry his eyes open, his vision blurred, and the fervent pleas of his squire, Jun, calling him to rise seemed so close, yet miles away.

"Sir, get up! Please, you must get up! He's circling back around!" Jun, frantic and desperate, was poised to leap over the fence when a firm hand yanked him back. Anger flashed across his face as he turned to confront his restrainer. "What are you doing!? Let me go! I have to help him! If I don't hurry, he'll be trampled!"

"Calm yourself, boy!" the man's voice boomed with authority. "It's only been a moment. Let us observe a while longer."

"Observe what? For him to be crushed? He could die! I must go to him; it's my duty! I have to fetch him out of there." Jun protested, his voice thick with urgency.

"Silence!" the command cut through the air, stopping Jun in his tracks.

Jun's shoulders slumped, his resolve flickering. "I don't know who you are or what you want, but he's my friend."

"I understand, lad, but charging into the melee could hinder his concentration if he were to awake this instant. You'll only get in the way. Let us wait a minute and see what he can muster," the man replied, his tone softer, revealing a hint of strategic foresight.

From the sidelines, Athelon watched, his thoughts racing. Come on, get up... if you are who I believe you are, you can overcome this. I know you can.

Link's willpower ebbed as he lay there, wrestling with consciousness. The world seemed to dim once more, his form sinking into the sand, succumbing to the overwhelming darkness as his surroundings slipped away again.

As consciousness ebbed, a new memory gently unfolded before Link, bringing with it the familiar voice of his father. This time, however, the voice carried the weight of years laden with wisdom beyond those distant farm days. Link stood at the threshold of his father's tent, the fabric fluttering slightly in the breeze—a moment frozen just before the tournament.

"Son, if you're dead set on proving yourself and earning your own way—despite not needing to join the preliminaries—let me offer you a piece of advice," his father's voice held a gravitas born of care and concern.

Link paused, turning to face the man who was both his commander and his protector, the silhouette of his father outlined against the soft glow from within the tent as he sat at his desk.

"Do you remember, son, what I told you when we first came to live here?" his father asked, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips as he placed his quill aside.

A flicker of memory teased at the edges of Link's mind, elusive and fragmented. He had buried those words deep, at his father's behest, and they felt as distant as another lifetime.

His father's expression softened, his eyes lighting up with a rare gleam of joy as he continued, "You asked me for 'when?' And now, I tell you, your wait is over. The time has come. The only way forward now, if your heart is truly intent on winning her honor, is by glory then."

Link's brow furrowed slightly in confusion, his voice barely a whisper, "Hmm?"

"Show them, son. Now is the time to reveal who you really are, to let what's been hidden inside you emerge. You're a man grown finally, and you asked for the right time, and now I'm telling you, today is the day. This is your moment. Show them all and win for me," his father urged, his voice imbued with a conviction that resonated deep within Link, kindling a fire in his heart. "Win for her!"

Link absorbed his father's words, a nod of solemn understanding passing between them as the candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows that seemed to echo his father's sentiments. Emboldened by the belief seen in his father's eyes, he stepped back under the tent flap, his resolve fortified.

"Now go, son! I believe in you. Win, win, win!" his father called after him, his voice a bolstering force that pushed him forward into the destiny awaiting at the tournament.

Zelda's heart plummeted to her belly as she clutched the railing of the royal balcony, her eyes glued on the jousting grounds where Helmsworth took the fall. The shock mirrored on the faces of her companions did little to soothe her dread. Meanwhile, the herald's voice echoed passionately across the arena, narrating the fierce melee with a lack of sympathy for the combatants or the princess' feelings.

"And there goes eight blue and four red sashes right out of the gates!" Bellowed the Herald, a delight of showmanship glimmering in his eyes. The roars of the crowd soared and dropped with every lance shatter and with every clash of bronze. "We still have six remaining on horseback, my Lords and Fair Ladies. How will the fallen ever recover!?" Turning to face the direction where Link fell, the Herald narrated again, noticing that his condition was worst than any other on the field. Whereas some fell, though rattled, they soon recovered quickly due to their shields bearing the brunt of the impact and not their faces.

In a mockingly concerned tone, he continued. "Oh, my, it appears one man may be down for the count already! How long must we be subjected to endure this dreadful scene?" He questioned the crowd rhetorically with a grin. "When will the judges call his fate and take to the field to save him from any more pain?"

The audience watched, many filled with horror while others were met with glee at the sight of the downfall of the princess' hero.

"Oh, my, if he were my champion, I wouldn't bear to watch another second longer! The horror! Poor brave warrior, if someone doesn't fetch him out of the fray and soon, this may spell his doom!"

Her uncle, noting the distress etched across Zelda's face, extended a comforting hand, only for her to instinctively flinch away. The momentary recoil was not out of disdain but a reflex born of a tense state. She quickly recognized his intent was only to comfort and not intrude like Arasmus might. Quickly realizing her unintended reaction, Zelda sought to amend the breach. She gently accepted his gliding hand, allowing it to rest reassuringly on her shoulder. Together, enveloped in a heavy silence, they continued to watch the tumult below, hearts heavy with the drama of the unfolding scene.

Taking the situation to heart, Mipha's voice trembled with concern, echoing the anxiety rippling through the onlookers. "Why aren't the tourney masters intervening? He's down there, vulnerable—could they not see he might be trampled any moment?" she implored, scanning the faces around her for some sign of action on the field.

Zelda's uncle, his brow furrowed in distress, chimed in with a heavy tone. "Indeed, it's unsettling how they delay. They've swiftly attended to others for far less, yet he lies unmoving. This isn't just oversight; it's negligence. If they don't act swiftly, he's at risk of serious harm amidst the melee."

Zelda, absorbing the gravity of their words, pivoted from the balcony's edge, to search for the culprit of this injustice. "Unless," she murmured, a chilling suspicion in her voice audible only to him, "this is by someone's design."

Arasmus met her accusatory stare with a serene, almost taunting look, his eyes reflecting the brazier's fire—a silent testament to his indifference.

"You're cruel." Zelda hissed, the disgust palpable in her whispered rebuke. "How could you? You have no honor."

Unruffled, Arasmus responded with icy precision, "I orchestrate no such cruelty."

"Then the sudden change in rules?" Zelda pressed, seeking a crack in his composed exterior.

Arasmus shook his head dismissively. "You search for shadows where there are none. The field is chaos, Princess, nothing more." His voice lightened into a chuckle. "But worry not, your champion will be attended to when it's deemed safe."

For your sake, I hope so; she wanted to say, yet, she couldn't find the courage to speak. Instead she bit back the harsh words teetering on her lips, choosing instead to pierce him with a silent, seething stare. Her trust in his assurances had evaporated, yet she held her tongue.

Suddenly, Mipha's shout sliced through the mounting tension, her finger pointing excitedly towards the field. "Princess, look! Your champion—he's getting up!"

Zelda whipped around, her heart hitching as she peered into the arena. There, against all odds, Helmsworth showed signs of stirring, his resolve not yet extinguished. A wave of relief washed over her, mingled with apprehension. She clung to the rail, her eyes wide, her spirit riding the thin line between hope and despair, as the figure in the mud began to rise.

Age old memories of Link's father's words of encouragement rang in his head like a bell. Or was it devastating blow from the lance? Whatever it was, he had to get up, and now. So, he summoned all his might to awake from his stupor, albeit shaken. Dazed and head pounding, Link came to and found himself knee high in the mud from the blow that shattered his senses. A throbbing, wet, chillness slicked down the side of his head matting his hair in a cold, wet snarl; the shocking realization that it wasn't sweat nor rain filled him with sudden dread. He could also taste the tangent, sickly iron taste of blood on his lips.

Miraculously, though, after feeling around with his fingers, the wound which pained him was less grave than he feared. He's taken harder beatings before. Thankfully, his helm, though dented, withstood the brunt of the impact; a marvel of Castle-Forged steel shining dimly as a testament to its resilient craftsmanship. There he desperately tried to climb back up to his feet. His muscles protested but guided by the rallying voice of his squire; whose words finally reached him, he managed to arise. "Get up sir, get up, he's coming back around! You can do it! That's it! You can get him! I know you can, you just gotta focus! He's right there!"

The clamor from the stands swelled, a discordant symphony of cheers and boos that filled the arena, punctuating the frenetic chaos of battle around him. Other competitors clashed ferociously nearby, but Link's senses sharpened at the thunderous pummeling of hooves on earth when his adversary's steed reared, snorted, and circled for another charge.

Through the flickers of torchlight encircling the arena, the rider discarded a splintered lance for the cold gleam of a drawn sword. "So, you have a bit of fight left in you after all, eh? No matter, you're mine!" !" the rider declared, a savage thrill evident in his voice, his eyes alight with a cruel lust for conquest visible even as he slammed his visor shut.

And in the daze of confusion, the monstrous black beast which he strode upon appeared to Link in that instant to be breathing plumes of fire from its nostrils in the downpour unlike any stallion, but a dragon. Its rider the devil demise himself. This is it, Link thought.

Casting aside his shield, the mud swallowing it with a splat, Link drew his bastard sword and gripped it tight with both hands; the blade singing as it left the scabbard. Years of training took over and he instinctively formed a high hylian guard stance, muscles tensing, to await the doom barreling toward him.

The rain began to pour and the ricochet of dancing drops from the ground stung under his chin in the wind as he braced for the final impact.

Link knew what must be done, but thinking and doing were two different things. Before he could flinch away from the fear that dared to overtake him, his resolve solidified in that critical moment. The world seemed to slow around him as he tapped into a primal surge of energy that burned like a fire from within, a ferocity born of desperation and the fierce need to prevail. The thunderous gallop of his opponent's steed focused his mind sharply, sharpening his senses to a razor's edge. He relinquished all hold on conscious thought, allowing instinct and years of rigorous training to take the helm.

From the roars of the crowd to the pleas of his squire and the ever-expectant gaze of the princess, the entire tournament went silent and still around him. The only things left were him and his foe.

In an instinctive reflex, he dodged the incoming slash, clipping only the tip of his bronzed blade against his foe's as he rolled underneath the slash onto the sand. And in a flash of speed akin to a viper's strike, he unleashed a brilliant counter before his enemy could get away, pelting the backside of his armor. Bronze bit into steel but only enough to launch his enemy off his saddle to tumble onto the sand.

From the stands, Zelda and her companions gasped in awe, the tension breaking into a mixture of shock and elation. Jun's voice cut through the stunned silence, his cheers piercing the tumult, "You did it, Sir! That's the way to show him! Now get him!"

The fallen dragoon cursed, his efforts to rise hampered by the slick, muddied ground. His once immaculate black armor was now smeared with the arena's grime, a stark testament to his fall from grace. As he scrambled for footing, his steed, spooked and unrestrained, galloped off, leaving him stranded and vulnerable.

Link, standing a mere twenty paces away, watched his foe struggle. His sword still in hand, gleamed under the arena's flickering torches, ready to engage once more. The crowd's roars swelled anew, a chorus of anticipation for the next move in this unexpected turn of the joust.

Link barked an order to his squire who had been standing on the sidelines. "Grab Shywind and bring her safely back to the stablemaster. She's no longer of use here! And fetch me my poleaxe on you return! Quickly!" His horse, Shywind, had been evading other combatants in a frightened dash across the sand, adding to the turmoil.

The arena had turned into a wild stampede, with horses darting unpredictively among the melee fighters. Combatants were forced to dodge not only the lethal swings of weapons but also the heavy, panicked strides of wayward steeds.

Realizing the limitations of his current armament, Link's thoughts turned sharply to his need for more suitable weaponry. His bastard sword was agile but lacked the reach and heft needed to contend with the Dragoon's formidable greatsword, which loomed dangerously large by comparison. His shield, which could level the odds, lay frustratingly beyond his grasp, positioned perilously behind his towering adversary.

As another peal of thunder roared, accentuated by a brilliant flash of lightning, the anxious crowd watched, captivated by the dwindling number of combatants. Only a handful of warriors remained engaged in fierce combat, each pair locked in their own deadly dance mere yards from Link.

Amidst the chaos, a warrior adorned with a blue sash, recognizing Link's peril, charged towards the Dragoon from behind, aiming to turn the tide. However, his valiant effort was abruptly cut short as the Dragoon, with brutal efficiency, parried the sword strike and countered with a punishing blow, swiftly neutralizing the would-be rescuer.

Link watched at a loss for words, as the dragoon effortlessly sidestepped an attack and delivered a crushing blow with his gauntleted fist to his ally's face, instantly robbing him of his senses. Such brutal ferocity was unparalleled on the tournament field, displaying a savagery that chilled Link to his bones.

As the beaten warrior lay dazed in the mud, his helm grotesquely deformed, he groped for his sword in a desperate bid to defend himself. But the dragoon, reveling in his dominance, kicked the blade away with a dismissive flick of his boot. Raising his visor to reveal a sinister grin, the dragoon then turned to the crowd, his arms raised in a grotesque bid for their acclaim before turning back to deliver a relentless series of kicks to the fallen man's head. Each sickening thud echoed through the arena, his helm bending under the force, threatening to cave in entirely.

Many cheers quickly morphed into stunned outcry as they witnessed the merciless beating unfold. The spectacle of violence far exceeded the bounds of honorable combat, leaving spectators in shock at the brutal display.

In the echoing commotion of the arena, the herald's voice, tinged with theatrical dismay, rang out, "Oh, will somebody do something to save this poor chap from his fate? Certainly, this must be against the rules! Somebody, anybody?" Yet, no judge stepped forward; the officials remained disturbingly silent, leaving the fallen competitor to his grim fate.

Gripping the railing tightly, Zelda echoed the herald's sentiment, her voice trembling with emotion and resolve, "He's right, if nobody will put an end to this madness, then I must."

Her uncle, attempting to calm her, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "No, sweet niece, you mustn't interfere, please. I know it may be upsetting, but technically no rules have been broken as of yet. The man in question has yet to forfeit."

"How can he? He's being throttled!" Zelda protested, her gaze fixed on the brutal scene unfolding below.

Her uncle tried to offer a rationale, albeit weakly, "It may appear that way, but the man's pride clearly is not allowing him to surrender. Look, he keeps trying to roll away from the other's strikes. He is still in the match."

Zelda interrupted, incredulous and frustrated, "How can you possibly stand by and—"

Her uncle sighed, his tone one of reluctant acceptance, "–It's not that I enjoy watching these things happen, of course not. Of course, I would rather a cleaner fight, but it's that—my dear, sweet Zelda, please understand, this is how tournaments are held. It may seem harsh, and downright brutal at times but that is the way things are done. They've always been that way spanning back to the age of heroes."

Zelda, undeterred and firm in her conviction, responded sharply, "It's barbaric," and turned back to the battle, her disapproval palpable as she pulled her hand away and crossed her arms defiantly. "Perhaps it's high time things change. There's no need for such violence. I always believed this was to be a contest of valor and chivalry, not mayhem and bloodlust." Her words hung heavily in the air, a stark challenge to the accepted norms of the tournament.

Her uncle fell silent, powerless to retort and thought better of it to give her some space to sort her emotions on the matter. she was about to vocalize more of her displeasure when her gaze snapped back to the arena. One figure below commanded her attention—someone whose brutality had been glaringly apparent throughout the melee.

"Wait a minute, a dragoon," she paused, her mind racing with new realizations. She turned abruptly to Arasmus, accusation sharp in her tone, "He's one of your men, isn't he? But what is one of your men doing in a tournament like this?" The pieces started to fall into place, her voice rising slightly with the weight of her suspicions. "You knew about this, didn't you? You're involved in this, aren't you?"

Arasmus' response was a slight, knowing smile. He strolled leisurely to her side, leaning over the balcony to get a better view of the chaos unfolding below. "Hmm," he mused, his gaze fixed on the violent exchanges of the fighters. "What keen observation, my Sundelion."

His nonchalant demeanor only fueled her frustration. "Is he your man or not?" she demanded, her patience fraying at the edges.

"Why, does his presence in the tournament unsettle you?" Arasmus replied, his voice calm and probing, uncharacteristically straightforward in his response, neither confirming nor denying her accusation directly.

Zelda blinked, taken aback by his directness. He was not cloaking his words in riddles or evasive replies as was his usual manner. Instead, he seemed almost eager to acknowledge his involvement, adding a complex layer to their conversation that Zelda wasn't prepared for.

Arasmus asked again while she stood beside him mouth agape. "Should I have him brought here to answer for his inhumane lack of judgment on the field? After all, I will make sure he is thoroughly disciplined for such an ill display of chivalry. I don't tolerate such behavior among my ranks.

As Arasmus spoke, Zelda stood beside him, her expression one of shock, unable to articulate the tumult of emotions swirling within her. He noted her silence and, seizing the opportunity, took decisive action. With an authoritative snap of his fingers, he beckoned another Dragoon, who had been standing watch nearby. The soldier approached briskly and knelt beside them, an air of readiness about him as he awaited orders.

Arasmus issued his command with an edge sharp enough to cut through the thick tension, "You, ensure that once this man exits the tournament, he is accorded a proper send-off—fit for his conduct."

The kneeling soldier raised his head slightly, his expression a mask of confusion mingling with disbelief at the orders being issued. Zelda, catching the soldier's gaze, sensed his shock mirroring her own. The reality of the situation unfolded before her like a surreal play, each moment stretching longer than the last, embedding itself deep within her conscience.

Unperturbed, Arasmus decreed the fate of the unruly Dragoon with the casual ease of ordering a meal at table, his voice carrying a cold, calculated detachment. "See to it that his punishment serves as a stark warning to all. Anyone who dares disrupt or displease the princess shall receive their…" He paused, a sly and twisted glimmer of amusement shone in his face before he finished, "their just reward."

Zelda, overwhelmed by the severity of his words, remained silent, her thoughts a whirlwind of disbelief and apprehension as she absorbed the harsh reality of Arasmus's rule.

That being said, she understood the implications of Arasmus's intentions, and it churned her stomach with disgust. The man was going to be punished merely for carrying out what might very well have been his lord's covert commands. The cold-heartedness of it all baffled her. Could this all be a performance for her benefit? She struggled with the thought, yet felt compelled to intervene, to halt the cruel spectacle unfolding before her eyes.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Zelda's voice broke through her hesitation, her words trembling as the fine hairs on her neck stood on end, "No, you don't have to do this. Please, there's no need. I'm alright," she pleaded, her voice a blend of desperation and command.

Arasmus interrupted her with a patronizing look, his tone dripping with feigned affection, "Anything to please my soon-to-be betrothed."

The look of satisfaction he gave made her skin crawl. The fop was actually enjoying himself, she realized. And what's more, she couldn't tell if the excitement glistening in his cold eyes were due to the pleasure of having her squirm like a wriggling fish in helpless dismay; or the genuine delight he had being cruel to his subordinates as a show of power.

The idea that she ever could've thought him handsome or attractive once upon a time gave her the sudden urge to bathe and cleanse herself of his presence. But even with that she knew that no matter how much she scrubbed, the perfumed stain of his kiss burned on her cheek earlier would remain.

Back on the field, Link was poised to intervene and save the beleaguered man, but his path was abruptly blocked by an opponent clad in a red sash. The challenger lunged, his longsword slicing the air, narrowly missing Link. Caught off guard, distracted by the dragoon's plight, Link momentarily lost focus, forgetting he was now embroiled in a melee—a chaotic free-for-all.

Relief quickly replaced worry as Link sized up his new adversary. The man was clearly older, likely in his late twenties, and bore the unmistakable air of nobility—a man who had practiced solely against complacent yes-men, never truly tested in battle. His skills, or lack thereof, were as evident as the ornamental nature of his armor. Adorned with ceremonial trappings rather than practical protection, his gear was more a hindrance than a help, ill-suited for real combat.

Link exploited his opponent's lack of experience and the cumbersome armor to his advantage. With agile maneuvers, he dodged each of the noble's overwrought and ponderous strikes, steadily wearing him down. The fight was uneven from the start, with Link's seasoned prowess starkly contrasting the noble's ceremonial training.

In the throes of the melee, the noble adversary, drained of stamina and breath, finally faltered under the relentless assault. Seizing the moment, Link executed a masterful counterattack. With a deft twist of his wrist and a sharp flick, he struck his opponent's blade, sending it spinning upward out of his failing grasp. The sword arced through the air, its metallic wail cutting through the tumult, before it landed far out of reach in the sand.

Link then directed the point of his own sword toward the vanquished noble's chest, his voice muffled by the din of the arena, "Do you yield?" A tense silence enveloped them, punctuated only by the heavy breaths of the defeated man who reluctantly lifted his eyes to meet Link's steady gaze. Conceding defeat, the noble, his elegant cloak now marred by the mud, nodded and gasped out, "I... I yield."

With the dignity of the moment at hand, Link sheathed his sword and extended a helping hand to his adversary, aiding him to rise from the mire with a gesture of true knightly grace.

However, the chivalric scene was abruptly shattered by a brutal act nearby. The crowd gasped as the dragoon, having just dispatched another challenger with a vicious finality, turned the fallen combatant over with his boot. The defeated man lay sprawled and motionless in the sand. Leaning over his prey, the dragoon spat contemptuously at him, his voice thick with disdain, "Serves ya' right for getting in my way."

As the disgraced challenger limped off the field, he left Link with a parting murmur, laced with regret, "I know I shouldn't be saying this, as he is on my team, but that man has no honor. Good luck to you, young sir. You're going to need it." His words lingered in the crisp air, filled with the musky scent of disturbed earth and sweat. Link, feeling the weight of the challenger's warning, gave a solemn nod and turned to face his final adversary, the dragoon. They were the last two combatants in the arena, their shadows long and daunting in the torchlight.

Link's focus sharpened, the earlier commotion of the crowd now a distant hum. His senses tingled with the sharp tang of iron from the blood-soaked sand and the acrid smell of fear and anticipation that hung heavy in the air. He didn't know the tally of the teams, nor did he really care. He just wanted to take that bastard down, whatever it took. Link readied himself in a fighting stance and tourney attendants took to the field to fetch the fallen.

The dragoon's voice boomed across the field, cutting through the tension. "You! Let's finish our dance, shall we?" His challenge thundered in the arena just as the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. A sudden, deep rumble, more felt than heard, vibrated through the very bones of the arena, startling both warriors and spectators alike. The crowd, initially jolted by the seismic shudder, began to murmur in panic, their whispers swirling like the wind through the stands.

Amidst the rising chaos, the Herald, ever a beacon of authority, raised his hands, calling for calm with the assurance of his presence. His voice soared over the crowd, a steady command in the tumult, urging everyone to remain seated, his words a balm to the nervous energy sparking through the stands.

"There is nothing to fret, my Lords and Fair Ladies! All part of the show!" the Herald proclaimed, his voice booming across the arena, infusing a wave of relief that washed over the anxious spectators. His reassurance reignited their spirits, and they turned their attention back to the field with renewed enthusiasm.

Indeed, the Herald's words proved prophetic. As if conjured by magic, the sands of the arena shifted and transformed. Hidden mechanisms churned, elevating wooden battlements and towering obstacles from beneath the earth. Massive masts adorned with ropes and chains rose like titans while wooden walls serving as battlements dotted the arena, setting the stage for a duel that promised to eclipse all prior spectacles. The rain, as if respecting the prestige of the moment, ceased, granting the challengers a momentary respite from the relentless downpour.

Amid this unfolding drama, Jun hustled back to the sidelines, weaving through the crowd of onlookers. "I'm back Sir, what is it you need again?!" he called out, his voice lost in the chaos of the transforming arena. But his return was ill-timed. Link's attention was riveted on the dragoon, who unleashed a furious assault. The Dragoon's sword whistled through the air, each strike narrowing the gap between them, a relentless torrent of aggression.

Link, heart pounding in his ears, danced away from the slashes, his sword meeting his opponent's with a shrill clang of metal. But the dragoon's blade was merciless, biting into Link's with each contact. In a devastating moment, the dragoon's sword came down hard again, and Link's blade, unable to withstand the brutality, snapped. The top half of his sword spun away, glinting under the intermittent torchlight as it flew.

The brave warrior stumbled backward; the broken hilt of his sword still clutched in his grip. His balance lost, he crashed to the muddy ground, the air knocked out of him. He lay there, vulnerable, staring up at the looming figure of the dragoon, his mind racing for a solution in the fleeting seconds he might have left.

Link couldn't understand why his sword surrendered so easily to his enemy. The dragoon had a taste for blood and with no time to wallow in the shock of being disarmed, Link's survival instincts kicked in. As the dragoon's blade sliced through the air, aiming to end the match with a brutal finality, Link ducked, the blade slicing nothing but a few scattered raindrops in the wind.

Link seized the moment to roll over the slick, muddy ground, narrowly evading another lethal swing that instead found its mark in the sturdy wood of a nearby battlement. A short wall consisting of crude planks which Link vaulted over desperately to maneuver tantalizingly close to his long-lost shield. Just a little further, he thought, eyeing the shield that lay a stone's throw away. If I could only get to it in time, just until Jun returns with my poleaxe. I might have a chance.

The dragoon, infuriated by Link's evasive tactics, bellowed across the field, his voice thick with scorn. "Coward! Face me like a man!" His taunts sliced through the air, intended to wound as deeply as his sword.

Link, hidden behind another risen wooden wall, suppressed the sting of those words. There he resisted the urge to take the bait. His adversary's voice dropped to a menacing whisper, a contrast to his previous roars, chillingly close yet blind to Link's exact location. "So, do you understand now? Or are you still the fool who doesn't know when to quit?"

Link saw an opening while the man was looking away and bolted, his back now pressed against the cold, rough surface of a pillar, his breathing heavy as he dared a glance over the barricade where his foe was. The arena, transformed into a maze of obstacles, was now a grand chessboard where every move could be fatal. The crowd loomed on the edge of their seat as they watched. Link needed more time to strategize. He could only hide for so long. And just as he lost all hope in what to do next it suddenly dawned on him.

"Cheater…" Link whispered to himself, piecing together the riddle earlier. The realization crystallized with bitter clarity—Of course, he thought. He shook his head as he leaned against the pillar, peeking over the side to see where the brute was on the field. "No honor," he whispered again. It all made sense now. The back alley shady deals, the suspicious man working the anvil, all of it. His blade wasn't bronze at all, merely adorned to resemble bronze; it was a deception, and underneath was cold rolled steel.

A flash of memory hit him; the blacksmith's words from whom he purchased his weapons earlier echoed in his mind, a warning he hadn't fully understood until now: 'Steel devours bronze as easily as a Goron devours rock steaks. Of course, you can't use castle weapons like that in a tourney like this, you're likely to kill somebody.'

Link knew then that he wasn't just dueling a man for sport; this was a desperate fight for survival now. This soldier wanted to kill him, or the very least seriously maim him and make it look like an accident.

With his shield just within reach and the crowd's anticipation humming like a charged storm, Link prepared to turn the tables.

He never stood a chance with his sword, but even as the dread came, a glimmer of hope returned to him. Jun! He should have my poleaxe. If I could only get my poleaxe surely, it would have enough reach and weight behind it to deflect the blows of a sword, steel or otherwise. He had to try. It was his only option left and if he could avoid getting hit altogether, the better. But the time was up, he had been discovered.

"There you are!" The Dragoon screeched as he charged at him with a thrust. And with a desperate dive, Link dodged again. His hand stretched out, fingers grazing the shield just within reach. It wouldn't be much, but it just might buy enough time until he could procure another weapon worthy of his adversary.

"Jun! My poleaxe, fetch my poleaxe! Quickly!" he shouted, his voice carrying over the din of battle to where Jun stood, paralyzed momentarily by the weight of his responsibility.

Jun snapped out of it and called to action, his eyes scanning the arsenal of Link's weapons laid out along the fence. There must have been half a dozen to choose from. His heart pounded as he tried to remember which it could be—daggers, axes, spears, lances; which was the poleaxe? His inexperience gnawed at him, but urgency spurred him on. He grasped what he hoped was the right weapon—a long-handled axe with a formidable flat head, unmatched for hacking and chopping—and sprinted towards the arena.

"Jun! Hurry!" Link pleaded again from afar. "I'm out of time!" The boy winced at the command, terrified he may have delayed too much to aid his Sir. Not to mention the brute wasn't letting up in the slightest and Link could only dodge and block so many times before the inevitable bite of steel would tear into his flesh.

"And then there were two, my esteemed Lords and Ladies," The herald began, a grievous commentary of the ordeal as if Link's fate had already been sealed. "Oh, no! It looks like our brave champion from the archery bout may have finally met his match!" the herald then took a gulp of his brew, wiped his chin of foam and continued basking in the drama. "What will he do now? Will he surrender? Or does he have what it takes to go toe to toe with this seasoned veteran? Does he have an unknown trick up his sleeve? Only time will tell and only will fate decide!"

Another man beside the herald then tugged on his arm, pointing toward the direction of the sidelines, and whispered conspiratorially in his ear. The herald's eyes widen with intrigue, like a child who discovered a treasure of treats hidden in the cupboard. "It appears the small warrior has beckoned his squire for assistance, but will the little lad make it in time to save his master? We shall see!" The ruckus of the crowd reverberated again as the pinnacle of action unfolded.

"End of the road, my friend!" sneered the Dragoon, his voice a mix of triumph and violence as he thrust forward, each strike meant to end the duel. Link, shield in hand, maneuvered with all the dexterity and desperation his weary body could muster, dodging, rolling, keeping just out of fatal reach.

Jun shouted to Link, holding up high his anticipated request. "Sir! I've got it!"

With a flash of a glance, Link answered back, but before he could finish his sentence, the mammoth of a dragoon unleashed another barrage of unrelenting slashes yet again at him. "That's not it! Jun, I need my poleaxe, not an axe!"

"Some squire you have! He doesn't even know what a poleaxe is! A pity!" The dragoon said as he followed up by a sneering laugh of mockery. "Where did you find him anyway? In the gutter of Allure Alley? I bet dumped by some used up pleasure maid who didn't want a screaming brat. Come to think of it? You're a low blood. Maybe that's where you're from too? Birds of a feather flock together, I suppose!"

Link ignored his taunts and remained determined to continue.

Meanwhile, bewildered and feeling like he had been punched in the gut for his failure, Jun's face went pale as he retreated back to the cache of weapons again. "Damn it, which one is it!" the boy cursed under his breath. Time was running out and worst of all, if he didn't return and quickly, it would be his fault if anything happened to Link. And he would be remembered as the worst squire ever. But more than that, he would have lost one of his only friends ever.

Jun's eyes reddened on the verge of tears when the gruff voice from before spoke beside him again. "Why are you panicking boy?"

Jun wiped away the tears before they could form, determined not to show any weakness, and spoke determinedly." Because if I don't hurry, he'll lose or worse."

"Well, which is it?"

"I need a poleaxe," Jun sniffed, before trying to act tough again. "The only problem is, I'm not quite sure which one is a poleaxe."

"I see," the man stooped to one of the weapons and grabbed it before handing it to the lad. "I trust this is what you're looking for?" he said, a faint grin beginning to tug at his lips, but the boy could hardly focus on that, distracted by the frightening and unwavering glare given by his war-ravaged eye staring at him.

The milky gleam of it gave made the boy squirm, but he instantly reacted yet again to not to show any fear and instead, took the weapon and with a firm nod ran as fast as his feet could carry him off to the battlefield.

With agility born of sheer necessity, Link darted out of the way again, his shield bearing the brunt of the retreat as iron bracings began to give way and bend at every clash. This is it, I don't know how much more I can take. With each devastating strike, the shield surrendered a little more, sending jolts of agonizing pain throughout his weakened arm.

His breaths came heavy and labored; his earlier vigor was fading, and the shadow of exhaustion loomed. As the sword bore down again, Link braced, for what may very well be the final impact, whispering an old knight's prayer, "Core of timber, clasp of steel, ward the blow that death may deal." The great sword hammered down again with a chop, splinters bursting forth like arrows in a skirmish.

Gritting his teeth, the brave warrior retaliated with a robust kick, exploiting an opening the dragoon left as his blade kissed the edge of his shield. Standing firm, he murmured the final lines of his invocation, his voice barely above a breath, "In the fray, my stalwart guard, by Hylia's grace, my doom be barred." He prepared himself, shield raised, as the dragoon rounded yet again and lifted his blade with a roar and lunged forward once more, determined to break through the defense that Link so desperately maintained.

And as the mighty great sword came crashing down to shatter the shield once and for all, a miracle ensued. Link's whispered prayer, though faint, was answered. The sword slammed into the bark and stuck, powerless to penetrate, leaving his opponent in shocked disbelief. "You and your damn shield!" the man raged.

Behind the furious brute, Jun appeared, clutching the poleaxe. "Sir, I have what you asked for! Here! Catch!" With all his might, the lad hurled the poleaxe, which was nearly as tall as he was.

As the weapon arced gracefully through the air, the dragoon's realization dawned too late. Link, watching the trajectory, prepared for his moment. As the sword remained lodged in the shield, a bead of worry now traced its way down the man's brow.

Seizing the moment, Link released his grip on the shield. The dragoon, desperate to free his weapon, pulled back, his force sending him staggering into a dizzying tumble, the battered shield tumbling with him.

He stood roaring with violent anger, wrenching his blade from the ruins of the shield and discarding it, only to find Link, now armed with the poleaxe, ready to duel face to face.

The dragoon, furious, turned to charge at Jun, who had disrupted their duel. But the quick-footed boy dodged effortlessly. "Why you little brat? I'll kill you after this! Mark my words!" he bellowed, his threat slicing through the air. But before he could advance, Link intervened, positioning himself between the dragoon and his squire, ready to protect at all costs.

"I'm the one you want!" Link bellowed, his voice carrying across the tumultuous din of the arena. He thrust his poleaxe forward, parrying a vicious slash from his enemy's sword. "Jun, get out of here now! It isn't safe! Leave him to me!" he ordered sharply.

"But Sir, will you be alright?" Jun protested, his loyalty wavering between obedience and the urge to help. "I can help though; I can fetch you a fresh shield!"

"No, there's no use!" Link countered firmly, his eyes locked on his opponent. "I have all I need now, thanks." With a renewed vigor, he circled his adversary, each step measured and deliberate, a dance of warriors under the scrutinous eyes of fate. This time, Jun heeded the command without further argument and retreated to the safety of the sidelines.

"If you think your little friend can escape me, you're sadly mistaken. I'll be dealing with him soon enough," the dragoon taunted, his voice dripping with venom.

"First, you've got to get through me," Link retorted, his stance unyielding, the polished bronze of his poleaxe catching the eerie moonlight that slipped through the parting clouds.

The dragoon lifted his visor, revealing a smirk intended to intimidate. "If you're as good with a melee weapon as you are at jousting, then I have nothing to worry about. You're as good as dead."

"I warn you, I'm best with a poleaxe. And you fought dirty earlier." Link's grip tightened, ready to prove his mettle where words would fail.

"You royals." The dragoon said, a grin smirking under his visor. "Wishing you were true KNIGHTs. You're all but nothing but a shadow of what KNIGHTs were. They are long gone and soon you will be too. You and your pathetic honor, I spit at the lot of you," he said, as he spat a wad of phlegm at Link's boots. "None can withstand the edge of my blade. And Honor certainly won't save you from me. Or haven't you learned? I thought you understood. Bronze has no chance against castle-forged steel. And you know what the best part is about that?"

Link lifted his head to listen more intently as the man howled a final laugh before whispering a final taunt. "They'll never know the truth once you're dead."

Link flexed and ignored him, rallied to listen to his instincts and follow his training. True, he may have had a weapon of bronze, but the sheer weight, reach and agility to maneuver regardless of ore evened the odds. For a knight's true weapon, was his poleaxe. Athelon and his father taught him that. Only a fool would reach for a sword over the other. They circled each other warily, each anticipating the other's move in the tense prelude to their final clash.

"Now, you, taste my blade!" the man cried out as he lashed out first.

Link drew a deep, icy breath, allowing a moment of stillness to envelop him. He closed his eyes, silencing the clamor of the arena to focus solely on the pulse of his instincts. This moment was the culmination of all he had learned, a lifetime distilled into mere seconds. When he reopened his eyes, time slowed to a crawl, and seized this stretched thin slice of reality to glance towards Jun, whose enthusiastic cheers pierced the tension, then across to the royal enclosure. There he saw that she too had not given up on him. This was it, the final bout, and the longest ten seconds he'll ever endure. All he had to do was just hearken to the wise counsel of his father and let go—and win.

AUTHORS NOTE: Next chapter will be a short one but will wrap things up for our climax. I hope you enjoy this story and let me know if the pacing is alright. I'm going to do my best and pick up the pace a bit more. Let me know with a comment of your thoughts. Thanks- Sky

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why we failed pt. 14

Broken

As the Dragoon's great sword cleaved through the air, Link nimbly evaded, the blade slicing nothing but the damp evening mist. With the agility borne of desperate necessity, Link countered deftly, his poleaxe's spearpoint feinting a thrust to provoke the brute into a reckless response. True to Link's strategy, the Dragoon lunged for a brutal counterstrike.

Seizing the moment with a dancer's grace, Link pivoted, redirecting his weapon's hefty backend in a powerful arc aimed not at the man's armored chest but his half-shielded face. Yet, the Dragoon recoiled in time, the poleaxe merely grazing his helm—a mere irritant rather than the incapacitating blow Link had hoped to deliver. Though Link harbored no desire to maim, he knew a solid blow to the head might expedite a quick surrender.

"Not that easy kid!" the Dragoon barked defiantly.

"I never said it would be easy winning," Link shot back, his weapon poised and ready.

"Fool, you won't be winning at all!" With these words, the Dragoon surged forward, a torrent of disguised steel unleashed in slashing fury. Link found himself pressed, each dodge transitioning into desperate parries as golden sparks sprayed where the deceptive steel met the heft of his poleaxe. Though resilient thanks to its weight, bronze began to give way and shards of his breaking weapon scattered, twinkling like dire stars around them.

Driven into a strategic corner, Link's situation grew dire—until the arena itself seemed to respond to the climax of their battle. With a mechanical groan, the pillars and battlements that had risen like specters of war now sank back into the earth, leaving the fighters enclosed in a circle of ominous orange light. What now? Link thought.

The Dragoon's grin was malevolent in the glow. "Hope you're ready. There's no way out now."

Link, his expression one of grim resolve, clutched his beleaguered poleaxe. Despite the obscured vision from his dented helm, he couldn't risk revealing his true identity, not yet. He understood what this moment demanded. It was time to conclude this duel, decisively. How to achieve that, under these constraints, was the only question left unanswered.

The arena was a crucible of fierce anticipation, the air thick with the scent of scorched earth and the tang of sweat and fear as the Sheikah pyrotechnics framed the duelists in a circle of blazing light. Link, disguised as Helmsworth, faced his daunting adversary, the Dragoon, whose great sword glared with a malicious promise under the flickering flames.

The crowd's roar, a maelstrom of cheers and boos, seemed to fade into a background murmur as the two warriors circled each other. Link's grip tightened around the haft of his poleaxe, the metal cold and unyielding beneath his palms. His breaths came in visible puffs in the chill air, each one tasting of the crisp, impending rain that threatened above.

"You can do it, Sir! Get him!" Jun shouted from the sidelines, his voice cracking under the weight of his concern. He stood on his tiptoes, trying to get a better view over the throng of spectators.

The Dragoon seized on Link's momentary distraction and lunged suddenly, his great sword slashing down in a vicious slash. Link narrowly sidestepped, the tip of the blade grazing his armor. Utilizing the momentum, Link twirled his poleaxe expertly, the backend of the weapon sweeping towards the Dragoon's legs in an attempt to unbalance him. The soldier leaped back just in time, his sneer visible beneath his visor. It was then Link caught an iron fist to the face. The Dragoon's true intended target. The swipe of the sword was merely just a lure. Luckily, his helm endured most the blow, but it was enough to rattle his jaw and bloody his lip.

"Is that all?" the Dragoon mocked, his laugh harsh and grating.

Link's mouth tightened, his grip on the poleaxe firming as he returned to circle his foe, the sandy floor of the arena warm under his boots from the encircling orange flames that entrapped them. He knew now not to take the situation lightly and watched the Dragoon's movements intently, each step measured and precise despite the adrenaline that surged through his veins.

Arasmus watched with a viper's smile from his high seat, his eyes glinting with dark delight as he observed Zelda's tense posture. "Watch closely, my dear," he murmured, though Zelda scarcely heard him over the thunder of her own heartbeat in her ears. She felt the rough wood of the balcony rail under her fingers, the splinters catching at her skin as she gripped it, her knuckles white.

On the field, the Dragoon taunted Link with brutal swipes, his sword a blur of gold colored steel that whooshed menacingly close each time. Link was clearly on the defensive, each parry forcing him backward, his boots slipping in the mud that clung hungrily at his steps. The metallic taste of adrenaline and blood filled his mouth, a sharp contrast to the smoky air filled with the aroma of burning pitch and sweat.

Link's poleaxe was a cumbersome friend in the tight circle, its length an advantage and a curse, as he needed space to maneuver it effectively. The Dragoon exploited this, pressing closer with each thunderous step of his heavy armor, the sound a constant clangor that matched the erratic beating of Link's heart.

Zelda's breath caught as she watched Link stumble, a near-miss by the Dragoon's blade sending a spray of mud up that spattered Link's visor, obscuring his vision with dark, wet earth. She could almost taste the grit, imagining the minerality of it against her tongue, her stomach churning with dread.

Jun, on the sidelines, felt helpless, his youthful face drawn with worry as he watched his Sir, his new mentor, faltering under the relentless assault. "Come on, Sir!" he shouted, his voice cracking, the scent of his own fear sharp in his nostrils like the edge of a knife. "Please, he's right there, you almost had him!"

The Dragoon's laughter was a cruel sound that cut through the clamor of the arena. "Is this all you can muster? And to think, we were worried about you getting in the way." he jeered, his voice carrying clearly.

Link's gaze narrowed, looking through the visor of his helm. What does that mean? Who's worried? He swung again, a blow that Link barely blocked with the shaft of his poleaxe, the impact sending a shudder through his arms and a shockwave of pain up his already aching shoulders from when he fell off his mount.

Zelda's breath caught in her throat as she watched Link being driven back by the Dragoon's relentless assault. "Come on, Helmsworth," she whispered, so softly that it was lost in the noise of the arena.

Zelda couldn't stand it any longer. She felt a sickening twist of her belly as she watched Helmsworth pushed ever backward, her hand flying to her mouth. "No…" she whispered, the word barely a breath.

Suddenly, the Dragoon made a powerful downward strike, aimed to end the duel once and for all. Then, as if the skies themselves responded to the unfolding tragedy below, a bolt of lightning cleaved the dark sky above, casting a stark, bright light over the arena. The ensuing thunder was like a signal, a cue to which Link responded. He used the flash to his advantage as he knew it caught his foe's eyes. And as the Dragoon raised his sword for what might have been a finishing blow, Link ducked low in the brilliance, getting lost in it.

With a grunt of effort, Link swung his poleaxe in a low arc, the backend of the weapon sweeping toward the Dragoon's legs. The move was unexpected, desperate, and it worked. The Dragoon toppled; his sword barely held loose in his grasp as he hit the ground with a heavy thud that sent a spray of sand into the air. And with all the strength Link could muster he swung the hammer end of his weapon against his foe's, launching the blade skyward to fall outside the ring of fire.

Zelda gasped and her heart stopped. The crowd erupted around her, but she could only see Link as he stood over the Dragoon, poleaxe poised. She could taste the tension in the air, mingled with the acrid scent of ozone from the lightning, the delightful aroma of earlier refreshments, and the bitter tang of cold sweat and fear. Is it over?

Standing over the fallen Dragoon, Link pointed the tip of his poleaxe at the man's throat. "Do you yield?" His voice, firm and commanding, pierced the now-silent arena.

The Dragoon lifted his visor, casting a defiant glance at the crowd. Their judgment ringing in his ears. The match was over.

"Well? Do you yield or must I go further?" Link said sternly, still catching his breath.

"I, I yield," he rasped, barely a whisper, glaring up at Link with undisguised animosity.

"I can't hear you." Link said.

"I told you, I yield!" the Dragoon bellowed, the words torn from him in a rush of defeat. Link didn't move for a long beat, his chest heaving as he stared down at his fallen enemy, the poleaxe still ready.

Remembering his honor, Link slowly lowered his weapon and offered a hand to the Dragoon, to help him to his feet. The gesture was met with a mixed reaction from the crowd, but Zelda felt a surge of pride wash over her, sweet and warm like honey for his knightly conduct.

However, the fallen Dragoon harbored no such sentiments. Filled with contempt, he spat on Link's outstretched hand and remained kneeling in the mud. Link recoiled, his expression hidden beneath his helm, his frown deepening as he flicked the phlegm from his gauntlet.

It was then he heard the roars of the crowd applause again and the herald take charge once more. The herald cleared his throat, his face pale as sour milk. "What an upset, my Lords and ladies!" he croaked, mopping his brow with a handkerchief.

Jun couldn't resist the urge anymore and bolted over the fence to greet Link. As they met, the lad proudly gripped his arm and raised it high for all to bask in his victory. "Not so rough, Jun," Link said softly with a wince of pain. "I took quite a beating back there."

"Ah, you're fine! You did it! You actually won!"

Link blinked. "What, you didn't think I could?"

"Well, it's not that Sir, it's just that man is no good and he fights dirty. Who knew what kind of tricks he would pull. But I knew you had it in you. I bet she did too." Jun whispered back, knowing full well that their conversation was in earshot of the Dragoon, who still knelt and watched.

Back at the royal box, Arasmus' expression darkened; his secret schemes thwarted by the turn of events. Beside him, Zelda stood firm ignoring him among her friends, her eyes bright with unshed tears, not of despair, but of fierce, proud relief. Eagerly they listened as the Herald made his announcement.

Glancing up at the royal box, the Herald reluctantly sought Arasmus's silent approval to continue. Their eyes met, and with a shrug, the Herald signaled his intent to proceed, his expression conveying a silent message of 'what can I do, the kid won.' Needless to say, the noble lord was far from amused. Clearing his throat nervously, the Herald made his decree.

"It seems the Goddess has spoken! She has found her champion who will compete in tonight's trials alongside the initiates!" The crowd buzzed with excitement at his proclamation, and in that moment, his assistant leaned in conspiratorially once more, whispering into his ear.

"Yes, I am aware of that," the Herald said, shooing him away with a dismissive wave as he addressed the crowd. But he persisted, prodding him until the Herald relented. "I am reminded by my good man, Percy here, that we are to have three champions join the initiates," he explained. "However, it would appear that this warrior accomplished victories for two out of the three contests on his own. So, it is decided that he and one other will join the cadets on their journey for glory! None other than the man he faced here!" he declared boldly, pointing towards the defeated Dragoon.

Percy then shook his head and leaned to whisper again, only to be met with another dismissive flick as if he was a buzzing fly pestering his ear.

"Yes, yes, I know, I remember," the Herald whispered back, perturbed by his noble associate. "The teams during the melee and the joust, I remember. But, I wasn't the one who changed the rules at the last moment. So, you can't blame me if things didn't go as planned. I have to make this up as I go now," he added, growing irritated by Percy's persistence. It was then he nearly forgot he was in the middle of a grand speech. "Now, if you're finished, let me speak to the people before we both lose our heads. The winning team shall receive their bounty, that much Her Highness has promised. And that should suffice them."

He coughed into his fist yet again, the crowd getting anxious and downright a little rambunctious for the strange delay of decorum and ceremony. "As I was saying, it has been decided that this champion, who interestingly bears the mark of her Royal Highness will continue to join the cadets this evening. The challenger whom he defeated will also be granted the opportunity to enlist alongside them on their perilous trial. As for the rest of the contestants who won as a team in the final bout, bounties for the top three will be set aside by the treasury to be paid to them. All failed challengers will have to relinquish their arms and armor used during the tourney to be consecrated and sold at market value for the poorest among us, as earlier decreed by her royal majesty! Those wishing to keep their gear, must pay the bounty for their loss!"

But even before the dust could settle or the crowd could calm their clamoring, Link, standing beside Jun, heard the grumbling discontent from the beaten Dragoon just feet behind him. Like a sixth sense, the power he felt seldom during the fight earlier awakened once more, and in a blink time slowed.

"I warned you, your cheating little friend won't escape me. He'll answer for sabotaging my victory and disgracing me before my liege," the Dragoon growled in a low whisper. In an instant, the brute sprang to his feet, darting not towards Link, but his unsuspecting squire, who remained blissfully unaware of the impending danger.

Link leapt into action, realizing that the man had unsheathed a secret dagger and was lunging right at Jun from behind. "Jun, look out!" he yelled, forcefully shoving the boy to the ground several paces away.

"Ow, what was that for?" Jun protested, oblivious to the peril he was in and the unfolding chaos.

But even with his swiftness, Link couldn't evade the strike intended for his squire, feeling the sting of steel piercing his flesh between his pauldron and breastplate. Everything unfolded so rapidly that the audience struggled to comprehend the sudden turn of events. The Herald stood speechless, unable to narrate the chaos to the bewildered crowd. Zelda and the others were equally stunned, their elation turning to despair in the blink of an eye. Aramsus, though taken aback by the boldness of the attack, refrained from displaying any emotion.

"Gotcha now, hero boy," sneered the Dragoon as he twisted his blade agonizingly between Link's shoulder and chest. "Betcha wish you thought twice to gr…grgg..grgle." But before the man could rip the knife out and deliver the killing blow, or before Link could counter with a deflective guard with what little strength he had left, a silent whisper whistled across the arena, and a single arrow impaled the unguarded neck of the Dragoon. The man fell back, releasing his grip on his dagger, and collapsed onto the sand to choke in his own blood.

Link, on the other hand, pulled away, but the dagger remained lodged in him, a grim reminder of his perilous situation. Everything around him began to blur, the noise swelling around him. His head swam, and suddenly he found himself kneeling on the ground, his breathing labored. Warm liquid soaked his tunic where his arm met his shoulder, drips falling from his fingers. He could feel his heart pound in his hands.

The stadium erupted into chaos. Where did the arrow come from? Zelda and her closest friends huddled together, attempting to take control of the situation, while Aramsus ordered his men to close ranks around them. Royal Guardsmen also sprang into action, swarming around the King, their hands on their hilts and ready for any threat. Everyone, from the nobles in the stands to the commons along the fences, people searched to see where the mystery arrow flew from but to no avail.

Between every blink, the last thing Link saw as he fell to the sand was his squire running to kneel at his side to render him aid. "Hang on, Sir, you're going to be okay!" the boy pleaded, turning to face the sidelines and the Herald. "He needs help! He's been stabbed! Please, hang on. Help!"

Authors Note: A very short one, but don't fret, the next one will be out in less than a week. It's already almost finished. Thanks for reading and please leave a comment if you enjoyed this one.

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why we failed pt. 15

Steady hands and a Torn Heart

The room was black as pitch but slowly took shape around him. To his relief, Link realized he hadn't died, or so he believed. His head throbbed and his body ached as he lay on some sort of table. The air felt damp, like a cold cellar, and he could smell the stringent odors of strange ointments and tonics. Surely, if he were dead, he wouldn't be able to smell or be in this much pain, right? Or maybe that's what death was—everlasting pain or your last state of being. But what exactly was his last state of being?

Unsure, he realized that most of the darkness was due to the half-helm still covering his face. Fearing the worst, he desperately tried to move his fingers to feel the extent of the damage. The last memory no longer fresh in his mind, he pieced together the order of events that had just transpired. The tournament—that's it, that's where I was. The match, the last duel with that Dragoon. Why did he try to attack? Jun! Where's Jun?

"Lay still," a moody voice instructed. Suddenly, light began to flood the cellar as a door sprung ajar, casting torchlight from the other room. The bright blaring white burned his eyelids nearly blinding him.

"You are in no condition to move. After I give you my medicine, you can do what you want with your life, but for now, you are my patient. I'm under strict orders to see you are cared for in my hands. What you do afterwards with your life is your own affair," the voice said, slamming the door behind him. The room darkened again.

Link blinked in the dim light, trying to focus on the figure now approaching him. The smell of herbs and something akin to burnt wood filled his nostrils. He could taste the bitter tang of some medicinal concoction lingering in the air.

"…Jun," Link moaned.

"Jun? I don't know any Jun," the voice responded.

Link coughed, his vision beginning to clear as a candlelight melted into focus from the slit of his visor. The room, now illuminated, revealed rows of shelves lined with vials, jars, and curious instruments. A robed man sat beside him, looking more like a Sanctuary Cleric than a doctor. From what Link could spy from where he lay, the man had an air of solemn authority.

"Oh, you mean that boy. I had to shoo him out of here. Meddlesome lad, telling me how to do my job," the robed man shook his head, reaching for a thin bottle as he set down the candelabrum. "You know, I've been trained in the arts of mending wounds and learned even a bit of healer craft from the Zora themselves. Yet, that boy says he knows better and has seen better. Well, what I have to say to that is—"

"—I'm sorry…but, I don't care right now," Link mumbled, the man's tirade only adding to the pain. "Just, where is he, please?"

"Who, that boy?"

"Yes," Link moaned, his arm pulsing with throbs at every breath.

"Well, fine, if you insist. But I'll have to go fetch him. He also insisted I keep your helm on and said that it was your wish. How am I to perform my duties if I can't inspect the scope of your wounds? For all I know, there's hardly any head under there to save."

"Oh no, the Trial of the Flame!" Link hollered, ignoring the sagely man. "I'll be disqualified!" He suddenly stirred where he lay, attempting to draw strength to rise, but the old man pressed against him to lie still.

"See what I mean? No brains. What's the matter with you? Didn't you a word I said? You're lucky to be alive. Are you so eager to get yourself killed?"

Link ignored him, trying to muster the strength to rise, but he just couldn't budge a muscle. His entire body screamed in protest, the throbbing pain in his arm syncing with every desperate heartbeat.

Link's mind raced, his heartbeat matching the desperate throb of his wound. The man shook his head with a tsk. "I just finished putting your arm and shoulder back together and here you are ready to undo all my hard work. Well, count me out the next time they bring you to me. I'm tired of stitching up foolish boys who wanna run off looking for trouble. I never understood it. Perfectly good heads they have on their shoulders and what do they want to do? Bash them in just to prove themselves. And all just for the shouts of the crowd or the praise of pretty maidens who bat their eyelashes at them."

Link groaned. "I don't compete for maidens or glory. I need to become a guardsman."

"Oh really? Then explain why such a sweet maiden took such a high interest in you and brought you here, so much so that she left a fat sack of rupees right there on my desk to see to it?"

"Huh?" Link croaked, confusion lacing his voice as he turned his head towards the direction the man gestured. There, on a workbench, sat a brown sack brimming with gems where flickering candlelight cascaded through them brilliant hues of red, green and blue on the walls of the dimly lit room like some strange ethereal halo.

"She's the one who paid for your expedited care. I do have a slew of other patients, but she said you are to take priority this evening. Not that I had much choice. Clearly, you were in the worst shape of the lot. Most of the others only had bruised egos than bodies."

The old cleric quivered a smile. "Why is that you think she demanded you take priority? Why you more so than any of the other lads if she doesn't fancy an eye on you? Surely, you must know."

"Who? Huh?"

"The princess, lad," the man said with a chortle, his arm wobbling as he reached for a small bowl with shimmying powder to mix with some steaming tonic he poured from a bottle. "You must have hit your head harder than I thought. But yes, her majesty herself tasked me to watch after you and make sure you are made whole by the morrow. Now, that girl is a maiden if I ever met one."

"The princess?! She saw me?"

"Hylia, no. The boy saw to that. And again, I must ask, why the secret? For all I know, you're about three seconds from keeling over or worse, you may go deaf and dumb by the blow done to your cranium. You've hardly made any sense since you awoke. It might be a concussion."

"A what?"

"A concussion, ugh, never mind. Look, if you don't want to reveal yourself to her or anybody, fine, but I at least should have a look. She left already for the feast anyway."

"The feast? How long have I been out?"

"Oh, I'd say about thirty or so minutes since they brought you to me. You're at the castle now, deep into its underbelly near the dungeons," the cleric said, adjusting a jar on his cluttered table.

"But what of the Trial of the Flame? It's tonight. I don't understand—" Link's voice was weak but insistent.

"Postponed until the morrow, I'm afraid," the man responded briskly, lifting Link's arm to apply a smoking herbal poultice. Link winced as it stung like mad. The man continued his work without skipping a beat. "Like I said, you must be some sort of special because it seems you hold high favor with her majesty. By her royal decree, the trials have been halted until the morrow. So now, they have gone and started the first eve of feasting instead. You would have joined them if it weren't for your injury. And I must caution against thinking of getting up to join them no matter how tempting the prospect may be. The medicine of the Zora that I had was in small supply, and your body won't be fully mended till the morning light. Now, what say we have a look at that head?"

"First, Jun, what of Jun?" Link asked, fighting back the chattering of his teeth as he shivered on the table. A sudden chill began to overcome him.

"Oh yeah, the boy. I'll go get him. He's waiting in the hall. But first, you're going to have to drink this potion." The man helped Link lift his head and raised the bowl to his lips, filled with a pale, soupy substance. Link's tongue and lips protested.

"What did you expect? Sweet Romani Milk?"

Link fought the gag, the initial drips staining his tunic, but he managed to gulp down the rest.

"Down the hatch now. Every last drop. That's Mending Milk all the way from the Lake of Three Omens. Very rare and extremely expensive to procure. Only the most accomplished of Zora can reach the fathoms deep enough to traverse those frigid, murky waters."

Link coughed. "Y—why is that?"

The man shook his head, popping a cork back onto one of the vials. "Because only those who are blessed by the Patron Deity of the Zora can resist the ancient evil that lurks within those treacherous depths. Only they can survive long enough to withstand the poison and discover the hidden treasure guarded by what is only described as a terrible beast," he said, before chortling to himself again.

"W—what beast?"

"Tales speak of a finned demon from the ancient world."

"Ancient world?" Link asked, gripping the sheets beside him in a closed fist.

"Yes, remnants from an age where the world was very different than what we perceive now. A world where darkness ruled over light. A land where monsters freely roamed. But since the grace of the goddess, the tide has turned and we are now in the age of the long peace."

"And of the beast?"

"Legends name him Gyorga or Gyorg, depending on the dialect and who you ask. And he only lives on they say because the darkness of those waters shields him from the light of the goddess."

Link winced again just as he was listening.

The old man smiled softly again, as if turning the page of a riveting book. "You see, the unique milky tonic you drank from comes from the mysterious Shell-Blade Clam. The Zora say they are guarded by that monster. And inside the heart of these wondrous creatures lies a pearl, the key ingredient to this special brew. They say Shell-Blade Clams only produce one every seven years. Strangely though, aside from the name, it tastes like anything but, milk," the man said, before returning to glance at Link who he saw struggling to listen. "Don't worry, you'll feel better soon."

"And Jun?" Link pressed; his voice strained.

"Oh yes, I'll go fetch him for you. I suppose you deserve that much," the cleric said with a thin smile. "Quite the loyal one you found there. He even refused a hot supper and a seat at her majesty's table to wait by your side. A scrawny, hungry lad like that, I couldn't believe it. But wait here, it will be just a minute."

Link fell back on the straw pillow that cradled his head, stewing over what had transpired. The tournament felt like ages ago, yet according to the old goat, it had just happened. Even the details of the contests were still fuzzy in his mind. He tried to recall the events, the faces, the roar of the crowd. Everything felt distant, a haze of indistinct memories.

It didn't take long for the cleric to return with Jun chasing the tail of his robes.

"Here's your squire as requested. But, like I said before, you shouldn't get up. When they brought you to me, you had lost quite a bit of your life's blood. I'm amazed you're awake even now. Surely, you must be exhausted and a bit dizzy still."

Jun rushed to Link's side, eyes wide with concern. "Sir, I'm so glad you're awake!" he exclaimed, his voice a mixture of relief, worry and excitement. "They said you were a goner, but I knew better. No way some sneak attack could have done you in."

Link managed a weak smile. "I'm still here, Jun. Thanks to you, I hear."

"Aw, it was nothing." Jun said, fighting the childish blush, looking down at his worn boots. "I did what anyone would do, Sir. It's my duty."

"So, the princess, did she?"

"No, you haven't got to worry about that. I made sure you kept your helm on during everything. Speaking of, she asked me to join them for the feast, but I told them all that my place is here. Besides, you saved my life. What sort of squire would I be if I ran off when you needed me most?"

Link struggled a smile as he tried to sit up in his bed but couldn't.

"Easy now, easy." The old cleric intervened. "Not so fast. I'm afraid you won't be able to move until the morning light. You see, the medicine has a grip on your entire body now. It's part of the healing process. And once it takes a hold of your senses, you'd have a better chance wiggling out of a Leever pit than overcoming the properties of that potion."

Link groaned. "Now you tell me." The old man shrugged. Link then forced his lips to move and speak. "Jun, come closer."

The boy obeyed and sat nearer to him to listen.

"Go to the feast and give my regards and apologies for not being able to make it. Tell the Princess, I will be ready for the marrow's trial. Whatever it takes. Also, find my father or Sven and tell them where I am, but no one else, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Sure thing, Sir, but shouldn't I stay here and keep guard over you?" Jun asked, concern etched on his young face.

"I'll be fine," Link reassured, his voice steady despite his exhaustion.

"But Sir, he tried to kill you, that Dragoon. Luckily, somebody got to him before he could have done more damage," Jun insisted, his eyes wide with urgency.

"Someone got the Dragoon?" Link asked, perplexed.

"Oh, yes, it was an amazing shot too. The best all night, some say, though I think yours earlier during the contest was a tad better," Jun said, pride mingling with worry.

Link blinked, trying to piece it together. "Never mind that, Jun. But you're certain someone got the Dragoon?"

"Yeah, and killed him dead too. Good riddance, I say. He was evil and wanted you dead," Jun replied fervently.

"But how?" Link pressed, his brow furrowed.

"An arrow."

"An arrow?"

"Yeah, it was amazing that it didn't hit you though. It came this close, grazing right past your ear some saw. But, in the end it didn't. The Dragoon took it in the gizzard instead. So apparently, someone was looking out after you. Unfortunately, he left no trace and got a way before the soldiers could find him."

I'm not so sure if I would say that. It may have been intended for me and missed.

"But Sir, even still, that Dragoon wasn't acting alone. Somebody gave the order to have you killed in the tournament. They also found that his weapons were false. Not true bronze at all. He cheated," Jun explained, his voice trembling slightly.

"I know. That's why I had you fetch me my poleaxe during the match," Link said, his expression grim.

Jun leaned in, clenching Link's tunic. "They want you dead, Sir. I just know it. Dragoons are the worst, trust me."

Link managed a smirk. "You mean, they want us both dead. Don't forget, that knife was intended for you first, and now I hear there's another mystery villain on the loose."

"Yes, but that man saved you. Surely—"

"—We can't be sure he intended to save me or not," Link interrupted, shaking his head.

"Well, if that's true and you are right, Sir, then that means you're not safe in the condition you are in. What if he's really an assassin and comes for you in the night and I'm busy off back at the party pavilions?" Jun shook his head, insistent. "I would much rather stay here and stand guard. I don't belong at no party anyway."

"Jun, please. I'll be okay. Mystery man or no. This room used to be a holding cell from what I can tell. I'll ask the good doctor to lock it before every time he comes and goes. These doors are made from thick Deku and are reinforced by castle-forged iron. So you have no need to fret over me. My concern is for you, and I know you will be safe at the feast," Link said, his tone firm yet comforting.

"But Sir, I don't think—"

"—No buts, Jun. As your knight, this is an order. There is no place better for you to keep safe than by the princess's side," Link insisted, though doubt lingered in his mind. "There will be scores of guardsmen around. And besides, she will need you to keep her company in my stead. And above all, she asked for you to join her. That is a very high honor."

"Ugh, if you insist," Jun rolled his eyes, protesting. "But she's a girl. What sort of things could I possibly talk about with a girl? I mean, she is pretty and nice and all, but I don't know how to keep a lady like her company. They like silly things. Not to mention, those other lords don't want me there either."

"Which is exactly why you should go. Go for me."

Jun feigned a whine.

"You'll do fine. And besides, this victory is just as much yours as it is mine. I really would have been a goner on that field if it weren't for you. Go, you deserve it. How often do you get to enjoy such fine food and drink?" Link coughed, trying to sound convincing. He could see the lad rolling the idea around in his head with that screwed up face he makes.

"But just do me a favor while you're there and enjoying yourself," Link added, his tone shifting to a more serious note.

"And what's that?" Jun asked, curiosity piqued.

"Try and keep an eye out for me, okay? I'm trusting you to act in my stead and listen to what is happening. Keep a watch for anything while I'm resting," Link instructed, his voice steady.

"I guess, if that's what you really want. But I still think it's a stupid idea. My place is here. If something were to happen, it's going to be here. I even found Shywind and brought her too. She's grazing right outside near the postern gate. We're both here for you," Jun insisted, his loyalty unwavering.

Link used what little strength remained and gripped the boy's hand. "Please, Jun, go." His voice carried a hidden urgency, a silent plea that Jun could sense but in his young mind couldn't entirely decipher.

"Fine, as you wish," Jun relented, the weight of the unspoken message lingering in his mind. With a reluctant nod, he scooted off the side of the table Link lay on and rushed out the door, disappearing into the early evening.

"A loyal lad you have there," the cleric offered with a smile, clearing his belongings back into their proper shelves and sleeves. "And with that, I too must bid you fairly-well this evening. It seems your head is just fine. And besides, the hour of the whistling mist will soon be at hand, and I wouldn't want to miss that. Rest well, and I'll see you at dawn's first light."

Before Link could reply or understand the old man's cryptic last words, the door slammed shut, and the padlock and door bar clicked into place. The medicine began to work its mysterious magic on him, and slowly, the dimly lit candles around the old cellar began to dance and sway, as if alive, listening to the music of happier times. Perhaps they were a mirror of the festivities happening now back at the pavilions which Link missed. He could only wonder.

He could only wonder if Jun understood the meaning of his gripped message. Though the feast would be guarded, he knew now that the princess needed someone, she could trust by her side to keep watch, especially now that a mystery assailant was on the loose, and that someone was Jun.

Before he could delve too much into his thoughts, the room fell black again, and he too along with it.

Forty minutes prior-

The royal box was a frenzy. Guards and guests alike rose from their seats, still trying to comprehend what had transpired. Helmsworth, the Princess's champion, lay collapsed on the sandy arena, flanked by his squire desperately trying to render aid, while his would-be challenger drowned in his own blood beside them. Zelda could hardly make heads or tails of it. Moments ago, she was filled with excitement, pride, and hope for the future. Now, all that was replaced by despair and uncertainty. She whispered to herself, "I have to get to him, he needs help."

Before she could act, Lord Danarus, father of Arasmus, took control with his commanding voice. "Find where that arrow flew from! Seal all the exits of the grounds! Go, now!" he barked orders at his subordinates. He then turned to the king with an air of confidence. "Not to worry, my King, my finest men will find this culprit and enact swift justice."

Zelda, speaking up like a mouse among a pride of lions, interjected wishing for her own sense of justice, "And what of the culprit who now lies dead on the sand? The one who shamelessly attacked and stabbed a man in the back. What of his crime?"

"Your questions will be answered, I assure you, dear Princess," Lord Danarus replied sharply. "I promise, as soon as we secure the area."

"With swarms of Dragoons around, how can anyone feel safe?" Zelda mumbled disapprovingly.

"That is enough, Zelda," the king snapped, overhearing her. He then turned to his most trusted counselor, his voice stern. "But she is right, Lord Danarus. There must be an inquiry as to why one of your bannermen tried to murder a man when his back was turned."

Arasmus lifted his hand, as one would make a peace offering during war. "It is my fault."

Everyone glanced at him, unsure if they heard him right. Zelda most of all didn't trust his sly tongue and glared secretly at him. Is this a confession of guilt? Or has he completely lost his wits?

"You see, my liege, and dear Princess, the man who attacked your champion was formerly under my banner. I should have mentioned it sooner, but I saw no harm in him enlisting from afar. It is a free kingdom, after all," the young lord defended, looking to the princess for acceptance.

Zelda didn't know what to make of his reasons, and a strange pause ensued even as the chaos below still brewed.

"Go on," Danarus urged, looking to his son for a full explanation.

Arasmus swallowed and continued, "A disgraced outcast from the order of Dragoons."

"How so?" Zelda interrogated.

Arasmus played it off coolly, like water off a duck's back. "He was dismissed from my service due to some earlier crimes that came to light. Rockwell was his name. We exiled him mere days ago and banished him from our midst. He must have sought to get back at me for stripping him of his ranks, titles, and holdings in the only way he knew how."

"And how would that be?" she inquired again, more focused on catching whatever slick lie he might ramble out next.

"Isn't it obvious, my dear?" Arasmus said smoothly.

Her face scrunched up into a perplexed look, which she quickly hid.

"He wanted to get back at me by upsetting you, my dear Princess. It's the only explanation for his lack of honor on the field. He must have overheard about this Helmsworth fellow and made his play to upstage the events here today. Forgive me for not stopping the farce before it got out of hand, but I had no idea things would escalate to such a depraved level of debauchery."

You're good. But not as good as you believe yourself to be, Zelda thought. But don't worry. The others may be fooled by your sweet explanations, but I know better, your words of honey are poison to me.

"Forgive me, dear Sundelion," Arasmus said with a bow, his arm crossing his chest in a solemn gesture of penance. "I made an error in judgment."

Hearing the chaotic chorus of voices rallying below, Zelda decided not to press him further. "It is enough. Rise. I have to get down to the field. Helmsworth needs help, and that Herald is clueless at controlling the situation."

"Way to take action, Little Bird," Urbosa chimed in, her voice carrying a note of admiration.

"Well, someone must. Might as well be me," Zelda replied, her tone firm.

"Then, I'm glad it is you," Prince Arcturus commented, stepping beside Purah, Urbosa, and a few Gerudo sentries.

King Rhoam shook his head, a frown creasing his brow. "I don't like the idea of you meandering down there among the common riffraff, my dear. Especially alone," he insisted, rising from his high seat and taking a step toward her.

"I will not seek refuge here like some scared little girl," the princess insisted, fiery determination aglow in her eyes. "In mere hours I'll be ten and six, a woman grown. What the people need to see from me now is strength. Forgive me, Father, but I won't be intimidated into hiding."

"But Zelda—"

"—She won't be alone," Arasmus interjected. "I, as well as an entire troop of men, will escort her."

"And we'll go too," asserted Urbosa, placing a comforting arm around Zelda. Urbosa didn't trust Arasmus or his goons. Her uncle also gave her an encouraging and approving wink.

The king glanced at Danarus who had better judgement and experience in these situations. With a nod, that was all the council the king needed. "Very well, then. If you insist, but only to help this friend of yours. Return as soon as things are sorted."

"Thank you, Father," Zelda said nervously. This would be the first time she took charge of a situation outside her normal purview. Slowly turning to the steps that led down the decks to the arena, she sucked in a breath and sighed, whispering to herself as she clasped her hands against her bosom. "I'm coming, Helmsworth. Hang on just a little longer. Help is coming."

About to follow after their coattails was the seneschal, but before he could scurry after them, Lord Danarus, seated beside the king and flanked by two retainers, questioned him. "And just where do you think you are going? Hmm?"

"Down below with the others, of course. After all, all the armed men will be down at the arena. Who is to guard my safety here after they have all fled?" the seneschal replied, his voice slightly playful.

"Really? Since when were you ever concerned for your safety? Are the king's men or mine not enough to calm your fears?" Danarus pressed, lifting a stern eyebrow where he sat, staring at him.

"That's the thing. Their priority will be looking after you and the king, as it should be. I, a lowly servant of the court, must fend for myself, I'm afraid," the seneschal said, feigning worry.

The king gave a dismissive chuckle. Suddenly, he rose from his high seat, drained his mug, wiped his chin, and signaled his last two remaining guardsmen to escort him to the privy, leaving the High Lord and the seneschal to their dealings.

Danarus watched as the King left and then glanced back at the seneschal, that same inquisitive brow lifted.

"You caught me," the seneschal said, feigning raised hands in a stickup gesture once they were alone. Unable to fight the grin tugging at his lips, he gave in. "Oh, come on, my lord, let me have this bit of fun. I had to say something convincing, didn't I?"

"Are you the high seneschal or a street jester?" Danarus stared at him blankly, his gaze as cold as ice. He was in no mood for jokes.

"Oh, you're no fun," the seneschal declared whimsically. "You must admit, the evening has been quite exciting thus far with its twists and turns. Who knew?"

"Exciting? A man is lying dead in a pool of his own blood and another may join him at any moment, and you say things are exciting?"

"A terrible loss, I admit," the seneschal shrugged, "but I'm a simple creature with simple fascinations, and this spectacle has turned out to be far more entertaining than I would have imagined with the run-of-the-mill tourney. And besides, the princess is right."

"About what?" The old Lord rolled his eyes, reaching for his goblet nonchalantly, taking a sip with little care.

"My dear brother, the Herald, is quite droll at handling the crowd during these sad unforeseen events. He has quite the queasy eye and even more a gutless intuition. Perhaps, I should make sure that the wishes of the princess are carried out properly."

"Very well, if you must insert yourself. Have your fun. I have a strange feeling it will be the last we all have for some time."

"Thank you, and many goddess blessings to you."

With that, the pampered man took flight, leaving the liege lord to wrestle with his own thoughts alone, watching the ensuing debacle happening below in the arena.

"What is your game, son?" the High Lord whispered to himself, his gaze dark and contemplative.

Back at the arena of sand, Jun desperately tried to help Link cling onto life. The boy continued to bark for help for those watching at the sidelines and announcement deck. "Fetch a doctor! He's still breathing! Somebody, anybody!"

The herald was at a loss, his words caught in his throat and no matter how much he mouthed what to say, nothing came out. The crowd grew more and more restless, some were worried for what happened during the final bout and others have already taken their leave before any more ill surprises could happen. Most however remained glued on the spectacle before them. Who was the mystery warrior who flew that killing arrow, and will the Princess's champion survive his own catastrophe?

Without warning, to surprising shock of all, royal trumpets blared heralding the arrival of the royal court and their armed escort. Rows of guardsman wielding large kite shields that reached their heels split the anxious masses like a ship's keel through ocean waves, pushing back onlookers, clearing a path for the princess and her friends to make way to the fallen champion.

Taking this as his cue for action, the Herald also fled from his deck to join them with several attendants following in tow. The princess's gaze met Jun, who quickly wiped the red tears watering in his eyes. Her heart sank seeing the boy look so helpless. Was she too late?

Attendants behind the princess, at her nodded instruction went to fetch Link from off the arena floor. Three of them began the hurry work of removing his armor, but before they could get any further or lay him on a crude stretcher, Jun hollered after them.

"No, you can't, you mustn't!" the boy pleaded toward one of the robed men, who was about to remove his helmet.

"Why?" replied the helper.

"Please, you can't. Just his armor. Leave his helm."

"But why? How can we—" but before he could finish, the princess stepped forward between them.

She could hardly believe the state Helmsworth was in, now that his breastplate and pauldron had been removed. She would have taken him for dead if it were not for the ragged breathing he gasped every few seconds. She wanted to cry for him but knew better than to display such tender feelings before the people. It was then her eyes met the tortured gaze of Jun's, and in that instant, she saw and understood silently. With a firm wave of her hand, she signaled a command for the men not to remove Helmsworth's helm and to administer to him as best they could in the circumstances.

Arasmus could only roll his eyes at the absurd gesture.

Zelda realized after a few moments that whatever aid they were rendering him wasn't working well, and the worry began to really set in. This time she couldn't help but feel frightened for his life, and a bit of panic began to overwhelm her. "There's no time; he's losing a lot of blood. We're going to lose him if we don't do something. Where are the doctors?" she spoke up, moving closer to the huddle of men desperately trying to bandage him in the meantime.

"They will be here in a few minutes, your grace. I assure you, they have been summoned," the seneschal said, now standing beside her. He glanced back to the stands and to her, his mind silently racing with what was taking so long.

Meanwhile, the herald was corralling the watching crowd with his booming voice, assuring them that all would be underway momentarily.

The fear sank deeper and deeper into her bones like a frosty chill that would never see the warmth of day. But before she could let it overcome her senses, she suddenly remembered something, perhaps just a hopeful wish, but hope nevertheless. As if discovering a ray of light, she turned to the Zora Princess beside her, who had been watching as well. "Mipha, didn't you mention you were studying the arts of healercraft?"

"Well, yes, I am, but—" the Zora Princess stammered, her belly a tangle of knots. Suddenly, everyone was focused on what she would say next. They studied every word and syllable as if it were some revelation from the goddess herself.

A bit frantic, Zelda implored again, her voice filled with urgency. "Then, you can help. Please, you must. I beg you,' she asked, just shy of falling to her knees.

"I... I..." Mipha squeaked, her voice barely audible. She wanted to help with all her heart, but dread stirred within her, and her hands quivered under the intense scrutiny.

Arasmus spoke up, feigning concern for the princess's interests. "It shouldn't be too much. It's just a stab wound. It's not even poisoned."

"I, uh, I'm not so sure I—"

Purah's voice cut through the tension, offering encouragement. "You can do this, Mipha. Don't let the doubts win."

Finally, the Zora princess sighed and relented, determination flickering in her eyes. "I can try, but I must warn you, I'm still learning and quite the novice. But of course, I'll try," she said, offering a caring glance to lift the princess's spirits.

"Thank you. Whatever you can do would be most appreciated," Zelda said humbly, bowing her head almost as if in prayer.

Parting through the others caring for Helmsworth, Mipha knelt beside his squire next to his broken body. She closed her eyes, desperately trying to silence all the commotion, the stress, and the growing fear of those around her. The chorus of doubts swirling in her mind were like an immense weight on her shoulders that she needed to be rid of if the magic were to work.

Muttering an incoherent line of phrases in an unknown tongue, Zelda watched as the Zora princess began to summon her gift of healing.

Mipha knelt beside Link, her hands glowing with a gentle blue light as she began to channel her healing magic. "Hold on, Helmsworth. You're not alone," she whispered, her voice soothing and calm, yet filled with urgency.

"Come on, Mipha, I know you can do this," Zelda whispered to herself, her hands clenched tightly against her chest. The early night air was thick with tension, the scent of blood and damp earth filling their nostrils.

The crowd watched in breathless silence as Mipha's healing powers took effect, the light spreading over Helmsworth's wounds. Zelda's heart pounded in her chest, her eyes never leaving the scene before her. She could taste the salty tang of her own tears mingling with the sweat on her lips, before having to wipe them away so nobody would notice.

Arasmus stood by, his expression unreadable as he watched the events unfold. He felt the eyes of the crowd and the princess upon him, but he remained stoic, his thoughts hidden behind a mask of indifference.

Minutes felt like hours as Mipha worked tirelessly, her healing magic weaving through Link's body, offering temporary relief. The crowd fell silent, their collective breath held as they witnessed the struggle.

Open wounds miraculously closed and began to form scars and when all seemed hopeful, suddenly, the ethereal glow began to fade, and instead of a direct connection between her fingertips and Helmsworth, the soothing uniform light bent into twisted chaotic sparks. Mipha looked up, her face a mix of exhaustion and worry. The princess's gift of healing, still raw and developing, could only do so much.

Some parts that were healed began to undo and fearful desperation overtook the young Zora Princess.

It was then, a robed man, dressed as a lowly priest made his way beside her. "It is alright, I am here, and you have done well to buy me the precious time needed to do the rest." The cleric offered to take over, gently moving the frightened girl's quivering hands away. With a nod, he instructed an acolyte to help him dress the remaining wounds as he applied special ointments.

Still in shock, Mipha cried out. "His wound, it's quite deep. I'm sorry princess, my hands were not skilled enough to mend such a gash. Oh, I'm so sorry, the magic, it isn't working. Forgive me, there are far better experienced healers at the Domain, Muzu comes to mind and so do others."

Everything was happening so fast and her words caught the princess of guard, Zelda blinked, "Who?"

Her uncle answered before Mipha could. "The Zora King's most trusted confidant and high counselor."

Quite shaken, Mipha replied further. "My teacher, he is the one I'm apprenticing under. But alas, he isn't here. Forgive me for my weak use of my people's strength, Princess," she said, head hung low.

"Not to worry," spoke up the cleric who to their surprise was already finished dressing Helmsworth. "He'll survive for now," he said softly, looking at Zelda with a mixture of hope and caution.

He then smiled at the Zora princess. "If it weren't for your abilities to hold off the bloodletting, I don't think I would have arrived in time to make a difference. So, I would say, you're the one who truly saved him. So there's nothing to be forgiven for."

Mipha glanced up to meet his encouraging smile, eyes red with worry, unsure if she heard him right. Link's breathing, once ragged and uneven, began to steady slightly and it was then she began to believe.

"I would even go far as to say it was your gentle touch that really did the trick. Clearly, love resides in your hands."

Mipha blushed a faint smile now that all eyes of congratulations were on her, and the cleric continued. "Don't you fret, I'll take him from here. I'm somewhat familiar in your arts and I even trained under Muzu for a time myself. Rest is what he needs now."

Zelda's legs nearly gave out from the relief mingled with renewed anxiety. "Thank you, to the both of you. Thank you so much," she said, her voice choked with emotion.

Jun couldn't help but tug on the robes of the old man. "When will he back good as new?"

"Hmm, I'd say, with the medicine I have, he should be good by the dawn if left to rest undisturbed."

"Then I'm going with you. I have to make sure you do it right." Jun offered, not taking no for an answer. Zelda could have smiled at his determination but the old cleric shrugged it off. "If you insist."

The herald realizing the worst was now behind them, took this opportune moment to clear his throat and speak up beside Zelda. "And what of this mystery assailant who slain the Dragoon?"

Arasmus spoke up on her behalf, noticing she was still lost in her thoughts. "We are not even sure if this mystery bowman is a friend or foe and rest assured, men have been dispatched to find the culprit in either case. So let that be the end of that for now."

The Herald turned to her again, wanting to hear her thoughts on the matter. "And what of the Trial, your Highness? Now that this over with, shouldn't we proceed? The people are watching."

Zelda blinked again, realizing that the entire time the crowds were still gathered and waiting for the main event. "Then commence," she said, uncaringly, her mind still adrift elsewhere.

"That would be marvelous, Your Grace but um—"The herald bowed his head as if offering condolences.

"But what?' Zelda turned to face him, patience wearing thin, yet still wearing a cheerful disposition.

"Your champion, I mean, he was the victor during these preliminaries and well—."

"—And what of him?"

"Well, forgive me for saying this but it's just that he's in no condition to carry on this evening. He needs immediate attention from the apothecary and brotherhood of healers, mayhaps even Zora medicine might be a must if this Cleric is to be believed. And the trials are tonight."

Zelda could have facepalmed herself, remembering that tiny pesky little detail. She shook her head. "No, I will not have him disqualified for no fault of his own."

The seneschal also spoke up, trying to offer reason. "I'm sorry your grace but there's no other way—"

Arasmus folded his arms, his voice swallowing up their own "—You heard the princess; he shall not be disqualified."

"My lord?" Both the Seneschal and the Herald both asked.

"The trials will just have to resume on the marrow after her champion receives his rest and healing," he boldly declared on her behalf. "Surely, the people can wait a day."

Zelda could hardly believe what she was hearing though nevertheless went along with it. She gulped, trying to summon the authority to make such a declaration. "Y—yes, the Trials will just have to resume on the marrow. Hopefully, Helmsworth has recovered his strength by then and if not, I will grant you your wishes to begin without him."

"Very well," The Herald relented with a shrug. And with that he turned to face the people awaiting in the stands. With his booming voice he raised his hands and relayed the princess's decree. "It has been decided that in the spirit of fairness and what has transpired this evening, the Trial of the Flame will commence at the turn of day, on the marrow."

It was then, mid-speech did he feel someone gently push him aside, It was the Princess. Eyes ashine, she glanced up at all the people. From nobles to perched in their high seats to the commons along the fences, she found the strength to address them.

"My dear beloved people of Hyrule, I know that this news wasn't what you wanted to hear this evening. I know that we all have been waiting eagerly for this milestone in our history with joyful anticipation. That our future's destiny weighs in the balance in these next few days. But I ask thee now, a plea for patience and for one more day on this Champion's behalf." She said, pointing to Helmsworth body on the sand being cared for by the helpers.

"I know this breaks with centuries of tradition, but I ask this in the spirit of fairness so that we may have a true victory by the end of the Trials," she said, the words to say escaping her lips.

The crowd fell dead silent save be for the whipping flames of torches in their sconces. The Princess' belly pitted, and she began to waver as she searched for the right things to tell them. But just as she was about to let the doubts win, a single clap reverberated among the stands. Soon, one clap became two claps and suddenly a wave of applause swelled among the people.

Humbled by their acceptance, the princess braced her hands against her bosom and spoke again. "I thank thee all for your graciousness and with that, I promise that as Heir Apparent, the trials, when they commence will be one to that legends are made of. Let us retire from this place and let the feasts begin!" she finished with a humble curtsey. By her royal decree, droves of people began to clear the stands as they made their way to the party pavilions, makeshift markets, and camps.

With that business resolved, the princess turned her attention back to her friends and the healing cleric.

"We are ready, Your Grace, whenever you are. To take him back to the castle where he will be taken care of." The sagely man offered.

With a nod the princess granted their leave. The attendants listened and carefully lifted Link onto a stretcher, carrying him away with the Cleric guiding them along the way.

As the princess' friends cleared out before her, all that remained standing in the arena was Jun, still looking on as they hauled off his Sir. Zelda spun to face him curiously. " Is everything alright, Jun?" the princess said, offering him a warm and inviting smile.

Jun nodded. Wiping his eyes yet again and as he was about to speak, something or someone caught his attention from among the stands. A lone figure hiding in the shadows. Frozen in his gaze, Jun couldn't speak.

Zelda stepped closer, ever so kindly beside him. "Jun?" she turned to face where he was looking at but couldn't see what he saw and the boy shook it off, speaking up.

"It's nothing, sorry. It's just that—"

"—You're worried about Helmsworth, huh?" Zelda asked, leaning over to meet him face to face.

"Y—yes."

"Well, don't you worry, he is in capable hands now, I am confident. How about I go along with you to wait with him?"

Jun nodded. But then instantly regrated it. "Actually, I uh—"

"—What is it? Is something else the matter?"

"I just remembered that I have to fetch Shywind," Jun said. "She'll want to be there too when he wakes."

"Who?" Zelda questioned, unsure of this girl's name. Helmsworth has never mentioned her before.

"My master's trusty steed."

"Oh, of course." Zelda chuckled softly.

"He'll be wanting her by his side when he's ready. I won't take long. I'll meet you there."

"Oh, okay, then" Zelda said, sort of confused by the boy's sudden change of heart.

Jun stepped nearer and tugged on her gown. "Promise me though that you'll keep a close look after him until I arrive. Please."

"I promise," she said, this time leaning to offer him a hug. "You're a good squire, Jun. one who remembers to keep his duties even at a time like this. I'm sure, he'll be proud of you when he wakes up."

Jun only nodded. And with that a remaining retainer of guardsman escorted the princess back to the castle, leaving Jun alone in the eerie quiet of the arena.

He was awash in a mix of emotions as he stood their alone to contemplate his feelings. Could he really be caring for this Knight? But, then again, he did save his life. There's no arguing that. He couldn't be bad like the others if he risked his own life for his, right? Why would he do that if he was evil like the rest? And then there was the princess with her warm embrace that could have only harbored feelings of kindness and welcoming. They were nothing like the stories he heard about or what he experienced with others. The boy squeezed and shook his head, restless and torn between duty and friendship.

It was then he was interrupted. It didn't take long until after everyone left that Jun heard a cold round of applause come from an illusive figure rounding a shadowy corner. The man came from behind him, offering a series of delayed mocking claps that echoed throughout the dim and silent arena.

The slender man chided him. "A stirring performance …or am I to think those tears are real?"

"Shut up," Jun defended, quickly resolving himself to look tougher than he was.

The man held his hands up in a gesture of playfulness. "Hey, I'm on your side remember? No need to pretend anymore, we're alone now."

Jun could only look away, somewhat disgusted by him.

"You know, a thank-you would be nice. Your new friend was careless and would've botched our plans if it weren't for what I did back there to save his worthless skin. That Dragoon nearly ruined everything. You owe me." The man then revealed as if out of thin air a puff of smoke in hands a shiny, small, sickle-like dagger. The boy's mind seemed to be elsewhere.

"Don't forget what we are here for and don't be getting any ideas," he said, followed by an awkward pause. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?" the man interrogated, wielding the dagger to glisten in the boy's face.

Jun just ignored him, still stewing in his thoughts.

"I shouldn't be worried about where your loyalties lie, right?" the man insisted.

Jun looked away again defiantly.

The man vanished the dagger in a small cloud and pressed firmly against the boys shirt. "Don't forget who they are, what they did to us, to you! These hylian scum deserve every bit of what's coming to them. Their reckoning will be soon."

Jun shoved him. "I know, okay! You said it yourself, I'm convincing."

"Yeah, perhaps a little too convincing for my liking," the man said, dusting himself off.

Jun shoved past him again, this time bolting away to leave the arena. "Just stay away and let me do what the sensei has asked me to do!"

The man could only glower as he also slipped away, trusting that the lad will have the courage to do what needs done when the time came. Destiny was uncertain and only time will tell where the lines will be drawn.

Jun ran to where the stables were, hoping to find Shywind there. Thoughts of dread were still swirling in his mind that he desperately wanted to shake. Ugh, this isn't the time to dwell on it. Besides, the Trial doesn't end for a few more days anyway, there was no rush to make a choice now. Things might change before then anyway, and maybe nobody has to die, he thought hopefully. Though he knew otherwise. After all, we could all use a few more days.

Authors Note: Short chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. The ending of this arc will be wrapping up soon with the next couple chapters. Let me know your thoughts in the comments, it really helps the story reach more people and inspires me to press on and get these out on time. Until we meet again, I thank you all. Stay well wherever you are in Hyrule.

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why We Failed pt. 16

A Feast to Remember

Finding Shywind was easy enough, and fortunately for Jun, the stablemaster had already treated her to a plethora of tasty delights fitting for a horse—sweet oats, hay, and apples besides. Jun initially worried she wouldn't want to leave her newfound oasis. However, she was a good girl and graciously let the young squire saddle her. He untied her from the post and waved goodbye to the friendly caregiver, tossing a single blue gem for his troubles as he clopped off down the muddy road that led back through the main wall, past the fortified moat, and to the castle. "Just a little longer, Sir. Hang on," he whispered.

Back at the castle gate, Jun encountered a hindrance. Two sentries, disgruntled by not being invited to the festivities at the Queen's Meadow and left to scavenge stale rations instead of enjoying a night's feast, were quite in the mood to delay the lad. "Who goes there? And at this hour?" the slender guard called out from atop the gatehouse that led into the bailey, elbowing his shorter and broader compatriot to have a look.

After all, there was no way in except by their good graces, which meant lowering the drawbridge—a task that took about five minutes, five minutes Jun didn't have. The boy grew impatient, his lack of manners and courtesy getting the better of him. "The name is Jun, and my business is my own. A friend of mine is being cared for here from the tournament. This evening's champion. And you better open up if you know what's good for you. Or the princess will find out!"

"Come into the light!" the man hollered again. Now lit up by the torches which guarded the edge of the bridge, the man only had to take one gander at the boy to make up his mind. There the lad was, saddled atop his plain chestnut mare without even a vestige of a caparison that a lower-class warrior might own. "You? A skinny, raggedy kid knows the Princess? Yeah, and I'm the King. Go home to your mum, kid. The night grows late for stories. Go play pretend someplace else, we're busy. The castle isn't open to the likes of you."

The plump man chided as well. "Yeah, you heard him. Run along home before you find yourself in trouble."

Jun growled to himself quietly, getting even more frustrated. He couldn't believe the princess would invite him to care for his Sir if he wouldn't be granted passage to do so. Something wasn't adding up. "I'm telling you; the princess asked me to be here. By her express command, and since you're not letting me in, that means you're going to be the ones in trouble, not me."

The squire had the right of it, though; she did ask the guards to watch out for a boy coming atop a humble steed. The snag, however, was that another set of guards had already swapped shifts for the night. They didn't relay her request to the new sentries thanks to all the commotion and excitement of the Princess' court returning to the castle abruptly, rushing a dying man down to the infirmary ward. Others injured from the day's lists were also brought in.

The two regular guards exchanged glances, then looked back down at the stubborn lad atop his mare, now unwavering in his stance at the entrance of the bridge. "If you really know the princess, then prove it! And no tricks now!"

"I haven't got any proof on me, stupid! If I did, I would have shown it by now."

"Look, I'm growing tired of your—"

"I'm tired of you!" Jun hollered back. The guard stiffened, about to rebuke him.

"Fine, have it your way," Jun said, shaking his head and pulling the steed around. He knew he'd have no such luck here. He whispered to himself conspiratorially, "I'll find another way in. Their castles don't worry me. I've gotten into strongholds much more protected than this. Such a shame I'll have to leave you behind though, m'lady," he said, running his fingers through Shywind's mane. The horse snorted dismissively.

"Hey, it'll be alright. I'll come right back once I find a way in for you girl, I promise." The horse neighed; this time happy to hear his change of tune.

"But first, I have to find a way in for me. Once I do, I'll find the princess and she'll set things right. And get back at those good for nothing jerks who wouldn't let us pass."

Jun nudged Shywind onward, guiding her away from the gatehouse and into the shadows cast by the castle walls. As he departed, the two guards were having a laugh with one another—one stood leaning against the crenellations while the other sat on a stool, enjoying a flagon of cheaply watered-down red. They both watched the flicker of a brazier, their only shield from the chill wind that night. But their peace would be short-lived, for another visitor came to disturb their quiet evening.

"Hey, someone's coming, stop that laughing," the thin guard remarked to his portly companion, who was enjoying himself a bit too much. He turned to have a look over the battlements, but the night was dark and the clouds hid the glowing, watchful face of the moon.

"What now?" the stout guard grumbled, listening to the sounds of hooves on cobblestones coming closer. This time, the commotion was coming from within the bailey itself, from the inner castle it would seem.

"Sounds like a lot of somebody," the sentry realized, snapping the visor of his half-helm shut. "Quick, on your feet before someone sees us lounging about!" he barked to his friend, who was astonishingly slow to rise.

"Who goes there!" the first guard shouted below, this time to what appeared to be a mass of around twenty soldiers, half of which were Dragoons and the others Royals. They were escorting several women, one of whom appeared to be the Princess of the Zora herself, along with a frighteningly tall and beautiful Gerudo woman. The procession halted as they reached the gatehouse.

Rushing to the front to see what the hold-up was, the young Lord of the Stonelands followed by one of his lieutenants galloped on horseback. The commanding Dragoon spoke on their behalf to the two guards at the gatehouse. "If I have to hear you say, 'who goes there' one more time, I'm going to knock you off this wall with my crossbow. Haven't you recognized me by now!? I've been coming through every day now, at all hours, for a week."

Both sentries gulped. "M-my Lord of Draene, forgive us. The night grows dark, and we didn't know you were coming."

"And why should that matter?" barked the lieutenant again.

"Because it is our duty, Sir, m'lord, I mean," the man corrected, stammering like a fool. "T—to stand fast against any who would dare to penetrate these walls. And to track the comings and goings of all those who pass."

"The only thing that's going to penetrate tonight will be my sword through your thick skull if you don't hurry."

Arasmus rolled his eyes, listening to his commanding Dragoon take the lead. The two guards froze atop the gatehouse as if they were face-to-face with a Lynel. A Lynel would have been preferable, to be honest.

The Dragoon roared at them again. "In case you haven't noticed, we're already in the castle, you half-wits! Now let us out so we can be on our way!" The Dragoon's patience wore thin, like the last scrape of butter on bread. Some of the court ladies being escorted couldn't help but giggle at the guards' silliness when faced with authority. "Now, drop the bloody bridge before my liege here has the princess confine you both to a year's service of solitude on Snowpeak Mountain. And be snappy about it! My lord and his guests are expected by the King himself."

"Y-y-yes, Sir, I mean, M'lord! Right away, M'lord!" they said, fumbling about themselves trying to remember their courtesies all the while hastening to raise the gate and lower the bridge. During the whole ordeal, as the squealing reels spun, loosening the chains to drop the bridge, Mipha lowered her hood and meekly spoke up to the two guards who were frantically following orders.

"Beg your pardon, but has a young squire passed through here yet?" Mipha asked, but heard no reply. The guards were in a frenzy of hurrying before any more punishments could be levied at them. Furthermore, Mipha had such a sweet, low voice that could easily get lost in the chaotic hums, creaks, and rumblings of lowering a drawbridge and raising a portcullis. Those beside her could barely hear her too.

"Beg your pardon," she tried again to no avail. It was then Arasmus saw her feeble attempts and cued his subordinate to announce on her behalf.

"Are you in the habit of not listening!?" roared the Dragoon again at the two men. Instantly, they froze in place.

"S—sir?"

"A Princess is here is trying to have a word with you, and you're being extremely rude by ignoring her," the Dragoon growled, his eyes narrowing with irritation.

The fatter man blurted out before his companion could reconcile, "But that's not the princess, that's just some Zora woman—"

"—It's the Zora princess, you imbecile," the Dragoon cut him off sharply.

"F—forgive me, forgive us," the guard stammered, shocked and regretting the words that had flown from his lips. He collapsed to his knees and disappeared from view.

"How is she to speak to you if she can't see you?" hollered the Dragoon, his patience at its wits end.

Realizing his friend was indeed slow to understand, the thinner guard kicked him to rise. His head popped up into Mipha's view like a gopher from its hole, just between the gap of the crenelation. "M—my lady, I mean, Your Highness," he stuttered, his voice trembling.

Mipha couldn't help but smile gently. "What I wanted to ask you before this fine sir took it into his hands to get your attention was whether a young squire perchance tried to come through this way. The princess is expecting him. It is her Champion's squire from today's tourneys, and it is quite worrisome that he hasn't arrived yet. So, I ask you, good men of the watch, have you seen such a fine lad?"

The two guards paused for a moment and whispered in each other's ears. "No way could she be talking about that skinny runt from earlier, right?" one of them muttered.

"Yeah, he was no squire," the shorter one concurred, sure of himself. "He didn't even have a tabard. And if he were a true squire to some knight, he'd at least have a sigil to bear of his master."

The tall and slender soldier cleared his throat and, proud as ever, declared, "No, M'lady, there has been no such dignified squire come through here that matches that description, only a scrawny lad who wasn't even riding a stallion."

Mipha blinked, unsure if she heard him right.

"But don't you worry, we sent him away. Did so me-self. There will be no beggars of the castle tonight, not under our watch, ain't that right, Burt?" the man finished proudly, nudging his companion to nod in agreement, which he did.

"That's right, Urn, we stand guard, ever faithful during our watches! Sent him away, we did."

Mipha spoke again, her voice gentle and uncertain. "Oh, that sounds just like him, actually. Skinny, about this tall?" she said, using her hands to indicate his height. "Are you certain that wasn't him?"

"Yes, and he was just like T—" the man started to repeat aloud but lowered his voice to a whisper just short of realizing. "—That, and we sent him away," he muttered, his grin fading to a nervous frown under his helm. "Oh my," he gulped.

His partner panicked before he could spill the beans and yanked on his ear to whisper in it. "Goddesses be good, that was the Princess's squire. We need to find him and bring him at once before she finds out it was us that denied him."

Mipha squinted, trying to hear better in the darkness but a sudden rumble of clouds off in the yonder muddied their words. "Say again? I think I lost what you said in the distant thunderclap there."

"Well, what do I tell the Zora Princess?" Burt asked, desperate for an answer.

"Just say, we haven't seen him. When they leave, we go and find him, yeah?"

"Yeah, alright then," he whispered back before turning to face Mipha, who was waiting eagerly below. "I'm sorry, Princess of the Zora, but we haven't seen any squire, but as soon as we do, we will make sure he treats with the Princess straight away."

"Oh, alright," Mipha said softly to herself, shrugging to the others. And with that, Arasmus took charge again of the procession and led them back out from the castle to the pavilions on the Queen's Meadow. Without a moment to lose, both guards bolted down the steps and out from the secret door which exited the castle wall into the nobility district, to hunt for the mystery long-lost squire.

Inside the confines of the castle, the princess trailed by two guardsmen followed a torchbearer down stone steps which led deep into the belly of the dungeon lair. There at the long end of a wide corridor lined with cells was a large doorway to a chamber.

"This way, Your Grace," croaked a hunch-backed old woman in worn robes. "Your champion has been laid to rest here."

"Thank you, Bethelda. You do your kingdom a great service," Zelda offered with a grateful smile.

"Our aim is always to please." Bethelda placed the bright torch into an iron sconce with a loud clank and shuffled away. "I'll leave you to your matters now."

The guardsmen halted, awaiting further orders.

"Wait here for me, I shan't be long. I just want to make sure he will be alright," Zelda said, turning back to them before heading through the threshold.

Inside the chamber, which looked like an old cellar likely used for interrogation in the old days, now served as an infirmary ward. It was stacked wall to wall with shelves carrying ancient remedies, potions, ointments, and fascinating medical contraptions. Not to mention several tables used for surgical procedures.

"Ah, there you are, Princess, just in time too," breathed the old cleric from the arena. Two assistants fussed about, discarding soiled bandages and a washbasin filled with bloody water. Zelda's spine tingled at the sight; she'd never seen such blood before. It was a massacre.

"All is well now," the cleric smiled. "You can rest easy; he will survive. He just needs some rest."

Zelda blinked, shocked by the news, expecting to hear the worst. From what she saw, she was sure he was a goner. She shook off the worry, breathed a sigh of relief, and faced the old man while he wiped his dirty hands on his apron.

"Has the boy come while I was upstairs dealing with trivial matters?" she inquired.

"You mean that squire? Not that I have seen, but should I keep an eye out for him?"

"See that you do. I mustn't stay long. I'm expected back with my father and the rest of the court at the feast. They won't be able to begin unless I'm there—but oh, oh Helmsworth, do recover soon," she said, turning to face the young warrior lying motionless on the table. Then suddenly as she watched him for a silent moment, curiosity got the best of her, and just as she was about to take a quick gander under his helm, a voice hollered across the room.

"—Sorry, I'm late!" Jun burst in through the door, startling Zelda so much she spun around faster than an Octorok on an ocean wave, her flowing blonde hair whipping the air.

"Hey, no peeking! I promised him that no one should remove his helm," Jun said proudly, almost wagging his finger.

Zelda blushed but swiftly composed herself. "I was doing no such thing. I was merely loosening his strap so he could rest more comfortably, that's all."

Zelda then realized something, and her eyes widened. She glanced quizzically at Jun, then at the entryway, and back to the squire again. "Jun, how did you? Where did you?—"

"—Oh, I was delayed by a pair of dumb guards, but don't worry, I got in. It's no big deal. I also managed to get Shywind onto the grounds too. Not hard at all," Jun said nonchalantly.

"Wait, what? You got in? Dumb guards?" Zelda fumbled the words, hardly believing what she was hearing.

"Seems your friend here, Princess, is quite capable. Good thing he's a squire and on our side!" the cleric jested.

Jun interrupted, seeing Helmsworth. "Am I too late? Will he be alright?" Questions tumbled out from the boy before he frowned and turned to the cleric with demands. "What magic did you cast on him? I swear, if you made him more sick, I'll—"

"—Magic?" the old man chortled. "Come lad, I would never. I merely dressed his wounds and applied some healing ointments crafted by the Zora of Polymous Mountain. It is quite potent stuff. However, he will need a potion when he wakes though."

"What he needs is Yi—I mean Sheikah medicine," Jun insisted.

Zelda's brows lifted. "Jun, what do you know about Sheikah medicine?"

"I dunno…" the boy replied coyly. "But I heard their magical ways are far better than silly Zora, that's for sure."

Zelda chuckled softly. "But Jun, the Sheikah haven't practiced magic in many centuries, if not longer."

"Well, all I'm saying is that my Sir needs to be ready to compete tomorrow in the final trial of the flame, and I along with him to help," the boy said, crossing his arms.

Zelda's eyes glistened with the flicker of candlelight as she saw the determination in the boy's face. She leaned in to meet him. "I'm sure Helmsworth is honored to have you as his squire. In fact, I just know he'd want you well rewarded for your services today. How about you come back to my pavilion this eve and share in the festivities and feast. I promise you'd enjoy it. We have all manner of entertainment, and I'm sure you could do well with a hot meal in your belly. You can also stay in my quarters with my ladies in waiting as my honored guest on Helmsworth's behalf."

"But what of Helmsworth? What if he wakes?" Jun asked, clearly torn.

"Unlikely, lad," the cleric interjected. "The princess is right; what your master needs now is undisturbed rest. But don't you worry, my liege, I will have him good as new on the morrow."

The princess nodded thankfully at the old man before facing Jun again.

Jun stewed on the idea for half a heartbeat but shook his head stubbornly like a child. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I mustn't leave my Sir. My place is here. At least, until he wakes."

Zelda was taken aback by his response but also moved by his devotion. With a smile as warm as the hearth nearby, she relented happily. "Very well, then if you must, you can stay here as long as you like. Tell Helmsworth if he wakes that he is welcome to join us as well if he can manage it. And with that, I leave you to your master."

Zelda stepped closer to Helmsworth one last time as he lay still. With a squeeze of his warm hand, she said her silent farewell before leaving the infirmary.

The princess had to return to her quarters high in the tower before heading back to the pavilions. The entire ordeal took an additional fifteen minutes, during which Jun had just left the dungeons after speaking to an awakened Helmsworth who had fallen back asleep.

Back on the wall, the two sentries had given up their search. "I swear, Urn, we looked everywhere. No such luck. If that was the squire, he's long gone by now."

Out of breath from their exhaustive search, the fatter one concurred. "I know, Burt, wish we'd been told he was coming… would have saved us the trouble."

Hooves clopped on the pathway again leading from the bailey, drawing nearer. Burt stiffened. "Somebody's coming."

Urn whined, hopping from his stool. "What now?"

It didn't take long for them to see. Escorted by three Royal Guardsmen was the princess herself. "This is it, we're done for. I just know it. See what you've gotten me into," Burt whispered to his friend, his heart leaping into his throat. "She's come to punish us herself."

The princess's borrowed stallion halted before the gate, and she sweetly lowered her hood to call upon them. "Good evening, good men of the watch. Could we trouble you to lower the bridge?"

"Forgive—wait, lower the bridge?" Burt blurted before correcting himself.

Urn nudged him and hastened to the wheel and contraptions. "Of course, Your Highness, right away!"

Wasting no time, the portcullis raised, and the bridge lowered, allowing the princess passage. Before returning her cloak to shield herself from the chill, she granted them her thanks. "Many blessings and peace be unto you!" And with that, she disappeared into the night.

Burt gave a gasp of relief, sliding down a wall he was leaning on. The princess made no mention of their mishap, much to their fortune. However, his friend was still watching from the ramparts into the distance. Before he could reset the bridge, he saw another figure approaching from the inner castle—a skinny boy… riding a chestnut mare. "Great goddesses, it can't be!" he slapped his partner to hop to attention.

"B—but, how? How did he?"

Without so much as a word, Jun strolled through the lowered bridge as if he owned the place, giving them a salute of his cap before vanishing into the shadows beyond the bridge.

"Impossible." Urn gulped. Burt had had enough, fainted, and collapsed into his friend's arms, leaving his partner to pick up the pieces. "Burt, get up! Get up!"

The first thing that grabbed Jun's attention was the smell—a rich, tantalizing blend of roasting meats and sweet pastries. Then came the alluring music and glittering performances of mummers, weaving their magic and dances between tents and stalls. While the commons remained outside the fences erected to separate the nobility, they too reveled in the evening's wonders from their gathering spaces.

The princess decreed that no one should go without, ensuring there was plenty for all in the coming days. The crown provided everything they needed, and though the common folk dined on wild boar rather than suckling pig, or coal-charred squab over plump peacock roasted in its plumage, their bellies would be satisfied, nonetheless. Even their simpler fare was a rare treat tonight.

The night air carried the delectable aromas of desserts baking in a nearby kiln, wafting through and tickling Jun's nostrils. He could almost taste the tantalizing sweetness of strawberries, cherries, and caramelized figs. His mouth watered, and he had to discreetly wipe the drool from his chin before anyone of importance noticed. Initially unsure about attending such a grand event, his growling stomach soon made the decision for him, transforming him into a squire on a mission—to eat.

He made his way towards the Royal Rotunda, a massive tent so grand it could easily hide a small castle beneath its canvas. Gallant and pristine banners snapped in the wind, heralding his approach. Even on a night this dark their majesty was a sight to behold. Nestled near a babbling stream offering fresh Zora water, and adjacent to other high-status tents, the Rotunda was a absolute spectacle.

Jun watched, mesmerized, as kitchen lads basted and twirled pigs on spits, the buttery crackle of their crispy skin as they popped when the exotic herbs and juices drizzled over them was music to his ears. Fishermen delivered their catch to the cooks, who turned them into baked delicacies encased in salt, while pretty serving maids rolled small barrels of the finest ales and wines just begging to be drunk. The night was a dazzling array of splendor, the likes of which his young imagination could only see told from the dreams of others.

A guardsman recognized Jun and offered him passage through the picket fences, obliging him to tie his horse nearby.

His belly growled louder, reminding him just how long it had been since he had a proper meal, let alone a steaming hot one. The anticipation built with every step he took towards the grand tent, his senses overwhelmed by the sights and sounds.

Once under the flap, he was greeted by smiles, double takes of those whispering in ears and even some inquisitive chin rubbing from high borne men and ladies. Jun made his way to the Royal table which sat at least twenty people on a raised dais, though he didn't count to make sure. Sheepishly the boy was unsure where to go as the Guardsman who led him into the tent was of little help. Luckily, his small shape caught the princess's eye, much to her delight.

Gleefully, she raised her hand and waved him over. "Jun, you made it! Right this way. I saved you a place," she said, her eyes shining with excitement. Jun tiptoed over as graciously as he could, trying to remember his manners.

"And who is this young lad? Your new cupbearer, My Dear Princess?" remarked a pompous, plump, middle-aged lady with tacky brunette hair, who notably needed a pillow on her chair to be eye level with everyone else.

Her comment caught Zelda's attention, but she remained polite. "Oh, he is no cupbearer. On the contrary, he is my most honored guest this evening, aside from Kafei and Ajuel—who strangely have not arrived yet." As she prepped the boy's seat beside her own, she glanced over the feast, searching for the star-crossed lovers.

"Not a cupbearer, you say?" the old lady inquired, pressing the matter further. "Then where is the boy from, and whose house does he hail from?" she asked, lifting a monocle to her eye to search the pavilion.

"Oh, he is of no house of great esteem, nor comes from a long lineage which, no doubt, you can name and list throughout the centuries until we all died of boredom, but—" Zelda deflected, leaning close to whisper to Jun, "Not that it matters, of course," before returning to face the prissy woman. "He has something much more to offer. He is a squire to one of the finest, soon-to-be knights of the realm."

"Indeed, I'm sure," the lady said lifting up her nose, sizing up Jun like an insect that needed to be squashed.

Jun sat swiftly to avoid more expectant and curious gazes. Though most were persnickety, some were welcoming, notably, the princess' friends. It was in that moment, an attendant walking by in a hurry brought a dispatch for the Princess' eyes only. The boy curiously watched as her emerald gaze wandered over the parchment from side to side. With a sigh she handed back the paper to the bearer.

"What is it?" asked Urbosa, seeing the dour look on the princess's face.

Zelda shook her head. "I guess Kafei and Lady Anjuel won't be dining with us. It appears she has fallen ill of the belly and is hoping to make their debut tomorrow or the day after. Her betrothed offers me their apologies. I do hope she gets well."

Purah chimed. "That's the girl from earlier, right? The short-haired one?"

Zelda only nodded, stewing still.

"Well, don't let it dampen your night, I'm sure she will be alright. And besides, what better day and luck to have a wedding than on your Ascension Day."

"Yeah," Zelda replied, before shaking her head of the worry only to find the lad's expectant gaze watching her. She put on a smile for him.

Luckily, the first course arrived, redirecting the conversation anyway. The guests eagerly anticipated the noble delicacy. Purah clapped excitedly when one of the cooks ordered the servants to unveil the platter. It was one of her favorites—a light dish but tasty just the same. Sautéed Swift Carrots drizzled with a dash of spicy peppered honey next to a bed of sweetgrass piled high with an assortment of fresh fruits. Just the thing to open up the palate for what was to come.

Jun, indifferent to the dish and preferring heartier meals, found his attention caught by something else other than food. The girl sitting two chairs away from the princess, this Purah lady. She had white hair like his and red irises also. Glancing beside her, he saw two others with similar features. They looked like him too—at least when he wasn't disguised with brown dye and eye-altering magical tonic.

Were these Sheikah? He had never met one like himself who betrayed their people before. Or were these another group sent by the Sensei to infiltrate? No, that couldn't be. These three were open about their heritage and seemed proud of it. They were also close to the Princess. They must be Sheikah, and if that were so, then he hated them even more.

"Is something the matter, Jun?" Zelda asked, cheerful as ever. She waved her hand over his blank stare to regain his focus.

Jun blinked; a pout stuck on his face. "I, uh, huh? Yeah, I am... Sorry."

"It's just that you haven't touched your plate, and you've been staring at Purah for a minute now, quite upset. Is something bothering you?"

"P—Purah?" Jun's belly pitted, and he quickly shook his head, a fib teetering on the edge of his lips. He needed to keep it together. "Oh, no, I'm fine! See!" He quickly shoveled a big helping of grassy herbs, some pine nuts, strawberries, and what seemed to be part of the plate, the trencher itself, into his mouth.

Zelda giggled. "It's quite alright, no need to rush. I just wanted to make sure you're enjoying yourself, that's all. And Jun?"

"Yes, Princess?" the boy mumbled with his mouth full.

"We don't typically eat our trenchers." She said, though it wouldn't be the last time.

Jun gulped dramatically. "A trencher?"

Mipha, overhearing, added, "Yes, the barley bread that makes up the plate."

Zelda half-hugged Jun. "It's alright, you didn't know better. Here, I'll help you out as the rounds of dishes come, okay?"

Arasmus, also listening, chimed in. "Well, if I didn't know better, I'd say it's high time for a real meal. No more of this exotic bunny food," he said, raising a goblet, which some others happily mirrored with gulps from their own. "Where can a man find some meat?"

Purah glared, but Impa implored her to hold her temper. Zelda came to their defense as sweetly as she could muster, "Well, I for one delight in the foreign cuisines of other cultures aside from our own. We can learn a lot from them."

"Yeah, learn how to starve, you mean," Arasmus said, eliciting laughter from other Hylian nobility. "My Sweet Sundelion has the most trusting and willing heart among us, ain't that right, Lord High Priest? I mean, you would know best."

Catching the Priest off guard, minding his own business, slurping in the corner, the overdressed man nearly shot soup from his bent beak of a nose. "One could only wish…" the Priest mumbled to himself, a few drips staining his expensive gold and satin doublet.

Arasmus had a gift for reading a room and could decipher exactly what the skirt chaser was thinking. I bet you would, wouldn't you, he thought. "Speaking of, where have you been, My Lord Galivan? We missed you at court—well, some of us at least," he said to the guffaws of others. He continued, "We missed you at the tourney, the escapade with the Princess' champion—You know, a Goddess blessing might have come in handy earlier. Hell, we missed you all day."

"Yeah, I should like to know as well," added Zelda, setting her shiny fork down. "I would imagine the Grand High Priest would want to be here. I mean, what if I gave my ascension declaration earlier and you were nowhere to be found? You wield the scepter, after all."

Galivan's eyes narrowed, but he managed to put on a cheerful face for those listening. "As talented a princess as you are, I'm sure all would have been well. And besides, I was around, just... preoccupied with other duties. Forgive my tardiness, Your Highness. I am at your service now," he said, finishing with a tilt of the head across the table.

Jun glanced up and watched the whole exchange, but before someone else could interject, a short herald made an announcement at the end of the pavilion. "All rise for His Majesty, King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule, Guardian of the Sacred Golden Power and Protector of all the Realm of Hyrule! Joining him to his right is High Chancellor and Lord Paramount of the Stonelands, Defender of the Eastern Gate, Danarus of the House Draene! All Hail!"

Everyone shuffled to their feet, even the Princess, out of fealty to her father. Jun quickly followed suit.

The king and his right hand marched over the long span of red carpet that led to his high seat on the dais. To Jun, it felt like an eternity for him to climb up the steps and find his seat. C'mon, I'm starving, the lad thought. Once settled in, everyone else sat after they bowed their heads, and with a clap and a chortle of excitement from the King, the feast resumed.

Facing his daughter, the King spoke. "Have we missed much? We had some short business to attend to, and it delayed us."

"Well, we just finished the first course," she said. "So, you missed that."

"Then we're right on time," the king smiled, wiggling in his seat, preparing himself for what was next like an overgrown child would. "I always dislike the first course. Too many leaves on my plate for my taste."

Zelda giggled. "Well, that's because it's a salad, father. It's supposed to have leaves."

"I very much agree, Your Highness," Arasmus concurred, gaining support from the king with a head nod. And as if on cue, the next round of courses came.

"Well, luckily for you, my brother, it seems the Goddess has answered your prayers," added Arcturus, the late Queen's brother.

The pavilion buzzed with an air of anticipation as servants glided through the space, balancing silver trays laden with culinary masterpieces. The scents of roasted meats, fragrant herbs, and exotic spices intertwined in a mouthwatering symphony. Candles flickered in ornate holders, casting a warm, golden glow that danced across the rich tapestries and banners that adorned the walls of the tent. All the while, bards narrated the splendor with their merry-making melodies.

Zelda leaned into Jun to whisper, "Shame that Helmsworth couldn't make it. I know he would just love to try the delicacies the castle cooks have to offer," she said with a wistful sigh.

I'm already way ahead of you, Princess, Jun noted to himself, stuffing both pockets with sweet rolls, figs, and hard cheese that smelled like his comrades after a week of no bathing. Link would enjoy these morsels when he came to, and the lad thought it well to save him all the treats he could scavenge from the party.

"But he'll just have to dine in on your tales of it until he joins us for the next feast," Zelda said, before her attention went to the serving maids and attendants ushering more platters. "Ah, here they are. I sure hope you have an appetite."

This time it was char-roasted stuffed peacock, its golden skin crackling and dripping with succulent juices, stewed sausages in a rich, aromatic broth perfected by the Rito, and succulent potato mash smoothened by a blend of garlic, butter, and cream—an exquisite dish in its own right, honed by the Sheikah. The princess, however, always opted for an assortment of vegetables to accompany her dishes but always enjoyed a nice, juicy slab of meat when prepared so wonderfully.

Jun could barely contain his hunger but managed to remember what manners he did have, though they were few and far between. Fortunately, Zelda helped him navigate the feast with grace, using proper etiquette. The night carried on like that for some time, with laughter, talks of the earlier games, Zelda and her friends sparring her words with Nobility, and all the while the courses came and went. The king even called forth the entertainers: the Gorman Traveling Troupe of Hyrule.

First came the fire dancers, their batons aflame, twirling and spinning to the dazzling awe of those feasting. They mixed strange concoctions and powders into the flames, causing bursts of color—fiery reds, emerald greens, and shimmering violets—that lit up the night. Jugglers and mummers joined the fun, tumbling and whirling their acrobatics in a mesmerizing display. Even a fool dressed in motley made mock of the patrons, bravely impersonating the high table, much to their guffaws and pearl-clutching when it was their turn.

Urbosa snorted wine from her nose at the impression the fool made of the Grand Herald, though he was anything but impressed. Zelda's favorite moment of all came when the little jester cartwheeled over to where Arasmus sat, much to his annoyance and her delight. Zelda relished every second of it.

The lord was conversing in what could only be, in his mind, high conversation with one of the other party guests, only to have the fool stand behind him and mimic his every mannerism. When his frustration reached a fever pitch and the jester performed a magic trick, pretending to be the high-born lord, everyone clapped. A white bunny appeared from under a platter lid of Arasmus' next dish, startling him into spilling his drink; just to hop into the arms of the jester, then back onto the plate. The fool proudly bowed to the claps of the princess and her friends.

The prince added to Zelda's amusement with a jest, "Hey! Wouldn't you know—a rabbit for your rabbit food, eh, my Lord? After all, I'm sure you wouldn't mind, didn't you say you're not fond of those kinds of delights?" he said, watching as the bunny paraded around his part of the table, nibbling on what was left of the swift carrots on the bed of greens. "At least, someone is enjoying themselves," he poked fun with a hearty chuckle. This time even the king couldn't resist but bellow a laugh at the absurdity of it.

In the roar of applause, it took everything Aramsus had to feign being impressed by the trick. With a smile as others watched, he jerked the performer by the collar and whispered where only he could hear, "Do anything like that again, and I'll shove that rabbit down your throat." The fool made off with a skip and hop after that, clearly aware of the threat posed.

The night carried on like that for some time, laughs and merrymaking. Now it was time for dessert, Zelda's favorite part of the feast. Each night for the next three days, a certain theme would be given for the final delight of the evening. Tonight's theme was courage, and so the brilliant cooks brought forth a massive, towering cake, multilayered, resembling a steep climb to the top of a high tower once told of in legend, that of Hera and the bravery one must have to complete the task before the dawn rises or face being lost forever in a void.

Each layer was decorated with a different flavor and ornate design: the bottom was vanilla with pillowy puffs of cream, the center strawberry with tarts, and the top dusted and glazed in rare Zonaian cocoa. Zelda's absolute favorite—a treat even for someone of her high station.

"You're going to love this," Zelda whispered to Jun, only to find, to her happy shock and surprise, the boy had already begun eating ahead of her. "Oh, my, I spoke too soon!"

Urbosa chuckled. "Poor lad, must have been starving."

"I know, right?" Zelda agreed, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Though nobody asked for her opinion, the pompous lady from before made her thoughts known. "Well, I think it is unbecoming of an 'esteemed squire' as you say to behave so rudely in front of the princess. Honestly, stuffing his face like that, tsk, tsk."

Zelda blinked, incredulous at the brazenness of the woman's remark. She turned to the lady, noting her unavoidable rotund figure. *Really? And you say he has a problem stuffing his face?* she thought but kept her gentle nature intact. Instead, she said, "Well, he's going to have to eat if he is going to grow up strong like his master, Helmsworth," offering Jun a reassuring smile. The boy had slunk in his chair from embarrassment.

Zelda continued proudly. "He won the tournament today. And this lad helped him, so I say he deserves a reward. And what better reward for a boy than a belly full of treats?"

"Well said, my dear," added Prince Arcturus. "Well said."

The lady was left speechless, unable to rebuttal as she had expected a debate. Zelda's kind eyes met her condescending glares, and the lady removed herself from their presence to another table, her haughty demeanor crumbling.

Zelda's uncle, making his way over to conspire with the King, whispered in her ear first. "You know, I never liked that woman. I've met chamber pots with a better personality than her."

Zelda gasped, desperately holding back laughter. "Uncle!" she chastised playfully.

"Well, it's true," he said with a friendly rub of her shoulder. "But alas, I'm off to save the king."

"Save the king?" the princess questioned, confused. She was unaware of her father's whereabouts.

"Yes, from any more embarrassment," he said with a grin and a slurp from his goblet, sauntering off.

Zelda, caught off guard, hadn't realized her father was drunk in his cups. Far more so than she had ever hoped to dream of, he was dancing with a jester and another, nicer lady from court. Arms locked as one, they whirled across the floor in a crowd of others. Before the Prince could save him, the brawny King grabbed his brother-in-law for a dance, whether he wanted to or not. Around they went to Zelda's amusement.

Pleased, the Princess watched the party carry on. She even caught the stern High Chancellor wearing a smile from time to time. *I guess he isn't made entirely of stone after all. Who knew?*

Finally, the night grew late, and the music began to settle. Many candles were blown out, and the voices softened. Some of the attendees had already departed to their own tents to rest from the day's splendor. Jun beside her gave a midnight yawn, and the sight made her yawn too. Her father was slumped in his chair, snoring like a Hinox.

With a firm nod, Danarus, Chancellor to the King, instructed soldiers to carry the King to his Royal Pavilion to sleep. Four men lifted the chair by its golden handles and took their sire to bed.

Zelda leaned to face Jun, who patiently sat beside her. "Tired?" she questioned the lad.

"Oh, no," he said, stiffening in his seat, pretending to be alert. After all, a warrior never gets weary before a princess. "I was just—"

"It's quite alright," she yawned again, unable to fight it. "It's been a long day for all of us. I myself could do with some shut-eye soon."

Overhearing, Urbosa agreed with a nod, and so did Impa. The princess faced Jun again. "I believe it is time for us to retire. Let us say our farewells and be off to bed."

Jun didn't protest, secretly relieved. He could do with a good night's sleep. It had been over a week since he had honest rest. Lately, he and his comrades on the road were forced to sleep with one eye open to keep watch. But not tonight. Tonight, he was promised a bed. And not just any bed made from loose straw in a barn, but a real bed. Perhaps even a feather pillow if he was lucky. In either case, he didn't care; he just wanted to sleep in peace.

Zelda, on her court's behalf, humbly curtseyed to those remaining before departing with her ladies in waiting. Jun was the last to follow, nearly forgetting he was part of her honorable entourage now.

Inside her pavilion, Jun couldn't believe how massive it was. It had entire chambers separated and sectioned off by veils and curtains. The place was fully furnished with all the amenities a princess could ever want or need. In fact, Jun had never seen a home as big as her tent.

Zelda left him to his partition, a spacious and luxurious area beside hers and her ladies' sleeping quarters. Though it had a bit of its own privacy. There Jun sat on a bed that was as luxurious as any he could imagine. Meanwhile, the princess was at the other end of the rotunda in a separate area, still bathing with the help of her maids before bed.

The princess did say he could go on without her and sleep, and that they would see each other in the morning and greet Helmsworth at first light. Raised tough in his own mind, Jun opted to go without a hot, soaking bath of his own and instead sponged washed with a basin and assortment of rags until he was clean enough to his satisfaction. The princess graciously gifted him a pair of new clothes for bed.

Now ready, the boy eagerly plopped onto the cloud that was his mattress and, with a couple of winks staring up at the ceiling of the tent, the fatigue of the day got the better of him, and he began to doze off into his thoughts.

All the while, questions still stirred in his little boy's mind before he could drift to sleep. Of what must be done in the coming days. But how? How could he go through with it? The Princess and her friends were so kind to him—Especially the Princess. And then there was Link too. The thought that he would have to slay one as sweet as one of those girls to get the job done was more than he bargained for. They're not anything like what he expected them to be. He halfway hoped for them to be cruel, it sure would make the task a lot easier. Alas, they weren't. On the contrary. They were everything he secretly hoped they would be.

The boy tossed and turned over in his new bed, hoping to find relief from his worrisome thoughts and remember the task at hand. To be brave when the time came. However, the cradling of the soft sheets against his skin like a mother's touch softened his wary heart. A heart he could've sworn he lost long ago. It's been so long since he seen his parents, their memory no more than a distant dream, one that no matter how much he relived when his eyes closed, always ended up a nightmare.

Authors Notes: I hope you all enjoy this chapter. The climax is very soon. Just a couple more and we're back to the main story. I do hope that this is entertaining, nevertheless. As always, I love to hear your thoughts. Let me know what you think. It helps me reach new readers. Please leave a star if you like this chapter. Thank you so much. As always, stay well wherever you are in Hyrule.

Chapter Text

Authors note: This chapter is a bit grim and dark at times with some mature themes, but it isn't any more than what you would expect.

Chapter

Why We Failed pt. 17

The Assassin

In the depths of a restless slumber, Jun, Link's young squire, found himself ensnared in a nightmarish memory from his early childhood. Normally, days from his younger years were recollected foggy at best, like from another lifetime, but this one evening was a clear as the nose on his face. He can still feel the heat of the flames pressing on his skin.

The scene unfolded in a village nestled at the foothills of the Dying Mountain Range in the northeastern territory of Hyrule. It was a cold morning, the air heavy with dew brought from an evening mist that weaved through the pines casting a lingering chill that lasted past dawn. Clouds hung low, casting a somber pall over the quaint farms and the meandering stream that had once been a source of life and joy for the villagers.

The village, home to former Yiga members and their families, was a refuge for those seeking a peaceful way of life, away from the strife of war; but was now turned into a place of turmoil and fear. The Draene soldiers of the Hylian army, notorious for their ruthless nature, had descended upon the town with orders to enact the king's justice. Clad in black armor emblazoned with a serpent sigil wreathed in flame, they embodied the intimidating decree they were there to enforce.

A mid-ranking knight, mounted on his imposing steed, addressed the gathered villagers in the square. His voice was harsh, carrying the weight of a grim edict. "Alright, now gather round and listen up you Yiga. My name is Sir Dunk Warrel of Quarry Fort, and I have been sent to parlay and offer you a chance to leave this place un-accosted so long as you cooperate with the orders of the liege lord of the Stonelands and his Majesty, the King. As you may know, the Queen is dead. The king suspects that your kind may be responsible and with that his justice will be poured out upon you. Now Listen up, the commands of my Liege and his Royal Highness are as follows—"

The knightly man stretched out his arm for a subordinate to hand him a long scroll of parchment from out of a cylindrical container bearing the Royal Crest. Clearing his throat, he read the declaration while the people listened to their fate with bated breath.

"—By order of the king and to be enacted by his loyal marshal and servant, Commander of the northern hosts and Lord Paramount of the Stonelands, Danarus of the house Draene, it is hereby decreed that all Yiga and Yiga sympathizers must be treated as enemies of Hyrule and must be exterminated or driven from the Kingdom, if necessary, for the public good," he proclaimed.

The crowd began to murmur in disbelief amongst themselves, unsure if what they were hearing was true, but quickly silenced by one of the standing soldiers who unsheathed his sword to instill fear.

The commander of the Hylian Dragoons continued. "Be it known that anyone caught dwelling within village limits come dawn shall live to regret it. You are hereby ordered to disarm, disband and leave these lands or face the consequences by penalty of death."

The villagers huddled together, their faces etched with fear and desperation, voiced their pleas. "We're not Yiga, we swear!" one begged. "We abandoned those ways long ago!"

Another also pleaded. "We told you everything we know! We're farmers, and decent folks. We've done no harm to any of you."

"Can't you see we're just people trying to start our lives over!" cried an older man, his voice cracking under the strain of injustice. He fell to his knees and bowed his head for sympathy.

Sir Dunk Warrel, unmoved, combed his mop of slick black hair back, clopped forward dauntingly on his steed and retorted coldly, "You've done harm by existing and by dabbling in witchcraft!"

A defiant villager shot back, "It's not witchcraft, it's science, you sad superstitious man! All can be explained if you only listened to us."

"Bah, explain it to my crossbow!" the knight sneered; his contempt palpable, looking for any excuse for violence.

Another villager, a lone mother of two, her voice trembling with suppressed sobs, implored, "None of this is necessary, we will do as you wish! But I beg you, we only need a few days, that's all, please."

Warrel's response was unyielding as he glanced to his men who reaffirmed his position with gleeful smirks of their own. "Out of the question! I was commanded to slaughter each and every single one of you vermin, but I took pity on you beyond your worth. By the goddess you are indebted to my clemency and only by my good graces you are alive today. I have already done enough by offering you leniency to be out by the morrow! My conscience is clear of you."

"But where will we go? What of our children? It's a long journey beyond the borders of the kingdom," the woman begged. "The Scourgelands are an arid wasteland, it would take many days to journey across, if they can even be crossed at all."

"That is none of my concern. You should have thought of that before following your leaders into engaging in treason and open rebellion against the crown. You should be grateful that you were given leave with your lives at all. Which is a lot more than I can say that is in store for them. So count yourselves lucky!"

The air was thick with tension and despair, the scent of morning dampness mingling with the fear emanating from the villagers. The sound of the stream, once a soothing presence, now seemed to mock their plight with its continuous, indifferent flow.

In another part of the village, simultaneously unfolding with the events at the square, was a scene of equal distress and injustice inside a former Yiga man's home. The house, a humble abode filled with memories and tokens of a life once peaceful, was now being invaded by Draene soldiers, exploiting the chaos for their own gain.

The former Yiga, a man whose life had been uprooted, found himself grappling with a soldier. "Hey, get your hands off me, what are you doing? Let go, help!" he cried out in desperation, his voice laced with panic and disbelief.

The leader of the soldiers, a man whose authority was as evident as his lack of morality, barked orders with a cold detachment. "C'mon men, search for weapons."

The villager, his plea tinged with frustration and fear, responded, "I told you I don't have anything. I surrendered my steel and scythe this morning. That's all I had; I swear!"

Unconvinced, the soldier sneered, "You didn't think we'd be fooled, did you? C'mon men, check everywhere. I know he must have a secret stash somewhere in this hovel he calls a home."

As the soldiers ransacked the house wielding torches, the villager watched in horror. "What are you doing? That's my mother's finest pottery! They've been in our family for generations!" The sound of his heritage being shattered was like a physical blow, each crash a painful echo in the once-peaceful home.

Amidst the chaos, one soldier triumphantly held up a find. "Some fine treasure you have here! You silver-haired freaks sure know how to hide 'em. Whoowee! Jackpot! Gerudo topaz and looky here," he called out for his friends to see the loot he found. "Got me-self a shiny silver necklace too!"

The villager's heart sank as he witnessed his possessions being loaded onto a horse drawn cart. "Why are you loading it into the wagon!? You're not searching for weapons, you're robbing me!" The bitter realization was as cold as the morning air seeping through the now-broken windows.

"Yeah? Well, better consider it a warning," retorted the leader with a malicious grin. "You heard the commander. We'll be back on the morrow, and if you're still in this house, it's you who they will be carrying out to the wagon," he said to devilish laughter of his fellow dragoons, who were making off with spoils.

The despair in the villager's voice was palpable. "I can't possibly be out of here by then."

"The king's orders and Lord Draene's command say to exterminate you all—Or expel you from the kingdom. So, if you're not on the road and your way by this time in the morning, you're dead."

"But what about my land? The farm? I can't possibly sell my house that fast, why, I don't even own a wagon, you already taken it. A move like that is expensive. It takes time, please, I'm begging you. And what of my wife and children, what will they eat and drink for the journey? It's a long and treacherous road through the Windy Pass. Many of us are already sick due to the winter already upon us. Please, have mercy."

As the man pleaded for his land, his family, and their future, the cruelty of the soldiers was unyielding. "Sir Warrel has given you enough mercy by sparing your worthless lives! How and what you do with your people is your problem! You knew this day would come, and yet, you decided to settle where you didn't belong!"

"Why, sure, you can sell your house." Another soldier said pitifully, listening to the man's plight. "I'll make you a sweet offer for your land right here and now."

"Y-you will?" the man was desperate and couldn't believe what he was hearing. An offer.

"Why, sure I will!" The soldier couldn't keep up the charade and the pity on his face quickly twisted into a mocking smile as he made a derisive offer for the land. "Yeah, one rupee cash. How's that sound? Just sign over the deed!" The others howled in cruel guffaws.

The villager's shock was evident. "One rupee!? You can't be serious? The acres leading up to the forest meadow and the stone mill alone are worth—"

"—I think it's the most generous offer you're going to get," another interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Better take it while it's still on the table."

"Yeah, back at the public square, I hear they're having folks like you sign away their land for free!...That is, if they want their daughters to be safe tonight." Hooted their lieutenant with a wink to his men as he walked out onto the porch. His men following behind in a chorus of sickening laughter.

The air in the room grew colder, the lingering scent of fear and desperation mingling with the fading warmth of the hearth. The villager's last words were a whisper of despair, a plea to a seemingly distant goddess as the men cackled in delight on their way out, reveling in the misfortune of the Yiga people. "Goddess help us…"

Elsewhere in the village and in the heart of Jun's childhood home, a place once filled with warmth and love, another heart-wrenching scene was unfolding as well. Jun, only four years old, was witnessing a moment that would forever burn itself to the inside of his eyelids every time he fell asleep. A cruel memory he'd never forget. His father, Sanada, a former great Yiga leader, was being arrested by other Draene soldiers, his mother and young Jun forced to say their goodbyes under the watchful eyes of the guards.

"Oh papa! Don't go yet," pleaded Jun, his young voice filled with confusion and fear, unable to grasp the gravity of the situation.

Sanada, his voice laced with desperation, requested the guard cordially as he could muster, "Please, could we be alone for a moment?"

"Not a chance, Sanada," one of the soldiers barked dismissively, his tone devoid of empathy.

"But even a condemned man has a right to a few minutes alone with his wife and children," Sanada argued, his voice a mixture of defiance and resignation.

"Not you, Sanada, we know your tricks," retorted the soldier, unmoved by the plea.

"Tricks?" Sanada's wife questioned back at the insult.

Her query was met with a stern order from the soldier, "Yeah, and your time's up."

"Clothes dear, I need clothes. And perhaps a blanket against the cold, perhaps? If it wouldn't leave you and the children in hardship?" Sanada's voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the cruel tension surrounding them.

"Of course. We haven't much left, but I'll find something that'll do," his wife replied, her voice breaking with sorrow.

"Then, never mind. Just a coat will suffice. My warm coat," Sanada conceded, understanding the direness of their situation.

The impatient soldier urged, "C'mon Sanada, enough already, hurry it up, I haven't got all day."

"Papa, where are they taking you?" Jun's innocent question was heartrending in its naivety.

"I'll be back soon, little Juniper, you'll see," Sanada tried to reassure him, a hollow promise hanging in the air.

"Some Yiga Gran Master you are Sanada', lying to the kid." The soldier leaned over to mock. "Hey little boy, your papa is going to be strung up from the highest tree in Serpent's Court!" the soldier cruelly taunted.

Sanada's wife, her protective instincts flaring, admonished, "He's only four and just a child! Would you want someone talking that way to your child?"

"Papa, take me with you! Please don't go!" Jun's plea was a piercing cry, filled with the pure, uncomprehending dread of a little boy.

"C'mon Sanada, you got your clothes now, let's go!" the soldier urged him with a shove out the front door, unmoved by the family's anguish.

As Jun reached out to his father, the soldier menacingly warned, "Back off you little Yiga rat, or I'll run you through!"

"Sheathe that sword away from my son! How could you—" Sanada' wife began, shielding her son from the unruly soldier, her voice a mix of anger and despair.

"Guard! That is enough, I'm going!" Sanada interjected, resigning himself to his fate.

But then, another voice entered the fray — Jun's uncle. "Stop!" he called out.

"Huh? What is it now? What do you want?" the soldier demanded; his impatience evident.

"Take me instead. I beg you. Leave him. He has a family—" Jun's uncle offered himself in Sanada's stead, a sacrifice born of desperation. A man much older and frailer than his younger warrior of a brother.

"What's he to you?" the soldier questioned, suspicion in his tone.

"He's my—" Sanada started to protest, but his brother cut him off.

"I'm his brother."

"No Rosha, you can't. I need you here to lead the others—" Sanada tried to dissuade him, but his plea was in vain.

"Look, if it's Sanada blood you want, then it's mine you can have but spare him. Please, I beg you," pleaded Rosha.

"Hmm… Very well, then, take 'em both," the soldier decided with a grin, his voice cold and devoid of mercy pointing to the other men to clasp him in chains also.

In the dim light of the room, filled with the scent of fear and despair, Jun's small figure stood, witnessing the unfolding tragedy. The sounds of his mother's sobs, the clanking of the soldiers' armor, and the stern voices formed a cacophony that echoed in his young mind. Though his father's promise of reuniting with him lingered in the air, he knew, deep down, that he would never see him again.

The chill of the morning air seeped through the walls, a cold reminder of the harsh reality outside their once-safe haven. In that moment, Jun's world, his understanding of safety and family, was turned upside down. The trauma of this day, the sights, sounds, and emotions, would stay with him, shaping the person he would become.

Back at the square, and with all the prominent Yiga rounded up and loaded onto wagons wearing fetters, Sir Warell, pleased with himself, spat final commands to those left in the village.

"So, listen up you Yiga and listen close. We've arrested your leaders, destroyed your army and now we have your arms. So, now you have my warning," he paused to relish in their defeated faces.

Wearing a disgusted grin of satisfaction, he sucked in a breath and declared. "You are to leave these lands immediately. And I mean immediately with all due haste. Not the next moon turn, not after your homes are sold, not after your baby is born, I want no excuses! Come daybreak if you and your families ain't out on the road and on your way to the borderlands we'll burn your cottages right over your head, you got me?! And just if any one of you is thinking of being brave, do not imagine, do not think for one moment that you will ever see your precious leaders alive again. Their fate is written, their doom is sealed!"

The people were in shock by the decree. The Dragoons, led by their commander, reared their mounts and left, with their prisoners and booty in tow—the spoils of their victory.

The villagers watched as their new masters rode off down the road and into the darkness of the night, taking hope along with them. Jun, his brother and his mother now alone, witnessed their loved ones being trotted off like common criminals in the back of prisoner wagon, never to be seen again.

"No…" Little Juniper whispered, the tears now beginning to stream down his cheeks. "No! I won't let them take you! No!" the little boy ran, chasing after the riding detachment of Hylian troops, in the hopes of freeing his father by some miracle.

"Jun!" his mother hollered after him, her heart sank but she managed to scoop him up into her embrace before he could get too far. Others watched the scene unfold, their eyes burning with sadness as well, and hearts just as heavy. There would be no miracles today, or likely ever again.

"No!" the boy screamed in his mother's arms. "Papa no!"

"No!" Jun screamed, bolting upright in his bed, his limbs flailing against the sheets. The piercing cry echoed through the dimly lit pavilion. His cries jolted the Princess and her maidens from their sleep. Zelda, her heart pounding, rushed to his side. The maidens followed; their faces etched with concern.

"I won't let you hurt them!" Jun's voice was desperate, filled with terror. For a while he raged where he lay, to the shocking dismay of Zelda and her ladies in waiting.

Distressed, Zelda ordered one of the girls in a frantic plea. "Ilia, hurry, fetch some rags and a basin of water, he's burning up." Zelda and her maidens struggled to restrain Jun, their hands gripping his arms and legs, trying to calm him. The boy thrashed and pulled, eyes shut and mumbling incoherent tearful begs of mercy.

The girl came as quickly as she went. The princess immediately soaked a rag in cool water from the bowl, all the while trying to calm her own composure. Her hands trembled as she dabbed his forehead, her touch gentle yet firm.

"Jun, it's alright, you're safe!" Zelda pleaded, her voice a soothing balm against his distress. "You're safe now! I promise! Nobody is going to hurt anybody!"

Jun tossed in his sheets; his strength surprising the princess. Zelda tried to sooth him again with her voice, offering words of comfort as best she knew. Slowly, his delirium faded, and he blinked, focusing on Zelda's kind face coming into focus leaning over him. The warmth of her smile began to pull him back to the present. Worry gave way to relief as he recognized her.

Zelda, able to catch her breath, sighed. "There, there, it's alright. That's it, shh now, relax… It's just a bad dream."

"W-what happened? A dream?" Jun's eyes widened, a hint of fear still lingering. "Did I…?" Afraid that he may have done something—Or worse, say something he shouldn't have while incapacitated.

"Not to worry," Zelda said, her tone calm and reassuring. "You were just having a really bad nightmare. My ladies and I heard you from our quarters. You gave us quite the fright. We were nearly abed when you stirred. We halfway expected to see someone attacking you, but you were alone. You were scorched with a fever, but fortunately—" She dabbed his head again and felt his neck with the back of her hand. His labored breaths were starting to subside. "Fortunately, it has broken."

Her touch was tender, like that of an older sister, a familial comfort he had long missed.

As he fully came to, Jun saw the four of them wearing their silken white nightgowns; each hovering with a worried look. "What—what time is it?" Jun asked, his voice tinged with embarrassment from the midnight outburst.

"Let's see," Zelda cupped her chin, pondering. "It's been about two hours since I left you to rest, so I'd say it's close to the hour of the Owl, or just shy of three hours past the break of day."

"Then that means—"

"—It's alright," Zelda interrupted gently, pressing against him to lie back down. "We still have around six more hours until the break of dawn. So, try and catch a little more shut eye while you can. Don't worry, I'll have one of my best girls bring you a soothing tea. It should help you get back to sleep. And then, I must as well."

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Jun mumbled, his cheeks flushed with shame.

"Oh, no, Jun, never apologize for grief," Zelda said softly.

"Huh?"

Zelda glanced at the three maids present, then back to Jun. "Leave us, and bring the tea please," she commanded. The maidens obeyed, bowing as they exited the room back to their sleeping quarters; one to fetch the potion.

"It's about your parents, am I right?" Zelda asked, her voice gentle.

Jun could only nod, a sniff escaping him, his eyes still stinging from unshed tears.

"I see…" Zelda's voice was filled with understanding. "You miss them, huh?"

Jun nodded again, a hiccup in his voice. "Yeah…"

"Might I ask what happened to them? You were shouting all manners of things in your sleep, but not much made sense."

"They were…" Jun whispered, hiding his face from her. "They were murdered yearsago." His voice was cold, the weight of his words filling the room with sorrow.

Zelda's heart ached at his confession. She hadn't expected such a tragic answer. For a brief second, her soul felt a pang of deep empathy as she saw the sadness in his shivering. The pale moonlight shone through the veil of the tent, casting a soft glow on his young, grief-stricken face when he turned back to face her. She realized then that despite his youth, he had seen more darkness than she ever had. For when she saw his eyes, there was far less innocence than in the reflection of her own.

She gently placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. Following a long and deep breath, she confided in him. "My…my mother also died when I was just a child too." Jun hesitated to reply, listening to what she might say next. Zelda continued, "Though my mother wasn't murdered, and I'll never know the heartache of injustice of the likes you feel, I do understand having feelings of grief from a terrible loss. For many long years I tried to bury that grief…"

Jun sniffed, this time feeling bad for bringing up the subject, however he wanted to hear what she had to say. He could hear the distress in the princess' voice at the recollection of her mother and how much it saddened her. The glow in her face seemed to fade and her eyes began to mirror the heartache shone in his own. "And did you ever?" he asked.

Zelda, a little lost in the remembrance, blinked when he spoke and glanced at him blankly.

"Did you…ever bury the grief?"

The princess shook her head. "No, but I have come to understand my pain and in that, I have found some solace. And in time, you too might find a degree of peace too. I'm deeply sorry for your loss and the terrors it brings you. I won't press you further on how it happened. Not until you're ready to share."

Jun nodded at her words and Zelda continued. "But also know that you don't have to keep that burden to yourself. You are so young to hold such darkness hidden away in you. When you're ready, let someone else also bear the load."

"W—who?" Jun looked up to her, wiping the tears away from his eyes.

"Well, you have me for starters and, don't forget, Helmsworth. I'm sure he would want to know his squire better and to help him in any way he can." Zelda then cupped his cheek with her hand, her touch gentle and soothing as a midnight stream washing away a burning fire. "You're not alone anymore."

Jun could only offer a slight smile in return, feeling better at the thought of what she said.

A long silence ensued after, her sweet thoughtfulness only to be interrupted by one of the maidens returning. "Sorry to disturb, but the tea you requested, Your Highness."

Zelda pulled away and reached for the warm concoction from the girl. "Here, Jun, drink this Moonshade Elixir. It's brewed from a mix of Blue Nightshade and Moon Berries. Our clerics are quite adept and creating potions. It will rest your weary heart once it takes effect, I promise."

The young squire took the drink and gulped what he could as Zelda and the maid watched. The princess then stood up and spoke a final word on the matter. "Rest easy now, Jun. May you find comfort in your sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

Jun, mumbled just as she was about to exit the flap of his entrance. "T—thanks, Your Highness."

Zelda smiled and with that she departed back to her quarters with her attendant. Jun laid back on his soft, down pillow, and stared above through the crack of the tent, beyond the pale moonlight and to the only twinkling star in the sky, hoping without hope he would indeed get a good night's rest. It didn't take long for the potion to take effect and he fell fast asleep.

However, his young wish would go unanswered, and instead of sweet dreams of what may come finding him, past nightmares ensued, and in that sub-conscious moment, all he could wish for was the dawn.

The air grew tense as shadows danced around the stone mill, the fading sunlight casting eerie glimmers on the innocent faces of the Yiga villagers. Broken, the people were gathering their belongings swiftly as they could while others conversed what they should do next. Hardly anyone agreed and even now, a few fires were still smoldering from the homes that were burned as warning to them. Little Jun, his brother and mother were one of the frightened among them.

It didn't take long and the debate one what to do next came to an end. At the edge of despair, a consensus was reached. They must flee and be on the road at first light, prepared or not. For the perils of the borderlands were not as fearsome than if they overstayed their welcome.

But before Jun's mother could plan their exodus with the others, the harrowing sound of hooves trampling ground resounded down the road. A whisper of unease snaked through the air as the thunder of steps of grew louder heading toward their small village again.

"Who could it be?" A villager pondered aloud.

"It could be others who are coming to join us," another offered, not wanting to fear the worst.

"No, it's the Hylian army, I just know it. They've returned to finish the job." Panicked another.

"Shh, quiet, you're frightening the children." Jun's mother said.

"Yeah, didn't Sir Warrel say, we have until the morning, it's hardly twilight." One of the older men insisted hopefully. "Surely, he wouldn't break the peace, right?"

Unfortunately, it didn't take long and soon their worst fears were realized. Hylian Dragoons were now in plain view down the road past the tree line that twisted into the village. The inhabitants were clinging to the false promise of safety, uttered by the very men that now returned under the veiling shadows of dusk.

"Quickly, into the thicket, into the bushes to hide!" Jun's mother implored, taking no chances and her two sons and some villagers with her.

"They're going to kill us, they are going to kill us," Cried a middle-aged woman in the shadows of the foliage.

"Shh, they'll hear you. Let's wait and see what they came for. We don't know anything yet." Jun's mother whispered, offering her hand to clasp over the mouth of the lady.

As the regiment of around fifty soldiers halted their advance at the edge of the town, a knight armored in black, bearing the red sigil of a serpent on horseback clopped forward. One villager, a glimpse of hope in his eyes whispered to the others huddled near him. They were all hiding for out of fear for their lives. He was just a teen boy. "Nah, I recognize him, that's Sir Caspin, and he promised me we have til' the morrow to leave. That we'll be safe so long as we leave by break of day. We're okay. Don't worry ma'am, everything will be alright. No need to cry, you'll see. He isn't like that horrible Dunk Warrel."

The boy stuck out his neck bravely from out behind a tree and called out to the oncoming riders. "Hey Captain, what brings you back? Peace man, peace!"

The boy's voice got caught in his throat that instant. To his shock he could only gargle incoherent words, strangled by the sharp agony erupting around his neck. It was then he realized he couldn't breathe and was gagging on his own blood. Red began to drench his tunic and he collapsed onto the road. The whimpering cries from the lady in the bushes were replaced by an ear-splitting shriek of sheer terror; revealing their position.

In a few short moments the boy suffocated miserably as his body convulsed before letting out a final gasp to no avail. He was dead. A quarrel had pierced the apple of his throat.

With a sinister grin dancing on his lips, Sir Caspin put away his crossbow and unsheathed his sword, his eyes gleaming in the reflection of his blade with morbid delight as he led the charge. "Alright men, cut down anyone wearing breeches and cut to kill!"

The once peaceful atmosphere turned into a symphony of screams as steel bit through soft flesh, the very air stained with betrayal and despair as blood misted the air. The Dragoons rained down death upon the unsuspecting villagers. The echoes of the massacre reverberated through the once tranquil village, leaving a haunting reminder of the treachery that had befallen it. Jun's mother swiftly wrangled her children and several others before the guards could get to them.

"We have to get to shelter to hide, somewhere they won't find us!" She said, fleeing while others unfortunately met their demise against dragoons in the road. Some of the former Yiga men attempted to fight but to their folly. Farming tools were no match for castle forged weapons and armor. But their sacrifice wouldn't be in vain as the delay bought time for Jun's mother to take others to safety. Or so she believed.

To her unknown dismay, one of the troops caught a glimpse of one of the stragglers and where they fled to. A creepy grin twisted under his half-helm. "Looks like they're going to hold up in the blacksmith's shop! Quick, to the smithy!"

Several of his compatriots followed after him and one congratulated him on the find. "Good eye Port. These Yiga think they're so clever, to the forge shop men!"

Inside the dimly lit smithy, Jun's mother and a group of fifteen terrified villagers huddled together, their breaths shallow and their bodies trembling. The night outside was filled with screams and the sounds of chaos as the dragoons unleashed terror upon the village. Jun's mother clung to a fragile hope that the soldiers would overlook the abandoned shop, focusing their brutality on the more inviting homes nearby. They waited in the oppressive silence, praying fervently for the goddess's mercy to spare them.

Outside, the dragoons circled the small building, its crumbling brick and log walls giving it the appearance of an abandoned workshop. One dragoon, a sinister grin spreading across his face, nudged his companions. "Hurry, we can loose quarrels through the cracks! They're hiding inside and have nowhere to run!"

Panic surged inside the smithy as arrows and bolts began to rain through the narrow openings of the crisscrossed log walls. The villagers screamed and scrambled for cover, their fear mingling with the cruel laughter of the soldiers outside. The dragoons treated the massacre as a twisted game, each kill eliciting howls of excitement.

"It's like herding cuccos in a pen!" one dragoon shouted, his voice filled with perverse glee, his comrades cackling in agreement as they reloaded their crossbows.

The villagers who survived the initial barrage sought refuge behind anvils, overturned desks, and anything else that might provide a semblance of protection. Blood stained the dirt floor, and the cries of the wounded filled the air. Jun's mother lay among the fallen, her life slipping away as she bled beside her two sons.

Realizing their desperate situation, the villagers hurried to bar the door, hoping to buy themselves a few more precious moments before the soldiers could break in to finish the job with their swords.

Amidst the chaos, Jun's older brother, his face pale but resolute, made a split-second decision. He grabbed his baby brother Jun, only four years old, who sat crying in a corner, his small body shaking with fear. He saw a small opening , a break in the foundation where the logs of the wall met the ground. However, the crawl space was too small, even for his nine-year old body. Instead, he reached for Jun and spoke his final farewell. "You have to listen to me, Juniper. This is your only chance. The soldiers are about to break in any minute. The bar on the door won't hold. You must get out of here!"

"I don't want to go. I don't want to leave Mom. We need to stay together," Jun cried, clinging to his brother.

The door of the shop burst open, and five dragoons stormed inside, their swords gleaming with a merciless hunger. The villagers' desperate resistance was met with swift, brutal violence. Screams of terror and pain filled the air, mingling with the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart.

Jun's brother, his heart breaking, knew they had only moments left. He shoved Jun into the crawlspace, his voice a frantic whisper. "Mother is gone, Juniper. She's dead, and soon I'll be too! You must leave now, go!"

"I can't, I can't do this, please don't leave me," Jun sobbed, tears streaming down his face. "Please don't go." His sobs became hushed whimpers as he was pushed out.

"I'm sorry, Juniper, but there's no other way. You can do this," his brother insisted, his voice trembling as he pushed Jun through the break under the foundation. The small opening led to the woods behind the smithy, a slim chance of escape. But Jun hesitated, his eyes wide with horror, watching from outside as his brother turned back to conceal the crawlspace.

Inside, the dragoons advanced, their footsteps echoing ominously. "Bring a torch, will you? Goddess almighty, l can't see a damn thing," barked one of the cruel men. With torch in hand, they reveled in the carnage, surveying the bloodied bodies strewn across the shop floor. Some still clung to life, their bodies twitching in agony. A dragoon methodically finished them off with his blade, ensuring none survived.

"Aye, that's old man Kurota, isn't it? Wasn't he the Sheikah turncoat who was pardoned by Lord Abaster back during the war?" one of the soldiers called out, pointing to an old man crawling on the floor, wounded and trembling with a quarrel lodged in his leg. "We ought to help him, don't you think?"

"I don't care, he's fraternizing with the enemy now, and that makes him a traitor," the leader of the pack sneered. He slapped the torch into another soldier's hand and stepped toward the old man. "Hey Kurota, you sneaky old man, I see you have a crossbow there hiding under your belly. Is it loaded?"

Kurota, mustering all his strength, raised his hands in surrender. "Take it. I never loosed a shot."

"Well, let's just see," mocked the leader with a crooked smile. He held up the crossbow, feigning inspection, before pulling the trigger point blank.

"Oh well, I guess he was right!" he said with evil satisfaction, the laughter of his comrades echoing in the grim scene-except for one, whose expression remained stoic, perhaps even conflicted.

"Y—you killed him." One of the soldiers stammered, disbelief etched on his face.

The leader smirked, handing the crossbow to another. "I should hope so, at that range."

"But he was just a wounded, yielding old man?" the soldier protested, struggling to reconcile the brutality before him.

"He's a Yiga, ain't he? What's done is done." The leader retorted, casting a critical eye around the room to inspect their handiwork. Bodies lay still, the air heavy with death. "Looks like we got 'em all, lads," he declared, ready to order his men back to the town square when another voice interrupted.

"Wait, hold up, there's a young one hiding in the corner there," a Dragoon pointed out, lifting his bow. With chilling precision, he loosed two arrows into the crawlspace.

"Now that's what I call a double bull's eye! One in each socket. Took his head off, too." The leader hooted, his men joining in the menacing laughter, all except for the soldier who had spoken up before.

"But he couldn't have been more than nine years old?" the soldier whispered; horror evident in his voice.

The archer took a theatrical bow, his face split into a grin. "Nits make lice! If he'd grown up, he'd have been a Yiga."

"That's right, he would have," another Dragoon concurred, patting the new soldier on the back. "Don't worry, you're just a bit green, that's all. If you'd seen what these vermin are capable of, you wouldn't shed a tear for them. Now, let's get out of here."

But before they could leave, one Dragoon got carried away with some business of his own at the other end of the smithy. The leader noticed and chuckled, lifting an inquisitive brow. "Hey Farga, what are you doing with that lady's blouse and bonnet over there?"

The soldier pillaged the clothes from the maiden's corpse, careful not to rip the fine fabrics. He left her bare-breasted on the floor, tauntingly laughing as he held up the garments. "I'm going to give it to my sweetheart, I am! The lady who owned it sure isn't going to need them anymore!" The men roared with laughter, except for the new one among them. "These satins are worth a pretty rupee too!"

The young Dragoon knew better, but if he was to be one of them, he was going to have to go along with their cruel, insatiable appetite for bloodshed. So, he forced a smile when the others would glare at him to get in line.

Outside, Jun stood just beyond the crawlspace, unwilling to leave. Foolishly, and with the naivety of a small child, he peeked inside, hoping his brother might have been spared by some miracle.

He didn't want to believe he was truly alone in the world. But as he looked, his worst fears were realized. The bloodbath and the inhuman decapitation of his older brother drained all the color from his face. The boundless depths of dread took hold of him, and he screamed, alerting the dragoons to his presence.

"Hey! One of them has gotten away outside!" the leader hollered. "Quick, around back!"

Jun's scream echoed through the night as he tore his gaze away from the gruesome scene. He knew he had to run, but his legs felt like lead.

Jun forced himself to move. The adrenaline rush clouded his mind, the events blurring into a frantic whirlwind. One moment, he was behind the building, and the next, he was darting through the dense woodland. Instinct took over, and he found cover under a tree near an old rodent burrow.

Flakes of snow began to fall, dusting the forest floor as the dragoons searched the woodland, their torches casting flickering shadows among the thick winter shrubs. The evening grew late, their torches dimmed, and their hunt grew weary.

"Ah, forget him, Farga. Let's go," wheezed Rockwell to his compatriot. "If he's out in those woods, he's as good as dead. Besides, it's getting cold, and Port promised us the first round of drinks when we get back."

"I like the sound of that," grinned Farga, waving his torch one last time to inspect the surroundings. "To be honest, it's the least he can do for slowing us down earlier with his questions."

"Ah, c'mon, give the lad a break. He's new. You were green once too. We just need to toughen him up a bit, that's all," Rockwell affirmed.

Jun lay still as a stone, barely daring to breathe as the soldiers conversed just above his hiding spot. He listened intently, trying to calm his racing heart. The darkness and snow provided just enough cover to keep him concealed.

Their leader approached from behind them, his presence commanding attention. "You did well, men, but Sir Caspin needs us back at the village. No more wasting time on a little Yiga mouse. Besides, he won't last long. If the chill doesn't get him, the beasts will. Good riddance," he said, his words met with nods of approval. He chuckled, adding, "Now, let's head back. Our captain wants us to have a little bonfire."

"The whole village, right?" asked Rockwell.

"Yup, orders are we are to leave no cottage untouched and no log atop another. All of it must burn."

"Whoowee, I can't wait," said Farga. "But um, sir, did the king really order this?"

The leader's thin, villainous lips curled into a cruel smile. "Now, that all depends on which King you're talking about."

"Sir?" Rockwell questioned, confusion etched on his face.

"You were always a slow one, weren't you?" the leader mocked. "Our direct orders come from our Lord Paramount Danarus Draene; however, he has been given license by the King to enact his will and deal out his justice. Now, that goes without saying, they didn't specify which King gave the decree, did they?" He let another chuckle escape, the fog of his breath mingling with the cold air.

It started to dawn on the pair, the realization setting in. Farga's eyes lit up with understanding. "Why, that sly, masterful fox—"

"Careful what you say. He is still our Liege Lord. But yes, we still have the decree set forth by the great ancient King in our hands. Doesn't mean these Yiga filth need to know about it, though. What's done is done and soon will be forgotten. Besides, after what we've accomplished, the Kingdom will be safer for it and the King will approve and perhaps reward us in time. So long as we keep quiet on what happened here today. And if he can be spared the gritty details of it, all the better."

"I see, I see," said Farga, listening intently, the torch in his hand casting flickering shadows on their faces as the leader huddled them close.

"And that is where we come in," continued their leader. "We still have more work to do. Our Lord wants us to handle these vermin quietly, and tactfully. We are Dragoons after all, and we are tasked to do the deeds of light among the shadows."

"Sounds good to me," concurred Farga first.

"Yeah, me too," added Rockwell.

"Alright then, what say you we have ourselves a drink and a Yiga cookout?" the leader winked devilishly before leading them back to the heart of the village. It didn't take long for the glow of their torches to dim and their presence to fade away.

Jun lay frozen, tears mingling with the snowflakes on his cheeks. He clenched his fists, the cold seeping into his bones as the dragoons' voices faded. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think beyond the immediate horror of what he had witnessed. The world seemed to close in around him, the darkness of the forest becoming a cold, indifferent blanket over his small, trembling form.

He dared not venture back to the village, not yet. The boy lay low in the burrow. He was in shock, struggling to discern if this was reality or a terrible nightmare. Maybe, just maybe, he would wake up and find his father, mother, and brother safe, along with all the townsfolk.

To his heartbreak and his shivering recollection in the cold, the dark forest was shattered by the sudden barrage of bright flashes emanating from the village. It was not a dream.

The reflection of the inferno glowed in his teary eyes as homes erupted into pylons of fire, their flames licking the night sky above the treeline. In that instant, all the happiness and love he had ever known in the world turned to ash and smoke, blotting out the moon and stars.

As the Dragoons fled from the village, Jun hurried back, desperate to find survivors. The radiating glow of the burning embers singed his skin, but he didn't care. Someone might still be alive. Maybe even his mom and brother, though deep down he knew otherwise.

He ventured back to the blacksmith shop, clinging to a sliver of hope, only to be met with misery. The roof had collapsed and turned to cinders, burying all those who were left behind. Jun hated the world in that instant. He even hated himself for living while they perished. But most of all, he hated the Hylians for everything they had done.

The dam broke and the little boy cried out in pain, tears streaming down his cheeks as he screamed into the foreboding emptiness of the town. The crackling sound of burning buildings was the only reply. In shock, the boy collapsed to his knees and buried his face in the dirt at the foot of the smoldering remains of the smithy. There, he pleaded to whatever god or goddess might hear him, clenching the cold earth in his hands as he wailed and wept, squeezing so hard that blood dripped from his closed fists. The agony of losing all he cherished persisted for some time, but as the night dragged on, his cries became quiet whimpers. Eventually, the fires dimmed around him, and silence returned. Fatigued and destroyed within, he succumbed to his weariness and passed out.

"Hey, I found one over here. But he's just a little kid," said a stern voice, cutting through the silence of the charred village.

"Is he dead?" another voice asked, stepping closer to investigate.

"No, just asleep. Look, he's breathing," answered another, leaning down. "Poor kid, he must have passed out from the shock."

"Well, wake him. This is no place for him now," commanded a rougher, more authoritative voice.

"Right," said the first man. "Hey, time to get up, kid. Wake up."

Jun felt a stiff kick to his back, where he lay curled on the ground, his arms wrapped around his knees for warmth. The boy slowly rose to his feet, and as he came to, panic surged through him at the sight of the men. He nearly bolted before being grabbed by the leader.

"Hey, hey, easy, easy now! You're okay!" said one of the taller ones, grabbing him by the torn tunic. "We're not Dragoons! We're like you. Except, we came too late. Much too late."

Jun stepped back, albeit more calmly, afraid to speak as he watched seven more men, who had hair just like his, circle around him.

"Are there any other survivors?" asked the leader again.

Jun hung his head, gave a sniff, and shook it silently.

"I see," said the man, cupping his chin. The others suddenly realized the full devastation that had ensued here hours earlier. "Well, you're welcome to come with us. But first, we need to know your name, kid."

"J—Juniper," the boy slowly said, still processing everything that had transpired.

"Juniper, eh? Well, that's a tad too long for my taste. Not to mention it sounds a bit much on the Hylian side, and I bet you don't want anything more to do with them than you have to, especially with what they've done, right?"

Jun barely nodded as the man continued. "I know, from now on, you'll be known as Jun. How's that sound?" he said, crouching to his knees to meet the eyes of the child. "And you can bet, we're going to make them pay for everything they did. I promise you, that if you obey our orders and listen to what we teach you, they'll pay for their crimes."

Jun stood silently, digesting the man's words, giving no answer. The others glanced at each other and then back at the boy who stood amid them in awkward quiet.

"Well, you do want revenge, right?" the man said, standing back and folding his arms. The boy never answered, instead lost in a daydream of sadness staring at the remaining ashes of the town beyond them.

The leader grew impatient. "Ah, forget it. He's gone. Just like the village. Let's move out, men. We have work to do if we're to ambush that Hylian—" his words started to fade from Jun's mind as he continued to reflect on the loss he had just sustained. The boy stood in silence as they began to march away from him, but as they did, something sparked deep inside him. A desire to live on. A desire to get justice for those he loved and lost.

The boy lifted his head and hollered to them. "W—wait, I'll come."

The leader only tilted his head, cueing the lad to join them. "Remember, if you come with us, you are part of our brotherhood, not just by blood, but by oath. In time, when you're older and the grief has subsided, we will show you what it means to enact justice and vengeance. But you must be willing to do what must be done when a task is given. Can you do this, Jun?"

The boy nodded vigorously as he got close to march alongside them.

"Well, men, what do you say? Can Jun join us?" The others all nodded in agreement, and some even gave the boy assurances of their own if he swelled their ranks. Though he was just a small child, they would all raise him to be the man he would eventually one day become.

"Remember, Jun, the task must be done when given."

"I can't, I can't…" Jun whimpered in his sleep, clutching the soft satin sheets of his bed in despair. "I can't do this…I just can't, anything but this…" The young squire tossed and turned, but this time, his anguish remained quiet enough that no one would hear. Abruptly, he awoke to find himself drenched in sweat and breathing erratically. His heart raced as his thoughts churned in turmoil.

I can't do this…I can't. Link isn't like one of them, he's not. And then there's the Princess too. She's so kind to me when nobody ever was. They're both my friends, aren't they? I can't…Unless…unless it's a trick. A clever deception to hide their cruelty for the right time? After all, the Hylians I know were heartless and evil at their core. Sensei says there's no saving them no matter how they may seem.

The boy shook and gripped his head, his mind a battlefield of conflicting emotions. No, they wouldn't….They just wouldn't… I can't do this to them…It's not like how I imagined it would be. I just can't…I….I can't…

But then the insidious voice of doubt crept back in, its whisper relentless. …I must…. I must do this. I will do this…

"It will be done; I promise you…. Justice will be done…." he whispered to himself, the resolve in his voice shaky but firm. The squire then slunk back into his bed to await the dawn which would be soon upon him.

Authors Note: I hope you enjoyed this insight in Jun's background though it may have been a tad dark at times. However, it was crucial for the next part of the story which wraps up this past arc. I'll try and tame a bit of the maturer themes, but this was unavoidable.

Next chapter we return to the POV of Link. I hope you guys are excited to see the climax of this part of the story. Let me know your comments and as always, stay well wherever you are in Hyrule.

P.S. Remember be sure to be subbed for chapter updates.

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Important Authors Note:

Hello friends I would like to first say thank you for reading this fic and I hope it has kept you entertained thus far. However, I will be taking a short hiatus for about three weeks due to IRL work projects I must finish for my IRL Job( I know, what a bummer). That being said, the story will continue, and I haven’t given up, not by a long shot. So, expect a chapter drop some time late July or early August. Afterwards I’m going to shoot for a week and a half chapter upload schedule and be more consistent.

Now then, with that out of the way, I’m sort of conflicted how I should go about the story, and I need your input. Your insight helps me greatly to shape a fun story for everyone to enjoy. I take all your opinions and criticisms seriously as this is a very near and dear project for me. My first question I pose to you, the reader, is—should I do as I originally intended and keep the story at this current pace, or should I pick things up a bit and cut more of the fluff to get us back to the main storyline?

For example, this arc we are in which I call the “Past Pre-Calamity arc” would have around seven more chapters to go before it concludes with the climax (That is if I wanted to keep all my original details in). However, I can try and condense that down to about three chapters, but I will be forced to change the story a bit in doing so. I have a way to make it happen in such a way that it shouldn’t deviate too much off course from what I originally plotted and can be done. And it shouldn’t affect the overall narrative of the story, but it will be cutting out some character development scenes and action. On one hand I want to wrap up this story sooner rather than later but I also don't want to cut out content you all may enjoy. Let me know if you're in it for the long haul or would you rather see a more condensed version going forward.

Let me know your thoughts please. My goal is to write the best Zelda Breath of the Wild Fanfic there is( or at least, do a respectable job) and in order to do so, I need your opinions. Feel free to talk about other things that you would like to see more or less of as well.

: )

Thanks so much and I’ll see you then - Sky

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Authors note: I will also be focusing on a new channel that will be more of an adult nature. Actually it will be purely adult content. Zelda erotic novels and the like. I know, I don't seem like the type, and well, typically no I am not, but I have found myself these past months writing a bunch of material that is 18 plus, not just in the romance department but violence and other things that are just not PG13 in general. I don't understand the policy of AO3 here in general, so I will be making an alternate account just incase, so my main fic doesn't get nuked(unless the policy allows me to have it here). If you're an ADULT and interested you can follow me there when it drops. But like I said, it's for adults only. Please only for adults, and also, let me know if this is something the fandom wants. Because if it isn't wanted, I won't post. I don't want to besmirch any reputation I have if this is offensive. I rather then just keep them to myself. But, if this is something people want to read, and they have read my vanilla fic, they can tell if they want me to endeavor this or not. Don't worry, this isn't taking time away from my main fic, this is just a side project. That fic is my main focus and my primary goal to finish. Also, if you have any ideas of what you want to see, or who you want to see have some….fun together, let me know in a review or a message. ; ) Thanks and let me know.- Sky

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Authors Notes: I'm sorry it took so long. I have been focusing on the audio version of the story and honestly, when I write I have to do a hundred revisions and write, and re-write over and over my initial draft. I'm not a good writer so I have to do this to make sure it's good enough for presentation. It's just the way I operate. My apologies. I hope that through that, you enjoy the finished outcome.

Why we failed pt. 18

Dilemma at Dawn

As the first light of dawn pierced the horizon, beams of sun slipped through a gap in the pavilion's sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow upon Princess Zelda's sleeping form. High in the steeples of the Citadel and the castle rookeries, bells tolled, heralding the day to all the people. Talk about a welcome to the day indeed, Zelda thought with a groan into her pillow. Fortunately, for her, the heavy bells only chimed three times.

Their she lay as warm light kissed her eyelids, slowly pulling her from the depths of slumber. Her golden hair, slightly tousled from sleep, framed her face like a halo.

Zelda's long lashes fluttered as she awoke, and after a long yawn with her hands reaching to the sky, she half-dared to ask for her maids to pull the drapes closed so she can get a couple more hours, or at least a few more minutes of sleep. Alas, she knew better. Instead, her eyes slowly blinked open to the soft, amber glow of the morning.

Today was the first day of the Trial of the Flame. There would be no more postponements. The looming trial of Courage awaited, and if she expected the initiates to have bravery in facing their tasks set before them, then she had little to complain about and should embrace her duty as well.

So, she stretched gracefully, her slender form outlined by the satin white nightgown that clung gracefully to her figure, its delicate folds accentuating her curves and the gentle rise and fall of her breath as she lay, blankly staring to the canopy of the pavilion, contemplating what to do next.

Instead of giving in to the protest of her body which begged for rest and the alluring temptation of a soft bed, with Gerudo sheets and a palatial feather pillow, she sat up against the headrest and with another dutiful yawn pushed herself up on one elbow, and reached for a small, ornate mallet resting on her bedside table. The mallet, carved from dark Deku wood and polished to a sheen, felt cool and reassuring in her hand. With a graceful flick of her wrist, she struck a flat, brass cymbal mounted nearby. The clear, resonant sound filled the tent, a melodic chime that signaled her need for assistance.

Moments later, the heavy curtains at the entrance of her quarters parted silently. Expecting to see her maids, a dark-haired boy entered instead, a servant bowing low as he approached. He was clean-cut, thin and tall as a post, and poshly dressed. He kept his eyes respectfully lowered yet couldn't help but sneak a peek at the princess's beauty, illuminated by the dawn's gentle light. Her elegance as she sat up in her bed stirred uncontrollable feelings in a teen lad his age, the morning sun casting a soft glow on her delicate features and exposed skin. Zelda felt anything but worthy of admiring eyes, and her cheeks reddened, almost daring to use her sheets to cover herself.

"Y—your Highness," the servant spoke softly, his voice carrying a tone of reverence. "H—how may I serve you?" he stammered, bowing low to hide his own blush.

Zelda, her eyes warm and kind, offered a gentle smile as she fought the embarrassment and frantically fixed her unkempt dangling hair with her hands. "I—I would like some cool water, please," she said, her voice as shaky as his. "And um, where are my handmaidens?"

"S—so sorry, your highness, they have gone to finish preparations for your morning and left me in their stead for only just a moment. My apologies, I will get you what you request, right away," he replied hurriedly, his tone deferential.

The servant nodded, bowing once more frantically before swiftly exiting to fulfill her request. Zelda instinctively held her hand to her mouth when he left, exhaled and tested her morning breath much to her shock. Not two steps after he departed did she call out for him from the other partition. "And I would like a hazel twig, sprig of spearmint and a dash of salt as well, please!"

She sighed softly, settling back against the pillows, the faint chime of the cymbal mingling with the servant's footsteps still resonating in the air as she awaited his return. The moment was peaceful, a gentle prelude to the day's tasks and trials. Though her moment of reflection would be promptly interrupted. No sooner than the servant left did he return with two other maidens following after who fussed over to take over.

The boy humbly tilted his head after setting aside the pitcher of water, and the spread of morning essentials. "Forgive my intrusion earlier, Your Highness. I'll be heading back now to the Master of Horses where I belong," he murmured, trying to mask his nervousness.

That's where I recognized him. I remember now, she thought. He was one of the many grooms tasked with taking care of royal steeds at the Grand Stables, of course. She gave him a farewell nod as he departed. No doubt she will be seeing him and many other working lads in the coming days. But she was glad now to be alone with her girls. Now she can remove the bedsheets without the risk of wandering eyes.

Zelda swiftly washed up with the help of her maidens and got dressed in a morning outfit which was more akin to that of an adventurer than the attire of a princess in court, though carried the quality a royal might expect. Her attire was a tailored ensemble which included a fine sapphire bodice, cream undertunic with puffy white sleeves, and beige travelers' pants. Completing her practical yet regal look were soft, knee-high boots laced up the front. Of course, she would have to return in the afternoon to change for a final time and wear a formal gown for the evening; but as for now, this would be suitable enough, she hoped.

Zelda's maiden laced her second boot and now she was ready for the day. But just as she nearly stepped off the dressing stool, she hopped where she stood. "Jun!" she said, startling her maids.

"Oh, my, how could I forget?!" The princess jolted, equal parts embarrassed and excited.

"Where's Jun, has anyone seen him this morning? I must wake him so we can break fast together before I meet with the others."

"Um, My Princess…" one of the girls said sheepishly, glancing nervously at Zelda.

"Yes?" Zelda questioned, raising an inquisitive brow.

"The young squire, well…"

"…?" Zelda's anticipation grew, her curiosity piqued.

"Well, he left leaving no word. In fact, he was gone before the dawn. When we awoke, he wasn't in his partition. It was like he just vanished. He even made his bed before departing," the maid explained, wringing her hands.

Well, at least he has some manners, there's hope! Zelda thought with a smile. She then stewed for a moment and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, that's odd, that he left without telling me. But I guess he may have gone on ahead to see Helmsworth," she mused aloud. "I'm sure whatever duties he has, he is tending to them. After all, today is the first major Trial of the Flame," Zelda then placed her hands at her waist, contemplating the matter more. "Though, I would have liked to break our fast with him, I'm sure he'll be alright. Thank you, Adeline, for telling me. I think we shall go now and see what Purah, and the others are up to."

"Yes, your grace, right this way," Adeline replied, leading the way out of Zelda's quarters, her voice carrying a note of eagerness to start the day.

In stark contrast to storms the night before, the clear blue morning sky stretched endlessly above the tourney grounds, a pristine canvas unblemished by clouds. The air was crisp, filled with the mingling scents of freshly baked bread, roasting meats, and the earthy aroma of dew-kissed grass. The royal camp was alive with the morning hustle and bustle, lords and ladies preparing for the day's events, their attendants scurrying about with trays of food, cups of fresh Romani milk, and intricate garments to try on for the day.

Princess Zelda, dressed in her adventuring attire that blended comfort with royal elegance, was led by her handmaidens through the bustling camp. The vibrant energy of the tourney grounds was sensational, with the clanging of metal from the blacksmiths' forges, the neighing of horses being groomed, and the cheerful chatter of people excited for the day's festivities.

As they walked, Zelda's thoughts were occupied with the hope of meeting her friends Urbosa, Purah, and Impa for breakfast. She looked forward to their company, seeking solace in their familiar presence amidst the politicking of the tournament. Her maids flanked her, their chatter soft and respectful, guiding her with gentle touches and murmured directions.

Suddenly, Zelda's attention was drawn to a scene that made her pause. There, in a makeshift training area, was Lord Arasmus, the lord of the Stonelands. Shirtless and wielding a wooden sword, he was engaged in a mock battle against three of his Dark Dragoons. His dark black hair, damp with sweat, clung to his forehead, and his deep blue eyes sparkled with intense focus. His fair complexion contrasted sharply with the ruggedness of his bare chest, lean muscles rippling under his skin as he moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned warrior.

Zelda couldn't help but feel a mixture of disdain and unwilling attraction. She loathed admitting to herself that his appearance stirred something within her, though however small it may be. His skill was undeniable, the way he deftly parried blows and countered with swift, mean decisive strikes was quite the spectacle.

Arasmus fought with an almost arrogant ease, his movements fluid and powerful. The wooden greatsword in his hand seemed like an extension of his body, each swing and thrust executed with a finesse that belied the brute strength behind it. At the cusp of manhood, Arasmus had the vigor and confidence of youth, barely having seen eighteen summers. His Dragoons struggled to keep up with his relentless assault, their efforts to match his prowess proving futile.

Although she hated to admit she would waste a solitary second noticing his martial abilities, Zelda couldn't help but compare him to Helmsworth. Arasmus's swordsmanship lacked the grace and honor she had seen in Helmsworth the day prior. His attacks bore a savage cruelty, striking his men harshly and employing tricks to outmaneuver them. Helmsworth and Arasmus couldn't have been more different in their demeanor and their talents on the battlefield—like the dueling sides of a coin.

Zelda's maids noticed her pause and turned to see what had captured her attention. They exchanged knowing glances, familiar with her complicated feelings towards the lord. They understood her predicament well. They knew that there was little doubt and after the festival, in all likelihood they were going to be wed when she became eighteen—and how torn she was about it. So, the girls giddily whispered amongst themselves, careful not to disturb her contemplation as they too marveled at the young Lord's abilities.

The princess's thoughts were a turmoil of conflicting emotions. She remembered every condescending remark Arasmus had ever made, every sly smile that hinted at hidden mockery. Yet, she couldn't deny the magnetism of his presence, the way his shirtless form, glistening with morning sweat, exuded a raw, primal allure that was difficult to ignore. I must be going mad, she thought. He's a fop. Surely, a little of last night's wine still having the better of me. Or perhaps, it was something more. She would never know or admit. Perhaps, it was normal for a young lady blossoming into adolescence to get carried away with such…. distractions and uncontrollable feelings.

As she stood there, watching him dominate the mock battle, she found herself begrudgingly admiring his abilities. Aside from Adeline, even her maids were now openly making compliments, trying to stir the witch's cauldron further. Zelda just shrugged and rolled her eyes at their prattling. His fair skin bore the marks of past battles, a testament to his experience and resilience. His deep blue eyes, intense and unwavering, were fixed on his opponents, a predator's gaze that once every so often would make a short glance at her, the connection of their eyes in those fleeting moments sent shivers down her spine.

The scene around them was lively, servants continued bustling with preparations while lords and ladies discussed the day's events over the smoldering embers of campfires, and the general hum of the camp preparing for the trials. The sounds and smells of the morning were a stark contrast to the focused intensity of Arasmus's training. Yet, in that small moment, everything else seemed to fade into the background for Zelda.

Finally, she came to her senses and tore her gaze away, chastising herself for being so easily captivated. With a determined sigh, she turned to her handmaidens. "Let's continue," she said softly, her voice tinged with a hint of frustration. "We don't want to keep the others waiting."

As they resumed their walk, Zelda couldn't fight the intrusive thought of glancing back one last time, her heart betrayed by a flicker of intrigue. She hated that she found him noticeable, hated that he could evoke such feelings in her. Hated that it was true. As she gave in, she caught his fleeting gaze once more piercing right at her. In that instant, the proud lord was caught off guard and was pelted in the arm by one of his subordinates during the distraction.

Zelda's eyes widened at the scene. The stave snapped with a loud crack against his shoulder and splintered onto the shallow grass, stunning Zelda and her maids to what he might do next in retaliation. Yet, nothing happened. He hardly flinched at all. Instead, he just continued watching her as a slow smirk began to tug at his lips. His men halted their assault, bewildered by his strong look toward the princess. His stare made her belly feel queasy. Perhaps she was just hungry. Or, perhaps, he made her uncomfortable. Whatever it was, the Lord finally called out to her as she stood there stiff like a statue among her friends.

"So, were you really going to walk on by without saying good morrow?" Arasmus's voice carried a playful challenge, his eyes still locked on hers.

Zelda could hardly react. Arasmus raised his hands, motioning his men to take a well-earned breather as he stepped closer to her, eyes still fixed on her taken-aback expression.

The princess blinked and cleared her throat. "Um, apologies, my Lord. I assumed you were busy with your Dragoons. After all, you were quite focused, to say the least."

"Until I saw you," Arasmus deflected smoothly, now only standing two yards away.

"Well, exactly, I didn't want to distract you from your concentration, and it seems I may have done just that. My mistake," Zelda replied, trying to keep her tone light and casual.

"Nonsense. If anything, your presence motivates me to do better," he said with a charming grin.

"Well," Zelda shrugged, forcing herself to maintain a pleasant demeanor, "I must admit, the tales about your skill are not without some merit. You are quite the portrait of a hero we all heard from in legend, My Lord." Zelda forced herself to say, her cheerful smile beaming at him. After all, she may have to marry this fop one day, so she might as well make the best of it for the time being. Better for a truce now than be enemies later.

Though the idea of that or being held in his embrace put a sour taste on her tongue. She knew the kind of man he was, or rather what sort of man he wasn't—a decent one. On second thought, mayhaps skipping breakfast might be for the best, she surmised. But deep down she knew better. She knew that wouldn't be enough to cleanse her palate; she feared lunch and dinner might be spoiled as well if the conversation were to continue.

"You're too kind, Princess, and you honor me," Arasmus bowed deeply, arm stretched across his belt in supplication. "But alas, you know as well as I that I am no legend—and, you can say it, my dear, they let me win."

"Sir?" one of Arasmus's men said, unsure if they heard him right, nor did they appreciate the idea that he would imply they allowed him to win when they were trying their best.

"Oh, no, I would never presume such a thing. Not from you. Never." Zelda replied coyishly, tainted by sarcasm. "In fact, I'm amazed you didn't take it upon yourself to join in the challenges yesterday or—today's trials. With talents such as yours, I mean."

Arasmus chuckled, combing a hand through his dark hair. "Ah, well, perhaps I wanted to give others a chance to shine. With me in the contest, it would have hardly been fair at all. After all, the people did come to witness an entertaining spectacle. It would have been over before it even began."

Zelda stared at him blankly, amazed how someone could be so in love with themself.

"Besides, when I wield my blade, it's for real."

Zelda raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with playful skepticism. "Is that so? Or perhaps you're just afraid of being bested in front of such a noble audience? I mean, we wouldn't want to shatter the people's mythos they have conjured up about you now, would we?"

Arasmus's smirk widened, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well aimed, Princess. You see right through me." He took a step closer, lowering his voice to a more intimate tone. "But in truth, like I said, I'd rather save my strength for the real battle to come."

Zelda's pulse quickened at his sudden proximity. He stepped forward without her nearly realizing. The shift in his expression from a smile to a stoic, almost threatening demeanor was unsettling. She pulled her hand away from his touch and took a small step back, regaining her composure. "Well, I suppose we'll have to wait and see if those important battles ever arise," she said, her tone a careful mix of challenge and diplomacy.

Arasmus's gaze softened slightly, sensing her discomfort. "Indeed, we shall. Until then, I'll continue to hone my skills and hope to earn your regard."

Zelda nodded, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. "I'm sure you will," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

As Arasmus stepped back, giving her space, he called to his men, "Alright, break's over. Let's get back to it."

Zelda watched him for a moment longer, her feelings a jumble of irritation and reluctant admiration. Then she turned to her handmaidens. "Shall we continue?" she asked, her voice steady once more.

The maids nodded, and they resumed their walk through the bustling camp, the morning sun warming their faces. As they moved towards the breakfast tent, Zelda couldn't shake the image of Arasmus from her mind. She hated how he could affect her so deeply, how his charisma and confidence seemed to seep into her thoughts despite her best efforts to resist. Is this the sort of spell he has on other girls ? Well, his viper's nectar won't work on me.

Zelda sighed, determined to focus on the company of her friends and the tasks ahead. Yet, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath Arasmus's charming facade and whether he was truly as insufferable as he seemed. Only time would tell, and she resolved to keep her wits about her as she navigated the complexities of court life and her own tumultuous emotions.

Link stirred in the cold, damp confines of the old cellar, his senses slowly awakening to the dank, stale odor of the room mixed with the faint scent of exotic herbs. The stone walls, once an oppressive sight during interrogations from the Rivercross Rebellion, now served as the backdrop to his recovery. The flickering light from a solitary torch cast long shadows across the room, as the stove burned out during the night, revealing shelves lined with ancient vials and jars, a testament to the makeshift infirmary's dual purpose. The distant, muted sound of trickling water from the sewers deep below added to the eerie atmosphere.

As he blinked away the fog of sleep, Link's vision cleared, taking in the details of the room. The slab he lay on was cold and hard, but the linen covering him provided some comfort. His body felt almost completely healed, a stark contrast to the agonizing pain he remembered from the tournament night before. The chamber was devoid of other patients, a silent and unsettling emptiness.

His gaze settled on a figure at the far end of the room. This was not the old, kindly cleric who had tended to his wounds last night. Instead, a man in his twenties stood there, his eyes glinting with an unsettling intensity. Perhaps, an apprentice, Link surmised but couldn't be sure. The acolyte's robes were grey also, yet pristine unlike the old man whose were worn and motheaten. Link couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off-putting about the way he moved, with a deliberate, almost predatory grace.

"Ah, you're awake," the man said, his voice smooth like silk but carrying an eerie undertone. He smiled, revealing teeth that seemed too perfect, too unnatural. "I've prepared a special medicine for you. It will aid in your full recovery. So, you can be rest assured you are in good hands." He turned back to a table cluttered with an array of strange ingredients: rare horns from unknown beasts, blackened roots, a sprig of Nightshade, and the glowing essence of what he could only guess looked like a gelatinous substance resembling Chuchus told about in fables.

"W—where is—?"

The cleric cut him off. "—The old man? Where do you think?" Link blinked back confused and the man chuckled curiously. "Asleep, of course. I'll be tending to you until he wakes."

Link watched warily as the cleric mixed the concoction in a fanciful silver goblet that didn't match any others of the room, the contents swirling into a thick, murky liquid. The man approached, holding the goblet out to him, that same unnerving smile plastered on his face. "Here, drink this. This final brew will restore your strength to maximum."

Link took the goblet, nodding politely. "Thank you," he said, his voice steady, though his mind raced with suspicion. Something about this man felt wrong, out of place. He glanced at the concoction, its surface slick and shimmering ominously. Link sat up slowly, his muscles no longer aching, wondering why he would even need this potion if he was already healed. However, not one to usually question authority, a trait drummed into him while training to be a knight, he put it to his lips about to take a swig when the door swung open again, this time it was his squire, Jun, who burst cheerful as ever. Link sat the goblet aside and watched as the boy bustled in.

The cleric's smile faltered as he watched the exchange between the two, distracting Link from his drink. "It sees you both have much to discuss, I'll leave you two to your matters. Remember, the potion and… goodluck today." He turned and exited the chamber, the heavy door creaking shut behind him.

"Sir, you're awake! About time! I've been waiting to see you all morning!" Jun exclaimed, his voice full of relief and excitement as he rushed over to Link's side.

Link couldn't help but smile at the boy's enthusiasm. "Good morrow to you too, Jun."

"So, they didn't kill you after all!" the boy said, cupping his chin in evaluation. "I guess that's good news!"

"What? Kill me?" Link slunk, taken aback by the notion. "And I'm glad you think so." Link sat up and faced Jun inquisitively. "But, Jun, who would want to kill me here? Have you learned more of the intruder at the tourney yesterday, the hidden assassin?"

"Not really, no." The boy cleared his throat. "It seems he acted alone and hasn't been found. And don't worry, the princess is more than safe." Jun coyishly took a step back and scratched the back of his head, attempting to change the subject. "I did what you asked." If only he knew who the assassin really was.

Link's eyes narrowed, suspicious of his explanation but eventually shrugged it off. The boy has always been a bit on the eccentric side.

"Well, anyway, I'm glad you're better. What say we get out of this place and head back to the tournament?" he suggested, his voice brimming with enthusiasm and distraction.

Link swung his legs off the slab, feeling a slight twinge of discomfort but overall, far better than he had any right to be. His eyes searched the room, looking for his belongings. "Jun, where are my clothes and armor?" he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Oh, them? Don't worry, I've already taken care of them," Jun replied nonchalantly, puffing out his chest with pride.

Link's eyes widened in surprise. "You what?"

"Yeah," Jun continued, clearly enjoying the moment, "I couldn't sleep well last night, so before the sun came up, I snuck out from camp, took them, and got my chores done early. I scrubbed and polished your plate, oiled your linkages and chainmail, and right now I am having kinks from your helm beat out at the smithy. Don't worry, I had a way to pay for it. A promise bit of the bounty you won! I made a deal he couldn't refuse. It should be ready when we return."

Link felt a mix of admiration and exasperation. "Jun! If you took my armor, and more importantly, my helmet, how am I supposed to disguise myself? The princess could be here at any moment and see us leaving!"

"I doubt that," Jun said confidently, waving off the concern.

"Huh?"

"Oh, yeah, she's going to be quite busy this morning. I overheard that one Lord before the sun came up speaking to his men saying that he intends to take her on some long stroll to some Goddess spring."

"A what? Goddess spring? Who?" Link asked.

"That Lord Arasmus jerk, who else!" Jun clarified with a scowl as if he could see him right now.

"But, I thought—"

"—Nope. She'll definitely be busy," Jun said, with an affirmative nod as if his hearsay was gold. "But enough of that, we need to get ready ourselves. I've got all your gear ready for today's trial."

Link sighed, appreciating Jun's efforts but knowing the boy's work had been in vain. "Um, Jun, that's good and all of you to fulfill your duty, but this trial, I won't be needing my armor from yesterday."

Jun's face went pale, his jaw nearly hitting the floor in disbelief. "But I thought—I worked so hard all morning," he stammered, looking as if he was about to burst into exaggerated tears.

Link placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "For which I thank you, but I'm sorry. Pledges are required to wear cadet uniforms for these trials and also—"

"—Huh?" Jun's confusion deepened.

"I also won't be able to have a squire during the test."

"Then what am I going to do!?" Jun exclaimed, his frustration evident.

Link chuckled softly, appreciating the boy's dedication. "Don't worry. Once I get knighted officially, you will remain my squire."

"No, I mean, what am I going to do today if you'll be busy?"

Link smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, for now, you can still help me. There's one last thing for us to do. It's only during the trial itself that I must act alone. Are you up for the challenge?"

"You bet!" Jun exclaimed, accidentally knocking over the goblet on the table, spilling its mysterious contents. "Oops, sorry."

Link's gaze shifted to the spreading puddle on the floor. "You know, I was supposed to drink that, Jun. It was medicine."

Jun dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "It's fine, I'm sure you don't need it anyway."

"How do you know?"

"Well, you look well enough to me. Anyways, why does it matter, you'll be strong enough later for the trial."

Link grunted as Jun folded his arms across his chest. "Pfft, I'm sorry alright, can we go now? Before that strange priest comes back."

Link relented with a shrug, agreeing but not willing to let the boy know. "Okay fine, but once were out of here, first thing I'm doing is breaking my fast. I'm starving."

"You're always hungry, Sir."

"Well, excuse me if I wasn't the one stuffing my face last night during a feast, when he should have been scouting for that mysterious assassin." Link shot back.

"How do you know he was an assassin anyway?"

"How do you know he wasn't?"

"Well, for starters, what sort of assassin saves your skin when a Dragoon was about to do you in dirty?"

"Call it a feeling."

"You know, he is probably on our side," the boy said back confidently.

"And what side is that?"

"I dunno, the good side, I supposed."

Link gave a hint of a small grin. "Well, in any case you should have found out more information during the feast."

The boy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms defiantly and looking away. "Yeah, whatever. You would've done the same if you were there. You didn't see what they cooked up. Not even a Goron could've refused a spread like that. And they eat rocks!" Jun spun back around, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Don't pretend you wouldn't have either," he added, his tone a mix of teasing and certainty. "Anyway, we need to hurry. Although the princess is busy, she may return sooner than we expect."

"Right," Link nodded, a sense of urgency tugging at him. "I also need to see my father too."

With their plans set, Link and Jun quickly made their way to the door, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence of the dungeons. The cold, damp air clung to their skin, a stark contrast to the lively world awaiting them outside. They navigated the dimly lit corridors with caution, careful to avoid any unwanted attention. As they finally stepped out onto the castle bailey, the fresh morning air greeted them, carrying with it the sounds of the ongoing tournament festivities.

However, their plan to make a quick escape hit an immediate snag.

A noisy crowd had formed just outside the main wall that encircled the city, spilling down the road leading to the festival grounds. The Queen's Meadow, unlike the day prior, had seen a major uptick in security—likely due to the bizarre events of the previous day, when a mysterious assailant had escaped detection during the tournament's climax. The tension in the air was manifest, with citizens of all races, ages, and creeds pushing forward, each trying to expedite their entrance.

A Hylian guardsman, his voice booming above the ruckus, shouted orders to the huddled masses. "One at a time may enter through the gates, after they identify themselves! By order of Lord Danarus, Chancellor to the King!"

Link groaned, the rumble of his stomach mirroring his frustration. "Ugh, we'll never make it in time to the mess tent." His knees buckled dramatically, eyes glistening with exaggerated tears. "Not with all this hustle and bustle. By the time we get there, all that's left will be boiled leather—I just know it." The prospect of waiting until lunch just to eat a morsel was nigh unbearable.

In his haze of hunger, Link's focus drifted, and he found himself trudging lethargically through the throng, barely registering the mass of bodies pressing forward.

Suddenly, Jun snapped his fingers, a spark of an idea lighting up his face. "That's it!"

"What's it?" Link croaked, jolted from his daze as he was rudely shoved by a particularly impatient merchant trying to cut in line.

"Hurry, lift me up on your shoulders," Jun commanded in a hushed tone, his voice brimming with urgency.

"What? Are you mad?" Link shot back, incredulous.

"You heard me," Jun insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Do you want to eat today or not?"

Link glanced around, realizing their progress was getting them nowhere. With a resigned sigh, he gave in. The boy had discovered his weakness: food.

"Well, hurry up," Link grumbled, bending down to hoist Jun onto his shoulders. "What are you up to, anyway?"

"Keep still, I'm working!" Jun prodded Link's chest with his boot as if he were spurring a horse into action. High above the crowd, Jun began waving frantically, his voice rising above the din. "Hey! Remember me!" he shouted, aiming to catch the attention of one of the guards stationed at the entrance to the meadow grounds.

The guard noticed him immediately, flipping up his visor for a better look. Elbowing his fellow soldier, who was still barking orders at the crowd, he pointed out the young squire. "Oh, Young Master Jun! Right this way! Come, no need to wait alongside this lot!" The guard's voice carried over the throng, causing several heads to turn in surprise.

Link could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Young Master Jun?" he muttered, glancing up at his squire in confusion.

"I know, right?" Jun said with a proud grin. "About time someone offered us the respect we deserve! See, I'm more useful than just cleaning your armor."

Link, still stunned by the turn of events, shook his head. "Well, right now, you're going to put your feet to good use." He quickly shrugged the boy off his back, setting him down onto the cobblestones.

"Sorry, Sir, but it was the only way to get their attention," Jun said, his voice full of smug satisfaction.

A guardsman, having noticed them, sent another man to part the crowd and offer them a clear path forward. "Apologies, Master Jun," the guard said respectfully as he approached. "Forgive us for not seeing you earlier. Right this way."

"Eh, it's no problem, Urn," Jun replied nonchalantly, folding his arms across his chest with a smug look. "We'll keep this one between us, alright? Your princess thanks you."

Link was bewildered by how effortlessly the young squire had charmed—and possibly intimidated—the guardsmen as if they were his personal retinue. As if already accustomed to such treatment, the soldier bowed his head and ushered them through the gates with deference.

"Ready, Sir?" Jun asked with a smirk, looking up at Link with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Y—yeah," Link mumbled, still at a loss for words. "Lead on."

Jun nodded, delighted by their small victory, and confidently led the way through the bustling crowds, the path ahead clear and inviting.

Zelda and her maids made their way toward the Royal Rotunda, a towering pavilion that rose high above the meadow, its vibrant canvas walls rippling gently in the morning breeze. Around them, the royal camp was a flurry of activity, with lords and ladies mingling with servants as they prepared for the day's events. Attendants were bustling about, preparing horses, shining armor, and carrying trays of food for the nobles who were seated beneath the large tents. The air was thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, roasted meats, decadent cheeses and the crisp, clean fragrance of wildflowers that dotted the grassy grounds.

As Zelda approached, the smell of breakfast filled her senses, making her stomach rumble softly in anticipation. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was. The grand pavilion itself was a sight to behold, with bright tapestries embroidered with the crests of Hyrule's noble houses draped along its sides. Inside, long tables were laden with a veritable feast. Golden loaves of bread sat next to trays of fresh fruit—plump grapes, juicy berries, and slices of exotic hydromelon, imported from the Gerudo Highlands. Plates of flaky pastries accompanied them, filled with spiced apples and cinnamon that tempted everyone with their sugary glaze alongside the delicate aroma of herbal tea wafting in the air.

Zelda entered with her maids, her gaze sweeping over the scene until she spotted her friends—Mipha, Purah, and Impa—already gathered around a table, deep in conversation as they enjoyed their meal.

"Good morrow," Zelda greeted them, her voice carrying a note of pleasant surprise as she approached. The warmth of the sun on her back and the inviting aromas of breakfast filled her with a rare sense of ease. Her friends looked up, their faces lighting up with cheerful smiles as they welcomed her.

"Morning, Princess! You're just in time," Purah said with her usual enthusiasm, waving Zelda over. "We're going over today's news—astrology and all!" She held up a copy of the 'Hylian Herald,' fresh off the press, tapping her fingers on the page with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Zelda's curiosity was piqued as she took her seat. "Astrology, you say?" she echoed, settling into her chair as the enticing scents of breakfast surrounded her like a warm embrace.

"Yeah, the sort of thing my forebearers used to swear by. There's a science to it, you know," Purah replied, her voice carrying a hint of seriousness beneath her playful tone. "I've yet to figure it all out myself, but it's fascinating."

Zelda nodded, intrigued by the idea of the stars holding answers to the mysteries of the universe. She cast a quick glance at the sumptuous spread before her, but her interest remained fixed on what her friends were discussing.

Purah, never one to keep things to herself, handed Zelda the large rectangle of parchment. "Here, take a look. Today's fortunes are particularly interesting—especially for someone with choices to make," she added, a playful wink accompanying her words.

Zelda accepted the paper with a polite smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she feigned a scoff. "The Herald?" she teased lightly. "I much prefer the Royal Gazette."

Purah's eyes widened in horror. "What? You actually read that rag?"

Zelda struggled to maintain a stern expression, but her facade quickly crumbled as she broke into a grin. "Only joking. I wouldn't be caught dead with it. Just trying to get a rise out of you this morning."

Purah sighed in exaggerated relief, clutching her heart. "Phew! For a moment, I thought you'd lost your mind. Next thing, you'll be telling me you've accepted Lord Arasmus proposals after all! Glad to see you're still in good health, Princess."

Zelda flinched inwardly at the mention of Arasmus, a pang of guilt twisting in her stomach. If only Purah saw a glimpse of my face this morning, I'd never hear the end of it. She forced herself to brush it off with a smile.

Impa, who had been quietly sipping her tea, set down her goblet and chimed in. "It's bad enough we have to deal with their anti-Sheikah sentiments spreading like wildfire. Now, their lies have even reached the castle halls. Someone needs to put a stop to their slander before it goes too far. We Sheikah are already struggling to convince people of our loyalty, and this only makes it harder without their print adding logs to the fire. We hardly have any influence at court at all anymore, save be for our ceremonial position, of course."

Zelda placed a reassuring hand on Impa's shoulder. "You have me," she said gently. "And you and your people are the most loyal I know."

Impa smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. "I know, Princess. But do they?" she asked, her voice heavy with the weight of centuries of mistrust. Pondering the preconceived prejudices that pure Hylian bloodlines have of her kind.

Zelda, ever the peacemaker, dismissed the reach of the paper with a wave of her hand. "The Gazette's language may be incendiary at times, true, but it shouldn't be taken seriously. Let them rant and rave—it's just nonsense to stir up trouble. The Yiga haven't been a real threat in years, and their fearmongering is just a tactic to rile up those who are already inclined to believe their blind rhetoric."

Zelda then offered her a comforting smile, one that radiated warmth like a campfire on a cold night. "Trust me, their words are toothless. Besides, Purah said it herself—nobody reads that nonsense anyway. The Herald is the paper of the people I say, and if that's not enough to convince you where my loyalties lie—I'd be betraying another friend of ours if I were caught reading the Gazette."

Urbosa, who had just arrived and was finding her seat among them, caught the tail end of the conversation. "Oh? A friend, you say?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement. "Do tell. This I have to hear."

Zelda's smile widened, and Adeline jumped in before she could respond. "Oh, and I bet it's our friend with that adorable red hat too! Am I right, Princess?"

"Right you are," Zelda replied with a grin. "So, you see, Impa, I would never entertain their dribble or give them the time of day. Most people can see right through their hearsay."

Impa relented with a shrug. "If you say so, Princess."

"What friend is that?" Mipha asked, her curiosity piqued.

"The postman, of course," Purah teased, nudging Zelda playfully. "He fancies our Princess here and moonlights as a courier for the Herald as well."

"He does not," Zelda protested, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

"Moonlight for the Herald or fancy you?" Urbosa inquired casually, raising an eyebrow as she sipped from her mug.

" Both. And he does too," added Adeline before the princess could answer. She was Zelda's most trusted handmaiden after all. "She's just being modest."

"As do half of the boys of the kingdom, I might add," Purah declared, standing dramatically beside the table, her voice carrying over the lighthearted giggles of the others as Zelda blinked back the preposterous notion.

"Will you two stop?" Zelda demanded, her own laughter bubbling up despite her best efforts to remain composed.

"I will—as soon as you save some for the rest of us," Purah quipped with a wink.

Zelda sighed, rolling her eyes toward the heavens, silently pleading with the goddess for patience on their behalf.

"Oh, come now, we're only having a bit of sport with you, dear Princess," Adeline ribbed her again.

Purah teased changing the subject back to the paper lying before Zelda.. "But you must admit, now that you're of age for courting, you'll have some tough choices to make soon."

As if I have a choice, Zelda thought to herself. She knew they knew as much as well, and they were only just trying to be kind to her situation. Princesses hardly married for love if ever. They were gameboard pieces like in a game of Keaton and Cuccos; to be used strategically to form new alliances between the great Hylian houses and strengthen established ones. Nothing more, nothing less. Why should she think her fate would be any different. After all, did her mother truly marry for love? Or was it another arrangement?

Purah prodded Zelda's mediating form as she sat silently like a statue, rallying the other girls to listen. "And speaking of which, what does yours say, eh, hmm?" She said, pointing to the Herald laid out before her.

"What does what say?" Zelda blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

"Your stars for the day, of course!"

"Oh, well, I haven't read them yet," Zelda replied with a soft chuckle. "Give me a moment, and I'll let you know. I'm sure it'll just be the usual vague predictions."

Zelda hoped for anything but that, though she didn't want her friends to suspect the curiosity fluttering in her heart. As they turned back to their breakfast, Zelda unfolded the parchment, its ink fresh, bold, and bright. Her eyes quickly sought out the astrological section, scrolling past the other signs—the Dragon, the Korok, the Lynel, the Fairy, the Keaton, the Boar, the Steed, the Wolfos, the Deku, the ChuChu, and the Molduga—until she found the entry for the Owl, her sign.

As she read, her heart skipped a beat. For the first time in her life, the words on the page felt as though they were speaking directly to her, as if the stars themselves had aligned to deliver a message meant just for her. Often, growing up she had read the daily prints and felt little to nothing from them, but today was unlike any other. Her eyes flowed over the text.

The Owl (Kaepora) June 29 - July 27

Today's Fortunes: The wisdom of the Owl is your guiding light today, casting clarity on choices that may shape your destiny. As the trials of valor unfold, remember that strength is not only in the sword but in the heart. Your intuition will serve you well, but the stars urge you to consider all angles before making a decision that could alter the course of your destiny . Today is a day for observing and reflecting—let your keen insight lead you to the path that best aligns with your true self.

Romance: The celestial bodies align favorably in matters of the heart. Two figures stand before you, each offering something different. One is a presence of undeniable power , whose confidence may charm but also overpower. The other, a figure of quiet strength and loyalty may be closer than you realize, their true nature hidden beneath layers of mystery. They may not yet reveal all their truths, but there is potential for a deep and meaningful bond.

The choice lies with you: follow your heart, but do not ignore the wisdom that has always guided you. Be mindful of how you present yourself today; a reserved demeanor may conceal your true feelings, but sometimes open vulnerability can be the better path. Lastly, t he connection you seek most could be within your reach, but only if you risk everything to open your heart and allow the bond to strengthen.

Lucky Number: 3

Meal that becomes you : Spiced Apple Tart – a dish that balances warmth with subtlety, perfect for nourishing both body and spirit. The perfect treat. May your presence do the same to others around you.

NOTE: Avoid overly rich or decadent foods today, as they may cloud your clarity of thought.

Advice for the Day: Observe and reflect before you act and speak . Today's tr ibulations will test more than just valience ; it will reveal the true nature of those around you. Trust in your wisdom to discern the path you should take, both in the trial and in matters of the heart.

Personality: Today, your thoughtful nature will serve you well, but do not let caution prevent you from seeing what is right in front of you. Balance your wisdom with the courage to make decisions that align with your deepest values.

The princess gracefully folded up the page, her fingers lingering on the edges of the parchment as she placed it beside her trencher. She muttered the words that had struck her most deeply under her breath, the whispers barely audible yet heavy with meaning.

" A figure of quiet strength and loyalty… the connection you seek could be within your reach… But only if you risk everything…" Her thoughts drifted to Helmsworth, the enigmatic knight who had fought with such valor in the preliminaries. She had cheered for him, drawn inexplicably to his quiet strength, yet she knew so little about him. The idea of risking everything for something so uncertain went against her better wisdom, yet the pull was undeniable.

And then there was Arasmus—confident, skilled, and undeniably attractive in a way that both intrigued and unsettled her. She had watched him sparring in the training yard earlier that morning, his shirtless form exuding a ruggedness and power that made it impossible to look away. He was everything a suitor should be, according to her father and on paper, yet the prospect of courting him when she turned eighteen filled her with a cold emptiness void of any emotion. Would she choose duty to her kingdom over her own heart?

Her stomach growled softly, tearing her away from her ponderings and reminding her of the breakfast laid out before her. Zelda reached for a slice of warm bread, spreading it with the herb-infused butter that melted almost instantly. She took a bite, savoring the comforting blend of flavors—the crisp crust giving way to the soft, airy interior, enriched by the creaminess of the freshly churned butter. The taste was simple yet exquisite, grounding her in the present moment even as her thoughts continued to linger on the uncertainties of the future.

"So, anything caught your eye?" Purah's teasing voice broke through Zelda's reverie as she leaned in, her grin as mischievous as ever.

Zelda quickly pushed the newspaper aside, masking her inner turmoil with a practiced smile. "Oh, just the usual guidance from the heavens," she said lightly, her tone carefully casual. "It seems today will be a day of choices."

Purah groaned, clearly not satisfied with such a vague response. "You don't say? Because we never have to make choices on any other day," she quipped, rolling her eyes dramatically.

Impa, ever perceptive, arched an eyebrow as she studied Zelda's expression. "Choices in what, I wonder? That's what really matters," she mused, her voice thoughtful. "With the trials today, there will be much to observe and decide."

Mipha, who had been quietly sipping her tea, spoke up softly, her serene eyes betraying a hint of curiosity. "I'm sure Helmsworth will do well today. If that's what you're wondering. You seem to think highly of him, Princess," she added with a knowing smile, as if she had already read Zelda's thoughts.

Zelda's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Helmsworth's name. Mipha had always been supportive, even encouraging her interest in the mysterious knight, though Zelda knew her friend was also fond of another knight—the famous Link, whom she herself had yet to meet. She had heard wild stories about him, tales that painted him as a rebellious rogue and even a womanizer. A young prospect who had a girl from every tavern from here to Hateno. At least, that's what they spoke about him. But, Zelda knew better than to trust hearsay. After all, Mipha warmly regarded him with such quiet admiration, and that held more weight in her mind than any secondhand rumor.

Zelda offered a small, reserved smile. "He fought bravely yesterday. There's something… noble about him, even though I've only seen half his face."

"Well, he certainly does has a charming air of mystery about him," Mipha agreed, though her thoughts briefly wandered to Link. She had seen Link's bravery firsthand years ago and couldn't help but wonder how he would fare in today's trials.

"Well, it sure does make things exciting, that's for sure," Purah chimed in, her mouth full of banana bread. "And I bet the half you saw under the helm was handsome too, or you wouldn't be thinking so much about him."

Mipha hadn't seen Link that morning either, but she knew he would be competing in the trials. She looked forward to witnessing his courage once again, believing him to be someone entirely separate from the knight Zelda admired.

Zelda's heart fluttered at the thought of Helmsworth, but she kept her expression neutral. "We'll see how the day unfolds," she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Princess, you'll have to make a decision eventually," Impa said, her tone laced with a knowing smirk. "Your father and the rest of court will be watching you now more than ever."

"Yeah, who's it gonna be?" Purah pressed, swallowing her last bite of banana bread with a playful grin. "Is it going to be this Helmsworth, Arasmus… the stable boy? Someone's going to have to win your favor, and soon."

"Purah, the stable boy is four and ten," Zelda retorted, shaking her head with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Hardly suitor material."

"So what? You're six and ten. What's two years anyway?" Purah countered, tilting her head thoughtfully. "I mean, he sure is tall enough for you, isn't he? Why, you could stack Helmsworth and Arasmus atop each other, and they still wouldn't match his height," she exaggerated, earning a round of laughter from the others.

Zelda rolled her eyes at Purah's exaggeration. "He's a stable hand," she said pointedly.

"Yeah, so? And this Helmsworth is just an enlisted commoner, probably doomed to eternal service in the guard—that hasn't stopped your gaze from lingering on him, has it?" Purah teased, leaning in closer as if sharing a scandalous secret.

"There's just no winning with you, is there?" Zelda said, shaking her head with a smile that was equal parts fondness and frustration.

"Nope," Purah declared proudly, puffing out her chest. "You ought to know me by now."

Before Zelda could retort, Mipha suddenly spoke up, her tone more earnest. "Uh oh, speaking of winning, it says here that there's a royal gift in store for the victor of the trials. Is that true, Princess?" she asked, pointing to the page of the newspaper.

Adeline, who had been quietly listening, chuckled. "Yeah, they'll earn her favor, that's what. A certain soldier we all know, hopefully."

Mipha's thoughts instantly drifted to Link, wondering if he might emerge as the champion by day's end. What would happen then if he met the princess? What would Zelda think of him? What would he think of her? Would things change?

Zelda set her slice of toast down with a dismissive wave of her hand. "The trials aren't about winning my favor, but the peoples. It's about proving who has the most courage to protect Hyrule," she replied, deflecting the question. "As for the royal gift, I have yet to find out myself what it is. Only my father knows what's in store for them."

Impa nodded thoughtfully. "One thing is for certain, Princess—courage comes in many forms. I have a feeling we can learn a lot from today and that it will reveal much more than skills with a blade. There are other types of trials other than the battlefield. The heart for example is such a place."

Zelda blinked, her gaze meeting Impa's as she tried to decipher her cryptic words. The others seemed content to ignore the deeper meaning, focusing instead on their breakfast, but Impa's words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken possibilities.

As the table fell silent, allowing the girls to continue their meal in quiet contemplation, Zelda couldn't help but feel the weight of the decisions that lay before her. Her friends were right—she was of age now for courtship, and with every passing day, her eighteenth birthday drew nearer.

The words etched from the stars echoed in her mind : "The choice lies with you: follow your heart, but do not ignore the wisdom that has always guided you…" She was drawn to Helmsworth's quiet strength, but there was so much she didn't know about him. And then there was Arasmus, the suitor her father and court favored, whose presence she could not ignore, even if his personality left much to be desired.

Purah whispered in Zelda's ear, tearing her away from her thoughts. "Speaking of choices. Here comes one right now, ugh."

Zelda glanced up from where she sat, her gaze meeting Arasmus as he approached. This time he was fully dressed for the day. That was hasty, Zelda thought. What it is to be a man and get ready in a moment's notice. I will never know the feeling.

Arasmus strolled over to their table with the air of a man who owned every space he entered, his eyes immediately locking onto Zelda. "We meet again, my dear Sundelion," he announced, his voice smooth yet dripping with the confidence of someone who assumed his presence was always welcome.

Zelda stiffened, her serene morning shattered by his sudden arrival. Under her breath, she muttered, "All too often, I'm afraid."

Arasmus, catching her barely audible words, tilted his head slightly, his piercing blue eyes narrowing. "Hmm?"

Zelda quickly composed herself, shaking off the momentary lapse. "Oh, nothing," she replied, her tone polite but distant. "I merely said that it seems to happen quite often these days."

He smirked, sensing her guarded mood. "Well, you'll be happy to know that I'll be out of your hair until midday. Forgive me, Princess, but there's some short-notice business that I must attend to."

"What business?" Zelda asked, trying to keep her voice neutral, though her curiosity was piqued.

"Nothing that would concern you, my dear," Arasmus responded with a dismissive wave. "Just the usual mundane sort that needs tending. I do lead a lot of men, you're aware. However," he continued, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, "we can continue our planned rendezvous in a more private area of your choosing, just before the trials begin. There is much I would like to discuss with you."

"Rendezvous?" Zelda whispered, her brow furrowing in confusion as she tried to recall any such arrangement.

Why yes, didn't your father tell you?" Arasmus asked, his own confusion briefly flashing across his face before he masked it with a charming smile. "Yes, he remarked something about some secluded pool or spring of the Goddess that you like to visit from time to time. I'm not quite sure but was hoping you might know the place."

Zelda, catching herself, quickly nodded. "Oh, yes, I remember now, silly me," she said, playing it off with an air of casualness, though internally she still had no idea what he was talking about. "I'll meet you back here in the royal rotunda at midday." Why would my father arrange such a private affair and at such a revered and holy place? He knows that sacred ground is by royal invitation only, even for nobility to enter. I haven't even been there in years myself. Father, just what is it you're up to?

"Very well, it's settled," Arasmus agreed, his smirk deepening as if he had just secured some unspoken victory. "But before I go, I was wondering…"

Zelda, feeling a prickle of unease, glanced up at him. "Hmm?"

"Tell me, my dear," Arasmus began, his voice taking on a more deliberate edge, "with your morning now available, are you planning to visit the commoner's quarter to search for that soldier from yesterday?"

Zelda's friends, who had been silently observing the exchange, bristled at the insinuation in his tone. Purah, never one to hold back, leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "And what if she is?"

Arasmus turned his gaze to Purah, his expression cool and unreadable. "Well, I dislike the idea of her going to such rough areas unguarded. They are breeding grounds for scoundrels. You never know what sort of trouble you may run into." He said, gaze and words shifting slowly to focus on the sheikah scientist.

Urbosa, who had been quietly listening, crossed her arms and took a step forward, her tall frame towering over Arasmus. "She has me to watch after her. She is well protected."

Arasmus glanced at the imposing Gerudo woman, his expression flickering with a hint of disdain before he masked it with indifference. "So, do you have any other objections?" Urbosa pressed, her voice steady and challenging.

Arasmus sighed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, if you must, I relent. It's just that I don't want you to be disappointed in what you'll find there," he added, turning his attention back to Zelda.

"And what is that?" Zelda asked, her voice tinged with concern despite her best efforts to remain aloof.

Arasmus stepped closer, his voice lowering as if to confide in her. "I don't think your champion will be partaking in today's trial. After all, I wouldn't be surprised if he has already left with his bounty and ducked out of here."

"What makes you say that?" Zelda's words came out sharper than she intended, the possibility striking a chord of worry within her.

Arasmus shrugged, a knowing glint in his eye. "Well, I do have eyes too, you know. I saw the state he was in, and as a veteran of the battlefield myself, I could tell it didn't look good. Call it a warrior's hunch."

Zelda looked away, her heart sinking at the thought. But before she could dwell too long on it, Arasmus gently took her hand, his touch warm but unsettling. "But for his sake, I hope that I will be proven wrong," he said softly, his voice laced with what seemed like genuine concern.

Purah, who had been watching the interaction with barely concealed irritation, suddenly blurted out, "Well, for my sake, and for the sake of boredom everywhere, I say we go and have a look ourselves. I have something I'd like to show the princess too, and it just so happens to be waiting for us in the commoner's quarter."

Arasmus' eyes narrowed as he turned to the Sheikah scientist, his expression darkening. "Yes, you Sheikah are just full of surprises. I mean, with all your magical contraptions and the rest of it."

Purah, not one to be easily intimidated, met his gaze with a proud lift of her chin. "I know, isn't it just a snap?" She turned to her sister, Impa, who had been watching the exchange with a mix of concern and curiosity. "Here, sis, you escort the princess with the others. I'll catch up with you in a moment; there are just a few things I need to gather first."

Impa hesitated, glancing between Purah and Zelda before nodding slowly. "Alright, but don't take too long."

As the group began to whisk Zelda away, eager to leave behind any more mental gymnastics with the proud lord, Arasmus took that moment to approach Purah as she busily gathered her things.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper. "Don't get me wrong, you can have your fun today with her, but I don't trust your magic or your kind at all."

Purah, unfazed, shot back without missing a beat. "Well, then I guess you should be glad to hear that it isn't magic, it's science."

Arasmus' expression darkened further as he stepped even closer, his presence looming over her. "Tell that to the innocent people who died at Rocky Point. To the brave knights who had to repel such sinister powers that had no business existing in the first place."

Before Purah could respond, Arasmus grabbed her by the arm, his grip firm and unyielding. "I don't know what you're scheming or what ideas you're trying to plant in her head, but I don't trust you Sheikah further than I can spit. You're just Yiga to me, only wearing different clothes, got it?"

Purah, refusing to show any sign of fear, sneered up at him. "Then I suggest you start taking spitting lessons."

Arasmus tightened his grip momentarily before letting her go, his lips curling into a cold smile. "Listen to me. Mark my words—whatever sorcery it is, I will expose it for all the people to see. And if she gets hurt, I'm holding you personally responsible."

Purah scoffed, brushing off his threat with a roll of her eyes. "As if you care about her. You can't fool me, 'My Lord.' Because unlike you, I do care about her! I would never let any harm—"

Arasmus cut her off with a chillingly casual tone. "No, you're right, I don't. But I need her."

Purah stared at him, a mixture of disgust and determination in her gaze. "Are we done here?"

"For now," Arasmus replied smoothly. But before letting her go, he glanced at the table beside them. "Oh, how kind of you all, to leave me my favorite."

With his free hand he reached for a lone pastry that sat atop a platter and scarfed it down in a single bite. A spiced apple tart. "Delicious," he moaned softly, chewing the treat slowly, savoring the moment as if it was the best he ever tasted. Until finally he said, "Good morrow." Only to release her and step back to perform a mock bow.

His farewell sent an involuntary chill up Purah's spine as she watched him turn and leave. Despite his eerie attractiveness that even she couldn't help but notice from afar, his touch had been cold and calculating, his eyes full of manipulation. She resolved then and there that she must guard the princess from his snakelike influence at all costs.

Link slurped the last of his breakfast stew, savoring every drop as he leaned back in his seat, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "You know what, you're right, Jun," he declared, feeling more at ease than he had in days.

Jun, sitting across from him, blinked in surprise as he set down his own empty bowl. "I am?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at his mentor. They were seated under a canopy in the commoner's quarter, where a mess cook had doled out generous portions of breakfast to anyone in need, a rare kindness that came courtesy of the royal family. The hearty meal had done wonders to lift their spirits.

"Yeah," Link continued, his tone resolute as he played with a toothpick, chewing on it absentmindedly. "I'm just going to focus on the trial this afternoon. Girls are no longer on my mind. To be honest, I don't know what came over me the past few days anyway. Thanks for the advice earlier."

Jun shrugged, still unsure what advice he had given that warranted such gratitude. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice tinged with skepticism as he stared into space.

Link, noticing Jun's distant gaze, furrowed his brow. "Yeah, I just said so. Why?"

Jun didn't answer.

"Yep, no more ladies for me. I need to stay focus." Link reiterated, relaxing back in his chair, arms behind his head.

Suddenly an unexpected girl's voice chirped over them. "Well at least someone seems to have their priorities together today."

Link's heart skipped a beat at the sound of the familiar voice, and he froze mid-chew, nearly choking on the toothpick before spitting it in his hands to cleverly hide away. Jun, equally startled, glanced at Link with wide eyes before slowly turning to face the source of the voice. There, standing just behind them, was Princess Zelda herself, her golden hair catching the morning light, and an amused smile playing on her lips. She looked every bit the royal she was, yet there was a playful glint in her eyes that suggested she was enjoying catching them off guard.

"Well, at least someone seems to have their priorities together today," Zelda repeated after hearing them, her tone teasing as she folded her arms, waiting for the boys to gather their wits.

Jun swallowed hard, forcing a casual smile as he turned to face her. "Your Highness," he greeted, trying to keep his voice steady despite the sudden surge of nerves. "What a wonderful surprise…"

"Indeed, however, I don't know why you are so surprised to see me? Why did you abscond earlier? Also, I'm surprised to see you here without Helmsworth. Where is your knight?" Zelda remarked, noticing he was in the company of a plain dressed commoner, unsure if he was a soldier. "Shouldn't he be preparing for the trials as well?" The princess asked, full of questions, though still wearing a gotcha grin.

"Oh him? Yeah, he is uh, Helmsworth is uh—"

"—Helmsworth asked me to look after the boy in his short absence, isn't that right, Jun?" Link said, filling in the blanks for him as casually as he could.

Jun gave Link a side eye 'what are you doing? I am handling this'. Link in turn gave his own. 'Then say something'.

The Princess cupped her chin, somewhat suspiciously amused by their strange antics. "Uh, huh? I see, beg your pardon, Mister, but are you also a friend of Helmsworth?"

"Yes, he is," Jun finally boldly declared, clearing any tension in the air. "And he is also a soldier like Helmsworth too. Though he wouldn't look it right now," the boy explained, much to Link's silent wince at that last comment.

"Oh, I see." Zelda's eyes gleamed in evaluation.

"Yeah, and he needed my assistance you see, to the uh, uh the mess tent, to rally some of his strength for the coming trial this afternoon!" Jun's mind raced, and he quickly conjured up a white lie as well. "My master, who is totally Helmsworth, fled to meet his father for a blessing. That's it, a blessing!"

"I…see, I guess he would," Zelda mused pondering the explanation aloud. "It is a big day after all." Zelda returned, her eyes still gauging the truth out of the stricken boys.

"It is a big day, exactly," Jun reaffirmed, forcing an inconspicuous smile.

Zelda eyed the stranger from head to toe. Link felt her gaze evaluate him slowly that made his nerves tingle. "I don't think I have ever made your acquaintance," she said slowly, putting her best impression forward. "Are you a friend of Helmsworth and Jun?" Zelda asked, her eyes ashine with piqued curiosity of the humble, yet handsome young man now standing before her.

"Oh, my manners, I nearly forgot," Jun said earnestly interrupting. Zelda giggled at the idea of him remembering his manners. "I'm sorry, yeah his name is—"

Before Jun could explain further, Mipha, who had been browsing at a nearby stall, noticed the trio and made her way over. Her eyes widened slightly with glee as she recognized Link standing with Zelda and Jun. Her heart gave a small flutter at the sight of him—still rugged, still dependable, even in the midst of the bustling marketplace. She knew Link wasn't one to stand on ceremony, but there was something endearing about seeing him in this more casual setting.

"Link!" Mipha called out, her voice carrying a warmth that immediately caught Zelda's attention. "I didn't expect to find you here."

Link turned at the sound of Mipha's voice, his heart skipping a beat. He managed a small, somewhat awkward smile as she approached. "Good morning, Mipha," he greeted, his tone still relaxed from his earlier conversation with Jun.

Zelda's curiosity was piqued, and she tilted her head slightly, watching the interaction between the two. There was an ease between them, a familiarity that she hadn't seen before. "Oh, so this is the famous Link I keep hearing about," Zelda said with a hint of intrigue, turning to face him fully. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, taking in his rugged appearance and the quiet strength that seemed to radiate from him. She couldn't deny that there was something undeniably attractive about him, even if she had no intention of acting on it.

Link felt a jolt of anxiety at her words, though he kept his composure. He knew Mipha had spoken highly of him to her friends, but hearing it directly from the princess herself made his nerves flare up. "That would be me," he said, trying to keep his voice even, though it came out a bit rougher than intended.

Mipha smiled warmly, oblivious to Link's inner turmoil. "Yes, Princess Zelda, this is Link, the knight I've mentioned before. He's been a reliable friend and a steadfast warrior. I've known him practically all my life."

"Is that so? So, he does exist." Zelda said emphatically. Her eyes then lingered on him for a brief moment, her gaze appraising. "I've heard quite a bit about your deeds, Link," she said, her tone carrying a mix of curiosity, skepticism and admiration. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Link, feeling the pressure of both Mipha and Zelda's attention, cleared his throat, but it came out more like a grunt. He glanced nervously at Jun, who was standing beside him, wide-eyed and clearly panicking.

Jun, thinking quickly, blurted out, "Oh, it's just that spicy Sautéed Peppers he had earlier. Really packs a punch, doesn't it, Link?" He gave a forced laugh, trying to steer the conversation away from the scrutiny Link was under.

Link, catching on, nodded quickly, his deepened voice now making more sense in context. He played the part fully, with phony choking and coughing sounds to add to the theatrics. "Yes, that's it. Sautéed Spicy Peppers. I may have overdone it," he added, forcing another final cough to sell the excuse.

Zelda raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement as she looked at him. "Sautéed Spicy Peppers, hmm? I've heard they can be quite potent. Perhaps you should take care with your meals before a big day. We wouldn't want you to abandon your dreams, now that they are in reach and you have a princess to impress," She said, offering a glance to Mipha, though not fully aware that her own intrigue may have gotten the best of her as well.

Mipha's concern grew, and she stepped closer to Link. "You should have told me if it was too much. There's a remedy for that, you know," she offered gently, her eyes filled with care. "I can—"

"—No need, me and Jun can take of this." Link insisted, waving his hand.

Jun, sensing an opportunity to make a swift exit, quickly interjected, "We were just about to go and find something to soothe his throat, actually. Maybe some milk from the stable or a nice cool drink. We wouldn't want Link to be at anything less than full strength for the trials, right? Not to mention, Helmsworth entrusted him in my care, that's right, HELMSWORTH did, yup."

The girls both gave suspicious looks but didn't question it.

Link nodded eagerly, seizing on the excuse. "Exactly. Can't have my voice giving out on me," he added, his voice still gravelly as he tried to maintain the ruse. He didn't want Zelda to hear Helmsworth's voice in him, so he continued the charade of dependency.

Zelda's gaze softened, though a hint of suspicion lingered in her eyes. "Well, then I won't keep you. It was a pleasure meeting you, Link. I'll be watching the trials closely."

"As will I," Mipha added with a gentle smile. "Good luck, Link. And I long to celebrate your victory."

"Thank you," Link said, bowing slightly to Zelda first, before realizing that Mipha was also present. "I mean, the both of you," he clarified graciously with another frantic bow. He could have split the Earth, he bowed so fervently.

Sensing that the conversation was veering into dangerous territory, Jun quickly stepped in. "Time to go," he said, his voice a little too eager, nudging Link.

"Right," Link agreed with a feigned groan, seizing the opportunity to escape the situation.

Zelda gave them a nod, her expression thoughtful as she watched them. "Very well, goodluck for a final time. And tell Helmsworth, I await his return."

Mipha, still eyeing Link with curiosity, called out to them as they scurried off before she could offer her final goodbye. "Farewell Link!"

Link and the boy continued to flee as fast as they could, leaving both the girls bewildered on what they just witnessed.

As they hurried away, Jun let out a relieved sigh. "That was close."

"Too close," Link muttered, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure they weren't being followed. "I don't know how much longer I could have kept that up."

"You'll manage," Jun said confidently. "But we really need to work on your sorry excuses. Spicy food? Really?"

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" And it was you that mentioned them not me!"

The boy didn't reply.

"And that's good enough for me," Link added.

"Well, maybe for you, but not I."

Link could only chuckle in response as they made their way through the camp, grateful to have escaped without their secret being discovered—for now, at least.

AUTHORS NOTE: Okay, this will be the last fluffy ish chapter. It was necessary in my opinion to set up the climax that is happening next. I hope you enjoyed it. Please if you did, write a review as it does help with the story. Also, I'm open to your thoughts and criticisms. They help me craft the best story I can. The next one should be out in three weeks and things pick up the pace quite exponentially. I promise. Until next time- Sky

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Authors Notes: Hello friends, I'm writing to update you all that I will be posting another chapter in roughly three weeks from today. I will also be speeding up the conclusion of this arc of the story and will be picking up the pace considerably. Hopefully, you'll enjoy me doing so. To those who prefer the fluff, the next saga will have some new padding for you. But as for now, I need to get to the climax of this past arc so we can return to the main story and the main plot and so I can finish the book in its entirety. ( I may have gotten too carried away with myself and had too much fun writing).

That being said, what is slowing me down isn't my writing (I enjoy writing a lot) it's that I've also been working on the audiobook/audio-drama version of this story trying to catch that up to the written version of it. I'm a one-man band so it takes a lot of my time that I must sacrifice some from the other.

If you weren't aware, there is a voiced version of this story complete with voice actors for each character on Youtube if you wish to listen to it. I can't post links here, but if you search my channel: "Sir Link" you can find it. Another search could be Zelda botw fan sequel audiobook by that same channel. There are only six episodes, and the seventh will be released in two weeks. They average between forty-five minutes to over an hour in length. I would be eternally grateful for the support if you went and showed some love there if you appreciate this work/story. I know the voice actors would as well too.

And if you don't feel like going there, that is fine too, I'm happy just to have you here reading. I'm always open to your thoughts and suggestions. It was the suggestions that made me realize I need to condense more and pick the pace up a bit. Which I will be doing, going forward with a promise that I won't skip out on the story to the best of my ability.

So, until we meet again, stay well wherever you are on your travels in Hyrule. – Sky

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Why we failed pt. 19

A Kiss of Deception

After making some distance from the two girls, Link and Jun slowed their pace, weaving through the bustling campsites. The festive atmosphere around them seemed at odds with the tense conversation brewing between them. Jun let out a dramatic wheeze as they paused from running, clutching his sides.

"I don't get it," Jun panted, catching his breath and standing upright. "Why are you so bent about her finding out who you really are?" He shook his head, clearly baffled. "I get it, you like her, and yeah, so what, you're not nobility, and you're worried what she might think. But, who cares! If she doesn't like you after all you've done—and after you tell her the truth—then that's her own fault."

"It's not that simple," Link replied, his voice suddenly cold. His gaze flickered to the passing crowd as merchants and common folk bustled around, oblivious to the internal battle he was fighting. A man selling wares stumbled in front of them offering his goods and Link waved him off. "Besides, there were stories told about me."

Jun arched a brow, intrigued. "Stories?" he stepped in front of Link, blocking the path and forcing him to engage fully.

"Yeah..." Link trailed off, unwilling to meet Jun's persistent eyes.

"Were they true?" Jun asked earnestly.

"Of course, not!" Link snapped accidently in his defense. "Somebody has been spinning yarns about me," he said, stomping ahead only a mere two paces. Realizing he may have went overboard in his denial, he eased up. "You wouldn't understand." Link sighed and turned to face away and gander off into the distance and some trivial scene happening among the busy festival grounds, raking the back of his hair.

His squire ran up beside him again. "Try me," Jun shrugged, crossing his arms however Link remained silent in his thoughts. The lad glanced at the tents and colorful banners that lined the path, but his attention was fixed on Link who didn't budge and remained silent as a shadow. Thinking better of it to prod he offered another idea. "Fine, maybe I won't understand all that sort of stuff, but hey," Jun suddenly grabbed Link by the collar of his shirt, pulling him back into the conversation. "If she's too much trouble, why not go for that Zora girl instead? She seemed nice and is pretty too. As Zoras go, I mean. Their kind can be tall for sure, but she's short enough, even for you."

Link frowned, narrowing his eyes at the squire's less-than-graceful phrasing. "What's that supposed to mean?" he clapped back.

Jun stammered, immediately regretting his choice of words. "I uh, I meant no offense! Just that, you know, she seemed... uh, more approachable? You know, more—"

"Never mind that," Link interrupted, running a hand through his messy, unkempt hair again. His fingers tangled in greasy strands, reminding him just how far he was from the polished image of a knight. He was in need of a bath and of course both the girls had to see him prior to a good washing. Just what he needed, to look even more less than what he already was. "In any case, that Zora girl you speak of... she's a princess too, Jun. So, you see, it's not that simple."

Jun threw up his hands in exasperation. "Sheesh! What is with you and the royal ladies?"

"Nothing!" Link said defensively, his tone sharper than he intended. He let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his temple. "Nothing is going on between any of us." The words felt hollow even as he said them. Zelda's serene image, her radiant smile and those soft, lingering glances from earlier in the day, flashed in his mind. Compared to her, he felt like a stray, wet, shaggy dog—no better than the muck at her feet.

Jun tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. "Well then, if there's nothing going on," he said, eyes gleaming with mischief, "what is it you suppose they see in you, huh?"

Link groaned, irritated but also oddly impressed by Jun's audacity. He scowled at him, but even that melted into a reluctant smirk. "Whose side are you on, Jun?" he hissed, his narrowed eyes making it clear he wasn't entirely amused.

Jun raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying, maybe they see something you don't. Perhaps, theres a quality in you that can weather the truth if you told her." He nudged, but when doing so, Link's frown deepened. The lad realized he was fighting an uphill battle and quickly shifted topics. "Uh, how about we get that thing done for your father so you can focus on beating tonight's trial instead, yeah?"

Link's expression softened, the weight of his indecision lifting slightly as Jun spoke. He sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck, the tension of the last few minutes easing, if only by a fraction. Jun had a point, after all. There was no use in taking out his frustrations on the boy, especially when it wasn't his fault. Sooner or later, Link knew he'd have to face it all—Zelda, Mipha, the tangled mess of feelings he could barely make sense of. The only question was how. And when.

"Yeah, you're right," Link muttered, his voice low and thoughtful, almost to himself. "Let's just get through today. The worries of the morrow will come soon enough."

Jun grinned, clapping him on the back with the ease of someone who had already forgotten the awkwardness of their earlier predicament. "That's the spirit! Who knows? Maybe by tonight, you'll have all the answers. Or at least a better idea of what to do with those princesses of yours!"

Link shot him a warning look, but the edge in his voice had softened, replaced with a reluctant chuckle. "Jun…"

"What? Just saying what we're all thinking," Jun teased, though his cheeky grin faded just enough to show he knew when to pull back.

Link shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting despite himself. Jun had a way of cutting through the tension, even when everything felt like it was on the verge of spiraling out of control. Moments like this—amid the bustling camps and festival stalls, where the world seemed so much simpler than it actually was—reminded him why he kept Jun close.

"Fine, fine, I'm done," Jun relented, hands raised in mock surrender, though his grin never wavered.

It was then that something stirred in Link's mind, something important that had almost slipped through the cracks of his focus. "Jun?"

"I already said I was sorr—"

"—No, it's not that. I was going to ask you something else."

"Oh?" Jun's grin faded slightly, replaced with mild curiosity. "What?"

Link's gaze narrowed, his tone shifting to something more serious. "Where's your masks?"

The lad paused, his hand instinctively rubbing the back of his head, a habit Link recognized all too well when he was up to something or hiding. "Oh, them? They're in that safe place I told you about, don't you fret."

Link crossed his arms over his chest, studying him. "I'm not fretting. I'm only bringing it up because tonight is the Moonfall Masquerade. So, you should probably get them from wherever hole stashed them in. Have you given the princess hers?"

Jun's sheepish expression morphed into his usual cocky grin, as though he had been prepared for this exact moment. "Way ahead of you, sir. Took care of it already." He flashed that same cheeky smile that always managed to skirt the line between charming and irritating. "Besides, you worry too much. Now if you're done stalling, shouldn't we take care of that business with your father? The trial is starting soon, and after that, I won't be in contact with you until it's over."

"I know," Link exhaled a long, weary sigh, his brow furrowing. "That's why I want to make sure everything is done right and you're ready. After all, it's going to be you accompanying the princess in my stead. I'm going to need you to continue being my eyes and ears while I'm busy. I still don't feel right about all this. Something just feels –off."

"Sheesh, will you relax already?" Jun rolled his eyes with exaggerated exasperation. "I've got it covered. Trust me. Now let's get moving!" With a grin, he dashed behind Link, giving him a playful shove in the direction they were supposed to be heading.

Link relented with a half-smile, letting himself be nudged along, the tension between them dissipating into the air as they fell into step beside each other. The festival grounds sprawled out before them with the aroma of adventure. Bright banners fluttered overhead, and children darted between the legs of bustling townsfolk, and soldiers alike. The noise and movement provided a welcome distraction, a momentary reprieve from the looming trials.

There was something reassuring about their easy camaraderie, even with all the uncertainties swirling around them. For now, they had each other's backs—and that was enough.

The morning came and went, leaving the afternoon air thick with anticipation as the vibrant hum of the crowd below growing louder as they filled the grandstands, eager for the spectacle to begin. The sky, a brilliant shade of blue, stretched endlessly above the stadium, with only a few scattered clouds to hint at any imperfection. A soft breeze rustled, carrying with it the earthy scent of grass, the sweet aroma of fresh wildflowers, and the enticing smells of sizzling meats and festival treats from the stalls scattered about the grounds. The small folk grew rambunctious as they watched mummers and other sideshow performers pass the time with dazzling shows before the main festivities.

Zelda and her friends, Urbosa, Purah, Impa, and Mipha—and other lords and ladies of the court now sat perched high in a newly constructed Royal Enclosure; this time located on the outskirts of the meadow grounds facing a small field of grass before a wall of looming trees that opened to the mouth of the Whispering Woods. Unlit torches lined the tree line, marking the eerie entrance for those who were courageous enough to dare and enter. The air around them was lighter than the previous day, but Zelda's mind was anything but calm.

In mere moments, all eyes of the kingdom would be on her. As first and only daughter of the royal house of Hyrule and heir apparent to the goddess, she would be called upon to give her first official declaration, an address to the commoners, lords, soldiers and the cadets assembled below. She wiped her slick palms on the tablecloth, nervous at the thought. All the while she had yet to give her well wishes personally to Helmsworth. She hadn't see him all day. A bad omen in her mind, for he has been missed these past hours.

Her father, King Rhoam, also sat at a table nearby, deep in conversation with Lord Chancellor Danarus, the powerful paramount of the Stonelands and several dignitaries of court and emissaries from neighboring kingdoms. Across from Zelda at the other end of the enclosure with direct line of sight of her sat Arasmus, Lord Danarus's son, accompanied by a few dregs of his entourage. She couldn't help but notice his dark hair glinting in the sunlight as he lounged in his seat, casting a subtle, fiery hue that matched the proud insignia of his burning baldric, radiating confidence. He would cast occasional admiring glances in Zelda's direction, though she made a point not to return them.

The grandstands around them bustled with the excited chatter of nobility, while servants bustled about, offering trays of light refreshments. Platters of savory roasted wild mushrooms, sweetly-spiced pumpkin seeds, and the famous, yet delicate Hateno berry pastries made their rounds, along with pitchers of lavender-scented water and heartier drinks for the embolden. Zelda had barely touched her trencher, her appetite dulled by the anxious knot tangling in her stomach.

"Princess…" Called out a soothing voice but to no answer from Zelda. "Princess," The voice was heard on the gentle breeze again. However, she was still adrift in her own musings. "Princess Zelda, are you alright?" the sweet voice asked for a final time.

Zelda felt herself return to the day at hand, gowned in a formal emerald dress of exquisite needlecraft and shook her head from the fog of swirling thoughts and mumbled back to whoever was breaking her from her fleeting moments of silent peace. "Huh?"

"Dear Princess, is something the matter?" Mipha asked, her face etched with concern, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she made her way to find her own seat next to her. "Are you alright?"

Her serene Zora features held a shadow of hidden worry, her thoughts clearly drifting to Helmsworth as if she knew exactly what the princess was thinking about. After all, she could relate to the feeling.

Zelda offered a tight smile. "To be honest, nervous," she admitted. "But I suppose we all face our trials sooner or later." Her thoughts flickered briefly to Helmsworth, the mysterious knight who had captured her attention these last few days. He had been so valiant in the preliminary rounds, kind and attentive in the marketplace square and despite her best efforts, she hadn't been able to shake thoughts of him since. Not to mention, his absence all day was quite noticeable.

"There's nothing to be nervous about," Mipha said kindly. "I'm sure Helmsworth is just fine. After all, the clerics here at the capital are quite gifted in their vivimancy. I'm certain he will do wonderfully today. I mean, after all we've seen so far, his abilities are quite… remarkable." Her voice softened, betraying the quiet affection she held for her own knight.

Zelda, trying to mask her own reaction, laughed lightly. "Helmsworth? Oh, yeah, he certainly seems capable. But to be honest, what I'm most worried about is my own ability. I mean, setting the hearts and minds of the people at ease. Even now the hour grows nearer and I'm afraid I can't string a single thread of thought together. I fear this is going to be a disaster in the making."

"So, what is it we are we talking about?" Purah's sly voice cut through the air, her grin as sharp as ever as she glanced between them.

Zelda blinked, drawn from her thoughts, and forced herself to smile—just enough to make it seem like she had been present the whole time. She needed to keep her mind clear. There were too many eyes on her today, too many expectations; and before she could respond, Mipha playfully answered before her.

"Helmsworth, actually," Mipha offered with a polite smile.

Zelda's heart stumbled. She had been careful—so careful to keep her fascination with the mystery knight concealed, but here it was, out in the open, hanging between her and her friends like a secret she hadn't meant to share. She felt a flush of warmth creep up her neck, her cheeks betraying her no matter how hard she tried to play it off.

"Him again, eh?" Purah snarked, her voice dancing with mischief. "He's really sparked an interest in you, hasn't he?"

Zelda's pulse quickened. No, not all, she wanted to say, but the words tangled in her throat, refusing to emerge smoothly. Instead, she waved a dismissive hand, trying to shake off the accusation with a flick of her wrist.

"No, not really. In fact, we weren't really discussing him at all," she insisted, though the way her voice caught at the end betrayed her. Her cheeks warmed further, a deep blush settling in as Purah's grin only widened. Curse her and her ability to see right through me.

"Besides," Zelda added quickly, as if to regain some semblance of control, "I hardly know him."

Urbosa, lounging with her usual effortless grace, raised an eyebrow as she took a slow sip from her goblet. "Then perhaps you should remedy that after these trials and do get to know him better. He's clearly in your thoughts and clearly you can't ignore them." Her voice carried the weight of experience, but there was a teasing edge that made Zelda's embarrassment sharpen.

Zelda's eyes flicked to Urbosa's with a mix of annoyance and gratitude, knowing full well that Urbosa could see past her defenses but chose not to press further. "You're young still," Urbosa continued, reclining in her chair as if the weight of the world didn't rest on her shoulders, "there will be time for entertaining the notion of serious courting later. Enjoy your youth now, I say."

Zelda shifted in her seat, her fingers smoothing down the folds of the tablecloth as if the act could somehow quiet the flurry of emotions twisting inside her. "Only a curiosity, is all, I assure you," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. She wished her voice carried more conviction, but the words seemed flimsy, like they might dissolve under any real scrutiny.

Purah, never one to let an opportunity slip by, prodded again with a knowing smirk. "Uh-huh, a curiosity you say…Sorta-like how I'm curious to know what this banana cream pie tastes like." The Sheikah scientist said, reaching for the freshly baked confection atop a platter. One of the maidens sitting with them concurred with a jovial laugh. "Oh, I bet she's much more interested than you are tasting pies, more like, his lips."

Zelda rolled her eyes, her chin lifting slightly as she pretended to brush off the insinuation. "Like I said, he is merely a curiosity," she conceded with a sigh, "and as a matter of fact, what is really on my mind is that I'm more worried if the High Priest will be ready in time for this whole hullabaloo." She lifted her nose slightly, a mock expression of annoyance crossing her face as she closed her eyes. "Truth be told, all this this waiting is beginning to kill me. I just want to get this whole ordeal over with so the festival can proceed."

The change of subject was deliberate, but the tightness in her chest didn't ease. Her friends ignored her excuse and continued their own conversations, but the laughter afterwards they would share from their own discussions around her felt distant, as though she were watching the scene unfold from behind a veil. She couldn't shake the thoughts of Helmsworth, nor the way her heart had started to race at the mere mention of his name.

"Speaking of which," Mipha interjected Zelda's thoughts again, her tone as gentle as ever, "that young squire who was with Helmsworth… he said he gave you a mask or had one for you. Did I hear him right?" She cleared her throat, her voice trailing off as if the question were a little too bold.

Zelda's heart skipped. No more mentioning of him please. She winced internally, but outwardly she kept her expression cheerful, or at least she tried, careful not to let her growing nerves show. "And?" she asked, though the tension in her voice betrayed her.

"Well," Mipha began, her voice softening, "it's that he isn't here for me to ask and well, I'm unfamiliar with your Hylian tradition this evening—the Moonfall Masquerade, or so I'm told it is named."

"It is," Zelda replied, turning her head slightly to meet Mipha's gaze. The coolness in her voice was not intentional, but she found herself grasping for control, for anything to keep her mind steady.

"Beg your pardon for my ignorance of the holiday," Mipha continued, her cheeks tinged with faint embarrassment, "but why the masks? And why this evening? Rather strange to be celebrating two holidays on one day, isn't it? Come to think of it, I don't think we Zora have any holidays that eclipse one another."

Zelda hesitated. The answer was somewhere in the depths of her mind, but it was tangled in half-remembered lessons and the ancient scrolls she had never been fond of. Her interests had always lain in studying new ideas, uncovering the mysteries of science, not in past superstitions mentioned in the old histories of their kingdom that sat atop dusty shelves in the Room of Remembrance.

Just as she was about to respond—likely with a clumsy retelling of a half-remembered myth—Impa, always perceptive and always timely, cleared her throat. She wore that knowing grin, the one that said she had already predicted Zelda's struggle.

"I believe I can take this one from here, Princess," Impa interjected smoothly, saving Zelda from fumbling a response, when clearly, she was hardly studied in the matter more than Mipha.

Zelda exhaled, her shoulders loosening just slightly as Impa took the lead, the conversation shifting away from her once more.

"As you may know, the Festival—or rather, the Trial of the Flame—takes place once every century," Impa began, her voice as smooth and composed as ever. "What you may not know, however, is that once every thousand years, this trial aligns with another remembrance holiday we observe—the Moonfall Masquerade. It's an equally important tradition, though for very different reasons."

Mipha leaned forward and listened intently, making a show of it; whereas Zelda also listened with great interest but masked her ignorance with a feigned knowing, looking away, pretending to be disinterested if anyone were to glance her way.

"The Festival of the Flame, or rather, the trials, are a means by which knights of the kingdom are born." Impa dipped a piece of bread into her bowl of steamy tomato soup, nibbling on it thoughtfully, savoring the aromatic blend of flavor before continuing. "Not in the literal sense, of course, but born through duty. It's a tradition as old as time itself, spanning all the way back to the Age of Heroes. A test to separate the smoke from the fire."

Zelda nodded slightly, hiding behind her mask of royal composure, though inwardly, she felt a prick of shame. She was supposed to be the one who knew these stories, these ancient traditions—she was the heir of the goddess. And yet, they felt like distant echoes, just beyond her reach. Her hands tightened in her lap, but before she could brood any further, she heard a question slipping from her own lips, almost involuntarily.

"Why once every hundred years?" she asked, turning to face Impa, immediately regretting how eager the question sounded. I should know this, she thought miserably, but before she could chastise herself further, Mipha, ever kind and gracious, stepped in with her usual tact.

"Funny you should ask that, Your Highness," Mipha said with a warm smile. "I was just about to inquire the same thing. You read my mind." She offered Zelda a look of genuine admiration, her voice gentle and sincere. "Perhaps the blessings of foresight, the sacred gift your forebearers held, is just as strong in your veins as it was in theirs."

Ah yes, the Divine Gift, Zelda thought despairingly. The Golden Power, some legends called it. The Sacred Sealing Power, according to others. Whichever name one chose, it all pointed back to the same source—a power as old as the kingdom itself. Zelda nodded politely, though inwardly, the words stung more than Mipha could have known. Mipha had meant it as encouragement, a compliment meant to lift her spirits, but Zelda knew better.

She held no such gift.

She'd never been able to summon the great powers of her ancestors—never been able to peer into the future or bend the elements to her will. She couldn't send her voice across vast spans of mountains or seas, with nothing but the force of her mind, nor harness a strength so mighty that kingdoms bowed before it. Those were talents of a different time, of better princesses, ones spun into tapestries of legend. She was just a girl who struggled to remember the old histories and doomed to fumble through speeches she was expected to know by heart.

The Princess' question took Impa by surprise. She hadn't expected Zelda to show interest in such tales. "Because that is the way things are, and have always been," she replied simply.

Zelda scoffed, throwing up her hands in frustration. "Well, that's just silly. Doing things just for the sake of doing them—only because it's tradition?"

Impa smiled softly at her reaction, but there was an edge of understanding in her eyes. "If truth be told, there is a belief," she began, her voice measured, "that knights born from the Festival of the Flame could never coexist in a world where previous champions still linger among the living."

Zelda narrowed her eyes. "That's an even more preposterous explanation. Why would it matter if they knew the previous order of knights inducted into the Royal Guard? Where's the harm in that?"

"Not just any knights inducted into the guard," Impa corrected, taking a sip from her goblet, "but those forged by the same sacred ceremony of the Flame that they've endured."

Zelda frowned, her interest piqued despite herself.

Impa continued, her voice slipping into the cadence of an old legend. "Scholars interpreted the legend to speak of a shared power between the old and new—an idea that the young generation cannot rise while their forerunners still remain among the living. When they perish, only then can their roles be inherited. For one cannot pass down their positions and duties if they are still alive to wield them."

The princess chewed on Impa's explanation; her lips pursed as she mulled it over. There was a flicker of withstanding in her eyes. She couldn't help but feel the weight of how archaic it all sounded—how much of their world was still shackled to ancient myths and traditions that no longer served a purpose.

Sensing the rebuttal forming on Zelda's lips, Impa offered a small, knowing smile. "But that is just what the myths say," she conceded, leaning back slightly. "And through the decaying passage of time, we are left with the traditions that remain. Perhaps, at one time, it may have been so... but now?" She shrugged lightly, her sigh tinged with the same skepticism Zelda felt. "No one can be sure anymore."

Zelda opened her mouth to interject, but Impa pressed on before she could speak. "As for the Moonfall Masquerade, it's a celebration of both passover and atonement, woven into one."

Impa's voice softened, her tone shifting as she slipped into another tale—one older, one etched into the bones of Hyrule's history. "Long, long ago, a hero adrift in the realm of time saved this world with the help of the Goddess, and the awakened stone giants from the four far-flung corners of the earth. A villain as old as memory had set his lustful gaze upon Hyrule. He drank the tears of mothers, gave life to the fears of fathers, and stole the dreams of children. His power turned the hearts of the people against themselves and fed on their despair. Through their suffering made manifest he summoned a fallen star—no, a corrupted moon, meant to bring their doom."

Zelda and Mipha listened in silence, captivated. Even Zelda, who had heard fragments of this legend before, found herself drawn in by Impa's retelling. Her advisor's voice seemed to wrap the words in a cloak of both reverence and sadness, as if the tale were too ancient to belong to anyone, yet too personal to ignore. She never heard it told quite like this before.

"But through the bravery of the Hero of Time," Impa continued, her eyes flickering with the light of the fire in front of them, "and with the help of the Goddess, he prevailed, quelling the darkness within the people. He gave peace to their wearied souls, rekindled their icy hearts, and helped the dead find their rest among the stars."

Impa paused for a moment, letting the weight of the words hang between them. Zelda, ever the skeptic, couldn't help but feel the thread of disbelief tugging at her, though she knew better than to voice it. Legends are stories, she reminded herself. Stories to keep people hopeful. But still, she found herself wanting to hear more.

"And what does that have to do with the masks?" Zelda asked, her voice curious despite her best efforts to sound indifferent.

Mipha nodded eagerly beside her, eyes wide with fascination.

Impa smiled, clearly enjoying her role as storyteller. "When the hero saved a life or granted peace to a restless soul, their fears were said to be trapped within a mask. Through the hero's teachings and the Goddess' blessings, the people learned to use their fears as weapons—against the evil that loomed above. They donned these masks in solidarity, their faces of wood and stone staring back at the corrupted heavens, and together they banished its evil gaze."

The image lingered in the air, vivid and strange. Zelda could almost picture it—the people, united, wearing the faces of their fears, staring down the moon that had threatened to tear their world apart.

"In time," Impa continued, "when peace was restored, the people swore never to forget that night. They vowed forevermore to remember their pass over from destruction, and so the Moonfall Masquerade was born. Each year, we wear the masks to remember the bravery of those who came before, and to remind ourselves that even in the darkest moments, we can stand united against whatever peril threatens our world."

Zelda leaned back in her chair, her mind still processing the weight of Impa's words. There was something about the story that felt heavy, even now. She glanced at Mipha, who was still wide-eyed, the story clearly resonating with her on a deeper level. Zelda felt a twinge of guilt—she should feel more connected to these tales, to these traditions. But they felt like relics of a time long gone, distant and unreachable.

Mipha smiled at Zelda, as if she also felt the same sentiments. "I wonder if heroes could still be found like those mentioned in the old stories?"

Their quiet understanding wouldn't last long as they were interrupted by the arrival of a young noblewoman, dressed in fine silks, hurrying to find her seat. She overheard their shared tale. "Oh, a hero you say. I sure like those!"

Purah rolled her eyes secretly as Zelda and Mipha turned to face the girl.

She leaned over the railing of the enclosure, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Speaking of which, I don't know why they're bothering with wagers," she declared loudly, her voice full of confidence. "It's not like the others have a chance at being crowned champion. Young lord Regoso will surely win. He's the best of the pledges by far. He's a hero in the making if I ever saw one!"

Zelda blinked, momentarily thrown off by the young woman's boldness. "Regoso?" she asked, remembering him among the throng of cadets. He, after all was her second cousin, or was it third twice removed? She couldn't remember exactly, but nevertheless never cared for his cocky attitude either. What was it with men from noble houses that made them so arrogant?

Zelda and her friends fell silent, but the girl heard her whisper to herself and nodded eagerly. "Yes, surely you must recognize that Regoso is the odds favorite to win. Tall, strong as an ox, skilled, and from a noble house, not far out of court from your own I might add. He's sure to win today's trial. You'll see, Princess."

Purah leaned mischievously to whisper in Impa's ear, "Notice, she didn't say handsome as a qualifying feature of him. I sure did." Zelda gave a sharp glance back at her sacrilegious remark. As if someone's looks were any merit to their abilities or valor.

Mipha, who had been silently listening, spoke up, her voice soft but firm. "I wouldn't be so sure My Lady. There are many brave boys willing to become knights out there today." Her thoughts clearly drifted to Link. The nervous hope in her voice was unmistakable.

Zelda, feeling a strange kinship with Mipha in that moment, nodded in agreement. "I have my own hopeful in mind as well," she said, though her thoughts now raced. Though truth be told, she had been wondering what happened to Helmsworth since she last saw him last night. Was Arasmus right in his prediction that he would abandon the Trials after all? Instead, she decided not to press the matter nor ponder it more than she had to. Better to just wait and see.

Suddenly, a servant poured a refreshing lavender drink into Zelda's goblet, and it was then she saw a folded piece of parchment discreetly placed by her trencher. This tore her from her previous thoughts. That's strange, a letter. The servant offered no explanation, merely bowing and stepping away. Her stomach clenched with unease as her eyes caught the delicate, yet familiar seal—a burning black serpent stamped in wax.

Her breath hitched, knowing who it must have sent it. Knowing well enough that it would carry the same air of superiority and veiled charm that she had grown accustomed to. Yet, there was something about it, something about the way it arrived, that made her fingers tremble slightly as they unfolded the parchment. Not to mention, this note was pre-determined, surely written hours if not the day prior as if to predict this very moment.

She glanced up to see him, Arasmus, lounging too far away to engage in direct conversation, but his eyes—those deep blue eyes that always seemed to be watching her, calculating—were fixed on her, even as he spoke to someone else. His smirk was barely hidden as though he already knew what she was about to read. Zelda's pulse quickened as her eyes flowed over the page.

Zelda's fingers curled tightly around the edges of the letter, crumpling the parchment slightly in her hand. His words slithered into her mind, each one wrapping around her like the tightening coil of the snake emblazoned on his breastplate. 'I trust you will see the wisdom in hastening our union...' Her stomach twisted. This was no cordial letter. This was a demand—a veiled threat masquerading as an apology wrapped in flowery language. Furthermore, she had no desire to 'think of him fondly'. His last words written. Zelda's eyes traced over his sleek handwriting, and she felt dampness return to her forehead. His words, though polite, made her restless in her seat. But with all eyes on her, she couldn't afford to make a scene.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth felt dry, as if the words themselves had drained the air from her lungs. She stared down at the delicate folds of the letter, her mind racing, her heart pounding in her ears. The 'spring could wait for things have changed'? Wait for what? What was he saying? What does the spring have to do with today or the next? Was he referring to the Goddess Spring or perhaps the coming season of spring? That the 'path forward' was clear to him? And that 'her' choices—no, her actions—were being closely watched for her own benefit and safety.

Zelda's breath hitched again, but this time in anger. She could almost feel the weight of his plans pressing down on her. A future where her autonomy was nothing more than a pawn in his games, where she was expected to simply comply.

She glanced back at him across the enclosure, trying to mask the chill that tingled down her spine. He wasn't speaking to anyone anymore. Could my father really have signed off on his schemes or was he an unwilling accomplice being lured into a trap? His eyes were still on her, calm, confident. It took every ounce of her willpower not to shudder visibly under his gaze. Then from out of nowhere they flickered away to meet some other dignitary for discussion.

"Everything alright?" Impa asked quietly, her sharp eyes noticing the bead of sweat atop Zelda's upper lip.

"It's nothing," Zelda blinked and padded the nervousness with her handkerchief, forcing her expression to soften, to melt away the dread that had begun to creep into her heart. She tucked the note into her sleeve, hiding it away as though it could be forgotten just as easily. "Just an apology from Lord Arasmus, is all. He couldn't meet me at the spring today to discuss the plans my Father has laid out for us both. Apparently, urgent business needed his attention elsewhere. In fact, I'm relieved." she lied, her voice light, almost breezy. The note said nothing of the sort. It was a cryptic message, that she could hardly decipher herself.

Impa's sharp eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. She could always see through Zelda's facades, but today, thankfully, she chose not to press.

Purah, however, was not one to let things slide so easily. "Urgent business, huh? What can be more urgent than a private audience with the Princess? I don't like the sound of it," she muttered, her tone laced with suspicion.

Zelda dismissed Purah's comment and forced a laugh, though her heart wasn't in it. "Yes, well, I suppose it gives me more time to focus on the festival. After all, it will be beginning any moment now, let us enjoy the day."

She reached for her goblet and took a sip of the lavender water, hoping the cool liquid would ease the tightness in her throat. But it didn't. The taste felt almost bitter now, her nerves fraying beneath the surface. She could still feel Arasmus's eyes on her even when he wasn't looking, the weight of his intentions pressing down on her shoulders.

She had known he was ambitious, but this letter—it was more than that. He was warning her, pushing her, trying to manipulate her into a corner. A corner where she would have no choice but to align with him, to fall in line with whatever scheme he and his father were plotting. His words, though subtle, were clear: he expected her to support his rise, to give him the crown by her side. But even with all that written, is that truly what he even wanted? At times she would sense the doubt in his voice when he spoke of what he genuinely desired. Maybe it was all his father's doing? Or worse, her own.

The idea sickened her. She reminisced the last lines of the note again. 'I believe, when the time is right, you will see that there is only one path forward, to preserve all that we hold dear, no matter the sacrifice and bring anew the dawn of a new age...Until then, think of me fondly, My Sundelion'.

Suddenly, before she could dwell anymore on the matter, horns blared their songs declaring the start of the festival and strangely, Zelda felt relieved by it. Even if it were temporary. The princess forced another smile, this one more genuine as she looked onward to the preparations culminating below on the balcony that overlooked the people. The note had shaken her, but now was not the time to let it show. There were bigger fish to fry.

They had barely made it in time. The large, wooden double doors leading to the soldier's paddock were nearly closed when Link and Jun darted through, slipping into the arena just before they were shut out. The air inside was tense, charged with the quiet anticipation of those who had already gathered. Knights-to-be stood in rows within the fence line, their gazes fixed on the stands above, where the royal court awaited. All of them, eager to prove their worth in the coming trials.

Link kept his distance for the moment, hovering near the edge of the paddock with Jun, where a dugout offered a sliver of shade and anonymity. Several other cadets milled about, adjusting their armor, securing weapons, or simply taking a breath before the moment they would step forward and be presented alongside the others. This was it—the culmination of years of training and sacrifice. And yet, Link's mind wasn't on the trials. His eyes flicked upward, instinctively searching for her. Zelda.

"There you are! About time you showed up—we were starting to worry!" a familiar voice broke through his thoughts, and Link turned just in time to catch sight of Orin, his closest friend. Orin's broad grin greeted him, but behind him, pacing anxiously a few paces away, was Sven, head tipped back toward the heavens as though pleading with the goddess for salvation.

Link blinked, briefly disoriented. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't even realized he and Jun had been spotted.

"Where have you been and why aren't you in uniform?" Orin asked, stepping closer, curiosity in his eyes. "Sir Athelon's had us looking for you ever since you left with Master Finn yesterday."

Link opened his mouth to answer, though the words felt clumsy on his tongue. "Uh, well, I was, uh—"

"What's it to you?" Jun blurted out instead, his small frame somehow carrying enough attitude to cut through the moment.

Link shot him a quick look, the kind that was supposed to be a warning. Hush. But Jun only shrugged in response, utterly unbothered.

"Anyway," Link continued, his voice steadying as he returned his focus to Orin, "I was caught up. It's not important. I'm here now."

Jun, always quick to jab, folded his arms and muttered, "Yeah, you can say that again."

Orin chuckled, amused by the exchange. "And who might your friend be?" His gaze flicked to Jun, sizing him up with a grin.

Link rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the familiar weight of Jun's antics bearing down on him. "Well, I was considering him to be my squire," he said, glancing at Jun with mock severity, "but now I might have to jettison him at the nearest stable if he keeps speaking out of turn."

"I'm sorry, alright?" Jun offered, though the glint in his eyes made it clear he wasn't that sorry.

Link smiled, shaking his head. There was no way he could stay mad at the kid—not really.

Orin raised an eyebrow, his amusement deepening. "You—have a squire?" he asked, incredulous though amazed. "I thought only seasoned knights had those."

Jun puffed out his chest proudly, as if his position had already been solidified. "Yeah, and he will be a knight soon enough," he said, raising his fist in the air like some grand declaration of destiny. But as soon as he caught the look Link shot him, he backtracked quickly. "I mean, never mind."

Link rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the fondness creeping into his voice. "Like he says, I'll soon be a knight. We all will—if we make it through this alive."

Orin shrugged, his usual carefree smile dimming slightly. "Well, it's good to see one of us is optimistic. Poor Sven's been beside himself all day. Can't stop questioning whether he should go through with it."

Link's gaze shifted past Orin's shoulder, landing on Sven, who was indeed pacing in a small circle, his hands gesturing wildly toward the sky as though pleading for divine intervention. His lips moved in quiet prayer, and Link almost pitied him—almost. The look on Sven's face was one of sheer panic, the kind that came from knowing the trials ahead were not meant to be easy, and that even the best-prepared could fail.

Sven's eyes flitted toward the heavens, and his hands made small, anxious movements, as though he could bargain with Hylia herself to spare him the worst of what was to come. He muttered something under his breath, the words lost to the murmur of the dugout, but the expression on his face said enough.

"Spooked to the gills, is he?" Link asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Completely." Orin sighed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's ready to make a break for it before they even call for us."

Link walked away from Jun and Orin, and spoke earnestly behind Sven, somewhat startling him to his presence. "Hey, don't you even think about quitting on me now."

Sven whirled, nearly tumbling over his own feet before Link reached out to steady him by the shoulder. "L—link, you're back!? About time! I was just, I mean I—"

Link smirked. "—It's fine, Orin filled me in on the details. How are you holding up?"

"He did, huh?" Sven bellowed a sigh. "I don't know…" he started, rubbing the back of his moppy head of hair. Scratching an itch that didn't seem to be quite there. " I'm not like you guys. I'll never be like you guys. It was foolish of me to ever think otherwise. There's no way I'll survive these challenges. You might as well send for the forges to have them brand my headstone."

Link shook his head and his friend's shoulder, firm, yet with understanding. "What of sort of talk is that? You can do this, Sven! And it's not just me saying so. My father also believes in you and so does even Athelon. They wouldn't have wasted their time if you were a lost cause. And besides, we're like brothers. Hell, this is more of your dream than mine. Always has been. So what do you say? Will you join me in the flames?"

Jun pondered on it for a moment, really digesting his Link's words. Then, he felt a smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah, of course I will. You're right. It's true what you say. You're head has always been elsewhere, especially now it would seem." He said, his glance shifting to the stands, hinting at something else, or rather, someone else.

Link's eyes also turned back to the stands at his gesture, the familiar weight of anticipation settling in his chest. It wasn't the trial itself that unnerved him—not the looming test of courage in the Whispering Woods, nor the thought of the trials to come. His nerves were tethered to something else. Someone else. He scanned the royal box again, catching a glimpse of golden hair. There she was, Zelda. She was being led away by the Grand Seneschal, it was almost time, he knew it in his gut.

"Where in Hylia's Hell have you been?" Came the disturbing roar of Athelon, stepping up to the boys, tearing Link's happy gaze. "And more importantly, why in the hell are you not wearing your gear, pledge!?" His dead swirling eye fixed on Link and he could feel it pierce his soul.

"I uh," Link stepped back. Others aside from his friends laughed, notably the obnoxious Regoso and his posse.

"I don't know what's going on or where you've been and I don't give a flying, Rito fuck. You and that helpful runt of yours have approximately three minutes to get you suited up. If your ass isn't back in time, I'll kill you myself and save you the embarrassment. Now go!" Athelon said, his fiery gaze falling on Jun, who didn't seem to budge like the others at his intimidating stature.

It that instant, reception trumpets blared. "You hear that? Time to go! Fall in!" Athelon roared to the lackluster group of hopefuls. With his instructions clear, the lads charged onto the meadow grounds to line up at attention to face the grandstands to await the commencement. Athelon's vein bulged at the side of his forehead, twisting to face Link and his would-be squire. "The hell are you still doing here!? If you have a death wish!—"

That was the last thing both Link and Jun heard as they rushed back to the soldier stalls where his gear should be.

Moment's prior-

It happened like the sudden wake from a dream—jarring, pulling her from the small cocoon of cozy conversation she had wrapped herself in with her friends. The Senechal suddenly appeared at her side, standing tall behind them, his presence looming like a shadow over the royal box, reminding her of her duty. All eyes turned toward him as he leaned low, his head dipping in a formal bow before Zelda, his voice soft as silk yet cutting through the moment with a cold reverence.

"Your Highness," he said respectfully, "The King, your father, says it's time."

Those words. They seemed to echo, stretching out and filling the space around her. There was no escape now.

The air shifted. Suddenly, it was as though she were floating outside of herself, watching as her own body moved to stand. Her legs trembled beneath her gown, weak and unreliable, but they carried her forward regardless, her feet finding their path on instinct alone. The wooden steps ahead seemed to blur and dance like a wobbly roped bridge, her mind a fog of nerves that she couldn't seem to clear.

It's time.

The weight of those words settled heavily on her chest, pressing down with each step she took away from the safety of the royal box. She swallowed hard, the familiar tightness in her throat making her feel as though she had swallowed stones. Breathe. Just breathe. But even that simple act felt like a task too great to manage. Zelda's steps quickened, the distance between her and the balcony shrinking with terrifying speed, and yet, the space around her felt like it stretched on endlessly.

She heard her friends behind her, their quiet murmurs—soft, supportive words meant to encourage—but they were drowned out by the growing noise of the crowd beyond. The sound swelled, rising in intensity as she approached the balcony, and with each step, her heart thudded louder in her chest, as if it were desperately trying to keep pace with the world outside her control.

At the edge of the balcony, High Priest Galivan stood with his usual mask of piety, but Zelda knew better. He greeted her with that same hollow smile he reserved for the crowds, the one that made her skin crawl, his admiration less about her role as princess and more about something unspeakable. His sharp eyes lingered, and though his hands rested behind his back this time, the memory of them during their rehearsals hovering over her skin, caused her instinctively to move aside from him. To the people, he was a symbol of divine grace, but to Zelda, he was nothing more than a lecherous fraud whose presence added to the weight of her growing unease.

Also beside him was the Royal Scholar. A modest, thin and gaunt man who she also didn't see eye to eye with most of the time, but at least wasn't a secret monster. She recalled her childhood up until now by how many long hours spent with him, rehearsing, reciting, memorizing the exact words she was supposed to say to the people below. Platitudes and formal statements, so carefully constructed, now floated uselessly in her mind. The lines she had been forced to memorize since she was a little girl twisted and warped, slipping through her fingers like smoke. Vanishing soon as they came to mind. Nothing seemed to fit the moment. Nothing felt right.

And then she saw him—Arasmus.

He stood there, already on the balcony, his posture relaxed, as though this were his stage. A shock of confusion raced through her. What is he doing here? She had seen him sitting beside her father just moments before, and now, inexplicably, he was waiting for her as if he were a part of all this.

Zelda's steps faltered, her mind racing to catch up with this new reality. There was no time to think, no time to react, because in the very next moment, Arasmus reached out his hand toward her, his fingers brushing lightly against hers as if claiming what was his for all to bear witness. She could hardly protest.

"Shall we, Princess?" he murmured, the charm in his voice doing little to hide the satisfaction lurking beneath.

Before she could pull away or find the words to refuse him, he had already swept her to the edge of the balcony, presenting her to the gathered masses like a prize to be displayed. Her heart lurched in her chest as the cheers from the crowd rose like a wave, crashing over her, pulling her under the tide of their expectant gazes.

Zelda's breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide as she tried to process what was happening, but Arasmus gave her no time. His hand, still firmly grasping hers, tightened, and all she could do was stand there, the weight of his hand on hers feeling like a shackle. She could feel the eyes of the entire kingdom upon them, expectant and unaware of the storm churning beneath the surface of her carefully controlled expression.

With a deep breath, Zelda accepted his invitation and stepped out onto the balcony. "Goodluck, my dear Sundelion," he whispered in her ear. "I know you will give them all the good news."

Princess Zelda stood atop the floating terrace, the vastness of the stands below stretching out beneath her, and for a moment, she wished she were anywhere else. The wind tugged at her dress, gentle, but insistent—much like the world's expectations of her. Today was the day she would address the people of Hyrule, her people, and offer words of hope and strength to those who were about to embark on their own journeys. But the words felt foreign to her, stiff and hollow in her throat, as if they belonged to someone else. Someone older. Someone wiser. Someone who definitely wasn't her.

Her fingers curled around the railing, seeking an anchor. She had rehearsed this. Many times. But it hadn't prepared her for the real thing. The sheer weight of eyes upon her, waiting for her to speak, to be their princess, to be someone who could lead them, inspire them. She was barely six and ten and already a woman grown, and yet here she was, standing before hundreds of soldiers, lords, and common folk. And she, more than anyone, knew how small she still felt in her skin.

She searched the sea of faces below, almost desperately, for something—someone. Helmsworth. The name echoed in her mind like a tether to something real, something tangible. But he wasn't there. She didn't see the gleam of his helmet or the armor that had shone so brightly in yesterday's trial. Not that it would've mattered, all the cadets wore the same matching uniform now and he would be lost in the mix. Was he among them? And if so, which one? Why didn't he wear the banner sash she gave him so she could identify him? But then she knew why he didn't wear it. Because he simply wasn't there.

Her stomach twisted, a sudden weight settling deep within her, making it harder to breathe. Where is he? The other cadets and hopefuls had arrived, why not he?

The grand Herald took her hesitation as a cue to welcome her to the people. "Hear ye, hear ye, let us hear the inspiration and the words divinely bestowed by our very own Princess, Zelda Araleia Hyrule. For we gather here this momentous day, blessed above all others as the flickering flame of the chosen will light our path forevermore." He then bowed his head deeply and offered her the ledge to speak.

She still wasn't ready. Helmsworth's absence gnawed at her, subtle but insistent. She had imagined him standing below, his silent strength steadying her, grounding her in a moment where she felt she might falter. And now, without that familiar presence, doubt seeped in, curling around her thoughts like the mist that often cloaked the Whispering Woods beyond.

The crowd waited. Expectation hovered in the air, thick as fog, and she could feel it pressing down on her shoulders. Zelda swallowed, willing her voice to come, but when she opened her mouth, the words stumbled at first, clumsy and hesitant.

"My people of Hyrule," she began, her voice a mere tremor against the vast silence of the arena. "And to the brave pledges standing before us."

She forced her gaze to stay steady, though it felt as though every heartbeat sent a jolt of anxiety racing through her veins. She had to be strong. She had to be their princess, even when she wasn't sure how.

"This marks the beginning of the Trial of the Flame, a series of challenges that will test you in every way." She cleared her throat, hoping the movement would mask the uncertainty that had already crept into her voice. "The first of these trials I am told is the Trial of Courage, called the Forest of Dark Whispers, which begins this very hour."

Her gaze drifted, searching the sea of armor once more, even though she knew Helmsworth wasn't there. But it didn't stop her from hoping, from wishing he'd appear and somehow make this easier. She hardly knew him, yet even in their small time together, she felt a connection as if it were a lifetime. She couldn't explain it, not to anyone or herself. They were from different worlds, yet, in their own way, the same. He was expected to become a great knight, to join the ranks of those who conquered legends before. And she, was to be the first daughter of Hyrule, heir apparent to the Goddess Hylia herself and all that entailed. Each were expected a duty from them, each of them young and still in the flower of their youth. Each one wanting more than what their destiny demanded from them.

She awoke from her sudden pause by a cough echoing in the silent crowd, the hot of anxiousness growing in the air. The princess searched her mind for the right words to say but nothing came out. She knew what these trials were, but for some instance, her mind drew a blank. Was she really that nervous or was it the weight of everything else bearing down on her? She was only sixteen after all. Taking notice of her plight the Herald shuffled beside her and whispered what could only be encouragement; reminding her of what the first trial entailed.

"You will enter the Whispering Woods," she continued, her voice growing stronger. "A place where shadows move and the air itself carries secrets. You will face dangers, ones you may not be prepared for, but it is in the heart of fear that courage finds its flame. Myths as old as time speak of a legendary, great spirit that lives yonder in those woods. One shrouded in mist and forgotten to shadow," she said, pausing again, desperately trying to remember her lessons from when she was a little girl.

The Royal Scholar took that as his cue to whisper in her other ear. Now she remembered, subtly pushing him away. Zelda's chest heaved a breath before speaking again. "None who dared venture into those trees have yet returned to tell the tale. We pray that her holiness guides your steps with discernment against the mighty illusions within. May the Goddesses strength guide your hearts and keep you true to yourselves and for those who…-"

A flicker of movement caught her eye—a pledge shifting his stance below—and she hesitated. The crowd grew restless, looking over themselves or beyond the stands to what she was fixed on. Where are you? It was as though her very words were hollowing out, leaving her bare. The courage she had tried to summon within herself was slipping through her fingers, unraveling like loose threads on an old tapestry. It was then she wondered if he truly recovered from yesterday's battles? Did something happen to him? Something terrible?

She took a slow, deep breath, her eyes dropping to her hands gripping the railing in front of her. She was losing them. She could feel it, the quiet faltering of her own resolve mirrored in the stillness of the crowd. But she couldn't lose herself too.

"T—tomorrow will also bring their own challenges as the trials progress," she pressed on, her voice wavering, yet desperate to remain strong. However, before she could say more, Arasmus gave a stern look to the High Priest and Galivan took that as his cue to cut her off and whisper to her before she could continue.

With his breath hot in her ear with revelations, of the kind she had no idea about, Zelda glanced at them both, hesitated, pondering the implications but there was no time to dwell on such matters. Even now seconds ticked by, forcing her to continue her speech. This changes everything.

"I have been informed that a change has been made. I am told you will face the Trial of Wisdom, directly after the first trial with no rest." She said, to the sound of rising murmurs from the massive crowd. This was most unexpected and a massive breach in tradition. Just saying the words made her feel uneasy. Like a gut punch that knocked the wind from her. What was Arasmus, and the High Priest playing at? What scheme now was in the works?

The princess noticed the people's skepticism growing and wanted to quash any worry so she raised her voice, sweet yet firm to them and continued as if nothing were amiss. "This trial will take place where ancient ruins, now drowned by water, will challenge your minds and temper your spirit." Zelda paused for a brief moment, trying to understand the sudden departure from the plan. Why the sudden change in protocol? Why did her father, his cabinet and all those involved move up the schedule of the Trial of the Flame? What was such the hurry that these days and their festivities needed to end so soon? Is there something they know that she doesn't? Does Arasmus' note earlier have any bearing on this?

The princess shook her head and continued, fearing that delaying her speech any more would only instill more worry and doubt that something awry may be in the works. She cleared her throat, "There, through wisdom you will find only hidden secrets masked in words and riddles that only patience and clarity will solve. And afterwards, with little rest for the weary, the Trial of Power awaits to tests your strength in the grand arena."

She glanced once more at the rows of cadets, her words slower now, deliberate, as though speaking them too quickly might shatter the fragile hold she had over herself. "In that constructed colosseum, you will need both strength and strategy. You will face beasts, terrors, and your worst fears manifested. And through it all, if you make it thus far and survive, you will need to retrieve and protect a special prize—one that will test your ability to fight as one. Let your hearts not despair, for these tribulations can be overcome by those who master the three virtues of our land. For as legends say, the champions of these trials today are the heroes of tomorrow. Heroes we so desperately need safeguard this kingdom, if the great terror of our age is to truly come to fruition."

A beat of silence followed. The gravity of what's to come, the dread which has been foretold, becoming heavy upon their shoulders as they were reminded by it. She could feel her heart pounding, hear the rush of blood in her ears. They were all waiting for her to say something that would give them strength now. A hope. Something that would help them believe they were capable of not only accomplishing these trials this night but of their duty when the doom came.

"And remember," she whispered, the words barely a breath now, "these trials are not just a test of strength or intellect. They are a testament to your spirit. That through your shining spirit, your example to us all, we the people of this kingdom may find strength through that very spirit you share with us this following evening. By your faith and through your deeds to overcome all adversity, all the world gathered shall bear witness, far and wide, to the covenant and favor of her Holiness Hylia. That we are her chosen people, and we are not abandoned." Suddenly, Zelda found her voice after the invocation of Hylia. Something overcome her that she could not explain.

"And with that, I give you my own promise, as your Princess, I will be steadfast and devoted in procuring the power, the gift, that has been promised to my line since the dawn began. That through the power of my mother and her mothers' mother, I pray blessings shall rain down upon this kingdom, so that their guarding light may shield us from what is to come if it should ever come to pass."

Those last words tumbled strongly from her tongue, yet felt like a hollow echo of what she should have said, the conviction she had wanted to instill somehow lost in the haze of her own ever-present doubt. Should ever come to pass. Zelda blinked, her throat tight, but she had come this far. It was all becoming so real now. There was no turning back.

"I wish you all luck," she finished, the relief of nearing the end almost overwhelming. "May the goddess above guide you through her gracing light, and may your outcome be victory in her sight."

For a moment, the world stood still. She could feel the weight of the silence pressing down on her, waiting to see if it would break. And then, after what felt like an eternity, the applause rose—a polite sound, but it carried none of the weight she had hoped it would.

Zelda stepped back; her fingers numb as they slipped from the railing. Her chest felt tight, and a deep sigh of relief tried to work its way out, though she couldn't quite release it. The speech was done. She had done it, but it felt more like surviving than succeeding.

She turned from the balcony, away from the crowd that still felt like an ocean threatening to drown her. But her mind lingered on the space where Helmsworth should have stood, the absence of him pulling at her thoughts.

The applause from below still echoed faintly in Zelda's ears, though the relief of finishing her speech was fleeting. She hadn't even had the chance to gather herself when she felt Lord Arasmus, standing beside her, close the distance between them. His presence had always felt intrusive, a shadow at her side, and today was no different. But there was something more about him today, something deliberate and unsettling in the way his gaze lingered on her, calculating.

Before she could even process what was happening, he reached for her hand—her body stiffened as his fingers curled possessively around her own. His touch was firm, commanding, and though she hadn't invited the gesture, hadn't expected it, there was an undeniable pull to it. He was handsome—striking, even—and she couldn't deny that, despite the distaste she harbored for his character. The knot twisting in her stomach was more than just discomfort; it was the unsettling realization that, had he not been so insufferable, she might have felt drawn to him as so many others were.

"I give you, our Princess! The goddess showers her favor on her and speaks through her voice! Through her we are cleansed, and through her we shall be saved!" Arasmus's declaration boomed with confidence, his words laced with practiced charm, and the crowd drank it in. The lords cheered, their voices merging into the chorus, while the ladies in the audience fawned over his commanding presence at her side, wishing they were in her place, their admiration sparkling in their eyes.

Zelda's pulse quickened, her discomfort swirling with an unsettling awareness of how easily he commanded a room. Even she couldn't deny the magnetic way he stood beside her, as if the two of them were destined to rule together. But the thought only made the knot in her stomach tighten further, a reminder of just how dangerous Arasmus's appeal could be. He was winning them over, she realized. All a show.

Zelda's heart raced, not with the excitement that the people might have assumed, but with the rising wave of panic. What is he doing? Her eyes darted to the sea of faces, each one locked on them, oblivious to the disquiet boiling inside her. Her fingers trembled within his grip, but he held her too tightly, his strength unnerving. She should have pulled away, but the thought of making a scene, of being seen faltering again, held her in place. Her eye even spied a glimpse of her father's approval, high above in the stands as he saluted with a silent toast of his golden goblet along with his cabinet.

"Smile, Princess," Arasmus murmured low in her ear, his voice smooth but laced with something darker. "This is what the people came for. What they want to see. What they need to see, would you agree? A future queen needs to know her place. And soon enough, you'll learn yours." He didn't believe in the Calamity or the prophecies and legends. He believed in nothing except his own strength and ambitions.

Before Zelda could react, before she could wrench her hand free or find the words to tell him to stop, he spun her around to face him, his movements so swift and purposeful that she barely had time to process the shift. His face hovered close to hers, far too close. For a moment, the world slowed, and Zelda's heart pounded with sudden dread.

Then, in a flash of realization, she felt his lips pressed on hers.

The crowd erupted with cheers as though this were some grand display of affection, a show of unity between what they assumed would be Hyrule's future king and queen. But inside, Zelda's mind screamed. It wasn't just the shock—it was the violation. The heat of his mouth pressed forcefully against hers, his hands clamped around her waist, holding her in place as though she were some prop to be paraded about.

And then, his tongue. His vile, invasive tongue parted her lips, demanding entry, claiming what was never his to take. The taste of him—the sour, cloying taste of mint and the scent of sweet arrogance churned her stomach—invaded her senses, sending a wave of nausea curling in her gut. This was not how her first real kiss was meant to be. Not how she envisioned since she was a little girl.

No.

Zelda's instinct roared to life, her hands pushing weakly at his chest. But to the crowd below, it looked like an embrace, the perfect portrait of young romance and unity. She could feel their burning eyes on her, feel the weight of their expectations, but all she wanted was to shove him away, to scream that she was not his.

But her voice, the one she had struggled to find in her speech, abandoned her again. She couldn't move, couldn't pull herself from his grasp. And for the briefest moment, she hated herself for it. For being trapped in the cage of royal duty, of propriety, of expectation.

Just as the cheers reached a fever pitch, Zelda found her strength. With a swift jerk, she tore her mouth from his, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Her lips burned from the assault, and her chest felt tight as though she had just escaped a crushing weight. But the damage had been done—the people had seen what they needed to see. Her hand, nervous with sweat, slipped from Arasmus's grasp, trembling. Even her friends high up in the stands may have misconstrued what they saw, disbelief still in their gazes.

She stumbled back a step, but Arasmus, ever the performer, seized the moment. He turned to the crowd, his arm now wrapping around her waist as though to steady her, though it felt more like a binding. His other arm raised high in triumph, his voice ringing out over the arena.

"People of Hyrule!" he called, his voice full of charm and bravado. "Let us thank the goddess Hylia for this beautiful day, and for the trials that will forge the strongest of our knights! Alas though, it is time, me and the Princess must bid you all farewell to our seats, where we will watch eagerly with pride as they face the perilous Trial of Courage! Let the flames of valor burn bright this night and for all time!"

The crowd roared its approval, and Zelda felt herself shrinking beside him, small and silent. His arm was like iron around her, leading her away from the balcony and the cheers that were meant to celebrate her, but had only buried her deeper beneath the weight of her title. Even High Priest Galivan, cloaked in rich piety found pleasure in her discomfort, raising his goblet in celebration beside the happy couple. Savoring every sip as she shuffled away. To be honest, Zelda was amazed he could even bring his drink to his lips. His fingers were so bejeweled it was a miracle he could muster the strength to lift his hand. But that didn't matter now. What just happened?

Moments prior-

Back in the soldier's pit, where the supplies were and men suited up, Link and his squire were in a flurry of motion. Their hands were rifling through trunks, carts, and crates, each more frustratingly empty of what he needed. His armor—his uniform—nowhere to be found. Every passing second felt like another nail in the coffin. His brow furrowed deeper with each fruitless search, the nagging sense of something wrong creeping over him. And then, it hit him like a stone to the chest.

Regoso.

Of course. The mocking laughter, the sly smirks—he should have known. That's why Regoso and his pack of loyal followers had been sneering like they'd already won earlier. They did this.

A growl of frustration built in his throat, but he swallowed it down. There wasn't time to fume over it now.

"What are we going to do?" Jun's voice trembled with the beginnings of panic as he rummaged through another chest of soldiers' supplies, his small hands coming up empty. "We need to get you back. Your princess—I mean, the princess will be done any moment now! We're going to miss it!"

Link felt his jaw clench, the words "your princess" catching in his ears, but he ignored it. The kid was right. They didn't have time for this, and he couldn't let some petty prank keep him from being there when Zelda finished her speech. But his mind was already spinning, searching for an answer.

And then, like a flash of lightning, it struck.

"I know where my armor is." His voice came out firm, with a newfound sense of clarity cutting through the frustration.

Jun's head snapped up from the mess of supplies, his face etched with curiosity. "You do?"

"Yeah," Link nodded, eyes narrowing as the plan formed in his mind. "Hurry, follow me. There's no time."

Just about the whole kingdom roared in approval of the good news Arasmus declared to them.

The high lord began to guide her up the steps leading from the balcony, but Zelda spun and her eyes lifted, searching the crowd in one final, desperate attempt to find him. And then, there he was, —Finally, Helmsworth. He was far in the distance, standing at the edge of the column as he been there the whole time, clearly visible by the royal blue ribbon she had given him tied around his elbow.

Zelda's breath caught in her throat. Did he see? Would he understand? But before she could make sense of the moment, Arasmus' hand tightened around her waist, and she was pulled away, away from Helmsworth, away from herself.

With every step toward the royal box, the weight of what had happened settled deeper into her bones. She felt hollow, her lips sour with the memory of Arasmus' kiss, and her mind whirled with a thousand unspoken words. But for now, there was nothing she could do. Not here. Not yet. So she kept walking, her head held high, her heart beating wildly in her chest, wishing with everything she had that she were anywhere else.

Authors Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I will be picking up the pace with every chapter as we move along; but trying to keep all of what I outlined intact. Please, let me know your thoughts. It has been a while since I heard any feedback and that is the only way I can improve. Lastly, if you haven't already, check out my youtube channel if you'd like to support me there by listening to the audio version of this story; complete with voice actors for each character. It's a labor of love and it would mean the world if you stopped by. It's listed under my channel name Sir Link. The videos can be searched also under Zelda botw Sequel (Fanmade) Audiobook part 1. Under that same channel name. Thank you so much for being apart of this and reading. Your support is what gets this story more reach with every comment, like or kudos. So with that, I leave you until we meet again next time(Approximately three weeks). Stay well wherever you are on your travels in Hyrule- Sky

Chapter Text

Why we failed pt. 20

The Forest of Dark Whispers

Link stood among the cadets, his posture stiff and alert, though his mind was anything but. The festival grounds hummed with anticipation, yet everything around him felt muted—distant, like he was watching the world through a fog. His gaze drifted upward, following the figure of Princess Zelda as she ascended the steps back to her seat in the royal box. The cheers of the crowd were deafening, but they washed over him like a wave that never quite reached the shore. His chest tightened.

That kiss.

He had seen it, and now he couldn't unsee it—the way Arasmus had taken Zelda's hand, how easily he had turned her to face the people, the way his lips had claimed hers in full view of the kingdom. A knot twisted in Link's gut. He'd wanted to look away, but he hadn't been able to. His feet had stayed rooted to the ground, his eyes fixed on the scene as it unfolded. There had been no anger in him—no hot, jealous rage. Just confusion. Confusion that had settled deep in his bones and now festered there like an open wound.

What did that mean?

He replayed the moment over and over in his mind, dissecting it, searching for something that would explain why it had bothered him so much. He and Zelda barely knew each other—only a few fleeting conversations, really. And yet, those brief moments had stirred something in him, something he couldn't quite name. He had felt...connected to her in a way that didn't make sense. But now, standing here among the other cadets, watching her from afar as she reclaimed her place beside the nobility, he couldn't help but feel foolish.

Maybe I read it all wrong.

She was a princess, after all. Royalty. And Arasmus... Arasmus was everything Link wasn't—Regal, charming, connected and most important, nobility. Not just any nobility, but heir to one of three great houses of Hyrule. He belonged in her world, up on that balcony, while Link stood here, just another low born commoner among the masses. His stomach churned at the thought. He had no right to feel anything for her. And yet, despite all logic, despite everything screaming at him to let it go, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Had she wanted that kiss?

Link's jaw clenched as the memory of it flashed before him again. The way she had stiffened, just for a moment, before pulling away. It had been subtle—too subtle for most to notice. But he had seen it. She didn't want it, did she? Or was she just surprised? His mind wrestled with the question, doubt creeping into every corner. What if he was wrong? What if he was seeing things that weren't there? After all, what do I even really know about her?

He exhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat. It was a dangerous thing, to let hope take root. He had only known her for a handful of days. Whatever connection he thought he felt was likely nothing more than a passing moment. Perhaps he had misinterpreted the signs. Perhaps Zelda was exactly where she wanted to be—up there, beside someone like Arasmus all along.

Link's fingers curled into fists at his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking as he forced himself to focus. This isn't what matters right now. He had a role to play. His place was here, among the cadets, not in the royal box. Not by her side. He wasn't a noble, wasn't royalty, wasn't anything at all. Just another warm body sworn to take an arrow if need be. His world was down here, where steel and skill determined his fate, not bloodlines and certainly not grand destinies.

"Sir?" Jun's voice pulled him from his thoughts, the boy standing beside him with that same look of concern that had been there ever since Zelda had left the balcony. Link blinked, the weight of his thoughts lingering, but he managed a half-smile for Jun's sake. The others had already began to huddle around the commander to await instructions as those in the stands returned from their intermission.

"Time for me to go," Jun reminded him, shifting his weight awkwardly. "You going to be alright?" Link didn't respond. The boy's head tilted to stare up at Link's blank expression staring off into the yonder of the trees.

"Uh, Sir?"

Link shook his head for clarity and uttered, "Go on ahead. You know what to do." He paused briefly and reflected once more before turning to face him. "I must focus now. Thanks Jun and take care. Take care of yourself and her—"

"—You don't have to tell me twice, Sir, I got this handled."

Link nodded absently, his gaze drifting back to the royal box once more before snapping back to reality. Right. The trial. The reminder of what was coming next helped to ground him, though it did little to ease the ache gnawing at his chest. He had to let it go, at least for now. The trial was what mattered. Everything else... well, he would deal with that later.

Before the young squire could shuffle off, Link hollered back at him, causing him to spin around abruptly. "Good luck up there," Link said, his voice sounding surer than he felt. "Don't get into trouble. If you do, I'll know about it."

Jun grinned, as if trouble was his middle name. Then a sudden flicker of concern in his eyes as he glanced up toward the royal box. "I could say the same to you."

Link couldn't help but laugh at that, the sound of a welcome release of the tension that had been building inside him. But even as the humor lingered between them, he couldn't shake the uncertainty building in him. The trial loomed ahead, the weight of everything—Princess Zelda, that high Lord Arasmus, the sudden change to the festival rules, questions he didn't have answers to—pressed down on him.

Suddenly, Sir Athelon's voice cut through the crisp morning air, booming across the grounds, each word hitting with the force of a hammer. "Attention!" he barked, and instantly, the lines of cadets stiffened. To their front, Athelon's broad frame commanded their focus, every inch the hardened leader. Beside him stood Link's father, Commander Tye, Watch Captain of the Royal Guard and the man responsible for the king's personal detail. Link had always admired his father's unwavering composure, yet today, Tye's expression was off-kilter—eyes narrowed, lips a taut line, jaw clenched like he'd bitten down on something bitter.

The tension in his father's stance pricked at Link, filling him with a strange unease. Against his better judgment, Link stepped out of formation, instinctively moving toward him to ask what was wrong. But before he could take more than two strides, Athelon's voice lashed out like a whip. "And just where do you think you're wandering off to, pledge? Have a hot date with the goddess herself? Because I can send you to her right now if you'd like!" he said, finger tapping the hilt of his sword at his belt.

Link jerked to a halt, the force of Athelon's words snapping him back into place as he fumbled for an answer. "I, uh—"

"Return to formation, boy!" his father ordered, and though the words were meant as discipline, they felt like a blow. There was a coldness in Tye's tone that went beyond mere instruction, an edge that cut deep. His father's gaze landed on him, steely and unrelenting, a look harsher than Link had ever seen from him, so cold it almost burned.

"You think you're ready for this?" Tye's voice carried, not only for Link, but for every young pledge who dared think they knew what lay ahead. "As of this moment, none of you are men—not a single one of you. You have yet to earn that. Yesterday's trials were nothing but child's play. Contests for common rift raft. Mere trifles for the crowd's amusement. You on the other hand are to enter the elite," The watch captain said, as he took a bold step forward. "What's coming? That's the real test. And none of you have a clue what awaits you."

Link's stomach twisted under the weight of his father's words, yet there was something more gnawing at him. The tension in his father's face—the slight quiver in his clenched jaw—hinted at something else. Something that didn't belong to the trials or the tasks ahead. But whatever it was, Link's father had no intention of revealing it. With a sharp nod, Tye turned over the briefing to Athelon, his gaze sweeping past his son as if he were just another nameless cadet.

Athelon's voice thundered on, outlining the nature of the first trial, but his words quickly became a distant murmur as Link's thoughts drifted again to before. To her.

What did I really expect? Link thought, the familiar sting of doubt clawing at him. She is a princess, and he was just a commoner—a young man playing at something more. For all his skill, all his efforts, Zelda's world was one of nobility. One made up of crowns and titles, of people like Arasmus who commanded power with a mere glance. His world was here, in the shadow of the royal gallery, where blood and sweat and duty could only get him so far. Their kind were blessed by providence and ordained by lineage. Something he would never have. He swallowed hard, trying to shake off the bitter thoughts, but the memory of Zelda with Arasmus lingered, the dull throb in his chest returning.

"And you!" Athelon's voice ripped through his reverie, pulling him back to the present. The old knight's eye drilled into him, sparking with something close to disdain. "Do you think you have what it takes to win? And just where in Hylia's hell have you been anyway? You probably can't recite a single word I just said, can you?"

Link gulped under the weight of Athelon's gaze, struggling to muster a response. "I, um—"

Athelon sneered. "I sure as hell didn't say 'I, um.'" He looked ready to tear into Link again when another voice cut through the tension.

"Sir, perhaps I could—"

"No, you cannot!" Athelon whirled on the speaker, who Link quickly recognized as Sven. Poor Sven, who was already visibly shaking in his armor, his face a shade paler than usual.

Sven's voice died on his lips, his armor rattling under Athelon's withering stare. Tye's gaze settled on him too, a look of cold disapproval that left Sven visibly wilting.

"I know who you are, and I know your excuses," Athelon growled. "And I have time for none of them. You and Link over there—thick as thieves, aren't you? And hardly any better too."

Link squeezed a fist at his side, forcing himself to swallow the anger that flared within him. Thieves? The insult grated against his pride. He was nothing close to a thief; he'd always held himself to a code of honor, especially in matters of loyalty and duty. Was Athelon deliberately trying to rile him up? And if so, why him, why Sven—why not the others?

"Enough!" Athelon's voice rose above the grumbling cadets. He straightened, his posture stiff, his gaze slicing through them like a blade. "Listen up, and let's make this clear. Those who survive the tasks that await you will earn the greatest honor any man could hope for—a place in the Royal Guard." He turned, his eyes scanning the crowd, his tone sharp, calculated. "But let it be known—only one among you will be crowned champion, and to that victor will go the spoils."

A hush fell over the cadets, each one feeling the weight of Athelon's words. The crowds carried on behind him, face in their cups awaiting the revelry o come as he continued his address to the lads. The trials would be fierce; that much was certain. But the honor—Link's mind buzzed with the thought. A place in the Royal Guard. His gaze drifted upward, toward the royal box, where Zelda sat among the nobility, her face half-shadowed in the distance. Did she care about these trials? Or were they just another form of entertainment to her like the others?

Just as Athelon was about to delve into the details of the first trial, a disruption shattered the silence. From the stands, a flamboyant young man adorned in robes of satin and with a head of flowing, golden blond hair descended the stairs, heading directly toward the old knight and Tye with quick, urgent steps. Athelon muttered under his breath, irritation flaring in his eyes. "Sweet goddess, what in Demise's hell is it now?"

The young man approached with an air of importance, his chin lifted, his movements brisk. He ignored Athelon entirely, stopping directly in front of Tye. Link recognized him as one of the Herald's messengers, his clothing unmistakably fine and tailored to excess.

"Watch Captain," the messenger said, barely sparing Athelon a glance as he addressed Tye.

"Orders from—"

"Not now," Tye replied curtly, his expression darkening. "Sir Athelon is briefing the cadets."

"But, My Lord, it's urgent," the messenger insisted, his tone unwavering.

"I'm not a lord."

"Well, then, Sir," The man urged in a condescending tone.

Tye's jaw tightened and his mustache jolted, a warning flickering in his eyes. "I said, not now."

But the young man held his ground, his hand extending to offer a scroll with a royal seal, unmistakable in its rich, indigo wax. However, as Link observed closer, the seal was slightly different than the one he recognized. It looked as if two sigils marked the parchment. One he recognized and the other he wasn't entirely sure from that distance.

"I'm afraid I must insist, Commander," the messenger said, shoving the scroll into Tye's breastplate before making a swift exit, leaving Tye visibly disturbed by his sheer lack of respect for men in service.

Link's eyes flicked to the scroll, though he couldn't make out any more from his place among the cadets. But whatever was written there, it had clearly cast a dark shadow over his father's mood. Tye's fingers tightened around the scroll, his eyes scouring the message with an intensity that sent a ripple of unease through the ranks.

Athelon glanced sidelong at Tye, his expression unreadable, though it was clear the interruption had rattled the cadence of his speech. Link shifted uncomfortably as he watched his father's face fade from rigid displeasure to something else entirely—a cold, quiet fury. He'd never seen him look like this before.

Thirty seconds became a lifetime as the air around them thickened. Whatever tidings the royal box had seen fit to deliver, couldn't be good. Something was amiss, but Link couldn't begin to imagine what.

Link could feel his pulse thudding in his ears as he waited, watching the weight of the messenger's words settle over his father. Captain Tye's gaze lifted slowly from the parchment, his expression as dark and severe as a storm brewing on the horizon. When he spoke, his voice carried a weight that hushed the air around them.

"Plans have changed," he began, his tone as steely as his gaze. "The trial has been moved forward, and all three tasks will be completed tonight. Which you all have been made aware moments ago." He paused, letting the severity sink in. "This has never been done before and requires only the strongest among you to succeed. If any of you can manage it at all."

Link tensed, feeling a shift in the crowd of cadets around him, his own breath hitching at the announcement. Was that it?

Tye's hand tightened around the scroll as he continued. "What you don't know," he said gravely, "is that I am to leave this place immediately, and take the entire battalion of Royal Guardsman to quell an attack from pirates that has broken out near Cucco Cross, on the beaches of the Salty Shores in the Marshlands. There, I am to lead the vanguard. Petty-Lord Fendall is pleading for aid in repelling this incursion onto our lands. And seeing that neither Lord Chancellor Danarus nor Fendall's liege Lord Talin could muster their own men from their seats here beside the king, it is up to Royal Battalion to muster. And seeing it is that they are only accompanied by a retainer of their household guard here, it would take days for correspondence to reach their hold capitals. So, we must act in their stead. These orders come directly from the High Chancellor himself on behalf of our king."

The ripple of shock among the cadets was heard with gasps of bewilderment. Link's heart hammered in his chest, his mind reeling at the words. The entire battalion? It was unprecedented, unheard of. He glanced around at his fellow pledges, all equally dumbfounded. Why would they send the Royal Guard for this?

Link's instinct took over, and he stepped out of formation before he even realized it. "Fa—I mean, Watch Captain, permission to speak?"

Tye's glare could have cut stone. "No, you may not. This isn't your concern nor up for debate. These are my orders."

Link swallowed, the sting of dismissal sharp, but a nearby cadet spoke up, voicing the question they were all thinking.

"But, why the Royal Guard, sir?" The young man's voice wavered with uncertainty. "Isn't this a job for the regular army? For the lords' bannermen? We haven't seen a deployment like this in over a thousand years—"

Another cadet chimed in, "Royal Guardsmen never leave the capital except to escort the king or his heirs. Certainly, other Lords could rally up defenders, can't they? It goes against all protocol." Others nodded in agreement.

Captain Tye's patience snapped. "As of right now, none of you are anything. You will listen and do what you're told. Matters like these aren't for your judgment. They are for me and my men to decide."

"But, father, we were only—" Link's words spilled out before he could catch them, but his father's furious gaze cut him off.

"Silence, boy! Do as you're told." Tye's words landed with the force of a blow. "In the guard, we follow orders, no matter how strange or difficult they seem. It is not my place, nor yours, to question commands from the King or his cabinet. I follow orders. You'd do well to try it sometime—if you truly wish to stand beside your brothers in arms."

The insult stung. His father's words bore a bitter truth, one Link had wrestled with his whole life. The need to act on his own conscience, to do what he thought was right no matter the circumstance, even if it often clashed with the rigid obedience expected of him. It was a battle he'd fought since boyhood, and yet, here, standing under his father's glare, that struggle felt sharper than ever.

"In my absence, Sir Athelon will assume command of the remaining Crimson Cloaks here at the Capital," Tye clarified. And now, with the matter seemingly settled, he turned to gather his surrounding guardsmen, signaling for them to meet toward the edge of the festival grounds where they would mobilize to march out of the city. Link felt himself move, instinct propelling him forward, even as his mind screamed to stop. But before he could take more than a step, Athelon's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and unyielding.

"You heard the commander! Back in line, boy!" Athelon's eyes bore into him with fierce authority.

But Orin, standing beside him, spoke up in his defense. "But Sir, it doesn't make sense. None of this does."

"Be that as it may," Athelon replied with icy finality, "none of you are guardsmen yet. You have no say in the matter. Your only concern should be with the trials." His gaze shifted toward the oblivious crowd in the stands, who had no idea of the dire situation unfolding outside the protection of the capital, his tone turning mocking. "We wouldn't want to disappoint all the wonderful people who've come all this way to see you prove your honor, would we?"

The insinuation burned in Link's chest, and despite Athelon's words, he broke ranks again, urgency driving him forward. He marched up to the Master Knight, his voice low but urgent. "Sir, I must go and help the others in this task. Something's wrong. I can feel it in my bones. I can't explain it, but I think they're in danger." He took a steadying breath, feeling the weight of his decision as he added, "I know my actions leaving will disqualify me. But if that's the choice I got to make, then so be it, Sir."

Beside him, he heard Sven and Orin gasp in shock, the disbelief plain in their faces. Link was risking everything—his position, his future—to act on a feeling he wasn't even sure about.

But Athelon's face hardened, his voice like steel. "You will do no such thing. I'm not asking, I'm telling."

Link's defiance flared as he was about turn and walk away. "As you said, Sir, I'm not a guardsman yet. You can't command—"

The words barely left his mouth before Athelon's hand shot out like a cobra's strike, clamping around his wrist with bruising force. His grip was like iron, a shackle that held Link in place as his gaze, hard and unyielding, met Link's.

"Listen to me, lad," Athelon growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Your father gave me strict orders to keep you here, and I intend to see them through."

Link's gaze fell to the commander's hand, the fierce grip cutting off the blood flow to his fingers. He could feel the chill numbness spreading, but he didn't flinch, meeting Athelon's stare with equal intensity through his half helm. Something flickered in the commander's eyes—an understanding, a glimmer of shared concern that was quickly masked. What was that?

"Listen." Athelon's voice lowered to a whisper. "The old man agrees with you and shares your suspicions." His grip slackened slightly, a gesture almost of sympathy.

Link was shocked by this revelation but before he could pull away, the old knight continued. "But he knows that you're not ready yet. He needs real soldiers—soldiers who are fully trained, fully prepared. And more importantly, men who can obey orders without question. You're no good to him now if you can't complete this trial."

Link's eyes narrowed, the weight of Athelon's words pressing down on him. Not ready yet. And what was yesterday? A joke? I won the preliminaries! He thought despairingly. It then dawned on him. Nobody knows he joined the preliminaries, only Jun and his father.

Ignoring Link's inner turmoil, Athelon nodded to his right-hand man, Master Guardsman Finn, who nudged another guard to assemble beside him. "Finn, take your underwing Grinn and have a sniff about. Find out what's going on here as well and if there's any truth to the Watch Captain's suspicions, see if there's any fire in all this smoke."

Both men nodded, listening as Athelon laid out more instructions. "We need to know if this isn't just another order from above or something else that should worry us. Even more, we need to know if everything is alright here on our end too.

"After all, it's not like the castle court, let alone a single cabinet member to meddle in Guardsman affairs. Even if it is the Lord Chancellor. As you know, we serve only at the King's leisure. But now with this bold act of dispatching guardsman for active duty on his behalf, and to assist household soldiers and fight among the common fyrds of all things….It's unusual—and I don't like it one bit and neither does our Watch Captain. Report back to me anything you find, no matter how small a lead. See if you can put this boy's fear and all of ours to rest."

Finn and Grinn saluted, moving with grim determination. As they left, Athelon turned back to Link, his grip finally loosening. "Satisfied?" he asked, his voice softer but no less resolute. "I'll keep an eye out here, as will my men. If there's any truth to what you fear, we'll find it."

Link swallowed hard, feeling the fight seep out of him as Athelon's words settled in. He didn't trust easily, but Athelon's reassurance struck a chord. The commander had seen more battles than Link could count; he understood the weight of suspicion, the danger in disregarding it.

Athelon released him fully, his gaze steady. "Now, fall in line, and do your part. That's what your father needs. And that's what your brothers need. Trust me."

Moments earlier-

Zelda and Arasmus stepped back into the royal gallery and were met with a wave of admiration and approval from every corner. The young lord still held her hand, his fingers curled possessively around hers, a gesture that threatened to both charm and trap her. It took all of Zelda's poise to maintain her composure, to keep the serene smile on her face as though this display was her idea, as though she, too, was reveling in the stares and sighs of those around them. Somehow, she needed a way to turn this around to her benefit. But how?

Arasmus meanwhile wore a practiced charm as effortlessly as a tailored tunic, his expression radiating satisfaction with each approving nod cast their way.

As they approached, the King rose from his seat, lifting a goblet high in a toast. "To the happy couple!" he proclaimed, voice rich with pride. Around him, lords and ladies, dignitaries and emissaries, rose with him, their cups lifted in unison. Their voices joined in a jubilant chorus, the wine flowing as laughter and chatter spilling into the air.

Echoes of "Hoorah for House Hyrule and hoorah for House Draene!" bounced off the wooden ramparts. Zelda stiffened as she walked listening to their hollow praises, even observing the confused, blank stares from her friends seated at their table. Little did they know, she felt as awkward as they looked bewildered.

Just stay focused, Zelda, she told herself, resisting the urge to pull her hand free. Don't let it get to you. Don't let him win this round. She searched for an escape to sit among the safe company of her friends, her eyes scanning for a reason, any reason, to leave his grasp. But before she could quietly slip her hand from Arasmus, her father's commanding voice once again stole her plans.

"Come, my daughter!" he called, his grin wide and gleaming with satisfaction. "The midday is young, and so much more awaits in celebration! Friends have arrived in your honor!"

The unexpected call halted Zelda mid-step, and she blinked, caught off guard. Arasmus turned, a hint of surprise flickering in his expression as well, but she noticed the calculation in his gaze, how he took in her father's words with the shrewdness of someone who knew exactly how to play his hand. Sensing the shift in attention, he released her with an air of graciousness, letting her go with a subtle smile that suggested he was magnanimous enough to allow her a moment on her own. She pulled her hand back as naturally as she could, ignoring the eerie warmth his touch left lingering on her sweaty palm.

Zelda's gaze followed her father's to the guests he had spoken of—a towering figure stood by his side, one who seemed out of place amidst the silk-clad nobles and the ornamented hall. A Goron of all people. His laughter echoed through the hall, a deep, hearty bellow that rattled the very rafters, drawing stares and even some nervous laughter from other courtiers.

"Long time no see, little princess!" he called out, his voice booming and as warm as a midday sun, his face a map of weathered stone and warmth. She blinked, trying to place him, to dredge up some memory of a time they had met. The pieces danced just out of reach, hazy wisps that slipped away as quickly as she grasped them. But judging by the sparkle in his eye, he must've known her well.

Her father and the rest of his court were well into their cups, and the room had taken on that unmistakable hum of merry indulgence. She felt the weight of her father's and everyone else's gaze as she stood by the high table, suddenly the center of attention. She felt her cheeks glow a heated red by all their stares. Mustering as much grace as she could manage, Zelda gave a small, polite nod. "Forgive me," she began, "have we been acquainted before?"

The Goron's laughter roared louder, his expression one of good-natured shock, as though her question had been the most absurd thing he'd ever heard. "Do we know each other?" he echoed, incredulous, and laughed so heartily it seemed the walls themselves might shake in response.

Her uncle Arcturus, always one for theatrics, leaned forward with a mirthic grin. "Only the fiercest and jolliest Goron this side of the Dying Mountains!" he proclaimed, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

The Goron's expression shifted, his jaw setting in offense. "Who you calling jolly?" he growled, ripping a bite out of what looked suspiciously like a glowing ember of stone. His face turned hard, his gaze sharp as flint, and a tense silence settled over the table. He then stared down the prince for what seemed like an eternity. Neither one letting up on the other. Even the King watched with eager anticipation, holding his breath as if waiting for a storm to break.

Zelda froze, uncertain, her heart skipping a beat as her father, her uncle, and the rest of the table waited, watching the Goron's reaction in unsettled quiet.

Oh, Hylia's grace, she thought, panic sparking within her. Did I somehow insult him? Or worse, has my uncle? She felt the prickling of anxiety manifest in cucco bumps on her arms, a bead of sweat beginning to form on her brow as she prepared herself to stammer out a wave of apologies to dispel any tension. And then, the Goron's stern expression cracked like breaking stone, and he bust a gut laughing, his chuckles spreading like fire.

"Only jesting!" he roared, the laugh echoing through the hall, as others caught on and joined in with their own chortles and grins.

It took Zelda a moment to process, but relief swept over her as she realized it had all been in good fun. They had only been teasing, drawing her into their game. She let out a small laugh, and the weight of worry left her, mingling with a hint of embarrassment. The musicians resumed their melodies, their light-hearted melodies dancing through the hall once more as the atmosphere returned to one of revelry.

"I'm sorry Princess. I couldn't help myself." The Goron looked down at her, a knowing twinkle in his eye as he gave her a wink. "Should've seen the look on your face!"

Zelda managed another smile, letting out a laugh that felt both amused and embarrassed. Her heart still raced, but she could feel it settling, the lingering coziness of their laughter softening the edges of her nerves. And though she didn't remember this Goron's name or their past encounter, in that moment, she felt a strange sense of familiarity and ease, as she watched him embrace her loved ones. It was if he were a long-lost trusted friend.

"Never mind him, sweet niece," her uncle chimed in, his voice bright with mischief. "He's all powder and no boom, you'll see."

Laughter rippled through the royal table again, this time encouraged by the mighty goron. A sound bright and cheerful as the sconces flickering along the walls. Zelda found herself relaxing in the easy company of her uncle's joviality, even allowing herself a small reprieve as the Goron chortled, seemingly unfazed by the jab.

"I'll show you a boom, you old ruffian!" the mysterious guests declared to her uncle with a nudge.

Ruffian? Now that wasn't something she heard her uncle called every day. In fact, not ever.

She glanced up at their mysterious guest, catching a glint of mischief matching in his eye as he flexed his muscular arm with pride, his stony bicep rising like a mountain peak.

"But, Mister Goron," Zelda said, her tone light and curious, "you still haven't quite answered my question—"

The Goron lifted his arm higher, puffing out his chest with a wide grin, "—Of course we know each other! I'm Chief of the Hearty Gorons, the mighty Daruk! Why, your family and I go way back. Your uncle, even your father—they're my sworn brothers!" He leaned closer, his eyes warm with recognition. "Though I must admit, the last time I saw you, dear princess, you were naught but knee-high to a Bombuflower! My oh my, how you've grown!"

Zelda's curiosity piqued, her gaze locked onto him, blinking with genuine wonder. "A... Bombuflower?" she asked meekly, her head tilting with fascination. She'd never heard of such a thing. At least, not from any of the gardens she's been to or in any of the Royal Scholar's books.

"Why, yes—Bombuflowers!" Daruk declared, his voice dropping into a tone of mock severity as he explained. "You mean to tell me you've never heard of Bombuflowers? They used to sprout all over Death Mountain, like weeds! But now, they're rarer than a prime rock roast."

He paused, a shadow crossing his gaze. "They say it was the Great Snowfall of E'na Farore that did them in. Back in those days, very long ago, the mountains were cloaked in deep permafrost that ran thick as iron, and, well, those flowers hate the chill as much as we do. We Gorons fortunately recovered, but sadly, I can't say the same thing about our sacred flowers. They are as rare a sight as the princess standing before me now."

Zelda froze, taken off guard by the compliment as all the eyes fell upon her, each gaze like a weight she felt settling on her shoulders. She tried to keep her composure, the dutiful smile in place, though she could feel her cheeks heating again.

"As a matter of fact," Daruk continued adding levity, "I used to pick you up and carry you around just like this! Do you remember? You were quite small." With a grand flourish, he hoisted a small keg from the table and set it on his shoulder, grinning proudly. "I swear, you loved it back then, when you were just a little thing!" He gave a full belly laugh again, reminiscing about the good old days. "I mean, you still are just a little princess," he said, correcting himself. "In fact, you use to call it being 'Queen of the mountain', goro!"

A vague remembrance flashed in Zelda's memory at Daruk's mention, but burned away like morning mist as quickly as it came. All she knew that for a brief moment, the recollection felt warm and as cozy as a campfire. She must have been very little indeed.

"I'm afraid she's a bit too grown up for that now, isn't she?" her uncle chimed in, a playful glint in his eye. "After all, she's six and ten today, and heir to the goddess to boot!"

"Yup, and I wouldn't have missed it for the world!" Daruk boomed. Zelda watched as he exchanged a merry glance with her uncle. "Though, I must apologize for the delay in my arrival, Princess. That being said, nothing was going to stop me from rolling down the mountain to be here, not even a blizzard. Especially when I heard your rascal uncle would be here, too!"

"Is that so?" Arcturus ribbed, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Are you sure you came just to see your old friend. Or could it be something else you desire?"

Zelda blinked, trying to make sense of their exchange, but her bewilderment must have shown because Daruk leaned forward in his seat toward her with a conspiratorial grin.

"You got me!" Daruk said, raising his burly hands in mock surrender. "Not every day I get to enjoy a feast like this," he explained, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "A premium prime rib rock fillet is a delicacy we Gorons can't resist. Trust me, little princess, they're the stuff of legend! Why, even old King Dodongo himself would've been envious of tonight's feast."

"Prime rib rock fillet?" Zelda repeated, her curiosity piqued, the name alone intriguing enough. She hadn't even managed to process the unfamiliar names and stories he'd mentioned before yet. Bombuflowers, King Dodongo… It was as if a hidden world lay within their laughter and half-spoken memories, a world she could glimpse only in pieces.

"Yes, mined only from the darkest frozen caverns of Snowpeak on Thunder Mountain, near your uncle's keep," Daruk said with reverence, nodding toward him. "And dear old Arcturus here is smart enough to bring some to the capital when it's roasting season!"

Her uncle raised his goblet with a jovial grin. "Only the best for my friends!"

A feeling of belonging settled over the table, a camaraderie that seemed both ancient and timeless. And though Zelda was left standing, unsure of her place in their shared memories, she found herself smiling, drawn to the easy friendship between Daruk and her uncle.

The King's voice, gentle but firm, cut through the merriment. "Come, my dear, have a seat with us," he said, his eyes warm and inviting. Though unbeknownst to the others, she caught the flicker of something else hidden behind them—Something only she knew all too well growing up. An unspoken reminder of 'Please behave yourself, Zelda Araleia, and do your part to be the princess they expect you to be'. "You may rejoin your friends during the intermission."

Zelda dipped her head in acknowledgment, sensing the subtle command in his words. She moved to the seat Arasmus had saved for her, where he waited with his ever-present smile, his eyes glinting with self-satisfaction. She took her place beside him, her hands folded in her lap, even as her heart tugged her attention back to her friends.

Purah, watching from afar, seemed to understand her plight , practically left alone with strangers aside from her uncle and father. With characteristic boldness, she made her way over to the royal table, slipping into a seat nearby, the corner of her mouth quirking up in mischief as she settled in.

She raised her brows at Zelda, her gaze full of playful inquiry, a silent question glimmering there:So, what was that about with Arasmus on the balcony? Is there something I should know? What's gotten into you? What ever happened to—

Zelda's expression remained perfectly composed, though she returned Purah with a swift, defying and pointed glance that said,Don't you dare ask.

Purah, loyal as ever, merely gave Zelda's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, her eyes softening. She also changed the subject. "A pity your champion Helmsworth won't be participating in the trial today," she murmured with a touch of sympathy. "I know how much it meant to you to see him try. But perhaps, on the morrow, we could pay him a visit back at the infirmary of the castle?"

Zelda shook her head slightly, fighting back a pleased smile. The truth she had kept to herself felt like a small victory, a tiny spark of joy she couldn't quite suppress. "Actually, you'll be surprised to hear that he will be in the trial. He's all recovered and ready to face the tests. He's going to become a guardsman after all it would seem."

Purah's face lit up in shock, her enthusiasm mirroring Zelda's as she whispered excitedly, "W-what a wonderful turn of events! Who knew he had it in him? Are you sure? How? I thought he was—"

Zelda's smile grew, her voice soft yet certain. "I saw him! Just as we made our way back."

Just then, a sudden, choking coughing fit broke into the girls' shared excitement, drawing their attention. The sound came from Arasmus, who had been leaning toward a dignitary, his voice low and assured—until now. His head snapped around, his over-confident composure slipping as he struggled to swallow a morsel of apple in his throat. With a faintly reddened face and a barely concealed look of irritation, he managed to clear himself, the noise sounding more like a clumsy bark than a dignified cough.

"So," he began, his tone cutting through the conversation as he regained his air of superiority. "That swordsman made it after all?"

Zelda didn't miss the tension hiding in his eyes, and she couldn't suppress the gleam of satisfaction in her own. "That's right," she replied, her voice bright with pride as she leaned forward, directing their gazes with a pointed finger to the ranks below. "He's the one with the blue sash, near the back—do you see him?"

She relished in the flicker of red that crept up Arasmus's neck as he followed her hand, the hidden agitation he desperately tried to mask. "Isn't it wonderful?" she added with mock innocence, letting her words twist like a thorn. She knew that his interest in her was much more about power than attraction, and to him, Helmsworth represented a threat to both. That only made her satisfaction grow.

Across the table, the High Seneschal caught Arasmus's displeasure and raised a brow, struggling to hide his own curiosity. A brief, loaded glance passed between him and Arasmus, a silent exchange that hinted at something more. Arasmus's stare was sharp, almost accusatory, as if silently demanding, 'Why is that Helmsworth back in the tournament? I thought your medicine man took care of it?'

The Seneschal merely offered a slight shrug, masking a flicker of amusement beneath an expression of feigned bewilderment. Ah, let the drama unfold,he mused privately, intrigued. This Helmsworth was proving far more interesting than he had anticipated.

Zelda turned back to Purah, her excitement rekindling at the thought of her champion on the field below and other fascinating news. "Have you ever heard of a Bombuflower?" she asked, her eyes alight with the thrill of discovery. "Daruk, Chief of the Gorons, mentioned they used to bloom atop Death Mountain ages ago. I can't help but wonder what they were."

Purah closed one eye thoughtfully, fiddling with the tiny recorder she always seemed to carry, her fingers tapping rhythmically against its wooden surface as if it were a cherished toy. "Hm, you may have stumped me there, Princess." She adjusted her spectacles, squinting as if the memory was hidden just beyond reach. "Though, I think my sister mentioned something about them once. A volatile species of crop, prone to exploding on impact, if I recall correctly. Then again," she shrugged, "I could be wrong. You'd have to ask her. She's the expert on historical records and the… lesser-known plants, shall we say? I prefer to study things with practical applications. Mechanisms and tools for today's world." She flashed a wry smile. "Much more practical, don't you think?"

Before Zelda could respond, Arasmus leaned forward, his voice slipping between them with that familiar, smooth interruption. "Speaking of flowers," he drawled, a sly grin spreading across his face, "it appears the Lord of Roses himself has decided to grace us with his presence."

Zelda and Purah both turned, watching as the new arrivals made their way along the table, greeting each noble in order of status. They moved with a practiced elegance, heads bowed and murmured pleasantries exchanged with each person they passed until finally reaching the royal family. The eldest was Lord Sylvan of House Illiastar, the slight gleam of his silver, ornate circlet catching the light, followed closely by his younger brother, Sephryn, who lingered at Zelda's gaze a beat longer than propriety might allow.

Leaning in close, Arasmus murmured in Zelda's ear as if he were sharing some closely guarded secret. "Would you look at that, my Sundelion," he whispered, his tone almost mocking. "It seems his young brother, the poet, has taken quite a shine to you. Poor fool—doesn't he realize your hand is already accounted for this evening?"

Zelda barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes, biting back a retort as Arasmus's father's voice cut through the air. Lord Danarus, the High Chancellor, was rarely one for idle chatter, and his quiet authority commanded attention. A royal guardsman, clad in the distinctive crimson cloak of his position, appeared at his side, bending low to receive a set of orders. Zelda's gaze shifted to the powerful man with salt-and-pepper hair giving silent commands, her curiosity piqued, his features sharp and hawk-like, with piercing eyes set beneath a brow as unyielding as chiseled stone. It was uncommon for a member of the Crimson Cloaks to serve anyone outside of the royal family, herself included.

"Deliver this immediately to the man below with the Grand Herald, he'll know what to do," she overheard Lord Danarus instruct in a low, commanding voice that brooked no dissent. "These are for the Watch Captain's eyes only."

The guard hesitated, his eyes flickering to King Rhoam, as if seeking confirmation. The King, observing the interaction, waved his hand with a faint smirk and a hint of exasperation. "For heaven's sake, man, he is the High Chancellor and wielder of the Royal Scepter. Do as he says. Can't I enjoy one evening for myself?" he instructed, his voice carrying a note of indulgent authority, though his fingers slipped just enough to spill a bit of wine from his cup.

Zelda seized the moment, her tone innocent but her curiosity sharpened to a fine edge. "Before he leaves, my lord, is there anything we should worry ourselves over?" She glanced at Danarus, her brow lightly furrowed. "You look as if something's wrong."

Danarus paused, his hand lifting slightly, halting the Crimson Cloak for a moment. He turned back to Zelda, his smile perfectly even yet laced with a barely concealed amusement. "Nothing to fret over, dear princess I wouldn't want to bore or bother you with such things. Just a matter of military movements—a dry topic, I assure you, and one unfit to cloud a day that belongs to you." His eyes sparkled with ironic mirth, as though the very notion of explaining himself was something of a joke.

"Oh, it's no bother at all." Zelda's voice was bright, her smile demure but tinged with something sharper. "I actually don't mind hearing about my kingdom's affairs from time to time. And if it's as simple as you say, or if it's not too confidential for listening ears, I'd love to hear more." She lifted a brow in practiced, polite sarcasm. "Don't worry, my lord. I'm sure I can keep up."

A small smile curved at Danarus's lips as he took a bite from his trencher, savoring the appetizer of venison—charred to savory perfection on the outside, juicy tender within. "I'm sure you can, Princess Zelda," he replied with mild amusement. "I meant no offense."

"None taken, my lord." Zelda returned his gaze with a sweet, fluttering smile, but her eyes held steady, measuring. Her lashes dipped ever so slightly, but her resolve did not falter. Around the table, the others leaned in, caught in the exchange. She could feel Arcturus's eyes gleaming with intrigue, while Arasmus sat beside him, watching her intently, his fingers wrapped in a tense grip around his goblet. Daruk's face lit up with a hearty grin, clearly enjoying the scene, while Purah's face was aglow with silent encouragement.

"Zelda." The King's voice was a low, almost inaudible growl, his gaze darkening in a sidelong glance. "Enough."

Danarus simply raised a hand, signaling to the King that all was well. "It's quite alright, Your Majesty." He turned his gaze back to Zelda, his stare keen and impenetrable. "Very well, if you must know." Resting his goblet on the table, he spoke with deliberate weight. "We've received reports from the western shores at Salty Cove of an incursion upon our lands. Tamarizee pirates from the Ousted Isles have made landfall, raiding and pillaging nearby villages and hamlets near Cucco Cross. Petty Lord Fendall has requested our aid in repelling this threat."

The table was taken back by the news but Zelda still cleared throat to speak. "How could that have happened?" she asked, her tone genuine with concern, though a tinge of suspicion lay beneath her words. "Those islands are far from our shores to the north."

Danarus leaned back, an edge of satisfaction glinting in his eyes as if enjoying her pursuit. "They seized an opportunity while most of our main forces are stationed near the borders of the Scourgelands, clear across the kingdom." He raised a brow, as though expecting her to question further. "Our patrols there have faced Yiga incursions as well as other disturbances of late, and the skirmishes there have taxed us. So, with your father's council, I suggested that the Royal Guard be mustered to silence this threat at Cucco Cross. They are closest and would be of best use. A swifter solution than rallying Lord Talin Tarble's bannermen or calling back my own retainers from the Stonelands."

Zelda's gaze narrowed, undeterred. "But, the entire battalion here, my lord?" she asked, her voice light, but her eyes conveyed a deeper skepticism. "And I thought patrols in the borderlands were mainly ceremonial. Why do you still have such a large mass of troops posted there? How come am I just barely hearing this?"

Danarus's expression remained smooth, amused even. "I'm only sending Royal Guardsmen who aren't essential here, Princess. A handful will remain, but the majority will be dispatched to aid Lord Fendall where they are sorely needed. There's no need to fear for your safety, Princess. My household guard, as well as the retinues of the two other High Lords and the common watch, are more than capable to protect the capital." He nodded to Commander Fywell across the table. "After all, he tells me that the Watch Captain's Royals have been itching for some real action. So, I figured why not give them crack at the enemy for a change."

"But why dispatch the Royal Guard when the Marshland Fyrd could be called upon?" Zelda suggested, her tone mild but her eyes flashing with challenging determination. "They're much closer."

The faintest flicker of amusement passed over Danarus, softening the lines on his face as he took in her suggestion. "Ah, nothing escapes you, does it, Princess?"

Zelda lifted her chin, her smile both sweet and challenging. "I do have a mind, my lord, and eyes that can read a map. I know the distances. Lord Fallon and Lord Myrtle are a day's ride at most from Cucco Cross. Surely, they would be more effective—"

"Zelda," her father interjected, his tone a low, admonishing rumble. "There is a time and place for these discussions."

"Father, it's only a suggestion," she replied, trying to temper her tone while holding his gaze.

Danarus seized the moment, his tone dropping to something almost flattering. "I see now why my son is so captivated by you, Princess. Not only do you possess a beauty worthy of poetry, but you have a sharp and astute mind to match. You'd make an excellent commander yourself, if not for you being a lady."

Zelda could feel the hot air of his compliments, but she kept her expression politely composed, offering him a small, impassive smile. He was observing her as though she were a glittering new prize, and the thought grated against her pride. He may as well be admiring a new tool to use, she thought, resisting the urge to clench her fists beneath the table. Instead she relaxed and listened.

Danarus's tone dropped to one of calculated diplomacy. "But to your question—didn't you, only yesterday, proclaim the Royal Guard the finest fighting force in all of Hyrule? I mean, after all the support you threw behind that would-be guardsman I heard about."

Zelda hesitated to deflect, her response caught in her throat.

"Then surely we should send the best, wouldn't you agree?" he pressed, his voice deceptively smooth. "Especially given the mounting tensions in the northeast at this current time. My own soldiers are stationed there, and they cannot abandon their posts. A tragedy would surely ensue if they did."

"But why such a force for mere pirates?" Zelda asked, not dropping her line of questioning. "Surely they don't require such… heavy-handed reinforcements."

Danarus's gaze was impenetrable as he replied, "On the contrary, Your Highness, I have advised your father to levy more conscripts. Our enemies may be allying themselves to achieve a common goal."

A chill trickled down her spine. "Forgive me, Chancellor, but… it sounds like you're suggesting a war may be on the horizon?"

Danarus's smile was calm and dismissive. "Nothing to concern yourself over, dear Princess."

The Crimson Cloak had been waiting patiently all the while, his hand extended to receive the orders. Danarus gave the parchment a final glance before handing it to him. "You have your orders. Treat them with utmost care and deliver them with haste. The detachment is to leave immediately."

Zelda reached forward, almost instinctively, as if to delay the guard's departure. "But… what of the Festival? Shouldn't a matter of this severity take precedence over the celebrations?"

Danarus looked at her with a wry smile, his tone reassuring, though his eyes held a certain coldness. "Princess, this evening is for you, for the young. Let others bear the burdens of state tonight. Everything is under control."

Zelda eased back in her seat, though her mind continued to whirl with the new information. She forced a pleasant smile as she addressed him one last time. "Pardon my dismay, my lord, but it's difficult to enjoy myself knowing such dire matters are unfolding outside the comforts of home."

Danarus's expression didn't waver. "It is not your burden to bear, Princess. Lay your worries to rest."

"But I am the princess, who is not to worry about their people if not me—" Zelda began with a hint of defiance, though her voice barely above a whisper and her resolve momentarily flickering.

"—And I am your father and the king," Rhoam interrupted, his voice a stern rebuke as he set his goblet aside. He had heard enough. "Lord Chancellor Danarus assures us that all is well, and that is enough. Isn't that right, Chancellor?"

Danarus inclined his head to the king. "Most certainly, Your Majesty."

Once again, her words were stilled, her thoughts pressed back into silence. How many times had she been made to feel this way? Relegated to a role—a symbol, nothing more. A gilded banner for the people. Once more his cabinet only saw her for what she represented, not for who she was. And certainly not as someone who had their own ideas or should concern herself with matters of true consequence. She could remember, even as a child, being told to step back, to hold her questions—"Not now, Zelda." "It's not for you to worry about." She swallowed against the bitterness on her tongue, anger flickering beneath her skin, but forced herself to respond with a quiet, subtle nod, a rehearsed show of grace.

The King nodded, his tone softening only slightly as he addressed Zelda. "Then let us put an end to these grim matters and enjoy the festival, my dear. That is an order."

He glanced around the table, his eyes lingering on her as he continued. "Lord Danarus is the commander of the Seven Legions and of all the Hylian hosts, second only to me. He is more than capable."

"You honor me, Sire," Danarus replied with a small, calculated smile and tilt of the head.

"Now," the King continued, raising his goblet once more, "let us enjoy the day in good company."

Arasmus joined in with an easy, confident smile. "Oh, I have no doubt she'll enjoy herself, isn't that right, Sundelion?" He placed his hand atop hers in a show of cozy solidarity, his fingers pressing just enough to hold her in place. "She was merely curious, that's all," he added, his voice pitched to sound indulgent, as if humoring her. He leaned over and pecked a light kiss on her cheek, his gesture casual, almost dismissive, casting her concerns and suggestions of stratagem earlier as the mere flights of fancy of a naive girl. "Leftover nerves from her speech, perhaps? She did tell me on the carriage ride here how much she prepared for them." he suggested to the other guests, as though his 'defense' somehow softened his condescension.

Zelda sat still, her expression carefully composed as she surrendered to his advances, her mind already turning to the next hand she could play. She glanced around the enclosure, hoping to catch Purah's eye—only to find her seat empty. Daruk and her uncle were deep in their own lively game of Keaton and Cuccos, their laughter spilling over the table. Her options dwindling, Zelda kept her gaze poised, unwilling to betray her frustration, though her heart quietly sank.

Seeing the truth of her feelings hiding behind her eyes, Arasmus turned from listening to others chattering and whispered to where only she could hear. "Come now, Princess, Don't look so glum," he murmured, his lips so near her ear that she fought the urge to recoil. "After all, who knows? Perhaps if you give me a chance, you'll come to find me endearing too." His chuckle was soft but brimming with confidence. "I know the other ladies certainly do."

Zelda blinked, astonished by his self-assuredness, but she met his gaze with a practiced sweetness, refusing to let him see her unease. "Then perhaps you shouldn't keep them waiting," she replied, her tone cheerful, though every word hinted at her growing disinterest. "They might be missing your company."

But before anyone could continue their conversations or their cups, the regal call of horns echoed through the venue, sweeping over the gathering like a herald of ancient triumph. The sound resonated deep within the wooden walls and pavilions nearby, commanding the attention of every soul in attendance. All eyes turned to the field below, where the cadets stood at the ready, their armor gleaming under the setting sun. The Trial was about to begin, and with it, the cadets would soon face their first formidable challenge—an initiation into courage that would test both heart and steel.

In the thick of it all, Link fought the urge to break ranks and join his father, even against his better judgement. Instead, he stood steadfast and looked onward to what was set in motion for him. All he could do was hope his gut was wrong.

Facing the woods, the young men felt the weight of their destinies pressing upon them. Before them lay the dark expanse of the forest, a tangled labyrinth of tree trunks and foliage thick as pitch. Shadows clung to the boughs, twisting like the whispers of forgotten souls, and the only light came from torches marking the entrance paths, flickering against the looming wall of trees.

Each pledge would step into that dark unknown alone, their paths unique, yet all winding toward the same goal—a prize hidden deep within. The Sacred Flame awaited them, a token of valor and a testament to their courage. It was no ordinary fire, but the mighty Flame of Farore, an ancient torch that ignited only once a century, it's viridescent light consuming any unworthy and blazing a path for the bold.

With the final call to honor sounded, delay was no longer an option. The Forest of Dark Whispers awaited, its depths silent, its shadows eager for the first daring steps of those who would seek its sacred treasure.

Authors Note: I hope you enjoyed this bit. I finally finished with all my steadier paced chapters that I have drafted and now can move on the story at a quicker pace to get to the climax of this arc. Then we can return to the main story in the present. I promise, the wait will be worth it. That being said, would you all prefer smaller chapters and more frequent drops, or larger chunks but at lesser intervals? I can try to make chapters shorter and bite sized and then post them if that's what folks prefer. Let me know your thoughts and also let me know and more importantly, let others know what you think of this fairytale of Zelda set in the Breath of the Wild world. Lastly, if you do enjoy this work, you can support me by following the youtube channel(Sir Link) and giving the audio version of this story a listen. Thanks so much! Stay well, wherever you are in Hyrule, friends!

Chapter Text

Starry Knight

"Tell us the story again, Zamma—the one about the golden light, and the legend," the little girl pleaded, her eyes wide and luminous beneath a tumble of chocolate curls.

Beside her, her twin brother nodded eagerly, tugging a colored quilt up to his chin as if to contain his excitement. "Please?" he echoed, his small voice filled with hope.

The thin, old woman smiled warmly at the pair nestled in the grand canopy bed. The room was a haven of comfort, with the fireplace casting a gentle, orange glow that danced upon walls adorned with tapestries of Hyrule's storied past. Beyond the tall windows, rain tapped a soothing rhythm against the glass, and distant thunder murmured like an old friend.

"I don't know, my dears," she began softly, feigning reluctance. "It's quite late already."

"Please? Great grandmother," they implored in unison, their voices sweet as the chiming of tiny bells.

Zamma chuckled, her resolve melting like morning mist. "Oh, very well," she relented kindly, adjusting the shawl around her shoulders as she settled onto the edge of the bed. "But only if you promise that afterward you'll go straight to sleep. You know your mother doesn't want you up at this hour, spoiling your supper with tall tales."

"We promise, Great Grandmother," the little girl declared earnestly, though her fingers crossed mischievously behind her back beneath the covers.

Her brother nodded solemnly, but a playful gleam danced in his eyes. "Cross our hearts!"

"Very well, then." Zamma leaned in conspiratorially as if to tell a cherished secret. "Long, long ago, there was a sweet little princess just like you." She playfully tapped the girl's nose gently with her finger, eliciting a giggle. "Though I must say, you are far more adorable," she added with a wink.

"Grandma!" the girl protested with a laugh. "That's not how the story goes!"

Her brother chimed in, wriggling under the blankets. "Yes, Zamma, tell it right!"

Zamma raised her hands in mock surrender. "Well, it's true," she confessed with a twinkle in her eye. "But as you wish." She took a moment to gather her thoughts, her gaze drifting to the flickering flames in the hearth. Shadows played across her timeless features, hinting at the depths of memory hidden behind her emerald eyes. "Once upon a time, there was a little princess, just like you. And—"

"—Did she marry the prince?" the girl interjected, her excitement spilling over, eyes sparkling with innocent wonder.

A gentle silence settled over the room and Zamma's smile softened, and for an instant, her gaze seemed to journey far beyond the rain-streaked windows to somewhere distant and unseen. Memories unfurled like petals—where the echoes of laughter could be heard again, and the warmth of a hand could be felt entwined with hers once more. There she remembered and watched behind twinkling eyes a shared promise whispered under starlight when all hope was lost—a fleeting kiss.

The old woman sighed as the old, familiar ache brushed against her heart with a tender sorrow intertwined with joy. The feelings lingered briefly, then faded softly, like the last notes of a cherished lullaby she nearly forgotten.

"Oh, my dear, sweet child," she whispered, her voice tinged with wistful affection. "He was much more than that. More than any prince could ever hope to be."

The twins exchanged a curious glance before turning their rapt attention back to her. "What was he then if not a mighty prince?" the boy asked softly.

Zamma's eyes danced with a secret only she knew. "He was a boy, not unlike you." she said now poking her brother. "Though he was much bigger than you are now. What might you be when you're older, perhaps. But most of all, he was a hero," she said, her words wrapping around them like a warm embrace. "Brave and true, with a heart that shone brighter than the light of the seven stars of the maidens themselves."

Outside, the storm whispered against the old stone walls, but within the cozy chamber, time seemed to slow, each moment etched with meaning. The children listened intently; their earlier restlessness replaced by a quiet wonder.

"Tell us more," the girl urged, her voice barely above a whisper.

Zamma nodded gently. "Our story begins on a night much like this one, when the winds spoke of change, and the seven stars foretold a destiny unlike any other...Back then there were seven stars for seven maidens. Each a diamond in the sky. For the wizard's foretelling spoke of a whisper, of a dark night. When the dreams of children were swallowed by nightmares."

The small girl glanced up to her with the most earnest eyes she ever saw. And in that moment she knew, the ever present feeling she endured for so long, shimmered back in little eyes, fleeting and fading, the longing for hope of a tomorrow that would never come.

"And the wizard said, 'You will not—'"

authors notes- I know, not the chapter you may have expected. However, there is a rhyme and a reason to all this. Everything past or present will all make sense by the end of the story. Every mystery will come to a light, big or small. This has all been thoroughly worked out for years. The climax of this arc returns in the next one. More to come very soon. ; )

Chapter Text

Dear Friends of Hyrule,

I know many of you were expecting a new chapter drop, and trust me—I would love to have delivered it straight to your inventory by now. But alas, I'm still deep in the Lost Woods, navigating the latest chapter for the main story and also juggling the side novel (Adults only… ahem).

Thank you all for your patience. I promise, I'm working hard to bring the next piece of this epic story to life. The challenge isn't a lack of ideas—it's that I'm having too many ideas. Like Link facing a slate full of items, I need to decide what to keep and what to drop, carefully weighing which choices will strike the hardest and leave the greatest impact on the story going forward.

That process has slowed me down more than I have thought. More than a stalfos on a stormy night I suspect. I sincerely apologize.

To add to the mix, I've conjured up two different endings for this 100-Year Memory Arc, and I'm teetering on the edge of deciding which path to take. Like Link in the Forbidden Forests, there are many choices to take. I will have the next chapter out to you all hopefully by next weeks end.

Thank you again for your understanding and support. Your enthusiasm keeps this journey alive, and I can't wait to share what's next. My overall goal is to finish the book by 2026.

Until then, safe travels through Hyrule wherever your quests may lead.

— Sky
Writer, Lore-Seeker, and Occasional Cucco Wrangler

Chapter Text

Why we failed pt. 21

False Flags on the Sunset

Commander Tye stood atop the bluff, staring down at Salty Point with narrowed eyes and a sour twist to his mouth. Below, the coastal village sat peacefully nestled against the Wandering Sea, its waters shimmering sapphire beneath a blue sky. White gulls spun lazily overhead, their soft, feathered wings blending seamlessly into the few low-lying clouds that drifted like pillowy sails across the horizon. Their carefree cries echoed gently, fading as they disappeared momentarily among the cotton-white formations, making it impossible to tell where bird ended and cloud began. Waves also tumbled gently upon the rocky shore, rhythmic and calm. It would have been a pleasant view—idyllic, even—were it not for the dark suspicion gnawing at his gut.

Four days. It should have taken half that time to reach this forsaken spit of coast. But no, the cursed Marshlands had other plans. Swamps that swallowed boots whole, bogs that sucked down horses with malicious glee, and riverboat men more treacherous than helpful. Each one more determined than the last to loot the army rather than help. Every mile had been a misery. His men, used to clear skies and broad fields near the capital, had trudged wearily through muggy air thick as stew, swatting bugs and cursing foul water that stank of rot. If only we had more time, he realized. More time to prepare for such a campaign, but orders were orders, and the command was to move with all due haste. And so, he did just that.

Fortunately, now that they've arrived, there is some respite. Fresh sea air now caressed his scarred face, sweet relief from the stink and humidity of swamp-hamlets whose stubborn folk thrived in the marshy gloom. He drew a deep breath, savoring the salty tang, but could not quite chase away the irritation that simmered beneath his calm facade.

"Commander," came the hesitant voice of one of his lieutenants, a soldier named Greff, still green as meadow grass though a brother of the guard for over ten years. One of the last older recruits who were appointed to the guard for their noble status and whose blood ran through their veins rather than their merit. The soldier was nearly thirty now and would you know it, Link's father realized the man has never so much as stained his blade. It nearly brought a strange smile to his lips. Truth be told, only a small handful had seen actual combat other than the commander and his fellow old veterans. The last real war anyone witnessed was during his time. Peace has reigned since and with that, any real experience along with it.

The man spoke up. "All seems…quiet below, Sir. Perhaps the reports were mistaken?"

Tye didn't spare the man a glance. "Mistaken?" he growled, his voice rasping with incredulity. "We marched a full battalion across two days' worth of swamp and misery, doubled by mishaps and delays. Half our supply carts mired in muck. All because of some damned 'mistaken' correspondence? There shan't be any mistakes."

Greff wisely fell silent, sensing the peril in pushing further.

Tye sighed roughly, scowling down at Salty Point again. It was unsettling, how tranquil it appeared. Not a single burning roof, nor even a frightened villager fleeing the supposed pirate menace. Just fisherfolk going about their humble business, mending nets and proudly hauling their morning catch onto weather-worn docks. He even spied old men lazily telling exaggerated stories from their porches and maidens dotting the streets running errands or running their stands and shops.

He tugged absently at the ends of his graying mustache, brow furrowing deeply. No, something felt deeply wrong. Pirates had attacked, the High Chancellor's dispatch had claimed urgently—Danarus Draene himself had stamped the message. Tye trusted the Chancellor little, and liked him even less, yet the order had borne the king's seal. He'd had no choice but to obey, leaving the capital practically defenseless, guarded only by those arrogant, preening Draene retainers.

The realization sent an unpleasant shiver crawling down his spine, though he tried shaking it off. "Send word to—"

"Commander!" called a guardsman from below, interrupting Tye's brooding. "The lord approaches! We found him!"

Tye lifted his chin to spot the man ascending the bluff—a rotund figure trudging vigorously uphill, breathing heavily with exertion.

"About bloody time. Let me have a word with him," Tye relented, eager to make his report. As he neared, the man's features resolved into clear detail: a ruddy-faced nobleman with ocean-blue eyes glittering merrily beneath a thick, walrus-like mustache the color of wet sand. His hair was similarly hued, tangled by salt and wind, and a spray of crimson freckles speckled his cheeks. Despite his girth, powerful arms strained against the fabric of his tunic, a testament to a lifetime spent wrestling nets and hauling prize catches from the sea.

"Lord Marinus," Greff whispered quickly, filling Tye in. "A minor lord, but well-liked. His family has governed Salty Point for generations."

"Marinus?" Link's father questioned aloud. "Didn't the parchment name Petty-Lord Fendall? Where is he?"

The lieutenant's shoulders lifted in a bewildered shrug.

"Never mind that now, here he comes. I will deal with him I suppose."

The lord reached them at last, panting lightly, his cheeks flushed from the climb. "Commander Tye, is it?" he boomed jovially, extending a meaty hand in greeting. "Welcome to Salty Point! Glad to see you made it—though a mite slower than most, I must say! Not sure why the Royal Guard would trouble to come all this way, but here you are and here I am at your service."

Tye grimaced inwardly at the jab, forcing himself to accept the handshake firmly. "Your roads leave much to be desired, Lord Marinus. The marshes swallowed our pace."

Marinus chuckled heartily, clearly amused. "Roads? No wonder you've lagged behind! Roads are for milkmaids and plowmen. If you'd asked me, I'd have shown you the fisherman's path—runs just beyond the bogwood. Dry as bone in high summer, though I suppose for city men it might still feel a bit damp!"

The lord's booming laughter echoed across the bluff, irritating Tye. The Commander clenched his jaw but relented, biting back a retort.

"A fisherman's path," Tye said stiffly. "We marched nearly eight hundred armored men. Such trails aren't exactly marked clearly on any map. The horses couldn't make Keaton or Cuccos out of any of it either."

"Ah, maps are just as useless as horses here, Commander!" Marinus waved a thick-fingered hand dismissively. "A man's got to feel the land, hear the whispers of the marsh. Trust a marshlander—they'll never steer you wrong. Just like a good sturdy ship!"

Tye regarded him coolly, impatience simmering beneath a veneer of tolerance. "Perhaps next time, Lord Marinus," he said dryly. "Though pray to the Goddess there won't be one."

Marinus laughed heartily again, missing—or ignoring—Tye's irritation completely. He slapped his broad belly proudly. "Indeed! But if ever again you're in need, Commander, just follow the scent of smoked silverfin. Best fish you'll ever taste, I promise!"

The lord then blinked with the revelation. "Say, did you know folks come from leagues around just for our Salty Point silverfin? You've never tasted anything like it! Fresh from the Wandering Sea, silver as moonlight, and feistier than a sweet zora bride on her wedding night!" the man said with a full-belly laugh.

"And how would you know that?" Tye groaned, growing impatient by the man's delay and japes.

"Well, for instance," the man continued without skipping a beat. "A man once trekked all the way from Akkala just for a bite—clear across the kingdom—took one taste and declared he'd gladly drown here, so long as he was buried with one of our fish in his mouth! And that's the goddess honest truth I tell ya!"

The man laughed again, loud and rumbling. Greff grinned uncertainly, but Tye merely cleared his throat, his patience finally at its limit.

"I am sure your catches are remarkable," Tye interjected dryly, cutting Marinus's tale short. "But I haven't come here to buffet on fish or embark on a pleasure barge. We were summoned on dire tidings, my lord—pirates reportedly attacking your port and Cucco Cross. Yet I see nothing of the sort nor when we made our way through the Cross. Explain yourself. What is the scale of this incursion?"

Lord Marinus's laughter faded abruptly, his walrus mustache twitching as though slightly offended. "Pirates, eh? Ah yes. 'Incursion.' A bold word for a handful of salt-sick raiders. Came ashore shouting and waving blades, true enough—but mostly falling over themselves. Pitiful really. My lads at the watchtower and holdfast there yonder drove them off without breaking a sweat. Sent them swimming for their ships with their breeches round their ankles." He gave a smug smile, adjusting his belt proudly. "Hardly worth writing home about, Commander."

Tye's gut tightened, anger simmering beneath his carefully controlled expression. "You drove them off," he repeated, voice dangerously low. "Days ago? And what of Petty-Lord Fendall?"

"Indeed, " Marinus nodded cheerily. "No need troubling the capital over something so minor, I say! And as for old man Lord Fendall, he's been resting at sea for some ten years now, Seven Maidens bless and watch him." The plump Lord made a gesture as if to beg solemnity to the heavens. He then returned his attention to the commander. "Seems whoever sent word to you good folks at the capital was a bit…excitable?"

"Excitable," Tye echoed, bitterness thickening his tone. Behind him, Greff shifted uneasily. Tye's gaze swept once more across the placid village, calm waters glittering mockingly beneath the midday sun. "And what of the neighboring hamlets to the south?"

Lord Marinus stroked his walrus mustache thoughtfully, ocean-blue eyes sparkling beneath wind-tangled, sand-colored hair. "Well, Commander, no promises," he said with an easy shrug, scratching absently at the ruddy freckles that peppered his cheeks, "but I rather doubt any pirate crew would be bold—or foolish—enough to slip past our watch unnoticed." He gestured grandly toward a distant wooden tower that stood like a thin spear against the horizon. "See yonder? Any trouble brews, and we set the alarm. Those beacons of ours catch flame faster than a pirate's sails catch wind. Like candles they run down along the coast."

He guffawed, shoulders shaking merrily, pleased with his own wit. " And if, by some miracle, any rogues slip past our keen eyes, rest assured, our ships at anchor shall introduce them personally to the Zora old gods beneath the waves—long before they're close enough to steal so much as a goat."

Tye followed the lord's thick finger pointing at the small wooden watchtower crowned by a mound of dry straw and timber, feeling a cold suspicion slither deeper through his veins. Beacon or no beacon, something was undeniably wrong. Quiet shores and smiling fisherfolk didn't align with panicked reports delivered straight to the Chancellor's hand.

It was then Tye realized something was most assuredly amiss, as sure as sunset. Who stood to gain from sending the entire Royal Guard chasing ghost stories to a remote coastal backwater? His pulse quickened, dread pooling heavily in his chest. Four days away—four days from the capital. Four days from his Majesty and the Princess he swore to guard with his life—not to mention, his wife and Link. From whatever dark design was unfolding even now, with only the capital watch and House Draene's retinue left behind only to defend.

Yet, here stood Marinus, chuckling jovially, proud chest puffed and mustache bristling, completely untroubled. Tye's lip curled bitterly. He knew little of pirates, but deception he recognized well enough or at least the workings of one. And somewhere in this placid port lay a truth yet unspoken, lurking beneath depths calmer than they ought to be.

"Then let us hope your men see clearly, my lord," Tye murmured darkly, glancing toward Greff with barely contained irritation. "For our battalion has endured enough of swamps and empty warnings. My men long to return to stone roads and honest ground."

"Ah, honest ground?" Marinus chuckled, clapping Tye's shoulder companionably, oblivious to the commander's simmering anger. "There's naught more honest than the waves of the sea! It'll tell you plainly where not to tread—often with a good dunking too! Ha!"

Tye tightened his jaw, suppressing a retort, knowing this fisherman-lord's boasting was the least of his worries. His eyes narrowed as he studied Salty Point one last time, certain that no hidden dangers lurked beneath its calm facade. This whole campaign was a waste, but why? And Goddess help him, he feared they'd left Hyrule's heart unguarded for nothing more than a fisherman's tale.

"Commander?" Marinus prodded uncertainly. "Something wrong?"

Tye straightened abruptly, jaw clenched tight. "We need fresh horses and supplies for the journey, Lord Marinus," he ordered sharply. "And you're coming with us."

"Yes, most assuredly, fresh horses and supplies," The petty lord nodded and repeated absentmindedly before the realization washed over him like a wave. "And I'm coming—" the man nearly choked, "I'm coming with you!?"

Tye gave a nod to one of his men to prepare. "Yes, we're going to need you to lead the way with that secret route you're so fond of. We leave immediately."

"Leave? But Commander, you've just arrived, and what of the town? I can't possibly just up and leave, who's going to govern the people—"

Tye silenced him with a glare like steel. "—Pray, my lord, that silverfin of yours travels well. You're going to need it to keep you comfort or your belly full. Because by the Goddesses, we'll not waste another hour on marsh or sea if I say so unless it means we get to our destination faster than our feet can carry us."

He spun on his heel, boots grinding into salty sand, dread hastening his steps down the bluff. He could only hope they weren't already too late.

Authors Note: I know, a short chapter. I apologize for that and being tardy. But don't fret, the next one will be coming very soon because I am almost done with it. So just a few days. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to get these out but I've been so busy, with not only my work but also trying to get the audiobook version up and running on youtube by releasing more episodes. I'm a one man band as they say. Luckily, I got sick this week and it gave me the time I needed to get to writing. I hope the fever didn't make me write too wildly. That being said, I also had to revise my outline and change events. I'm looking to wrap up this arc so we can return to the main story sooner rather than later. I hope you enjoy and keep a close eye out. The next one will drop shortly. Much sooner than the gap between this and the last one.

Chapter Text

Why we failed pt. 22

Nightfall Approaches

"Stand aside, boy!" The bark of a guardsman rang out, sharp and commanding, as a heavy hand shoved Jun to the side of the road. His boots slipped in the wet mud, sending him sprawling, his sack tumbling to the ground as soldiers tramped by without so much a second glance.

"Hey! I was just walking here!" Jun shouted, his voice trembling between indignation and fear as he scrambled to gather the spilled contents of his bag. His fingers closed around the smooth wood of a mask, one of many he carried, and a jolt of panic ran through him. He shoved them back into the sack hastily, glancing up just in time to see the line of soldiers stretching endlessly down the road. The clang of armor and the rhythmic stomp of boots on stone filled the air, a martial symphony that struck dread into his heart.

Something was wrong. Royal guards didn't move like this unless it was serious.

"What's happening?" he called out, his voice wavering as he stood, brushing mud off his knees.

"You?" A voice cut through the din—a voice he recognized. He froze, his heart leaping into his throat as he turned to see Commander Tye, Link's father, mounted atop his armored steed, face flushed with exertion as he directed the ranks forward.

The commander lifted his visor and wiped a hand across his brow, narrowing his eyes at the boy. "I know you. I've seen you before."

Jun stiffened, his mind racing. He gripped the strap of his sack tightly, feeling the edges of the masks pressing against his side. He forced himself to stand straight, meeting the older man's gaze with as much defiance as he could muster. "So what if you have?"

Tye tilted his head, studying him for a moment, but the urgency of the march left no time for questions. "Just stay clear and keep out of trouble, you hear me?" His voice carried an edge of warning.

Jun didn't reply, holding his ground as the commander turned away and barked at his men to press forward. "Move out!"

The road was alive with the clamor of war preparation. Soldiers, armored and armed, moved like a living tide, their faces set with determination. The banners of Hyrule fluttered in the breeze, a proud symbol of strength—and yet, to Jun, it was a hollow display. He knew the truth behind this movement, the terrible plan unfolding like a web around the castle. And as the soldiers marched away, the weight of his secret pressed harder against his chest.

"What's happening?" he asked again, this time catching the arm of a passing guardsman. "Where is everyone going?"

The soldier gave him a quick glance before pulling free. "Haven't you heard? Pirates! Raiding all along the Salty Shore. But don't you fret lad, we'll smash them to pieces. If we're lucky we'll be back when the tournament ends in time to reap the spoils. Now clear the road, before you get hurt!"

Jun watched them go, his chest tightening with each step they took. The city's defenders were leaving—every one of them. His mind raced as he stepped back from the crowded road, ducking into the shadows of an alley. His breathing came quick and shallow as the realization hit him like a hammer to the gut.

Then it must be tonight!

The words echoed in his mind like a death knell. Not two days from now, as he had been told. Not with time to plan, to stall, to warn—tonight. The castle would be vulnerable, just as they had plotted. He clutched his sack tighter, the memory of a whisper resurfacing with chilling clarity. Master Sasuke's words:'Not to worry. I have it under the best authority that by the morrow's twilight veil the Sanctum stairwell will be practically defenseless.'

The words seem to echo in his mind in an endless loop. The weight of them, and what they truly meant.

He leaned against the cool stone wall, his legs threatening to give out. This was the moment he had waited for, the culmination of years of bitterness and betrayal. But things had changed. In the short time since he'd arrived, he had found something he never expected: friends. Link, who treated him like an equal. Zelda, who smiled at him with kindness, who trusted him. The thought of her face, bright with hope, sent a pang of guilt through his chest.

"Jun," a voice hissed from the shadows, slick and serpentine. He whipped around, his heart skipping a beat as a cloaked figure stepped forward, the folds of the hood obscuring their face. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

Jun swallowed hard, his fists clenching at his sides. "Of course not!" he snapped, his voice breaking slightly. He straightened, forcing himself to meet the figure's gaze—or where he thought their gaze might be. "I've waited for this moment my entire life. My family is all I have."

"Good." The figure's voice was a low growl, their satisfaction palpable. "It better stay that way."

Another figure emerged from the darkness, their presence just as ominous. "You owe us something," they said, their tone sharp and commanding.

Jun's hand shook as he reached into his sack, pulling out the masks. He thrust them toward the figures, his grip tightening as if he might change his mind. "Here," he said through gritted teeth. "Take them and leave me alone. I'll be where I need to be."

The first figure took the masks, their gloved hand brushing against his. "See that you are," they said. "The Sensei doesn't take kindly to failure."

Jun didn't reply. He turned and ran, the weight of their gaze heavy on his back. The masks were gone, but the burden they represented was still with him, dragging him down like chains. He darted through the winding alleys, his mind a storm of conflict. The plan was in motion. There was no stopping it now. But as he ran, one thought consumed him:

What will I do when the moment comes?

"Take your marks!" Athelon's voice roared across the clearing, cutting through the twilight horizon like a knife's edge. The old veteran stood behind them, shoulders squared, face illuminated by the line of torches glowing. The sun began its descent into the west, now obstructed by the stands, marking the beginning of their fate.

Link stood among the other pledges, their silhouettes stark against the torchlit meadow's edge. The tall grass whispered against his greaves, each blade damp with a foretelling of evening dew. He could smell the tension in the air, bitter and taut, as if the land itself held its breath. Ahead rose the forest line, a ragged sentinel of ancient oaks and tangled vines that wove so thick and high they devoured the coming sunset overhead. The murmurs from the stands behind him—cheers, hushed wagers, nervous laughter—felt distant now, muffled by the pounding of his own heart. He steadied his grip on his hilt and took his mark, positioning himself as instructed, trying to ignore the flicker of doubt gnawing at the back of his mind. This is it! There's no turning back now!

As Link surveyed the line of his fellow cadets to his left and right—some ten paces apart spread out each of them—he glimpsed their nervous nods and their silent gulps. None of them truly understood what lay beyond that thicket of shadow and silence. Even flames of torches guarding the entrance seemed to balk and lick away in fear from what lies beyond. Link's fist clenched tighter over his blade. He couldn't deny the thrill of fright woven into the moment, a sensation that both chilled and awakened him. His mind soon drifted to all what was at stake and then, he thought of her, of the expectations she carried, and he refused to let this forest, and its terrors break him.

Athelon's grin hardened into something graver, his one good eye scanning them all even as his dead one swirled pale and ominously. "Before you lies your first task," he said, voice dropping low, "and with it, either the dawn of your glory or the dusk of your dreams." He paused, letting that promise settle, the crackle of torches spitting orange sparks into the sunset air. The crowds behind also listened as he gave his farewell.

"Ahead of you now lurks the very shadows of thought," he continued, addressing them all but seeming to stare straight at Link's soul. "More frightening than any monster you've heard sung in tavern ballads, or murmured in old fables, that I assure you." The old man cleared his throat. "This trial is not for the faint of heart. For beyond those trees awaits you is a dance with death itself." The air shivered at his words, and Link's throat went dry.

"So, dance it well, or forever remain lost in its terrible song," Athelon smirked before continuing. Link swallowed hard, tasting a faint tang of metal on his tongue, something old and ominous in the damp breeze.

"Alas, I say this, do not tarry in the mist," Athelon warned, voice stern yet oddly paternal. "Fight against all temptations to waver off the path and guard against any siren song of apparitions genuine or fantasy alike that may ensnare you. Be wary of creeping crawling critters of the underbrush and night-stalking phantoms. Dangers all of them. For inside that grey void, if you falter, forces ancient as time will seize upon your doubts and lure you to your demise. Your safety is not guaranteed in the shadows beyond."

Some pledges stiffened at the stark revelation and Athelon continued his warning. "So to those who find themselves tarrying or unwilling to venture further, you will find that there is only but one retreat—just one."

He raised a calloused finger skyward. "If fright takes you or if reason fails, strike a flint against a pitch-soaked arrow and send your firebolt to the heavens. My Rito friend here says scouts will be patrolling the skies above the tree line, ready to pluck you from the jaws of fate." Athelon assured, pointing over to Revali who stood near him, looking disinterested like a disgruntled cleanup crew.

"But know this: if you wait too long, if you linger carelessly and let the maddening of your mind twist beyond remembrance, no escape can save you," he warned, straightning up and resting his burly hands on his waist. "Seek the sacred prize if you must," he continued. "That ancient torch of valor, but lest you succumb to slightest sign of hesitation you must choose swiftly what you'll do next, or reason will slip through your fingers like smoke."

Athelon's gaze lingered on each of them, and Link could almost feel that iron-will pressing him forward. He inhaled, bracing himself, the scent of moss and timeless earth filling his lungs. Past that wall of trees lay the mysterious beyond, and he would face it—no matter what nightmares stirred in those silent shadows.

"And lastly, to those who reach the end of the trial unscathed and with their remaining wits about them, yet only clenching half a victory without the prize, despair not. Another opportunity still awaits thee." Athelon then searched them all a final time, sucked in a breath and decreed again.

"To the man who claims that sacred flame of ancient's past, your journey does not end there. Only a beginning. It merely awards you just a slight advantage in the next round. There remains two more trials. Two more chances for any of you to take the lead. An opportunity for any one of you to prove your mettle and redeem your worth in the sights of Goddesses and men. For the Ancient Cistern and the Colosseum of fate still await you all." His words were measured, striking a balance between hope and forewarning.

The old guard spun sharply on his heel, his voice rising as he addressed not only the cadets but the cheering crowd beyond. " If any among you desire to abandon this quest with a bit of your honor in tact, now is the time to do so. Because once you embark on this journey, I fear you may find it hard to retreat. Impossible by all likes. For once the traps of the mind are sprung, there is little chance breaking free. Adventure forth at your own peril."

"Now, let the Trials of the Flame, begin!" the old veteran declared, to the roaring approval of the stands. Horns blared their songs of encouragement again. The moment had become real. It was then a few lads' knees buckled in fear, their armor rattling as they broke ranks, scattering back to the safety of the sidelines, abandoning all hopes of being Guardsman.

"Hmph! Cowards!" Cadet Regoso spat, his voice carrying just enough volume to ensure the deserters could still hear him as they fled. "Run along, flee then! Makes it easier for the rest of us. Not that it matters. That flame is as good as mine. It will be me that takes the advantage in the next round."

Turning sharply, his gaze landed on Link with the precision of a drawn blade. "Tell me, farmer, how do you plan to fare without dear old Pa around to hold your hand? Or are you just here to make up the numbers?" Regoso sneered, his tone dripping with mockery, the deliberate pause stretching his insult like salt rubbed into an open wound. "I guess there has to be some of us unlucky ones that fall for the crowd to cheer, it might as well be your kind, am I right?"

Link's jaw tightened, but he kept his composure. A flicker of irritation passed across his features, but he let the words slide off him like water from a shield.

"Just ignore him," Orin muttered under his breath, his voice a steadying anchor beside him. "He's a git."

All the while Link had another thought cross his mind; how would the spectators witness their deeds beyond the darkness of the woods? How could anyone see what they were doing? How they were fairing or what acts of valor they were displaying?

But Regoso wasn't done, clearly emboldened by his own laughter and the stifled chuckles of his entourage. He gestured grandly toward the treeline, tearing Link from his musings.

"But, who knows? Perhaps, I'm speaking too soon, eh?" Regoso continued. "Perchance, you'll surprise us all with some new trick taught by your upstart father. I suppose even peasants deserve their champions too, am I right?"

His glare then locked onto Link like a hawk circling its prey, the corners of his mouth curling into a crooked grin. "Here's an idea—when I win, and if by some miracle you make it out alive, I'll even let you fetch that mighty prize they promised for me. Carry it back to the Princess when she crowns me champion for all to see. Who knows? Maybe you'll even get a glimpse of her up close when she gives me that victory kiss too. Imagine that, peasant—a front-row view of what the likes of you will never have."

Link exhaled slowly, a deliberate effort to steady the simmering frustration building within. His hand briefly tightened around the hilt of his sword, but his gaze remained steady, unflinching. Regoso's taunts were nothing more than words in the wind. The flame was still far from his grasp, and Link intended to make sure it stayed that way. Even if he didn't win by night's end, so long as Regoso didn't either is all that mattered.

Fearing he wouldn't get any rise out of him, Regoso leaned in as he marched his way past him, his voice dropping to a mockingly sympathetic whisper as he marched by. "Good luck in there, farm boy. You'll need it."

Link didn't rise to the bait. He stood rooted to his spot, watching as Regoso stormed headlong into the dark embrace of the woods, his arrogant boasts fading into the cacophony of cheering crowds. One by one, other pledges followed, their resolve stiffened by the roaring spectators. Soon, the clearing emptied of all but him and his closest friends, Sven to his left and Orin to his right.

He took a moment to drink it all in—the fading sunlight, the murmurs of the trees, the distant echo of celebration behind him. The weight of what lay ahead pressed on his chest, but he steadied himself with a deep, cold breath. The chill of the coming dusk kissed his skin, and he exhaled slowly, his breath fogging the air like a fleeting ghost.

"Forget him," Link said, speaking forward. Turning to Sven and Orin, he met each of their gazes, his own brimming with unspoken resolve. A faint smile flickered at the corner of his lips before his expression hardened. "Remember our training," he said quietly, his voice firm but laced with a brotherly warmth. "You'll make it out of this. I just know it."

With that, he gripped one of the remaining torches standing before him, the flame licking hungrily at the air as he freed it from its post. Its warmth brushed his face, a fleeting reassurance against the cold expanse of the forest ahead. It's now or never, he thought, the beat of his heart matching the rhythm of his steps as he crossed the threshold into the woods. And now it was.

"Don't forget to smile, dear Princess," Arasmus murmured, his voice smooth and honeyed as he leaned in, his presence a calculated intrusion into her space. Zelda caught the faint spice of his aroma—the kind of princely cologne that lingered like an unspoken boast. Today must have been important to him indeed, she mused, if he had gone so far as to lather himself in the finest fragrances rupees could buy. A scent of rain-soaked pine and smoldering amber, with just a whisper of dark, earthy musk. The kind of fragrance that evoked desires to be untamed; like a forest after a summer storm, raw and arresting, or a dare whispered against her better judgment. If it had belonged to anyone else, she might have found it alluring, attractive even. But alas, it was his, and the thought soured before it could settle.

She didn't doubt the effort was as much for show as it was for her benefit, a well-rehearsed performance of devotion meant to turn heads and win approval. The scent clung to the high collar of his impeccably tailored doublet; an extravagant deep black outfit with intricate gold embroidery that stitched crimson accents. They shimmered with a subtle, refined brilliance from the orange glow of the lanterns.

Yet, what struck her most was the contrast between him and his father, Lord Danarus, who sat next to the King like a sentinel of sober worry. When he lifted a morsel of bread up to his lips, she spied the glint of burnished steel and polished leather chainmail beneath his finely woven tunic and tabard, emblazoned with their house sigil—A Burning Serpent coiled protectively around a gleaming, triangular stone relic. The ensemble, though of impeccable tailoring, spoke of readiness, a calculated practicality that hinted at far more than ceremony. Not your typical courtly attire for one awaiting a feast to be sure.

Arasmus, however, seemed as though he were preparing for an elegant moonlit dance rather than a knightly showing of strength. The juxtaposition gnawed at her curiosity, though she had little time to ponder over it. Arasmus leaned closer, his voice soft as silk, intent on pulling her thoughts back to him and away from the whispers of unease stirring at the edges of her mind.

"Um, Princess?" he asked again, tearing her from her thoughts. His tone was calm, almost caring, yet laced with that familiar note of calculated charm. Zelda blinked and offered him a measured and cordial smile, though inwardly she longed to roll her eyes. Let him think he was charming her.

On her other side, Purah offered a quiet, encouraging nudge beneath the table, just enough to remind Zelda she wasn't alone in this crowded gallery. The late afternoon sun stretched across the royal balcony, bathing its tiers of carved wood and polished accents in a mellow light that promised twilight soon to come. Below, the festival grounds stirred with renewed cheer as the people settled in to watch the Trials proceed.

Zelda tried to comply, curving her lips into a permanently fixed polite smile to anyone who would chance a glance her way, even as her heart wrestled with worries that refused to relent. She caught her father's eye—King Rhoam, seated a short distance away, deep in some light, courtly conversation with nobles and dignitaries. He seemed relaxed, or at least eager to appear so, as if determined to enjoy the evening's revelries despite the unsettling eddies of politics that had swirled earlier. Her friends lounged comfortably, goblets raised, laughter on their lips.

Musicians plucked at strings, sending lilting melodies drifting upward. The aroma of bite-sized spiced meat and honeyed fruit lingered on the breeze, pleasant and enticing, yet Zelda's stomach fluttered uneasily. She yearned to lose herself in this tapestry of voices, aromas, and gentle laughter, to savor the moment as any girl her age might. But how could she truly enjoy it, knowing that Helmsworth—even now—was stepping into that mysterious forest alone, far below the watchful crowd?

Zelda's gaze flicked once more toward the darkened treeline, where each cadet vanished into the damp hush of the Forest of Dark Whispers. Beneath her composed exterior, her heart tightened at the thought of Helmsworth—quiet, determined Helmsworth—stepping into those looming shadows. For a breath, she imagined the cadence of his pulse, the steadiness of his grip on his weapon, the flicker of doubt that might gnaw at him the way her own fears did now.

Purah caught her eye, a sympathetic smile in place, and Zelda returned a grateful tilt of her head, though her stomach churned with worry. Sitting between Arasmus's poised form and Purah's reassuring presence left her torn between obligations to courtly appearances and the private anxiety curling in her chest.

The princess was eager to dispel any interrogations into her feelings. "So, how are we supposed to witness the Trials if the competitors simply… vanish into that woodland?" Zelda mused aloud, interrupting the light chatter of the others. Her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of unease. She hoped someone—anyone—would offer an answer that might soothe the coil of anxiety tightening in her chest.

Purah perked up, a gleam of mischief flashing behind her spectacles. The corners of her mouth twitched as though she'd been waiting all day for precisely this moment. "Ah-ha, dear Princess," she began, swirling the contents of her goblet with theatrical flair, "And—that, as they say, is the trick."

Zelda arched a brow, her curiosity piqued, but before she could reply, her uncle Arcturus jumped in, his tone laced with playful intrigue. "A riddle to solve? Now this I must hear, I do love riddles and enigmas," he said, voice carrying that familiar unmistakable cadence of High Hylian, a fading accent which royalty and few high nobility spoke with. Its grace held an air of disappearing elegance of an era of majesty long forgotten. Zelda also could be heard with glimpses of it in her own speech, she knew. Across the table, even the King paused mid-conversation with a cluster of lords, turning slightly at the sound of Purah's voice.

Zelda eagerly spoke up on their behalf, "So, Purah, what is this grand and elusive secret you wish to share with us?"

"More like a trick, you mean," Arasmus groaned under his breath to only where Zelda heard.

Missing his snipe, Zelda's uncle leaned forward, folding his arms in exaggerated patience while fighting back the smile. "I've been pondering the very same thing, Sweet Niece. Everything is so dreadfully under wraps here! I can't get a straight answer out of anyone. Not from the servants or even the highborn running this show. Either they're clueless, or they enjoy watching me squirm. I was beginning to doubt we'd ever find out how to get this show to begin."

"All you had to do was ask me, my Prince," Purah began with relish, her voice lilting as she gestured grandly, "We sheikah always have answers to those who ask."

"Indeed, I should've. Somebody must be punished at once for leading me astray." The prince joked, not before smiling warmly to wink at his niece. "It seems your friend is ever as clever as you say she is, My Dear. I must say, I believe you are in good hands as you say are." Turning to face the Sheikah scientist. "Carry on, do tell me this secret."

Purah cleared her throat. "You see, it's all thanks to what some folks would call old magic. Of the ancients, of course," she added conspiratorially with a whispered lean, as if telling a hushed secret across the table.

Purah perked up in her seat, a victorious grin spreading across her face—like she had just cracked a long-lost code; a final key to an unsolvable enigma forsaken by time. "But, we know better, of course. It's merely a lasting relic of their brilliance." She sloshed her chalice with dramatic coolness before taking a long, self-assured sip.

"Is that so?" Arasmus interjected, his tone sharp with excited skepticism. He leaned closer, his smirk faint but cutting. "Do enlighten us, Purah. I'm certain we'd all benefit from your vast knowledge of the Ancients and their…How should I say, mysticism. Goddesses know, if you or the princess could bottle their dusty old magic, you'd both drink it like the finest spiced wine, I'd wager."

Purah didn't so much as flinch at his barbed comment. Mysticism, what does he know? She adjusted her spectacles with deliberate grace, her gaze skipping over Arasmus as if he were no more significant than a smudge on her chalice. Her focus landed squarely on Zelda, and she spoke with mock solemnity. "I have two words for you, Princess: Guidance Stone and Ancient Furnace. That's the trick!"

At the mention, a chorus of mild exclamations rose from those at the table—nodding lords and half-curious ladies. Zelda's brow lifted; her lips parting slightly intrigued. She leaned back, silently counting the number of Purah's words on her fingertips, while the table murmured its collective curiosity. Even Danarus gave an approving nod, though not without casting a sidelong glance at the King, who seemed to follow the conversation with only partial interest.

At the far end of the table, Impa shifted nervously, fidgeting with her delicately woven rush and lightly lacquered bamboo kasa atop her head. The sheiakah girl was desperate for the dangling silver pendants called spirit tassels to sit pretty, adjusting them absentmindedly. She shot a pointed look at her sister, silent plea clear: Whatever trouble you're stirring, don't spoil this evening, I beg you.

Purah, however, remained unbothered, and Zelda couldn't help but admire her audacity. Even as the tension between Purah and Arasmus thickened, she found herself leaning further into the conversation, eager for anything that might distract her from the shadows of the forest below.

"Now, with a flick and snap, we can see everything as if we were in the thick of it ourselves. Watch this, Princess!" Purah declared with dramatic flair, revealing a small stone tablet from the depths of her cloak pocket. With a stroke of it's spine and single finger pressed against the face of the object she commanded it to activate. "And…SNAP!"

The device glimmered faintly as she raised it with a flourish, aiming it toward a lone stone podium covered in old moss standing resolute in the center of the grassy field below. Faintly etched in its stonework a somber sigil of the Sheikah tribe—a single tear weeping from its all-seeing eye—the podium exuded an air of mystery, as though it had been plucked straight from the depths of ancient Hyrule's forgotten past. Everyone watched in amazement at what would happen next down below.

Now that she pondered on it, were her eyes playing tricks on her? The princess couldn't believe what she was seeing. Had that stone pilar been there the whole time? How could she have missed such a peculiar device? Had it just appeared? But, from where, under the ground? These sorts of curiosities made her skin flush and alive with excitement. Nervous wings fluttered in her belly but for once were of the good kind.

Zelda leaned forward instinctively, turning her attention from the arena below and back to Purah.

The mechanism sparked immediate recognition in her hands. She'd seen it before, only yesterday, when Purah and Impa had eagerly thrust it into her hands during her dress rehearsal. She remembered the strange weight of it, the faint hum of dormant power vibrating beneath her fingers, and the cryptic symbols etched into its surface. Now, as Purah tapped and fiddled with the device, Zelda's fascination mingled with apprehension, her heart fluttering with nervous anticipation. Could this really show them the trials as if they were there themselves? But how?

A hush fell over the royal table, an electric tension crackling through the air as the gathered nobles leaned in. Even her father, who had been embroiled in conversation only moments ago, now turned his gaze toward Purah's contraption with visible intrigue. The tablet flickered briefly to life, its glow casting faint blue light across Purah's determined features. For an instant, Zelda glimpsed a flash of ancient Sheikah script—beautiful and indecipherable—but the light sputtered out before she could make sense of it. After what seemed like a long-baited moment, nothing happened.

Beside Arasmus, and just beyond the reach of Zelda's ears, the Seneschal delicately dabbed the corners of his mouth with a silk handkerchief, no doubt gifted from dignitaries from the distant strange lands of Hytopia. His movements were slow, calculated, his expression one of mild amusement. "Ah, poor thing," he murmured, gesturing subtly toward Purah. "I was rather rooting for her, you know. Such a shame. If it had worked as I suspected, well… it might have been quite the spectacle. I guess, I'll have no choice but to take it from here—"

Arasmus leaned closer, his voice a low rasp that barely carried beyond their table. "—And where do you think you're going, my friend? Fun or exciting as this all may seem I'm sure. But, I know you neither desire fun or excitement, so what is it you're really heading off to? You can't distract me with hollow excuses of courtly duty like you can the others, Seneschal," he warned in a whisper. His tone was calm, yet laced with steel. "I'm going to need answers about what happened earlier before you sneak off."

The Seneschal's smile didn't waver and nobody else was none the wiser to their quiet discussion. It was a thin, knowing curve that seemed stitched into his face. "Now, now, My Lord. No need for fretting. I've taken full responsibility for this morning's little mishap, as any loyal servant should. Rest assured; I've addressed the matter thoroughly." His words slid out like the silken handkerchief he prized, each one polished to perfection, but with an undercurrent of something darker.

"You'd better have," Arasmus hissed, his knuckles tightening against the edge of the table. "My father expects as such and need I remind you, he isn't as forgiving as I am. He won't be made a fool of, that I can assure you. Nor will I, especially not by some upstart peasant lad. And definitely not from any foreigner like you, no less."

"Your words wound me, my lord. I would never dream of such a dastardly thing. And the boy, does he know how much you revile him so?" Amusement flickered in the liquid gold of his hazel eyes.

"Spare me your courtesies, I know you care not from the boy nor do you share any love for me and my father. But, I care not for your love, only your loyalty when the time comes. Besides there is something that I know you do crave which I—and only I can offer you. The one thing you care about most. Remember that and you'll live many more years to die old and wrinkled in your bed. If your sort wrinkle that is." Arasmus folded his arms, feigning to watch others gathered about the table continue their celebrations of the excitement to come.

"I'm aware, My Lord. And I'm listening. However, do be quick about it for all our sakes, for time is not on our side and is of the essence. I'm sure you're aware."

Arasmus leaned closer to the Seneschal's ear as he continued with tasting refreshments that dotted the table. "The Crimson Cloaks are a relic of a dying age, and my father means to see their embers snuffed out once and for all."

The Seneschal's lips twitched into a sly grin as his hand hovered over the platter of pastries before them. "Your devotion to your family and passion is commendable, My Lord, who knew you had it in you to find the time, I mean with how busy you've been these few days," he said, his tone oily and amused; taking a jab at Arasmus' late night activities since being in the city.

Arasmus' playful tone darkened like a flip of a coin. "How dare you have me followed!" he said in a loud whisper.

The seneschal only relaxed more at his turn of aggression, leaning forward in his seat to survey the delectable treats in front of him. "Easy, now, we are on the same side. I was merely making conversation with a friend."

"Well, if I had wanted friends, I'd find them in the company of others who—"

"—Who are more like you? Noble?" Arasmus knew what he meant by that and he didn't mean status of class. The sly man didn't let him respond and plucked a delicate confection instead—a cherry tart drizzled with golden glaze—and held it aloft, examining it as if it were a priceless gem. "Here, how's this for better conversation then. It's sure to interest you seeing it is we're not friends yet. Mayhaps to garner more of your trust, I hope."

The seneschal swallowed the delight thoughtfully, savoring the sweetness and tartness in every chew. "Let me ease your concerns," he began. "Let's just say that our mutual friend is… feeling rather stretched thin at the moment."

Arasmus' brow lifted, intrigued by the news. "Go on."

"Oh, we did find him trying to escape to be sure. He had nearly gotten away too. And not without a large sack of whatever heirlooms or priceless treasures found aloft in the castle. No doubt to barter and purchase passage across the Wandering Sea to the fair isles of Gamelon, to join the ranks of their many princes. Or, mayhaps, he planned to join a caravan of nomads to journey past the hot, white sands to the Sunrise lands of Corredi. It makes no matter now, rest assured, he was found."

“How?” Arasmus asked.

“My men tell me they caught him at the outer curtain wall of the city, attempting to flee out of an unguarded postern gate to the west.” The senechal took a sip of his goblet playfully. “Again, another gift I offer you, to tell the princess and the King when the time is ripe. To earn more of their favor, if you get my meaning. Catching a thief is always a good deed, you know?”

The seneschal sighed mockingly as if he nearly pitied the fate of the man they captured. "We'll find out the errors of his ways soon enough. A shame too, if only he had left his gems and stolen loot behind, he might have escaped our reach. Amazing, even after all we paid him he still hungered for more. What a wonder it is how even in one's most dire happenstance does one still risk fate for riches," he said, offering a hint to the high lord.

A flash came across Arasmus' mind as he imagined what could only be a barbaric and painful interrogation happening somewhere in the bowels of the castle to the man who failed his mission with the potion.

"You'd better be right," Arasmus growled, his eyes narrowing. "Remember, Seneschal, we are bound in this together. If I fall, you'll be tumbling right behind me."

"Clear as crystal, My Lord, I have no intentions to meet our good friend Sir Borz the Weeper and his axe just yet," the Seneschal replied, his grin widening. "Oh, how he longs to use it in the King's service. It has been many, many a year since the last time. I fear his blade may becoming dull for lack of use. That being said, I like my head on my shoulders just where it is. And—I—I also like sweets." He bit into his tart, savoring it with an exaggerated hum of delight before chasing it with a sip of firewine. With the elegance of a seasoned courtier, he rose, gave a polite bow to his lieges, and excused himself with the air of a man who had urgent, mysterious business to attend.

Arasmus watched him float away, his jaw set tight, before his gaze drifted downward to the crowd below the gallery. Finally, the distraction he'd been hoping for all day caught his gaze. At last, he can loosen his collar for something less—a bore. Not far off sat a young maiden lingering near the lower deck—a soft beauty that seemed out of place amidst the mundane of lesser lords. Her movements were shy, soft and unguarded. Just the way he preferred. Ripe and ready to be plucked, he mused. The corners of his mouth curved into a faint smile, but it was devoid of warmth—a predator's grin as he assessed her like a hawk circling its prey.

Zelda on the other hand he knew was untouchable, at least in her state right now. Her defiance an impenetrable fortress he couldn't breach even with an army, at least, not without consequence. She had made that abundantly clear, though she wore her rejection behind layers of polite smiles and royal decorum. So, he had to find other prey to satisfy his cravings. The fire in his chest cooled to a slow, calculating burn as he adjusted the cuffs of his doublet, already imagining the scene to come. "Slither away if you must," he muttered under his breath as an afterthought to long departed Seneschal. "I know I shall."

The murmuring around him swirled as Purah continued her stubborn tinkering, eliciting laughter and exasperation from the onlookers. Arasmus stood and glanced toward Zelda, who, much to his delight, appeared utterly engrossed in Purah's antics. He leaned down, his voice as smooth as a serpent's glide. "This is all rather premature, don't you think, Princess? Perhaps the artifact isn't ready for the demands of such a grand stage. In the meantime—I've some matters to attend to. I shall return to you before the excitement begins, I assure you."

Without waiting for a reply, he straightened, offered a shallow bow to the table, and strode off with purpose. Zelda absentmindedly nodded, still watching Purah not before realizing he left. She suppressed the urge to give a relieved sigh at his absence so others wouldn't notice.

"Um, Purah—" Zelda began, her voice tinged with caution, but Purah silenced her with a sharp wave of her hand, her eyes narrowing at the uncooperative device.

"Give it a minute, please. You'll see," Purah huffed, her usual confidence now edged with irritation. "Any second now…"

The gathered spectators murmured amongst themselves, their growing impatience pressing against Purah's nerves like an unrelenting gnat buzzing in her ear. Even the King, his arms crossed and goblet forgotten, watched with uncharacteristic interest. Zelda felt a pang of secondhand embarrassment as Purah began shaking the tablet, muttering in random exasperated curses under her breath.

"Oh, for Hylia's sake, c'mon! You worked earlier!" Purah grumbled, smacking the device firmly with the flat of her hand as though a mother would swat the behind of a wayward child. Zelda bit back a laugh, her lips twitching despite herself.

And then Purah shut her eyes in frustration. Nothing was happening. Silence befell the table just as she opened them back up and spoke. "I think I need to, uh, excuse me!" The young scientist said, scooting out from her chair with a fervent bow toward all the guests. "I swear Robbie, I'm going to kill you. If that furnace isn't lit so help me—" she said, last heard by Zelda mumbling to herself as she bolted down the stairs leading away from the royal gallery and down to the denizens of spectators below.

Left on that note of suspense and after taking a nibble of food, Zelda decided to wipe her lips with a doily as a proper young lady should, excusing Purah on her behalf to the others. "I'm sure what she has planned will come to fruition soon enough, and whatever it is, will be well worth the wait. She never disappoints, that Purah."

Polite nods circled the table, though Zelda noticed the subtle shifts in demeanor among her company. Some guests leaned back with an air of skepticism, their silence speaking louder than any words, while others resumed their refreshments and casual banter, their attention drifting back to the unfolding trial.

The hum of light conversation returned, mingling with the soft clink of silver against trencher bread and the faint roar of cheers from the crowd below; eager to begin. The world seemed momentarily at ease—until Zelda's shoulders tensed. Her reprieve was cut short, for Arasmus had returned, much sooner than she had hoped. His presence swept over the table like a shadow, his earlier confidence now dimmed by a sour expression. He wore the kind of petulant frown a spoiled child might don when denied a second slice of dessert, and though his attempts to mask it were half-hearted at best, the tension in his jaw betrayed him.

Hmm, I wonder who managed to ruffle his cucco's feathers? Zelda mused, the faintest flicker of satisfaction daring to tug at the corners of her lips at his misfortune before she dismissed the thought. Whatever grievance plagued him, she decided, it was not worth the effort to ponder. She would've gladly returned her attention to her company or even the empty theatrics of Purah's faltering device, though she already left. But, before long, the atmosphere shifted. Something—or someone—demanded her attention once again.

A solitary remaining Guardsmen who stood watch approached her table, cutting through the hum of courtly chatter. He bowed low as he flung his crimson cloak behind his shoulder, voice pitched so only her and those beside her could overhear. "Your Highness," he said, deference softening each word, "Theres a few visitors requesting entrance to the gallery. They say they are acquainted with you and gave me this as proof." His gaze flicked over the gathered nobles, then returned to Zelda as he lifted from his care an exquisite set of jewelry.

From his gloved hands, he offered an object that caught the lantern light, its brilliance casting faint prisms across the polished table. Zelda's breath hitched as her gaze fell upon the necklace—a masterpiece of craftsmanship she knew intimately. The pendant sparkled with fire, ice and green stars fused into perfect harmony. Made by triangular engravings seated with three resplendent gems: a sapphire for wisdom, an emerald for courage, and a ruby for power—Or, so she had been told by the scholars.

Each jewel gleamed with a light that seemed to breathe, the intricate goldwork encasing them bearing the unmistakable crest of her royal house. The locket's surface felt almost alive, as though it carried the weight of both memory and legacy, and for a fleeting moment, the world around her dimmed into insignificance.

"Should I bring them in at your pleasure?" The guard's tone was polite, but there was a hint of expectancy there, as though he knew she might find this moment a welcome respite. She smiled back gleefully, happy that they kept their word and came. With a nod and a quiet response, she replied. "Yes, most certainly. I have been expecting them."

Arasmus cut her off. "And who may I ask are these guests that I am just being informed about? After all, things are a little precarious as right now. There still is an assailant on the loose that we have yet to apprehend, my dear, Sundelion."

Zelda turned to him, taking more satisfaction in the dissatisfaction growing more apparent on his brow with just the mere mention of bringing more guests she would rather spend the day with. "Oh, but, I thought you said you had things handled? And besides, a man of your talents as I've heard so much about, surely, you can keep me safe here, right?" She teased sweetly, all the while rubbing salt into his fragile ego like a burned wound.

"I mean, of course," Arasmus blundered and instead shook it off. "I was just asking as a precaution is all. Your security is my top priority, and I need to know who you surround yourself with, that's all."

"Oh, don't fret, My Lord, it's just a few more friends. One of whom is that squire from before. You remember him, right? The boy you called, what was it again? A ruffian?" She continued with that air of sass to which only he noticed. Others who listened only managed intrigue by the surprise in guests.

Arasmus groaned to himself and slunk back in his seat. "How can I forget."

Stepping forward, Link felt the world behind him shrink into something distant and unreal. Just beyond the torchlit clearing, a legion of trees stood sentinel in silent judgment —an ancient maze of twisted trunks and clinging vines that had worn a hundred names through the ages. Depending on who you asked it had several names. Some called it the Forsaken Forest, where poor souls stuck between this world and the next lose all memory of their former selves, hence the name. Others simply recalled it as a Lost Woods of sorts; and to the most superstitious, it was the Forest of Dark Whispers. Regardless of its title, all seemed to agree that it was no place for mortal eyes to wander. For misfortune lurked beneath its leafy crown, patiently awaiting any trespasser who dared into its shadowed realm.

As Link crossed the threshold of pale mist which guarded the entrance, an immediate hush fell around him. The world and all its celebrations behind him instantly muffled to a barely decipherable hum as if they drowned underwater. Several more steps and they silenced forever. What sort of magic, no, sorcery was this? He thought precariously.

The ruckus earlier seemed now more like a distant memory as if they were never there at all. The damp, untouched earth gave way beneath his boots, releasing a strong scent of age-old rot and loam that burned his nostrils. Each step stirred sodden underbrush that clung to his armor and cheeks, and above him, a canopy of leaves so dense it swallowed the setting sun, leaving only the weakening torch's gleam in his grasp—a fragile reminder of the life he left behind. And just when he found his courage in its light, a whisper of wind blew and dimmed his torch to silence, leaving only a whisp of grey smoke.

The canopy of branches choked out whatever sunlight remained. And now, alone in the dark, Link tossed the useless stick to the wayside in frustration as his breath caught in his throat, the air tasting bitter and faintly metallic, as if charged with secrets too old to name. He could sense the forest's silent scrutiny and hear the soft crack of distant branches. Whether they were disturbed by innocent critters of the woods or unnamed foes of the looming night that was coming, he could not tell. Worry would pulse in his ears as they instinctively twitched to any sound or quiet hiss of wind threading through narrow gaps in the foliage.

In the disquiet gloom, something like a hushed murmur—uneasy energy rather than a true voice—raised the hairs at his nape. As he inhaled slowly, a mingled stench of floral decay and sweet perfume teased his senses, as though even the blossoms here struggled beneath a veil of menace.

He adjusted his grip on his shield, the leather strap damp and yielding, and pressed forward. Darkness pressed close, inviting him deeper. Each footfall led him further from hearth and home, from every warmth and comfort he had ever known. Something strange had been seizing the dark corners of his thoughts. Something dark from these woods he realized.

This was the place from old legends and secret tales, where once you entered, the world you knew drifted away like a half-forgotten dream. Link swallowed, calling forth every ounce of bravery he possessed. He had come this far—he would not falter now. He needed to remember his mission. He wouldn't let the silent forgetfulness take hold of him.

However, the eerie quiet of his fellow cadets missing in action couldn't be heard either. Surely, they too would be rummaging through the thick of the woods nearby he realized to himself. He wondered how they were faring if they even were at all. Yet not a stirring of them was heard. Not even a hint of their existence could be found near him at all. And the sudden realization of that sent an icy shiver up his backside.

He moved forward, heart thudding in his chest, and he sensed fate's distant games unfolding in the hush. No guiding light, no map of friendly faces would steer him now. The Sacred Flame lay somewhere ahead, and with it, the proof of his worth. The Forest of Dark Whispers had him, and the life he once knew slipped quietly from his grasp.

Yet just as Link spied a narrow trail to pass through, winding through a twisted circle of gnarled branches that clawed at the dim, filtered sunlight, he glimpsed something peculiar. A rooftop—crumbling clay tiles softened by moss and age—barely visible through the tangled thickets. An abandoned settlement, surely; what else could it possibly be, nestled forgotten within these shadowy woods?

The path twisted upon itself relentlessly, serpentine and deceitful, until Link could no longer trust his senses. It felt as though the world had inverted—his feet walking upon clouds, the sky swirling beneath him, ground replaced by a dizzying void. Still, he pressed on, compelled by the faint, tantalizing shimmer of muted sunlight glancing off ancient tiles, distant yet undeniably real. He knew he must reach it.

Yet reaching it would not be easy—nothing in these woods ever was. As swiftly as his resolve solidified, the whispers began. Softly at first, like leaves stirred by wind, gentle and harmless. But soon they grew louder, clearer, a rising chorus of disembodied murmurs rustling urgently through the underbrush, until they pressed against him, their phantom breaths warm and moist upon his neck, their haunting pleas whispering sharply at the edge of his ears. They almost sounded like, children.

"Right this way, lad, that's it," murmured the guardsman, ushering Jun carefully to the seat awaiting him beside the princess. The boy moved hesitantly forward, eyes wide with both awe and quiet unease. Zelda smiled warmly at him, eyes brightening like sunlight over calm waters as she gestured invitingly.

Just behind Jun stood Lady Anjuel, radiant and flushed with shy joy, clutching Kafei's arm. She was draped beautifully in the gown Zelda had gifted her—a garment of softest silk embroidered in silver and golden threads that caught the afternoon sun. Kafei, too, looked handsome in his carefully tailored vest and polished boots, visibly proud yet bashful before so many noble eyes.

Zelda cleared her throat. "I'm so glad you both decided to come. I was beginning to worry you wouldn't take me up on my invitation. Come, sit, and let us celebrate this happy day."

"Princess Zelda," Anjuel began shyly, dipping gracefully into a curtsey. "Forgive our lateness in accepting your kind invitation. I—I was feeling somewhat unwell yesterday. Kafei insisted I rest, lest I miss the festival entirely."

Zelda's brow knitted gently in concern, though her smile remained tender. "I hope you're feeling better now?"

"Oh yes, much improved," Anjuel said quickly, a faint flush coloring her cheeks, her hand unconsciously drifting to her abdomen before she caught herself and lowered it hastily. "I promise you, it was nothing serious."

But before either could properly offer their thanks, Arasmus interrupted, smooth as velvet yet edged with steel. "And pray tell, what joyous occasion are we to raise our cups to?"

"These two," Zelda said brightly, eyes sparkling as she warmly indicated the couple, "These two are to be bound together as one in the sight of the seven maidens and goddesses. And as fate would have it, I asked them if they would be so generous to allow us to partake in their happiness. So that we too, may be blessed by the fruit of their union."

"At that moment, King Rhoam stirred from his contemplation, his heavy voice gentler than usual as he regarded the humble pair. "Friends of my Zelda shall ever find friendship in me. Come," he commanded warmly, "and let us enjoy this happy day indeed." He clapped for placements to be made for them, a position of high honor near the princess.

Relieved, Anjuel bowed her head respectfully, eyes glistening with gratitude, while Kafei flushed with nervous pride. They quickly took their seats, murmuring heartfelt thanks as servers swiftly brought goblets brimming with cool, spiced wine and platters heaped with fruits and steaming pastries. Arasmus read the room and didn't press the matter further.

Overjoyed, the princess turned her attention fondly back to Jun, whose youthful eyes flicked nervously between Zelda and the lively festivities unfolding around them. She smiled warmly, gently teasing him. "Finally, you return! And how fares Sir Helmsworth? I caught sight of him below just before he slipped into the forest."

Jun straightened proudly, though he couldn't quite hide the nervous tremble in his voice. "He's well enough. He sent me back to keep you company—and to guard you, of course—while he continues with the trials."

Zelda's brows lifted playfully. "Is that so? You truly think yourself equal to the task? Guarding a princess is no small feat, you know."

"My sword hand's as good as any—better than most, I'd wager!" Jun declared boldly, punctuating his boast with a mock thrust of his fork, skewering some invisible foe in midair. Zelda's face brightened, laughter bubbling gently from her lips, though beside her Arasmus gave an audible scoff of disdain masked by a choke from a sip of his goblet.

Jun's bravado softened quickly, replaced by a quieter tone that almost bordered on melancholy. "Though I doubt I'll see much fighting from up here."

"Pray, let us hope not," Zelda agreed softly.

Jun on the other hand knew better and the thought of that gnawed at him. The boy swallowed hard, his youthful heart twisting uncomfortably. He liked her—liked them all, truly. Well, except maybe for Arasmus, but the others weren't so bad he realized. The dread began to bubble in his belly as he knew the hour drew nearer. Behind his friendly grin, darker thoughts gathered like storm clouds. The whispered promise of bloodshed from his clan echoed bitterly in his mind, louder and more oppressive with every breath. Desperate to feel better he shook away the worry.

Overhearing their conversation about the prospect of battles, Kafei spoke up. "Rumor among the crowds say there is fighting to be had at Salty Point near Cucco Cross."

Anjule concurred setting down her mug of perpetually cool Zora water. "Truth be told, Your Grace, simply reaching your table proved journey enough, what with the crowd's endless murmurs about pirates and other troubles at Salty Point. There seems to be a stir about it. Even the guards were hard pressed to listen and let us by—and are most alert it would seem."

"Is that right?" Zelda remarked, her eyes blinking in worry. She knew of the dispatches but played it off coolly. Jun winced inwardly at her words, pulse quickening as guilt gnawed at his heart.

"Gossips only," Arasmus drawled smoothly, raising his goblet toward the pair. He didn't care to breathe life into the comings and goings of soldier movements. Certainly, not among the rabble below. "I assure you, my father has seen to our safety here. There is no cause for worry tonight. Even if there were troubles at the Salty Shore—and that's a big if, those dangers are many leagues off."

As they spoke, Jun's young face fell shadowed, doubt gnawing relentlessly. Luckily for him, nobody noticed. He glanced nervously at the horizon beyond the vibrant festival banners, beyond the laughter and music that echoed through the pavilions and stands. For he alone knew the true threat that lurked, cloaked by the setting smiling sun. And it sure as hell wasn't at Salty Point, but right underneath their own noses. Their swords were marching the wrong way.

However, Zelda did notice the dour look on his face and spoke to cheer him up. "So, Jun, how do you find the festival from the royal vantage?"

The lad shook his head of his mood and put on a face. "It…it's wonderful, Your Highness," he said at last, forcing his voice steady and cheerful. "Better now that I'm free of Helmsworth's constant armor and weapon polishing duties. Don't tell him though.

"Oh? I won't." Zelda teased gently, brows raised in amusement. "But, are you weary of your heroic duties already? I thought you wanted to be a knight too one day?"

Jun laughed shyly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "Oh, not the heroics so much as the polishing, milady—I mean, Your Grace." Zelda smiled at his lack of formalities. It reminded her of Helmsworth and how he would fumble words at times too when they spent the day together. Oh, how she wished to get to know him more. Perhaps, his squire may give her some insight to the sort of young man he is.

"Give me monsters or stone crows—I mean, bandits any day and I'll show you how much I know of knights, the other squires can keep their wet stone or wax!" Jun declared.

Zelda's laughter was sweet and genuine at his proclamation, her bright eyes crinkling merrily. Beside her, Arasmus huffed impatiently, his gaze cool and sharp. Luckily for Jun, he had been preoccupied in mild annoyance to notice the mishap in his words. "A squire who tires at the task of polishing swords will scarcely fare better when his blade faces real foes," he remarked dryly, sipping from his goblet.

Jun snapped back defiantly, unafraid. "Lucky for me, My Lord, polishing swords isn't half as important as knowing which end to hold," he said, taking a munch from a piece of bread dipped in butter. "Sir helmsworth also said, a shiny fancy blade may impress ladies, my lord—but it's the arm behind it that impresses foes. If you'd like, I'm happy to show you what he taught me today."

Zelda quickly pressed fingers to her mouth, stifling a delighted laugh at the boy's daring cheek. This one is fearless, she realized. Arasmus's eyes narrowed sharply above his goblet, clearly displeased, but Jun merely returned an innocent grin, triumphant yet boyishly mischievous.

But before any further debate over whose battle prowess might prevail, Purah returned swiftly, Robbie trailing miserably behind her. "Bugger it all!" the Sheikah scientist groaned loudly, collapsing dramatically into the seat beside Zelda. Only then did her eyes narrow curiously at the new arrivals. "And who, pray tell, is this?" she asked, adjusting her spectacles for a closer look at Jun.

Zelda's eyes sparkled as she turned warmly toward the boy. "This is Jun—Helmsworth's squire, whom I mentioned earlier."

"Oh, yes, of course, I remember now," Purah muttered distractedly, already losing interest as she glared irritably toward Robbie.

"I take it there's no luck yet with the tablet?" Zelda ventured carefully, her voice tinged with gentle caution.

Purah groaned, throwing a sharp glance sideways. "None, and no thanks to this useless lump of stone," she huffed, motioning indignantly to Robbie as he awkwardly took the chair next to her. "I swear, Princess, I have to do everything myself."

Robbie cleared his throat, adopting a wounded air. "Perhaps—and just perhaps—if someone hadn't rushed ahead without proper consultation, neglecting all protocol and thorough research, the relic might already be functioning." He gave Purah a pointed glance, adding with exaggerated dignity, "Besides, I have been entrusted to oversee the three relics for tonight's ascension ceremony—or have you forgotten? Mayhaps, if you would have waited for me, my research may have been of value to you."

"Bugger your research." Purah huffed in annoyance. Zelda couldn't tell if they were truly mad with each other, or this was a clever way to mask their flirting.

Purah rolled her eyes dramatically, launching into hushed, sharp banter with Robbie, oblivious to the princess who had already reached curiously toward the stone artifact lying quietly on the table. As Zelda lifted it carefully into the sunlight, the stone surface gleamed faintly. Captivated, Jun's gaze fixed immediately upon the familiar glow, his breath catching softly in his throat.

Noticing his awe-struck expression, Zelda smiled gently. "Amazing, isn't it? Our research team recovered this in the ruins near the Dying Mountains. We've only begun to understand what wonders of the ancient world it might unlock."

Jun nodded slowly, mind racing faster than his heart. He'd seen such artifacts before from his past, he remembered one his father carried—some even endured to make it to the sanctums of the Yiga had hidden dotting the edges of the kingdom. Though he dared not say so aloud. He swallowed thickly, quickly masking his unease. "Yeah, it's...quite something, Your Highness," he murmured dismissively, feigning mild interest.

Zelda giggled softly, mistaking his hesitation for childish ignorance. "I don't think you understand, my young squire," she chided gently, excitement tinging her voice. "This small thing holds the power to reshape our world. Here, look closer."

She ran her fingertips lightly along its spine, triggering a pulse of cerulean brilliance as it awakened. Jun couldn't help himself; his eyes widened momentarily, betraying fascination before he swiftly covered it with studied indifference.

Purah, who had finally disengaged from her whispered argument, interjected abruptly. "See, that's precisely as far as it gets—just a flicker of light, nothing more. The pedestal below will rise briefly, and as surely as sunset, the device powers down, leaving us as mystified as before." She shot a sidelong glare at Robbie. "Unless our resident genius here has suddenly conjured a brilliant solution?"

Robbie sighed dramatically, shrugging in exasperation. "How many times must I say—I've been occupied elsewhere. Moving the relics for tonight's ascension ceremony takes no small amount of care!"

"Excuses," Purah muttered, arms folded.

As the two Sheikah began to argue again, Zelda glanced down curiously at the device in her hands, perplexed. Beside her, Jun's heart thumped erratically as anxiety and impatience warred within him. He bit his lip, the truth pressing unbearably against his tongue until finally, despite himself, he blurted out softly: "Have you tried joining the slate directly with the control panel, then activating it?"

Silence fell abruptly. Purah's mouth hung open agape with surprise while Robbie's glasses fell to the bridge of his nose; and Zelda's eyes blinked in startled confusion. The idea just might work, they collectively thought.

"Slate?" Zelda repeated softly, glancing down at the artifact in her hands. "Control panel?" The terms illuded her. "Jun, how would you know to do that?"

Jun stiffened, a flush warming his cheeks, panic quickening his pulse as he realized he'd revealed too much. "I—I just thought...it seemed obvious, doesn't it?" he stumbled, cheeks reddening beneath Zelda's questioning gaze. He needed an escape—and quickly. "Maybe just a stupid guess,—" He paused, eyes darting frantically until they fell upon a sheikah servant standing discreetly nearby, offering him salvation. Just his luck. "Pray, Princess, may I be excused? I, um, need to make water."

Zelda felt heat rise immediately to her own cheeks, embarrassment mingled with gentle amusement at the boy's blunt innocence in choice of words. "Of course, shall I have someone escort y—"

"—Thanks, but I think I know the way, milady," Jun muttered, cheeks burning fiercely. "I mean—thank you, Your Grace."

Without waiting for another reply, Jun slipped swiftly away from the table, practically fleeing toward the servant below. The boy's heart pounded painfully, his guilt threatening to choke him. He knew the servant's true identity—knew all too well those scars above his eyes, mask or no mask covering the bottom half of his face. And of the dark tidings he brought.

"What are you doing here!?" Jun said in a shouted whisper, daring to shove the servant against the wall, though the man barely budged against his force.

"What does it look like? I'm tending to the beckon need of these no-good high born making sure you're doing your job," said the servant now known to be a fellow Yiga infiltrator. "To keep an eye and make sure you don't get cold feet."

"I told you I won't, so stop following me. I got this. Sensei entrusted me, remember? You're like to just get in the way! If I need you, you'll know."

"Sorry, but like it or don't I don't take orders from alley cats like you." The man scoffed as Jun stood defiantly below him. "But don't you fret, boy, I know how much you enjoy to play with your food before the deed is done." And with that, before Jun could retaliate, the man slinked off away, a servant once more and a practiced elegance about him leaving the boy to stew in his thoughts.

Link froze, his breath catching sharply in his throat as the voices surged louder around him. Each whispered plea echoed like the faint murmurs of forgotten souls, slipping invisibly between twisted branches and tangles of ivy, urgent and pleading. He strained his ears desperately, trying to discern their source, yet found nothing but shadows and vapor.

Suddenly, high above the dense canopy, a fierce red arrow streaked upward, piercing the dusky sky like a comet aflame. Link's heart skipped, dread seizing him as a second arrow followed swiftly, then a third—crimson sparks scattering brightly across the evening haze. It was the signal of surrender. Three initiates, perhaps more, abandoning the trial. He shuddered inwardly, suddenly fearful for Orin and Sven, hoping against reason they weren't among those who'd faltered.

He drew a shallow, trembling breath, forcing aside fear. He had his own battles yet to face, trials yet to conquer. There was no turning back now.

Yet, as Link gathered his resolve and turned once more toward the narrow trail, he halted abruptly. He blinked, heart thrumming with confusion—there was no trace of the forgotten settlement he'd glimpsed moments before. The tiled roof had vanished completely, as if the forest itself had erased its existence. Only a rolling fog lingered, thick and oppressive, twisting among trees as ancient as time.

He swallowed dryly, tightening his grip on the hilt of his arming sword, feeling the reassuring weight of his buckler strapped firmly to his forearm. A cold sweat broke on his neck, trickling down his spine like ice-water. Again the whispers rose around him, this time louder, clearer—voices of children, sometimes frightened and others laughing, their tiny whispers echoing unbearably through the endless gloom. He pressed forward, forcing shaky steps ahead, through tendrils of vapor that clung to his clothes like ghostly fingers.

His breath quickened painfully, matching the pounding rhythm of his heart. Something was here—something unseen yet near enough to feel its hateful breath. And then, before he could even think to prepare himself, a monstrous roar split the mist apart, a sound so terrible and ferocious it seemed to tear through the very fabric of the world.

Instinct took hold. Link lunged blindly forward, sword slicing through thickened air, striking nothing but emptiness, mist scattering mockingly at the wild swing. Get a grip, Link.

But his resolve evaporated just as it came. He pivoted sharply at the sudden snapping of a twig just behind him, the warmth of air as an arm reached out for his shoulder. Instead, he thrusted his blade forward instinctively—only to halt mid-motion, suspended in shock.

Before him stood not a beast, but a figure cloaked in mystery—a bald, wizened man, his long, flowing beard pale as moonlight cascading gently over robes of faded azure and grey. In his gnarled hand, he clutched an ancient staff, intricately carved and crowned with a mysterious jewel glowing softly with otherworldly light, as if from another time.

Fear and surprise surged together in Link's veins; panic overtook reason. He slashed again without thinking, desperate, terrified, blade whistling sharply toward the elder's chest. This must have been one of the dark illusions Athelon warned them all against. He would not fail.

Yet with grace impossible for one so aged, the old sage flicked his wrist upward casually, the staff blazing white with sudden magic, and effortlessly parried Link's blade aside. The sword rebounded violently as though striking stone, the ringing echo reverberating through Link's trembling bones.

He scarcely had time to gasp before the elder raised his staff, the carved jewel flaring fiercely with light brighter than midday sun. A powerful force burst outward, striking Link squarely in the chest, hurtling him backward into blackness.

The forest dissolved around him, whispers fading into silence as consciousness slipped like sand through trembling fingers. Link sank deeper, swallowed by a darkness both frightening and comforting, drifting helplessly, haunted by a single, unanswered question that lingered even as the world abandoned him: Who are you?

Authors notes: I apologize for the late drop of chapters. I have been so preoccupied with the audiobook, with directing actors, editing takes and such it has taken a bit of time from my writing. Not to mention, work has been rough lately as well. There is more to come and I hope this bit can hold you over until then. I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know in a comment what you think or what you suspect might happen next. It really helps me. Now until we meet again friend, safe travels wherever you are in Hyrule.

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why we failed pt. 23

A splash from the past

Jun had scarcely turned away from the stairs when Purah swept directly into his path, a fierce spark behind her oversized spectacles. The young Sheikah scientist planted her small fists firmly upon her hips, brows raised sharply as though daring him to move another inch.

"Just where do you think you're off to in such a hurry, little squire? Off to learn more tricks?"

"Uh, t—tricks?" Jun asked coyly as if he had no idea what she possibly could be referring to.

"Or to keep them secret? In any case I need to know how you knew—"

"—Knew what?" Jun cut her off sharply.

"Don't play the child with me. C'mon now, what makes you say what you did earlier?"

"Uh, I was just guessing. I swear." Jun deflected, hoping she'd take the confession of desperation in his eyes as a sign of truthfulness.

"Well, guess or no guess, you're coming with me to help. It's decided."

"What? Help? But I—"

"—You heard me." Purah asked pointedly, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I need you to teach me more of those tricks down at the arena—and quickly. We have a festival to run."

I don't know of any tricks. Just simple truths, you stupid sheikah, he thought and wanted to say. But instead, he just gulped. Just as she tugged on his hand to follow, he froze, his heart quickening as he glanced nervously toward where the disguised Yiga attendant was moments earlier who vanished. The rest of the ceremonial masks to hand out—the key part of their plan—waited below, and he'd already lingered too long. He shifted anxiously, searching desperately for a convincing excuse.

"Well, come on, no time to lose," Purah spun back around to pout at his hesitation.

"But, I, uh—" Jun stammered, eyes darting briefly toward the princess. Zelda raised an amused brow, clearly intrigued from afar. "I have to fetch the masks for the masquerade tonight, the princess asked me so," he managed finally, fumbling for confidence. "The festival tradition is very important, after all. Surely someone else can help you, I mean, it's not like I know how to—it was just a lucky guess, I swear it—"

"—Bugger tradition," Purah scoffed abruptly, cutting him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Robbie's busy, the princess is occupied with entertaining the easily dazzled, and I've had enough of waiting. Besides," she added pointedly, leaning closer until Jun felt her sharp eyes bore straight through him, "you're the one who made that curious little remark about the pillar, or what was it again you called it, 'control panel', was it? Where I come from, lucky guesses are rarer than dragon scales, little knight. Come, let's see if there are any more gems hidden in that noggin of yours."

Jun swallowed hard, a lump rising uncomfortably in his throat as panic prickled down his spine. "It—it really was just a guess," he protested weakly, his voice betraying more fear than he intended. "Honest, I have no gems in my head. Just silly ideas that's all. Surely, someone else smarter can help you—"

"—Nope!" Purah barked firmly, shaking her head so vigorously that her glasses slid slightly down her nose. She adjusted them impatiently with a shove of her fingertip. "Your guess, your responsibility. And it might just be crazy enough to work with your help to figure it out. Come now, we don't have all day."

Jun's mouth opened to argue further, but Zelda interrupted, her voice gentle yet commanding as she walked up to them to see what the commotion was about; curiosity gleaming softly behind her eyes. "Found your way well enough, I hope?" The princess smiled encouragingly at Jun, entirely unaware of how deep her words pierced his conflicted heart.

"Mhmm," is all Jun could manage to gulp by.

"Oh yeah, about that," Purah Interrupted to inform Zelda. "Me and your little squire here are about to become best pals, aren't we Juni?" she said, nicknaming the boy, much to his dislike. He couldn't help but screw up his face when she did.

Juni? I'm not some dumb pony, he thought. Purah reassured the arrangement with her arms around his shoulders as if they were long and old trusted friends.

"Is that so?" Zelda blinked, evaluating the unlikely duo. Jun forced a weak smile as if to say all is well. "In that case, why not, besides it looks like Arasmus and my uncle need me for the time being." The princess gestured for them both to see where she was gazing to. Her uncle appeared to be in some sort of debate with the young lord. The princess knew this was her duty to quash any contention, light hearted or otherwise on this magnanimous day. "I better go and offer whatever assistance I can. Goddess knows that once they get going, the barbs back and forth will never end. I trust you will be okay with Purah?" she asked, with a final glance at Jun.

Jun only nodded and Purah spoke on his behalf. "Oh, not a problem at all. Go and save them from themselves. Will be back in no time at all." The sheikah said happily, clicking her thumb and forefinger with a delightful snap that pang off the enclosure.

Jun's shoulders slumped, resignation settling heavily as the princess turned away. Trapped neatly between duty and deception, he cast one last nervous glance toward the shadowy stairwell which led to below where his others were, taking with him Jun's chance to ready their plans.

Purah grinned triumphantly, patting Jun lightly—if not somewhat patronizingly—on the shoulder. "There now, wasn't so hard, was it?" she teased, steering him firmly toward the stairs leading down to the festival grounds below. "You'll be fetching masks in no time—after you help us make history."

He swallowed bitterly, following obediently at her heels, a sickening dread mingling with faint, reluctant pride. If only she knew precisely what history he was about to make.

Link awoke to darkness, a thick, suffocating gloom so profound he wondered if his eyes were open at all. The ground beneath him was cool and damp, layers of fallen leaves pressed soft and yielding against his palms as he struggled to push himself upright. But his head spun wildly, swimming as though he'd been cast adrift in some unseen black current. His stomach twisted, bile rising sharply at the back of his throat, the faint taste of copper lingering bitterly on his tongue.

Carefully, Link brought a trembling hand to the back of his head. There, beneath the tousled mess of his hair, he felt a jagged wound, hot and wet against his fingertips. He winced, the sharp sting piercing through the haze of confusion that clouded his mind.

The old man. The memory flashed vividly, painfully clear: the gleaming cane, or was it a wizard's staff? He couldn't be sure. Ugh, but that fierce light erupting from nowhere, and then nothingness. What sort of sorcery was that? He mused as he tried to get his bearings.

But as he pressed his fingers against the wound once more, suddenly it was gone—vanished as swiftly as a breath on a cold morning. His eyes widened in startled disbelief. He rubbed again desperately, heart pounding, searching for the injury he knew had been there moments before. Nothing. Not even the faintest trace remained.

His breath quickened in frightened confusion. What sorcery is this? he thought, his heart thundering violently against his ribs. Magic was nothing but children's stories—tales whispered by old nursemaids beside the twinkling embers of hearths. He'd never seen nor felt its like. He hardly believed it could exist.

Yet, here in the silent stillness of the wood, something had undeniably touched him. Something had healed him.

A voice murmured gently through the darkness, rich and deep, woven with kindness yet weighted by an ageless melancholy: "Be at ease, brave one. You are safe here."

Link jerked his head upward instinctively, though still blind in the darkness. "Who are you?" he called, his voice raw and uncertain. "Was it you who attacked me?"

The voice chuckled softly, the gentle rumble reverberating through the very trees around him. "I attacked no one, young one. But I know of whom you speak. That guardian meant you no harm."

Link steadied his breathing, forcing the tremble from his voice. "Then why strike me down?"

"To open your eyes," the voice replied patiently, calm and unhurried. "You wander these woods blind—not merely in body, but in purpose and spirit. He sought only to help you see."

Link shook his head, frustration tangling with disbelief. "Help me see what? All I see is darkness—nothing but shadows and illusions. These woods toy with me."

Again, the quiet laughter, tinged now with wisdom beyond reckoning. "Indeed, these woods test all who enter. Yet, listen carefully: beyond illusion lies truth. Feel it, child—search your heart."

"I'm no child, I'm six and ten, nearly a man grown." Link defended boldly.

"All men are children under me." The voice replied heartily and firm. "A treasure of destiny awaits you, sleeping still beneath these ancient trees. Its song resonates even now, faintly within you, if only you care to quiet your mind and listen."

"A treasure?" Link echoed softly, incredulity slipping into wonder despite himself. He must mean the sacred torch. But even as he stewed on that idea, a strange pulse stirred in his chest, a gentle tug deep within—a feeling he couldn't quite name. A sense of familiarity, of longing. The thought of it, abstract and distant, filled him with warmth he'd never known. However, it had nothing to do with the thought of the ancient flame.

"One that seals the darkness," the voice continued solemnly, more urgently now. "By journey's end and where the paths cross. Though not yet—not today."

Link's breath steadied, the darkness around him beginning to feel oddly comforting rather than oppressive. "The flame! The sacred torch, to dispel the darkness and win the trials. Where—where is it?"

The voice chuckled, rustling leaves gently overhead. "Who told of any torch?"

"But, if you're not speaking of a torch, then what?"

The voice seemed to ignore his question and spoke thunderous and earnestly, rustling the leaves around him in the blackness as if relaying a message as old as time. "Hearken unto my words and hear this song, for shadows move swiftly, and courage alone may not suffice.
A treasure once lost, asleep too long. Beneath the bows of ancient shade, destiny rests—in light remade. When courage finds the heart most true, the shadows flee, the hero's due.
Seek not strength, nor a fleeting flame, but star-forged steel by which you'll earn your name."

The final echoes of the song faded slowly, carried away by the gentle breath of the wind, leaving Link standing alone in the quiet darkness, bewildered yet strangely hopeful, the cryptic verses lingering like embers within his mind.

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak again, the voice receded gently into silence, leaving him alone once more with only the quiet rustle of wind and leaf, and the faint, lingering warmth in his heart.

The darkness faded gradually from pitch black to deep gray, shapes of twisted trees and tangled brush slowly emerging. Link rose carefully to his feet, steadier now, confusion ebbing into determination. His fingers drifted again to the spot where the wound had been, finding nothing but healed flesh.

Magic was real after all, that or he was going mad at the ripe old age of six and ten. And somewhere ahead, beyond whispers and illusions, a longing called to him from the shadows, quietly promising a destiny he was unable to comprehend.

Jun stood quietly beside the sleek stone podium at the center of the arena, arms folded, watching Purah fuss impatiently over the ancient control panel. Her small hands darted here and there, tracing invisible paths over the carved Sheikah symbols, her glasses sliding further down her nose with each irritated motion. Every so often, she released an annoyed grunt, mumbling obscenities under her breath that Jun pretended not to hear.

"Impossible—completely impossible!" Purah snapped, shoving her glasses roughly back into place. "If Robbie had done half the work he claims, we'd have this thing activated already. How hard could it be to make sure there's wood to fuel the furnaces? I mean, really!"

Jun rolled his eyes discreetly, keeping silent. He knew exactly how the slate worked—every true blood Yiga did—but he was no fool; better to feign ignorance than betray his true origins further.

At that moment, quick footsteps echoed over the grass, and Zelda appeared from across the field, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with amusement. Robbie followed close behind, a flurry of nervous energy in his every step.

"There you are!" Zelda called warmly as she approached. "I thought you might have it working by now, Purah."

"Almost," she huffed. "But what about you? Your uncle and that Serpent lord?"

"Oh, I grew tired of their endless sword-measuring contests. So, I put a swift end to it."

Purah fixed her glasses and evaluated Zelda from head to toe. She then leaned her hip into her hand as she spoke. "Who are you and what have you done with my friend, the princess? You may have heard of her?" Purah said sarcastically. "Roughly this yay high," the girl appraised with her hands "She is doe eyed, honey haired, and professes not to like boy-knights named Sir-Helmsworth even though she really does?"

Zelda blushed and snapped, ignoring her jests. "I'm the heir apparent now, so they best be getting used to hearing my voice. No more the shy maid from me."

"Way to go princess!" Purah said clapping her hands. "Who knew you had it in you?"

Robby interjected, delightfully. "You missed quite a show."

Purah's elation dissolved as she turned to face him. "The only show you're going to be worrying about is what I'm going to do to you if I don't get this contraption to work."

Robbie snorted, catching up behind the princess, adjusting the loose fabric of his Sheikah robes. "Well, lucky for you, I'm here now—I'll have this contraption humming a lovely tune in just a snap."

Purah smiled mischievously. "That's more like it. Now get over here and help."

For what seemed like hours the two scientists went at it, and whenever the princess opened her mouth to offer a meek solution of her own, they as one would raise a finger to her to wait.

Jun didn't have Zelda's patience and cleared his throat quietly, growing impatient. "At this rate the trials will be over," he muttered dryly.

Zelda looked curiously at the boy, noticing his annoyance. "Jun, you were the one to mention bringing the two together before—perhaps you can guide them again?"

Purah spun quickly, narrowing sharp eyes on the young squire. "That's right, little squire. You made such an insightful guess before. Care to enlighten us again? Or perhaps you're waiting for a divine vision to come along?"

Jun sighed softly, feeling heat creep up his neck. "Here, give it to me," he said finally, stepping forward with exaggerated reluctance, fingers deftly brushing the carved stone symbols. "You have to align the markings on the slate precisely—like this."

Purah leaned forward sharply, eyes widening behind her spectacles as Jun adjusted the slate in his hand with practiced ease. A faint blue glow emerged, blossoming softly beneath his touch, illuminating the ancient Sheikah symbols on both slate and pillar. Robbie's mouth hung open in mild astonishment.

"See?" Jun continued impatiently, carefully masking the familiarity in his voice. "Align the symbols to match and say the password aloud or in your mind. It's simple enough, really."

"Simple enough?" Robbie echoed incredulously, leaning over Purah's shoulder. "That's ancient Sheikah encryption—password? No one alive should know it."

"Well, apparently this child does," Purah muttered irritably, grabbing the slate from Jun's hands, yet unable to fully hide the gleeful curiosity in her voice. "How did you?"

Jun groaned. "The password is always the same. Has got to be."

Zelda blinked, almost unable to fathom what she was hearing. "Got to be?" How could he possibly know such a thing? Purah was about to interrogate him but Jun thought of a clever reply and a disguise to his knowledge. "The password is banana, of course. Everyone knows Sheikah like yourselves like to gorge on bananas," he boy said as if it was a matter of fact.

Purah was taken aback and Robby feigned offense. Purah of course, didn't want anyone to think she was a glutton for such fruity treats. Zelda couldn't help but suppress a giggle, it's faint breath escaping her lips as she saw the bewildered faces of her friends being outwitted by a boy.

Jun continued haughtily as if to reveal a treasured secret, "Don't dare to deny it. It's alright. Bananas are quite tasty. Besides, every pot boy to high lord from here to Zora's Domain knows that it's what you all like. You're just thinking too hard on it, that's all. Not everything needs to be some grand plan."

Zelda spoke up, a faint scratch in her voice. "But, how did you know a password would be involved at all?"

"Why wouldn't there be a password?" Jun deflected. His pulse quickened slightly—lying to Zelda's trusting face cut deeper than he expected—but he kept his voice steady, casual as a simple jest. "I doubt they'd let anyone use their devices; I know I wouldn't. And besides, there's a Hylian scribbling on the side. It says, 'password?'. Sheesh, see?" he said, pointing to a scratch on the pillar not originally a part of the relic.

The carving looked ages old but still legible in the common script. It seemed even back then Hylians tried to decipher the mysteries of his ancestors which were so common knowledge for him. The others simply didn't notice the markings because they were eye-level to him, and they overlooked it. "So, I just guessed. It's no big deal."

Jun stepped back slowly, standing again beside Zelda, silently relieved as their attention shifted fully to the now-glowing pillar. Unnoticed, he let his gaze flicker briefly downward, memorizing the slate's markings—the tiny runes and symbols etched clearly in his mind, the way through its secrets now clearer than ever. Unlike them, he could actually read them fully.

Their designs would be useful to the clan soon enough. He swallowed hard, glancing up at Zelda, her eyes sparkling innocently as she watched Purah and Robbie chatter excitedly over the newfound discovery.

Guilt knotted painfully in his chest, but he quickly shoved it aside. He couldn't afford it—not now. Not when so much was at stake.

Before anyone could utter another word, the earth ahead began to tremble softly, an echoing hum resonating beneath their feet. Jun stepped back, startled, as the grassy earth parted seamlessly, retreating to reveal a hidden, giant marvel buried deep beneath their very feet.

Slow and gracefully, a structure of pale, polished stone rose, crowned by a grand and ornate fountain, intricately carved in the unmistakable designs of the Sheikah. Water sprang forth in a crystalline cascade, pouring from the sculpted mouths of large, stone guardians, their watchful faces serene yet majestic. The cool rush of water filled the air, carrying with it the crisp, refreshing scent of rainfall mingled with ancient, moss-covered stone.

Zelda's breath caught sharply, astonishment painted clearly upon her face. She stared upward, eyes wide with wonder as the waters rushed downward in smooth, hypnotic arcs, splashing gently into a wide, perfectly crafted basin beneath. She drew in the crisp air, savoring the scent, savoring this moment of pure, childlike discovery.

"By the Goddess…" Zelda whispered breathlessly, stepping closer, drawn irresistibly to the large basin's edge. Her fingertips gently grazed the carved patterns, tracing delicate etchings of wave and fin alongside the angular Sheikah script. "The craftsmanship—it's remarkable. Sheikah-built, undoubtedly, yet…" she hesitated, tracing a carved scale gently. "These carvings…this elegance. It's almost as if the Zora themselves aided in its construction."

Purah approached hurriedly, adjusting her spectacles and peering closely at the designs. Robbie, speechless for once, stood open-mouthed at her side.

"Zora influence indeed," Purah finally agreed, voice hushed in awe. "That would explain such seamless waterflow. Incredible."

Suddenly, the stone podium behind them illuminated brilliantly, projecting a beam of shimmering blue-white light directly onto the falling sheet of waterfall into the basin. The cascading waters became a liquid canvas, revealing crystal-clear images moving upon its surface—to their amazement and wonder, the moving images of the cadets themselves, braving the trials deep within the shadowed woods; others already defeated.

Gasps and cheers erupted from the crowds watching from the stands, delight and astonishment mingling into a single thunderous wave of joyous applause. Nobles and commoners alike rose excitedly from their seats, pointing eagerly, eyes wide in disbelief, murmuring in wonder as they watched the cadets, their trials now vividly alive before them.

Zelda stepped back, pressing her fingertips against her chest as if to calm the pounding of her own heart. She could scarcely believe her eyes—this magic—no, technology, ancient yet vibrant, unfolding before them, reconnecting their world to a heritage long forgotten. She glanced briefly toward Jun, whose expression remained carefully guarded, eyes thoughtfully distant.

Yet her attention was quickly drawn back to the spectacle, her pulse racing joyfully. "It's beautiful," she murmured quietly, almost to herself. "Beautiful beyond anything I've ever imagined."

And standing there beneath the glowing waters, her heart buoyed by wonder, Zelda allowed herself, for just a moment, to believe that perhaps the mysteries of the past were not beyond reach—and perhaps, neither were her dreams of tomorrow.

Authors Note: Short chapter, but another coming sooner rather than later, friends. That being said I will be wrapping up this arc swifter than I hoped and it was due to lots of changes that delayed me this much. Entire plots thrown out and changed. But, I hope with what is now the story, you do like them. Let me know in a comment what your thoughts are. Also, if you want to support this work, you can do so by giving the audiobook a listen on youtube. You can search for it by my channel name Sir Link. It will be greatly appreciated. Thanks again for reading and until next time, stay well, wherever you journey in Hyrule.

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why we failed pt. 24

The Flame and the Fountain

Zelda stood mesmerized, eyes wide as the shimmering cascade of water displayed a clear, astonishing projection of the trials unfolding deep within the Forest of Dark Whispers. Each droplet sparkled like liquid crystal, painting vivid scenes before the breathless spectators gathered around the majestic fountain.

In one flickering image, an initiate stumbled frantically through tangled branches strung thick with silvery webs, sword slashing desperately against a swarm of dog-sized spiders crawling swiftly across bark and leaf. The grotesque creatures, to her recollection, resembled what she could only remember from fables as—Ghoma spawn, by the looks of them. But that couldn't be so? Could it? They were believed to be long extinct and haven't existed since the Age of Heroes when the Holy KNIGHTs of Skyfyre burnt their underground nests in the deep pits and mines under the dying mountains of stone; creating the great chasm known as the Mouth of Demise today.

They clicked menacingly, their ruby eyes gleaming hungrily, sharp mandibles snapping toward the terrified boy. She couldn't tell who he was, but nevertheless drew her hand up to her mouth in frightened awe.

Beside her, Robbie gasped softly, adjusting his glasses in fascinated horror. "I may be speaking too soon, but are those…Ghomites?" he muttered, half-awed, half-disgusted. "It can't be. Well, in any case, nasty things. He'll be lucky to keep all his limbs at this rate," he finished with a shiver.

Zelda shuddered involuntarily as well, turning her gaze anxiously to the next shifting scene cascading on the water. Another initiate of the guard wandered aimlessly, visibly disoriented, through an oppressive maze of fog-drenched shrubbery. His pointed sword barely pierced the dense mist, casting ghostly silhouettes that seemed to whisper and mock him from every shadowed corner. He looked on the verge of panic; a once-tan lad Zelda knew from afar now pale as sour milk with fear.

"Poor chap," Purah murmured, clicking her tongue sympathetically. "He could wander those shrubs until dawn and never find the flame. What sort of cruel test is this, by the way?" she said, looking to the princess for an explanation, seeing that it was her ancestors who had orchestrated this whole ordeal as some majestic test.

Just as she spoke, a vibrant red arrow streaked upward through the darkening sky, startling Zelda into hopping back where she stood. Then came another and another. Soon the sky sang with shooting stars of crimson flames illuminating the twilight canopy above the projection. Several cadets had surrendered, she knew, and the waterfall shimmered briefly to display one after the other; their defeated forms slumped against a gnarled oak, despair clear in their downcast eyes.

Zelda's breath hitched suddenly, dread curling uncomfortably within her chest. She scanned every droplet anxiously, searching each fleeting image for one familiar face.

Helmsworth was nowhere to be found. Not in the trial, nor in retreat.

"He's not there…" she whispered softly, dread stealing strength from her voice. "I—I don't see Helmsworth. But—but how? Where could he be?"

Purah folded her arms casually, though her voice held an edge of snarky curiosity. "Maybe your knight's just slate-view shy, Your Grace—or perhaps the forest is saving the best for last."

Purah's eyes softened slightly at the princess's visible distress, though she quickly masked it behind her playful smirk.

Zelda turned sharply, eyes narrowing at her careless tone, her voice tight. "This is no joke, Purah. He could be hurt. Or worse."

Jun shook his head and placed a gentle hand on Zelda's arm, squeezing reassuringly. "The trial isn't over yet, Princess. There's still hope. Helmsworth knows his stuff; I've seen him. Ain't no silly bunch of twigs and shadows going to defeat him that easily."

Robbie nodded swiftly, voice soothing yet uncertain. "Yes, quite true. These ancient forests love to play tricks with the senses. Perhaps he's simply beyond view at the moment."

Their reassurances offered little comfort. Anxiety tightened Zelda's heart painfully, yet before she could respond, a commanding voice broke through her fear, rising clear and regal across the arena.

"Master of the Skies! You and your men, take flight! Now is your hour!"

Heads turned swiftly toward the Grand Herald, who stood proudly upon a raised dais. At his command, Revali could only shrug, while his fellow Rito warriors leaped gracefully from their perches, powerful wings unfolding magnificently against the fading, fiery gleam of the vanishing sun beyond the horizon.

Typical Revali, Zelda thought with mild exasperation, though her heart remained heavy with worry.

As one, the Rito soared skyward, their leader effortlessly catching up to the others who had a head start with a theatrical flair. Moving as one their feathers caught the dying light, shining like polished steel and amber glass.

Gasps of admiration swept through the gathered crowds, cheers erupting from the stands at the majestic spectacle. Even in her worry, Zelda couldn't help but pause, momentarily entranced by the graceful flight of the winged warriors, their silhouettes starkly beautiful against the fading glow.

"The fallen will soon be retrieved," Purah whispered encouragingly, following Zelda's awed gaze. "They'll bring word of Helmsworth soon enough. You'll see."

Zelda merely nodded, biting her lip anxiously. She clutched her fingers tightly, feeling the cool breeze carried by the flutter of distant wings as the Rito soared high above, their graceful forms melting slowly into shadow.

"I hope you're right," she murmured quietly, eyes fixed upon the deepening twilight, searching desperately for any sign of the one face she longed most to see. In that instance, Purah wanted to help ease her worry, so she grabbed the slate which sat on the control pillar.

"There has to be some sort of way to get this thing to show what we want to see!" Purah mumbled aloud, poking and prodding impatiently at the face of the slate with her fingers to no avail. Zelda blinked distractedly, watching as Robbie eagerly rushed alongside Purah to assist—only to earn himself a playful shove and a warning glare not to interfere with her genius.

Jun rolled his eyes at their antics, weighing silently if he should step in or keep himself at a safe distance. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing over to Zelda once more. At the sorrowful look etched across the princess's features, his chest tightened unexpectedly, his decision becoming painfully clear.

"Here, let me at it," Jun finally sighed, stepping forward reluctantly, holding out a small hand.

Purah's head snapped sharply toward him, skepticism painted across her face. "You? Well…" She paused, visibly reconsidering her stubbornness before relenting with a shrug. "Oh, fine. Why not? Here," she muttered, handing him the slate.

The boy grasped the artifact carefully, fingers brushing its cool, smooth surface—but just as he did, the slate suddenly fizzled, flickered weakly, and then abruptly went dark.

Jun's heart stopped, breath catching sharply in his throat. A flicker of genuine panic flashed through his eyes as he stared helplessly at the darkened slate—this wasn't part of the plan.

"What did you do?!" Purah exclaimed loudly, hands flying to her hips in exasperation.

"N—nothing, I just…it just…died?" the boy stammered out, genuinely confused for once, nearly forgetting his practiced act entirely.

Purah leaned forward, eyes wide behind her spectacles, her voice rising sharply with scientific indignation. "But that's impossible—it was just on that pillar, that Guidance Stone!" She said, dubbing the device once and for all. "Robbie, you saw it yourself!"

Robbie scratched his head nervously, leaning in to glance closer. "She's right. It shouldn't have just gone dead like that. Perhaps you accidentally triggered some sort of failsafe mechanism?"

Jun shook his head vigorously, feeling heat rise to his cheeks, fear prickling down his spine as they stared at him expectantly. "No! I—I don't know. It wasn't my fault—"

Zelda raised a gentle hand, stepping between them swiftly. "It's alright, Jun. No one's blaming you," she said calmly, though her worried gaze lingered on the darkened slate. Her voice softened, turning thoughtful. "But if it's truly dead…how will we find Helmsworth?"

An uneasy silence fell between them, broken only by distant cheers from the crowds who remained blissfully unaware of the small drama unfolding beneath their very noses. Jun's pulse hammered anxiously, trapped somewhere between relief and guilt. He stole a quick glance upward at Zelda's troubled eyes, realizing with cold certainty he'd only made matters worse.

Link opened his eyes slowly, his vision swimming before gradually settling, like leaves drifting gently to rest upon the surface of a woodland pool. The voice—the deep, wise murmur that had whispered truths and riddles into his heart—was gone, vanished into an unsettling silence. Nothing stirred save for the muted whisper of wind, slipping carefully through the darkened branches.

Sitting up carefully, Link touched the back of his head, half expecting to feel the jagged sting of injury. Yet nothing was there, not even a hint of a wound. He inhaled sharply, a flutter of unease rising in his chest. Magic. Had it truly healed him? Was such a thing even possible? His pulse quickened, doubt trickling coldly through his veins.

"It was him," Link muttered quietly into the mist, testing the words aloud as if their sound might make them more believable. "That old man—sage or sorcerer, whatever he was. But he said…he said he meant no harm."

A bitter taste lingered in Link's mouth, suspicion coiling like vines within his chest. No, he reminded himself firmly. He couldn't blindly trust any vision or voice conjured within these woods. Not yet, anyway.

Link rose unsteadily to his feet, brushing dirt from his trousers and scanning his surroundings. The red-clay tiled building, strange and vivid in his memory, had vanished without a trace. Instead, shadows and fog pressed close, trees twisted into eerie shapes, their dark branches like grasping fingers reaching toward him. The whispers were gone too, swallowed by silence. Had he imagined it all? Was it nothing more than a fever dream conjured by this maddening forest?

"Enough," Link chided himself sternly. He tightened his grip upon reality, anchoring himself to the familiar weight of his boots sinking softly into the mossy earth. "Think. Just focus."

He stepped forward carefully through the mist, trusting instinct to guide his feet. After a short distance, the trees parted suddenly, as though the forest had grown weary of games. Link halted, astonishment striking him like a blow. Ahead, bathed in faint moonlight and gently drifting mist, stood an ancient grove, timeless and serene. In the center lay a wide, circle platform a step high of worn, solemn stone, arranged around a dark basin carved from heavy, weathered rock, filled with an oily liquid that glistened quietly beneath the night sky. It looked older than any construction he has seen before.

Link's eyes widened in disbelief. Had the mysterious sage brought him here, directly to victory? Or had he battled his way through and simply forgotten? His memories twisted and blurred maddeningly, offering no clarity. He rubbed his temples gently, frustration tightening his jaw.

"Am I losing my mind?" he murmured softly. "Or is this another trick, another cruel illusion?"

Yet there, set upon a slender stone pedestal beside the basin, burned a torch—unmistakably ancient in design, reminiscent of a lost age he'd only heard whispered in legends. Its small flame danced silently, vivid and ghostly green, waiting patiently to be claimed.

Link's breath stilled, a quiet awe stirring deep within him. This was it—the sacred flame of the trial. But could it truly be so simple? So conveniently placed, alone, undefended?

He stepped slowly into the clearing, peering warily around him for hidden dangers. The mist offered no answers, merely swirling softly, dreamlike and indifferent. None of his fellow initiates appeared to have reached this point. Perhaps they'd fallen behind—or perhaps they'd failed entirely, lost somewhere within that haunted maze of whispers and shadows.

His heart quickened at the thought. "Did I truly earn this?" he whispered aloud, feeling a sharp pang of doubt. "Or was it given freely? And if it was, by whom—and why?"

No reply came from the empty grove. Nothing stirred but the gently drifting fog and the steady flicker of the emerald flame. Link swallowed hard, forcing back his uncertainty. His duty was clear, whatever doubts lingered within. He knelt to gather a sturdy fallen branch, its weight reassuring and solid in his hand.

Approaching cautiously, Link stretched out his arm toward the green flame, feeling its gentle warmth upon his skin. "Either way, it's mine now," he murmured, his voice firming with newfound resolve. "And if it's a trick—well, may the Seven Maidens forgive whoever conjured it."

He thrust the branch boldly into the dancing green fire, watching as the flame spread hungrily along its length, lighting his features with a mystifying glow. With a deep, steadying breath, Link stepped carefully toward the stone basin, ready at last to ignite the oil—to claim whatever destiny awaited him.

For one heartbeat—then two—he lingered uncertainly, staring into the emerald fire. It had a strange warmth to it, not harmful like natural fire. He felt oddly watched, as though unseen eyes lingered at the edge of his senses, curious and ancient, patiently awaiting his choice.

"Well, no use standing around," he murmured softly, reassuring himself against the oppressive quiet. "Trial's end awaits."

With a steady breath, Link thrust the green flame into the bowl of oil to ignite and blaze to lick the twinkling stars above. Immediately, it sprang alive, brilliant and fierce. The flame danced hungrily, casting an ethereal glow across the grove and bathing his face in its strange warmth.

Link staggered backward, nearly dropping the burning branch as emerald fire roared to life, illuminating every shadow around him in vivid relief. He watched, awestruck, as the basin blazed brilliantly, its flames rising high into the night.

Beneath his feet, something stirred. Startled, Link glanced downward and nearly gasped aloud. The circle of stone he walked over now glowed faintly beneath the soles of his boots, etched lines filling with a soft, golden luminescence. A familiar symbol began taking shape in the soil—three perfect triangles joined as one.

"The royal crest?" he whispered, pulse quickening. The sigil of Hyrule, worn by kings and carved upon banners and castles—yet here it lay, hidden away beneath the feet of a common-born cadet. Of the three triangles, only one shone with fierce golden brilliance, casting its amber glow upward into his astonished eyes. The other two remained dark, shadowed and silent, as if withholding secrets yet unknown.

Before Link could understand the riddle further, a sharp, crackling sound drew his attention forward. His gaze snapped upward, breath still caught in his throat, as the dense foliage covering a low hill before him began to writhe and twist strangely. Vines curled and shuddered as though alive, retreating swiftly away from something concealed beneath. Like serpents recoiling from flame, the foliage burst suddenly into green fire, the very flames which danced like jovial maidens above the basin, withering and crackling—yet somehow, impossibly, nothing else in the ancient woods burned. Only the vines perished, curling like brittle paper into ash that floated softly away into the night breeze.

Link's eyes widened, heart racing as the final embers scattered, revealing what lay beneath. No simple hillside rose before him, but instead a magnificent entrance carved from age-old stone, decorated with intricate, faded reliefs of a forgotten era. Moss-covered pillars flanked the entryway, and stairs descended gently downward into darkness—into what appeared to be a temple or sanctuary hidden long ago beneath forest and time alike.

He took a cautious step forward, wonder and apprehension mingling within him. This path, uncovered at the forest's very edge, felt as ancient as the earth itself—forgotten even by Hyrule's long and storied history.

"And now," he said softly, more to steady himself than anything else, "what secrets lie below?"

Link breathed deeply, steadying his trembling fingers as he stared into the shadowed passage, preparing himself for whatever truths—or dangers—waited silently below. I do hope Sven and the others are alright, wherever they are.

"Look! There he is!" Zelda gasped suddenly, pointing with a trembling hand toward the cascading waterfall projection. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but charged with relief and astonishment. She moved closer to the shimmering image, her eyes wide, scarcely daring to blink in case the vision vanished again. "Helmsworth—he's alive! It's him, he's wearing my royal sash!"

All at once, every head turned, each gaze transfixed by the startling clarity with which the water displayed the unfolding scene. In perfect detail, Helmsworth stood at the threshold of an ancient stone entrance, its archway wreathed in faded moss and shadow, revealed by an eerie green flame that danced like liquid emerald around him. Beyond, a stairway descended steeply, vanishing into darkness so absolute it seemed tangible.

Meanwhile, Rito were returning from their soaring flights, bringing the retreated back to the sidelines. Zelda pressed her fingertips lightly to her lips, eyes alight with a mixture of awe and fascination. Still watching the waterfall, she pondered aloud. "What is that place? Has anyone seen its like before?"

Purah adjusted her glasses triumphantly, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Oh, Princess, did you really doubt your guardsman? I knew he'd turn up sooner or later—I bet he was merely adding a bit of drama to make a show of it for you. Who knew he had such style, am I right?"

Zelda was too transfixed to reply, mesmerized by what she was witnessing.

Robbie snorted softly beside her, shaking his head. "Drama indeed. But, more importantly—what exactly are we looking at? Some ancient crypt? A forgotten sanctuary of the Sheikah, perhaps?"

Purah elbowed him gently, a gleam of curiosity in her eyes. "Hardly a crypt, Robbie. Observe the markings carefully—those inscriptions along the archway. Clearly Sheikah, but see how elegantly they intertwine? I'd wager it predates the Calamity by centuries, possibly millennia."

Jun stared quietly, swallowing hard. He felt genuine relief despite himself, surprised at how fiercely it flooded him. "Whatever it is," he muttered, trying to mask his emotion behind a casual tone, "it's old, hidden, and probably dangerous. It's a shame I can't be there by his side to help."

Zelda glanced quickly at Jun, offering him a small, grateful smile before returning her attention to the mesmerizing spectacle. "It feels more than just old," she murmured softly. "It feels...sacred. Like he's standing at the brink of history itself."

Commander Athelon suddenly appeared beside them, his quiet, authoritative presence causing them all to startle slightly. His eyes were fixed intently on the vision, his expression grave and knowing. "It's the threshold to the ancient cistern," he said sternly, his voice low but filled with unmistakable certainty. "Or so I've been told."

Purah's brows arched sharply behind her glasses, her curiosity now fully ignited. "The ancient cistern?" she echoed, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Well, that certainly explains the Sheikah craftsmanship—and the elaborate design. Such a sanctum was rumored, of course, but we had no idea it was here, beneath the forest."

Robbie shifted eagerly beside her, eyes widening with enthusiasm. "The cistern was thought to hold waters blessed by the Goddess herself, wasn't it? Could it still be functional after all these centuries?"

"Perhaps," Athelon replied carefully, "though such ancient sites often hold dangers as well as wonders. Whatever he faces inside, it will surely test him in ways no mere training ground could."

Jun tilted his head, eyeing the princess thoughtfully as he spoke. "If it's truly an ancient Sheikah cistern, perhaps there's more hidden within—another slate, or artifacts powerful enough to reshape the balance in Hyrule?"

Athelon's gaze darkened briefly, though his voice remained calm. "Or a guardian more perilous than any of us could guess," he murmured. "My old mentor once spoke of such places—of trials reserved only for the worthy. If this lad has indeed found it and so soon, he's stepped into the heart of Hyrule's forgotten legacy. The first of few who will follow after."

A hush fell briefly among the group, each gazing at the vision before them with renewed awe and apprehension. Purah broke the silence first, placing a comforting hand gently on Zelda's shoulder. "Well, ancient guardian or no, if anyone can handle whatever secrets lie hidden there, it's your man, right?" she reassured with her usual bravado.

"Yeah, he was practically born for this sort of thing," the princess affirmed, daring to hope to believe her own words. The shake in her voice betrayed her though.

The princess then allowed herself a gentle laugh, anxiety slowly melting from her features, replaced with warmth and growing wonder. "Indeed," she agreed softly, though her eyes remained fixed upon the image shimmering through the falling water. "I only wish I could be there myself, seeing it with my own eyes, sharing in whatever truths he's uncovering."

"The cistern is a test of wisdom—filled with riddles, puzzles, and clever traps designed to test the mind rather than brute strength. And since he achieved the first miracle today of commanding the torch, the others will also find its path shortly. He however has an advantage, since the doorway will grant him easier passage. The others will have to make their own way in."

Jun shifted restlessly, glancing briefly toward Athelon as though weighing the commander's words carefully. "These trials," he ventured quietly, "were they always intended to be so dangerous? Or has something changed?"

Athelon's response was cautious, measured. "Such trials always carried risk—though perhaps never so openly. But to answer you plainly, I have no idea. It's been over a century since the Trial of the Flame commenced. There are forces stirring again in this kingdom, forces we have yet to fully grasp. It seems the forest is awakening secrets it had buried for generations, calling forth heroes from shadows and legends alike."

Zelda nodded slowly, her heartbeat calming as she watched the figure in the projection step forward into the shadowed threshold. "Helmsworth will uncover whatever truths lie hidden there," she whispered, eyes shining with anticipation and quiet pride. "He must."

Yet even as she spoke, a chill prickled along the base of her neck, a lingering unease beneath her wonder. For all the excitement and marvel, the image also stirred a strange foreboding deep within her heart—like a gentle voice whispering a warning she couldn't quite understand.

She clasped her hands together tightly, silently willing him onward, silently urging the young warrior she secretly cherished to walk carefully into the mysteries that awaited.

Authors Notes: Yes, I am releasing the chapters in smaller chunks. Testing to see if that works out better for what I've written. I hope this one entertained you and you are eager to see the conclusion. Let me know your thoughts in a comment. Until we meet again soon. Thanks for reading, this work wouldn't be possible if it weren't for you all.

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why we failed pt.25

The Drowning Flame

Link paused at the top of the ancient stairwell, the lingering warmth of daylight at his back as his eyes fixed upon the spiraling depths below. Moss-covered stones slick with moisture shimmered faintly pale green, bathed in the delicate, ethereal radiance descended along walls so intricately carved he caught his breath at their quiet splendor. Instantly he was transported back to boyhood memories of the Zora Domain, where graceful arches and intricate bridges glowed gently with stones that seemed spun from captured moonlight. Hylians often whispered that the Zora artisans wove old enchantments into their architecture—tales Link had once accepted with quiet awe.

Now, gazing at the delicate flora blanketing these intricately carved walls, Link wondered if these strange, lakeweed-like vines drank deeply from the same hidden source of power, absorbing whatever ancient essence had granted those Zora stones their otherworldly luster. A thrill of wonder—and cautious apprehension—quickened his heartbeat as he stepped carefully forward, descending into the shimmering darkness below.

It was like stepping into a dream—a forgotten world, where Sheikah precision merged seamlessly with Zora elegance, their crafts entwined in graceful harmony, patterns of waves and currents interwoven with sharp, ancient lines.

Swallowing thickly, he took his first hesitant step, the sound echoing softly against the damp stone. The air was heavy—warm and dense like breath trapped within a sealed tomb. With each cautious descent, the daylight behind him dimmed further, shadows thickening, enveloping him in darkness as he journeyed deeper into the heart of this hidden sanctum. His fingertips grazed the slick stone walls for balance, the cool touch offering strange comfort against his mounting dread.

"Just breathe," he murmured quietly to himself, forcing air into lungs that tightened with each step downward. "Nothing but old stone and shadows. And puzzles and riddles. Just puzzles and riddles."

Yet even as he spoke, he shivered. Courage was easy enough beneath open skies, on training grounds under watchful eyes. But here—alone, beneath the crushing weight of stone and earth—it felt different. Here, courage was something fragile, delicate as kiln-spun glass and harder to grasp. The slightest misstep could burn or shatter your will.

At last, after what felt like an eternity, the spiraling stairs released him into a vast subterranean chamber. Link's eyes widened as they adjusted to the gloom, taking in the awe-inspiring sight. Only two dim flickering sconces beside the arch lit up his limited view. The chamber was immense, walls soaring upward and vanishing into darkness high above, the carvings becoming increasingly intricate as they ascended, lost in shadow. Before him stood a grand stone archway, imposing and closed, adorned with cryptic markings and symbols etched deeply within its surface. Riddles, he presumed. Tests meant for minds wiser than a mere cadet's.

"The second trial," he whispered to himself, almost reverently. "Wisdom....That would mean, if I remember, this would be the test of Lanayru's domain."

Turning slowly to survey the chamber, his gaze caught upon the pool behind him. It was perfectly round, expansive in its circumference, its dark waters eerily still, yet beckoning. He stepped closer, peering hesitantly over the edge. Hard to tell if it were filled with water or another substance it was so calm. He could only hope. Blackness met him as he stared, deep and endless. He shivered at the thought of what could lie beneath its fathoms —hidden creatures, lost secrets, or a sheer, drowning emptiness he could not imagine.

"No," he breathed softly, shaking his head, taking a deliberate step back from the edge. "Not unless I must."

He turned his attention back to the sealed doorway, heart steadying slightly at the solid, reassuring presence of carved stone. He moved forward, fingers brushing tentatively against the etched surface, tracing shapes he only half-recognized. The Triangles. The sacred crest, the royal sigil of Hyrule. Wisdom, courage, power. They stared back at him, silent yet expectant.

"What do you need?" he whispered softly, almost pleadingly, into the silence. "What must I do to prove myself?"

The stone gave no answer, and for a moment he stood frozen, thoughts racing, breathing carefully measured in the thick, humid stillness of the chamber. Link's pulse quickened with both fear and resolve, understanding at last the weight of this test before him.

It was an enigma of mind rather than strength—a challenge of thought and insight rather than sword and shield. The wisdom of the ancients lay quiet, waiting patiently for his answer.

He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes briefly to steady his nerves, then opened them again, determination rekindled behind the uncertainty. He would find the answers. He had to.

He took a careful step closer, the ancient symbols beckoning, daring him to unravel their mysteries, their meaning patiently awaiting his discovery within the cool, timeless silence of Lanayru's hidden sanctum.

Link's eyes narrowed in intense scrutiny at the towering stone archway, its secrets etched in weathered runes that danced in the faint luminescence of the chamber. He could feel beads of moisture tracing his neck, dripping down beneath his collar; the humid air pressed heavily on his chest, thick with an ancient mustiness that tickled unpleasantly at the back of his throat. Behind him, the silent liquid of the pool lay waiting, its placid surface mocking him with hidden depths and unseen perils.

His fingers traced the outlines of the carved runes, their shapes cryptic, almost taunting. He attempted to decipher the words but he had no idea how to read these characters let alone say them aloud. He squinted at them, struggling in vain to make sense of the intricate patterns etched into the ancient stone. The script mocked him silently, an indecipherable tongue from a bygone era. None of the characters he recognized, and he couldn't even be sure if they were Zora or Sheikah in origin. At least not what he had known of the day.

Frustrated, Link stepped back, releasing a weary sigh that echoed softly around him. How am I supposed to solve a riddle I can't even read?

It was then, in the faint flickering glow of the nearby sconces, he noticed something unusual jutting from the far off wall—a worn, wooden tablet dangled by a chain roughly nailed into the ancient stone, held firmly by a large, heavy single rusted spike that reminded him of barge nails that would fasten a mast to a ship. Intrigued, he moved closer, running his fingers carefully over the splintered edges.

To his relief, an inscription had been scratched into the wood and not written in the impossible script upon the door, but instead clearly etched in familiar Hylian, faded yet still legible. Link thanked whoever dared this daunting ask from a century ago under his breath and read what they left. Whispering the words softly under his breath, frustration grew with each quiet syllable:

"Beneath mirrored surface lies the key,
To unlock wisdom, breathe not free.
In silence deep, where courage sleeps,
Only with Queen's gift shall truth ye keep."

"Mirrored surface..." Link echoed irritably, his voice strained and tight. He glanced back at the black, mirror-like liquid behind him, a shiver tracing down his spine. "Of course it means that blasted pool. But breathe not free? How in Goddesses name am I supposed to—"

A spark of irritation ignited within him, smoldering swiftly into anger at the sheer absurdity of it all. Without thinking, his fist struck out, hitting the stone wall with more force than intended. Pain burst sharply through his knuckles, drawing a ragged hiss from his lips as he snatched his hand back, now bloodied from the rough-hewn stone.

"Seven wenches take them!" He cursed. The pain now throbbing in his hand. Regret pitted in his belly as soon as he said those words for Link weren't one to be crass. Let alone mock the faith or the sacred maidens of legend. Instead, he blamed himself.

"Fool," he spat bitterly, clutching his injured hand to his chest, frustration simmering beneath his heated skin. "Of all the stupid—"

Yet, as his breath slowed, the chamber around him began whispering softly once more, tiny echoes drifting around the empty space like distant, secretive laughter. The dripping water around that leaked in tiny gentle streams from the walls sounded clearer now, persistent, rhythmic, gently trickling from unseen cracks above. The scent of moss and minerals saturated the humid air, thick enough he nearly tasted salt and iron upon his tongue. It was oppressive, maddening—but also strangely grounding.

He inhaled deeply, forcing himself into stillness, allowing frustration to ebb like a receding tide. Again he repeated the riddle, slowly, carefully, each word deliberate upon his lips:

"Beneath mirrored surface lies the key...
Breathe not free..."

His eyes flickered toward the sconces on either side of the door—unlit, carved intricately into stylized waves, each bearing a symbol of Lanayru. Symbols of water. Breath. Wisdom.

Link's heart stilled suddenly, realization dawning sharp and clear. "Breathe not free..." he murmured again, eyes widening with newfound clarity. "I must enter the water—to dive beneath. That's where the key lies hidden."

He turned slowly, heart thumping now with both fear and exhilaration as he faced the dark, tranquil pool once more. He knew what was needed, but unease clenched at his gut, chilling him despite the humid warmth. Without something to aid him, his lungs would burn, his limbs would falter, and the darkness could swallow him whole.

Yet, the riddle was clear: the solution lay beneath. Perhaps hidden below was a path, an air pocket, some clever Sheikah device—there had to be something, some ancient ingenuity waiting patiently beneath the pool's mirrored surface. He felt a tug of renewed courage, tentative but persistent, steadying him.

"Alright," Link whispered softly, stepping resolutely toward the edge. He knelt, dipping his injured hand into the cool water to test it out, feeling its soothing chill dull the sting of his frustration. "Well, at least I know it isn't something ill I must fret against. It's water."

Link sighed and rubbed the back of his neck hoping for another solution which wouldn't come. "No turning back now."

With a deep and deliberate breath, he stared downward into the darkness, heart pulsing steady within his chest, senses sharpened like a castle forged blade, ready for whatever lay beneath.

"Here goes," he swallowed, gathering his courage, and with one final calming inhale, plunged headlong into Lanayru's silent embrace in a magnificent dive that would impress even Mipha. Only a few moments passed.

It didn't take long for him to splash back out of the water, winded and defeated. "What in Demise's hell are they playing at?" he sputtered, gripping the edge of the basin with trembling hands. He hauled himself out, soaked to the bone and coughing bitterly. "No Hylian can swim that. Maybe if there was a way to see." I'm lucky to have made it back to the pool's edge at all in that darkness.

Link leaned back against the damp stone, chest heaving, and glanced around the chamber once more in frustration. The sconces lining the walls flickered gently, casting wavering amber shadows that danced along the intricate carvings, mocking his defeat. Think, Link—there must be something here that could help.

His eyes scanned the cavernous room, searching desperately for something he might have missed. A glint of metal caught his attention near one of the far corners, partially obscured by moss and lakeweed that had climbed the walls. Curious, he rose to his feet, wet boots squelching with each step as he approached the shimmering reflection.

Brushing aside the thick tangle of vines, he revealed a worn stone pedestal, carved with delicate etchings that blended Sheikah craftsmanship with distinctively Zora embellishments—smooth curves reminiscent of ocean waves and fins. Resting atop the pedestal, draped in layers of dust and webs, lay a circlet intricately forged from shining silver and polished sapphire. Even beneath centuries of neglect, its vibrant blue stones glittered softly, reflecting the pale torchlight.

It was then he noticed the most fascinating thing about the jewelry of all. Are these...scales? But, from what? He looked at them more closely and the realization hit him like a charging Lynel. Not that Link ever encountered a Lynel before, nor has anyone in modern memory, but he could imagine the grim details well of what that would feel like if they did exist if the tales of the ages were true. Not what these belong to, but who did these belong to?

Carefully, Link lifted it, feeling its cool touch against his fingertips, and something else—a faint pulse, rhythmic like the calm waves of a hidden lagoon, warm and reassuring. Beneath where the circlet had rested, another wooden tablet, smaller and more worn than the last, lay hidden in the shadows. He knelt, heart racing, and carefully brushed away the layers of grime and mildew.

In familiar Hylian script, the tablet read:

"Within the Queen's breath, clear sight awakes—
Beneath the waves, the circlet takes.
Hold fast your courage, trust in the deep,
Through sapphire eyes, the path you'll keep."

This is madness, Link thought. How can a piece of jewelry help him? For what felt like hours though maybe just a few minutes he paced back and forth what he should do. Carefully, reverently, he placed the circlet upon his brow. Its gemstones tingled softly against his skin and the scales began to shimmer and glow, sending a whisper of soothing energy through him. Blinking, he felt his vision sharpen subtly, as if the shadows receded slightly from the corners of his sight.

"Thanks whoever you are, I owe you one." he murmured softly, breathing deep with newfound determination. Approaching the pool once more, he gazed confidently into its depths. With sapphire eyes guiding him, perhaps the impossible might become possible after all.

Taking one final breath, he dove again into the still waters, this time certain he would find his way.

The sapphire circlet hummed softly against Link's forehead, a subtle warmth spreading through his veins. As he dove deeper into the waters, he instinctively held his breath, until, after a tense moment, he realized the expected ache in his chest did not come. Carefully, he parted his lips, and cool water filled his mouth—but he didn't choke. He breathed. It was like breathing mist, airy yet impossibly dense. His eyes widened with relief and awe. The circlet offered him the precious gift of the Queen's breath itself.

Thank you. Thank you, whoever left this here, he thought, grateful beyond measure as he descended deeper into the pool, the faint illumination of the sapphire stones guiding his path though still very hard to see.

After several quiet strokes downward, the dim light from above faded, swallowed by the darkness below. His pulse quickened, yet the reassuring rhythm of the circlet steadied his nerves. The world beneath felt like a dreamscape, silent and calm—save for the muffled echoes of distant water currents whispering ancient secrets. The water felt so empty, eerie. No fish nor any sign of life lingered down in these depths, not even flora of any kind.

At last, his feet touched smooth stone once again down in the depths. The sapphire light faintly illuminated a large wall ahead, carved from obsidian-black stone, slick with algae. Two tunnels yawned open side by side, their entrances framed by carvings he could barely discern in the murky shadows. Carefully, Link drifted forward to examine them more closely.

The left tunnel's entrance bore the carving of an elegant bird in flight, its wings gracefully outstretched beneath rays of what seemed to be sunlight. It appeared hopeful, serene, inviting even. The right tunnel, however, held a starkly different symbol: a serpent coiled around itself, poised as if to strike, its fangs bared menacingly. At first glance, the choice seemed straightforward—hopeful flight versus dangerous coils.

But something unsettled him. This is a trial of wisdom, he reminded himself silently. Would it really be so obvious? Suspicion gnawed at the edge of his mind, and he forced himself to think.

He floated gently between both pathways, heart gently thudding as he scrutinized each carving. Think carefully, Link. Wisdom chooses not by appearance alone. What lies beneath the surface?

He traced the bird carving lightly with his fingertips. It seemed welcoming, but the rays around it curved strangely, as if it were floundering in a spiraling whirlpool. It was then he realized it was no bird at all, but a flying fish. He once heard tale from sailors who voyaged all the way from Mirkwaster Bay calling such creatures Falsefins; and how they have been known to lure fishermen to watery graves once they transformed to their true nature. Even with the recollection gnawing at the back of his mind, the face of the fish looked promising, offering back only an innocent look; however, perhaps too promising, almost unnatural in its depiction. He stared harder. Are they spirals of water or the rays of sunlight? So hard to tell, the stone had aged immensely since its carving and the lines were faded.

He pulled away sharply, wary now, turning his focus toward the serpent carving. Fierce and menacing as it appeared, something else caught his eye: beneath the snake's coiled body rested faintly etched triangles, their outlines obscured by algae and grime. He nearly missed them entirely, had he not swept his palm firmly across the stone, uncovering their gleaming shape. The symbol of the royal family—the same as before, in the chamber above.

He hesitated, confusion twisting through his chest. Why would the royal symbol be beneath the serpent? It seemed wrong somehow, deliberately misleading. But wisdom often hides beneath fear, he realized. True understanding sometimes lay hidden behind what frightened or challenged him. Perhaps the serpent was a guardian, a protector rather than a threat.

With a final surge of determination, Link pushed aside his lingering doubts. Wisdom guides those who see beyond the surface. He moved decisively toward the serpent-marked entrance.

Praying he had chosen correctly, Link entered the darkened tunnel, his heart resolute, eyes wide, the sapphire circlet guiding his path deeper into the unknown.

He swam steadily onward, the tunnel winding narrowly around him until at last, after what felt like a breathless hour, a gleam of soft, promising light appeared ahead.

An exit! Oh Goddess, let it be an exit, he thought fervently, hope quickening his pace. And sure enough it was. The initiate gone Knight was eager to find himself an exit to the pool. He surged upward, breaking the surface with a gasp, water streaming from his hair and lashes as his hands found purchase on slick, algae-veined stone.

He hauled himself up and over the edge, limbs trembling with effort, chest heaving in the humid stillness of the chamber. As if summoned for this one purpose and no more, the sapphire circlet atop his brow shimmered briefly—and then if possessed by an unknown power vanished in a blink of cool light, leaving his damp hair tousled and bare beneath it.

"Wait, don't go!" he shouted after it, breathless and fumbling at his crown as if he could will it back into existence. But it was gone. His shout echoed uselessly off the high ceiling above.

"I guess... it has to be that way," he muttered to himself, settling back onto his elbows with a resigned sigh. "If the others are going to have a chance to make it this way, then they'll need it."

A beat passed. His gaze drifted upward, toward the mist-laced stone above. "I sure hope they're alright."

But rest was fleeting. Another chamber lay ahead—this one cavernous, silent but for the rhythmic drip of unseen water and the gentle hum of currents curling unseen beneath the surface.

He rose slowly, cautious eyes adjusting to the strange new light. The air here was thick with moisture, heavy and stale, tinged faintly with minerals and the mossy tang of ancient life. Pale fungi bloomed from cracks in the walls like ghostly lanterns, casting a blue-white shimmer over the chamber's vast, mirrored pool at the center.

The pool was knee-high and at each corner loomed four immense stone heads, each carved in the likeness of one of Hyrule's noble races. Their mouths gaped open, not in menace, but in purpose—expelling steady waterfalls into the water that stirred the surface with invisible force.

Link stepped forward, boots echoing softly across the damp stone floor until he reached the edge of the water again. There, bobbing lightly in the center of the pool, was a floating tablet—weathered but legible.

He waded in and knelt, squinting to read it.

"From sky to sand,
From stone to wave,
To follow their paths,
One must be brave."

His brows furrowed. "Sky... sand... stone... wave," he repeated under his breath, eyes shifting from the tablet to the statues beyond. His gaze tracked their features: Rito, Gerudo, Goron, Zora.

"That's got to be it," he said, slowly rising. "The order. But what happens if I choose wrong?" He glanced toward the swirling eddies, brow furrowing. "Torn to shreds, probably. That'd be fun."

He exhaled through his nose, trying to center himself. "Think, Link. Sky is Rito. Sand is Gerudo. Stone... Goron. And wave—Zora."

He frowned deeper. "But that feels too easy."

The tablet's last line echoed back in his head. To follow their paths... one must be brave.

It wasn't just about naming them—it was about trusting the current. The statues weren't just decoration—they guided the way. But only in the right order. He would have to swim perhaps, against and through each current in sequence, letting them pull him where they willed.

"And if I mess up," he muttered, "I guess I'll find out how much pressure it takes to snap a rib."

He moved through the water, his reflection fractured by the push and pull of the statue-born tides. Behind him, the stillness of the ancient cavern loomed like a held breath.

No time to hesitate. He inhaled once more, steady and slow, and stomped and splashed into the first current—the windlike rush that issued from the mouth of the Rito.

The water here barely reached his knees, lapping gently around a round stone platform just beneath the surface. How was he to swim if the level was so low? At first, he mistook it for simple flooring—until the unnatural symmetry of its design gave him pause.

It was too perfect. Too centered. Too deliberate.

Kneeling, he pressed his palm to its face. The faintest vibration pulsed beneath his fingertips, like something slumbering just beneath. A mechanism he spied at the center... maybe even a gate. A drain.

His eyes flicked upward toward the statues.

"Of course," he muttered. "It's not just the current. It's direction."

Each of the four towering heads gazed blankly forward, unmoved for untold centuries. Their placement—one at each corner of the fountain-like pool—was no accident. They could turn.

He stepped out of the water and toward the Rito first, hands gripping its rough stone cheek as he put his weight into the task. It resisted at first—grinding in protest—but then slowly, groaning, it shifted beneath his strength. Stone scraped against stone as he turned the avian visage to face the Gerudo's diagonally across the way, setting one pair of eyes upon the other across the water.

"Sky to sand," he said under his breath. "Now..."

He waded to the opposite end, reaching the massive brow of the Goron statue and hopped out. This one was heavier, more stubborn—his shoulder twinged as he forced the head to rotate, the grinding echo ringing out like thunder. He twisted it until the eyes of stone locked onto the Zora's flowing silhouette.

"Stone to wave," he finished, voice barely a whisper. For a moment, the chamber held its breath. Then the platform at the center gave a quiet, resonant click.

Link spun around just in time to see the smooth stone spiral open like a flower, segment by segment, revealing a wide, darkened shaft beneath—its throat glistening with slow, swirling water, now draining fast. The pool's depth dwindled rapidly as water was pulled down into the hidden depths.

"So it is a drain," he murmured, edging closer to peer into the shaft. A cool wind rose from the tunnel below, breathing against his damp skin like a whisper from the deep.

It looked bottomless. Of course it would be.

He stood at the edge. The water pouring from each effigy draining faster than it could replenish the pool down the drain. Below, the tunnel narrowed into darkness. No ladder. No ledge. No ropes. Just a hole in the world, yawning wide and waiting.

"To follow their paths... one must be brave," he repeated, jaw tightening.

His fingers flexed once. Twice.

Then—he leapt.

The rush was immediate. Air tore past him, water still clinging to his frame as he plunged through the vertical shaft, the wind howling louder than any scream he could muster. For a breathless moment, he was weightless—suspended in that sacred space between decision and consequence.

Then came the impact.

A thunderous splash shattered the silence as he crashed into deep water below, limbs flailing through the heavy cold. The landing knocked the breath from his lungs—but didn't break him.

He surfaced coughing, wide-eyed and gasping. He was alive. Barely, or so he thought judging by the hard crash.

And somehow, through the stinging in his chest and the ache in his shoulders, he began to smile that he at least survived.

His hopes of being done were dashed once he got view of the room surrounding him now. Please, let that be the end of it, he thought, hoping. But, it wasn't. Again, he was greeted to another chamber. "Is there no end to this labyrinth," he cursed under his breath.

Water clung to his tunic and hair as he pulled himself from the shallow pool, boots slapping against slick stone with every step. The air in the new chamber was warmer—thick with mist and a strange mineral tang that stung faintly at the back of his throat. Link straightened slowly, blinking the water from his lashes, then froze.

Before him stretched a cavernous hall he had to walk, vast and echoing, roof lost to shadow high above. At its end churned three perfectly round whirlpools pitted at the end of what appeared to be a knee-high fountain, each set into its own recessed basin of pale stone. The water spun lazily but deep, their vortexes as hypnotic as they were foreboding. Each gave off a low hum, the sound of unseen currents folding into themselves, dark mouths whispering secrets.

Atop a stone pedestal before each pool, a plaque awaited. Link moved forward, squinting at the faded inscriptions, and read them aloud, one by one. Thank the goddess who ever ventured here before deciphered the glyphs or he would have been Dodongo meat in the first room.

Whirlpool One: "The Flame you desire lies through here."
Whirlpool Two: "The Flame you need does not lie through here."
Whirlpool Three: "The Flame you want does not lie through Whirlpool One."

His brows pinched together. A riddle. Of course it's a riddle. I hate riddles.

"Only one of these can be true," he muttered, backing up to see them all at once, like a general eyeing a battlefield.

If the first is true—the Flame lies through here—then the second and third would both be false. But if the third is false, then the Flame does lie through Whirlpool One, which would make it true again…

He gritted his teeth. "No… that can't be right."

He stalked back to the second whirlpool, staring down into its quiet spiral. There was something off about its pedestal. Not the wording—but the way the stone had been chiseled. Too clean. Too sharp around the edges. The lettering too recent.

He knelt, running his fingers along the sides, feeling the seam.

"Someone... covered it?" he breathed.

With effort, he wedged his knife's edge beneath the plaque and pried it loose. A sharp crack rang out, stone flaking as the false slab broke free and tumbled into the water with a plunk.

Beneath it, another plaque remained. Older. Dusty. Real. The script etched there was weathered but plain.

"The Flame that you require lies here."

No riddles. No misdirection. This had to be it.

Link exhaled, a dry laugh escaping his lips. "A lie to hide the truth," he murmured. "Or a truth wrapped in lies." He rose slowly, brushing grit from his palms. "Well played."

With one final glance toward the other whirlpools—still whirling, still whispering half-truths—Link stood at the edge of the second pool.

He didn't hesitate.

"Wisdom's not always about solving the riddle," he whispered, "sometimes it's knowing when not to trust the game."

And with that, he dove.

The current seized him like a beast from the deep, hurtling him through a narrow unseen tunnel with the force of a raging river. Link twisted and turned, barely able to control his limbs as the water howled past his ears. The pressure pounded against his chest, and for a moment, the darkness was so complete he wondered if he'd been swallowed whole.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the torrent released him.

He burst from the water with a splash and a gasp, arms flailing as he found himself spat unceremoniously into a familiar pool. Coughing, sputtering, he dragged himself onto the slick edge, muscles aching, lungs desperate to claim air.

His palms hit stone, and he froze. He knew this place.

Head still spinning, he pushed himself upright, heart hammering as he turned in a slow, soaking circle. The tall spiraling stairwell loomed above him, winding like a shell to the surface light beyond. The moss-covered walls shimmered faintly as they had before—but now, the room breathed differently, as if something slumbering had stirred awake.

"No," he muttered, disbelief cutting through the daze. "No, this is where I started…"

His heart sank. The trial had spat him out like a rejected offering. Had he chosen wrong after all? Had it been a trick?

But then his gaze landed on it. The grand archway.

Where once there had been silence, now the door whispered with life.

Faint threads of cerulean light traced the once-dark engravings—lines he had studied, cursed, bled against. The ancient glyphs glowed like starlight now, coalescing at the center into a symbol he recognized: the royal crest, radiant and complete.

And the door—what had once been a sealed monolith—now stood slightly ajar, parted just enough to let the soft breath of air curl from its depths.

He blinked. Once. And then again with a rub for good measure.

Then the realization crashed into him like thunder after a long-held silence. He had done it.

A breathless laugh escaped him, somewhere between triumph and sheer relief. Bruised, soaked to the bone, and half convinced he'd drowned twice over, Link still found his legs under him. He pressed a hand to the side of the stone frame, grounding himself, letting the cool air from beyond whisper against his face.

"Guess that was the voyage after all," he murmured with a crooked smile. There you go Sven and Orin, let's hope this archway stays open for you. And with that Link moved a stone that was in the room to serve as a doorstop to keep the door wedged open. It may have been a slight against the rules, but in the end did it really matter? What mattered is his friends surviving the trials and making it to become guardsman.

Without another word, he stepped through the threshold, to grasp whatever treasure waited beyond.

Authors Note: I hope you like this one. I wanted to incorporate more classical Zelda elements. That being said, this one took me a long time to write since I'm not that great with concocting game mechanics or puzzles in scenes so I hope it made sense and entertained you. We shall see more of what is to come in the next one and Zelda's POV. Let me know your thoughts, do you like this sort of stuff or should I stick with what I have done thus far? Until next time, stay well wherever you are in Hyrule.

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why we failed pt. 26

Bells and Masks

Zelda stood quietly, eyes transfixed by the shimmering cascade of images still projected vividly upon the waterfall's veil. She clutched her fingers tight, heart caught in a fragile rhythm of wonder and dread, barely noticing the murmurs of astonishment echoing softly from those gathered nearby.

"Here they come!" shouted the herald, for all to bear witness to the heavens above.

A sudden fluttering stirred above, and Zelda's focus turned swiftly, startled from her reverie. Through the dying twilight, Revali and his Rito scouts returned like pale ghosts from the skies. They swooped gracefully onto the arena grounds, wings whispering softly in the gathering dusk, their precious cargo clutched carefully within taloned grasp. Zelda's breath tightened sharply at the sight.

The cadets the Rito deposited onto the grass were no longer proud and eager boys, but frightened, wounded youths—faces pale beneath layers of dirt and blood, some struggling to hold back tears, others unable to hide their terror and pain. Some could barely stand, collapsing onto the field, gasping or clutching at wounds. Zelda's heart clenched painfully at the sight. Clerics and healers equipped with medicinal supplies rushed to their landing.

She had known the trials would test them—had heard the tales countless times—but to witness their suffering firsthand was another matter entirely. Guilt gnawed at her chest, heavy and bitter. Had she unknowingly urged them toward this fate with her presence, her expectations? What sort of test demanded this much sacrifice? She would never be able to understand the justification of her ancestors for such a test as this.

Then came the chilling realization, piercing sharply into her thoughts: Helmsworth was nowhere among those brought safely back. A shiver prickled along her spine, a cold whisper of fear gripping tightly. The projection no longer showed his form or hinted at his whereabouts, choosing instead to reveal only fleeting glimpses of other cadets still wandering in the misty gloom. The last time they saw him he disappeared into a grove which faced a buried, forgotten monument of some kind that she had no memory of.

Her silence, more telling than words could ever be, drew Jun's watchful eye. He moved quietly to her side, his voice gentle yet firm. "Don't worry, he's strong, Princess. I've seen Helmsworth fight—he's far tougher than half these soft-handed lords' sons. If anyone can beat these silly trials, it's him."

She turned slowly, her gaze meeting his. The reassurance in Jun's expression was genuine, warm, but even so, it did little to ease the quiet storm within her. Before she could muster words to reply, Purah cut in, voice tart with an attempt at levity.

"Indeed, the little squire is right. Your Helmsworth is made of sterner stuff it would seem. Seeing is he made it to where none of the others have, yet. If I were you, Princess, I wouldn't fret. Besides, if he disappoints, you can always pick another champion from the pack. Goddess knows there's a never-ending line of eager knights willing to impress you. At least, that's what mine eyes have seen."

Zelda arched an eyebrow, suppressing the blush threatening to creep onto her cheeks. "Oh? And should I trust your expert opinion on knights, Purah?"

Purah grinned impishly, adjusting her glasses with exaggerated dignity. "Absolutely, Your Highness. My taste in men is legendary, after all. Ask anyone."

Zelda then hid a smile from her, raised her eyebrows and whispered to herself. "I'll be sure to ask Robbie then."

"What was that?" Purah blinked, unable to hear; yet had really didn't want to hear because she had a sneaking suspicion of what sort of jest her friend was playing at.

"Oh, uh, nothing," Zelda said back.

Jun snorted, hearing Zelda whereas Purah couldn't, his mouth curving into a reluctant smirk as the playful banter briefly eased their collective tension. Zelda's faint smile lingered, though worry still clung stubbornly to her gaze as she turned her attention back toward the returning cadets.

Yet, despite their attempts to comfort her, Zelda's thoughts quickly drifted back to the wounded cadets. They sat or lay scattered across the grass, attended hastily by healers and helping boys alike. She studied their faces from afar, some twisted in pain, others masked by empty stares or quiet whimpers.

If the forest had dealt such ruin to these brave youths, what cruel hand might it yet hold poised above Helmsworth? The question haunted her, gnawed at her resolve, and cast long, silent shadows across her heart.

Her gaze flickered again toward the darkened woods, silently praying for any sign, any whisper of hope that the forest's cruel embrace had not claimed the one cadet whose fate she cared for most. She hardly realized her own hands now clasped together against her chest.

"There you are my Princess," called out a familiar voice, breaking her steadfast vigil. Zelda and the others turned. It was the smooth walking seneschal. "Your father beckons you back to the royal box, my dear, sweet princess," the silk-tongued man said, appearing as if he conjured beside her.

Zelda, not one to dispute the wishes of her father, answered his message with a subtle nod. She then spun on her heels and faced Athelon. The stone-hard veteran still stood by, stoic and stalwart as ever. "Will you take care of these men?"

"Without a doubt, your highness. Do not trouble yourself over this lot, they are in for a bit of healing to be sure, but they are in good hands and will survive." Athelon assured her. "It's the others who still trespass into the abyss we must turn our thoughts to now."

Zelda gave him a knowing look that she would be doing just that and motioned the others to follow her back up the wooden steps that led to their grand seating area. They would still be able to view the fountain and its cerulean waterfall of cascading images from where they sat; for it was very large and clear to see. However, it was the company Zelda dreaded. He would be there.

Zelda reluctantly made her way back into the royal box, the heavy velvet drapes whispering closed behind her. Her father, King Rhoam, offered a brief nod—stern, but tinged with warmth—before resuming his conversation with the stoic, ever-watchful Danarus Draene. She noticed he was also in the quiet company of foreigners as well; emissaries and dignitaries from the lesser kingdoms no doubt. Even one of the forty princes of Corredi would be in attendance. Or, was it just nine princes? Well, she couldn't be sure to remember her lessons; but it was their custom that their lands were governed by ordained princes than a solitary proper king. Each equal in authority.

A recognizable tall, gerudo gave Zelda a smirk. "It appears our Princess has decided to grace us again, about time. I was beginning to bore without you here," said Urbosa in that rich, teasing voices she had, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Tell me, did that young, squire friend of yours manage to fetch those masks of yours?"

"Well, he hasn't been able to fetch them; he's been with me—" The princess caught herself mid-speech. Perplexed, Zelda glanced about quickly, noting Jun's absence with mild concern. To her bewilderment, the lad had disappeared. She could have sworn he was trailing right beside her. Yet, he seemed to vanish as if he was just a figment of her imagination.

"Gone again, I see," Purah added. "That boy steals away like a thief in the night. You sure he isn't part Sheikah?"

The princess didn't hear her question, still amazed at his sudden absence. Urbosa then took that as her cue to assure her and leaned over to place her hands on her shoulders to help her find her seat. "I'm sure he realized his tardiness in offering the masks and went to gather them for the evening celebrations. He probably got lost in all the excitement as of late."

Zelda blinked. "Yeah, he must have," she said, almost trying to convince herself. "I believe that may be so," she murmured absently, gaze drifting toward the distant waterfall of moving pictures of the trials. "At least, I hope he did."

Beside her, Lady Anjuel leaned forward eagerly, eyes radiant with quiet excitement. "Oh, Princess, can you believe it? The High Priest himself will be blessing my union with Kafei after the final trial. Mother nearly fainted when she heard he would be doing the honors himself—can you imagine, me being sanctified by the High Priest of all the land? Is there no higher blessing than that?"

Zelda smiled for her but didn't want to spoil the joy sprawled on the girl's face. If only she knew what sort of priest he was, she thought.

It was the brightness in Anjuel's voice that unsettled her most—like a pebble dropped into a still pool, sending ripples of unease through waters she'd tried hard to keep calm. Marriage. Once upon a time, that word had stirred something gentle in her chest—soft and golden, like a bird alighting on the edge of a windowpane, wings twitching with the hope of soaring blissful skies; never to look back with reckless abandon full of love to fill a lifetime.

As a girl, she often would fantasize dreamily of it—childish, yes, but sweet all the same. She would imagine the ceremony in vivid detail: where it might take place, the faces in the crowd, the shape and shimmer of her gown. The happiness bright in the smiles of her Father and all her friends. And above all else—the man who would take her hand beneath the gaze of Hylia and men. Not just a name spoken for politics' sake, but someone chosen by her. Someone who saw her and not for duty's sake.

Now the word alone conjured visions she'd sooner avoid at all costs—Arasmus smiling possessively, the High Priest's hollow blessings, her own life bound neatly within the confines of duty. To make matters worse, hers would come sooner than later. Zelda's belly twisted at the thought. How different it would be if she, too, could choose freely, unshackled from expectations and obligations, able to follow the quiet longing of her heart instead of the crown's stern decree.

Anjuel's brow knitted slightly in gentle concern, pulling Zelda from her quiet dread. "Princess? Is everything all right?"

Flustered, Zelda forced herself back into the moment, warmth rising swiftly into her cheeks. She shook her head lightly, banishing sadder thoughts behind a well-practiced mask. "Yes, yes—of course! Forgive me, Anjuel. A mix of worry of the final trial and my mind drifting to and fro, just thinking how wonderful it must feel to marry. The big night has finally come!" She gently squeezed her friend's hand, sincerity genuine even if tinged by melancholy. The princess had to find her cheerful voice now, everyone was watching. "Truly, you and Kafei deserve every happiness."

Anjuel smiled shyly, reassured, and Zelda inwardly chastised herself. Careful now. She'd grown careless, her expressions far too easily read. Her heart's quiet rebellions needed better guarding, especially among so many prying eyes.

With practiced ease, Zelda turned smoothly to her uncle, burying her worries beneath a veneer of curiosity. "Speaking of the final trial, does anybody know what is to come?" she began, her voice deliberately composed, "what precisely awaits the cadets?"

Prince Arcturus chuckled softly, folding his hands thoughtfully on his lap. His voice was calm yet authoritative, effortlessly gathering everyone's attention. "That I can answer for you, my dear niece, that commander Athelon was kind enough to share some intriguing insights when I spoke to him earlier in the day. From what he knows, this trial is named 'The Crucible of Inferno.'"

Purah leaned forward, eyes glittering behind her spectacles. "Sounds appropriately ominous," she quipped dryly. "Let me guess—fire, blades, and more ancient mischief cleverly devised from my ancestors?"

Arcturus inclined his head slightly, smiling faintly. "Not quite, Lady Purah. From what I understand is that these devices are made from the ingenuity of ancient Hylians, though aided by your people of old. The contestants will indeed face creatures conjured through ancient magic and Sheikah technology to be sure—beasts long absent from our world, resurrected from legends; or so I have been told to watch out for. I must say, I am excited if even part of what that old goat says comes true."

Lord Danarus scoffed dismissively, his cold gaze sweeping contemptuously across the assembled nobles. The older lord rarely spoke but when he did, he commanded the attention of the room. He spoke very low, but a man like him never needed to shout to be heard. "Smoke and mirrors, surely. Clever illusions to dazzle the easily impressed."

There was a pause at his insulation. To dispel any tension in the air, Daruk's hearty laugh boomed across the box, drawing startled glances and quiet chuckles. "Illusions or no, Chancellor, it's bound to be one fine spectacle! My wager's on those who keep cool heads. Lynels from what we Goron have been told have a habit of sorting illusions from reality quickly; if you get my meaning."

Danarus' eyebrows quietly scoffed at the Goron but Prince Arcturus also added his two rupees to lighten the mood. "That being said, I'm sure it will be a good show; and if it's not we have mummers, tumblers and fire spitters to fill in the rest this evening. Goddess knows I'm told we spent enough of the crowns treasury to afford it."

"Lynels?" Zelda echoed, astonishment widening her eyes. She still wanted to hear more what Daruk meant. "Truly? Here today? But those beasts—"

"—Have not been seen in many, many centuries, aye. Not since dark forces stirred from the Savage Lands beyond the Forbidden Wastes to the far reaches of the northeast," Daruk continued with knowing cheer in his voice, excited for the spectacle. "The Sheikah have always been clever, though. Who's to say what secrets they've kept buried beneath our noses?"

Prince Arcturus twisted his golden mustachio with an added smirk. "From what I hear they are fierce as demons."

"They are demons!" Daruk joined with a laugh. "Tougher than rocks and spit fire too some legends say."

Zelda's face flickered with worry for her hopeful, Helmsworth. He would be facing against harder things than she imagined if what they told was certain.

As if he could read her like a book, Arasmus, silent until now, leaned toward Zelda with a smooth, sardonic smirk, his voice tinged with mock reassurance. "Surely, Princess, your favorite initiate is resourceful enough. Helmsworth seems to have luck on his side, if little else."

Zelda met his gaze evenly, hiding her rising irritation beneath practiced serenity. "He has far more than luck," she replied firmly, her voice tempered steel beneath silk. "I trust him."

Mipha, gentle as ever, placed a delicate hand upon Zelda's wrist, offering quiet reassurance. "Your trust is well placed, Princess. Courage often accompanies wisdom. And from what I have seen in the waves, he has shown to be both wise and brave to have found the Ancient Cistern so quickly."

"Yes, wisdom and courage," Arasmus drawled lazily, eyes glittering with thinly veiled disdain. "But how will they fare against raw, unbridled power? Cleverness and skill mean little when staring down a Lynel, illusion or no."

Arcturus cleared his throat pointedly, reclaiming the conversation smoothly. "Yet, even power alone will not suffice. This trial demands cunning. The fledglings must seize strategic outposts scattered throughout the arena, halting the summoning of foes. Only by strategy, strength, and leadership can they approach the central beast—at its center, a Lynel guarding the Flame of Power. They must work together if they are to succeed. Each must abandon their own pride and glory and should seize the prize as one."

Lord Arasmus chortled, "But there can only be one champion I heard?"

"Tis true," Zelda's uncle sighed. "You know the nature of young men well. They are more like to each try and win the honor and glory for themselves. Though that road to victory will be much harder. I just hope the man who does is deserving."

King Rhoam nodded gravely, his voice resonating with quiet authority. "Indeed, the victor shall prove mastery over both battlefield tactics and strength. Only then may he rightfully claim the Flame."

Urbosa questioned. "And what of the others? The other lads who don't claim the flame, yet survive to fight another day by trial's end?"

Danarus' quiet, cold voice spoke across the tables again, everyone hushing to hear what he had to say. "Then they take their vows and become guardsman," he said pointedly. "Albeit only one will be adorned the cloak of champion and the honor to serve in the princess guard with high accalades. There is also a prize in store for the lucky victor too if that isn't enough, to be gifted by the princess herself as well."

Purah ribbed Zelda in a hushed voice as Danarus droned on with the duller details. "You hear that? A prize in store for him? Any ideas what that might be?" Hmm?"

The princess defensively shrugged and hid her face abashedly at her friend's insinuation, fighting back the smile though Mipha giggles to the notion were like a quiet song airing the mood.

An intrigued silence settled over the royal box shortly after, punctuated by distant cheers and murmurs from the excited crowd below. Zelda as she pondered what was said stared pensively into the waterfalls display, eager to see what it would show next, envisioning Helmsworth standing alone against creatures summoned from legend.

Urbosa gently broke the thoughtful quiet, voice low and comforting. "Fear not, Little Bird. Your Helmsworth possesses a fierce spirit. And if he's half the warrior you believe, perhaps today we'll see legends reborn."

Zelda exhaled slowly, offering her friend a grateful nod. "Perhaps we will," she whispered softly, her gaze fixed upon the distant arena, hope and dread intertwining silently within her chest.

"There you go," Link heaved. The heavy stone door groaned behind him as Link wedged a broken sliver of column beneath its edge, ensuring it wouldn't seal again. Just in case the others made it this far. When they made it this far, he corrected silently.

The chamber beyond exhaled cool, ancient breath as he entered—still, and heavy with the scent of water-worn stone and something older, like soaked parchment left in a temple long sealed. Before him stood a familiar sight: another oil basin.

“Well, best get going,” he said to himself, not before remembering his half-helm he stationed where he took the circlet earlier. “I’m going to need this for certain in the next trial. It’s battle I’ll be up against and there’s no telling what foes I’ll be facing.”

After fastening his helm, Link moved slowly ahead, boots sloshing lightly across the shallow puddle that rimmed the floor. His gaze lifted to the tall torch beside it—iron wrought and timeworn, its flame flickering gently, as though it had been waiting for him alone.

He looked down. There it was—etched into the smooth floor beneath the basin: the royal crest. Three triangles interlocked in their eternal dance, ancient and holy. As he knelt and touched the lip of the basin, he noticed it—one of the triangles glowed now, lit from within by some gentle magic. It first had gleamed after he claimed the Flame of Courage and stil did. He knew what needed to be done now.

The oil caught with a hiss as he took fire from the torch and tossed it to the basin. The flame that emerged was unlike any fire he'd ever seen—no crackling blaze of reds or oranges, but a slow-burning sapphire, elegant and fluid, as if drops of water had learned to dance like firelight. It curved and bowed rather than leapt, quiet in its flicker, dignified in its presence.

Link's breath hitched. He felt… watched. Not by danger, but by time itself.

Below on the stone floor, the royal crest stirred to life.

Two of the triangles lit—one already awakened from the first trial, still warm with the memory of courage earned. Now, beside it, the second triangle flared to life in response to the basin's flame, bathed in that unmistakable hue—the hue of Lanayru, of wisdom. Just one more left, he thought.

Suddenly, the ceiling above rumbled. Link staggered back, instinctively reaching for his blade, though no enemy came. Instead, the ceiling groaned, then parted like petals blooming beneath moonlight. Soft beams spilled downward, silver and pure, as if the goddess herself peered through the crack in the world.

A passage. A staircase—no, a marvel—descended from the ceiling, each step precise, sculpted from a blend of shimmering coral and blackstone. It did not fall so much as glide downward, elegant and patient. Zora grace, Sheikah mastery. It unfurled from the rim of the ceiling down into the chamber like a stairway made of song. A way home.

Link tilted his head up, watching the impossible unfold, light trailing along each carved step, ancient and pristine.

He exhaled slowly. "So… that's the way out."

But his fingers lingered near the basin, his eyes on the blue flame. His thoughts, as always, drifted.

Orin, Sven… are you alright? Did you make it past the illusions of the forest and almost here? He chewed the inside of his cheek, guilt nagging at the corner of his thoughts. Regosso too… stubborn, thick-headed ass he is. Link frowned. But no one deserves to be left behind in a place like this.

Still staring at the flame, he muttered under his breath, "Come on, all of you. I didn't hold that door open for nothing."

He stepped onto the staircase. Each footfall echoed faintly in the silent chamber, reverent somehow. The moonlight bathed him in silver, the air cooler here, cleaner—less like the breath of buried tombs and more like the hush of a world reborn. His fingers brushed the carved railings, marveling at the seamless blend of coral inlays and smooth obsidian lines. Zora beauty, Sheikah genius. A forgotten alliance set in stone.

Then his stomach gave a loud, pitiful growl.

Link blinked.

"… I'd kill for just an apple. Or three."

The thought pulled a quiet laugh from his throat, one he hadn't expected. It centered him. Grounded him. Reminded him of the simple things—like how terribly long it had been since he'd eaten anything that wasn't dried, salted, or clinging to the bottom of his satchel. He sure hope the feast he would be able to enjoy this time. Goddess knows that little squire of his lucked out last time. There will be no deathblows to the head to send him to the infirmary, he vowed. Not this time.

He picked up the pace. The surface awaited. The last trial awaited. And whatever this war of kings and chancellors may have devised for him and his friends… he'd be ready.

The royal box was once again alive with movement and light, the warmth of the sun now replaced by the mellowed pale hue of the coming moonrise that bathed the silken awnings and polished marble underfoot. Trumpets had fallen silent, replaced by the music of conversation, the flutter of silk fans, the faint lapping of the waters below, and the rustling of guests finding their own masks trickling through the gallery levels under them.

Zelda turned as a familiar clatter of feet bounded up the last few steps—Jun, desperately clutching his hat to his head and winded, held a burlap sack nearly half his size.

" And just like that, I've returned, Princess!" he declared, breathless but triumphant, dust puffing from his tunic as he skidded to a halt. "And I've got them—all of them!"

"You slipped away without a word, where did you learn to sneak away like that?" Zelda smiled, leaning in her seat, evaluating the boy. "I'm glad it were the mask you were after. I was beginning to wonder if something happened with you."

"With me? Never fear! I can handle myself better than most." The boy boasted.

"I bet you can," Zelda mused aloud. Jun grinned crookedly and tugged open the sack with a dramatic flourish. "I have one for everyone," he said.

"Who needs a mask?" he asked as few curious glances shot back his way. Some delighted guests scooted out from their seats to get a gander at his wares and he began handing them out one by one, careful in his choices.

"And…to Lady Purah, the keaton, she'll want," he announced, producing a sleek, crimson-and-gold mask with narrow, slitted eyes and a cunning grin. "Clever eyes for a clever Sheikah, am I right?" Jun said, as he smiled and courteously handed over the mask. Oh, I bet you think you are clever, he thought, eyeing her take his friendly offering. Well, let’s see how smart you feel when you fall right into our trap and get what’s coming to you, blood traitor.

Purah snatched it with a delighted twirl. Even catching herself off guard by her over interest in the affair. She returned his prize with a suggestion. "Flattery and accuracy in one sackful of loot? Jun, you're wasting your talents as a squire, I see."

"And, to the Princess Mipha," Jun continued, holding up a delicate white heron mask, accented with flowing azure feathers. "For the grace that glides through the hardest currents."

Mipha blinked, surprised, then smiled softly, her cheeks tinting pink. "It's beautiful. Thank you. I'll be sure to do the festival proud and frighten back the moon with this prized gift!"

"Speaking of fright!" Daruk nudged the boy, and was already peering into the sack with childlike wonder. "Is there one that makes me look like a Blin-slayer?"

Jun pulled out a bright red mask shaped like a Goron elder—its stony brows furrowed in a battle cry. "Or… perhaps this," he offered. Swapping it for a grinning, round faced sneaky looking man with squinting eyes.

Daruk tried it on, only for Prince Arcturus to burst into a laugh.

"Ah, with just three more drinks of the finest Cremia Red and you could almost pass for Hylian now, old friend."

"Hah!" Daruk barked, ripping it off good-naturedly. "No thanks! If I'm to wear anything to a masquerade, it better make my enemies whimper!"

Jun blinked. "Er… we've a few beast masks left...Bokos, Gobs, Sneaksnakes…"

Daruk pushed the lad aside eagerly and rummaged himself, then triumphantly held up a floppy-eared dog mask with a tongue sticking out.

"Now this is what I'm talking about! Yeah, this is the one!" Daruk accepted it with a boisterous roar of approval, lifting it high for all to bear witness. "Perfect. This'll strike fear into their hearts."

The crowd unanimously blinked and mipha let out another giggle of amusement she tried to hide.

Zelda on the other hand couldn't hide her laugh at all and sweetly remarked to him. "That is if you plan to melt their hearts with adorableness," she chirped. "A sweet, doggy mask like that? And he is such a good boy," she said, making a petting voice, gesturing toward Daruk who went red, embarrassed, looking like he was about to erupt like Death Mountain.

Urbosa added, "Given the choice between the pooch and yourself now, you're much more terrifying already, Daruk. That mask could only add charm."

Laughter rippled through the box and Jun turned to face Zelda, speaking only to her "You still have yours?"

"Of course." Zelda's fingers found the edge of her own mask—already secured earlier, a delicate silver owl shaped with sweeping brows and intricately detailed feathers. The "sweetling owl," you called it. A symbol of quiet knowing. "I had it brought up while you fetched the others."

"I'll make sure it matches the one I have in store for Helmsworth, Princess," Jun said, as if reading her thoughts.

Before she could reply, a shadow fell across the fountain's image as the great waters rippled once more. The crowd watching below rose in a sudden cheer and applause.

A hush fell at the royal enclosure, as they all attempted to see what the commotion could have been about.

The waterfall shimmered on the great Sheikan-Zora canvas, revealing again the familiar figure now burned into Zelda's thoughts—Sir Helmsworth.

He stood within a circular chamber deep beneath the earth, a single torch in hand. The basin before him blazed suddenly, casting ghost-blue light that danced like watery flame. And then, to their collective astonishment, the ceiling above him peeled open like a bud to the moon. A staircase descended—stone and silver, ancient and precise.

Gasps erupted all around her.

"He's done it," Zelda whispered, standing slowly. Others followed to watch in amazement.

"Goddess," Purah murmured, her hand tightening over her fox mask. "That boy keeps defying the laws of probability."

"Or perhaps," Impa mused beside her, "he's simply fated for something greater."

"I knew he would." Jun puffed out his chest with a smile that tried to hide how deeply he'd been worried. "He's—well, he's him."

A voice slithered in, smooth as polished glass. "See?" Lord Arasmus leaned against the balustrade, addressing no one and everyone. "Did I not say so, my Sundelion? He has the luck on his side for certain."

Zelda's lips tensed.

Arasmus gestured to the image as nobles chuckled politely around him. "Perhaps I'll meet this mysterious knight one day. Goddess knows, I should keep an eye on him. Talents like those… well, they tend to stir the wrong kind of attention."

The words were for the crowd, the tone generous—but the glance he slid to Zelda, half-amused and half-possessive, was anything but.

She straightened, calm and bright as a moonlit blade.

"I hope you do meet him, Lord Arasmus," she replied with perfect poise. "You might even learn something."

Several of the younger nobles chuckled. Even Daruk let out a soft "hoo-boy" under his breath.

Arasmus's smile tightened and he raised a cup to her and she did likewise before her gaze went back to the flickering pool; letting the laughter fall behind her like an old veil.

Helmsworth had completed the second trial. Two flames kindled. One to go. Come on, you can do it, I know it, she thought. She too eagerly wanted to meet the man behind the helmet as well.

She only prayed he'd make it back before the masquerade began… or before her heart gave itself away completely.

The image shimmered once more—now the cascading veil of water split, like twin mirrors colliding. One side showed Helmsworth climbing steadily from the ancient sanctum's depths, the sapphire circlet gone but the light still clinging to his armor as if reluctant to let him go. His boots met moonlit stone with wary grace, sword sheathed at his side, hair damp, chin lifted. The other half of the image bled back to the Forest of Dark Whispers, where ten figures stumbled into the fog's edge—muddy, bruised, haunted. The survivors.

She saw that one had a lean gait, helping another walk as he limped beside him. Even Regosso she recognized as he descended to the Great Cistern where Helmsworth had fled ahead, pride tattered but still upright. Alive.

A soft breath escaped her. Relief, tinged with guilt. They had made it where others had surrendered to the saving grace of the Rito patrols.

But Helmsworth was alone. He always was. Always pressing forward, daring to even the odds.

Zelda clasped her hands, fingers winding tight. She didn't realize she had gone quiet again until Purah nudged her gently with an elbow.

"You're thinking too hard again, Princess," she said without looking up. "That boy's more durable than castle forged steel."

Zelda blinked, then forced a smile. "It's not his durability I doubt. Only the world's patience in giving him time to prove it."

A moment passed, and then Chancellor Danarus Draene rose beside her father with the finality of a hammer's fall.

"Then it has begun," he declared, arms spread wide, voice rising above the murmuring crowd. The first ever Zelda ever heard him speak so resoundedly, "The Grand Finale. The Coliseum. May the best man win."

Applause followed like a tide. Somewhere behind them, the bells of Hyrule Castle began to toll, long and low. Nightfall has officially come and with it, the climax of the great trial of their day, ushering the beginning of the Moonfall Masquerade and celebrations to follow.

Zelda remained still.

Her eyes did not leave the image of the knight-to-be ascending stone by stone, alone beneath the stars, climbing toward the final trial that waited beyond the flame.

Authors Note- I hope you enjoyed this tidbit, please leave a comment if you did enjoy, it helps the story a lot and keeps me motivated. I noticed I haven't had hardly an comments for a long while on this platform and am curious if anyone is still reading. That being said, I am writing, like of course I am, but I also have a confession to make. I've been redrawing the map of Hyrule. The other one is too low of quality for my taste, so I decided to make a more detailed map. This one though won't just be the Kingdom of Hyrule. It will be the whole world. So, all the kingdoms known to the Zelda universe. So, there will be Hytopia, Labrynna, Halodrum, Gamelon, and Corredi. Plus a few extras. If you know which games these are from, all the better. It shouldn't rob me too much time from my writing so don't fret, but it helps me relax and keeps me in the Zelda zone. Thanks and I hope you'll like it when it's done.

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why we failed 100 years ago pt. 27

A Hero is Born

The wind met him first. Cool and fragrant, a whisper off the tall grass that rolled like seafoam across the open field. Link emerged from the ancient stairwell with a squint, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the slanting light of lunar luminescence. The circular opening behind him—the mouth of the cistern—vanished seamlessly into the woodland, a small stony crest nestled among moss and bramble.

He exhaled sharply, expecting to see the vibrant pavilions, colorful tents flapping, and the distant clamor of the cheering festival crowd. Instead, only silence greeted him—save for the soft rustle of trees and the quiet trill of unseen critters of the night. No fanfare, no fireworks. Just wind and wilderness. It almost seemed peaceful, except that he knew this is not the end of his troubles yet.

"This… isn't the way I came. Is this the exit?"

His boots crunched against dew kissed pine needles as he stepped further from the forest's mouth, gazing across the meadow. A wide expanse of green stretched before him, but what caught his eye was the colossal structure rising on the far end of the field: a great arena, its ringed walls standing two-and-a-half men high made from timber logs, interspersed with banners bearing the Hyrulean crest. Palisades guarded certain outposts within he could see from his vantage point and atop its parapets, no guards yet stood. No faces peered down. A quiet hush clung to the place, like breath held before a battle.

It was unmistakably the crudely crafted coliseum—the Crucible of Inferno, if whispers were to be believed. The path was plain before him—no crossroads, no fork. Only one way forward. He walked over cautiously.

As he neared the outer edge of the coliseum grounds, something new stirred in the air—a scent of roasted nuts and spiced bread, out of place in such solemn surroundings. That was when he noticed the table—set oddly alone beneath a lean wooden awning draped with silken cloth. A pair of finely hewned, Goron-carved tankards, shaped from pewter, shimmered atop its surface, sweating with condensation. Beside them, platters of simple fare—dried meats, fruit slices, and crisp bread rolls.

Link took in a breath and recollected where he had just emerged. "Must've come out a league off from where the others are watching," he muttered, his damp hair dripping under his helm atop his shoulder. "Clever cistern. Dropping me here like a misdelivered parcel. But how will they?—"

"—See your progress?" came a sudden voice that startled him. And there, seated behind the spread, was a hooded man. Link had nearly missed him. He blended in so well with the surroundings like a stone. The man stood and approached, his footfalls silent as sunrise.

His robes were tattered and the color of pale ash, long and flowing, and his face—if he had one—was shadowed beneath the cowl. When he spoke, his voice was as smooth as still water, neither young nor old, warm nor cold. Just… there.

"You are early," the figure intoned, nodding once. "The others are yet to arrive."

Link stopped in his tracks. His instincts tensed—not fear, exactly, but a feeling that curled like a cat's tail around his spine. Something wasn't right. Yet nothing screamed danger either.

"Who are you?" he asked, not reaching for his blade… but not stepping closer yet.

"A warden. Or perhaps a witness. It matters little, lad."

Lad. Link's brows pulled together. He frowned at the familiarity, but the man gestured with a single hand toward the table. "Eat. The trials demand much. And what lies ahead… demands more. You'll need your strength."

Link's stomach answered for him, a traitorous growl rising from beneath his tunic.

"…Thanks," he said hesitantly, stepping forward and plucking a strip of dried fish from the platter. He took a bite. Salty. Tangy. His shoulders slackened slightly as he chewed. He hadn't realized how hard his jaw had been clenched.

"This is the Coliseum, isn't it?" he asked between swallows, taking a sip from the finely shaped tankard. The water was soothingly cool and crystal-clean as it glided down his parched throat—like the pools deep in the Domain. He knew it well from his childhood, Zora water; always chilled perfectly, even when stood out on a blistering summer day for hours.

The hooded man didn't nod, didn't shake his head. Instead, he murmured. "Many have called it so. A crucible. A proving. A forge for steel and souls. But even the strongest blade shatters when wielded with haste."

Link blinked. "So... yes?"

A chuckle came—soft, too calm. "It is the place you seek, and also the place you must endure. But not yet. Not until the others arrive. To face the final trial alone is not the path. You'd find glory perhaps… or certain doom lest you venture perilously ahead."

Link had half a mind to go anyway. But the voice pulled at something in him—a memory of Zelda's quiet words and of her laughter, of Mipha's soft, soothing voice of encouragement, or Jun's awkward smile. Then the voice reminded him of Orin and Sven. Did they make it to the cistern and did they follow the path he chartered for them?

His eyes flicked to the arena walls. Still empty. No sounds. No steps. He sighed. "Fine. I'll wait," he said, brushing crumbs from his gloves. "Not for you. For them."

The hooded man said nothing more. Only folded his hands on the table, still as stone.

Link knelt to the grass beside the food, eyes trained on the silent gate of the coliseum, heart steadying to the rhythm of the wind. But in the pit of his belly, anticipation curled like fire waiting to catch.

Zelda's eyes were transfixed upon the shimmering cascade, its silken currents illuminating Helmsworth's figure as he stepped onto the distant meadow, half-helm still obscuring his features. She hardly realized how intently she was staring, how her thoughts had drifted into quiet fantasies, wondering about the man who wore bravery so comfortably yet whose true face she had never glimpsed. What color were his eyes, she wondered absently, what expression lay hidden beneath that steel?

Urbosa's gentle voice broke through her reverie, rich and soothing yet tinged with an edge of playful curiosity. "You seem rather captivated, little bird. Should I be worried for you—or perhaps for Lord Arasmus?"

Zelda startled faintly, warmth flooding her cheeks. She turned swiftly, attempting to mask her embarrassment behind a regal composure, but she could see from Urbosa's knowing gaze that it was too late.

"Worried?" Zelda echoed, offering a small, sheepish laugh as she smoothed her gown nervously. "I'm perfectly fine. Just...caught up in the trials. That's all."

"So, for Arasmus, it is." Urbosa tilted her head slightly, lips twitching into a knowing half-smile, though she mercifully said nothing more. Even so, Zelda felt her heart betray her with every rapid beat, realizing that perhaps her feelings weren't quite as secret as she had imagined.

Zelda shook her head and glanced at her friend. "He should be if he knows what's good for him."

"Oh, is that so?" came Arasmus's silky voice, suddenly close enough behind them to send a jolt racing down Zelda's spine. She turned abruptly, eyes wide with guilt, her cheeks blossoming to a telltale crimson. Arasmus regarded her with a playful, probing smile. "And just what is it that I must be worried about, My Sundelion?"

Zelda's mouth opened, but nothing came forth except an unintelligible murmur as she flailed internally, grasping desperately for an explanation that wouldn't sound utterly foolish. Her eyes darted helplessly to Urbosa, who smoothly stepped in with a warm, disarming laugh.

"Only worried that your impeccable charms might finally have some competition, Lord Arasmus," Urbosa teased, her emerald eyes glinting mischievously as she elegantly gestured toward the far-off projection. "Our mysterious knight-to-be seems to be winning hearts faster than he wins trials."

Arasmus chuckled softly, his smile silkily dismissive, eyes glittering with polished arrogance as he turned back toward the nobles gathered around him. "A masked knight with parlor tricks and cheap armor hardly seems a rival worth losing sleep over," he remarked dryly, eliciting amused nods and murmurs of approval from the circle of aristocrats. "Still," he continued smoothly, his gaze flicking back toward Zelda with calculated charm, "if such theatrics entertain you, Princess, perhaps I shall endeavor to show you wonderful tricks of my own tonight. For your eyes only."

Polite laughter rippled once more among the nobles, each echo feeling like a delicate barb beneath Zelda's skin.

Zelda released the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, ignoring his comment and turning gratefully toward Urbosa. "Thank you, it was worth a shot," she whispered.

Urbosa inclined her head gently, eyes twinkling. "Consider it a gift, little bird. But you really must learn to hide your thoughts better—you're far too transparent when it comes to that young knight to be."

Zelda's face warmed further, but before she could reply, Purah burst between them excitedly, nearly toppling a tray held by a startled servant.

"Look! Look!" Purah cried eagerly, pointing at the cascading fountain, practically bouncing on her heels. "The others—they've made it through! They're catching up to our Helmsworth!"

Zelda's eyes by sheer reflex flashed on Purah. Our Helmsworth?

Everyone set their masks aside and turned once again toward the shimmering projection just as the water rippled suddenly and went blank, eliciting shocked gasps and confused murmurs throughout the gathering. The crowds below also started to fuss in anxious wonder.

"Goddess, no—" Zelda started, anxiety flooding swiftly back into her chest, fingers tightening against the balustrade as she stood to get a better view.

But before the concern could fully set in, the Grand Herald stepped forward swiftly, his reassuring voice carrying above the uneasy murmurs of the assembled crowd. "Peace, my lords and ladies! All is well. There is merely a five-minute intermission before the cadets begin their final challenge. The Coliseum awaits!"

A collective sigh of relief rippled through the observers, tension melting slightly as whispered conversations resumed their cheerful rhythm. Yet, despite the herald's comforting words, Zelda's pulse still hammered restlessly beneath her skin, her eyes lingering on the now silent waterfall, praying that Helmsworth's courage would be enough to carry him safely through what lay ahead.

Link turned swiftly at the sound of footsteps scuffling against stone, relief washing through him as familiar faces emerged from the shadowed stairway. Orin appeared first, one arm supporting Sven, whose face was pale and drawn tight with pain. They stumbled into the moonlight, exhaustion plain in every step. Torches lighting the path with an orange warmth made their faces more clear.

"Orin! Sven!" Link called warmly, moving to greet his friends. But before he reached them, another voice cut sharply across the clearing.

"And who exactly is this masked hero greeting us so warmly?" Regosso sneered, stepping forward, his broad shoulders squared proudly, crimson hair tousled but somehow still arrogantly immaculate. "The rest of us have managed to forgo our helms until the real fighting begins; perhaps you fear the moon?"

More cadets lined up beside Regosso, tall and proud. "I know the moonfall masquerade is happening tonight but this is the trials, mayhaps you would prefer to sit and cheer for us alongside the ladies than venture forward?" Regosso stepped forward shoving past the others. "Or, are you hiding something else beneath it?"

A few snickers rippled through the battered group. Link sighed and pulled off the half-helm, shaking his head slightly, sweat-dampened hair clinging to his forehead.

Regosso's smug grin faltered, his face twisting with irritation and surprise. "You? How did a peasant runt like you manage to get here first? I thought we lost you back at the woods." The burly cadet shook his head in disapproval and spat on Link's boot. "You must have cheated by the help of your up-jump father, I bet!"

Link's jaw tightened at the insult, but he forced his voice even, betraying no emotion. "My father is five leagues from here by now doing his duty; he had nothing to do with this. It's not my fault no amount of training can give you the skill to be a true guardsman."

Regosso's cheeks reddened, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Bah! Skill or luck, your good fortune ends here," he retorted venomously. "I promise you, it will be me who wins the final flame. Watch your back, stable boy."

Ignoring the taunt, Link turned back to Orin and Sven who limped closer to him, taking stock of their injuries. "You both look like you might've tangled with a Hinox. Here, there's food and fresh water—" He gestured toward the hooded man and the spread of provisions he'd offered earlier. "Get some strength back before—"

His words faltered mid-sentence as he turned. The spot where the hooded figure had stood was clear, the man utterly vanished. A cold chill crawled down Link's spine, confusion flickering in his eyes. All that remained was the table with the spread of rations.

"Who are you pointing at?" Sven asked weakly, brows furrowing in confusion. "You alright, Link?"

Regosso barked a laugh, sharp and derisive. "Perhaps the trials rattled his wits loose—or did you hit your head, Link? You should forfeit now and spare us the embarrassment. The guard has a reputation to keep and madness isn't a good look; even for you."

Fresh laughter echoed among the other pledges. Link's hands tightened into fists at his side, anger hot beneath his skin, ready to snap back—until Orin's gentle hand rested firmly on his shoulder.

"Let it go," Orin murmured softly. "He's not worth the trouble. Show him in the trials."

Link drew in a slow breath, forcing the heat from his veins, and silently nodded, though his heart still burned with quiet frustration.

As each man separated to join their friends, they all stared at eachother in awkward silence, eating and drinking what they can to garner whatever strength they could replenish, planning their own thoughts in their minds of what they must do next. A rustle of wind blew and just as Regosso swallowed his apple and was about to jest again, the low clang of bells shuddered through the meadow, a deep, resonant toll that stilled every hand mid-motion.

Regosso's sneer faltered, his next jeer hanging uselessly in the air. All eyes snapped toward the towering spiked gates that barred the entrance to the coliseum.

With a great groaning creak of ancient hinges, the wooden palisade split and slowly peeled apart, revealing the dark maw of the Crucible beyond. Mist, thick and silvered under the twinkling of stars and moon, rolled outward from within the gaping mouth of the arena like breath from some slumbering beast.

Before any of them could move, the hooded man appeared again, soundless as mist. One moment there was only open space—and the next, he stood among them.

Link stiffened, feeling the hairs rise at the nape of his neck. There was no sound, no footfall, no shift in the grass. Just presence, quiet and terrible.

"Don your arms," the man said in a voice soft as a whisper yet carrying to every ear. "Steel your wills. Cover your faces with your helms once more, for beyond these gates, all men are equal—bound not by name nor birth, but only by the fire within their hearts."

The cadets exchanged uneasy glances but began hastily strapping helms back on, tightening leathers, checking buckles and gear with shaky fingers.

"The Crucible of the Inferno awaits," the hooded figure continued, voice rich like oil poured over stone. "Seven bastions stand within, each a beacon of resistance. They must be taken. Seized. Held."

He lifted one long finger, draped in a bell-sleeve of weathered cloth. "Enemies, long forgotten, walk again. Phantoms of war, born from Sheikah artifice and ancient Hylian spellcraft. Steel alone will not see you to victory."

A breath passed among them like a shared shiver. Link caught Orin casting a wary glance at Sven, who shifted uneasily on his wounded leg.

"You must conquer each stronghold and leave men behind to hold what you take," the man intoned, stepping closer, so close Link could almost feel the coolness of his shadow. "Or all will be for naught. Only those who endure and adapt shall reach the final flame."

"What guards the last?" someone rasped from the gathered cadets.

The hooded man tilted his head, as if savoring the question like fine wine. "The greatest beast of all, far to terrible to name, yet exist just the same."

A murmur rippled through the boys—speculations whispered like prayers or curses. A bear the size of a stable, a two-headed Stalmoblin heard from travelers in the wee hours of pubs, or worse, some ancient monster dredged from myth. Link's gut twisted tighter with every passing guess.

"And heed me well," the hooded man said, turning in a slow circle to regard them each in turn. "Glory favors the wise and the patient, not merely the bold. Work together, or perish apart."

"Pah!" Regosso snorted loudly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I'll have no need of sniveling companions. I aim to win and win I shall! That kiss is as good as planted on my lips!"

Several other cadets chuckled or nodded mutely, eager to leech off Regosso's bravado.

Link bit back a bitter smile. Pride, loud and puffed-up, always rotted quickest when the storm came. A quiet war raged inside him—pride urging him to forge ahead alone, to win honor and catch the notice of the princess watching from afar. But another voice, steadier, cooler, whispered caution. He thought of Orin's fatigue, and of Sven's wounded leg. Of the terror that could unmake even the boldest heart.

His fists clenched slowly at his sides. For her, yes but for honor also. And not at the cost of what is right.

The hooded man said nothing more. Instead, he lifted one hand to the gates, and with a slow, deliberate gesture, beckoned them inward. And just as he came, the man vanished into the trees off behind the standing hopefuls.

The armor creaked softly against Link's body as he adjusted the leather straps one last time, the helm firmly set atop his damp hair. Around him, the cadets shifted and fidgeted with their gear, nerves crackling in the air like a storm about to break.

Sven, limping but stubborn to carryon, hobbled to Link's side. His face was pale beneath his helm, but his eyes—wide and earnest—searched Link's with a kind of desperate hope.

"I wish I could be as brave as you are," Sven muttered under his breath, voice barely carrying above the soft clink of chainmail. "Are you ever... not afraid?"

Link glanced sideways at him, the corners of his mouth twitching, though not in humor. His voice, when he answered, was low and unflinching.
"Scared to death."

Sven blinked, startled, and then slowly—almost incredulously—grinned behind his battered helmet. Somehow, the truth was more comforting than any empty bravado.

Beside them, Orin clapped a steady hand to both their shoulders, leaning in with a crooked smile. "Good. Means you'll fight smarter than the ones who aren't."

The final bell tolled, deep and resonant, shaking the ground under their boots. Without another word, the cadets surged forward toward the gaping Crucible.

Regosso, naturally, led the charge with a swagger that bordered on reckless. His fiery red hair gleamed like a battle standard, his sword drawn before any enemy had even shown their face. As he passed Link, he jutted an elbow slyly into his side, just hard enough to bruise through the mail.

"Try not to get trampled, farm boy," Regosso jeered under his breath, loud enough for the others to hear and snicker.

Link grunted but didn't turn, keeping his eyes on the battlefield ahead. Pride wanted him to lash back, to call the fool out before all of them—but wisdom, hard-earned, bid him hold his tongue. One thing at a time. One battle at a time.

The Crucible sprawled out before them—a massive field littered with the scars of preparation. Crude palisades and sharpened wooden stakes crisscrossed the uneven ground, forcing them into narrow chokepoints. Ruined timber walls, shattered towers, and broken siegeworks sprawled like the bones of some ancient, fallen army.

Far across the field, seven outposts loomed—wooden towers bristling with pennants, watch fires already kindled, figures moving atop them like distant shadows. And there, at the very heart of the arena, atop a low, rocky hill, stood the final stronghold. The centerpiece. But they couldn't yet see what guarded it—the barricades and war machines obscured whatever terrible beast lay in wait.

Link inhaled sharply through his nose, tasting damp grassy air, sweat, and the electric tang of coming violence.

The first outpost stood less than a quarter league ahead—low and haphazardly fortified compared to the others. He could make out flickers of movement: Bokoblins, or what he imagined Bokoblins were, most likely. But if the Crucible's architect had a cruel imagination—and Link was certain they did—worse awaited them deeper inside.

"Together!" Link barked suddenly, his voice cracking like a whip. "Stay together! We'll take the first outpost as one, or none of us make it!"

Several cadets glanced at him, uncertain. He saw the conflict in their eyes—the pull of Regosso's bravado, the tug of survival instinct. Three boys, battered but keen-eyed, nodded grimly and veered toward Link's side.

The others? They followed Regosso, racing ahead with a reckless hunger for glory.

Link exhaled through his teeth and muttered under his breath, "So be it."

He tightened his grip on his sword and broke into a run, his friends close behind, the Crucible swallowing them whole as they charged into the fray.

"There they are!" Impa's voice rang out, crisp and clear, drawing the attention of the royal box once more to the cascading waterfall projection. Her wide hat and all its ornaments dangled and jangled as she stood abruptly to point below.

Zelda leaned forward instinctively, the fabric of her gown rustling faintly against the polished stone balustrade. The misty surface of the fountain shimmered, then sharpened—revealing the cadets, fully garbed, helms gleaming under the ghostly light, standing like pawns scattered across a weathered battlefield.

"About time they showed some sense," Urbosa quipped dryly, arms folding over her chest. Her keen amber eyes narrowed, studying the small groups forming below. "Looks like they're dividing... no, waiting for something."

Zelda followed her gaze, heart thudding. Among the helmed figures, her eyes instinctively sought him—Sir Helmsworth. But how to tell?
Then she saw it: a flutter of deep blue, tied neatly around the arm of one cadet. Her ribbon.
Warmth bloomed in her chest, a fragile hope blossoming even as nerves prickled at her spine.

"He's there," she breathed softly, a hand drifting over her heart before she caught herself and dropped it to her lap.

"More fools than tacticians," Arasmus drawled behind her, the edges of his words soaked in practiced charm. He gestured languidly toward the battlefield below where several cadets—Regosso's group—had broken formation already, rushing toward an outpost like overeager hounds. "Strategy seems to be in short supply among your would-be champions, my Sundelion."

Laughter rippled among the gathered lords and ladies at his jibe, but Zelda barely heard it. She schooled her face into a mild smile, refusing to rise to the bait.

"I have faith they'll find their footing," Zelda said lightly, never taking her gaze from the projection. Her voice, though sweet, carried a glint beneath it—a blade hidden in a bouquet. "If you think you can do better, you're more than welcome to join them."

Arcturus chuckled low under his breath from beside the king, clearly entertained by her deft parry. But, he wouldn't join them today. Oh no sir he wouldn't.

At that moment, Mipha shifted closer, her delicate hands clasped tightly in front of her. "I... I do hope Link made it to the Crucible," she murmured, her silvery voice almost lost beneath the crowd's rising buzz. "He's strong, but... this trial—"

"He'll be there," Zelda said quickly, offering Mipha a reassuring smile. "I'm sure of it. From what I heard about him, he's too stubborn to be left behind."

Below, in the swirling waters of the fountain, the cadets surged forward. The first outpost came into view—a makeshift fort bristling with crude palisades—and out of nowhere, violet-tinged portals bloomed like poisoned flowers at its gates.

Out leapt a tide of Bokoblins, grotesque and hunched, their screeches shrill and eager for blood.

Urbosa scoffed under her breath. "Tch. And what do we have here? What sort of cretins are those?"

Zelda stood faintly at the comment, but her hands tightened into small fists atop her knees as she watched. It was no small thing they would have to power through. "I seen pictures drawn from ancient scribes depicting them as Bokoblins, servants of the dark one, I think."

"Right you are, my dear" Her uncle nudged encouragingly. "You seem to know your histories. You'll make a great queen some day, sweet niece. Never falter to hone your learning." He finished with a wink not before more action fell over the displaying waterfall; stealing away all their attention.

Three cadets—Helmsworth among them—kept their heads, working together in swift coordination. Swords flashed. Shields clanged. Link moved with a precision that tugged at something deep inside Zelda, something fierce and breathless. Even saving two others who fell from formation, offering his hand for them to stand from the dust and rejoin the fight.

"They're clearing it!" Impa said excitedly, pointing as the first outpost's banner shifted color—marking it as captured. Instantly the portal there dissolved away. They had found refuge at one.

Another bell tolled, faint but clear even from their height.

The projection shifted again, showing the cadets rallying and moving toward the second outpost leaving a solo man to guard the first. This time, the portal disgorged a pair of Moblins, massive and hulking, their gnarled clubs slamming into the ground. As they swung wielding destruction with everyblow, ladies in the crowd gasped in unison at the fright of them, afraid to look another second. Some even shielded their peeking eyes between loosed fingers.

Even the nobles leaned forward now, the mood shifting from casual amusement to uneasy anticipation. Daruk bellowed a laugh loud enough to rattle goblets. "Now that's more like it!" he cheered, pointing to a daring performance made by Link and two others who bested a Moblin by springing a trap to have the beast crash to the ground in a dying tumble.

"Bet I could take two with one swing of my hammer, me self!" he then gestured a proud fist in the air at the Princess to give her encouragement. "Don't you fret little Princess, these lads would make great Goro warriors! And Goro warriors never lose!"

"Settle down now, mister 'Goro Warrior'" Purah teased, adjusting her spectacles. "You're frightening enough without a club, Daruk. And besides, as of right now, the only thing you managed to best is my goblet, you spilled my drink!"

"Oops," Daruk said, rubbing the back of his head wearing an embarrassed grin. Another ripple of laughter, warmer this time, eased the tension.

Zelda pressed a hand to her chest as she watched Helmsworth—and two others cleverly bait another of the Moblins into striking a weakened barricade. The structure collapsed, pinning the beast beneath splintered wood. The remaining cadets swarmed, finishing the creatures swiftly.

The second outpost, too, was seized and with it the dissolution of the mysterious portals that resurrected them to life. Cheers echoed faintly from the lower tiers of the arena where common folk and merchants watched the spectacle with rapt faces.

As they pressed toward the third outpost, however, the magic portals that remained shimmered again, and a new enemy emerged—What could only be described as a forked tooth, slimy lizard of menacing quality—a Lizalfos, quick and wiry, their yellow eyes gleaming with malevolence.

"This will test them," Urbosa murmured, sharp-eyed. "I have heard tale of such creatures existing in the far reaches of the forbidden wastes to the east. If the stories are to believed these beasts could have even more wits than your average man."

Zelda's stomach twisted with worry. She chewed her lip and bit the inside of her cheek as she watched the cadets falter—Regosso's group struggling already, their disjointed attacks falling apart against the Lizalfos' slippery speed.

But Helmsworth rallied his group with a decisive sweep of his arm, flanking the enemy while the others distracted them. Zelda's heart soared in her chest as she watched him move—not like a boy, but a leader.

The third outpost was captured moments later, its portal sealed, the ground around it eerily still. And yet the Crucible yawned before them still—more dangers yet to come, more trials lurking beyond the edge of sight. Zelda gripped the edge of her seat, knuckles whitening.

Please, be careful. I must meet the man behind the helm first—and that means you can't fall in battle.

The third outpost's banner shifted color with a shimmer of magic, signaling their victory—but not their safety. The Crucible still loomed wide and grim before them, an endless sea of traps, ruins, and battered palisades waiting to be claimed. From the heart of the battlefield, more shimmering portals tore open the air with a hiss, conjuring not just enemies—but obstacles.

A sudden surge of water puddled across the field, darkening the green into sucking, marshy soil. The Lizalfos slithered forth, their movements quick, tails slicing through the new pools with disturbing grace. They snapped their jaws and flicked their tongues, eyes gleaming hungrily as they spread out to block the cadets' path toward the fourth and fifth outposts beyond.

Zelda leaned forward instinctively, heart caught in her throat.

"They're trying to bog them down," Urbosa said with a scowl, hand resting on the hilt of her saber. "Clever little devils."

"And nasty," Impa added grimly. "They'll pick them off one by one if they rush in."

From the misty projection, Helmsworth—paused, scanning the marshy battlefield. Zelda could see him calculating. Thinking. His companions looked toward him, waiting for a call.

Come on, Helmsworth. You can do this.

Suddenly, Link pointed sharply toward the shattered remains of a palisade wall nearby. There, piles of discarded wooden beams lay half-sunken in the mud—old battlements left to rot.

Orin caught the idea first, grabbing a splintered beam with a grunt. The others followed, dragging the debris into rough lines. Quickly, they fashioned crude walkways across the worst of the flooded ground, forming makeshift paths stable enough to sprint across.

"They're building causeways!" Purah cried, practically bouncing in place.

"Smart," Urbosa said with approval. "Use the ground against the lizards."

Arasmus gave a dismissive snort under his breath, but Zelda barely heard him, her heart hammering in pride and terror both.

The Lizalfos, startled by the sudden surge of movement, lunged to intercept—but the cadets stuck together, working in tandem. Shields raised, spears they found nearby ready, they advanced along the makeshift paths in tight formation, baiting the Lizalfos onto firmer ground where their agility was blunted.

The first Lizalfo fell under a shield bash and twin sword thrusts. The second was pinned by a thrown spear, writhing as it vanished into mist. The third hissed and darted back, only to be caught between Link and another cadet closing in from both flanks.

One by one, the monsters fell—until the marsh fell silent once more.

Within minutes, the fourth outpost's portal guttered and died, its magic extinguished along with the bogs, its water drank up by the grass like it was neve there at all.

The fifth lay just beyond, up a small ridge crowded with jagged rocks and thistles. Another portal shimmered to life, vomiting forth more enemies—this time, armored Bokoblins wielding brutal morningstars.

"They're tougher," Daruk rumbled approvingly, stroking his chin. "Good. See what they're made of."

"They'll have to move fast," Impa said tensely. "If they get surrounded—"

She needn't have worried. Now showing fatigues but determined, Helmsworth led the charge again, coordinating a pincer movement. Orin and another cadet lured the Bokoblins down the ridge while Link circled around with two others, cutting them off from the rear. It was clean. Brutal. Efficient. Even sven made himself useful climbing atop a small, ruined tower of timber and flung arrows at those who would attack their rear.

By the time the fifth outpost's banner turned color, even the skeptical nobles had begun to murmur with quiet respect.

Down below, Helmsworth turned his helm briefly toward the center hill where the Crucible's heart awaited.

The Crucible yawned before them still—waiting, hungering.

And Helmsworth, sword in hand, led the way onward.

Sven winced as he leaned against the battered palisade, blood still seeping sluggishly from a gash along his ribs. Link clapped a hand on his shoulder, careful but firm.

"Stay here," Link ordered, voice low but resolute. "Guard this ground. Watch over the wounded."

"But—" Sven began, worry flashing in his eyes.

Orin cut him off with a gentle shake of his head. "You've done your part, brother. Let the rest be ours."

Link managed a faint, weary smile before turning away, not daring to show the true weight gnawing at his limbs. His shoulder ached fiercely beneath his mail — a cut from the Lizalfos ambush earlier. He hadn't even felt it at the time, so caught up in the rush of battle. Now, it burned with every heartbeat, the fatigue of the trials settling into his bones like a winter frost.

Can't show it. Not now. They need to believe I'm stronger than I feel.

Ahead, across the trampled field of the Crucible, Regosso and his swaggering entourage of friends approached the seventh and final outpost—the heart of the battlefield.

Link stiffened.

"Fool's going to rush it without thinking," Orin muttered darkly beside him.

And sure enough, Regosso, with a jeering laugh over his shoulder at Link, broke into a full sprint toward the center, longsword in hand.

"Glory's mine!" he crowed, slamming his shoulder through the invisible threshold of the final outpost. The ground shuddered.

With a great grinding roar, thick wooden fences erupted from the earth, encircling the heart of the Crucible in a spiked ring of imprisonment. The air shimmered with heat and raw magic. Trapped. No way in. No way out.

And then—A blinding flash. A roar that split the heavens, and shook the crowds watching in their seats from their view of the fountain.

The monstrous form of what could only be described as a Lynel materialized from the portal at the heart of the circle, silver mane whipping in an invisible wind, eyes burning like twin suns. It bore a massive blackened shield, and in the other hand, a spiked ball and chain that swung lazily, each movement promising death.

Zelda's warning from the waterfall echoed in Link's memory, unbidden: Wisdom, Courage, Power.

"By the Goddess..." Orin breathed, face draining of color. "Look what that Cocksure idiot awakened! And the damn fool is alone too!"

Beyond the carnage unfolding at the center, beyond the entrapment, a gleaming basin had risen as well, a glimmer of red and golden light beckoning all those to it — a final altar of stone at the far edge of the field. Swirling and menacing red flame flickered atop it, the Royal Sigil of Hyrule inscribed at its base.

"There it is!" Orin said urgently, grabbing Link's good arm. "The Flame! We can take it — now, while Regosso's caught!"

The other cadet with them, a sturdy lad from the western marches, nodded fiercely. "Let him rot. He asked for it."

Link hesitated, staring down the field, pulse roaring in his ears.

It would be easy, the thought whispered. He chose this. His arrogance laid this trap for himself. You owe him nothing.

Regosso's cries rang across the field — a frantic, almost pitiful sound as he dared to hide from the incoming blows of the monstrous beast. Though his fortune was wearing thin, every battlement he dove behind was smashed to bits and cinders with every lash of the whipping ball and chain.

Link's hand tightened over the hilt of his sword until his knuckles ached. His heart warred against itself — duty versus pride, mercy versus justice. Every rational part of him screamed to seize the flame, to claim the victory he had fought so hard to earn.

But true strength isn't in abandoning the fallen, his father once told him. Even those you despise. Especially those you despise. Fools they may be, but even fools have a place under Hylia's guarding light.

Link exhaled slowly, centering the thundering in his chest. His decision crystallized, sharp and immutable. He turned to Orin, voice rough but steady. "Take Sven. Gather the others. Get to that basin. Claim the flame and win victory for us all."

Orin stared at him, stunned. "What about you?"

"I'm going after him."

"You're mad—!"

"Maybe," Link said, grimly tugging his gauntlet tighter. He pointed toward the entrapment. "But someone has to be."

Before Orin could protest again, Link was already moving — sprinting toward the circle of rising dust and death, toward the Lynel's wrath, and the arrogant fool he refused to let die.

Because that's what a true knight would do. What a Royal Guardsman would do.

Authors Note: I hope you enjoyed this part of the story! The conclusion will be posted Sunday morning, so stay tuned. If you have a moment, I'd love to hear your thoughts in a comment—or even better, swing by the YouTube channel and show it some love. Every little bit of support really lifts my spirits and keeps the fire going.
Lately, I've been feeling a little low, and hearing from you all truly reminds me why I love writing this. Your encouragement makes all the time and effort so worth it. Thank you for being here.

My youtube is Sir Link. I can't share links here but the video to search for is Zelda botw Sequel (Fanmade) Audiobook part 1

There are 8 parts. The later ones need love.

I thank you for all the support. <3

Chapter Text

Important Note: I released a chapter yesterday as well, so be sure to make sure and read that first incase the website brought you here instead. Thanks and I hope you enjoy.

Chapter

Why we failed 100 years ago pt. 28

Identity Crisis

Link sprinted across the churned earth, his pulse hammering with urgency. Ahead, dust swirled and timber creaked ominously under the blows of the Lynel's monstrous weapon. The fencing, a barrier hastily conjured by ancient spells, loomed before him—spiked palisades too sheer and tall to scale easily.

Think, Link! he urged himself fiercely, eyes darting for any break or foothold. Courage, wisdom, power... Hylia help me, which one do I use now?

From inside the barricade, Regosso's furious shouts had turned frantic. He swung wildly, his blade ringing uselessly against the Lynel's heavy shield. The beast roared in fury, its great ball and chain whirling violently through the air.

Crash!

Regosso parried desperately—but it was hopeless. The steel of his longsword splintered in a burst of sparks, the shattered metal scattering like fragments of starlight. Regosso staggered backward, disbelief etched across his arrogant face, now white with panic.

"Regosso!" Link shouted over the din, though he knew the proud lordling couldn't hear him. "Stay on your feet! Keep moving! Hide!"

He needed a way inside—now.

His gaze caught something: a pair of heavy shields, discarded by fleeing cadets and some from the cretins from before, lay half-buried in the muddy earth beside the barrier. Link's heart jolted with sudden clarity. Not a ladder—a ramp.

Without hesitation, he seized one of the broad shields, dragging it close. It was sturdy enough, its curved edge almost perfect. His muscles burned as he heaved it up against the palisade wall at an angle, driving its metal lip deep into the earth with a determined stomp of his boot. Breathless, he grabbed the second shield, wedging it higher, using the first as a sturdy anchor.

If this doesn't work, he thought grimly, I'll be nothing but a fool who died trying to save another fool.

Inside the ring, the Lynel snorted, stalking closer to Regosso, who scrambled backward desperately, gripping only the useless hilt of his ruined blade. The beast lifted its weapon again, its dreadful chain rattling like death's own bell.

"Hold on," Link whispered fiercely, steadying himself as fear coiled tight in his chest. His shoulder screamed in protest as he began his climb, armor scraping wood, boots slipping against slick metal. Yet he pressed upward, driven by the sheer stubbornness that was courage—the courage he wore like armor now, far stronger than steel or mail.

Almost…there!

With one final heave, Link vaulted over the spiked lip of the fencing, heart nearly stopping as he plunged into the arena. He landed hard, rolling swiftly to his feet, sword already drawn, breath ragged and vision narrowed.

The Lynel turned slowly, sensing the new intruder, its furious eyes fixing upon him.

Link tightened his grip, swallowing down his terror as he squared off with doom itself.

Alright, beast. Let's dance.

Link barely had time to find his footing before the Lynel roared, shaking the earth beneath his feet, its crimson eyes blazing with fury. Regosso scrambled backward, weaponless, panic flashing raw across his face.

"Get to the edge!" Link yelled desperately. "Find a way out!"

Link's heart nearly stopped as the Lynel halted suddenly, roaring toward the heavens. Its monstrous ball-and-chain dissolved into shadows, vanishing into a swirl of dark mist that coiled eerily around its muscular frame. Link froze, breath trapped painfully in his chest as he watched, transfixed in horrified awe. What sort of power is this? he thought desperately. Before he could even blink, the black vapors solidified once more, conjuring a massive, cruelly serrated axe into the beast's monstrous grip. The newly summoned weapon gleamed darkly, hungry for blood, promising swift and merciless death. A chill colder than the deepest winter settled in Link's bones. He knew, in that harrowing instant, the true magnitude of the ancient evil he faced—and how dangerously close he was to being utterly consumed.

The Lynel charged without hesitation, thunderous hooves pounding as Link rolled frantically aside. Dirt exploded from the impact of the beast's mighty axe, showering him with debris. He staggered up, heart hammering in his throat, barely managing to parry the follow-up blow. His sword screamed in protest, vibrating painfully in his grip.

"Come on!" he taunted the creature, voice hoarse with terror and adrenaline. "Is that all you've got?"

He swung again just as the beast charged by in a magnificent dodge, blade slicing futilely against the Lynel's armor-like hide, leaving barely a scratch. His attacks angered the foul monster than hurt it. The creature snarled, swiping furiously, driving Link back step by agonizing step. Each clash of metal sent sparks and agony up Link's wounded shoulder, blurring his vision with searing pain.

Regosso stood frozen, wide-eyed and pale. "Link, just run!" he shouted helplessly, voice cracking with dread. "We have to get out of here!"

Link glanced back, sweat and dirt staining his features, determination barely masking the terror in his eyes. "I don't run," he growled fiercely, lunging once more at the Lynel. His blade met the heavy axe, and the sheer force ripped it from his hands, sending the sword spinning high into the air, lost to him now. Link stumbled back from the blow, narrowly missing his throat from being split open. He fell onto the ground, but frantically sprang back up to his feet.

"Demise take you!" he cursed in desperation, diving aside as the Lynel spun to face him.

The Lynel drew back its head, and unleashed a torrent of fire, roaring like a dragon itself. Flames blazed at him and the only thing the cadet could do was run for his life. A spinning circle of dark fires chased him but he managed to narrowly escape its cruel vengeance. Link rolled and dodged out of the way, further from the beast behind some palisades that took the brunt of the attack, scattering the flames around him. Where he knelt was unburned. For now.

It was then his eyes blinked hopelessly, and he saw what had happened. The balls of fire engulfed the barricades, devouring the wooden fencing in an inferno. They were trapped with the beast.

"No…" Link whispered, chest tightening with panic as smoke thickened around them. "Seven maidens we beg your mercy, help us—there's no way out."

Then he saw it—beyond the Lynel to its side, a glowing stone monument, a strange, pulsing portal where the Lynel had emerged. The source of its power at the center of the crucible.

"Regosso, stay back!" Link shouted. He dove forward, darting and dodging, drawing the creature's attention, pulling it away from his terrified companion. "Over here, you horned bastard! Come on!"

The Lynel snorted angrily, hefting its axe once more, following him with thunderous strides. Link's lungs burned with every step, his shoulder aching, vision blurred by smoke and pain. But he managed to lead a chase to the center of the bastion which held the key he hoped would be their salvation. Goddess Please, let it be so! Or I'm as good as dead.

The knight wishing to be halted at his quarry and spun to face the coming demon which looked at him with vicious hunger. The beast roared as Link taunted it once more, mustering whatever courage he thought he lost moments ago.

"Closer," Link murmured breathlessly, heart thundering, eyes locked on the monument. "Come a little closer…" Link the roared back, "Come and get me you bastard!"

With a deafening roar, the Lynel charged, reared up on its hind legs and swung down with its mighty axe. At the last possible moment, Link lunged aside. The beast's weapon crashed violently into the glowing stone. An explosion of blinding light erupted, surging electricity cascading across the Lynel's massive body, crackling and sizzling violently. The violent energy which powered the swirling portal from whence it came faded and consumed the monument that its axe buried into.

The monster bellowed in agony, paralyzed by the surge, smoke and sparks curling around it. It couldn't free its hold, stuck in an endless surge of pain and power which began to pulse and electrify the entire stone monument.

"Regosso!" Link shouted frantically, seizing the briefest moment of reprieve. "Now! To me!"

He sprinted toward his rival, only to find him buried under some broken battlements and rubble. Link knew what he had to do and help his fallen commerade.

"You? You came back for me? Why?" Regosso asked with a groan of pain, as Link attempted to remove the debris that pinned him down. "You despise me! I know you do."

"Are you really asking that, now? " Link said, ignoring his outburst, his voice strained as he heaved a huge pillar from crushing Regosso's leg. "There's no time, this whole place is going to go up in smoke if we don't get out of here and now!"

Link managed to free enough space to where Regosso could slip out. As he did he tossed the beam aside, lifting his battered rival roughly beneath his arm. Regosso stumbled, eyes wide with shock, but Link ignored his sputtered protests, hoisting him over his shoulder, ignoring the screaming agony in his injured shoulder.

"What's your master plan now, farm boy?" Regosso gasped desperately, pain with every movement. "There's nowhere to run! We're doomed."

In that moment, the strange ancient power that had a stranglehold of the Lynel with a grip he couldn't let go began to swell around the bastion where they left it and began to pulse and magnify with every passing breath. Time was running out, and Link knew it. As he helped Regosso up to his feet he glanced over his shoulder. A panic surged within him. They were trapped as his fellow cadet said, a ticking bomb about to go off at any moment to their backs and to their front, no escape due to the raging inferno that consumed the fences.

But just as all hope was lost and Regosso began to despair, Link's gaze fixed ahead—toward a shallow pool of water left from the Lizalfos skirmish, lying just within their fiery prison. He thought they had all vanished, yet this one remained. It must have been due to the portal existing nearby. It was the only explanation. Whatever the reason, he didn't care. That would be their only salvation if they were to hope at a chance at all.

"There's are way out," he whispered, desperation making him bold. "Hold tight!"

With every ounce of strength and courage he could summon, Link charged toward the wall flames that guarded the shallow pool, his heart pounding, his legs nearly buckling beneath Regosso's weight and his fatigue. The fire roared and danced around him, heat blistering against his skin.

Please, Goddess, let it be enough.

He leapt forward, the world roaring with flame and smoke as he plunged him and Regosso toward the water, praying desperately that courage alone would carry them through.

The atmosphere in the royal box had grown stifling, tension gripping Zelda's heart as she stared desperately at the swirling images cascading down the enchanted waterfall. She clenched her hands tightly in her lap, knuckles white beneath the silken gloves.

"Goddess above," Mipha whispered, voice trembling, eyes wide with horror at the chaos unfolding below. "Can nothing be done for them?"

Zelda turned swiftly, her voice breaking with desperation as she leaned urgently toward Revali. Hoping against hope, an idea came to her. "Master Revali, ready your scouts again. We must get them out of there—now. The trials are finished—"

"Princess, wait!" Arasmus's sharp voice sliced through the frantic murmurs around them. He raised a calm, commanding finger, stepping toward her with authoritative grace. "They must have the chance to finish what they started. As kind as your intentions are, please, you must think before you do this. This is the Trial of the Flame, once in a lifetime, the ultimate test set out for the Royal Guard. If you maintain this course of action, only dishonor will befall these brave men. Please wait and see what they will do. I beg you."

Zelda rounded on him, eyes blazing fiercely. "Wait until what, My Lord? Until they're dead? Until we've watched them burned to a crisp? Is that what honor is to you? I call it cruelty!"

Arasmus met her gaze, his expression softening, yet still holding firm resolve. His voice dropped gently, filled with a quiet sincerity, though his words stung like a blade. "Please, I know you fear for your new friend, but aren't you the one who endlessly praises this Helmsworth's skill and valor? Where's the honor in a forced surrender? If he truly is the champion you see him to be then give him a champion's right. Like all true warriors and a brave one such as him would choose death before such disgrace. To be saved by the likes of Rito and not at their own free will." Arasmus gestured toward Revali with mild disdain. "You call him a champion—well, my Princess, true champions fight to the bitter end, no matter the cost. Let him win his victory, alone, as the Goddesses above intended."

Several nobles murmured approval, a chorus of agreement rippling through the ranks. Others were divided and agreed with the princess. The king himself nodded slowly, solemn and quiet, eyes fixed gravely on the scene, taking no sides.

Zelda's chest tightened painfully, breath catching sharply as she stared into Arasmus's eyes, searching for mercy or softness hidden beneath his unyielding words. She opened her mouth to respond, but found no voice, no reply to the bitter logic he'd laid bare. Is this truly about honor, or a swift end to a new rival?

But just as if he could hear her thoughts Arasmus bowed his head toward her. " I promise you, if there were any other way, I'd unsheathe and take Stonebreaker and leave these stands myself to render aid to save your champion. But the rules set bestowed by the old KNIGHTs of legend are clear."

It was then Zelda noticed the honesty in his eyes, he wasn't lying. Though it would have been easier for her to believe if he was. He truly did care for honor's sake.

Urbosa stepped beside Zelda and placed a hand on her shoulder tearing her focus from Arasmus. "I'm with you Princess. Honor can be won another day," Urbosa said gently but firmly at her side, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Trust in your heart. You are the princess. You will be heir apparent this night, your word is law, command it be so."

Behind her, Purah anxiously tapped her glasses, biting her lower lip, eyes flickering nervously between the arguing nobles and the perilous scene below. "Yes, Princess, if we're going to do something, it has to be now. They're running out of time."

Revali subtly leaned closer too, his voice quiet but edged with fierce disdain as he eyed Arasmus coldly. "Say the word, Princess and my men are at your beckon to take flight from this place. Forget this lord's notion of valor—this is your decision to make, not his."

Zelda's heart battered against her ribs, a deafening war waging within. Duty and honor grappled bitterly with compassion and fear. Her eyes darted desperately back to the waterfall, images flickering, revealing the triumphant cadets grasping desperately at the glowing basin—the Flame of Power now theirs. It's over, the others, they made it, they had won. But alas, not Helmsworth, he was still warring against the twin powers of fire and claws.

The crowds roared in one voice with sheer thrill and terror at what might happen next. Then her gaze flickered back toward Helmsworth—trapped within that fiery enclosure, desperately trying to save his fellow.

She drew in a shaky breath, her lips parting to finally give the order. She made up her mind—But alas, it was too late.

Suddenly, a tremendous eruption tore the world apart, the concussion of which pushed her back to fall into her seat. A deafening, thunderous boom rang out, shaking the stands beneath their feet, echoing across the field and beyond. A blinding, mighty explosion burst outward, swallowing the moonlight, turning night to day in a flash of scorching brilliance. Gasps and screams erupted through the stands as nobles leaped from their seats, shielding their eyes against the glare.

In the stunned silence that followed, thick, acrid smoke billowed upward, a towering column of black despair visible even from their distant vantage point to the meadows beyond where the colosseum once stood. Where Helmsworth once stood bravely.

"What in Volvagia's wrath was that?" Daruk growled deeply, stepping protectively in front of Zelda, fists clenched tightly. The early evening slowly returning.

Below, Zelda saw the cascading waters of the enchanted fountain sputtered violently, the shimmering images fading into nothingness, leaving only an empty, rippling pool in their wake.

"No—" Zelda breathed, voice trembling, her heart nearly stopping in her chest. Her fingers clutched frantically at the railing before her, as if the very world had slipped from beneath her feet.

Darkness and silence settled oppressively over the gathered crowd. All eyes fixed on the distant inferno, no one daring to speak, to breathe—waiting helplessly, desperately, to learn what fate had just befallen those below.

Zelda clutched desperately at the carved balustrade, her fingers trembling violently against the cold stone, skin bone-white beneath the silk. Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her, vision swimming with dread as the dark column of smoke twisted skyward in cruel defiance. Her breath came shallow, ragged, punctuated only by the cruel hammering of her frantic heart.

No, please, Good Goddess of Mercy, no—

Her chest ached as if torn open, grief clawing savagely within, her thoughts tumbling uncontrollably through an endless abyss of despair. She had been so close—so close to giving the order, so close to preventing tragedy. But Arasmus's words had stayed her hand, his twisted notion of honor and the incessant need to obey age old rules that should've be forgotten trapping her in indecision. And now...

Helmsworth is gone. No matter what she wanted to believe, she knew it had to be so.

She hardly knew him truly, but in the short days they spent together, he had become something precious, something sacred, woven irrevocably into the fabric of her heart's quiet longing. His face, obscured by a half-helm yet vivid in her imagination, haunted her vision. Had her pride and caution condemned him? Had she failed the brave souls whose only aim was to serve her, to protect their homeland?

Her knees trembled, nearly collapsing as hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes, stinging like shards of glass. "We're too late," she whispered brokenly, voice barely audible above the murmurs of panic and disbelief around her. "I was too late. This...this is all my fault."

"No, Princess," Mipha's gentle voice urged immediately, soothingly, as she swiftly grasped Zelda's hand with tender strength, pulling her close. "Even if the scouts had flown at once, they could not have prevented that blast."

Urbosa stepped closer, her voice calm but edged with fierce protectiveness, placing a comforting hand firmly on Zelda's shoulder. "She's right, Little Bird. You cannot bear this blame. Whatever happened down there, it was beyond our control. You could not have known."

Arasmus stood rigid, expression unusually grave, stunned into a guilty silence. Even he seemed shaken by the outcome. His eyes, for once, lacked their proud gleam, staring blankly toward the distant smoke as if questioning his own words.

Lord Danarus's voice shattered the oppressive silence, authoritative and clipped. "Captain, see to the stands! Check the civilians below—ensure no one has been harmed by that explosion and make safe the area! Move quickly!" His Dragoons hurried away in sharp response, racing to survey the chaotic aftermath among the stunned crowds beneath.

And then, a collective gasp surged from the gathered nobles. The fountain shuddered suddenly, the enchanted waters shimmering anew, cascading images returning—this time revealing the triumphant cadets, clustered proudly around the basin containing the crimson Flame of Power. They stood, in exhausted triumph, their armor dirtied but intact, faces fierce in the glow of victory.

Zelda's eyes flickered desperately across each illuminated face, searching frantically, breathlessly, for Helmsworth's familiar frame and the ribbon she'd bound to his arm. Her heart seized painfully when she found nothing. Of course he wouldn't be there. He was battling the demon, making sure they made it through safe while risking his own life.

"Helmsworth," she murmured, voice trembling, nearly breaking beneath the crushing weight of fear. " I must go look for him…"

Purah's eyes widened anxiously. "Perhaps the enchantment simply can't find him yet, Princess. It's only a glimpse—"

"No," Zelda cut her off. In her heart she desperately wanted to believe but the cold logic of her mind took over. "He's gone, but…. that doesn't mean I can't help the others." Zelda straightened suddenly, steeling herself as panic crystallized into resolve. She turned sharply toward Revali, authority ringing clear through the tremor of emotion in her voice. "Archmaster Revali, take your scouts and fetch those cadets immediately—leave none behind. The trials are over."

Revali bowed crisply, determination lighting his stern features. "At once, Princess."

She spun swiftly toward the king, voice resolute, steel beneath silk. "I cannot remain here a moment longer, Father. I refuse to wait idly and depend upon others to act in my stead. I'm going down there myself. The Rito will bring them to us on the meadow arena."

King Rhoam started forward, a stern reprimand forming swiftly on his lips. "Zelda—no! It's far too dangerous, we're not sure if all the peril has past—"

"—Allow me, Your Majesty." Arasmus interrupted suddenly, stepping forth with uncharacteristic humility. His voice was subdued, carrying genuine regret. "I'll personally escort the princess below. I...I owe her at least that much." He met Zelda's gaze, sincerity quietly replacing the arrogant charm. "Forgive me, my Sundelion. Perhaps my earlier words were harsher than intended. Let me make amends now and guard your safety down below." Arasmus turned to one of his personal soldiers, a Dragoon. "Fetch me Stonebreaker at once. I'm to escort the princess and her friends."

The soldier crossed an arm over his breastplate and nodded. "As you command, M'Lord."

Zelda hesitated, surprise softening her expression briefly. Arcturus stepped forward, his thoughtful eyes observing Zelda carefully before turning to the Rhoam. "My King, let them go. They must see this through. You know Zelda won't be persuaded otherwise. She has too much of my sister in her. And besides, Arasmus, if all else, is a capable warrior."

Rhoam sighed deeply, shoulders sagging, caught between duty and love. After a tense silence, he gave a reluctant nod. "Go. But stay close, and await my arrival shortly once the area is secure. I'll be heading down myself to…" The King paused and winced as if he shared her pain. He continued taking in a stern breath. "To…commemorate the victorious and honor those who were braver than us all," he said, with a final, heavy hearted glance toward his daughter, who was no longer a little girl. In that moment all he wanted was to comfort her, but he knew now wasn't the time or place so he reluctantly, going against all instinct remained stoic as a statue, to appear strong to his people.

But his words were enough, relief flickered across Zelda's face, gratitude mingling with her urgency. "Thank you, Father."

Urbosa took Zelda's arm protectively, a fierce guardian once more. "We go together, Princess."

Impa nodded sharply. "Indeed. You'll not leave us behind."

Arasmus gestured graciously, indicating the stairway down from the royal enclosure just as his attendant brought him his massive two-handed great sword to wield. "Then let us hurry. The sooner we reach them, the sooner your fears may be put to rest. And with a bit of luck, mayhaps a miracle might prevail."

They swiftly descended the stairs, Zelda's heart racing with a turbulent mixture of dread and hope. Her friends moved close, a comforting wall of strength and determination encircling her. Yet, as they stepped onto the soft, trampled grass of the meadow below, Zelda lifted her eyes to the distant billow of dark smoke lingering on the horizon, heart still twisted painfully.

Please, Helmsworth...let me be wrong, she thought, before glancing at the twinkling stars above flickering in the sky, peaceful and serene, as if from another realm where the troubles of this world couldn't be touched. I beg you Goddess, don't do this…. on this day of all days, my birthday.

The meadow was quiet now, almost painfully still beneath Zelda's feet. She stood stiffly beside the dormant fountain, its waters now a placid mirror reflecting only her anxious features. Purah and Urbosa stood close, their quiet presence a comforting balm against the growing unease in her heart. Mipha remained silent, her eyes anxiously tracing the distant horizon, worry knitting her delicate brows. She too awaited a warrior she cared deeply for.

"There they come!" Impa called softly, pointing toward the eastern sky. Zelda followed her finger's path, heart quickening as she watched the graceful silhouettes of the Rito scouts appear, gliding elegantly toward them with the victorious cadets securely in their talons. Cheers erupted from the stands nearby, a tide of relief washing over the waiting crowd.

Yet her joy was incomplete—Helmsworth's figure was nowhere among the returning heroes, nor was Regosso's. A familiar dread twisted once more through her heart, heavy and sharp as any blade.

Suddenly, the earth beneath them shuddered, the grassy field groaning as if stirred by a giant hand beneath the surface.

"Stand back!" Arasmus commanded urgently, waving them hurriedly aside. "Quickly, Princess!" he said.

Startled, Zelda stumbled back, steadied swiftly by Arasmus' strong hand. The gathered people gasped and murmured uneasily, crowding closer yet still keeping their distance. Before them, the earth groaned deeply, trembling and shifting. Then, with a resonant grinding of ancient stone, a vast circular platform pushed upward from beneath the grass, its smooth surface emerging gradually into the full, lunar light.

Zelda's breath caught, awe gripping her heart as the platform settled fully, revealing a monumental stone tablet standing erect at its heart, ancient and imposing. Into the monument was carved the royal sigil—the three intertwined triangles glowing faintly under the moonlight, etched deep into the stone as if by Hylia herself.

"By the Goddess," Zelda whispered, eyes wide in reverence and astonishment. "This was hidden beneath our feet all along."

Arasmus swallowed audibly, stepping hesitantly nearer to Zelda, his bravado momentarily lost in wonder. "Seems to be a bunch of curiosities a world forgotten beneath our feet as of late, whispered stories…but never did I think them true. This magic… It's older than our kingdom itself. Look at those inscriptions."

Three ancient torches, unlit and silent sentinels to forgotten rites, stood at the tablet's front. Their wrought metal sconces looked untouched by time, as though awaiting a flame lost centuries ago. Each had a carving engraved below where beacons would be lit, one that resembled the old heraldic symbol of each virtue. Courage, Wisdom and Power.

A shadow shifted silently beside Zelda, and she nearly jumped, startled. She turned swiftly, met by the serene, knowing gaze of the High Seneschal. His presence, as always, unsettled her—calm yet calculating, inscrutable as the deepest waters.

He leaned gently toward her, voice as smooth and soft as summer wind brushing across stone. "Princess, these ancient monuments await your ascension. The final task before you. Soon, when all the victors return from the field, the evenings ceremony will commence. They await you."

She met his eyes warily, a cautious respect coloring her reply. "Of course, Seneschal. I understand." Yet beneath her measured words, she felt a prickling unease, a quiet voice warning her not to trust his inscrutable manner completely. How does he know all this?

Above, the Rito scouts landed gracefully, gently setting down the victorious cadets. Zelda counted swiftly—fifteen boys stood proudly, exhaustion etched deeply into their youthful faces. They had survived the trials; they had earned their place of honor. And yet—

Her throat tightened painfully, gaze scanning the gathered boys once more, desperate hope fading rapidly into despair. "Where is Helmsworth? And Regosso? They aren't here..."

Urbosa placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, her voice soft yet resolute. "Wait, Little Bird. Perhaps there's still a chance."

But Zelda shook her head slowly, heart sinking beneath a flood of sorrow. Her vision blurred, throat aching with grief and guilt. Once again, she feared she had failed him—the knight who had already conquered her heart and would never know it.

Please, she whispered silently, turning pleading eyes toward the horizon, please, let my doubts be wrong.

A brief moment of silence that ticked away like an eternity blew by and the sudden hush of warriors being brought back was broken by the happy shout of Mipha.

"Look!" The Zora Princess' sudden cry pierced the tense silence, startling Zelda from the depths of her grief. Her voice shook, brimming with astonishment and relief. "I see him—Link! He's alive! And so is that Regosso lordling! They made it!"

Zelda's breath caught sharply, her heartbeat stumbling erratically. For a fleeting instant, joy fluttered in her chest—Mipha's Link had survived, which surely meant hope lingered. But even as relief bloomed, confusion flooded after it. Link? Are you sure? Don't you mean Helmsworth? Only he was with Regosso. But, Mipha had said clearly: Link and Regosso. But...Surely, Link was one of these victorious fellows being flown in by the Rito scouts? Wasn't he?

Link.

The image shimmered clearly again, captured vividly within the cascading water—a hand breaking the rippling surface of the nearby stream, fingers gripping the muddy bank desperately. Then, beneath the murmuring currents, the shadowy outline of a young man struggled to emerge, pulling another limp form behind him.

A wave of realization crashed over her, fierce and sudden, stealing the air from her lungs. Zelda's eyes widened, mouth parting in stunned silence, her mind rapidly unraveling and piecing together the clandestine truth. Her thoughts raced—Link? Helmsworth? Could it truly be? That's impossible.

She whipped her gaze to the fountain, for a better look again, heart thundering.

In a rush of splashing water and exhausted determination, the hero arose—gasping, water streaming from dark, golden hair and a face Zelda had imagined countless times beneath moonlight and shadow. His helmet was gone, swept away by battle, leaving his handsome features up until now she could only fantasize about unveiled beneath the moon's gentle glow. Her blue ribbon, now muddied and tattered yet fiercely beautiful, still clung to his arm, gleaming unmistakably as the royal favor she'd bestowed.

Mipha's earlier words echoed in her ears with staggering clarity. Link. Link is alive.

She spun sharply, voice trembling with disbelief. "Link?" she demanded breathlessly, nearly choking on her words. "What do you mean 'Link'? You mean Helmsworth?" Her gaze pierced Mipha's own shocked expression. "But that can't be so…" the princess debated herself with every breath, hoping someone would make sense of it all. "That would mean…"

Mipha returned Zelda's stunned gaze, realization dawning slowly yet inexorably. Her gentle voice shook. "That would mean, Link is Helmsworth!?" It all started to dawn on the Zora princess too, like a shower of ice water from the peaks of Lanayru.

She pieced the riddle together in her mind, now that she remembered where she seen Jun before. The little squire was in Link's tent the other day when she arrived on the tourney grounds. It was him. One and the same. The boy had scurried away quickly before she could commit all his features to memory, but now it all came back to her like a solved Rosetta stone.

And just like that, as if the thought of Jun could bestow his presence among them, the boy ran up beside Zelda and boldly declared, fist in the air. "I told you he would make it!"

But before Zelda could round her eyes on him and interrogate the lad for that tiny missing detail he conveniently omitted, the one that came to the master he served; things all around them were still coalescing so fast. She could hardly process it all. The boy, after seeing her sideways glance that silently said 'I'll be talking with you later about this,' he bolted ahead to meet the victorious other youth who already made it, to avoid the princess' rebuke. To of course, he would say when asked, to help in any way he can for the time being.

The air between both Princesses pulsed with disbelief as they now stood next to eachother, the truth unfolding raw and painfully obvious. Zelda staggered inwardly, her world spinning at the revelation. Every glance, every mysterious silence, each moment when Helmsworth had stirred her heart… all along, it had been…this Link. Her silent protector, her quiet confidant, her shadow into castle town. How had she missed it? How had she been so blind?

She swayed on her feet, breath trembling. Helmsworth. The boy Mipha always known all along, the boy she'd once foolishly dismissed as merely a capable soldier, the center of salacious rumors—a ghost from Mipha's childhood was now…real.

And now she knew better. Helmsworth—the knight who'd captured her dreams and secretly claimed her heart—was Link, the silent guardian she'd underestimated, whose courage and humility now overwhelmed her heart. But then another thought, a worrisome one, tugged at her heart as well. Could the tales about him be true? Then again, why did he deceive her? And if so, why? Did his heart already belong to Mipha? Or worse, was this just some game and he wanted to play both sides of two very different royal fences and see which fairs better in the end? Then the most wicked thought of all crept into her mind that she desperately wanted to put aside, was he another like Arasmus? No, he couldn't be. Can't be.

Zelda pressed trembling fingers against her lips to calm the quiver, eyes filling with emotion—gratitude, relief, confusion, longing, fear—all swirling like tempestuous currents within her chest. The weight of realization felt dizzying, exhilarating yet deeply humbling.

From the banks of the stream, the image showed Link collapsing to his knees, carefully lowering Regosso's unconscious body to the wet grass, his own chest heaving with exhaustion, face etched with pain yet undeniably victorious. He had risked everything to save a rival—a true hero's choice. A choice only Helmsworth—No, Link could make.

Zelda struggled to breathe, overwhelmed by admiration and pride, and yet, also still dizzy from revelation; and the worry and blind sidedness that came with it. She opened her mouth, tried to speak, but found no words strong enough to encompass the storm inside her heart. She wasn't sure to hate him for being dishonest from the start or love him for being the hero she could have only met in her dreams.

Impa swiftly stepped forward, sensing Zelda's stunned silence, her voice firm and commanding, cutting through the tension. She gestured sharply at Revali, who had just landed gracefully nearby, holding another weary cadet.

"Well, don't just stand there, there's work to be done, or can't you see we have two left to gather?" Impa snapped with gentle urgency, her eyes fierce yet deeply relieved. "Fetch them both!"

Revali offered a quick, understanding nod, wings unfurling again without hesitation.

Zelda stood frozen, her world reshaped forever by the truth now uncovered. She could only watch as Revali soared swiftly toward the river, heart aching with a joy so sharp and unexpected it threatened to bring tears to her eyes. Tears of relief, confusion, resentment and gratitude all swirled into one.

Helmsworth was Link.

Link was alive. Zelda's pulse quickened, anticipation tangled uneasily with caution. Now, the helm was cast aside, its secrets unraveled at last. Would the face beneath reveal the noble hero she'd envisioned, or confirm whispered rumors of a charming rogue with a penchant for bravado and wandering eyes? Her heart twisted with uncertainty. Whether prince or pretender, tall tales or truth, she would soon see for herself the man, the myth, the legend. All she had to do now was wait.

Authors Notes: I hope you enjoyed this one. The climax of their meeting will be next and all the drama along with it. If you did like this chapter, please drop a comment. That helps the story tremendously. Thank you again for reading and I'll see you all soon.

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why we failed pt. 29

Ashes and Ascension

I stood rigidly in the line of weary cadets, the weight of my sodden tunic pressing cold against my chest, but it was nothing compared to the heaviness inside my heart. The moon above was a mocking witness, bright and merry, oblivious to my shame. Beside me stood Regosso, his face etched in exhaustion, pale beneath his proud countenance. He gave a silent nod when our eyes met, a begrudging gratitude laced with disappointment. Neither of us had won today, though we survived. We'd come in last, a bitter truth twisting at the back of my throat.

I drew a slow breath, mind drifting helplessly back to the moment Revali—the ArchMaster of the Rito, no less—had carried me in his talons like some prize catch, dropping me unceremoniously to the earth. My pride had been bruised far more deeply than my battered body. The stunned look on Mipha's gentle face haunted me even now, her eyes wide with hurt surprise. It paled only in comparison to the fleeting yet unforgettable disappointment in Zelda's gaze.

The Princess. Goddess help me, what had I done?

She stood now upon the dais, shoulders drawn back, chin lifted high with the poise befitting her birth. Yet the practiced calm on her delicate features betrayed nothing of the tempest surely raging within. Her silence toward me had been louder than any rebuke she could've uttered. She refused even to meet my eyes, her icy indifference biting harder than any blade.

How foolish had I been to hide behind that damned helm?

But I knew why I had done it. How could a failed farmer's son dare to aspire to want any sort of affection of princess? In dreams, perhaps. Dreams and fool's tales. Madness. My reality, harsh as stone, had whispered only truth into my ears: my blood would never match hers, no matter how bravely I fought nor how brightly my valor might shine.

I had deceived them—deceived her—out of cowardice, out of fear that the truth would strip away even the smallest hope I dared harbor. Worse still, I'd wounded Mipha in the crossfire, her kindness and care caught unfairly between my heart's foolishness and the princess's expectant gaze. I owed each an apology. But how and when? Not that I'll be near either of them for the remainder of this folly.

I watched helplessly now as Zelda's father, His Majesty, stepped forward, voice ringing clear and authoritative. "You all have heard the tales and now you have seen with your own eyes, the strength of the KNIGHTs of old are not lost to legend. These young men have proven themselves worthy!" he declared to the roaring crowd, voice proud and resonant. "They have conquered the Trials of Flame, earning their place among the esteemed Royal Guard. By my daughters Royal blessing they will serve my house and carry the Royal Standard proudly as they always have done for thousands of years."

Applause erupted around us, loud enough to drown out even my shameful thoughts. But my eyes remained fixed upon her, searching desperately for any sign of mercy in her graceful profile. Instead, Zelda turned slightly, whispering something coolly into her father's ear. His approving nod pierced me deeper than any dagger.

"Indeed, daughter," he boomed, "Let us not delay their rewards! Let the ceremony begin."

It was then that Arasmus Draene appeared at her side, smoothly looping an arm around hers, a charming smile painted upon his noble features. Zelda didn't pull away, instead allowing herself to be guided forward with royal grace. Her acceptance of his touch hit me like a gut punch, a chore just to breathe for those short moments.

The way he held her—it was casual and yet deliberate, as though reminding all who watched that he belonged beside her, that he alone had the right to stand there, a lord born of Serpent dragons and stone. Who was I to contest that claim?

"Fool," I whispered to myself bitterly, clenching my fists to hide their trembling. "You damned fool. Did you truly think she would look twice at you? And now with what you've done, how could she?"

My heart burned not with jealousy—how could I be jealous of something I never could have?—but with the cold, sickening certainty that I had lost her trust forever. It wasn't just my pride I had wounded; I had wounded something precious between us. Perhaps irrevocably.

Yet, beneath all that ache and regret lay a defiant whisper, soft but stubborn: the foolish wish that fate had somehow been kinder, or that my courage had been greater. I imagined standing proudly at her side instead, a champion she might truly choose. I would tell her in such a way where she may have understood, or even cared too. It wouldn't be deceitful because I would have quashed any doubts and silenced any fears she may have had. But deep down I knew that was a dream, doomed to fail. And dreams were for fools, and fools, it seemed, rarely won the day.

Trumpets blared suddenly, breaking my painful reverie. Somehow I have found myself standing beside those who were victorious, like some drone who moved aloof to where I needed to be without a second thought on what was happening around me. The princess stepped fully onto the dais, her dress shimmering gently in the pale moonlight. Her eyes scanned the line of cadets briefly, pausing not even an instant longer upon me. My throat tightened, though I forced myself to remain standing tall, dignity my last, tenuous defense.

My gaze drifted toward Regosso, whose posture had deflated, resigned yet respectful for once. He'd survived because of me, and somehow that brought me little solace. At least he'd return home alive to his noble family, still proud, still honorable. Perhaps one day he might even thank me. But what thanks could there be in failure?

Zelda raised her chin, preparing to speak, her voice sweet yet firm, and the crowd hushed to hear her words. My heartbeat quickened painfully. This was the moment when all would be decided—the victorious would be named, heroes anointed and celebrated.

And I…I was just Link. Just a peasant boy from Scrapbottom who'd briefly dreamed too big, foolish enough to believe himself worthy of more. I would be likely to even receive my knighthood after all I've done. Now all I could do was stand quietly and listen, waiting to hear what honor fate had reserved for others.

I stood silent and still, palms sweaty in my gloves as Zelda stepped to the edge of the dais. Her voice was clear, unwavering as she began her speech, golden hair shining like a crown of sunlight as the breeze swept gently through it.

"My people, distinguished nobles, honored guests," she began, each word crafted with practiced dignity. "Today we have witnessed courage and valor of a kind that has not graced Hyrule in centuries. These cadets have endured challenges that tested strength, resolve, and wisdom. Each of them has proven worthy."

Applause rippled through the crowd, the lords and ladies nodding approvingly. Yet beneath that perfect mask of royal composure, I glimpsed something else—a subtle hesitation as her eyes swept across us. She was deliberately avoiding me, I knew, and a cold dread coiled tighter inside me.

Then, abruptly, her gaze found mine. For a breathless instant, the entire world vanished. Something softened in her eyes, a flicker of longing—almost forgiveness—like the last dying ember of a fire on a bitter night. My breath caught, pulse racing, daring to hope. But just as quickly, her eyes hardened again, distant and guarded as ever.

Zelda swallowed, momentarily lost in silence. A murmur passed through the nobles, impatient and restless. The wind gusted once more, tugging insistently at her skirts, whispering secrets only she could hear. With renewed determination, she lifted her chin, her voice strong once more.

"The final trial—the Crucible—was meant to be a contest of strength and strategy," she continued, voice carrying effortlessly over the hush. "Those who claimed the flame did so valiantly. Their triumph is unquestioned, their honor well-earned."

A low rumble of approval rose from the crowd. My shoulders sank imperceptibly, resignation settling heavily upon me. What had I expected? I had failed; there was no changing that.

Yet Zelda did not stop there. Her eyes briefly flickered toward Mipha, who gave her a subtle nod, and to Purah, whose reassuring smile emboldened her. Zelda took a breath, deeper now, summoning courage from some hidden well of strength.

"However," she said firmly, cutting through the murmurs, "today we have seen more than mere victory. We have seen selflessness. We have seen the truest heart of heroism. For what greater act of courage exists than risking oneself for another?"

Silence settled thickly over the crowd, anticipation sharpening every gaze. She straightened, posture regal as her voice rang clearly. "One cadet, though failing to reach the flame himself, displayed bravery beyond measure by rescuing a fellow contender, even at the peril of his own life. His valor is beyond reproach—worthy of the KNIGHT's of old Hylia."

My heart thundered in my ears. Could she truly mean…? No, I dared not even think it.

Her eyes found her father's, and I saw King Rhoam nod solemnly, giving his royal assent. Turning back, her gaze locked onto mine, her voice steady and commanding.

"Therefore, by the sacred power bestowed in me, I name Link, low in birth but high in valor, true Champion of the Trial of Flame!"

Gasps rippled through the crowd like a sudden gust through dry leaves—swiftly swallowed by an uproar of clapping hands, whistles, and jubilant roars. Somewhere in the din, groans of the disgruntled gamblers wove between the cheers, fortunes won and lost with the sharp turn of a princess's decree. Beside me, Regosso stiffened. I expected spite in his eyes, perhaps fury veiled behind his polished composure. But what I saw instead—though I dared not trust it—was something quieter. Respect, maybe. Or something near it. Hard to say with a face like his.
I stood there dumbstruck, rooted to the earth like stone, the weight of the moment crashing over me in waves. Her words still rang in the air, impossible and inescapable. She had named me champion.

The princess continued, "Link, now to be named from this day forth, Sir Link, step forward."

My legs moved without conscious thought, heart battering painfully against my ribs. The princess's gaze was cool, yet something flickered behind those emerald eyes—a subtle glint of satisfaction, as if silently whispering, Now we're even.

There was no warmth now, no softness—only a queenly, unreadable mask. She offered neither affection nor reproach, simply silent acknowledgment that a debt had been balanced. But still, she had given me this chance, this honor.

She had believed in me enough to do this, despite everything.

I bowed deeply before her, humbled beneath the weight of countless watching eyes. "Thank you, Your Highness," I murmured, voice barely audible, my pride and shame tangled in a knot too complex to unravel.

Zelda inclined her head slightly, offering no further sign of her true thoughts. Yet, as I rose and our eyes met briefly once more, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her mouth—gone as quickly as it appeared.

I stepped back among my fellows, the roar of the crowd ringing in my ears, heart heavier yet lighter than it had ever been.

There I was, actually doing it, as if in some sort of hypnosis, standing before the crowd—my people, my peers, my king—yet it was him I felt watching most of all.

Link.

No longer Helmsworth, the mysterious knight in a half-helm. No longer the charming enigma who'd bantered with me beside fountains or spoke softly between royal garden hedges with foolish gallantry. Just Link. Common-born, battle-worn, brave as a lion... and a liar. A handsome liar it would now seem, but a liar just the same.

I hated him for it.

No—that wasn't true. I wanted to hate him. But the moment our eyes met—there it was again. That maddening heat in my chest. A skip in my breath. And now, stripped of his mask and gauntlet, I saw him clearly. I understood at last why Mipha's cheeks would color at the mention of his name. Why girls in the court whispered about him while spinning their yarns. He was striking. Disheveled and somewhat battered, and yet... unfairly handsome in that effortless, untamed way.

And that infuriated me more than anything.

Because it wasn't the handsomeness that had my heart coiled like a ribbon caught in the wind. It was the gall. The daring. The sacrifice. He'd saved Regosso—soon to be Lord Regosso after his father!—when he could've claimed the final Flame for himself. It had been noble. It had been heroic. It had been…

...everything I wanted from him.

And yet he hadn't told me. Not when we spoke after all our long walk through the streets of the capital, telling of dreams. Not even when I searched his eyes and thought I saw something real. Why didn't he say it? Tell me that he was Link. Tell me that those words spoken in the shadows behind his back were just that, words and not real. He let me say all those dreadful things on the way back to the castle too. About him, from the whisperings of others.

Why didn't he just tell me? That he was the boy from the dreams I never dared give voice to. How long had he meant to play the charade? What was it all to him? I swallowed the bitterness and tried to let the admiration rise above the ache.

His ribbon—my ribbon—still clung to his arm like a promise. A memory. Or perhaps a mocking joke. I hadn't decided which yet; the night is young and only time will tell.

I lifted my chin, finding my voice again, realizing that they were all watching and waiting for me. I shook my head to gather back my wits but no matter how much I tried all I could seem to think about was Helmsworth—NO Link. I swallowed, daring to remember what I must do. You are the heir to the goddess now, and should behave like one. Everyone is watching. Is that what the goddess would do? Get herself all tongue tied and twisted up over a boy like some milkmaid with a fancy? I have no time for such foolhardy things. I am a princess; even if I didn't want to be.

"You have all witnessed the Trials of Flame," I said, steady, if still a bit breathless. "You have seen strength of arms, yes—but also strength of heart. And as I speak these words, know that I speak not only as your Princess, but as first daughter of Hyrule."

That earned a swell of cheers. I scarcely heard them.

As I drew breath to continue, a shadow leaned near. The Grand Herald, robed in blue and silver, his booming voice so often a weapon of pomp and ceremony, was—mercifully—quiet now. His words brushed my ear in a whisper, though his energy crackled even in hush.

"Your Radiance, the coronation must precede the anointing of the victor," he said, course as croaking frog. "The people await your rite."

I nodded faintly and cleared my throat, turning to the crowd. My hand rose to my mouth—part nerves, part theater—and I coughed once to gather silence. All eyes fell back on me.

"I... It seems I have misstepped, we must honor our traditions," I announced. "The good Herald reminds me that first, the rites of my ascension must be fulfilled. And Fulfilled they will be at once." Seven Maidens bless me, lend me your strengths, I could barely stand as it is. Now was the moment I have been prepared for since I could form words in my mouth. My life… and I can't see anything but a blank parchment page in my mind, and for the life of me, I can't think of anything to write. The words escaped me and now I must put them to voice for all the people.

A ripple of excitement stirred the gathered nobles and guards. The small folk were getting restless as well and somewhere behind me, Mipha and Purah exchanged glances. I felt Urbosa's watchful gaze like if the sun were on my back. But my eyes never drifted far from that one pledge on the field.

I turned to Commander Athelon where he stood, resplendent in his crimson cloak and shining pauldrons. "Commander," I said, voice now firmer, regal, "please have the pledges take their place at the sidelines."

He nodded once, hand to heart. "As you will, Princess."

I paused. Just briefly. Just long enough. "Leave him where he is," I added, gesturing subtly toward Link. Him. Why couldn't I say his name? Surely, I wanted to.

Commander Athelon gave a slow blink. But he bowed again without question. "It shall be done as you say."

And as the Grand Priest and dignitaries began to step forward, gathering their books and relics, the three ceremonial torches still unlit at the base of the monument, daunting like pillars of judgment before my arrival to them. I took my place at the head of the procession and we marched toward the great relic of our age.

The flames would soon be lit. And with that, either the coming of blessings or omens.

And right there, now beside me, after each careful choreographed step, the boy I couldn't stop thinking about would be forced to watch me take my crown.

The hush was absolute. Even the wind, it seemed, had paused to wait for us.

I stood at the center of the ancient stone monument, encircled by three torch posts that had moments ago sat dead and dormant. They had sparked to life all at once in a violent burst of color—startling me so that I had nearly dropped the Royal gift from my hands.

That had been the reason the Herald leaned in to whisper, voice like gravel dipped in oil: "Your Radiance, the torches—they are awakening. The rite is ready. We must begin."

The fires had ignited on their own—no flint, no spell, no touch of mine. Magic, or something older. Something holy.

The crowd watched with breath caught behind their teeth, a sea of faces bathed in red, blue, and green light. I turned slowly, sweeping the gathered nobles and pledges with my gaze, but my eyes stopped on one—him. Link stood just beyond the monument's edge, still as a statue.

But before the ceremony could proceed, I turned—heart hammering—and beckoned him forward; extending my hand.

"Link." I breathed in deeply and spoke. I held the Royal pendant—an heirloom crafted in the likeness of the golden crest, delicate yet sturdy, crowned with a single gleaming opal at its center. The light from the flame pillars glinted off its polished surface as if it too had been summoned by the Goddess herself.

"This," I said, my voice steady, reverent, "is no ordinary token. It is the Mark of Flameborne Honor, a relic from the Skyfyre's of old passed down to the worthy; given only to those who have not only proven themselves… but preserved others in doing so. For those only to offer up the greatest sacrifice of all."

His breath caught. I saw it. He hadn't expected it—not after everything.

I stepped close. He dropped to one knee before me without a word. I slipped the pendant over his head, the chain settling with a soft clink against his collarbone. My fingers lingered longer than they should have. Why did I do that? It wasn't part of the ceremony to have his touch. Ugh, what am I doing? He shouldn't be getting off that easy. I must resolve myself.

"You saved a man who might never have done the same for you," I murmured, so only he could hear. "That is courage beyond pride. And wisdom beyond class."

He looked up at me then—just for a moment—and I felt the full force of it. His guilt, his thanks, his confusion, and something else… something I wasn't ready to name. He then traded me the Tri-torch that commander Athelon had procured for him. And when I took it from him… he looked so forlorn.

So human.

He hadn't spoken. But the ache in his eyes said enough: Forgive me. Please.

I had barely been able to meet his gaze. Barely resisted the urge to reach out, to touch his cheek, to tell him he was seen and known and not forgotten.

Instead, I gave him a smile meant only for him. I don't even know why I did, it happened as instinctually as breathing. Just a small one. But I watched it melt the shadows from his face. I pulled back before either of us could falter any more.

With a quiet motion, I raised my chin and gestured toward the edge of the circle. The unspoken command was clear. Return to your place with honor. Let this rite begin.

He hesitated. Only a second. Then nodded and withdrew, the pendant gleaming like a sunrise against his chest.

Now, alone beneath the monument, I turned once more to the waiting crowd, the sacred torch still cold in my hands, ready to be lit from the flames of valor that surrounded me.

"Under Hylia's watchful gaze, we gather, hearts united and spirits ablaze."

The words carried across the field with uncanny clarity, echoing through the deepening dusk. I turned first to the flame of Power.

"In the crucible of Power, we find our might, steeled against the darkness, a beacon of light."

With the word light, I lowered the tri-torch and dipped it into the red blaze. The fire caught with a hiss, and I turned toward the monumental wall bearing the sacred triangle. As I pressed the torch to its engraved edge, the symbol blazed crimson. A lions roar could be heard as it pulsed.

I pivoted. The red flame shimmered and, as if alive, vanished from the torch when I kissed the torch to the blue lit post. In its place, a blue flame burst to life and danced, sapphire sparks trailing to the night sky and stars above.

I faced the erected monument and spoke. "In the fount of Wisdom, through its rivers of knowledge we seek to learn, guiding our path at every turn."

With the word turn, I stabbed the torch forward and ignited the next triangle. The engraving bloomed in sapphire light. A sound of soothing water could be heard all around as it drank up the light. The torch hissed again when the fire lept away and it became dark once more.

At last, Courage was all that was left and it too caught the torch.

"In the heart of Courage, we stand bold and brave, against the storm. In the darkness we carry the light, for we do not waver, but save."

By some miracle I remembered the holy rites. Not that Galivan didn't drill them into my head since I was small, but the butterflies daring to burst from my belly and the swirling thoughts of Link in my head, it was a small wonder I could speak at all.

As save left my lips, I touched the last triangle. It flared emerald.

The fires roared behind me—red, blue, green—all three flaring brighter. I turned and lifted the torch skyward. "Goddess Hylia, hear my voice," I declared, voice trembling with emotion. "Let thy light rise through thy chosen! In Power, in Wisdom, and in Courage—let thy blessing fall!"

The torch pulsed in my grip. Light—the purest gold—surged from the Royal symbol etched behind me, rising in a pillar to the heavens like a divine thread weaving earth and sky together. Gasps rippled through the crowd.

The flame wasn't just fire—it was presence. It sang. Not with voice, but with feeling. Like the heartbeat of Hyrule itself awakened.

And then—shapes. The light was becoming something. Someone. A woman, tall and cloaked in golden radiance, arms outstretched. No eyes, no mouth, only majesty.

My breath caught. Was this—? But before the shape could fully form, before even a whisper could name her, the light fractured.

Gone.

The torches extinguished as one. The glowing triangles snuffed out. The golden beam collapsed like it had never been. As easily as a storm's gale blows out a flickering candle they all silenced to smoke.

A great silence fell. Even the crowd didn't dare breathe. Had this been the way it's always been? Was this supposed to happen? Had princesses from bygone eras also faced such a conclusion? My mind raced with possibilities longing for understanding. I dared to think it could be but deep down I knew, something went wrong. Terribly wrong.

And within me, joy turned instantly to dread. The air was even colder now. As if the flames when they departed took all the warmth from the world with them. It couldn't be but it was… something has gone awry. But, Why? Why now?

I stared into the void where light had been, heart thudding so hard I feared it might echo into the silence. This was supposed to be perfect. And now...Everything was wrong. What did this mean?

Authors Notes: I hope you enjoyed. More to come soon. Please leave a comment of your thoughts. So many readers and hardly any comments from new faces. It helps get eyes on the story and it's the best way to support. Thanks so much.

Chapter Text

Why we failed One-Hundred Years ago pt. 30

The Dance

Though the torch had long since gone dark, Zelda still clutched its haft as if willing it to rekindle. Thin wisps of smoke curled from its mouth, the only trace of the flame that once danced there. A hush clung to the air, dense and uneasy, as if the world itself was holding its breath. The monument—once radiant, holy—now loomed before her like a dead thing. Its three great triangles, moments ago lit with the sacred fire of Hylia's blessing, sat cold and extinguished. The faint outline of the apparition that had formed—graceful, divine, feminine—still burned behind her eyes, but like a fading dream, it slipped further with every breath.

"What just happened…?" she thought, lips parted but no voice escaping. Her grip on the tri-torch faltered slightly, its handle damp against her gloved palm. Her heart, once buoyant with the thrill of ceremony and duty, now beat heavy as a stone in her chest.

Behind her, the crowd began to shift. Murmurs like creeping fog slithered through the air—hushed doubts, gasps, and a growing unease not yet named. Nobles shifted in their seats. Courtiers leaned into one another. Commoners pointed toward the monument, asking questions no one could answer.

The Grand Herald, who only minutes ago had roared declarations with a voice to rattle stone, stood wide-eyed with his velvet-cloaked arms spread awkwardly at his sides. His mouth opened… and nothing came. He glanced toward Zelda—expecting leadership, answers. She had none. Her mouth had gone dry. Her throat closed with a sick knot.

It was High Priest Galivan who stepped forward then—quietly, slickly—his cream-colored vestments rippling behind him like a pond disturbed. The man's long nose gleamed with sweat in the torchlight, and though his frame was slight and unimpressive, his voice rang out oily and smooth.

"Be not troubled, noble citizens of Hyrule!" Galivan announced, spreading his arms with the gravity of a prophet. "What you have witnessed is not failure—but mystery. The sacred monument has responded to our prayers, yes! But in its wisdom, the divine sometimes speaks in silence."

He turned to Zelda briefly, bowing his head as though to offer respect, or possibly a retreat? She couldn't be certain. Though she could feel his opportunism sliding across the space between them like a serpent.

"The Goddess Hylia," Galivan continued, "has always spoken in riddles, in signs we must interpret. Let us be still, and faithful, and patient. For surely this too is part of her design."

The crowd quieted somewhat, like children chastened at bedtime, but the unease had not lifted—it only settled.

The Grand Herald cleared his throat, his pride stung by the priest's intrusion. "Indeed! Yes—well said, Your Holiness," he muttered, brushing invisible dust from his sash. His booming voice returned with practiced bravado. "Citizens! Cadets! Let there be no doubt—this day marks a glorious triumph. The rites have been honored, the trials completed, and the Champion found at last. All is well. All is well."

But Zelda knew. He doesn't believe that. None of them do.

The silence that followed was too long. Too tense. The air itself felt heavier, as though something unseen had been stirred—and had not yet gone back to sleep.

Zelda turned slightly, her eyes darting across the sea of onlookers, then to the cadets still standing beneath the flickering torchlight. Her gaze found Link—just for a brief breeze. He wasn't watching the monument. He was watching her.

And suddenly, the loneliness pressed down with unbearable weight.

A hush still hung like a veil over the crowd, but the unease was pierced by a single voice—firm, regal, absolute.

"It is done," declared King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule, seizing the moment for his own.

His words echoed through the ceremonial field, deep and unshakable, rolling like distant thunder. All eyes shifted from the darkened monument altar to the tall, broad figure of the king as he raised a hand to the crowd, his cape stirring gently in the evening wind.

"Now," he continued, "we shall all bask in the splendor of the Moonfall Masquerade. Let the feasts begin, and let us celebrate—for the hour of ascension has come at last."

A murmur of surprised relief fluttered through the assembly like wind over grass. Zelda could feel the tension softening behind her, like a bow being gently unstrung. The people wanted celebration. The people wanted ceremony. They always had. The darkness of uncertainty could be brushed aside, if only for a night, with wine, music, and well-placed pageantry.

Her father turned now, his voice gentler, but no less powerful.

"Princess Zelda Araleia Hyrule," he said, his eyes locking on hers across the raised deck. "Thou shall take up thy rightful place among the Royal Daughters of old, that from this day, to your last day, you shall be crowned heir apparent to the Goddess. That by your eternal blessing we shall usher in the Dawn of the New peace!"

The air stilled. Even the wind seemed to bow in silence.

Zelda lifted her chin slowly, gracefully, and offered a poised, radiant smile to her father—one that did not betray the ache still lingering in her chest. Her fingers flexed at her sides, her palm still faintly scented of the torch's extinguished smoke. Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the flicker of light that had tried to show itself… that vision now snuffed out like the flame. What had it meant? Was it a sign? Or a mistake?

But there was no time to dwell.

The king turned, raising a single hand to summon the one who would perform the ancient rite. "Your Holiness," he said, glancing down at the smaller man robed in ceremonial white and gold, "may you do the honor of bestowing this blessing upon my daughter's head? The hour has come at long last."

All eyes fell upon High Priest Galivan.

The man visibly jolted as if someone had slapped a voltfin eel across his face. "Oh! Y-yes—yes, Your Majesty, of course," he chirped with a throat-clearing laugh far too nervous to be dignified.

Zelda could almost hear Purah roll her eyes where she stood.

Galivan spun on his slippered heel, scanning the area behind the dais, his bony fingers snapping awkwardly. "Acolyte! Where is the—yes, you, you there! Bring forth the holy relic of promise. The tiara, the Queen's tiara!"

An attendant in pale robes skittered forth, clutching a ceremonial cloth with clearly empty hands. He leaned in, whispering something with a sheepish wince. The words in his ears dragged on for what seemed an eternity of excuses. Zelda and everyone could only guess what was being said and she blinked curiously about what would happen next.

Galivan froze. His spine stiffened. "Missing?" he hissed, too loud. "What do you mean the Queen's Tiara is missing? You had one job you oaf—"

A silence fell like a dropped curtain.

The priest's mouth dropped. The Realization. Then audibly gulped.

He turned back toward the king and princess as if he could rewind time with an apologetic grin. "Ah—that is to say, momentarily misplaced, of course! No doubt the artifact is merely… being polished."

The laughter he followed it with was thin and breathless, as if forced through a reed pipe. Galivan dabbed his glistening brow with a kerchief already damp from the effort of saving face.

Then, gathering what little courage he had left, he straightened—though not much, given his height—and addressed the dais with trembling resolve.

"Your Majesty," he offered, voice pitched with ceremonial gravity, "in light of this… minor inconvenience, perhaps—for now—it may suffice that your daughter be bestowed a blessing from the faith, until the Queen's sacred heirloom is retrieved and the formality completed in proper fullness?"

There was a pause. The crowd shifted like a tide in hesitation.

King Rhoam stared at the High Priest, the silence between them weighty as an executioner's axe. But then, with a slow exhale, the king gave a tight nod. "So be it," he said gruffly, more to end the spectacle than to agree.

Just then, Prince Arcturus stepped forward from the line of nobles, a goblet in one hand, his grin wide as ever. He leaned toward his brother-in-law, voice low but not nearly quiet enough to miss. "We may yet be forgetting something, Your Majesty," he said, swirling the wine as though it held the answer.

Rhoam blinked, genuinely curious. "Oh?"

Arcturus chuckled. "The most important part, the Knight's gift, dear king. Or have you forgotten?"

The King coughed and blinked before clearing his voice to the contrary. "Uh, Of course not. As you say then."

The prince continued. "It's tradition, is it not, that the Champion of the Trials be honored before the people? And not merely with words or ribbons. It has always been the way—since the Age of Heroes— and that not only he be named captain of the Princess's Guard… But, that the first dance of the Moonfall Masquerade be hers to bestow. And at their union under the pale light may they become a beacon, a sign for all, that they too may bask in the splendor, that Hyrule's star still shines brightly."

A wave of murmurs rippled through the gathered crowd, mingling with the soft chuckles of those in the know. Zelda's mouth opened just a fraction, her breath catching traitorously in her throat. That would mean, Link. Arcturus sent her a knowing wink that made her blush before she could stop herself. "We must honor our traditions dear brother," he said to the king before giving his niece another grin.

Near the king's side, Lord Arasmus Draene gave a courteous nod to the declaration, but his jaw ticked ever so slightly. He raised his goblet in false cheer, eyes glinting with something colder than wine.

"A charming tradition," he said, loud enough for those nearby to hear, yet angled just enough toward Zelda. "And what a story it will be—the princess's first waltz given to a common-born champion. I can just hear them singing it now. From being dragged through mud and flame, and now into royal arms — what a song for the minstrels that will be. Let's hope our champion remembers which foot goes where. This will be quite the sight to see." His smile was perfect but through his charm his tone was poison. A few nobles chuckled politely around him, mistaking his jape for cleverness. But Zelda, catching the sting behind his words, felt her jaw tighten.

Zelda didn't look at him. She didn't need to. The barb had landed—and Arasmus knew it.

Instead, she stole a glance toward Link—just a heartbeat's glance—and then quickly away, heat rising unbidden to her cheeks. Did he hear?

Galivan, ever eager to reclaim his relevance, pounced on the moment with a bobbing nod. "Ah! Of course, of course, the Dance of Benediction! A most holy rite indeed. A symbol of the Royal Bloodline's divine charge to safeguard Hylia's chosen protectors—KNIGHTs of spirit and steel!" He flourished a trembling hand toward Zelda, beaming like a sun on stilts. "The Princess's favor, expressed through sacred dance, is no small gesture. It is the final seal of her recognition. Her blessing made manifest before the eyes of the people and the Goddess alike! Perhaps, afterwards I may prepare the holy rites and endowments upon her?" I need to find that Tiara!

Zelda held her poise, but inwardly she flinched. Blessing or no, she hadn't expected the ancient rite to be revived—not tonight, not with him. And certainly not after—

She lifted her chin and inclined her head toward her father. "If tradition demands it," she said calmly, though her voice was laced like a sweet rose with thorns, "then it shall be done."

Galivan gave a bow so deep it might've folded him in half. He then fled to prepare words for the princess before the feasts.

From where he stood at the edge of the circle of the procession that remained on the grass, Link nearly choked trying to hold back a groan. The ceremonial intensity had been building like a crescendo… only for Galivan to trip over himself before stumbling off the grassy field.

King Rhoam closed his eyes and inhaled a long, imperious breath. Of course it would be Galivan, the old man thought with a flicker of disdain. Were it not for his family's ancient temple ties and so-called divine rites, Rhoam would've replaced him with someone competent ages ago. Once, not so long ago, there had been such a Priest—wise, dignified, and holy. But that man was long gone now, faded into memory like incense in the wind. The king sighed. "Well then, let the celebrations begin."

And with that, the Grand Herald took that as his cue to strike up the bards, to accompany the mood and with a boom of voice he instructed all those gathered. "By Royal decree of his majesty, King Rhoam of Hyrule, may we all make way to the festival grounds for the ceremony of our age, and the Holiday we celebrate! Let us make way!"

Mipha moved quietly to Zelda's side as the nobles and smallfolk began to drift away, murmuring farewells and laughter trailing behind them toward tents and wine-lit pavilions. The grounds emptied like a tide pulling back from shore.

The Zora princess leaned in, brushing her shoulder against Zelda's with a sisterly gentleness. "He means well, your uncle," she said in a hushed voice, her lips curving in a faint, ironic smile. "Probably."

Purah snorted on the other side, bounding up with her usual flurry of motion. "Well, if it weren't for that Galivan mucking up the whole thing. Pft, I could find the blasted tiara in five minutes with a rusty telescope and two bad knees. But oh well, I guess a feast it is, and… a dance?"

"Don't even say it," Zelda muttered, slicing the air with her voice, quiet but sharp.

Then, turning to Mipha with a flicker of guilt, she offered a rushed reassurance.
"And I would never presume—about Link, I mean—"

"Oh," Mipha cut in gently, her voice laced with wistfulness, "it's quite alright, Your Highness. We're just… friends. At least, I think we are." She paused, arms folding into a soft, self-conscious embrace. "It's been years since I knew him at the Domain. He's changed so much. A man Grown now in truth. Sometimes I wonder if I ever truly knew him at all. The boy I met so long ago, I mean."

Zelda blinked. The words landed strangely in her chest—neither threat nor comfort."I'm sure the dance will be over in no time," she said, too quickly. The attempt at lightness rang hollow.

But her heart still pounded—not from embarrassment. From something deeper. Dread, unease. And now she must confront Link sooner than she had hoped. Will he say all the right things? Or am I being too harsh? Or have I become too cold, too distant? And Mipha… what does she truly feel? How do I untangle all this? Or… am I already too far entwined?

And then that whole other matter of mystery came to mind. The light earlier. That flicker. The brief moment that had felt—no, had been—divine. It wasn't part of the ceremony. It wasn't illusion. That warmth had sunk into her bones like a whispered memory, as real as breath, as fleeting as a dream. And just as suddenly, it had been extinguished—like something had seen it, and swallowed it whole.

Her eyes flicked toward the sidelines—just a moment, just enough. He was still there with his brothers in arms.

There he stood: Link. Still. Quiet. Watching.

Their gazes caught—brief, uncertain—and before she could decipher the storm of meaning in his eyes, she turned away again.

No time for riddles, she told herself, steadying her hands as if holding a crown of glass. No time for maybes. The ceremonies must go on.

Behind the line of knights and nobles, a sudden breathless voice piped up—Jun, running light-footed as ever, eyes wide with gleaming mischief. He slid up beside Link, giving a sideways nudge like an overexcited pup.

"Hey," he whispered with a grin. "It all worked out, sir! Looks like you get a special dance with the princess after all. Who'd have thought, eh? And the best part is, this time you'll be able to feast too! No smashed in head this time!"

Link stiffened slightly, shooting him a warning glance. "Keep your voice down," he muttered under his breath. But he didn't swat the boy away. Instead, as Jun grinned and darted off, Link's gaze followed him—and a smile, small and tired, tugged at one corner of his mouth. Just for a moment.

Something warm stirred beneath the layers of bruised pride and unspoken regrets. Not all was lost. He turned back toward the dais in silence, jaw clenched—but the light in his eyes, however faint, had returned.

He hadn't won a kiss. But he would still have a dance. And perhaps, that would be enough, enough to say sorry. Link's gaze lifted just once—just long enough to meet hers.

Zelda hadn't meant to look, but when their eyes found one another across the hush of ceremony, it was like time hitched. She saw no smugness in him. No pride. Only quiet shame—and beneath that, something else. Something harder to name. Regret, perhaps. Or hope.

And just like that, her heart betrayed her, fluttering against its will.

And Zelda, for all her poise and grace, felt her composure quiver ever so slightly beneath the weight of that same thought.

The pavilion was alive with warmth and clamor, yet Zelda felt apart from it, as if sitting behind glass.

The long table stretched before her like a river of silver and song—goblets clinking, platters steaming, laughter chiming like windbells on a tower ledge. Silk and velvet sleeves brushed against polished wood, jeweled fingers reached for honeyed figs, and stewards moved in a quiet current behind the nobility, bearing more refreshment than could ever be drunk and words that mattered far less.

Above, Its canopy, pale cream and edged in royal blue, fluttered beneath the open sky, catching the breeze like a ship's sail. Golden finials shaped like Hylian crests gleamed along its peaks, and sheer banners billowed from every corner, bearing the sigils of honored Houses—Illiastar, Tarble, Draene, and more—each stitched in rich threadwork that shimmered with moonlight and torch glow alike; swaying like slow dancers.

The scent of the appetizers of roasted fowl and spiced fruit hung thick in the air, curling with each breath like incense in a sacred hall. And beyond the open edge of the pavilion, across the lantern-lit meadow, rose the lights and music of the smallfolk's own revelries—rougher, louder, but somehow more honest. They danced around open fires, hoisted children onto shoulders, and toasted with mugs of foaming cider. Though separated by station, the music and joy spilt freely from tent to tent, noble and commoner alike caught in the season's enchantment.

Zelda sat straight-backed at the center of it all, a temporary circlet of gold woven into her hair, her hands folded in her lap to still their fidgeting. Her mouth smiled. Her shoulders did not. She scanned the edge of the parade road beyond, where fire-jugglers waited for their cue and costumed players prepared their mock battle of knight and dragon. Everything was in motion—so why did she feel so still?

This is meant to be a celebration, she reminded herself. Of peace. Of courage. Of tradition.
And yet her heart beat as if braced for battle.

Mipha's words lingered, delicate but cautious. And Link's presence—though not yet near—loomed larger than any flame. She imagined him walking into this world of lace and lineage, calloused hands curled into fists with those deep, blue eyes catching on hers in the crowd. Eyes she could drown in. What would he say? What would she? Would the nobles mock him with thin smiles and sharper whispers? Would Arasmus sneer from his place on the dais, already plotting how best to draw blood without ever unsheathing a blade?

She didn't know. And how would she behave? Would the young girl within her break free from her better judgment and will she let the pettiness overcome her? Or will she standfast to her duty. That was what frightened her most of all.

Zelda reached for her goblet and sipped, not because she thirsted, but because it gave her something to do.

Then came her father's voice—low, steady, undeniable.

"Daughter," said King Rhoam, without looking away from the performers now taking the open area below, "I think you should send for that Champion of the Trials. The boy has earned his place at our table. He should join us for the feast."

Her fingers froze on the stem of her goblet. The wine turned bitter on her tongue. She swallowed hard. The word came silent on her lips: Link.

The name curled in her chest like smoke, warm and dangerous. She nodded once, more stiffly than she meant to. "Yes, Father, of course."

But her voice was hollow. Her heart, anything but. Zelda set her goblet down with a soft clink, the wine within gone still as her nerves. Her eyes wandered to one of the only remaining Royal Guardsman posted near the edge of the dais—a statuesque figure clad in Hylian steel and wearing a blue mantle, eyes ever-scanning. Grinn, if she remembered correctly. Loyal, soft-spoken, and less intimidating than most of his ilk.

She turned to him, hesitating. Her voice caught in her throat.

You are the Princess of Hyrule. Speak like it.

She cleared her throat softly. "Sir Grinn," she called, her voice warmer than intended, quieter than desired. "Would you… see to it that the Champion of the Trials is brought to us?"

The man bowed from the waist. "At once, Your Highness."

But before he could take more than a step back, Prince Arcturus rose from his place near the King, goblet in hand, and raised his voice over the din. "And soon—very soon—our dear Princess shall be receiving her birthday gift! But not before our princess' honored guests, Anjuel and Kafei are joined in sacred union, as custom and honor demand."

A ripple of applause followed, gentle and respectful. The young couple seated near the far end of the dais blushed furiously under the sudden attention. Kafei bowed his head sheepishly, and Anjuel gave Zelda a shy smile, glowing with anticipation and nerves. Zelda returned it with as much sincerity as she could muster—though her heart still thudded anxiously in her chest.

"A toast!" King Rhoam declared, lifting his goblet high. "To the bride and groom. May the Goddess Hylia bless their union!"

The court echoed him with a chorus of raised glasses and murmured blessings. Silver rang against crystal. Music picked up again just beyond the stage, soft and sweet, strings and wind dancing like moonlight across still water.

Zelda barely heard it.

She caught a muttered remark from her father, spoken half to himself as he leaned toward Danarus Draene. "And where, I wonder, is our dear High Priest Galivan? Still searching for the Queen's tiara? Hylia help us, does the man need a map?"

Lord Danarus gave a short, measured chuckle, placing a hand over his chest as if to temper the jest. "All is well, Your Majesty," he said silkily. "A minor delay. Nothing that need trouble the festivities. Let the masquerade commence, as planned."

The King gave a grunt of assent and rose to his feet, his voice booming over the festivities like the peal of a ceremonial bell. "Noble guests and honored kin—let the Moonfall Masquerade begin! Those who wish to dance beneath the moon and try your luck among the stars—your time now approaches."

A gentle commotion stirred through the gathering as some nobles turned to their servants or retrieved masks from their seats—plumed, gilded, feathered, some whimsical, others grim. One by one, they adorned themselves. The world became a masquerade of beasts and birds, of starlight and shadow. Some, however, opted to only spectate.

And one them would be Zelda.

Urbosa, seated beside her now in full Gerudo finery, leaned over with a half-smile, holding out a carved mask the color of burnt sienna and gold. "Not tempted to hide for just one night, little dove?"

Zelda looked out toward the meadow beyond, where Link would soon appear, unaware of the pageant waiting for him.

She shook her head gently. "No, not right now," she said, her voice like a blade sheathed in silk. "Unlike Helmsworth… I've got nothing to hide behind."

Urbosa raised a brow and lowered her own mask to wait as well, nodding slowly.

Across the table, Mipha had heard her. She blinked, her expression unreadable—caught somewhere between worry and understanding. But she said nothing.

Sir Grinn was just turning to leave when a smaller voice called out.

"Wait! If it pleases the Princess… I could go instead."

Jun stepped forward from the side of the dais, bright-eyed and eager, his cheeks a little red, but his back straight with resolve. His ceremonial squire's cloak that he was gifted, now that Link was a true knight, fluttered as he bowed low, almost too low, before Zelda.

She blinked in surprise. A pause. Then a soft smile.

"Very well," she said. "I trust you, Jun."

Sir Grinn gave a courteous nod and stepped back, deferring to the boy.

Zelda leaned in just as Jun turned to dash off, her voice teasing with a bitter edge she hadn't meant to taste so sharply. "Tell him… he may come armed with a mask. If it makes him feel better to be among us, among…me."

Jun gave a little laugh, not quite sure what she meant, and ran off into the meadow's darkening gold, toward the festival lights.

Zelda watched him go, her hands clenched lightly in her lap. She didn't know if she wanted Link to wear the mask—or take it off. Still unsure how she felt about his earlier deception and still quite stung by it. She would just have to wait and see when the time came.

Link could hear the music and laughter before he saw the pavilion—flutes rising like birdsong, drums thudding like distant hooves, and the crackling of torches carried by servants moving between silk-shadowed tents.

Jun walked proudly ahead, his small shoulders squared, calling greetings to the guards as if he himself were nobility. Link followed at a modest pace, chin up, boots clean, his light armor buffed to a dull shine. His tunic clung slightly from the earlier trial, and though he had washed in the stream, he could still smell a hint of cedar smoke and sweat on himself. It made him feel more honest than ready.

When they reached the grand opening of the pavilion, Jun stopped with a grin and turned.

"You'll do fine," he whispered. "It's easy, just eat and nod, that's what I do."

Link gave the boy a look, his lips curving just enough to count as a smile.

Inside, the pavilion glowed like a world apart.

Torchlight danced across banners stitched with the sigils of old Hyrule—Pale horses, flamed Serpents, blooming lilies, and great golden wings above them all—and beneath them sat noblemen and ladies in splendor, every face turned to the raised dais where the royal family reclined. Silver and gold shimmered across the feast table, and music from the corner ensemble mingled with perfume and roasted venison in the warm air.

But it was not the table that held Link's gaze.

It was her. Zelda.

She stood now with Mipha and Purah near the center, pale and radiant beneath the open canopy, her hair crowned in gold. For a moment, Link forgot to breathe. Her eyes met his—and for half a heartbeat, neither looked away.

Then the moment passed, and the world moved again.

Jun cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Presenting the Champion of the Festival of the Flame—Sir Link, Captain of the Princess guard." The boy then ribbed Link with a whisper as the nobles watched. "Pst, has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

A few nobles clapped politely. Most looked on in curiosity or concealed amusement.

Zelda stepped forward, flanked by Mipha and Purah. Her expression was a mixture of regality and restraint, though her fingers twitched at her side.

"Well met, Champion," she said, her voice smooth as silk over glass. "You've done Hyrule a great honor. We are… pleased to welcome you."

Link bowed deeply. "The honor is mine, My Princess."

An awkward silence lingered. Mipha offered him a shy, searching look, but said nothing. Purah grinned wider than decorum allowed.

And then came the serpent's voice.

"Ah, so this is the man of the hour," Arasmus drawled, stepping forth with his hands clasped behind his back, his princely mantle draped like a vulture's wings. "My betrothed speaks highly of your… endurance. And now, I must say I agree with her boasts. We've now all seen her words truthfully for ourselves. You are quite the warrior and the guard will be glad to have you among their ranks. Quite the climb indeed—From scrapbottom to the Princess' own court in just a day. I dare ask what would happen if you were given a week!" he finished with a sly laugh.

He offered a smile, all teeth and thorns, and extended a hand for show. Link took it briefly—too briefly—and let it go.

Zelda turned her head slightly, lips tightening at the corners.

"Well," she said, her voice lighter now, almost playful. "Perhaps it's best if I sit beside our Champion. I should get to know the man I'll be dancing with, after all. Can't have me stumbling through the performance for all the realm to see, can we?"

She said it casually, as though Link were a stranger to her, but her eyes betrayed her—just for a second. Arasmus paused. Then offered a slow, nodding chuckle. "Of course. Best get it over with before you trip over his boots, hmm?"

Then, lowering his voice just enough for the inner circle to catch, Arasmus added with a smile too polished to be sincere, "But do take care, Helmsworth—steal a dance if you can, and enjoy your time beside her. Just remember—borrowed things are meant to be returned." His eyes slid to Zelda, lingering with a smile too fond to be sincere.
"And as for you, my sweet… try not to charm the poor knight too much. We wouldn't want to confuse the poor lad, mistaking your kindness for invitation."

Zelda tilted her head ever so slightly, the very picture of poise. Her smile bloomed gently, as if she had not heard the insult beneath his words—or had chosen to forgive it.

"Oh, of course," she said sweetly, her eyes never leaving his. "I'd never wish to lead anyone astray… especially someone so unaccustomed to the subtle games we nobles play."
She let the words hang, delicate as lace—yet they cut like silk drawn across skin.
"But I suppose even stars must learn their place in the heavens—if they're to shine without burning."

She turned to Link then, her expression softening with an airy lilt. "Come, Champion. Let us sit. I promise not to dazzle you… too much."

Link's throat bobbed as he inclined his head and stepped forward, saying nothing—but the flush rising at his collar was answer enough. Link gave the smallest of nods and stepped forward, but not before Mipha glanced down, her brows knitting faintly as if caught between admiration and ache. She said nothing, but her fingers curled slightly in her lap, holding back words that might never come.

Urbosa, standing at Zelda's right, let out a low hum, lips tugging into a knowing smirk as she folded her arms.

So it begins, her silence seemed to say. The dance before the dance.

A few soft laughs echoed faintly down the table—nobles unsure if they'd witnessed flirtation, fencing, or both. The air around the high table seemed tighter now, as though laced with perfume and powder just waiting to ignite.

Arasmus's smile did not falter, though his eyes cooled just slightly, like a candle shielded from wind. He gave Zelda a shallow bow, the motion smooth as ever.

"I'll be mingling with the other houses," he said, the edge of his voice wrapped in silk. "But I shall return to your side before the next course, my love."

He let the final word linger just long enough to remind all who heard it—noble and commoner alike—that she was his, in name if not in heart.

And with that, he turned on his heel and glided off, his dark cloak trailing behind him like spilled ink on parchment, leaving a silence that felt far too loud in his wake.

Link looked at Zelda, unsure whether to speak.

Zelda only gestured toward the space beside her with a faint, breathless smile.
"Sit," she said. "Before anyone else tells you not to."

Link hesitated for the span of a breath. Then moved. He sat, careful and quiet, unsure whether he'd just stepped into honor—or an ambush. The heavy fabric of his newly ordained, Royal cloak settled beside her satins like storm clouds brushing against moonlight.

The bench creaked slightly beneath him, drawing the gaze of a few nearby nobles—but most had already turned their attention back to drink and the performances underway.

Before Link could gather the courage to speak, a cheerful voice broke through the lingering tension.

"There you are!"

Jun had appeared beside them with the timing of a sunrise, his cheeks flushed from excitement or the sprint back—likely both. His formal squire's tunic was slightly crooked, and his hair had begun to defy the oil slicked into it, but he stood tall, proud to be in the company of his betters.

Zelda's face brightened at once. The frost behind her eyes thawed in a breath. "Jun," she greeted, her voice as warm as spring water. "You found him without trouble and in good timing too."

Jun gave a mock bow, grinning. "He was exactly where I knew he'd be. Lurking by the food and pretending not to look nervous."

"I wasn't nervous," Link murmured, more to his trencher than to anyone else.

Jun ignored him. "Are you two going to wear your masks to usher in the Masquerade?" he asked, fishing his own from where it had been tucked into his sash. "Everyone's starting to. It's the Moonfall Masquerade—you're supposed to look mysterious."

Link took a breath as if preparing for battle. Then, finally, he spoke. "Maybe we should wait. Until after the dance."

Zelda tilted her head slightly, the light of the braziers casting a warm glow on the golden strands of her hair. Her smile returned—soft and dulcet, but laced with thorns. "Nonsense," she said sweetly, pointing at her own mask resting near her goblet. "You of all people should feel quite at home behind one."

The words landed gently enough, like a compliment at first glance. But the weight of them was unmistakable.

Jun blinked between the two, sensing something he couldn't quite name. His smile faltered for half a heartbeat—then returned, smaller, more unsure. Jun opened his mouth to say something—probably too loud, probably too eager—but his voice faltered before it found air.

His eyes had shifted past Link, past Zelda, past the flickering warmth of the court's torchlight and feasting, to a lone, masked servant moving quietly behind the nearest barrel of beverage. The man's motions were practiced, seamless—until they weren't. A stumble of hand. A too-deliberate tilt of a decanter. A folded cloth napkin held just long enough for the symbol on its hem to show—subtle, swirling, unmistakable.

Jun's breath caught. His pulse jumped.

He straightened too quickly. "Ah—I'll be right back," he said, masking the shift in his tone with a practiced grin. "Something I need to… check on. Pardon me, Your Highness."

Neither Link nor Zelda questioned it. She nodded, her attention already drifting back to her guest, and Link, caught in his own storm of nerves, barely noticed the boy slip away into the edge of the gathering. Jun's soft steps whispered away like a restless secret.

Zelda turned back, smoothing her dress across her knees, and the moment reoriented itself. She blinked once, then smiled politely, composing herself.

"Where are my manners," she said lightly. "So, Sir Helmsworth… or should I say Link, now—I believe you've already met two of my honored guests: Lady Anjuel and Mister Kafei."

The pair stepped forward from the circle of seats nearby—Anjuel in a modest yet finely embroidered dress of masterful craftmanship, Kafei in a crisp tunic and cloak, his hand resting warmly at her back. They bowed in unison, courtly but not over-rehearsed.

"Of course," Link said, bowing his head in return. "Lady Anjuel. Kafei. I remember. We met them back in the square of town."

"We're honored to be here for your triumph," Kafei said earnestly, his voice rich with sincerity. "And thankful beyond words for Her Highness's generosity. To celebrate our wedding alongside the Princess's big day and the trials… it's more than we deserve."

"You deserve happiness, same as anyone," Zelda replied gently. "And besides… I rather like the idea of so many kinds of love being celebrated all at once."

Anjuel gave her a knowing glance, mischief curled at the corner of her lips. "Well said, Your Highness. Though if the rumors are true, there may be a bit more love in the air tonight than anyone planned for."

Kafei concurred, leaning forward slightly, eyes glinting. "Careful, Princess. With all this romance in the air, you might catch it yourself."

Zelda's eyes widened—just a breath—and the blush bloomed so fast she nearly forgot how to breathe.

Kafei then chuckled and then shot a glance between her and Link. "Aye, love is contagious on nights like these. I mean, at a wedding feast such as this, how could it not? With just the right song, under a bit of moonlight, and with just the proper dash of courage…who knows what may come? Am I right?" he ribbed Link where he sat. "Even the coldest of hearts can find warmth on an evening such as this."

Zelda blinked. Her cheeks now irrevocably red as a sunset glow on pale marble. "I—I'm sure it's just the festive air and wine talking," she said dismissively, brushing a curl behind her ear and smoothing a nonexistent crease in her gown. "Festive nights stir feelings, especially on empty bellies." The princess then eagerly reached for an appetizer of buttered sweetbread and forced herself to take nibbles. If not for nourishment to keep a clear head but to keep herself from speaking any more that would betray her feelings.

Anjuel covered a small laugh behind her hand, the corners of her mouth twitching with mischief. "Kafei," she chided, sweet as honey, "you're going to scandalize the royal court. You don't want them thinking us commoners are without any class, right?"

"I only speak truth," he replied, feigning innocence as he took a swig from his goblet. "It's a dangerous thing, love at first dance."

Anjuel's smile deepened just slightly, the mischief in her eyes catching the lamplight like a secret passed between sisters. She said nothing—yet the look she sent Zelda spoke volumes, louder than a shout, sharper than any teasing remark. It was the kind of look only a friend could give—the kind that said I see you, even if you won't say it aloud.

Link shifted where he sat, acutely aware of every gaze now tilting his way. He tugged absently at his sleeve, suddenly fascinated by the seam, as if the right thread might unravel the heat rising in his ears. A blush colored the tip of one, traitorous and all too visible.

From across the table, Mipha's gaze drifted—slow, deliberate—from the rim of her goblet to the space between Link and Zelda. Her expression held: serene, unreadable. But the silence she cast was a weight in the air, heavy as water pressing in on stone.

Zelda caught it and faltered, just slightly. Was it judgment she saw in Mipha's eyes? Betrayal? Or worse—pity? The thought struck deeper than expected. She could endure judgment, even if undeserved. But pity… pity left no defense. Zelda couldn't decide which would sting more.

Noticing the Zora Princess, Zelda straightened subtly and cleared her throat to politely dismiss Kafei's sentiment. "I suppose we'll find out, then… Though I imagine laughter will prove far more contagious tonight than notions of any half-spun romances or cliches."

"Very well said, Little Dove," Urbosa snorted into her cup, not fooled by her proclamation. At this rate, it'll be both. And I'll need another drink just to keep up.

Purah snickered as she listened, chewing her appetizer. But Zelda's eyes instead flicked again toward the direction Jun had vanished, unease curling softly at the edge of her thoughts—though she couldn't quite name it yet.

And somewhere at the edge of the masquerade, unseen by the nobles who mingled and dined, Jun moved swiftly through shadows, heart thudding like a warning drum against his ribs. He knew the symbol on that cloth. And it wasn't meant for decoration. It was now time.

AUTHORS NOTES: I hope you enjoyed this one, the next one will be out in a few more days. Let me know your thoughts or guesses for what happens next. Stay tuned friends.

Chapter Text

Chapter

Why we failed One-Hundred Years ago pt. 31

From Starlight to Cinders

The scent of roasted pheasant and honeyed figs still lingered as the feast began in earnest beneath the open pavilion. Laughter rolled from table to table like wine being poured. Torches flickered along silk-draped posts, casting gold and amethyst light over the assembled nobility. Hyrule's finest were gathered—lords of river and ridge, warriors of stone and wind, and merchants dressed finer than kings. Yet for all the music and merriment, Zelda's attention was elsewhere.

Purah, already halfway across the table, was practically vibrating. Her goblet wobbled dangerously as she leaned in, eyes gleaming. "Zelda," she whispered—loudly. "I've been dying all evening. Can we please show you your surprise now?"

Zelda arched a brow. "You mean you've kept a secret this long without exploding?"

"Barely," Purah grinned. "But I'm a woman of science. We practice patience. Occasionally."

Across the table, Prince Arcturus chuckled as he swirled his wine. "She's telling half the truth, which is more than usual," he said warmly. "But this—this you'll like, niece."

Zelda narrowed her eyes playfully between them. "This isn't going to be like your last 'restored heirloom,' is it? The one that turned out to be a glorified chamber pot from the Third Age?"

Purah gasped, clutching her heart as if struck. "That was not a chamber pot! It was… possibly a ceremonial basin! For sacred rituals! ..." Purah then sighed with a relent. It was probably. A chamber pot. But this isn't that, this is much, much better!"

Daruk, seated just beyond the King, thumped his fist on the table as laughter rumbled from his chest. "That thing? Oh-ho! We used it to boil hot rocks for stew back at the southern post! It worked great and it was so beautiful in its workmanship!"

There was a moment of stunned silence—then an eruption of laughter, nobles and commoners alike. Even Impa cracked the ghost of a smile.

Zelda blinked. Then blinked again.

Dear Hylia… thank goodness Gorons eat stone and not Hylian mutton, she thought, best not tell him what that is, repressing the sudden, horrifying image of a sacred urinal doubling as a soup pot.

She composed herself with grace, though her lips twitched with amusement. "Well," she said, folding her hands in her lap like any proper heir to the throne, "perhaps we should be more cautious labeling antiquities next time. Especially if they smell faintly of vinegar."

Arcturus lifted his goblet in salute. "Duly noted, my sweet Niece. No more ceremonial cookware without a proper…well, test."

"Especially not ones with handles," Purah muttered under her breath, crossing her arms as Daruk laughed even harder.

Zelda giggled despite herself, the warmth of it rising alongside her anticipation. She could feel the shift in energy now—something was coming. Something real. Her fingers tingled slightly as if her curiosity had sparked something in the air.

She glanced from Purah to Arcturus, both of them wearing the same infuriatingly pleased expressions.

"So," Zelda said, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion, "what sort of surprise weighs more than an ox but is as majestic as a celebrated war axe and needs to be smuggled in under silk?" She remembered the huge secretive contraptions being pulled earlier by teams. Mind racing with curiosity.

Arcturus raised a single finger. "No hints."

"But I will say this," Purah added, winking, "it took over sixty-five leagues of rough mountain hauling to bring them here. And yes—we had Goron help."

Daruk thumped his chest. "My boys cleared a whole path through the eastern slopes! Stone cracked like old bread under their fists."

"It was dangerous terrain," Arcturus admitted, more serious now. "But worth every risk."

Zelda blinked, her smile faltering into focus. "Then… that must mean, the Stonelands? You went back to the excavation sites?"

"No names!" Purah chided, wagging her finger. "Only guesses."

Impa sipped her wine with a knowing look and then smirked. "You've been asking for access to those ruins for years."

Mipha tilted her head to see Zelda's expression. Zelda's pulse quickened. Her father had denied her request three times. Too dangerous. Too frivolous. Unfit for a crown princess.

"Father?" she asked, turning to him.

King Rhoam folded his hands, his expression unreadable. "Consider it a birthday indulgence. I am not without sentiment. It won't be said that I don't love my daughter, the very least on her birthday." He then relented a smile just for her.

Zelda's throat tightened. Even Arasmus, who had been swirling his goblet, stepped forward without a trace of sneer.

"It was a coordinated effort," he said smoothly. "Your uncle. The Sheikah. Even myself. We ensured it arrived intact and undiscovered."

Zelda blinked, genuinely surprised. "You helped too?"

"But of course," he said. "It's important that you feel… supported. Especially by your betrothed."

Purah and Arcturus exchanged a look but held their tongues—for her sake. They knew he had no hand in it, but they also didn't want to spoil the mood either so they remained silent.

Then came the sound. Wooden wheels crunching over gravel. The hush that followed cut across the pavilion like a blade. All turned.

Three massive flatbed wagons rolled into view, wide as a noble's coach and twice as long, their forms hidden beneath dark silk embroidered with Sheikah crests.

Zelda rose to her feet before she even realized it.

"Now, now, no peeking before the unveiling!" Purah called after her, bouncing to her feet.

Zelda ignored her and stepped from the dais, the fine carpet muffling her barefoot steps as she drifted toward the procession. The torchlight cast a shimmering trail behind her gown, and all of Castle Town seemed to still—nobles leaning forward, commoners pushing to the front, watching.

At Robbie's sharp whistle, a dozen attendants in gray and blue moved in fluid formation—bowing, positioning themselves by each wagon. Their movements were perfect. Too perfect.

"Ready?" Robbie called.

Zelda stood a few paces away, breath catching. She nodded.

The cloth fell. What stood beneath stole her words.

Bronze and black metal—no something else, more ancient, squat, and spidery. Six-legged, with a central eye dimmed but intact, runes etched in fading blue across its carapace. Its form was unlike anything she'd seen in the archives, like something unearthed from myth.

The second wagon revealed one with longer limbs, the third more compact and braced with what looked like… turrets?

"They were found in a collapsed chamber beneath Mount Garo. We were about to give up but Robbie for once was right to have us persist in the excavations. He kept telling us to trust the old maps and wouldn't yak no wit, he was right." Purah explained softly. "We think they were weapons used against the dark one—defensive, autonomous, probably powered by crystalline energy. Perhaps the same as the divine flames from earlier that breathed that great fountain to life. Some power chambers still hold charge. Small, but stable if manage to unravel their mysteries. I was thinking maybe you'd lead that here, Dear Princess."

Zelda stepped closer. "There's nothing like them in any royal record."

"No," said Impa, her voice quiet. "No doubt they were torn from the records. Likely during the reign of the Paranoid King. They weren't meant to be seen again."

"Until now," Arcturus finished proudly. "Until your day of ascension."

Robbie beamed. "And now you can study them up close. No permissions needed. No barriers. They're here, Princess. For you."

Zelda's voice trembled with awe as her gaze swept over the ancient constructs. "Then… I believe they deserve a name. One not only to mark their return—but to honor it."

At once, Prince Arcturus and Purah nodded in unison, their smiles wide and wordless, like two conspirators caught in the best sort of secret.

Zelda turned to the gathered court—nobles, scholars, warriors, and commoners alike. Her back straightened. Her voice lifted, clear and ceremonial as if summoned by ancient rite.

"A name that echoes their legacy," she declared, "and one that guides their purpose in the world to come. These relics are no idle curiosities—they are witnesses of a lost age, noble vestiges of knowledge and might. Let their rediscovery not be the end of a forgotten chapter, but the beginning of a new one. For in these gifts, I believe, lies the power to challenge the ill omens of the Oracle, and meet what comes with divine favor at our side."

She stepped forward, her hand resting reverently upon the largest construct's metal shell—cool and silent beneath her touch.

"I think I shall name them… Guardians."

A hush fell across the field, taut as a bowstring.

Then she added, softer but no less certain: "Yes. Guardians. As the heroes of old once stood for Hyrule, so too shall these guardians endure. Their legacy begins anew."

Then: "Guardians!" the Grand Herald roared. "By declaration of Her Royal Highness, Princess Zelda of Hyrule—let these ancient relics be named Guardians, protectors of old Hyrule reborn anew!"

A swell of cheers thundered across the field. Nobles stood in salute. The smallfolk erupted into applause.

Zelda smiled beneath the rising moon. And behind her, the masked "Sheikah" attendants bowed—too slowly. Too perfectly.

They did not cheer. They only waited.

By the time Zelda returned to the royal pavilion, the air had shifted once more. The ancient machines had been wheeled away, and the solemn hush of ceremony had given way to revelry. Tumblers spun through the torchlit grass in bursts of color, somersaulting beneath a sky lit with fireworks that fell like silver rain. Applause rang out. Wine, ale and even prized Romani spice milk flowed. Laughter curled like smoke from every table.

Zelda sat among it all, smiling as decorum required, yet her thoughts drifted—still tangled in the glint of etched runes and the stunned hush that had swept through the crowd. She had named them. Guardians. The word pulsed inside her like a vow. A legacy reborn.

But the night was far from over.

Beyond the blur of incense haze and wine-sweet laughter, a new melody began to rise.

It started softly—a current of strings and flutes winding through the torchlit dark like a river beneath starlight. Under the hush of the silver moon, Hyrule stilled. Nobles looked up from behind their gilded masks, goblets forgotten. Even the common folk at the edges leaned in, drawn by the weight of tradition gathering in the air.

A space had been cleared in the grass—no banners, no herald's cry—just a circle beneath the stars, open and sacred, where ceremony gave way to legacy.

Only moments before, High Priest Galivan had bumbled through a blessing to unite Anjuel and Kafei, pronouncing their vows before goddesses and men alike. But now… every gaze turned to the royal dais.

To the Princess of Hyrule.

And to the champion she had anointed during the Trial of the Flame.